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you look upon thai merry brooklet, and give
way to sadness I” and then, drawing me to
wards her, while she passed her hand over my
forehead, she continued:
“ ‘ What grief should thy years know 1
Thy brow and cheek .are smooth as waters be
When no breath troubles them.’ ”
A beautiful face, as well as a voice,
had the fair speaker. Oh! how I afterwards
loved that face, with its bright complexion,
white forehead, dim with the shadow of rich
brown tresses, with its full ruby lips, and,
more than all, the large, dark, earnest eyes,
from which “I drank in soul.” Helen Con
way was then “just seventeen;” she was
above the usual height—some called her too
tall —but her head was so superbly moulded,
her bearing so queenly, every movement so
graceful, and this dignity was tempered with
so rare a spirit of most delicate mirth, that
few save the envious, found her height at all
detracting from her perfection.
She was the only daughter of an English
gentleman of great reputed wealth, and she
had but one brother, every way worthy of
Helen. They had been motherless for many
years, but their father had added the tender
ness of the lost parent, to the pride they were
so well calculated to inspiredn his bosom, and
certainly they were a singularly happy fam
ily.
The summer term passed quickly away, and
we were busy in our preparations for the ann
ual examination, when Helen was summoned to
attend the death-bed of her father. We heard
from her, through her letters to one of the
teachers. Her father’s illness had been part
ly the result of anxiety on learning the loss
of all his landed property, and, on his decease,
his whole estate was ascertained to be insolv
ent. Helen was therefore unable to return to
school; she was resolved henceforth to sus
tain herself, and for that purpose must go out
among strangers!
When another term brought us together
again, I learned that Helen Conway, though
much against her brother’s wishes, had enter
ed a Lowell factory as an operative, to supply
herself with the means of finishing her edu
cation. To her brother’s expostulations she
had replied:
“It is no disgraceful thing which I would
do, Phillip, but one most honorable. I would
not make such employment a matter of choice,
nor would I perhaps seek such companions
as may surround me, but at the worst, the em
ployment will not degrade me, nor the asso
ciates contaminate, and I shall the soonest
gain what I require, and I shall have the sat
isfaction of knowing that I have not fettered
you, my dear Phillip, in the course you have
adopted; for impeded you would be by the
maintenance of an indolent, helpless girl.”
With what astonishment was this intelli
gence received by Helen’s former schoolmates.
Her mild dignity had gained for her the res
pect of all—her rare intellectual acquirements
had commanded it, and her amiable'disposi
tion had won even the most thoughtless; but
when all these had failed, the aristocratic
name she bore, and the knowledge of her
father’s wealth, had been sufficient to gain an
acknowledgement of her superiority. What
was she now 1 ? “A factory girl”—“oneof
the Lowell crowd” —a class always placed b 1
the would-be little aristocrats of our number
tar below the daughter of the retail grocer, or
humble artizan. In spite of the circumstances
which had given me my station in the “ upper
circle” of our miniature world, this state of
things had made me most indignant. I did
combat bravely for Nature's true aristocracy;
and I uphold it still more warmly now, since
a knowledge of the real world has taught me
that fine appareling may clothe the most un
mitigated vulgarity, and a full purse only aid
*ts supercilious importance and ridiculous
pretensions. The right to be aristocratic, —
‘tnd I hold there is .such a right,—is one which
ffffid cannot purchase, but which comes as a
-ree gift of Nature, and this distinction I
§®UnF£IBM &, II IT BISA IE Y ®A% B& *
reverence next to the rare genius with which
she sometimes endows her children. Vulgar
ity in a palace, displaying itself in affectations
of taste and refinement, so shallow that any
clear eye may discern their absurdity, show
ing itself also in haughty insolence towards
inferiors in station or worldly advantages, and
servility towards those elevated by the world’s
acclaim, or by yet greater wealth, above them
selves, is utterly more despicable and revolt
ing than the unconstrained viflgarity of the
lower classes. Very few who have the pow
er of gaining great wealth, know how to use
it; their energies are too often directed only
in one channel, and when they have tightly
drawn their purse-strings over the last acquir
ed dollar, they have as resolutely drawn clos
er the heart strings. Stifling all noble im
pulses, their head too grows heavy with their
hoards, and the highest aspirations of their
soul are checked and perish in the tainted at
mosphere. D’lsraeli defines “ good breeding”
—which is necessary to aristocracy—as “a
genial regard for the feelings of others, which
springs from an absence of selfishness,” and
how can those whose hearts are hard as their
treasures, hope to acquire it I
But I mean not to digress thus, and will hast
en to tell you how my friend fared. The whole
year was spent in toil, and its effect was en
nobling, for she was stimulated and incited
by the highest motives which can influence
our conduct, and may not the most menial la
bor be rendered a proud, yea, a holy service,
when we toil for the comfort and happiness
of those we love, for their or our own ad
vancement in the beautiful lore the soul
craves ?
Helen’s leisure hours were well improved;
the boarding house piano was ever her choic
est recreation, for she had a fine voice and a
well cultivated taste for music. A large libra
ry, for the use of the operatives in the mills,
supplied her with the books her own little
store lacked; and besides this she learned
many, and to her most strange, lessons of hu
man nature, among her associates, until both
heart and soul expanded most liberally during
her year at Lowell.
At the end of the year she returned to
school, more beautiful far than she had ever
been, for she had learned to be fully conscious
of her own peculiar dignity as a woman cap
able of self-control, and of self-support. She
was more loveable than ever, also, for her
heart and a warmer welcome for those whose
affection was tried and faithful.
“ The sun of my father’s love has .set,” said
she to me, referring in her own peculiar man
ner to the greeting she had received, “ but the
beautiful stars have begun to come out, and
lo! they are all suns, too, giving light and joy
to other planets. He was nearer to me, so I
lived in his beams; hut now, his light, though
not his influences, has been removed and merg
ed in the glory of God, of which glory his
spirit was an emanation.”
All, however, were not able or prepared to
appreciate her conduct; and even in her pres
ence some would speak contemptuously of
the factory girl’s life—“of their boarding
house pianos—of their libraries, and literary
associations.” A slight towards her alone
aly gained from her a smile: but when she
Heard those whom she had learned to respect
spoken of in this manner, she would draw up
her queenly figure, and defend them with
heart-warm eloquence, until the contemnors
quailed under her just sarcasms. Nor was
this all she could do for them. She wrote in
their behalf, and her pen did ample justice to
the subjects which inspired it, and to her own
free spirit.
“I am determined to put Helen Conway
down!” said Eleanor Sibley, home was
in one of those proud mansions that overlook
the noble square which is the pride of the
New England metropolis. “One would im
agine her a very princess, or, as a republican,
I suppose I must say, ‘President’s Daughter,’
she advances her outre opinions about those
Lowell factory girls with such an air of su
preme authority, as if she said * you dare not
dispute me : I know I am right.’ ”
“ If I am not a President’s daughter, I may
become a President’s wife—who can tell to
the contrary, Nelly Sibley I” and Helen ad
vanced, laughingly, from behind the column
wffiich had concealed her from our sight.
So they all found out they could not put
her down, and then they dubbed her “Defen
der of Operatives’ Rights”—“ the Ebenezer
Elliot of New England” —“ our Yankee How
itt,” etc. “Noble titles!” she would say,
with perfect good humor, “Don’t you think,
young ladies, I could plead w r ell for you
when August comes I” And, truly, when
the day came for the distribution of honors,
Helen received from the school, by unanimous
award, the highest they could bestow: an ad
dress to be read before the friends of the
school in behalf of an Education Society
which they had established among them, and
Eleanor Sibley was deputed to inform her of
their choice!
Helen Conway left school, and became a
teacher. For three years she toiled in her
honorable but laborious vocation, and then
she was married to one who had long loved
her. If I dared tell you her husband’s name
you would recognize it at once as one very
familiar to you, for he is a member of Con
gress —eloquent, and patriotic, and high-soul
ed!
Now ; “who can tell but Helen Conway
will one day be a President’s wifeOf all
in that school, not one has a fairer chance of
attaining the station—and will not the “ fac
tory girl” do the honors of the White House
with superb grace!
©rigmal JJoetrg.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
SUNSHINE.
The sunshine is a glorious thing,
Whene’er its flood-tide fills the world,
As if some cloud whose darkening wing
Aside by giant hand were hurl’d!
A thousand waves reflect it back—
The mountain crest the clouds on high
It marks the ocean in its track,
And gilds the limits of the sky !
The sunshine seems to be the 3mile
Os Deity, to mortals given
To turn them from their earthly guile,
And win their homage back to heaven.
S. C. O.
Montgomery, Alabama.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
AN INTERCEPTED LETTER,
FROM A TOWN BELLE TO HER COUNTRY COUSIN.
Dear Cousin, your letter by Tom is at hand,
As also the basket of cherries;
And I send by the bearer my pink velvet band,
The two pair3 of slippers from F— s,
A love of a dress, which the C—yi—s declare
Is a style just imported from Paris —
They had but three patterns ; one of them I wear,
Another they sold to Miss H s.
She had hers made up with a very full skirt,
And trimmed with three beautiful flounces ;
And I send you beside the tale of “ The Flirt,”
And three pounds of candy from M —nc —s.
I know you will like it, —the novel, I mean,—
It is so delightfully thrilling,
Tho’ I think it a shame that so much should be seen
Os our sex’ caprice for a shilling !
Then I bought you a charming lace mantle at L—’s
—At tho North they’re the top of the fashion:
The locket I left to be mended at Ch —s; —
Lace shawls, by the by, arc my passion!
A3 to music, I got you the best I could find—
Two pieces with gay title-pages—
The Jenny Lind Polka and The Girl to niy Mind,
The latest arrivals at —S-g-s.
The riband Pm sorry I could not get matched,
Tho’ I tried, as you said, ll & M-s-s :
Your shoe I have sent to the shop to be patched—
I wish you could see our new horses !
I send you the paper, envelopes and seals,
With an inkstand, from R ds & Co’s i
And to keep you from running quite out at the heels,
There are three pairs of white cotton hose.
I think these are all your commissions, dear Ann,
Yet stay, there are some things forgotton—
The hair-pins—a dozon—some gloves and a fun,
And throe spools of fine sewing cotton.
Now, what shall I tell you for news, by the way 1 —
There is not the hope of a marriage;
Captain M is expected to come every day ;
The L s are to have anew carriage.
You’ll come to Commencement with uncle, I hope ;
C takes the first honor, ’tis certain ;
Oh, I’ve sent you a cako of that Omnibus Soap,
And a dozen brass rings for the curtain.
You must make your new dress with a small bishop
sleeve,
And under-skirts now are worn smaller;
They say it is true, though I hardly believe,
That our friend, Col. F—n, grows taller.
I declare! what a lengthy epistle I’ve penned,
And I’vo scribbled all over my paper !
It’s only for you, and one other dear friend,
That I’d burn until midnight my taper.
So now, my dear cousin, I bid you adieu, —
I hope you will think the dress pretty ;
And the lace cape is something decidedly new,
But not so the love of your HETTY.
fjomc (Horraponftmce.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
NEW-YORK LETTERS-NO. V.
New York, May 30, 1848.
My Dear Sir :—An effort was made by the
authorities here, some time ago, to establish a
greater outward respect for the Sabbath, by
closing the cigar shops, oyster saloons, and
ihe cases generally, upon that day. During
the short time, however, that the law existed
it was merely nominal; a thousand and one
“ striped pig 1 ’ expedients being successfully
resorted to, in its avoidance. At length it
died a premature and decided death; and at
this time it is so very dead , that if you take a
stroll on a pleasant Sunday morning, through
the Bowery, Chatham and many other streets,
you will find not only the cigar and oyster
establishments open, but stores of every other
description, presenting as gay an appearance
as on any other day of the week, and tempt
ing you to step in and be shaved. Every
street, and almost every block in the town
has its bar-rooms and saloons, accessible
throughout the day, and brilliantly lighted in
the evening of the Sabbath. In the midst of
this very pious state of things at their own
doors, some of our most eminent clergy, of
various denominations, have published a pro
clamation earnestly recommending all and
singular of their flocks, and the elect gener
ally, to pile up the dimes and dollars for the
regeneration of the poor, deluded hottentots
of France —that ignorant and benighted
race who have never produced greater men
than such stupid divines, and poets, and
statesmen, and artists, as Fenelon, Bossuet,
Pascal, Racine, Moliere, Corneille, De Stae!,
Voltaire, Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, Thiers,
Guizot, Arago, Lamartine, Beranger, Poussin,
Delaroche, Schceffer, Vernet, Talma, and ten
thousand other glorious names in every de
partment of literature and science. Verily
we are a prodigiously wise people—in our
own conceits.
During the past week, we have had among
our distinguished guests, the Hon. Daniel
Webster and wife, and the Hero of the Halls
of the Montezumas, —Major General Winfield
Scott—like Col. Webb, of the “regular army.”
The latter lion was ‘sent for’ and came on
Thursday. The heavens literally smiled up
on him—for the day of his visit was not
merely the only pleasant one of the week, but
was a jewel of a day, as balmy and lovely a
one as you would wish to see. The city fa
thers, and other amiable and honored gentle
men went to Elizabethtown, his place of res
idence, to receive him, and at 2 o’clock in the
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