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ILSSTOHiiS
ferso^'
[Another neiv contributor we welcome into
the noble ranks of the Crusader to-day, in
the gifted “Clara,” of Nashville, Tenn, whose
beautiful volume we noticed in a late issue.
She will twine new laurels for the brow of our
goodly champion of Southern literature and
independence:]
Tlie Dead Love,
infels. Nor was , He granted it willingly—glad that she show-
;loomy abode for | cd any sign of interest in anything around
and late, it was her; and Ida retired.that night with the de-
e her life one of termination to rid herself of her annoyers, by
a scheme which she had formed.
J begun to merge This was to erect a nunnery upon the island,
almost sadly, to which she might retreat whenever she chose,
8 would now be- until she should hear from Roland. The sa-
iss ; but he laid cred walls of a convent would at least protect
ness, and assem- her her persecutors,
ring youth—the The
illy German bar- *®d her plan, was fluent in his praises of her
noble ancestors, undertaking; and her father, thinking it
The nuns of Saint Agnes had human hearts,
and a human heart still beat in the noble
breast of the good Bishop of Colonge. She,
so nearly the Bride of Heaven, was the patro
ness of their order. Would they break the
heart of her who had consecrated so much of
the holy life she had always led to the great
work of their religion? Every thing hetman
the dark brown locks, Jamie, the shrinking,
delicate boy, Charley and Harry, the brave
and noble ones, bade their parents good-night
and went to bed. The baby was laid in the
cradle, and the parents and the two eldest
born, Horace and Kate, sat down to their
books, interrupting each other only by occa
sionally remarking upon the subjects.
“ Do you hear a strange noise, father ? ”
’asked tfre*eon, in whose'eyes Alice b&Kt ber^
gazing with a’strange tenderness for the last
half hour, thinking how soon he was to leave
her. -
“Ido; it is like water. There will be a
freshet to-night, and it is no wonder if our
cellar overflows.”
^flTfc'&ither rose and went to the door with a
lamp; these was water everywhere. Water
pouring fn m th&..clouds, water in the yard,
and water on the st^jjs of the house; and soon
a little flat canoe was pitsJled up to them, and
from it towarti. Mr. Stone.
When the hair is cut to a convenient length on
• the neck we have the freedom of the Lair, its
i health, the comfort of the wearer, its down
ward flowing nature, which poets so much ad
mire, and which is the natural condition of
the hair, and we have the natural shape of the
head, always beautiful; the undergrowth of
Wr behind, at the junction of the head aud i
2£T"A11 lctiww intended for Mrs. Vrexch
McMii.ru-i
i.f inco :
k This *
Kardmc
first
cat evenly around on the agolt, forui9 a m<ie* when a boy, nnt
beautiful eilken border, and the color ut
y hair in contrast with thawhiteness of the neck
JtepM tme nf the moet brilliant, beautiful, and
:«**d*c contracts in the world. Then we have
Of the length <>f the hair.—
»B*,««6t£Uet aU these points of beauty with
the entirelaefc of the same in dune-up hair,
and then let any or.e decide which style i3 the
moet beautiful. And how grandly flowing hair
for women corresponds with, and how sym
bolical of her own geutle, flowing nature !—
N«»w, Mr. Godov, I submit the points I have
made in favor of the convenience, comfort,
and beauty of short hair for woman—which
are but a few things that can be said in its ia-
vor—whether the Ides sings that would flow
from it would not justify con.-iderabie effort
on our part to change public sentiment :a its
favor? I have every reason to believe, from
thosv whom I have talked with, that there are
thousands in our land who would ad >pt short
hair at once were they not over awed by ad
verse public opinion. But they think, like
thousands of others, that they might almost
* as well he out of the world as out of the fash
ion.’ Mr. Godey, 1 know you have the inter
est and welfare of woman-kind At heart, and
now will you aid me a little with your advice,
counsel, and inductions in my effort* to
change public sentiment in favor of the bene
fits, comforts, and ble-eings that short hair
would give to woman-kind pveiywhere?—
Cnsbla Macbref*
awr\trnm ;, ui
o«4, I’ve'buried it deep; where mortal 1 eye
Cau never it« grave behold ;
Jn the innermost depths of n broken heaii
* Now m »rLle-like and cold.
stu v ’*li to the pulpit; and his ardent
piety was gc of his suitableness
for i profession to?wh^c^^^^ tunc P re -
sented nw,vtry great objection,
disqualify him fur active life.
The minister's visit was repeated and re
newed. Mary Dale playfully reminded her of
what she had said, and Alice had blushed and
replie 1 that it was certainly a great pity that
he should be thus. Mary felt sure that her
friend had already forgiven the deformity that
existed.
And ?o she i.ad. She looked with the eye*
of her spirit, tipi u one who seemed all the
more hallowed for his affliction.
The transition from pity to love was as easy
in Alice Fleming’s day as it was in Shuks-
peare’s ; nr d when the young minister with ft
tou hiug allusion to his s ate, asked her if .-he
could love ft cripple wril enough to marry him,
there were tears in her eyes a- joy ful as they
were tender and loving.
Circumstances arose which resulted in ft
call to a distant parish. Perhaps it was best
so; for if a clergyman i» truly /aid to bo no
successful prophet in his native place, how’
much more must the clergyman’s wife desire
to pass from the often envious and ill-natured
remarks to which her position subjects her,
and to which a person of delicacy must most
sensitively shrink from ?
AUnn.t*: the sundown is purple in hue,
And the Ay and the mountain have BMt to I
The eanshtee i« biding, the dark coating ee,
Make haute i it wiU find you, mjrMfcm*i
For ‘ Birdie ’ and “Brave* be*MfSSgg
And yon nnrt do Hbe them,mh0T*fm<H
FUn&dotru alt your pteytMoga, m4 Jgrtifct
; +or never again can tlie voice of one
I’ve adored make its pulses thrill;
Like a beautiful Ice-berg ’Death the c u
’Tvvill shine, yet be frozen still.
And calmly and lightly I’ll pass along,
" s -- And play in life’s pageant my part,
And none shall dream the gay child of
Hath n dead fore in her heart.
XaeKciUe, Tnn.
So the lofty and imposing structure rose in
the vary heart < f th«* beautiful Rhino, bearing,
on its summit, the consecrated Cross. The
beauty and novelty of its situation attracted
the eye of every traveler on the banks of the
river—of every voyager upon its bosom ; and
soon th<* content was filled with the fl iwer of
German nobility It was called the Convent
of »Saint Agnes.
On the very ev«- cf its consecration, a man,
hoary with prematur* ago, and bent, from long
and weary pilgrimage, f «ble and foot-sore,
arrived at the ca.-tle of Drachenfels. To ques
tions respecting hi- sad and worn out appear
ance, lie stated that he had just come, after
weary year?, from the land of the crusaders.
One of the household eagerly questioned
him if he had *o*en aught of the Chevalier Ro-
a figure spranj
•* My dear sir, you seem to be fts much sur
rounded by water as Noah-was. I came to of
fer my house to you and yours, if you fed in
convenience or anticipate any danger here.”
“ Do you—does any one expect that then* i;
any danger in remaining? ”
“ Wc have
[Nothing can be more pleasant and ins
ing of a summer morning than to read s
poem as this :]
-A. Morning Hide*
I With huntin'!; sorely I’ve *hov
Your labors ft•rcule&o—now you are free,
M dcelhUU! a cuslila machree!
Stay! her on the carpet your treasures throw <b>\
For the bath is all ready, tbo nice snowy gown
Unfolded before ns, (there now! what a plunge!)
As yon see “Mammy” waiting with towels and spi
ll* ! ba! what a splashing! now Frolic we’re thin
See the crystal waves bubble and glitter an . hine
As I dash them about you with riotous glee,
<lfav6umeeu ueelhhh ! ft cmhla Macl.rce!
Sleep’ bonnie eyes that are stainless ant! clear,
peace little heart to the angels so dear:
Sinking—sofr-.-inbing to Italmy repose,
An I he lies on my heart like the dew on the
Partly in h'-ptfulness, partly in fears
While T bead overturn drop ttio warm tears, -
Unshed'? my spirit—low praying for thee.
Manim esthee hir !$ a cnshln machret!
Like » his d.iy to the rivulets flow
Dovi n the g tvn valley where lilly-bads blow.
Gleaming in Miushine, or hiding from view,
Sporting in blossoms that .-lumber in (lew ;
Then when the night comes with shadows so Ir u
An»l S e cr. .-p* to my bosom and nestles him donn,
A bee in thetalip-cnp. drowsing in be—
Mania: asth.ee hir! a rnshla n.nchifp !
God keep thy day bright, blithe, bonnie bairn !
Free from the sbadaw that falls Iron tlie cairn.
Free from the griefclonds that darken in wrath.
Free. U\ ca the sin-snares that tar.g'.e our path !
Tli:n when onr night comes we'll fear not its fn.wi
To the rest everlasting we'll cnlm’y go down.
And the white gales of Heaven will open for
AnJ mavi.nrneen deelish, a cnshla machree!
Th. island still remains in iu emerald beau
ty. The Caetle of Dracheafel« and the Tower
o- Rolan Iseek still catch the eye of the trav-
e.er as s< me of the most romantic attractions
of That region ; and not a peasant whom he
meets, th:if will not feel honored to be ques
tioned of the beautiful legend that has surviv
ed the long lapse of years since the memora
ble period of the Crusades.
fC'-n the water higher hero. But
rill be un-
s a larger
i we will get you away safely,
reaching the rooms, for the em
bankment i.- perfect.”
Another boat came along, and
repeated by another individual.
“Friends, I thank you,” said
of Mr. Stone: “Our little <>nei
and if their mother does not obj*
here, l think we will njt disturl
will trust God this night at least,
And bidding them good-night, he went back
to the evening prayers. Alice then took up
the sleeping baby, and carried it up the stairs.
A deeper rush of water in her ear made her
turn aside to her son’s room, of which the
door was open, lay her baby on his bed and
run to the winder, which she opened. Just
then her husband was opening another win-
ayjjr.od eteed.
and it
Shak..- from tliy hoofs the heated dus
Bathe them iu dewy spray,
•Scant the air from the apple trees,
SnufT at tlie waving corn,
Inhale the sweets < f the elder bloom
The cooling breath of this morn.
Up to the hills and away good steed.
Winnie, the faithful gray,
I’Ubare my brow to the ru«king brt
And the far sun’s tarliest ray,
A doffing ride ou a morn like this,
Banishes earthly ills,
And a halo of softened sunny beams,
The heart of the weary fills.
Aye, rest thee now, while 1 ga/.e nro
'Tia & scene for an attist’s hand.
The distant hills, the towering trees,
The sloping, flowery laud,
The swaying corn, the ripened grain
And yonder cabin lo. e,
Its low roof stained by many storms.
Its chimney of roughest stone.
Now, on good steed where the idugin
Crosses the flowery glade ;
«>n to the “aisles of the forest clime’’
To the realms o r eternal shade,
Beneath thy feet, no soft gn en gras-
Spioadeth a carpet down ;
For the heat of the sun may not pa .-
To enliven tlio earth so brown.
(The foliowing lines are from the pen of the
late Hon. Abel 1\ Upshur, Srcrctary of State,
who was killed 2#ih February, 1844, by the
bursting of a cannon on board the C. S. steam
frigate, the Powkattan. They have been kind
ly communicated by h lady of Virginia, and
have never before, we believe, appeared in
same was
ety Its import brought her fainting—almost
dyiug, to the floor. He had known him well,
iiad seen him winning laurels in the thickest
of the fight in a battle with the Sarac**na ; had
beheld him wounded and had heard «#f his bu-
riut beneath the walls oi Jaffa, while he him
self lay wounded in his tent, and unable to
witness the last ceremonies.
Almost broken-hearted, Ida revived to an
nounce her intention of retiring forever to her
nunnery to pray for the repose of her lover’s
soul.
The morning came when the maid of Dra
chenfels was to become the Bride of Heaven.
She came forth from the castle robed in all the
magnificence of her wealth and station, spark
ling with diamonds, and crowned with the
most beautiful and rarest oruament of all, the
unequalled hair which had been her father’s
pride.
Kneeling upon the floor, after .-he had lain
It Wi re vain to tell the various sun.-hines
and shadows that smiled or gloomed over the
mini.-tcr’s family. The “sunDy sides” and
“shady sides,” the “Pastor's side” and the
‘•People’s side,” have sufficiently told this.—
It is enough to say that as years went on, eight
olive branches clustered around the table of
Leonard Stone. Every one brought a fresh
blessing. No bird wft3 ever blither than Alice.
Hc-rlullabies were all cheerful ones; so were
the storu-s which chained the children’s atten
tion, and which made the mother’s face look
almost glorified in its expression of holy sweet
ness, a* she talked to them of the shining
throng who “wave their palms and wear their
crowns” in the “world beyond the flood.” No^
a word cf John Rogers cr the martyrs to ead-
tJan their glad faces—but peace and joy> and
'ovc— the infant Christ smd the dear John.
There were times when the scanty salary of
a couniry liiirii.'ier seemed all too little tofup-
pOTl bis family ; but Alice was fertile in expe
dients, anu the garments of the elder re-ap
peared wonderfully years after they were out
grown and worn threadbare, upon the persons
of the younger.
Leonard came home from the post-office one
day with a letter in bis hand, and a troubled
look upon his face ; and it was not long before
Alice was made aware of the contents of the
missive. It was from a parish in the West,
offering him a settlement and advantageous
ririu on tl._ of everlasting rock.
Proud pyramid! thou standee:, and thy head
Far, Far al ove the cloud*, looks up to Heaven
Thou art above the lightning, and the peal
Which shake* the nether earth with awe and .
Bursts at at thy feet, innocuous. Thou wast
When eirth's foundations first were laid;
And thou bhatt be till earth shall fade away,
Still in primeval grandeur unitnnaited.
Her-?, had boat quickest at the voice of one
who, had as yet addressed her by no words of
love.
The only claim which Ronald Bergen had
made upon her attention had been the silent
admiration of his expressive eyes. Perhaps
from that very reason, or partly from her own
perception of his superior merit, and partly
that she was not repelled by any assumption
ol favor, ehe was compelled to turn away
from all others, and muse secretly upon him
Tlie deepest, most thrilling
has ever been written can never surpass some
of the re al incidents of life. We tax ourselves
with weaknc:>s and absurdity, when we weep
at the high wrought and touching relations ot
but they do not come up to
romance
•My child :
tMy sweet darling! thou pnl*« **f my h
My sr-ul h within yon.
Tlie Martyr’s 'Wife.
“Long Grabs,” writes to the Lanche.-ter IS.
C.) Ledger.
We called to see Mrs. Jackson, the widow of
the martyr and hero who killed Col. Ellsworth
of the Zouave Regiment, for entering his house
tSTJfitf Wifj nulling -d?jrs tw> fnftJrr
ate Flag which proudly floated from its dome.
She now resides at Fairfax Court House. Out-
visit was received in the spirit which dictated
it. She v. ry kindly and cordially offered us
But a imtfs that clin,"*? in tlie deepest dell ;
Or climbs o’er the lii^hot hill.
Is here to teach that in the shadowy lift.
Are gleamiugs of beauty still,
In the darkest paths where your feet may
Are lesions the heart may read.
There's a wealth of knowledge iu nature’s
^^Wiuk ywn.>t so my steed,
iv&u dash thee on over rocky'paths,
K An.' tuning to my cheek its Mon’u,
H'hir calls to ini lid those rare old time*
When tha earth knew naught of gl<K>m.
M lien a maiden fair as the angels are,
And loved as nono e'
Bode by my side over
»Vith her tresses fl«
- foTJTt Hair for Lndie!*.
Intho.se “wartimes’* it lias become quite
fashionable for our pretty belles to have their
hair cut short—“shingled” i. j , we believe, the
technical, cr barbarous term. To our taste I
the fash;in ?• evcce/Iingly becoming to most
and w* only wonder tlm* onr lady
friends did not find thi.i out long ago. We
confess lo a weakness for short hair for ladies
—if looks piquant, independent, untia;chijicd,
and sometimes even saucy—to which, however,
we don’t object in the slightest degree. We’ve
endeavored to dive down a little into the phi
losophy of iLis subject which we have found
“ lying about loose,” and have inquired of our
own individual self, cn divers and sundry oc-
is to the i hy our young ladies are
poor Maggie Titllirer's style of hair-
jusTi" I 1 ! !* cnt crisj^. Why are
the novel writer
the fiery trials and overwhelming sorrows that
belong to the still more tragic r al.
The little country village of Wheatcllfe was j
thrown into dismay by the death of the rever-/
cd ps-tor of the ouly church. He had been
settled fi>r life, after the good old fashion that
would not permit a clergyman to be turned out
to die, after baptizing children, marrying
grown people, and burying the dead, besides
preaching to the living three times a week,
until "trength, and youth, and health gave
way.
And the se’eclion of a new pastor was no
thing, that could be arranged
with the quick, angry gwrh deepening irresis
tibly around them. Infant eyes w^re closed
in^slnmber that night that never yaked again,
until they beheld the face of their Father iu"
Heaven. A mother floated out on the dark
tide until in her first waking, she^might only
have repeated as her fir-t words In hear en:
“ Hero am I, Lord, and fhe little ones Thou
It was the hush of morning over Drachen
fels—the morning iu which the Lady Ida had
thus gone forth. The first rays of the morn
ing sun had kissed the golden cross upon the
convent of Saint Agnes, and fhe peaceful in
land lay like an emerald upon the bosom of
the Rhine. A traveler, in martial costume,
was leading his worn and weary -teed to the
edge of the river.
The golden cross of Saint Agnes caught his
eye: and a murmur of surprise burst from
his lips. The sight brought up old memories
of long ago, that had hovered for years around
that green isle of the Rhine. He remember
ed how often, when he lay wounded and, ap
parently, a: the very point of death, that
green spot would come to bis remembrance
like an oasis in the desert, and that when
borne away by his comrades in a swoon that
resembled death, hi? first waking thought wa«
of Xennenworth. What could be the meaning
of the noble edifice rising upon that spot so
con<eciafed to the memory of a fret and *»nly
love ?
A peasant, goiug forth to his daily work,
paused to look at the stranger, and to reply to
the rapid questioning which he gave. lie
told him why it was that the beautiful daugh
ter of Baron Ettenheim. after all hope of her
lover's return had ceased, had erected the nun
nery up.»n the island yonder, and then passed
to a relation of the strange event that wa9
perhaps even now taking place, and which
would draw tears from many eyes a* it would
praises from many hearts.
“She is so good—so much beloved,’ added
the peasant. “She is like an angel, and she
will soon be cne in heaven.”
) Unconscious who was his listener, he went
ring free.
Then tlie music of laugh soft and
As the purl of the sti camlet liei
Bang on the air, and its echoes no
Are ringing upon my ear,
’Twfcrt a cheat of memory tho’ 1 ns
For the vision fair lias gone,
Mjr steed is walking wearily
And I’m on the hills alone,
Culltdka. Tenn.
light nor triflinj
to the chase on the battle field. To read the
lines in which she almost fancied there was a
half hidden reference to herself—to hear the
music of his voice as lie chanted the rhymes
of older poets, and marie the deeper and inten
ser force which lie gave to their thrilling words,
were Ida’s sweetest. cnjoytnetvf« : enjoyments
which it became hard to disguise, but which
her maidenly modesty would not suffer her to
betray in words.
What of that? The lips are poor interpre
ters compared with the eyes : and there were
stolen glances in which Roland read the lan
guage of the heart. And iu so reading, he
read also that he might no! be too severely re
pulsed if lie dared talk of love to Ida Ettcn
heiru.
lie gathered from the starting tears that had |
borne witness to the effect of his song, and
tho intense power and charm of his music, and,
in an hour of twilight stillness, in the re
pose of a forest scene, lie spoke words such as
her heart had long been yearning to hoar from
the. lips of Roland Bergen.
The first joy of her confession blinded her to
the almost certain refusal of her father, which
the very gifis she loved in Roland would be so
likely to draw from him. She knew how ar
dently he had desired her to wed some one of
whose deeds of courage and prowess lie could
boast, and how lightly he esteemed the charms
of poetic imagery or the cultivation of music
al taste.
Tremblingly she confided her fears to Ro
land, as she laid her head upon his shoulder
in the fiist new rapture of knowing herself
beloved ; and her fear communicated itself to
him.
Like an honorable lover, however he sought
the Baron in order to know his fate. The lat
ter answered him kindly aud condescendiuglv,
but, in words that admitted of no appeal, that
no man should ever be the husband of Ida Et-
tenheini, whose knightly valor could not be
proved.
Hard words for one who had been all his
life long wedded to the song and the lute ; but
as no sacrifice was too great for him to make
f»r Ida. he resolved to prove himself strong;
and the next week saw hitn preparing for the
terrible contests in l'alestiue.
The partiug was on the beautiful island ou
which the crags of Drachenfelg looked down ;
in a sunny spot whose verdure seemed green
est and loveliest, and where the leaves were as
thick as in the forests of Vallambrosa.—
Thenceforth that spot wasjconsccrated in the
maiden’
and the connection dis.-olved
at any niomenr
The people came to it with prayers,
id very likely with tears,
casion 4
the next.
a solemn thing
to decide upon the quality of his spirit who
should break to them the bread of life. Nor
Wft9 their careful deliberation profitless. It
was right that they should choose thus tremb
lingly, lest the church and their holy religion
be disgraced.
The congregation of Wheatcliffe church had
assembled on a pleasant March Sabbath. The
frozen stream had broken up under the warm
sunshine, and everywhere, from the ragged
edges of the snow peeped up the sweet arbu
tus, trailing its fragrant blossoms upon the
ground, and re-appearing in church, a sweet
smelling nosegay in the hand? of all the
children and not a few of the grown peo
ple.
Two young girls, bright, rosy and fresh as
the arbutus itself, lingered longer than the
others, to enjoy the pleasant air aud glowing
sunshine; but at Ia«t, even they were shelter
ed within the tall, square pews that seemed
intended to cage them into devotion. Occa
sionally some unlucky boy would meddle with
the carving of the pews so nearly resembling
his grandmother’s wheel bobbin ; and twi-ting
it half round, would elicit a sharp squeakiimr
sound that would make the queue on the d**a
con’s head turn rapidly from side to side in
trying to find out the offender. He was easily
known by his mortified air and red face, even
if all the female inmates of the pew were not
shaking their heads at him in dismay at the
their meditation.
tMMl then, too, a piece of orange peel
or * hit of flag-root went the rounds of the
family, or was .passed from pew to pew, or
Stto whispered saws of the week wan nis-
had sat around the evening meal together!
Nor was it he, the light, yet strong aud brave
youth who had swam hours in the river which
»nt forth its floods through the crevasse
ibankment had disappeared
nor the maiden
The two sat up till after midnight. It was
a great struggle with both. On one side was
the society, every member of whom loved him
and was loved in return. On the other, a com
petency end a future to whiclr he could look
for his children. There were prayers, and
thanksgivings, and tears; and it ended by a
farewell which wrung Leonards’ heart with
angui-b, and which loft hi? people weeping and
sad.
Hard a? it wa?, he felt that it was his duty
to do the best he could for his children, and
his prospects at the West -eemed to op< n fair
and bright.
They arrived without accident, received
every neighborly kindness from the people,
and were soon settled in comfort. Before
leaving New England, a friend hod tried to
beg one of the pretty, in'cresting children,
choosing a fine little girl of nine or ten.
“I connof spare /«r,” said her father, “she
looks so much like her mother.”
“Well, the hoy that comes next.”
“No, James looks like me.”
“Little Eiloy !”
“Well, I would, only -she resembles Mn-
The Nun of Saint Agnes
now
from which thi
—not lie was tlie saved one
who floated out in his arms ; nor the mother,
strong in a love which would fain have gath
ered the flock beneath its wings. No, of all
those ten, no one was saved but th * feeble,
crippled husband aud father. Helpless as he
was, unable, it would seem, to protect himself
a moment from drowning, he had battled with
the water, doubtless with the hope of rescuing
the others, had clasped the trunk of a small
tree or shrub which had withstood tlie flood,
The Cnstltd Crag Of Drachcnfrli
The wildest and most picutureeque of the
long line of hills rising in eternal grandeur
above the lovely waters of the Rhine, is that of
Drachenfels. Many a haughty baron has in
habited the lofty castle, of which a portion of
the ruin3 still remains; the greater part, how
ever, having crumbled away, and fallen, per
haps, into the bed of the river, over which it
projected in fearful abruptness.
Far as tlie shadow of tlie lofty m uintaiu ex
tends, it doe? not quite reach the pretty island
of Nonncnworth. Thi? island lies out in the
broad, glorions sunshine, unshadowed and se
rene as a thought of Paradise ; greeu and beau
tiful with foliage the rarest and most precious
that sheds its fragrant leaves beneath the sky
of Germany.
And as it lies now to the eye of the passing
traveler of our own times,
and ages ago, to the eyes
beautiful daughter ot Baron
whoso joyous life was pas.-i
sioa in the gray tower of
her turret window, the love
distinctly seen ; and, on bi
boat would gianco over tin
Among the distinguished men who fell victims
during the war of the American Revolution,was
Col Isaac Hayne, of South Carolina; a man who
by his amiability of character and high senti-
<-at;-s£, had secured
their glos.-y locks—soft fetters to bind tberr
&t0tf-idcals during their absence ? We shouldn't
wonder if many a shining curl, and silken tre>s
had been put to such dear service. In the
Span>'» nrs. ve arc told, the females of a
smui: g.*.rison hound their hair under tho chin,
to appear like a beard, and mustering them
selves upon ti e ramparts, compelled the ene
my to sun on er. Our voung l&diea, in a case
like this, wil; certainly be obliged to resort to
the legitimate moustache maker, i. e., burnt
cork Bat, after all, Abare ia a philosophy iu
tbj^,new faahitipjjHritek is more, perhaps, than
can 1*7 of flsoet faehions. Our ladies mean
to intimate b/TUfbaCMiere is anggesaity now
that they shoal* MdM ©are jffpBMhus, and
they are d'.-termiM# to > hoig, flexible
tresses convey, pertopt uocMMiMal;, the id**
of dei.Fh ’eaoe. Short caxl^ on tbe ooatruy,
give on imprettion of (troBgtJi, »tIf-nliuo*s
and hi//. Is it not to? Bat wo oomao«DC«4
these few liaea ” only for the parpoaa of ktn
troduciug » latter which Male vary aanaibla
feminine !uu written to Oodej, of Laty'aBadl
notoriety, u- n Ihe subject of abort hair for
ladie- Bei g one of these eccentric Individ-
ments of honor and uprig?
the good will and affection of all who knew
him. He had a wife and "six small childen, the
olde?t a boy thirteen years of age. His wife, to
whom be wa* tenderly attached, fell a victim
to disease: an event hastened not improbably
by the inconvenicnv es and sufferings incident
to a state of war, in which the whole family
largely paticipated. Col Hayne himself was
taken prisoner by the British forces, and
jn a short time was executed on the gallowi,
under circinstances calculated to excite the
deepest eommisseration. A great number of
persons, both English and American, interce
ded for his life. The ladies of Charleston
signed a petition in his behalf: his motherless
ment a friendly voice which he did not Lear,
and friendly arms which he could not feel,
were near him.
He was bi ought out ol that overwhelming
flood alive.
Never, perhaps, since the day on whica the
good pastor, Elliott, who, with his eight chil
dren were wrecked ou Norman’s Woe, on the
coast of New Enalund, nearly two centuries
ago, had there been a parallel calamity. The
“alone! ” which fell from his lips mighty W4^1i
have,been deemed the saddest of all wdffls.
None uttered since that fearful night, could so
fully eipress the seuse of that debolojjfoesSl;
whirh-must, »)1 at cnee, have settled upo& hi* •
heart and brain.
There was the same stiffing sense of misery,
ouly half comprehended, for hours; yet the
morning light found him with others, looking
eagerly for the earthly caskets in which the
spirits of his beloved had been enshrined.
They were all found—the children in each
other’s uruis as they had slept, the glad, bright,
cheerful mother, who had been like a gleam of
sunshine—nuy, like a whole flood of sunshine
in the house—and the baby with her little iiu-
gers still tightened over tier brother’s watch,
which had stopped just at the hour in which
the mother had lain her down to open the win
dow, and time, to her, was lost in eternity.
To such a sorrow, God’s own hand can up-
ply the healing. Men may sympathize and
condole but they can never touch the hidden
springs of grief in a heart so bereaved.
Time, the consoler, the healer of wounds
aud drier of tears, may leave him serene and
patient ; and meantime, he will ever feel the
fluttering ol' those white wings above aud
around him, and voices whispering that only
a few short years may pans, and ho will meet
them together 1 —Until thfy be ^-^^janon
Him who “ Bindeth wounds and healct?
hearts.” '
And bo through the whole eight he made
laughing but real objections, and carried off
his little flock entire, nnt a head missing.
Alice wrote to her New England friends gai
ly nnd hopefully. They liked the people, she
aid, and what was of more consequence, the
il gaiety never
ihe wrote to a
aged to preach
sparkling waters
ihat. intervened, an 1 whole hours would flit by
unnoticed in this beautiful spot.
Father and child were all the world to each
other. The wife, and mother had iept beneath
the old chapel floor ever since Ida was an in-
three, days’ growth. The gentle heart
* 3C<1 * high the first development of
principle, was not permitted to
T r--£ t ta the inu?ic of Ida’s voice : but Ba
ron Ettenheim was alike father and mother to
the beautiful child. From the dqy on which
tho gentle Baroness had closed her eyes upon
life, her husband hud rendered every possible
people liked them. Her play
deserted her. At one time
friend, Leonard and 1 are en
next Sunday, thirty miles off.
llcra was the true spirit for
She never damped his zeal nor drew down Jiie
aspirations ; while her? was indeed
• The sunny temper, bright when all is atrifo,
The simple heart that mockaat worldly wile.*,
light wit that plays along the calm of life
And stirs its I/vngird surface into smiles.’’
In a short time the eldest sou obtained a
desirable situation at the Southwest. He was
to have departed
begged hitn
on Monday,
wished it, because it.
happy. “Wife” anti “
some ftcount in
many a wish was hushed, and many a plan
cheerfully resigned, because her feelings
pointed cbewhere.
And another Sabbath was to bo spent to
gether. It was November, and the streams
were fust tilling up with the autumnal rain?.
Once more the mother sat in her own pew,
with her husband in the pulpit, her boy be-
:-ide her. strong and manly enough to look up
on ns a protector, should aught befall the frail
being who was standing there in the attitude
of prayer. On the other scuts were, all the
children except the baby, and she bad been
who can tee no^P^WTy’wTisTextr in “ don&Wp 1 m
hair.* 4 We append the letter wiih a fall, frte,
and forcible endorsement :
•* I know, Mr. Godey, to an absolute cer
tain I y, from both reason and experience, that
short hair would be a great comfort and conve
nience, and a real Lbetiny to woman-kind eve
rywhere. Any intelligent lady or gentlemen
must admit that it is a great tax upon ns to
have so much hair to be done up and arranged
every day, and sometimes oftener for a com
mon lifetime—amounting to many thousand
times—jufet to suit a foolish fashion, and be
cause our mothers and grandmothers did be
fore us. Men have not submitted and will
not submit to this iuconvenicnc*', yet women
lutvo to. Long hair, to the sick aud afflicted
women everywhere over the world, is abso
lutely a burden, and to all others it U a great
and useless inconvenience. And where is the
• glory ’ of all * its fair length,' so much talked
about, when done up iu a knot on the back of
tho head ? It in nonsense to talk of its length
aa iU chief element of beauty when that qual
ity fai forever ooneealed from human gaze, as
it ig |a the done-op style, which makes it to all
intants and purposes even shorter than the
men's. Where* then, Is iu beauty? Are
ibaa* knot* af hair oa tbo back of our heads
no vary httpdbone?—this round, knotted, im-
-priUcad apaa which git*a oa * conception of
anythin *fa# except th* length of * lady**
hill t 1l«it f- oaerlfea the health of the
heir, i«*»a**m, U# MW «*•**, the eom-
twtof thff weaw, tho natural shape of the
l**d, aau»U tfctofl* else, for tho take of the
ar AnhtifcyWhkh. after all, we do not
tf lr t§ mXffle; met even as
[ meh asj* tha mtjjf abort style. Let me
Suturdny, but his mother
> stay and commence his journey
ind he yielded. His father* too,
would make Alice bo
‘mother” were terms of
Leonard Stone’s family, and
was
w he brought down
to minister to the
md it was his own
wants
hand? that dressed and undressed, and rocked
the cradle of his
down Hit* powerful
which he had heard tender mothers sing to
thpir Infant 9.
As Ida grew old enough to accompany him,
he ijarely left the castle without her. Hunt
ing jn the wild forest, around the Rhine, or
boating on its calm surface, on long summer
days—those summer days, so soft, serene aud
clotvJles*—^or spurring his spirited horse along
is and, perhaps, into the flood itself*
Id»s£as still by his side, fearless and trusting
when he was by, us if his arm could avert nil
i evilTVom his child.
A rare sight was it. to the simple villagers at
thei* doors, when Baron Ettenheim and the
Lady Ida rodo by—he so stately and grand,
jiidtfthe so bright and happy looking; her
sHh^^ave set as in a golden frame, with the
r»bright tresses of he; radiant hair, which
? Vather would not permit her to wear other-
Alian floating carelessly upon her fair
darling, while he softened
voice to the gentle lullaby
wheo he had gone she
spent a part of every day there, reading his
poetry or warbling the songs he had sung, and
passing hours beneath the tree where she had
As the service proceeded, the interest in
creased ; nor did it slacken to the close of a
sermon which all were free to say hud never
been surpassed in that pulpit.
The services were over, and the church
emptied. The two fair, young girls, us usual
were companions in their walk home, and ihe
conversation of course turned upon the mini.—
ter. The eldest girl, Alice Fleming, remarked
that it was very sad to see him bo afflicted, as
it would make him a lonely man. It was so
desirable that a minister should he mar
ried.
“ And why should not he ?” asked Mary
Dale.
••Why ? Because surely no one would mer
ry on* ao painfully injured. And yet, Mary,
could there be a more beautiful countenance f
Ho reminds m* of a picture I bar* lean of tho
Moved John.”
j Tho ward* vara forgotten by the speaker aa
Mt as attend, bat they war* afterward r»-
Onc year went slowly after auother, and
each one rani; out a drearier knell to Ida’s
heart. No tidings came from Roland. Where
was that faithful heart whose love had waked
tho echo in her own ? Time went slowly on
without solving thin anxioua .mentioning, and
Ida’s lip palnd and her cheek lost its flush, and
hor eyes their sparkle.
Yet not even this visible decay of her beauty
abated the persecution she had undergone from
the first period of Rona'd'e absence, from oth
er knights. For her sake, strife and battles
were rife among those who aspired to her
hand ; blood was shed, and even human life ta
ken in one instance.
Blok, and weary of life, the maid of Dra-
chanfala mad* oa* request of her father. It
was that ha should baitew upon bar th* little
Island which ah* prised ao rnnok, where she
ooold retire from th* parseeatioM a* painful
to hor.
Aorlhrrnert IlmmyraMj South Yesterday's
train to Nashville took away two welt-to-do
ommlgranls, that we know of, who have for
sakes tho North la make their homos in tho
southern clime. On* of them ia from New
I ork, where ha kas disposed of his property
Eassed lbs first eighteen yean of Ida's
f which eneh hour had its separata oharm,
her father's enduring lov*. No cloud
Lyet-dieturl>ed the pure other above bar
ay. Her existence flowed on as unakad-
jss th* sunny river that ran at th* feat of
