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en ; and so, like a man, he got over his
mortification ; and, like a philosopher, re
solved to let the ascertaining of facts
precede the construction of a theory. .For
a long time he was in great distress as
to how to get introduced ; he thought of
wyting her a sensible letter, and then he
thought that was not the most sensible
way of going about the business; then
he wished he had courage to address her
personally, and then he was afraid of a
repulse; but at last he made a confident
of his sister, and she took up the affair
with an energy that was sure to result
in success. One or two apparently casual
meetings were contrived, during which
‘‘Plumb-colour” was successful in convin
cing the fair lady, that though he might
be a philosopher, he was not quite a fool;
and Harry, on his part, saw that though
the handsome girl laughed heartier and
oftener than seemed becoming in the fu
ture wife of a philosopher, she vet had a
heart, and her beauty was only the set
ting of a gem.
Eliza required a little time before she
could fairly say that the “philosopher”
had won her heart. She had shrewdness
enough to remark, long before they be
came acquainted, that there was some
thing uncommon about “Plum-colour,”
and she often had wished to know “what
kind of a fellow he was; but his sup
posed boorishness, his somewhat plain
appearance, and the ludicrous associations
excited by the nick-name in the lively
girl’s fancy, had all tended to repress
any sentiment of what may be termed
“love.” Gradually, as their meetings
became more frequent, did all these re
pelling ideas vanish. Greater familiarity
enabled Harry to feel less restrained in
her company ; the desire of pleasing and
the power of pride came to his assist
ance, and drew out characteristics hith
erto unknown to exist in his disposition;
and association with a graceful girl, whose
intellect possessed a natural tact, and her
manners a natural delicacy, gave a tone to
Harry’s own manners, which delighted
his sisters, and made his mother wonder.
He no longer shut himself up, like an as
cetic, as if despising all around him ; he
came out ot his cell, and walked around.
Light-hearted as Eliza seemed, and ready
to make the air ring with her merry
laugh at the veriest trifle, she yet could
pause to listen to her “philosopher,”
when he descanted on higher and graver
themes. Greedily she inclined her ear
to hear him talk of wonders in the heaven
above and in the earth beneath; and he,
delighted with his apt and affectionate
pupil, exerted himself till his voice be
came musical,and his language eloquence.
Often and often have they walked under
the starry canopy of night, he speaking of
the boundless universe of the infinite
God, and she listening, as if the spirit of
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
awe had come down to abide in her
heart. Often and often have they wan
dered by the banks of the stream, and
talked of their meeting on the bridge ;
and then she, becoming a more enthusi
astic “philosopher” even than he, would
question him about the sun, and light,
and heat, and the composition of the wa
ter that flowed at their feet, and the
growth of the trees which shaded their
path. To both anew world was opened ;
he, rich in the happiness which the love
of a confiding girl creates ; and she, rich
er even still in that exquisite joy produ
ced in a pure-minded heart by reposing
on the affection of one who was at once
an instructor, a friend, and a lover. Yes!
there is true, genuine, unalloyed pleasure
in such a courtship as we have been de
scribing; and more of it would be en
joyed, it we were less affected and more
trusting—more anxious to establish an
affection which will endure for a life, than
to match from a momentary admiration.
Some six months had elapsed since the
courtship commenced ; and to both the
time had been but as a pleasant day.
Ihe winter set in; and one night, after
attending a crowded meeting, the lovers
were foolish enough to walk about till
the cold drove them homewards, receiv
ing on their way a drenching from a
shower of rain. Eliza caught a cold,
which settled into a dry, distressing
cough; and after the spring had set in,
instead ot getting rid of it, as Harry had
fondly predicted she would, it seemed
rather to acquire greater strength. A
roseate tinge began to play over her
face ; but Harry, with all his science, had
not experience enough to enable him to
understand the warning which it gave.
He called one day ; she was very cheer
ful ; her eye had an almost supernatural
brilliancy ; the crimson of her cheek was
of the richest die of Heaven; and her
transparent skin seemed scarcely to con
ceal the coursing of her “eloquent blood.”
Harry thought he had never seen a more
glorious creature in human shape, and he
burst out with “My angel”—
“Hush, Harry,” she said, interrupting
him ; “why should you talk nonsense”
you know 1 am not an angel, and it does
not become a sensible man, like you, to
say so.”
Why, Eliza, I am so glad to see you so
much better; I never saw r you so charm
ing in your life ; I am sure you must be
much better.”
“Do not be too sure, Harry, about
any thing. Come here, Harry, and sit
down beside me. There, that will do.
Now, Harry, look me steadily in the face.”
Harry laughed, looked her steadily in
the face, and then kissed her. “Now
Eliza, will that do ?”
“Yes, that will do; but I want you to
be serious.”
“Why, now, that is very good of you.
Often have I wished you to be serious,
and you have as often laughed in my
face.”
“Harry—would you like to lose me?”
lie started to his feet, repeating “Lose
you ! lose you !—what?”—
He paused ; and as he gazed on her sol
emn, yet animated aspect, the truth sud
denly flashed upon him ; and he beheld
the word “consumption” visible in her
lovely countenance.
Harry was at first stupified ; but on
learning that some chance yet remained
from removal to milder air, he set to
work to prove that his aifection lay in his
heart, Assiduous were all his attentions ;
he accompanied her on her journey, and
put his invention to task to fender ab
sence as endurable as possible. The sum
mer passed away drearily ; hope and fear
alternately counterbalanced each other ;
now would Eliza write, to say that she
felt herself surprisingly well, and again
would the mother send up a desponding
message. After some months, homeward
came the invalid, for she longed to see
home once more, and she said, “If it is
to be, I should like to have Harry beside
me when I die !” And when Harry, on
her arrival, took her in his arms and
helped her up stairs, something seemed
to whisper to him, “It is to be ;” and so
all he could say to her was, “Eliza!—
dear Eliza !” and then he sobbed pas
sionately.
Eliza had been dull and miserable in
the country ; but now that she was home
again, and had Harry beside her, she be
came cheerful, and even lively. “Harry,”
she said to him one day, “and so, my
own philosopher, you are going to lose
me!”
“Eliza—Eliza—do not be so cruel—
oh, do not talk in that way.”
“Nav, Harry,” she added, “do not
think I talk in a tone of bravado or af
fected carelessness. I perfectly feel that
death is an awful thing, and I would wish
to live, if it were only for you!”
Harry stooped forward and kissed her,
and bathed her cheek with a tear.
“Harry,” she again said, “do you re
member that passage which you once re
peated, and which 1 repeated after you,
without missing a word? Well, now, I
will repeat it again, so as just to show
you what a good memory l have—
“Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot:
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod : and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ;
To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,
And blown, with restless violence round about
This pendent world, or to be worse than worst
Os those, that lawless and uncertain thoughts
Imagine howling !—’t is too horrible !
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury and imprisonment
[■October 30,