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About A Friend of the family. (Savannah, Ga.) 1849-1??? | View Entire Issue (April 19, 1849)
Dniofcii to Citcraturc, Bcicnce, anb Art, tljc Sons of temperance, oi>i> jTelloroslpp, ittasonrn, anb General intelligence. VOLUME I. SOIfRf. THE WANTON SUN BEAM. I cam-? upr>n her quickly ! She was sitting Upon a bank embrowned in the shade : AH round about, the sun brums bright were flitting, But did not dure to coma where she was laid; But. like some gleaming guards about a portal, Who witch,, but yet to enter are afraid, So they, as angels around a mortal, Did keep around and guard that lovely maid. But one bright sun-beam pierced the twilight b nver ; He thrust aside the leaves that made that shade; And softly, as the zephyrs touch a flower, He fell into her arms and o'er her bosom stray’d : And wanton kiss’d her cheek, her lips, her hair, — “Oh, love!” I cried, “that I-a sunbeam were ! ” THE TRUE HEARTS ASPIRATIONS. I would be thine ! Oh, not to learn the anguish Os being first a deity enshrined, 7’lien, when the fever fit is past, to languish, Stripp'd of each grace that fancy round mo twined ! Not such the lot I crave ! I would be thine ! Not in bright summer weather, A sunny atmosphere of joy to breathe ; But fear and tremble when the storm-clouds gather, Aud shrink life’s unrelenting doom beneath, Failing when needed most. I would be thine ! To lo3e all selfish feeling In the sole thought of thee, far dearer one ! To study every look thy will revealing, To make thy voices ever-varying tone The music of my heart. 1 would be thine ! When sickness doth oppress thee, With love’s unwearied vigilance to watch Waking—to soothe, to comfort, to caress thee; Sleeping—to list in dread each sound to catch, Th\* slumbers that might break. I would be thine ! When vexed by worldly crosses, To cheer thee with affection’s constant care, To stay thee ’neath the burden of thy losses, By shewing thee how deeply thou art dear, — 31 ost so in the distress, I would be thine ! Gently and unreplying To bear with thee, when chafed and spirit worn, The hasty word, the quick reproach, denying, But by the soft submission which is born Os stedfast love alone. I would be thine ! My world in thee to centre, With all its hopes, cares, fears, and loving thought; No wish beyond the home where thou should’st enter, Ever anew to find thy presence brought My life’s best joy. I would be thine ! Not passion's wild emotion To shew the, fitful as the changing wind ; But with a still, deep, fervent, life devotion, To be to thee the help-meet God designed — For this would I be thine ! O&ISIIAi fill Ji Contributed by the Author. NIGHT AND SUNSHINE; OR THE ODD FELLOWS CHRISTMAS GIFT, ( Concluded.) CHAPTER V. Like angels of mercy came the blessed visitors to .er domicil, and the soothing news of her aughter s safety and comfortable situation now, so \\rought on her feeble powers, that she swooned ln 1 ie revulsion of her feelings, but soon partially restored by the kind ministering of her guests, , lss Linton was left by her brother, who went to o Rain such requisites as he saw absolutely nec essary, and with the intention of summoning med joa aid for the exhausted woman —but without , lntl "S latter particular to his sister. In uced by Miss Linton, Mrs. Arden now consented l? 6 er en^ee l ) l et l f° rm upon her couch, erc ’ before many moments had elapsed, nature and she fell into a heavy though yeuneasy Humber. eil me b Eug©ne ! ” said Albert Linton, some time after to a young physician, who chanced to pass by as he emerged from the third undertaker he found necessary to visit before he could obtain one unoccupied and willing to attend the inter ment of the widow Arden, “ I have already been waiting fifteen minutes your return to your office.” “ The deuce you have! and on this inclement night.” “ Well, I’ve a little news for vou,” inter rupted Hamilton, “I have just left Arden, the poor fellow is down again.” “ You don’t say so! why I thought he was en tirely convalescent, and being occupied, I’ve not visited him for a few days. I trust he has not seriously relapsed.” “ If he fails to discover those he is in quest of I fear indeed it will prove so ; as you have taken so much interest in him I will, spite of this con founded nor’-wester, that sets my teeth to clatter ing like castanets, tell you briefly his story, espe cially as it smacks of romance. You know how he raved in his delirium about his family. Well, as soon as he could at all collect bis scattered sen ses, 1 wrote to his wife for him, he being unable himself, but fortunately made out to superscribe it as he said “not to alarm them.” Full tilt comes back an answer, from an old friend of Ins, that as soon as his wife and daughter had, by ac cident, learned his misfortune, they had so precip itately left for Baltimore as not even to withdraw some money from bank, which it seems bis wife possessed ; this, by her written request, he was enabled to procure for them after some delay, and had only mailed it the day previous to his finding a letter in the Post Office, addressed to Mrs. Ar den, knowing it to be her husband’s hand writing, and aware from his wife’s letter of her distress in not being able to find him, he concluded, in the hope of its informing of his residence, to open it, and finding his surmise correct he had written immediately again to Mrs. Arden, of the direction. The letter containing the money, some few hundred dollars, Arden obtained from the Post Office, provokingly, neither gave any clue to find his wife, the superscription being merely “Baltimore,” with her name ; now he is as much in the dark as ever, and half wild with anxiety, he has, for two days past, been searching for his family at every bearding house, hotel, and most likely places for them in vain, besides running al most hourly to the Post Office, his only rational hope, to see if any persons have enquired lor her letters ; and now the fatigue and depression of his ill success, along with the inclement weather, has again prostrated him.” “Poor fellow! his case is truly pitable, to morrow we must assist his search ; but bless me, here we are chatting, and a poor woman all the while needing your assistance sorely, from exces sive weariness and privation. Do for charity’s sake call on her as speedily as possible ; you will find her in street, fourth house from street, as it stands isolated, } T ou cannot fail to find it. Will you go? “Can you doubt it? although I must confess I rather would prefer going to a warm bed than visi ting past midnight, in such a storm; but what must be, must —good night.” “ Good night till I see you for I shall return there directly, myself, but hark ye ! Eugene, be a man —nay, nay ! you’ll discover my meaning be fore morning—so au revoir ! ” cried Albert to the young physician, who was already on his way, whilst he returned to his home for the purpose ol obtaining such articles as he deemed necessary for the house of mourning. CHAPTER VI. “Past one o’clock ! ” cried the watchman, on his round, and the blast moaning dolefully as a funeral knell, bore the solitary stroke to the anx iously waiting watcher by the corpse, drearier vetbeat the hail against the casement, and hoai&er and more fearfully rang the insane laughter o the idiot, plying the wreathing of her long fingers vet more industriously, and glaring with her nvet ted and stonedike gaze, ghastlier than the glazing SAVANNAH, GA.. THURSDAY, APRIL 19, 1849. orbs of the dead over which she bent, on the heart freezing maiden. “ Oh ! I shall go stark mad if Albert does not come—cried Mary Linton in a paroxyism of ter ror. 1 must. —must awaken the poor sleeper then, and as, wild with fear she was about to rise, a slighfknocking was heard at the door —-joyfully throwing it open she exclaimed, “O! I’m so glad you have come. I’ve been frantic with ter ror since—bless me ! you here Dr. Hamilton, I thought it was my brother.” “ What, yov here Miss Mary, 4 ’ responded Dr. Hamilton. “ Your brother did not inform me of the atuiel I should find, like a rainbow in the storm, ministering to the suffering woman I came to visit —bv his direction.” “ A truce to compliments Doctor, or perhaps I might express some admiration of your prompt benevolence. I have persuaded the poor sufferer to rest, and you must judge Sir, if it be expedient to wake her.” “By no means, Miss Linton, as you perhaps can give me all necessary information.” This she did as well as her scanty knowledge itself allowed, not even knowing the name of the family she succoured ; by their united exertions the insane girl was partially quieted. And as Dr. Hamilton watched Miss Linton, now relieved from terror, soothing the restless idiot, the feel ings, which hertofore had been of intense admi ration, now upproached idolatry, and no longer could he restrain the impassioned current. Were not the words of true love holy, we would follow their speaker, where,by the side of suffering, in sanity and death, as the crystal flood burst through the dark and loathsome caverns its unstained waves, he poured forth in all the eloquence of love the avowal of his passion. But we would not desecrate with an unhallowed touch the mys tery. Too soon was the lover interrupted by the clattering of the carriage, and in a moment the door was opened. “ A merry Christmas to all here,” cried Albert entering, “ for midnight is past,” (truly was it) and with a mischevious glance towards his sister, “ I see you have found your patient Doctor —here I have brought you another, who would not re main longer away.” So saving he would have handed Caroline to the fire, but without pausing she was hastily moving to her mother, wnen the Doctor interposed his orders, that she must not disturb her. Lightly imprinting a kiss upon her cheek, the daughter turned with a tear quivering in her eye, veiled beneath the downcast fids that shadowed more of soul than lives beneath the Psyche’s, and with a voice tremulous with mod esty and emotion, so falteringly poured out her sweet gratitude, that the gentleman in very admi ration forgot her embarrassment. But Miss Lin ton with the exquisite tact of woman, appprecia ting her worth, hastily interrupted her, and throw ing her arms around her waist drew her to wards the fire. How exquisitely beautiful did those two fair girls then appear to their young companions. One with the splendid beauty of theAmryllis, the perfect loveliness of the Cam melia Japonica. The other, delicate and lovely as the Harebell or Hybiscus. Have you ever watched the setting sun, when the purple west turned all to burning gold in the gorgeous radi ance poured from his regal urn ; and then cast ing the eye a small space upwards, beheld the cresent moon, like a pure shell of pearl trem blingly and chastely floating through that ocean of magnificence ? Such may have thought Al bert Linton or Eugene Hamilton, a siting emblem of those lovely maidens. Having thoroughly warmed herself, Caroline was now permitted to retire for the purpose of placing the afflicted girl to bed, on whom it was beautiful to see how her presence acted, like oil on the troubled waters, for in her hands she be came tractable as a child. Having left her asleep she returned to the watchers —they not being able to induce her also to retire. The cloak worn by the doctor, had on her withdrawal been thrown over her chair, intending to remove it, she had hardly taken it up before her attention was ri vetted, by beholding the iden tical garment she had presented to her father. Pallid as death, she could but faintly whisper, “The—the—cloak where did it co—come from 1 ” Surprised by the question the doctor not observing her agitation, (his thoughts were bent on Mary) carelessly replied. “The cloak, why —sure enough, I have made a mistake, and inadvertantly picked up a patient’s I just left, instead of my own.” Before the last word was uttered she would have fallen insensibly upon the floor, had not Albert caught her, and as the truth flashed like a sunburst on his mind, with saving a word excepting that he “would instantly re turn,” his carriage was heard driving furiously away. The clouds were breaking! Scarcely was Caroline recovering from her swoon, and endeav oring to regain her scattered senses, whilst Mrs. Arden, who awakened by the placing of her daughter beside her, alarmed, was questioning concerning her, when the carriage again dashed up —the door flew open—one anxious gaze and Charles Arden the next moment was locking to his heart his long parted wife and daughter. An hour afterwards the husband, sitting be tween his wife and daughter, one arm circling each, in the chamber from which the other-actors of the night had gone, remarked, “And so the cloak you had intended tor my christmas gift led J J u to my discovery, truly the doctor made a fortunate error ; but my dear, I hear poor Ira stirring in the next room, had you not better see if all is right.” Scarcely had Caroline been absent a mo ment before she rel urned, crying out, “Wonder upon wonder, Pa, I found Ira rumaging her moth er’s drawers, and just about to tear this packet, which, will you believe it, is addressed to Charles Arden, Esq. Can it possibly father be for you ?” “ Truly this night has been so prolific of strange events that I shall venture to open it at all haz ards, as it certainly bears my name. What say you Caroline, shall I take this as your Christmas present?” “See!” continued he, “how glori ously the sun is scattering the clouds in rising, let us accept the omen,” and so saying, he broke the envelope and read the following communication, “To Charles Arden Esq., only son of the late William Arden, Merchant of New York. “ Having waited now in the vain hope of see ing you for several months, since an advertise ment was inserted in several of the city papers, requesting your attention and personal interview with the legal house of in this place. I cannot yet deny myself the anticipation that should I be fated to depart this life without meet ing vou this will reach your eye. “I write humbly to beg your forgiveness for so long withholding from your possession the wealth which of right is yours. Possibly it may weigh as some extenuation, that I am entitled to hold it by virtue of your father’s last will. But this is no cover to myself for my crime, as knowing that on his death bed, had his sufferings not been so acute as to deprive him of the ability ot cancel ling it, and feeling certain from his intense long ing, and his promises and offers to you, when in delirium he imagined you present, that he would have bequeathed to you the bulk of his posses sions. I cannot feed at peace without craving vour pardon, as I have done that of the Power which opened my eyes to my crime, and restored the proporty I have so wrongfully withheld. “ To your brotherly offices I also entrust the charge of my afflicted daughter Ira, and in case of her death, bequeath to you all the property which may descend to her at my decease. “By reference to the above legal advertise ment, you will find, should you not yet have ob tained possession—by money deposited, subject to your order, in stocks, shipping, a country resi dence, and town house, et cetera, effects, in all NUMBER 7.
