Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

pcuotcl) ter £it overture, Science, uitfr 3lvt, t!)c 00110 of iLcntpcvcncc* JTolluvDstyip, Jltcioouvj), ottii (Scnevcrt intelligence* lOLI'ME I. Ws% iSSfBP BOSfB I. I THE blessing of the fountain. BY ELIZABETH BARBER. s lionc the light of the Summer skies ;Q n t ] ie Fountain’s silver rain, \Vhere the children gazed with their earnest eyes, While tuneful notes of sweet surprise, Their merry laugh and their joyous cries, Made with the fountain's melodies \ sweet harmonious strain. \ thoughtful scholar thither strolled, And looked on the diamond spray, p ut -} iC fount he sought, its name was told In quaint devices, and rhyme enrolled On the legendary page of old, — | )r ink was damp with a century’s mould, And it lay ’mid ruins gray. A poet paused amid the train And his “heart of hearts” was stirred, For it seemed to him that that silvery strain, Like the drooping of the early rain Or the half-remembered low complain— Os songs no voice might sing again In his boyhood’s visions heard. And another looked with thoughtful eye On the Fountain’s sparkling spray, And he dreamed of that fount that used to be, In the fields-of his early years gone by, When an angel stood entrcatingly — hut now at last, the fount was dry, And “ the angel had turned away.” And one whose innocent days were o'er Came slowly loitering by, And she thought of the brook by the homestead door. And her girlhood's happy hours of yore ; She quietly turned away once more— And tears she ne’er had wept before Were in her sunken eyes. The old man heard and thought that day Os a green and sheltered nook, Where the scattered friends, who were far away, Some who now in the church-yard lay, And some whose locks like his were gray— Used of old with him to play, Bv the side of a running brook. Oh singing Spirit, dear thou art! A blessing comes with thee. A song and smile for every heart Whence sweet responsive echoes start, Joy of the field, and crowded mart Os Nature’s loveliest gifts a part, Spirit of Melody! OBIQIBAIi f AIB. WJ.VmM’’LT.’ - - ■■ --- ■ ‘■ 1 * For a Friend of the Family. ROSALIE DA VINCI. BY MISS SUSAN A. STUART. Chap. I. “Such around her shone The nnmeless charms unmarked by her alone: The light, of love, the purity of grace, The mind, the music breathing from her face, The heart whose softness harmonized the whole, And, Oh! that eye was in itself a soul! ” Bride of Abydos. Rosalie, the Italian Girl!—“ Tis nothing but a romantic love story’, not worth reading ! For my part, I’ll have none of it, and will not encourage the committing to paper such.love-sick vagaries.” Such, probably, will be the exclamation of some plain matter-of-fact person, or some would-be critic; and right glad will 1 be, if they keep their words, and literally will have none of it. It is not tor such I would write, but for those who can sympathize for all those deep-felt, long-cherished feelings which for a brief moment lit up an ex istence with an unearthly joy, and which though garnered up with a life-like tenacity, were soon 10 be laid waste before a shrine whose idol has fallen or fled: such, then, lend me their hands whilst, Asmodeus like, I conduct them to a fairy in Italy, where all they must do, is to open heir eyes—with all indulgence to me* —and ob scr r \ e * With this preamble I will on. The gorgeous, bright glow of an Italian sun set falls on a small vine-covered cottage, making the light green trellice-work look like gold, and throwing a rosy tint over that part of the pure .it® frame, ‘that the creeping clematis or bang jasmine allowed to show itself. The per- a *thousand flowers is. floating through the \vith Sm ? mer . a * r ’ ma king even the passer-by loiter the 1 a an Bu'd>8 u 'd> half delicious sensation. ‘ I think fknw - S i a * wa y s something in the fragrance of ei > tna t pre-dispose the mind to sentiment, ij f U sw eet thoughts that come in g u from the maiden fancy, and fly oil music to the skies, and then are lost, Ahese ever streaming odors—” At a window which is nearly o’erhung with a in U sh tenn ® ora ’ stands a young girl, employed j, 1 n f at m °st gentle and feminine task, trimming e kagrant branches around the lattice, and giv -8 them a tendency to suit her taste. The hand hhits light tapered fingers, together with the r Un * a * r arm, might indeed serve, one ot her either as a model for painting or rapture. But, ah! you have caught a glimpse ler upturned face, and I see both hand and rrr *are forgotten. Well! I’m not surprised, or . * ‘ ‘ ■ ‘’ ‘ rather, I should be so at your even remembering your own identity as you gaze on the loveß vision. It is one of those faces through the eyes of which the very soul as it were, is visible; brilliant, yet softened both by intellect and feeling, passionate dark eyes, which seem actually to flash when excited; or else so subdued, so tender when under the influence of more softened sentiment, as to make you forbode for their possessor some mysterious fate, of which the shadow o’er those eyes seem but the presentiment. And the skin, the sott, clear olive of the south, mantled as it now is with the vivid red, the effect of exertion. Picture to yourself these, accompanied, by the rosy, smiling mouth, around whose lips the dim ples, w T ith an expression of determination, con tend ; the straight nose with its thin nostrils, the narrow, arched brow, and the soft, silky, curling brown hair, loosely knotted with one or two long ringlets behind the small ear; and she stands be fore you : the heroine of my simple story, the Italian Girl—“ Rosalie Da Vinci.—Hark! she sings, and in her rich voice, there is such sweetness, that the very bird on wing poises himself in the air, trying to catch the melody as it gushes forth, and then hies himself to his green home and trills forth as impromptu the borrowed strains; whilst his pleased mate listens fondly to what she imagines improvised by bis love. “Ah! obstinate, you will not stay as I place you;” was the exclamation which interrupted the song of Rosalie, as the cluster of roses, which she had fastened up, now fell walk their own weight—“ but, you shall, for Charles told me he wished I had trained you over the casement, and now, over it you shall go;” —and, again the joyous feelings of the maiden broke forth in song. “Always gay, Rosalie, mia , ” said a young gentleman who at that instant entered the little gate, and he spoke with an air of pique—“always singing and happy when with your flowers, that! sometimes fear to intrude, lest my presence may break the enchantment.” “ Ah ! Charles, is it you ?” but why, why scold me for singing, or at least, why speak thus?” and the gladsome voice with which she com menced took a tone of reproach and sadness. Well! dearest, pardon me, but I cannot bear even a rival in your thoughts, and am always fearful that even for one moment you should cease to think of me; and you know,” and as he spoke, he placed his arm around Rosalie’s slight waist — “I could not live if such were the case ; and sing ing too so gleefully, and I not b} T ANARUS!” “ But, Charles, I was altering the vine, because you suggested, and was singing your favorite song.” “Again pardon, and now thank you for attend ing my wishes, which were idle, for what should I wish for when I have thee. Whew! here Car lo,” cried he, as a splendid animal bounded over some boxes, in which flourished beautiful plants, “here, sir,” and the obedient dog came at the command looked up in his master’s face, and then quietly followed him and Rosalie into the cottage, where signora Theresa, Rosalie’s aunt, sat at the little round table, on which was spread* their re past. This evening was but a repetition of many which preceded it, and yet, Rosalie always thought the last one the happiest had ever spent in her life. Happy in his company, loving him with all the ardor of her clime and temperament, she, in her devotion, anticipated his every wish, sung when he asked her, or listened to his accents, so low that Aunt Theresa could not catch the slight est whisper, the subject may be guessed, and “ speak low when you speak love.” But, one sad revelation did Rosalie hear on this particular evening, which paled her cheek and made her breath come quickly. It was that Charles had received letters of recall from home, from Lng land ; and though he spoke of the impossibility of parting, even for a space of time, yet Ilosalie knew it must be, and her woman’s heart felt all the agony of the parting by anticipation. They had first met some twelve months back, when Signor Da Vinci, a celebrated musical o-enius, lived in Naples, Charles Lauriston had been introduced to Da Vinci by some ol his own countrymen then in Naples, and delighted with music, listened with a love of it almost equal to the enthusiastic Italians, in his favorite sonata s. Some three months went by, and the intimacy which had progressed very rapidly, was at a stand still; for the Signor bad removed from Naples, and Charles, either through forgetfulness, or not thinking of its being requisite, was not invited to visit him in his cottage home. Thus, with the reserve of his countryman, and fearing to intrude he hesitated seeking him out, though be really missed his company, for many and many of the listless hours ot the day, when Charles found him self too languid for exertion were cheered by his delightful music. Signor Da Vinci, on the other hand, had never failed praising his young English friend to his sis ter, Signor Theresa, and to Rosalie, Avho, almost SAVANNAH, GA., THURSDAY. AUGUST 30, 1849. a prisoner we may say, to the close practice to which her father obliged her to attend, had no opportunity of judging for herself of his worth as she had not as yet seen him. Os an imagina tive turn, as most persons reared in solitude or with persons much older than themselves .gener ally are. She had begun indulging in the idle habit of day-dreaming, and unconsciouslv and imperceptibly, Charles Lauriston became the hero of all her schemes. Her father’s health, by this time, began to fail so rapidly, that he was con fined to his room, and she, of necessity, as well as from the natural promptings of affection, was obliged to be constantly with him. At this crisis, a whim entered the old man’s head, that if he could sec Charles to converse with him, he should feel better. Rosalie, ever ready to amuse her father despatched a note by the servant who was to guide the English gentleman to the cottage. That evening, wearied with her constant at tendance, and her father being asleep, she stole out for a walk. On her return she found Charles Lauriston, and was struck by his fair English look and distingue appearance, and He, on the other hand, was astonished by the “ vision of beauty,” who entered so softty and gracefully ; and being withall of a very susceptible nature, was ready at the close of the evening to swear himself her vassal for evermore. What a pity that those who most generally make such decla rations, should oft times be the first to forswear themselves. Well! a year has passed since then, and that small space of time fled, not without making its i , t O progress by its sorrows, its joys. The father had died, and Rosalie, tho’ she sorrowed after him much and long, appeared to feel as if God in his taking him who was old, infirm, and mentally weakened, had given her one in his stead on whom she could cast her affection ; and thus she loved, as from an obligation for his attention to her, and sympathy with her, during the first months of her bereavement, and like the graceful tendril which must cling to something, so she to him, prepared for it by her father’s praises of his young friend, her own wild imaginings, his sub sequent devotion, arid we all know, “ That accident, blind contact, and the strong Necessity of loving have removed Antipathies.” Yes, Rosalie loved for tlie first time, and was her self beloved, and time glided on with them sweetly as floats a “ summer sea,” till Charles’ recal, as spoken of before in this same chapter. CHAP. 11. “Oil, Heaven! were man But constant, he were perfect; that one error Fills him with faults ; makes him run thro’ all sins.” Skakspeare. The morning was a bright frosty one in Decem ber. The hedges though stript of their green still seemed beautiful, though its aspect changed from the thousand reflections sent forth from the tiny diamonds, clustering on every bough, and the air had all the brightness of summer. The ring ing sounds sent forth as the high mettled steeds swept along the road, seemed to exonerate the spirits of the pair, seated within the light carriage, and jokes and confidences were freely exchanged. “By Jove, Charles,” cried the elder of the 3’oung men, to our old acquaintance. “You ap pear to carry off the good will of the mamma as readily as you have borne .off the love ol the fair daughter from us poor mortals. How do you manage man ? Say ? For I cant see why you should be preferred so immeasurably. Some trick, I dare say, you have learnt from some ol them old Italian necromancers, among whom you sojourned so long ; come, tell me the secret; I cannot expect to rival you with the fair Annie, but 1 may make myself irresistible among some of the beauties whom lady Woodley has collected together to spend the Christmas.” Pshaw ! Dennie, you who have been for the last two years the “ glass of fashion,” and the breaker of hearts, to ask such questions! Though, by-the-bye, there is nothing like wakening up some of childhood’s remembrances the hearts of some fair ones. Lady Annie and myself, some six years ago, swore eternal fidelity to each other. I, on returning to college, after one ol the long vacations, which I spent cooped up at Lauriston Park with a broken arm, and when my lady mother was receiving, among other guests, lady Woodley and daughter, and she went to rusticate anew in the shades of Woodley Hall, and to per fect herself in those acoomplishments which have since aided her great beauty in making such a sensation in the fashionable world.” • “But, Charles, I remember when you met her scarce a twelve month since, }’ou seemed not to recognise her?” “In truth, I did not,” said Charles. “You must know that at the time you speak of, I was entirely under the spell a little Italian had cast over me, and even Annie’s familiar face was not recognised. Poor Rosalie! 1 believed, vvithou vanity, she loved me for myself alone, and I can’ for my life divest myself of the idea that the foe establishment mingles not a little with Annie’s dream of love. By-the-hye Dermic, I must tell you y when I get into one of my sentimental moods, about Rosalie.” “We are almost at Woodley Hall, at this time, or I should call for the recital at once, for when in lady Annie’s presence, adieu to confidences, you seem to have no eves, ears, or tongue for any mortal but her fair self.” Twilight had deepened into night, as the young men arrived, anti after adjusting their dress, entered the drawing rooms. Many persons were assembled there, but conspicuous among them was Charles Lauriston’s bdle fiancee , lady Annie Woodley. There was less of the heart in the smile with which she received him than Rosalie would have given him after a day’s absence. He had not seen lady Annie for a fortnight! “What detained you?” was the enquiry of lady Woodley, of Charles. “We expected you some days back.” “ Engagements, impossible to escape, I assure your Ladyship, we were detained against our wish.” “You* have come in time for the part} 7 at Mrs. Marchments,” said lady Annie. “Mamma se cured you an invitation, as we intend going.” “It seems,” said Col. Joynes, “ that Mrs. Marchment intends this party by the way of an introduction into life, of a young foreigner she has brought from the continent. A peerless beauty they say, and wealthy too, it was told me by some one, that in the stay they made in Paris, she cap tivated the hearts of every one, and among others the Earl of Orford. ’Tis a pity since her advent among us, that our disagreeable climate should have caused her entire seclusion as yet. Some cold she has taken caused Mrs. Marchment to hurry her down to the place for quiet and musing, and so to beautify before her introduction into our beau inonde .” “Well done, Joynes, you at least, are quite au fait to the doings at Marchment Place,” said Dennie ; but this lady, Italian I think, I too have heard of her, and am prepared to say she is the “ Queen of Beauty.” “ I shall positively fear to encounter her to morrow,” Said lady Annie, with her own bright smile of conscious loveliness, “ for in truth she must be beautiful if she has animated that piece of machinery, the Earl of Orford, into life by the. magic of her charms. Ah ! me ! I fear my reign is over, and I shall be pronounced passec ; and as she spoke she moved from the group and seated herself at a table filled with engravings, where Charles Lauriston soon followed her. Chap. hi. “Alas! the love of !—it is known To be a lovely, and a fearful tiling; For nil of theirs upon that die is thrown And if ’tis lost, life hath no more to bring To them, but mockeries of the pjfst alone Byron. Marchment Place was an antique mansion, about six miles from Woodley Hall. Its present proprietor had come into the property when quite young, and though, when married, he had modern ised and adorned the interior, be had allowed the old house itself to retain its outward appearance of gloomy grandeur. In a pretty bourdoir, filled with rich furniture, and all those nameless luxuries attendant on wealth and rank, sat two ladies. The elder seem ed about thirty, a pretty, lively woman, dressed in a fashionable morning costume ; but her com panion appeared much younger, though her atti tude full of grace, but also ot listlessness, be-* tokened both languor and depression of spirits. Her face was so varying that ’twas impossible to judge if the latter was habitual, for occasionally a smile would wreath her mouth into a succession of bright dimples, evanescent, ’tis true, but the more beautiful for that very reason, and with the smile came that radiance of look, as if it “Rung from her very soul; And w here it most sparkled, no glance could discover, In lip, cheek, or eyes, for she brightened all over— Yet when it ceased, again those deep eyes looked melan choly/’ “ Come, cheer up, my sweet Rose,” said Mrs. Marchment, “ for I want all your beauty, and more than your present quantity of smiles for my party to-night. This Earl of Orford has writ ten an acceptance for the invitation sent him, and Lady Woodley comes with all her visiters from Woodley Hall. Pray don’t disappoint me in the triumph I anticipate over her; since her daughter’s engagement to young Lauriston —” what more Mrs. Marchment meant to have added is not known, for Rosalie sank back, pale and half-fainting, and her friend affrighted, sprang up to assist her. “ Excuse me, my dear, I know you must be exhausted, and I to be so selfish as to forget your NUMBER 26