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pcyo!ci> to iitcvoturc, Sricntc, nni> tljc Sous of (temperance, ©&Et- iTcllotusljtp, ittasonrp, anil (Pcuevot 3ntclligciuc.
(OLDIE 1
poet ST.
, LIKE an open, honest heart.
by CHARLF.S K. JORDAN.
1 like an open, honest heart,
Where frankness loves to dwell,
Which has no place for base deceit,
Nor hollow words can tell;
But in whose throbbings plain are seen
The import of the mind,
Whose gentle breathings utter nought
But acceuts true and kind.
| scorn the one whose empty acts
And honied words of art
Betray the feelings of the soul
With perfidy’s keen dart;
No more can friends in such confide,
Nor in their kindness trust,
for black ingratitude but turns
Pure friendship to disgust.
Contempt is but a gentle word,
A feeling far too mild, %
For one who confidence betrays,
And guilt has s *re beguil’d ;
The hate which hellish fiends evince,
When in dark torments toss’d,
Is not more loathsome to the soul
Than oue to honor lost.
Then give me one whose heart is free,
And gen’rous as the air,
Whose ready hand and greeting kind
Give proof that truth is there ;
Whose smiling countenance well shows
Affection warm is found,
And spirit pure as saints, whose notes
Through heaven’s vaults resound.
ORIGIN a i vAft a.
For A Friend of the Family.
SELF DEVOTION.
BT MISS SUSA* A. STUART.
Concluded,
CHAT V.
“ It is sad
To see the light of beauty wane away,
Know eyes are dimming, bosoms shrivelling, feet
Losing their springs, and limbs their lily roundness;
Hut it is worse to feel our heart-spring gone,
To lose hope, care nor for the coming thing,
And feel all things go to decay with us.”
I What a mournful marriage it was, it was cele
tied in that little parlor about a week later,
Kne present but Mrs. xAJton and Leila's immedi
m> relatives, and she in her dark robes of mourn
| : for her father, stood by the man whom she
Iwd “to love, honor, and obey ” more like a
Bnrble statue than a thing of life, so pale, so
B:<l she appeared, it seemed as if the icy hand
B death had passed o’er that young heart and
Billed forever its pulsations. No notice did she
Bke of things around, but like a school girl un
■oer mortal fear desirous of saying her lesson well.
I Mr. Lustrington after their short tour, conducted
B > young bride to her new home. All outward
Bnpearance of splendor and comfort was there to
Brother, hut now she shrank from them, and
I ‘agreeable as her husband had seemed to her,
B 5” almost felt like clinging to him for protection
she met the icy and stony glances of Slella
BWington, and the open impertinence of her
r fp-daughters, and this to the creature who for
I’d; seventeen years of her brief life had been
■nurtured in a very atmosphere of love.
found herself in the absence of Mr. Lus
nilgton a nonentity in the house of which Stella
U ‘buiereal mistress, for to her did children and
for orders. In her unhappy and
hame of mind she shrank from any-
I f? that must call upon the energy of her na-
B and with the very listlessness of despair
■ 1 ‘ered at the idea of any act calling for ac
■■'e exertion. Her husband still played the lover
I 15 attentions to her, for his vanity had not been
Bounded as yet.
B day they were seated in their magnificent
■er"lf ro ° m ’ u ’hen he placed in her hand a let
|t ,;V: known writing of her brother, di
[ open dS U Forester, ” she hesitated
Jftcn oc ll * that one loved name would
Jveeks tM l ” ere ’ anc * * or rst l^me f° r m anv
Bvifh o J e . 101 colored the once warm cheek
••Win - ul and ra,liant hhisK
■Loil'i ~.i ‘° U not et me see vonr brother’s letter
Kinjr lon CU - ° u k'dve finished it? ” said Mr. Lus
■fftthal) f °he see the letter in which
■W rccei -T u ° IJ kl be a message, such as she
laud wi[J W t ° n . ce before. Never, she thought,
fc°ug| lt Jo , ut aware she was uttering her
I l Wow iT Ud ’ ltlere sounded through the room
I r * ern phatic “ never ! ”
|fc^]V f nri?ton turne J red, and then much dis-
K^tim 6 1 roorn . Without thinking of him
l” er doo r a i lllr * e d to her room, and shutting
l^ e C(j/p’;’ le , aro^e the seal, pale, trembling, as
I. ’ ex Pects to hear sentence of death.
| U:s ( c pl°red his father’s death with much
l le ca^ e \ UI 3e §§ e 4 her to cheer up, and when
■Sector t° [ p e e try to be a father and
0 lls Osiers. A scaled slip was in the
envelope; like one in a dream she opened and
read :
“ Gus has informed me my dear miss Leila of
your sad bereavement, in which it is needless]!
hope, to assure you I most deeply s} T mpathize.—
But through all this darkness of bitter grief, par
don me if I say there is a feeling of such deep
tenderness in my sympathy for you, that I most
ardently wish 1 could fly to your presence to pro
tect, to shield, to love you. Oh! Leila dearest,
you do not know how ardently I cherish every
memory of thee, of your lightest word and tone.
I did not intend you should know it until I could
come and sue you to be mine, but when 1 learned
that you were in trouble, I could not resist the de
sire to tell you that amid all, whether of joy or
sorrow, one heart beats only for you. I know that
l am unworthy of you, that I have not much to
offer, but a love as undying as my own soul, as
tender as that of the mother for her babe. Our
time is up they tell me for our mail, so I must
close. But write me one word of hope that 1
may’ win y r ou at last, and there is nothing of which
I will not feel myself capable.
Ever Yours,
Algernon.”
She sat as if turned to stone, and then folding
the letter, hid it in her bosom. No tears catne ;
arid only the low, sobbing sigh, which ever and
anon broke from her lips, spoke of her vitality.—
A summons to dinner—she opened the door, but
told them she wished none.
No tender voice soothed her—no second sum
mons called her; but it was not thought of by
her, for she had not well awakened from her stu
por, and thought not how cold, how unfeelingthey
were. One faithful heart was there however.—
Rosa, who had accompanied her young mistress
after her marriage, returned with her to her new
home. It was her who now sought her in her
grief, and sat in the doorway regarding her as she
thus sat mutelv motionless.
“ Would you not like to see Mrs. Alton, my mis
tress ? ” said she, at last, “You do look so
strange ! ”
“No one \ T et Rosa; God will keep me.”
“ What have they been doing to you my dear
mistress ? ” said the faithful creature, “ Has that
awful woman been doing or saying anything?”
By this time she was kneeling, with streaming
eyes before Leila, hut she still continued silent.
“They will kill you, [ see,” cried the poor
nurse, now beside herself with fear “and Mr.
Lustrington is no better than they. Oh, how 1
hate them all! ”
“ You do, do you, Miss Impudence,” said Miss
Stella, who had entered without knocking, “ I
will tell tm cousin what a snake he has in the
house. Your mistress, I think, ought not to al
low you, a servant, to speak ot her husband and
his relations as she allows you to speak without
any rebuke, sitting so silent and encouraging your
impudence. 1 wonder Ella Lustrington can rest
in her grave with all that is passing here, in her
C 1 i
house, her children, and her husband abused by
the negro wench who comes with the person who
tries to usurp her place ! ” and she flung herself
in a great rage from the room.
•Leila, by this time really overcome, was per
suaded by Rosa to lie down. That evening she
received a cold note from her husband, telling
her that he had come to the conclusion that ii
would he better for all parties that she should
see as little as possible of her sisters, as she
seemed to separate their love and interests en
tirely from him and his, and as she bore his name
now, it was time she should learn to feel some in
terest in her new relations. Further, that he
would take it as a personal favor it she would send
her maid Rosa hack to Mrs. Alton, as he had un
derstood she was constantly giving impertinence
to his cousin and his children, and he wished his
wife to he waited on only by his own servants !
And this was the end of her pure, heart sacri
fice. This, from the man who had promised to
“love, cherish, and protect her.” But Mr. Lus
trington was a weak-minded, jealous, thoroughly
selfish man, who loved her after a fashion, hut
finding it was not returned as he thought she
should for his attentions for a few weeks, al
lowed himself to listen to a fiend in the shape of
Stelia Lustrington.
CHAP. VI.
Death lies on lier, like an untimely frost
Upon the sweetest flower of ajl the field.
Months have and on suict D
A (rain we see Leila. But a striking change is here.
Could you think that this frail creature had ever
been the gleesome, gladsome gil l who was so
fondly loved by her parents, and the sisters ol our
The whole of the family are gathered in her
chamber now —and why ? to watch the last hreat i
as it issues from those pale lips. .
Yes, Leila, our loved, unhappy one, is dying.
For months has the destroyer been slowly sapping
the life from her veins, touching so slowly with
SAVANNAH, GA.. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1849.
his icy fingers that no one knew it but herself.—
And she dies a martyr —yes,a martyr to a system
of persecution from that flinty hearted monster,
Stella Lustrington, aided by the weak minded
husband who, thoroughly steeled by his selflsh
jealousy, listened to all the suggestions of the
wretch ; and, if not an active party, became a
passive witness to the scenes of persecutions
which that } T oung creature sustained so uncom
plainingly, so angelically, like the meek and
Holy One, never buffeting back again, but when
smitten on one cheek, still turning the other.
At last nature could hold out no longer, and
here lies she on her death bed. The doctors talk
of feeble constitution—of consumption, but every
one knew that her young heart had been trodden
down, and she had been literally killed by their
unkind ness.
Then came back, too late, her husband’s anx
ious tenderness—then were summoned Mrs. Al
ton and her sisters—hut all too late ! As well
think to bring hack to life and bloom the flower
that is trodden under foot by care, as the crushed
blossom which now lies dying before him. One
only thought and wish seems to possess her, “my
brother, has he come ? ” does she whisper ever
as her kind friend bends o’er her.
’ Twas a lovely summer evening. The skv
was mellowing and deepening in its tints from
gold to a richer and softer hue, throwing out in
the Claude Lorraine colouring of the sky and
earth every leaflet and spray against the twilight
vault ; soft breezes too came in through the open
windows and kissed her sunny brow, as she lay
weak and feeble on her couch. All were gath
ered there for she was sinking visibly.
A smile of peace had settled on that whilome
weary face, but she still said ; “my brother, to
see him but once ! ”
Mrs. Alton is called from the chamber. Leila’s
ear, sharpened by the approach of death, has
caught the whispered summons, and with more
strength than was looked for, she half rises, and
says clearly—distinctly :
“Oh ! he has come ! My own darling Gus !
Tell him I want to see him now—this moment
—while I have life—come! oh come quickly
my brother! ” and her then transparent hands
were held out eagerly and expectantly.
How true is the prescience of those on the con
fines of eternity. It was indeed Augustus Fores
ter, who had arrived express from New York.—
He entered, and caught Leila to his heart. Tall,
and manly, he seemed the eldest now, as he held
the frail, dving girl in his arms ; but his strong
frame was shaking with his deep emotion.
At the request of Leila, every one withdrew.
.“ My brother I ha. no time to spare. I leave
to you mv mother’s dying legacy to me, her chil
dren, our sisters. Be father, mother, all to them
dear Gus. I have done, as thou alone knowest oh
Father! my best for them, but in vain ! Yes,
dearest brother, I sold every hope of happiness
to obtain for them a home, a protector ; hut it was
of no avail. Never have l complained to mortal
1
what I have suffered, and ’tis useless now. May
it he some atonement with my God for breaking
his sacred commands when I stood before the min
ister. Here brother, give this to Algernon Percy
—this letter. Tell him I received it a month af
ter my marriage, and that I give it to him on my
death bed. Tell him to think it a missive from
the dead, to beg him to prepare for death and
meet me in a happier, brighter world. Dearest
brother say nothing to those who have made me
suffer, but make my last moments easy by show
ing that you have your young sisters welfare most
at heart. And now I will tell you to bid farewell
to Percy for me. Call the others in, and then fold
your arms still around me my brother, I dread not
death, I welcome it now.”
He did so; and Leila, folded in his tender
arms with her young, sad relatives around her,
slept her last sleep. Having died in the hope of
a blissful immortality, her friends sorrowed not as
those without hope, hut after the mortal struggle
was ended, seemed glad she had escaped her state
of bondage and misery.
But her faithful nurse still clung to her mis
tress’s corpse, and with reproaches which were
unchecked, upbraided Mr. Lustrington, for allow
ing Stella, his cousin, to have killed his wife.—
There, over that cold body, telling him of delib-j
rate cruelty both of word and deed, to the patient!
sufferer now lying so cold, so still before him, and
which made him shed tears of agony and self
reproach, and grading him on to such a frenzy of
hate that he rushed from the still chamber of
death, he turned the mischief maker from his
door with imprecation and hitter revilings.
A tall, sad looking young officer was seen once
or twice at the tomb of Mrs. Lustrington. It was
Algernon Perc}'. After some years, Gus, who
had married, received the news of his friend’s
death, which took place off the coast of Africa.
Mrs. Alton still continues living, the Forester’s arej
with her. They are both, Anna and Mary, cn-
gaged, so that Fanny will have a home alternately
I with them, as they are both willing and able t<>
afford, when God shall see fit to call her almost
maternal friend, Mrs. Alton, from her sphere of
usefulness. And thus ends my story of Leila
Forester.
llcquiescat en pace.
Colonel 1 s Island, Oct., 1849.
A Highland Echo. —ln the course of last sum
mer, some strangers of distinction were induced
to visit a wild and unfrequented retreat in a dis
tant part of the Highlands, chiefly from a report,
they had heard of an echo, remarkable for the
clear and distinct nature of its reverberation. On
reaching the spot from whence the trial of its
powers is usually made, their guide put his hand
to the side of his mouth, and bawled out with the
lungs of a Stenton, a salutation in Gaelic, which
was repeated a precision that seemed beyond the
expectations of the party. One of the gentle
men, by way of trying the strength of his voice,
his hand to the side of his mouth, in the same
manner as the guide, and called out* —
“ How far are we from home V 1
These words, much to the surprise of the con-
ductor, were also repeated, when poor Donald,
with a simplicity that brought a smile over the
features of all present, observed—
-44 You may think it strange, gentlemen, hut this
is the first time lever heard our echo speak Eng
lish.”
“I have no doubt,” said the gentlemen, “hut
it can repeat other languages, if put to the test,”
and instantly bawled out some French, Spanish
and Italian.
Donald looked more bewildered than ever.
“Well, I must say that’s very queer; my own
father and my own self have known that echo
for more than seventy years, and we never knew
it use no language but the Gaelic language before.”
“Your echo is more learned than you sup
posed,” said the gentleman, laughing, though at
a loss whether to impute Donald’s remarks to
archness or simplicity.
“You may say that; but can yon tell me, sir,”
said the poor fellow, with an expression of earn
estness that appeared highly amusing to those,
present, “as the echo has never been out of the
country, where can she have got all her education?”
A Lucky Find. —About a week ago, the wife of
Thomas Reece, a collier, residing at North Wing
field, was rummaging up some old pit clothes
that had been laid aside for a number of years,
in order to find a patch, and in the course of her
search she met with a pair of old trowsers that
had belonged to her husband’s father (David
Reece, who formerly lived at swanwick, and was
in the employ of W. P. Morewood Esq., for ma
ny years,) when she found the watch-pocket care
fully sewed up, and upon being cut open it con
tained a receipt for <£-55, which had been placed
in Me ssrs. Wright & Co’s Bank at Nottingham,
by David Reece, in the year 18*39, and who died
it) March 1342, without saying a word about it.—
The wife, overjoyed, hastened to inform her hus
band of their good luck, who immediately posted
off to Nottingham with the golden vision before
his eyes, but there, alas! he was doomed to dis
appointment, for the partiesof the bank knew noth
ing of him, and could not pay him on his own
identity. He accordingly returned to Afreton, and
communicated the circumstance to Win. Wilson,
Esq., steward to W. P. Morewood Esq.,;who
kindly undertook the business, and on Saturday
last received the above sum for him with jCH
15s. 2d. interest. —Derby Reporter.
The Roved Faces. —Happy thoughts come steal
ing upon us as we look upon the faces of these
we loved in other days —those we have been s( p
erated from for years, and who return again with
all the changes of time and thought upon their
brews. The joyous feelings that arise upon meet
ing with old familiar faces, cordial shaking of
hands, and the hearty congratulations that fol
low—who does not remember them t But when
those we love and cherish, leave us forever —
when their spirits pass away from earth to hea
ven, who would not give all on earth for a pic
ture- —even a faint resemblance—ever so anima
ted and beautiful! How many bright eyes grow
dim—how many cheeks grow pale —how miny
lovely forms fade away into the tomb, leaving not
a shadow of their loveliness behind.
Rays of the Mcon. —The light of .h t mojn is
300,000 (some say a million) times more feeb’e
than that of the sun. The rays of the moi n col
lected to a focus produce no sensible effect on th:
thermometer. Indeed it is an opinion among
gardeners that the moon’s rays are cold. It has
long been believed that it is inj trious to sleep with
the moon shining on the face. Plu’arch asserts
this: he sa\’s meat will spoil soon t in moonlight
than in the sun.
NUMBER M
