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[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
WINTER HAS COKE.
BY SAMFRL L. HAMMOND.
Gone ! Gone! Gone!
From the hill-sides and plains,
And blooming bowers.
Are spring time’s flowers —
Not one, not one remains!
Gone! Gone I Gone!
The dreams of Life's young morn,
Castles built in air,
Boyhood's hopes so fair,
Have vanished, one by one !
Alii AH! All!
Os the Summer’s green leaves,
That like banners bright,
Once waved in the light,
- All have dropped from the trees!
All! All! All!
High thoughts that burned of yore,
The bright aims of youth,
And trust in man’s truth,
Gone, to return no more !
Cold! Cold 1 Cold!
Winter is dark and drear;
Summer's leaves have fled :
And life'sjoys have sped—
The heart is cold and sere!
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
SATURDAY NIGHT.
BT MBS. CAROLINE IIKNTZ BRANCH,
“There! the door bell is ringing—who'can
be calling here on Saturday night? If it is
Charlie Grey, who did so once liefore, I do wish
he could learn when he should stay at home,
and when not to stay at home.”
Aliene Farmer was in her chamber, arranging
some ornaments for wearing the next day, and
her dress was not so neat as usual, but it was
Saturday night, and she did not think any one
wkom%he cared to see would be insane enough
to venture out. Her sister Ellen was the only
one in the room beside herself, and she did not
think it necessary to be select in her language.
“Why, sister,” returned a clear pleasant
voice, “ I thought you were always glad to see
Charlie.”
“ Pshaw 1 You are very dull. I like him
well enough in his place, but it does not suit me
to see him to-night, if ho should so choose. ’
“ Why not? ” again asked the pleasant voice.
“Because it is Saturday night, when any
Christian naturally dislikes to receive company.
You know my reasons very well, and I don’t
Bee the use of staring at me so. You can have
the pleasure of entertaining him yourself)”—
and Aliene’s red lips began to curl in a very un
attractive way.
“ He will have reason to be offended, if you
treat him so unceremoniously," Ellen said,
whilst a shadow came over her serene face.—
She wondered that Aliene would speak of a
Christian's dislike for interruption on Saturday
night, yet she pursued the principal subject of
discussion. “Besides, sister, you know very
well, it is you whom he visits. My acquaint
ance with him is very slight,—or, rather," she
continued, after a little embarrassment, “h#
has scarcely renewed our childhood’s acquaint
ance, since my return from school.”
“It is full time he should do so,” Aliene
retorted.
Ellen did not understand the covert meaning
of Aliene’s words, and as she saw by the flash
of her eyes that she was losing self-command,
she concluded to say no more. The bell here
rang again.
“ There 1 I hear his step— his voice! ” ex
claimed Aliene. “ You must see him, Ellen.”
“Sister, you will have to excuse me, to-night,
for I will be engaged,” and now the cheerful
voice had grown serious.
“And in what, pray?” Aliene asked, impa
tiently.
Ellen did not reply immediately, out when she
did, there were tears in her eyes.
“To-morrow is the Sabbath, and we have
communion. I thought you heard mother men
tion it at tea.”
“I see nothing in that to prevent your pass
ing an hour in entertaining Charlie Grey.—
Don’t, for mercy’s sake, bo sanctimonious; I
despise that.”
Aliene spoke thus on her way to the looking
glass, where she began to smooth her shining
black hair with angry rapidity. Her eyes were
large and lustrous, but they were not beautiful
at that moment. She must have seen the re
flection of their unchristian glow. Her cheek
was fair and blooming, but a very heated, un
becoming glow dyed it then. Ellen had turned
away and was looking out of the window, to
hide her tears.
An ebony-colored face appeared in the door
way, and Roxey announced, with a very intelli
gent grimace, that “Mas’ Charlie axed for
Miss Nellie dis time.”
“Did he ask for no ono else?” Aliene (Juiek
ly demauded, and for the first time she remem
bered to lower her voice.
“No ra’m. He tell me, for pertickler, dat
he call on Miss Ellen Farmer.”
“ Thank heaven! ” was Alienas exclamation,
as she took a seat nervously, an expression
marring the classic beauty of her face, and be
lying the relief her words expressed. Ellen’s
glance involuntarily looked the reproach she
did not express; for the words which Aliene
uttered thoughtlessly were irreverent, and Ellen
was pained to hear them. She, however, only
asked Roxey, in real surprise,
“Are you sure you did not mistake the
names ? ”
“ Shore, Miss Nellie. He waitin’, mighty on
patient like.”
“ Tell him I will be down.”
Roxey disappeared, and Ellen was preparing
to follow her, when Aliene spoke derisively,
“There must be some uncommon magic in
this special message, if it melts your pious
scruples so readily! ”
Ellen’s white cheek glowed, but she only
said,
u Do be more careful how you speak; he
might hear you.”
She went below, and Aliene sat thinking of
her words. The windows were all open, the
air damp and still, and the noisy hum of busy
day was over. She was not in the habit of
lowering her voice, for they lived aloof from
close neighbors.
“Oh! if he has heard!” cried she to her
self, with a real heart-pang; for Aliene liked
Charlie, even more than she had admitted to
herself.
Roxey’s face again shone beside her so sud
denly that slie sprang up in alarm.
“De lawsy, Miss Leen! I nebber meant to
skeer you,” cried Roxey, giggling, and in a
loud whisper—“ I jest cum to tell you ’bout
mindin’ how you talk up here. Mas' Charlie
heerd you quarr’lin long o’ Miss Nellie, and
talkin’ 'bout him, and he looked rite comflusti
cated when I ax’d him in.”
THE 80TOK8BS EXEEE EXE VXEESXEE.
“ How do you know he heard me ? ”
“ ’Kase / did lieer you, too, Miss Leen, and
I w r as furrer off dan he. You ax Miss Nellie
if he war'nt comflusticated ’bout sumthin’! ”
“Go away! ” cried Aliene, this time sup
pressing her angry tones; and Roxey went out
as suddenly as she had come in, and she shook
her head and made another intelligent grimace,
when the door was shut violently behind her
retreating figure.
Aliene sat alone, no longer with nimble fin
gers arranging the morrow’s dress, but with a
lowering brow —angry, waiting, listening, and
vainly regretting—whilst Charlie was enjoying
the first hour of pleasant intercourse with her
sister Ellen, whom in her retiring sphere, he
had not really known. He did not remain late,
and Ellen had not long to transgress on the
hours allotted to sleep, in preparing her heart
for participating in the morrow’s holy commu
nion. With a peaceful heart she sank to rest,
whilst Aliene, in proud silence, tossed restlessly
to and fro, as if she might have cried out her
thoughts thus —
“I wish mine eyes
Would with themselves shut up my thoughts.”
CHAPTER 11.
Charlie Grey had overheard the conversation
between the sisters, and it was in a rather dis
turbed frame of mind that he walked away from
the house. He had called for Ellen, through an
impulse, prompted by pride, but her words in
reference to the communion on the morrow, had
excited in his mind a deep and curious interest,
and in spite of some feelings of mortification, lie
enjoyed the society of Ellen as he little expected.
“ What was it that would engage her in view
of the coming sacrament?” He asked himself
this question on his homeward walk. He be
lieved himself to be as well acquainted with the
belief and practice of Christians as most of the
non-regenerate, but lie now felt that his ideas
were very vague. As he pondered seriously, a
feeling of humility came over him, a sense of
unsatisfied want and longing, when he reflected
that Ellen Farmer, a young girl, had far prece
ded him in climbing the scale of being. Charles
and Lewis Grey were the remnant of a once
large and prosperous family—the rest lay in the
village churchyard, and the old homestead which
had rung with their merry infant voices, and
which was hallowed by the memory of a beloved
mother, was still the homo of the two brothers.
They were bound by more than common ties in
a brotherly love, as strong as life. Lewis was
a year younger, and was an object of peculiar
solicitude to Charlie, on ‘account of his being
hump-backed and feeble in constitution.
Charlie was blessed with health, strength, fine
manly proportions, and with uncommon gifts of
mind and heart, and had just returned from one
of the first institutions of learning in the country,
crowned with honors. On the other hand, Lewis
was unfortunate in form, feeble, and shut out
from the enlivening socialities of life, had been
educated in seclusion, and yet, shut out as he was
from the brightest hopes of youth, of the two,
he was the happier. There were few who knew
of the rare excellence of the mind of Lewis, but
he was known and loved as a meek, cheerful,
and active Christian, and it was this piety which,
like a talisman, preserved his soul from the as
saults and storms which often jarred the excita
ble nature of Charlie. The quiet, yet shining
example which Lewis set before him, was not
lost upon Charlie, but as yet he wandered in
darkness. He hastened homewards, lingering
on the image of Ellen Farmer’s spiritual face,
until it grew sacred in his eyes, and as if it was
sullying its fairness to indulge angry feelings,
he suppressed his indignation at the revelation
he had overheard. But when he burst into the
room where Lewis was quietly seated, he was
heated with his rapid walk, and there was an unu
sual flash in the clear glance with which he al
ways looked upon Lewis. As was his custom,
he unfolded to him the events of the evening.
“I thought Aliene so lovely,” he continued
in conclusion, “ I looked upon her as a being of
a purer atmosphere, formed to be a ministering
apgel to such rough natures as mine. Oh! lam
sick of human trust and faith. Where can it
find anchor?” Lewis might have given an oft
told reply, but this was not the time, and with
his hand, cool and soft as woman's, laid on his
brother’s, so hot and throbbing with impetuous
life, he asked,
“ Did the gentle replies of the sister teach
you nothing? Have you not conjectured upon
what foundation her faith is anchored ? ” Charlie
listened and became lost in thought. And then
when he had gone to rest, and slumber was
stealing upon him, he found himself repeating:
“ I shall go to-morrow, watch her, study her
face, and perhaps ” but sleep confused aud
scattered the half formed ideas.
CHAPTER 111.
The Sabbath bells were chiming musically, as
a handsome carriage waited at the gate of Mrs.
Farmer’s residence. Aliene and Ellen came out
in their church-going attire, and Aliene adjusted
her voluminous skirts so as to make room for
Ellen by her on tho seat she had taken; but
Ellen was turning away.
“ Why do you wait, Nellie ? Mother is not
well enough to come out. ”
“ Yes, and I prefer to walk,” she answered,
with a cheerful smile.
“Strange taste, if I may judge by looking at
these dirty streets,” Aliene said in a sneering
tone, but she changed her tone, and smiled Bril
liantly a moment afterwards. There were two
dashing looking young men coming past them,
in a handsome conveyance, and they heard
Aliene say to Ellen, in her different mood: “Thou
art a model, my little puritan.”
Aliene had seen them, though she seemed very
prettily surprised, when they escorted her and
paused to have a word witli the most beautiful
girl in tho place. Ellen walked on. and was
soon out of sight wending h£r way in an oppo
site direction to which her sister was going, for
Ellen was a Methodist. Aliene, who had been
partially adopted by a wealthy Aunt, had been
in her northern city home during the four years
of her attendance at school. This aunt was
an Episcopalian, and Aliene, never strong in her
predilection for the mother Church, had returned
to her Georgian home, completely wedded to her
aunt’s habits and inclinations. Mrs. Farmer was
in miserable health, and as she had never been
firm in her discipline of her children, she made
no attempt to restrain Aliene, who was more
like a visitor than a member of the family, during
her stay amongst them. So she swept away,
seated on soft cushions, scarcely knowing, and
caring less, where the neat white Methodist
house of worship had been rebuilt in her ab
sence. She remembered the ungraceful outlines
of the one to which even in childhood she had,
with aristocratic instincts , taken an aversion;
thinking its homely, unpainted walls and stiff
benches no fit accommodations for gentlewomen.
She thought so still, having taken no pains to
see the improved condition of the Church, and
she reflected upon Ellen’s course with great
chagrin. It was not to a building equal in
splendor to Trinity Church of New York, that
she approached, but it was to one in which she
did not disdain to kneel.
Charlie Grey did not, as usual, meet her at the
carriage door, and carry her prayer book for
her as far as her seat. She missed his hand
some, admiring face, and remembered with a
pang of fresh mortification, the incidents of the
preceding evening. But there was no humility
in her appearance as she swept up the softly
carpeted aisle, and arranged her dress upon
the cushioned seat. Aliene had the air of an
Empress, and the beauty of a Juno, but her heart
was keeping chime to another story, on this
Sabbath morning, and she was unconscious that
admiring eyes were upon her.
The half clouded sunlight streamed in through
the blinds across the pew where she sat, and
also across t|e one into which she gazed, and
there was something in the moment and in the
sight which tarried her thoughts back to child
hood. She heard the swallows twittering in the
eaves above die window; she heard them even
above the notes of the swelling organ, and she
remembered, almost forgetting the interval, how
long ago she had sat just where she was, close
to her stately aunt, and how she had stolen
bashful glances into the same pew which now
enchained her gaze; but then, there was a gold
en haired boy, with eyes of startling meaning,
who returned the coy glances, with fervent boy
ish admiration. There was also, nearly always,
another boy, smaller, and with delicate bent fig
ure, beside the older handsomer brother, and
he, too, had often watched her, and blushed
when he met her gaie. The pew was empty
this morning, and as if the sight caused her to
feel that there was a void in her soul, an empti
ness in her life, Al.ene, still forgetting all but
her sorrowful namings, wept.
Then, as she again remembered the night just
passed, the halcyon visions of her childhood van
ished, and, with a nervous start, she brushed
away the truant tear*, and looked up. She felt
her face crimson, when an old man witli grey
beard, and uncertain, sharp voice, cried out, look
ing up at her, strangely, during the repeatal of
the solemn Litany:
“ From all blindness of heart —from pride, (here
his fierce grey eyes seemed to mi?condemnato
ry fires) from vain 'lory and hypocrisy: from
envy, hatred, and milice, and all uucharitable
ness; Good Lord delver us.”
Aliene felt someth ng new and strange with
in her, struggling for life; there was an overpow
ering feeling, which made her crush back a
self-reproach and look up defiantly at the old
man; but the fierce gray eyes, with the over
hanging eyebrows, were turned away from her.
She, too, then joined in with the congregation,
in repealing the Litauy, “wlijlst she watched in
vain for the tilling of the empty pew.
Charlie, true to the last night’s resolve, turik'd
his steps towards another house of worship, to
which Lewis was a regular attendant. The
scene, in which Aliene had just borne a part,
was familiar to Charlie, and he felt vividly the
contrast, as from his retired seat he looked over
the congregation of Methodists. His restless
gaze, “ like the fool’s eyes,” wandered here and
there, looking vainly beneath showers of pink,
blue, and parti-colored ribbons, for the face which
haunted him; now thinking he had found it,
when lie saw the gleam of white robes, —but he
was cheeked by a hand upon his. Lewis said
nothing, but Charlie read in his glance that he
was thinking of the proverb of Solomon, which
was alluded to above, and Charlie heeded the
gentle reminder, by fixing his attention upon
the words of the minister.
When the solemn Eucharist was administered,
Charlie remained, looking on, as he had never
before, with the inward craving of his soul op-'
pressing him with its unsatisfied clammoring.
His mind took in, with a kind of mystic awe,
the light reflected from one face. He had not
seen it, until, among those approaching the
altar, with the ornaments of faith and humility
alone, he singled out the figure of Ellen Farmer.
He singled it out, as he would have done the
first opening violet for which he had long search
ed. By no bright flower, neither by a brilliant
eye, a beautiful mouth or a graceful form, would
he have pointed her out to another; but by a
brow, crowned with purity and holiness, a glance
aU heaven-absorbed, and glistening with tho re
membrance of a bleeding Saviour.
He gazed at her as if in a dream, forgetting
the evening converse, and only realizing that he
had heard her say, “To-morrow is communion.”
How ho 4 envied her the serenity and peace,
crowing her brow as with a halo, poor wayfarer
that he was! .
So great was the excitement with which he
followed the whole ceremony, that he had been
unmindful, as had many others, of the thunder
muttering in the distance, and of the heavy
cloud which was arising. The congregation was
quickly scattered, upon dismissal, but among a
few, who remained was Ellen. Charlie saw her
standing by one of the heavy pillars, in front of
the buildng; and he drew near her, attracted by
some irresistible power, yet she seemed conscious
of no presence, but the voice of the mighty
Thunderer. Sharp flashes were followed by
heavy peals, and though the fierce gleam across
the black clouds often forced her to close her
eyes for an instant, she did not move, and her
face wore still its expression of beautiful serenity.
Charlie addressed her almost stinvoluntary—
“Are you holding converse with the spirits?”
She was painfully aroused from her uncon
sciousness. He saw it and felt a regret, that
he had cansed her cheek to glow witli human
emotion. She did not reply, but whilst she was
quickly regaining composure, Charlie said:
“ Forgive my rudo intrusion. I was admiriug
your fearlesness, that was all.”
But Ellen did not think “ that was all," and as
fearless, in her pure heartedness, of human scru
tiny, as she was of the warring elements, she
told him her thoughts. But when she saw the
deep earnestness with which he regarded her,
and how his singularly bright eye gleamed upon
her, under the influence of some strong impulse,
she regretted the confession, and continued, a
little hurriedly—
“l love to watch the thunder cloud, and was
in a peculiar mode for enjoying the sight just
then.”
“ Then it is but a feeling, which I can share,”
he cried, in a half disappointed tone. “I was
regarding you witli almost superstitious reve
rence, feeliDg sure that I read something more
in the expression of your face, than my world
dimmed sense can fathom. I confess still, that
if I had a concealed crime at my heart, I should
fear your gaze.”
'I lie conversation interested her, and she was
on the point of asking why he would fear her,
when a loud peal of thunder directed her at
tention again towards the clouds. He asked
suddenly how she expected to reach home, and
whether he should not go for the carriage.
“ Aliene will come, or send,” she replied, with
out removing tier gaze from the heavens, so
overcast with angry, rolling clouds, and she
continued softly, as if reflecting aloud —
“ Poor Aliene is so timid in a storm; I feel
anxions about her.”
“ Were you always so fearless?” said another
voice; at the sound both Charlie and Ellen
started.
Lewis had come up quietly, as he had ling
ered, purposely, to avoid notice, and lie had been
forgotten for the time. Ellen had been a pupil
«f his, during a season in which he taught the
village school, some years previous. He was
much beloved as an instructor, and Ellen had
been one of his best friends, though she was too
modest to give such evidence to him. Since her
return from a distant school, she had scarcely
seen him, and deeply compassionating the sensi
tiveness which made him shrink from society,
she rejoiced at an opportunity which allowed
her to express pleasure at meeting him.
The color deepened to crimson, in his pale
cheek, as she expressed her sincere warmth of
feeling, and a more earthly gleam than usually
slione in his large thoughtful eyes, now anima
ted them. Charlie regarded him with solicitous
interest, and a suspicion flashed through his
mind; one which he endeavored to banish, but
like a thorn in the flesh it disturbed his mind.
Here another crash silenced conversation and
directed all thoughts to the storm.
Ellen’s quick ear discovered amidst the roar
a sound, which blanched her cheek. It was the
shriek of a female voice—then there was a
sound of trampling, a confused mingling of rol
ling wheels, thunder and shrieks! An instant
more and a carriage was whirled into view,
drawn by a pair of terror-stricken animals, who
rushed madly from side to side, now pawing the
air, when a flash of lightning glared upon their
sight, and then dashing furiously past. Ellen
saw the face of Aliene, at the carriage window,
terrible in its fright, and she heard her cry out
to Charlie, in desparing agony, for help. She
saw him borne along, as if upon the wings of the
wind, after the whirling carriage, and then like
meteors the horses dashed around the corner to
which Charlie was hurrying. She saw him
once, as in a blaze of light, when heaven’s glo
ries flashed upon him, then, in the blackness that
followed, carriage and pursuer both disappeared.
Ellen, for one moment, forgetting all presence,
gave way to the agony of the time, and, in mo
mentary loss of all self-possession, was rushing
out into the storm alone. Lewis held her back,
and she turned, to remember his existence. He
was firm and strong, but she saw how keenly he
too was suffering, and she grew stronger, too,
though she plead wildly.
“Let us go, Mr. Lewis; after them, after
them! I cannot stay. For his sake, you will
come.”
He no longer resisted, and half supporting her,
they went out into the pelting rain and sleet,
and groped their way, half blinded by the beat
ing rain, onwards in silence. She was dwelling
in weak terror upon a frightful vision of mangled
bodies beneath the infuriated animals; and she
could only shudder and struggle onwards whilst
he who bore her near him, as he would perhaps
uever again, felt a thrill at the nearness, which
was in strange contrast to every emotion of his
nature, and very strange at that moment.
They struggled onward, and soon, through
the mist, they saw a heap of the mangled car
riage, from which the horses had broken loose.
Ellen clung closer to Lewis, while a cold shiver
shot through her frame. “Bear up,” she heard
him cry, “bear up, my sister;” but she covered
her face with her hands, and could only moan
aloud.
“Look,” cried Lewis, forcing her hands from
her eyes, as he pointed towards two figures, not
far off. Ellen gave a scream of joy, for she re
cognised Charlie, who was aiding Aliene to ex
tricate herself from the ruins. They were saved,
and a fervent “thank God," echoed in each
heart.
* Aliene stood in her saturated, rain-soiled dress,
with her hair wildly disordered, her beautiful
bon et a mangled mass, and she was pouring
forth her gratitude to her deliverer, in the elo
quence of sobs, and half uttered words ; whilst
her eyes were telling him far more than her
words. Lewis hung upon his brother’s neck for
a moment in unconquerable emotion, but in en
deavoring to gain command of himself, he turned
away without meeting his brother’s glance. He
felt a hand seize his.
“ Mr. Lewis,” exclaimed Ellen, and her
cheek was again blanched, “look to your broth
er ! Oh I merciful powers, he is dying!”
She alone had seen the sickening pallor, the
deadly hue of Charlie’s lips, and how even amidst
Aliene’s outpouring of feeling, he had gasped
for breath, and closed his eyes as if in agony—
though no outcry escaped his lips. Lewis gain
ed his side in an instant, and bore him up, just
as a stream of blood flowed from between his
blue lips, but he staggered beneath his burden,
as Charlie leaned heavily upon him, and both
sank upon the ground. Ellen saw that a crowd
of persons had gathered around them, she heard
the irrepressible groans of the wretched brother,
and the wild shrieks of Aliene, who, in abandon
ed terror, knelt beside Charlie, and unconscious
ly was crying out in a tone that was telling all
her heart—yet seeing, and hearing all, and still
bearing up, Ellen alone was strong. She tried
with her small hand to lift the head of Charlie,
so as to shelter his face from the pitiless ele
ments, and others were helping her, she knew
not whom, but she saw his eyes unclose. He
was listening to Aliene’s piteous cries, and it
was a strange sight to witness the expression
which came across his death-like face, and
lighted up his glazing eyes for a moment. His
dim glance then seemed to search for some one,
and it was not hers, for she was watching in
intentness, and no one knew of the agony at
her heart. What spell was upon her voice, and
why was she, of the four sufferers, the only one
calm enough, strong enough to think, to assist,
and to control her emotions?
But the need for euergy and strength passed,
and for a time Ellen was weak —a time which
in passing was like a dream. Charlie was con
veyed to the nearest house, where a physician
accompanied him, and friends were gathered
around him.
Ellen and Aliene were conveyed home, for
they no longer had a place beside Charlie. Some
one had said, “He had only burst a blood ves
sel and may recover." This had been repeated
again and again to Aliene, who did nothing but
moan hysterically and wring her hands. Poor
Mrs. Farmer was half distracted with anxiety,
and met them with such intense relief, that her
feeble frame was prostrated. Here, again, Ellen
was the only one to act and think. Aliene was
in an alarming way. Her hands were rigid, and
shivering agues contracted her whole frame.
Terrified at her own condition, she called inces
santly upon Ellen for relief; and Ellen sat near
her, through the next hours of harrowing dis
tress, speaking words of comfort, thougli her
own heart was aching with its hidden misery.
Then there came a messenger from Charlie. He
had only ruptured a blood vessel, in checking
the strong animals, and he was in a fairway of
recovery.
The physician who attended him, administered
an opiate to Aliene, and when she slept quietly,
Ellen stole into her own chamber and felt its
solitude a very joy. It was in vain for her to
woo slumber, when the most frightful images
haunted her closed eyes, and struck a nameless
chill to her heart, though the scene was all past
and gone, and she had reason to be joyful. No
one dreamed of her sorrow. She laid her head
on the damp window sill and let the cool night
breeze fan her burning cheek, and whilst she
looked out upon the moon, which struggled out
through clouds, she seemed to see in its mirror
ed outline, the reflection of Charlie’s face, as it
was when lit up by that strange expression.
She could not banish it, and with nervous
tears she walked her room back and forth, her
face between her hands, that she might hide, if
possible, even from herself, the secret of her
grief, which her truth-telling face might reveal.
But there was a fount from which Ellen never
returned thirsting, and now she sought it in hu
mility. Like the wanderer weeping for joy,
when the lights of home gleam around him, she
arose from her kneeling, with joy unspeakable
shining through her tears. She slept in the peace
which no opiate can ever bring.
[to be continued.]
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
MBS. HEMANS AND L. E. L. COMPARED.
The one a lark, whose clear, sweet morning hymn,
Fills air with music such as angels sing;
The other, the dark sad bird of night,
Whose thrilling notes tell most of passion’s blight.
The first, though sorrowing much, with reverent wing,
Mounts Upward still, withtever grateful hymn;
The last, when spirit wounded, shrieks her pain,
Seeking from Earth relief—and seeks in vain!
That, a mild zephyr, wafting odors sweet,
And gently fanning lightsomely the cheek;
This, a hot blast, of scorching, stilling breath,
Her withering touch is like the simoon's—death!
Theyirsf, with pure chaste kiss, brings quiet joy,
And Love unmixed with Passion’s base alloy;
The last brings evcr-aching head and heart,
With haunting Fears you cannot make depart
we love to look upon in prayer,
Pure, holy, ardent rapt in reverent fear;
The last torments us with th’ unwelcome thought,
Thate’en the Blest Abodes with pain are fraught!
Mona.
LONGEVITY IN THE PROFESSIONS.
The members of the Royal Statistical Society
of Great Britain, have paid great attention to the
subject of duration of the human life, and
have just concluded a thorough investigation,
which has occupied the last fourteen years. An
eminent English physician has taken all the
facts presented before the Society, since 1845,
and reports to the Fellows that he has drawn
therefrom the following inferences: 1. That the
value of human life was lower in the seventeenth
century, than in the sixteenth, but that it •ex
perienced a marked recovery ixf the eighteenth,
and that this remarkable feature was incinden
tal to each class of the community, with the ex
ception of sovereigns, medical men, artists,
(who show a progressive improvement,) and
lawyers (who show a progressive deterioration.)
2. That the duration of life of married men is
greater than that of unmarried men—the differ
ence being 5f years in favor of the former. 3.
That as regards the comparative duration of life
of the two sexes, females have the advantage
over males, and a better expectation of life at
every age from 25 to 75.
One of the most interesting and valuable of
the papers presented before the society, was
read by Dr. Guy, “On the duration of Life as
affected by the Pursuits of Literature, Science,
and Art.” Most writers on the subject have
always treated of distinct and well defined clas
ses of society, such as laborers, the three learned
professions, sovereigns, &c.; but Dr. Guy con
sidered the less defined class of society, known
as artists, literary and scientific men. He treated
hiS theme under four divisions, viz: 1. The du
ration of life of literary men; 2. The duration
of life of scientific meD ; 3. The duration of the
professors of the fine arts; and, 4. A compa
rison of these three classes.
In regard to the first of these divisions—the
duration of life among literary men—the author
had been able to collect, from “ Chalmer’s Bio
graphical Dictionary.” and the “Annual Regis
ter,” 942 ages at death of men more or less de
voted to literary pursuits. Dr. Guy observed at
the outset that this class was not so sharply de
fined as other classes of society. British wri
ters, both in prose and verse, were of every
rank and profession. With some it was only
an occasional and exceptional pursuit; but with
others it was, as much a profession as divinity,
law, or physics. His paper referred to all those
who made literature one of their pursuits, and
duration of whose life was consequently affect
ed in various degress by the habits of composi
tion. These were subdivided into antiquaries,
historians, poets, miscellaneous writers, and wri
ters professionally engaged as schoolmasters.—
Os these ages at death the lowest were those of
two poets, who died at the age of 21; the high
est that of T. O'Sullivan, a celebrated Irish bard
and author, who died at the recorded age of
115.
According to the tables exhibited by Dr. Guy,
poets appear, on an average, to live the shortest
lives, and next to them come schoolmasters.—
This may be explained, as regurds poets, by the
circumstance of their commencing their dis
tinctive pursuit earlier than any other class of
literary men; and, as regards schoolmasters, by
the immense amount of confinement in unhealthy
rooms which they are compelltd to undergo.
That poets had been a short-lived race appeared
evident from some statistics of the ages at death
of Roman poets, produced by Dr. Guy. Thus,
Tibullus died at 24, Persius at 30, Lucilius and
Catulls at 46, Virgil at 51, Horace at 57, Ovid
at 59, and Martial at 75—the eight names giv
ing the low average of years. Against
these may be placed Kirke White, who died at
21, Collins at 36, Parnell and Robert Burns at
37, Goldsmith at 46, Thompson at 48, Cowley
at 49, Shakespeare at 52, and Pope at 66
yielding an average of 43 years. The average
duration of life of British poets who attained the
age of 21 was 58.10 years; while the correspon
ding duration of life for the antiquaries—the
highest in the list—was 67.66 years.
Historians ranked next to antiquarians as a
long-lived class. The average duration of life of
eiglit Roman writers who treated of history and
kindred subjects, was 69.63, or more than twen
ty years in excess of that of the Roman poets. —
The results of the investigations concerning Bri
tish historians agree with those in a majority of
similar tables, in showing that there was a less
favorable duration of life in persons born in the
seventeenth century than those born in the six
teenth, with a recovery and improvement in
persons born during the eighteenth. As regards
the comparative duration of life among the mar
ried and single members of the literary profes
sion, the advantage is in favor of the married
men.
Turning to scientific men, whom Dr. Guy Bub
divided into (1) mathematicians and astrono
mers, (2) chemists and natural philosophers, and
(3) naturalists, he foudU no great difference in
the average duration of life; but it was a cu
rious fact that these classes showed no falling
off in the length of life in the seventeenth cen
tury corresponding to that which had been no
ticed in previous classes, but gave a progressive
improvement; the age at death has risen from
61.66 in the sixteenth century to 65.27 in the