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[For the Southern Field end Fireside.] «
THE STAR AND THE CLOUD.
BV J. H. HEWITT.
“Stand out of my light!” said a bright little star
To a cloud that was bound on its way;
4 I cannot be seen by earth’s people afar,
If thus you obscure my pure ray.”
‘Ah, ha!" cried the cloud, “there are thousands Uk* yen
Who imagine t£ey stand all alone;
I like to swell out on this ocean of blue,
And notbe confined to a zone."
“But yon cast* shadow," halt vex’d the star said,
“And darken the beautlfal earth ;
While gladness accompanies the rays that I shed.
And the sparkling waves dance in thefr mirth.
“VUn thing!” spake the cloud with a thundering voice
“You are only a twinkling spark;
My lefts make the fields and flowers rejoice,
While my folds put old 80l In the dark.”
“fine flash of my Are wist Illumine the sea,
My thunders the firm mountains shake;
And thousand like you are now winking at me,
And peeping at river and lake.”
This clarion speech made the little star pal^,
Aad, trembling, she shrunk. Into space;
While the cloud melted fast on the wings of the gale.
And the blue sky was left in its place.
The moral is this : some folks make a swell,
And push real merit aside ;
Inflated with vapor, they toll their own knell,
And burst from ano’ercharge of pride.
THE STORY TELLER.
[For the Southern Field and Fireside.]
BELLMOKT.
BY MRS. SCR E. HURT,
[concluded.]
CHAPTER VII. '
‘ That is just like you, Minnie, you never
would let me enjoy a little piece of romance
without dispelling the illusion with one of your
matter of fact speeches ; but ‘ 'twas ever thus
from childhood’s hour, Ac.,’ and Imogene heaved
a deep sigh, followed by a merry little laugh,
not indicative of a great deal of suffering.’
The curtain at last arose, and soon the rich
harmony of sweet sounds charmed away every
other thought from the crowd of spell-bound
listeners,and but few words were exchanged by
the cousins, until reaching their room in a
fashionoble hotel at a late hour.
‘lf that is a fair speciman of the operas in
London I will not be so anxious for uncle
Henry to complete bis business here, and
lot us enjoy the purer air of heather-covered
bills.’
‘ The performance of Signor Bernardie was
perfectly divine. I think when I return home
I will lock up my piano and throw away the
key. I would give everything I possess for
his exquisite touch and the power so draw
forth such soul enchanting strains. But what
is the matter, cousin Minnie ? you look as much
distressed as if you. had just heard of the de
mise of your last frie nd.’
‘ I have.lost my ne cklace,’ was the abstracted
reply.
•Is that all,’ and, Imogene laughed heartily,
‘ I thought you must have been contemplating
suicide, or something equally horrible, instead
of the loss of a little chain, almost as delicate
and fragile as a spider’s web. "Now if it had
been your new pearl necklace there might"have
been some cause for lamentation.’
‘I prized that more highly than I do the
pearl one. I have had it ever since I was a
little child, and the associations are peculiarly
endearing. It was the.parting gift of Jennie.
Ralston eight years ago. I have been think-
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AUGUSTA, GA, SATURDAY, 3AEUARY 31,1863.
ing 6f Jennie, and my thoughts wandering
back aU the evening. It- seemed as if the
music called up scenes of my childhood when
Jennie and I were inseparable friends. How
much I ! would like lo see her again—we used
to talk so often of what we intended doing
when we*grew up to be women. I can never
think of her- as anything but a little child,
though now ahe is eighteen if still living. She
is just two months younger than myself.’
*ln any opinion you had better never meet,
unless you want your faith in iemale constancy
and endearing friendship to receive a shock. 1
have known hundreds of girls to profess and
vow everlasting love and Irieudship, and in leas
than a year pass each other without a bow of
recognition, unless it was convenient and profi
table to keep up the intimacy.’
* Jennie will never answer to that description
I am very sure,’ replied Minnie. ‘At all events,
I regret *my los» very much, and would give
ten times its value willingly lor its recovery.
, * You can’t spare this morning to us lather,’
queried Imogene of her father when they had
huiahed breakfast on the succeeding day. ,
‘ Neither this morning or the next either,
answered Mr. Hazleton. When pleasure seek
ing young ladies accompany a business man on
a business tour Urey must expect to put up with
its inconveniences. However, I hope in a feu
Uajato be able Vo devote more time to your
wishes; in the meantime you will have to en
joy yourselves in the most agreeable manner
you can devise. I thiuk you brought books
enough to keep you reading for months instead
of days, and you must determine definitely
your tour, so teat no time of our limited stay
may be lost. I will send you up the morning
papers.’ • ' . ,
•Cousin Minnie I know will receive them
gratefully, and pore over their advertising col
umns itrhopes that some honest wight has be
come the possessor of a favorite necklace, which
she lost last night, and must have dreamed of
from her dejected looks this morning.
loiogene’s remarks were lost on her father,
whose financiering brain was busy with imagi
nary speculations, and drawing on his gloves
he started lor the large shipping establishment
of Messrs. Fields and (dourly.
In their counting room sat Mr. Hazleton all
the morning intently engaged in business trau
sactious, for he was a merenant of great wealth
and large business.
‘ Ah, ba! I have caught you at last,’ said Mr.
(dourly, as he playfully caught up a bright
trinket, from the desk of his clerk, whose pen
was moving with the rapidity and exactness of
perpetual motion.
‘You may take my word for it,’ and Mr
(dourly turned to Mr. Hazleton—when you find
one of these sober visaged young men, who
profess never to throw a tender glance at the
fair sex, that there is more hid under the
current than iB seen above.' But 1 will not
expose your love souvenir,' said he, replacing
it, and reaching for a book, which was the ob
ject of his search.
i Upon my word, replied Mr. Montague,
smiling, I had forgotten ft. In going to my
room last night something attracted my atten
tion, glistening in the ligut of the street lamp,
and on picking it up, 1 found it to be a child’s
necklace. I put it in my pocket, intending this
morning to advertise it, but entirely forgot the
circumstance until I carelessly drew it out with
my memorandum book. I will look if there is
any mark on it,’ and examining very earnestly,
discovered the name of ‘Minnie’ engraved on
tbo locket. • ,
i it Btrikea me,’ said Mr. Hazleton musingly,
‘that I heard my daughter Bay something
about her cousin having, lost a necklace last
night. I have no idea though-of what descrip
tion, bat as her name is Minnie it may be the
missing .article.’ '
»-phis isl evidently the property of some child,
said he,’ as he returned it to Mr. Montague,
who had given it to Mr. Hazleton m hopes of
finding an owner— though I will mention it to
my niece—and here.4he matter dropped. The
necklace was returnsd to the desk and soon
forgotten by the busy occupants of the count
ing room.
.‘Well, father, we have passed a week in
London, and Minnie and I are beginning to get
q#nte restless to proceed on our journey. As
vro will be compelled to stop here before our
return home, we are afraid that he may be de
prived of some of our proposed plana.’
* Have your trunks in readiness, for a start
in the morning, was the welcome reply. That
is, if I receive some papers that I wished to
qaail before leaving heee. Mr. Montague told
*ie that he would finish them, and bring them
ere to-night, but it is now nine o’clock, and he
has ■ not come yet, so don’t lot your expecta
tions rise too high, or they may receive a disap
pointment.’ Scarce had he finished speaking
when Mr. Montague was ushered by a waiter
into their private parlor. •
Mr. Hazleton presented him to his daughter
and niece, with whom a lew remarks were ex
changed before the gentlemen drew their chairs
to a table under the lamp, and were soon in
dustriously arranging the papers which Mr.
Montague had brought. When about leaving,
he reterred to the necklace, and asked if Mr.
Hazleton bad found any clue to the owner.
4 1 have never thought of it since the day we
were looking at ik’ -Here Minnie,’ he called
his niece, who, with Imogene, was sitting by
open wnfdow booking out on the moving
panorama beneath them.
4 1 thought I heard you or Imogens speak of
having lost something. Is this it ? and he held
up the necklace which Mr. • Montague had
brought.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ and Minnie sprang joyfully to
seize tne much prized object, and pressed it to
her lips, but remembering that she was in the
presence ot a stranger, the rose deepened on
ner cheok, and turning to her uncle she enquir
ed where it had been found.
‘Mr. Montague picked it up the same even
ing you lost it when returning from the opera. ’
* Mr. Montague certainly merits my most
heartfelt thanks, said she turning to him. It
was the parting gift of a cherished playmate,
and for that reason I pri~e it far above its real
value.’
• Who is he, father?’ asked Imogene as soon
as llidir visitor was out of heariug distance.
4 Why, daughter, did I not introduce him to
you V 1 told you very distinctly, as I thought,
tout he was Mr. Montague.’
4 Oh, I know that, but who is Mr. Montaguq.?’
‘Uncle Henry, do enlighten Imogene said
Minnio. She was deeply smitten with him
the first night that we attonded the opera—felt
assured the moment she looked at him that he
was either a painter or poet of the most ex
quisite sensibilities, living in some deserted
attic, with only a dry crust to keep body and
soul together.’
Mr. Hezleton laughed heartily at Minnie’s
picture, telling her that 4 ho wus sorry to spoil
the romance by informing them tiiat ho was the
principle oook keeper in the establishment of
Messrs. Helds and Hourly, besides boarding at
one ot the best hotels, and doubtless enjoying
the goodthiDgs of this life like the rest of his
fellow-mortals. ’
4 That is too bad, and Imogene’s lips assumed
a decidelly pouting attitude. I really thought
that there was something romantic about
him.’ . , ,
4 The 'ery beat kind of romance, replied Mr.
Hazletei. I never saw a more business young
man, besides his employees tell me that he is a
hard sttdept, devoting every leisure momeht to
books, perhaps fitting himself for some other
profession than his present, or for aught I know
maybe-consuming the; midnight oil, inditing
love-silk ditties for sentimental young ladies,
and be glanced meaningly at Imogene.’
Faiher I didn’t say that I was a sentimental
young lady.'
4 Turn 1 suppose I must correct myself, and
say 10' very sensible young laches, who hold
the honest profession of the* father in con
tempt ’ - • •
‘.Mow father you know that I did not intend
to coavey any such idea, returned Imogene
• tw ■
'./ I *
” **l^
AT THRfci DOLLARS'Pw ANNUM.
earnestly. I only meant that book-keeping
was not —well—was less spiritual than the life
of a painter or poet.’
‘I understand perfectly, and Mr. Hazle
ton nodded his bead gravely. Miss Imogene
Hazleton thinks there is less romance in pour
ing over ledgers and day-books than in spend
ing it in traveling and discovering ‘ spiritual ’
young gentlemen.’
4 Father I see you are determined to quiz
me, so I will leave you. Come Minnie,we have
a good many preparations to make, and the
morning sun must find us bidding farewell to
walls of brick and mortar. But you arc look
ing as solemn over your recovered treasure as
you did at loosing it. What are you in such a
brown study about ?’
* 4 l was only thinking.’-
‘ Well this is the time for acting, not think
ing, so come en, and the gay Imogene danced
out of the room.’
CHAPTER IX. %
Time is the ol<l justice that examines all offenders.
S/takspeare.
Two years had glided over Elmwood, soften
ing, but not healing the breach in the home
circle, made vacant by the sudden disappear
ance of tbe beloved sou and brother. Mrs.
Raistetr’s naturally delicate constitution never
recovered from the shock, and her friends
feared never would, having become almost a
confirmed invalid, rarely leaving her room. Jen
nie watched with untiring energy her every
movement, fcnd studied every wish with the
most affectionate solicitude, giving up all
pleasure iii which her mother could not partici
pate, and the society of young friends so con
genial to her lively disposition. Her parents
had ceased to urge her to leave them, for the
house appeared dark and sunless to Mr. Rals
ton without his darling little JeDme, and no
hand could arrange her mother’s pillow as hers,
or soothe the agitated nerves of the suffering
invalid, so that Jennie led a life of quiet se
clusion, save when her friends sought her
company at home. Her old schoolmate, Julia
Hinton, was her most frequent visitor, her
brother Alt often accompanying her, and at all
times making calls on bis own responsibility.—
in childhood Jennie had been his pet and
favorite, and iu later years a warm attachment
had Bpruug 'up between them, or at least on
his side, tor it Jennie reciprocated the feeling
she kept it concealed in her maidenly heart
from all observers. Henceforth her life was
devoied to her mother and no other love must
come betweon.
Mr. Ralston had determined to travel for a
year in hopes that change of air and scene
would revive tbo wasting energies of his wife.
His business matters were all arranged and
in a few days they would start for Europe.
• How invigorating the sea breeze will be to
you these warm mornings,doar mother,remarked
Jennie. lam really getting impatient to start.
Even Julia’s wedding is not an inducement to
remain a week longer ; but there she is now,’
she exclaimed as she glanced out of the win
dow ; 4 and I see she has not forgotten the
usual number of liowers for you.’
4 It is very kind in Julia not to forget me,’ re
plied Mrs. Ralston. One might suppose that
her mind would be wholly occupied with her
own affairs. Her frequent visits have whiled
away many an hour that would otherwise have
been weary. I had no idea that she would
ever have become so sedate aud matroaly,
though the sad death of Ada Dalzelle caused a
material change .in her character. I hope Mr,
Willard will' prove himself worthy of her.’
Mrs. Rahttou’s face brightened as Julia came
in'the such a oeanung, radiant look,
and cheeog|igood morniug.
. *‘ Year jEpts are always rendered doubly
agreAbfe your floral offering,’ said Mrs.
your garden and conservatory would, abate, in
view o( the occurrence of another week.’
4 so, indeed 1 replied Julia. Flowers are my
first love, and Mr. Willard must be contented
IVOL. I. —NUMBER 5.