past s ,Trovitto'F; *tied•Vntirg. A Rain Dream. Br WILLIAM C1714 . ..E BRYANT These strifes, these tumults of the noisy world, . Where Fraud, the coward, tracks his prey by stealth, And strer gth the ruffian, glories in his guilt, Oppress the e heart with sadness: Oh, my friend, In what serener mood we look upon The gloomiest aspect of the elements - Among the woods and fields ! Let us awhile; ,'As the slow wind is rolling up the storm, 'ln fancy leave this maze of dusty streets, For ever shaken by the importunate jar Of commerce, and, upon the darkening 'air Look from the shelter of our rural home. Who is not awed that listens to the Rain, Sending his voice before him ? Mighty Rain! The upland steeps are shrouded by thy mists ; The vales e gloomy with thy shade ; the pools , No longer glimmer, and the silvery streams Darken to veins of lead at tby approach, ;Ob, might-37114:in! already thou art here; :And every roof is beaten by thy streams, And as thou. passest, every glassy spring Grows rough, and every leaf in all the woods Is struck and quivers. All the hill-tope slake Their, thirst rom thee ; a . thousand languishing fields,, A thousand fainting gardens are refreshed; A thousand idle rivulets start to speed, And,withlthe graver murmur of the storm I Blend theft• light voices as they hurry on. I • Thou ffirst the circle of the -atmosphere - Alone; there is no living thing abroad, No bird to wing the sir, nor beast to walk The field; the squirrel in the forest seeks His hollow tree ; the marmot of the field Has scampered to his den ; the butterfly Hides under her broad leaf: the insect crowds ; That made the sunshine populous, lie close ' 1 In their,roysterious shelter, whence the sun Will summon them again. The mighty Rain Holds the vast empire,of the sky alone. • I shut my eves, and see, as in a dream, The friendly clouds drop down spring violets ; And summer columbines, and all the flowers ;'That tuft the woodland floor, or overarch The streamlet:- 7 -Spiky grass for g enial June, 1 / '; Brown harvests for Afe • waiting husbandman, And for the woods a deluge of freshleaves- I see these myriad drops that slake the dust, ;.Gather in glorious streams, or rolling blue I•In billows on-the take or on the deep,^- And bearing navies. I behold them rhang,e To threadkof crystal as they sink in 'earth, And leave its stains behind, to Ilse, again ' ' In pleasant nooks of verdure, where the child, ',Thirsty with play, in both his little hands , Shall take the`cool clear water, raising it .To wet his pretty lips. Tomorrow= noon How proudly will the 'water-lily ride The brimming pool. o'erlooking ; like a queen, I.Her circle of broad leaves. In lonely wastes, When next.the sdnshine makes them beautiful, ,Gay troops of bathrflies shall light to drink ' At the replenished hollows of the roci;. I No* slowly falls the call blank night, and still, .All through the sfarless , hours, the mighty Rain Saiitea with perpetual-sound the forest leaves, '• 'And beats the matted-grass, and still the earth I ;D:inks the unstinted bounty of the clonds, • Drinks .for her eottre wells; her woodland brooks, . ; ;Drinks for the springing trout, the toiling bee 'And brooding bird, drinks for her , tender flovi , • ars, Tall oaks, and all the herbage of her bills. A-melancholy sound is in:the air. A deep sigh7in the distance, a shrill wail • ;Around my dwelling. 'Tie the wind of night'; A lonely wanderer between earth and cloud, • in the black shadow - and the chilly mist, ;Along the streaming mountain side, and throw+ 4 The dripping woods, and o'er the plashy fields,' ;',Roaming and wowing still,Ake one who makes '; The journey of life alone, and nowhere meets I!A weJeom or a friend, and still goes on, •,In darkness. Yet awhile, a little while,. And he shall toss the glittering leaves in play, And dilly with the flowers, and gaily lift ; • The slender herbs, pressed low by weight of rain, And drive, in joyous triumph, through the sky, ";White clouds, the laggard remnants of the storm. Alba! mints. HANNY IgEALL:I lam aphelor ! • Don't suiiie oipass judg 'mem ras upon iae—l must tell why lam what I aui. / can scarcely remember, when 'my father • removed to•the new village of Brookville. It *ma, too, that there is a dim'. remembrance of an old house by the lake,, It is all vague, dim and uncertain,however.). a Yet I some times find lingenng within me vision of an old brown building, with elms in frOnt and.. a sleepy lake down in the vale, such, I have , beard my father say,- :was our These impressions seem to me as much like dreams al realities, and no. wonder either, for the foot steps of long yearstave marched over them. But I do remember distinctly :a broad river that we crossed on our way to our new home, that is tbe most distinct of all—its silvery. \raves flashing around the flat we crossed l over on are not to be forgotten.' • • ' The streets of Brookville were not cleared of stumps when we entered a little cottage on main street. There was, a 'newness and freSliness about everything there. It, was not 18,4 before it began to' assume a busy char aiter, as new settlers came in, and new' stores , airl shops went up. My father was a brick layer, and I carried' some of the brick and mortar, that went' into what is now called . ''ibe old Court. House at Brookville," and I laiiPed to refit its brown Walls. Time flies! Among.ethers who came to Brookville was roan named Neall. He had., been a rne.r ell'ant in one of the seaport_ cities, but failing by; injuilicioui - speculations, he had retired. I with a little' wreck of his fortune, to the' new vilfage, either to recruit or to spend the eve ning.of his life in quiet. I never knew which. Ile had been a hard drinker during the few last - years-;--the demon in the wine glass had , been the main rock on which be wrecked his andhis - srife.he left in the city, in the grave -yard- he . hind , the steeple church--a n t there by hii - abases and cruelty. So said the old shoemaker who came with Neall front the city. , Nannies Neal! was like ..a bright star gleam ing in the stormuight among the clouds. She waslthe only child of the comer, and a love -I.y being she was ! She was just my age, or ' nearly, not quite—from Aprii to June iva.s differenc4, ' believe. Neall managed to get a house a few rods from ours; and he with his daughter, a sour old dame of a housekeePer, and the old shoe , maker, bothof whom came with him, consti tuted his family. 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' • \ " • -.: • down `in n the learing - on the trolikside:, after which the village was maned, and there for a full hour we played, "tatitive's . biise" among' • the broad walnut . andpopalar Stumps that. stood tike watching sentinels in the vale. - ' Thavery nest day we went 'sant together, on, the_hills with our baskets, - arid. gathered - whottlebeffies_, and talked . ,and played ,among - the -flicks, and when the drew tired sat down and she.told me of her mother-4f how AA used,to Weep while she sat at.- her feet, and then died in the old night with consumption and ajbrolien heart, and that ti*Prieit, said ,she went to live,with . the Virgin IFAngels. 1, have : Since thought that her matiier was per 4 haps tt•Patholie,;but of - this lam not certain.; Nei:di - put up 'a tavern in ,BroOkville, and the..neW settleragathered there and drank. I remeMher the first :night there Was a nUise , and latighing, fiddling and dancing, and sing-: 1 ing'there, and I - thought . 1 it must- be some -1 1 thingvery nice . .btit my mo.ther ' i told me it, ; was it!very avitled .; place,. and that 'I, mot , never: 0 there. 1 I often: wished My mother had not told me that, for, my Nannie was', there;and she was my dearest frieud. Years passed as others had, and NatinieH and I grew up; she ,was one or the loveliest', "creatures of female beauty I had lever seen.; She waa as gentle as the , whispermgs of--the!, white-iiinged zephyrs among the .April flow-' ; ers, and as pure as• the filly that bent beneath , , the iiiitniner breeze to the kiss' of the rippling -waves Of the meadow rill ; anji yet she was reared:among, the 'Wrecks of a father's fortune, and had beard, tithe after time, the rude, jest . .coarset and drunken ribaldry Of - drunken men aroundlhe little bar, her father kept. : . Nantiie•was- happily in possession of.the virtueswhich ennoble and beantifY woman's character:. She-was kintii and cheerful ;4'16-, Ither will nor inelaticholy, yet the lOvely calm 1 of her countenance was tinged with ashade i of sadness—motion, look, tone, deed, were gentle =44 the spring-time sun-beatn . 4 shim thefinge"anaeng the garden flowers - Nannie I Nealltwas the loved one in Brookville: . I'lov'eti her When we were childre,n playing on • copse and-.heath, - on, rock .andidell ; :and now that We were grown I loved lierwith all pas;itinate ilolatiy efiny younginanhOod. - N4t a Whisper, of fore ever passed hnr lips— end yet the secret was written in - and.folidly , eherished by.,.eath hidden heart. 1 Al, we Were 'happy 'in this secret heart worship. IWe were often together in the wild' tilled: where ; we - had gathered beriies when r h eliildren ; along the brbok where the waves danced o'er their pebbly-path that 10 to•the riVer; in the Old w s where oak and "pine ponied - their taper s i tit. res'u'p.to heav=en, we rambled :and dre.amed , and loved in -silence, with } none, but natiire with U., s.. For' hours ive 1.4-e sat on -the 'brook brink -watching the',l 1 — frisking : fish gliding like golden creatures among the erys )tal waves and the ' clear way.elets hastening aWav, the mellow sunlight , trembling ,onl the . jtee tops and falling-away behind the hills, and all\ the time we felt t hat ,'our _ hearts held Sweet communion in breathless whispers— dins a holy tie ; was Weaving ! : woof Land Web into our life and hope Sand destinies. 1 . -.1 . 01d Neal! became aware of eiigrowting, intimacy 'and became [enraged. One evening . when I had gone . to . spend a few hours Witt Nanglie atlher horne, - the 'Ohll-min eatne to tha little sitingroom' 1 wherei we_ vVere, Sad sternly,erdered me. sway. I arose, and a tear drop hint .upon Nannie'seyelid. IltoOk any hat,-and as I went out, th 6 old ,nansungOut after use—" Hod Carrier !" .; r'• I. The old housekeeper flattened her ugly face against the glass door betweeni the two rooms and echoed the chortis—"llod car rier!" I 1 The old shoemaker stopped itammeritig his leather as I went out, and spoke lowland said 1 he Would see me that evening. ! , 1 ! 'The rabble in the .dram lattop,l ithro - ugh Avhich I had to pass, cauft- the hots of the derisive taunt, and shoutedit afterine--"Ilod carrier!" The infernal taunt ringi in my ears 'et. . '' . ;' ' 1 ; [ . Th ,v atevening the, old shoemaker saw me and told me Nannie loved me find we should see each other clandestinely. LA than -ed him, and thrOugh his interference,. Nannie and I met each; other almost every da , and talked and loved. • . • . And!, this way we spent sot eof our hap ' piest hours, dreaming of the 1)1,-s that was to be our in a few short 'monthii for wren the • summer was pro.M l we, were ffit - e arried. Love with us was a ;reality, and in the Soli tudes about Brookville we &reamed. of' its 'I bliss, asiterrether we tvatched the drfiling of the white clouds ridiagon the ',blue ocean of the sky.. . - ' I Our dieams werelike[theclodds. . A cloud was in the sky with a:storm in Its bosom too, but. wesaw '.it not. ,:* , * i•*. •*, 1 * _I Christmas day we were to be maried.— ;, None knew,it, however, except !the old shoe inaker. and Rob 'Lincoln. RobWaskeonvey her to a neighboring louse in-,lfis'neW sleigh, and I was to meet him there with the[ village parson. ', Snell was the,arrangeinent. [- $ , The, dayslbefore Christmas , the hills and houses' were white With snob ; ifrOokville Was all life (Or the enjeYments Of the[sca 'son. That morning two strangers ar&eared in ottr midst, Non knew from wbetfee they came. them i n , 11 ti3