VoL. VII, No. 37.]
PUBLISHED BY
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POETRY.
First Death of the Household
DT AMELIA,
Oh, many a mournful year bath flown,
Since first amid our heavenly band
Death came and stole our loveliest one,
And bore her to the spirit land.
Yet shrined with many a sweet, sad thought :
That loved one's memory lingers still ;
For oh! she left a void that nought
But mournful thoughts could fill.
) , ,ears have passed by, I said, and yet
It only seems the other day,
Since round her dying bed we met,
With breaking hearts to weep and pray
Her gentle soul we strove to think,
Would linger yet 'mid earthly flowers,
Even when 'twas trembling on the brink
Of lovelier worlds than ours.
Yes! there e'en when all hope bath flown,
NA; e wept away each lingering hour,
Until the shades of death came down,
And closed at laa the shutting flower.
And yet it seem'd like sin to grieve
For one so patient and resigned,
For if she mourn'd 'twas but to leave
Such breaking hearts behind.
She died. Yet death could scarcely chill
Her smiling beauties, tho' she lay
With cold extended limbs, for still
Her face looked fairer than the day.
Those eyes once eloquent with bliss,
Were closed as soft as shutting flowers,
Oh! few could bear a sight like this—
Yet such a sight was ours.
How slowly wore that long, long day ;
Like spirits in some haunted place;
We'd sit and sigh, then steal away
To look once more on that pale face.
We could not think her soul had pass'd
The awful bounds of mortal strife ;
That that warm heart was cold at last,
That loved us more than life.
And when the funeral rite was said,
They bore her from her happy home,
And left her with the silent dead,
A pale-faced tenant of the tomb.
They reared no marble 'mid the flowers,
Above the grave to mark the spot ;
Yet many a heart as fond as ours,
Still holds her unforgot.
Months passed, yet still our sorrows gush'd,
The free glad laugh no more was heard,
And many a little voice was hushed,
That used to warble like a bird.
And though at times we strove to smile
Serenely for each other's sake,
We wept in secret all the while,
As if our hearts would break.
Yet why should death be linked with fear?
A single breath, a low drawn sigh,
Can break the ties that bind us here,
And waft the spirit to the sky.
Such was her end. A calm release,
No clingings to this mortal clod,
She closed her eyes and stood in peace
Before a smiling God.
Illappiness.--Where is it?
le it in fame ? Go probe the breast
Of fortune's favorite heir ;
And why doth woe that heart infest,
And anguish canker there ?
Is it in wealth ? Its empty breath,
Inconstant as the breeze,
Will blast ere long the laurel wreath,
That late it formed to please.
I; it in friendship or in love ?
Alas' they soon decay ;
The tears of disappointment prove
How feeble is their stay.
Ms not in all that here excels.
''Tis not in folly's round ;
Loot upward, mortals, there it dwells,
And only there is found.
THE JOURNAL.
HUNTINGDON, PENNSYLVANIA, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1842.
DELMOT TALE.
111'1XXIX6 JI COUSI.Ir,
OR, A SECRET OF FORTUNE I'EL-
LING,
BY A. W. NONE Y.
CIIAPFER. I.
Yet, no—not words, for they
But half can tell love's feeling;
Sweet flowers alone can say.
What passion fears revealing.
Moore's Language of Flower..
" Oh, Isabel, do look at this beautiful
boquet!" exclaimed a gay young lady,
running into the parlor where her cousin
was seated—"such a sweet little one:—
I wish I knew who sent it to tne !"
"Some of your admirers, very likely,"
returned the more staid Isabel, and you
get all the pretty presents," she continued,
affecting to pout at the idea. But the
other was too much engaged with her bo
quet to notice this playful jealousy.
tt This rose is splendid !" said she, turn.
ing up the petals with her taper white fin
gers, and inhaling its delicious fragrance—
., isn't it perfectly lovely, coz 1 And how
tastefully all are arranged ! tat, I do
tank I knew who sent it to met"
Had Sarah Williams chanced to notice
the embarrassed air of Isabel's brother,•
who was sitting on the sofa at the moment,
to appearance particularly engaged in
studying the varieFated figures of a Saxo.
ny carpet, she might have conjectured,
with her sex's intuitive shrewdness, suffi
cient for her own satisfaction on the sub
ject, without hav'ng occasion to push the
inquiry further. But in the haste to show
Isabel her flowers, she did not observe
that there was any other person in the
room, and therefore continued in her ex
travagant admiration and expressions of
wondr, with all the buoyant gaiety of a
light and careless heart, and partly in the
roguish design of teasing her amiable
cousin with the tantalizing sight.
" Isn't it beautiful 1" she continued,
"smell of it, dear it is so fragrant:"
" I would not he in such ecstacy with
it, Saade,"said !sat A, gravely push ing, the
bostuet to one side. " Peopie will ima
gine you never had a present of a pretty
hunch of flowers before."
" Nor 'have I ever received such a
lovely one, I am sure," she returned gaily
why how curiously %t is made up! It
must be a love-letter, certainly! Now if
I only knew the language oi flowers !
How provoking! Isn't it coz 1"
"Yes. But perhaps Frederick will
•read it to you," replied Isabel, " he un
derstands their language."
Oh, do, cousin Frederick, if you
please," she exclaimed, turning suddenly
around, causing him to start up and stam
mer "yes--no-1 don't understand—that
tot._
" Oh, don't be frightened, sir," said
she, bursting into a laugh at his confusion,'
"It won't bite you! Did you never hear
of a young lady's receiving allowery love-,
letter before 1"
" Yes, certainly I have," he answered,
recovering his faculties, " I only meant to
say that I do not know the meaning of
some flowers; but I would not presume to
read a young lady's correspondence."
" Suppoc she cannot read it herself, as
I have heard of being the case with even
vulgar foolscap blotted with ink, and she
wishes you to read it to her; you would
not be so ungallant as to refuse
"By no means; especially when my
pretty cousin ask• me," said he, smiling
as a slight flush ruse on her cheek at the
last sentence. .
" Well, then, Mr. Flatterer, what does
this one say ?" she asked with affected se
riousness, turning out the leaves ut a beau
tiful little tulip.
" 1 love you"—
" What do you say, sir ?"
"It intimates a declaration of love,
Saade," interposed Isabel, knowing that
her brother meant more than his man*
indicated. _ . .
Oh I knew that before," said she, with
a haughty toss of her head.
a Nay, then, Miss Pertness,
you do not
need my assistance," returned Frederick,
a little fearful he might unwisely betray
himself before the proper period for a cer
tain disclosure he had to make. _ .
" But the tulip is the only one 1 know
the meaning of, 1 assure you, and had for
gotten even that. So you will please to
proceed : Quo aignifie Ica autres las we
say in New Orleans."
"Taken as a whole, cousin, the boquet
declares a secret, yet undying passion for
you," said the interpreter, bending his
dark eyes upon her own with a thrilling
expression, which caused her to blush
deeply, although she affected not to no•
tice him. . _
But flowers are emblematical of a pas.
sion which will soon decay, notwithstand
ing. Don't you think so?'
They are like the heart's deep and
best feelings, which if they are not cher
ished must wither," answered Frederick,
with a suppressed sigh.
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTITUTION, ONE DESTINY."
" You don't say so! how melancholy, to
be sure!" returned Sarah jeeringly. " But
if the gentleman's love is as sweet as his
message is fragrant, he must be a dear
little fellow."
" Anil isn't love ever sweet ? Remem
ber how the poets describe the passion--
redolent ts►th bliss'—'perfumed with
sighs'—‘ honey•dew kisses' "
"That's quite sufficient, sir; sweet
enough in all conscience!"
"Sweets to the sweet, you know, cou
sin Sande"
" Hush, you simpleton! But do you
remember," continued she, turning again
to Isabel," do you remember the lady we
are to call upon to-morrow afternoon?"
"No ; who do you mean ?" asked
Isabel.
" Why old"—here her voice sunk to a
whisper, not so low, however, but that
Frederick's acute ear detected sounds
similar to " Old Margaret the fortune tel.
ler," and hereadily divined the nature of
their intended visit.
" You don't call her a lady ? whispered
Isabel, smiling.
" Hush!" she said In a whisper,
would not have your brother know we are
going for the world."
Frederick, however, left the room, as if
to give them an opportunity to complete
arrangements for the call on " old Mar
garet," a withered hag who had acquired
some notoriety among the young ladies of
the city, fur her shrewd conjectures and
predictions with regard to the all-impor
tant object with them, a happy marriage.
Sarah Williams was a beautiful girl!
ller's was the dark featured loveliness of
the sunny South, of which clime she was a
native. Her eyes were full, lustrous orbs
of a midnight blackness, which, when she
was animated, flashed with an expression
that thrilled the heart. Her hair was of
the like color, and usually bound up in
luxuriant folds at the back of her head or
flowing down her neck in long wavy tress
es, and her brow was as bright and sunny
as her own native sky. Her teeth were
of a pearly whiteness, and her cheeks,
though wearing the "shadowed livery of
,the burning sun," were of such a transpa
rent hue ns to reveal the bright blood
gleaming through, and tinging their dark
ness with a roseate light, as the setting sun
gilds the shadows of early eve. Her figure
was petite, but graceful- —and its outlines
were full and symmetrically rounded.--
Her step was light and free as the wild
gazelle's, and her laugh broke upon the
ear like her voice, with a clear ringing
tone, melodious as the swell of an organ.
She was an orphan; her parents both
dying of a prevailing epidemic, while she
was in the twelfth year of her age, leav
ing her almost penniless. By this calam
ity her deceased mother's brother became
her guardian, and she left the South
to become a resident of his family in
this city. Here her loveliness and sweet
disposition won her many friends, and her
relatives almost idolized her, while she in
return loved them, and strove in every
manner to manifest her grateful feeliags
for their many kindnesses. From their
unrestrained intimacy she had uncon
sciously won the heart of her cousin
Frederick to a deeper feeling thin that
warranted by their tic of relatf aship,
which, although she herself remfitigg in ig
norance of it, was observed wi i 13feasure
by her doating relatives, and thgy were
delighted at the idea of her becoeing, at
some future day, their daughter and sister
as well as cousin and niece.
CHAPTER H
MscsETH—Tell one, thou unknown power—
WITCH— He knows my thought.
About four o'clock on the succeeding
, two young ladies might have been
seen walking with hesitating steps down
one of the narrow lanes of Lensinfy,ton, as
if unused to the location, and hardly con
tident of being in the proper path they
wished to pursue. They were dressed in
elegant and fashionable style, and their
lair and manner plainly bespoke them re
sidents of some inure notable street than
the one they were at the time traversing.
'l'heir figures were erect and graceful,
strongly contrasting with the thick waists
and round shoulders of the course and
vulgar-looking females who jostled rudely
past them, with an occasional expression
of ridicule at the fragile forms and sylph
like motions of the two strangers. They
kept their features closely veiled however,
and glided on, too timid to bestow even a
glance in return, and passing down the
entire length of the street, turned into a
still more narrow court or alley, where
with a few steps, they stood in front of a
low, dark, mysterious looking frame
house, which to say the least of it, bore
evident marks of Time's decaying fingers
over the whole extent of its exterior.
Here they paused, and whispered to
gether for a few moments, and from their
gestures and looks of mistrustful curiosity
at the low entrance to the humble dwell
ing, each seemed anxious that the other
should have the honor at pioneering the
way within; but, however, through the
modest diffidnce usually attending . real
mer it, or from some other more cogent
reason, both timidly persisted in declining,
the acceptance of such distinguished pri
ority. At lentrth they ended the generous
contest by bot!i advancing at the same
time and together—one knocking noise
lessly with her fingers at the pane!, while
the other clung tremblingly to her left arm
as if for support & protection. They listen
ed for some aTioutes in breathless anxiety;
but hearing no sign of life inside, she was
constrained to knock again—and again,
thrice repeated, each time the weight of
her blows slightly increasing as she ac
quired from the delay a little fresh confi
dence, until they sounded three distinct
ladylike taps, when the noise of shuf
fling feet was heard, and the door was
slowly opened by a short, withered old
yellow woman, who, with a scowl on her
features, in a gruff toned voice inquired
their pleasure.
We wish to speak with the woman
who foretells fortunes," was the timid an
swer.
Then plesse to step in.—l am her,"
said the old hag, relaxing the frown upon
her tace, as far as the dignity of her pro
fession would admit.
The young ladies—whom the reader
has ere this surmised to be our two cousins
—ad tanced and seated themselves upon a
sort of wooden bench, which served for
the accommodation of visitors in lieu of a
sofa, when she entered an adjoining room,
and gave them ample time to wonder what
she could be about, or what had become
of her. At length she returned again and
briefly asked which of the young ladies
would like first to learn her future desti
ny ; adding " 1 never tells any body's
fortin' when there's any body else in the
room besides him who tells me."
This speech served to increase their ap
prehensions, and the same :ontest as be•
fore arose between them, when the woman
rather impatiently interrupted it.
" Never be ufeard, young ladies, he will
not let you see him, and he never hurts
any body. You'll only hear us talking;
so cum along one at ye!"
Go, i'ia;rel,” tvhispered Sarah, " you
go first and then I will go."
" No, my dear cousin," returned the
other, " I think you ought to go first, for
you wish to hear your fortune more than I
do mine."
But then I expected she would tell us
both together," said Sarah, when the old
woman manifested her increasing imps-
.
Bence by exclaiming, " don't be afeard,
Miss, nobody 'II hurt you."
" Go, coz!" said Isabel again ; "you
coaxed me to come up here, and now I
think you ought, certainly, to have your's
told first ; besides I don't care for my
part whether I have mine told at all, with
out you have a good one."
Thus constrained, Sarah rose to go,
when the sybil holding out her shrivelled
hand ,intimated that her lee was fifty cents,
to be paid in advance, and then led the
way into the other apartment.
The room into which they entered had
been purposely darkened bisotne articles
of wearing apparel hung over the only
window in it, and on the table in the cen-
tre was placed a small iron kettle, out of
which arose a pale blue smoke, filling the
room with a strong sulphurous scent, and
occasionally emitting a broad lurid flame,
glaring fitfully upon the ceiling, and rem
Bering the prevailing darkness doubly hid•
'eons. After going through a kind of in
cantation, the syhir approached Sarah, and
requested that she would remove her veil.
" Now," she continued, as it was re
luctantly thrown aside, " would ye like to
know what's to cum, or what's bin. %i iso?"
„ The future," whispered Sarah, too
frightened to speak aloud.
" Yes, that's what all young ladies want
to know ; and 1 needn't av axed the ques
tion. You want to find out when you'll
get married, and who's agoin' to be your
husband, I spots. Well, Miss Sarah
Williams, I'll tell you all about it in a few
minutes."
Sarah could not speak to answer the
question, for she was frightened and con
founded that the old woman should know
Shakspere.
her name without even making an inqui
ry; but tremblingly watched every mo
tion, as she went to the iron dish, and then
followed a confused muttering of two
voices, l'or the space of nearly five min
utes.
At length the old woman returning,
commenced her prophecy by saying—
.,you'll git married, Miss, hetore this
year's out, and at your uncle's house,
mind. I mus'nt tell your husband's name,
but he's a tall young gentleman, with
black hair, and dark eyes, high forrard,
and very rich. Ile loves you dearly, and
you will live very happy together, cos he
'will make a very loving husband. You
will have three children—two girls and
one boy, and lour husband will - die first,
and you"--
"Stop!—stop !—good woman cried
Sarah, half frightened eat of For wits at
the old woman's words, and the solemn
and unearthly tone in which she delivered
them, " I have heard enough ; I do not
I wish to learn when I am to die, because
it will make me unhappy. I will go now,
if please."
Darter," she returned slowly and
sternly, " you've began to hear your . for-
_ -
tin, and you must hear it all! you shoultrot
have conic if you were afeard. Your hus
band will die first, and as I said before,
and you will also die a little arter, cos
you'll take his death so much at heart—
and all before you're forty years old.—
There, that's all," saying this she took her
hand and led her back, nearly fainting, in
to the room from whence they came.
Isabel, who sat anxionsly awaiting their
re-appearance, seeing her cousin's pale
features and agitated manner, refused to
have her own lortune told, in spite of old
Margaret's assurances that there was
"nothing to be afeard of," and Sarah, was
nothing loath to leave the house as quickly
as possible.
On their way home Isabel was all curi
osity to know what the " old witch" told
her cousin, and Sarah, with some reluc
tance, related in strict confidence, all that
had been said.
Why, it's Frederick —my brother!" she
exclaimed with astonishment at the coin,
cidence, and she burst into aloud laugh at
her accuracy of description, and at the
idea that he should be the one foretold by
old Margaret. Though Isabel could not
but believe that the old hag possessed the
power of foretellng occurrences, yet it ap•
peered singular she should have described
one so as to be recognized. Clad it been
an indistinct description of some dark and
mysterious stranger, it would have been
more in accordance with her idea of for
tune-telling.
With Sarah, however, the reality of all
she had listened to was forcibly impres
sed upon her mind ; every word sunk into'.
her heart, carrying conviction along with
it. She felt it impossible to doubt even
the slightest portions of the information
received, and she was fairly overcome
with astonishment. "flow,"thought she,
could a total stranger have learned my
name thus readily except by supernatural
meansl How, Could she h - ave known that
a gentleman, answer ing the description or
my cousin, was in love with me ? And
still more surprising, how came she to be
aware of that iecret - , Which has been scarce
ly breathed even to my own thought, much
less to another ? It is certainly strange
—very strange !" She pondered over it
long and intently; yet she could not wish
the prediction false. The veil seemed now
lifted Irom before her eyes, and the whole
prospect of futurity lay within veiw, while
all was fair—bright as her most ardent
hopes could wish ; she loved her noble
and generous•hearted cousin ; but till now
had not cherished the remotest idea that
they would be married, for her dependent
situation upon the kindness of her friends
forbade the thought, and she had for this
reason ever treated him with more reserve
than she really felt toward him, deeming
it a duty to refrain from encouraging his
evident affe.ction for her.
CHAPTER M.
There are more things in heaven and earth
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
ShaknJtcare.
A few days after the visit to old Mar
garet, Sarah sat alone in her uncle's par ,
lor, leaning her head upon her hand, and
gazing listlessly from the window toward
the sky. Her thoughts were wandering
far' away to her own native clime, and
she signed as the remembrance of the
scenes of her early youth passed before
her mind. She saw the home of her
childhood, looking like a fairy palace amid
the orange groves, beneath whose fragrant
shade she had strayed, and plucking bright
blooming flowers in the unclouded gaiety
of a glad heart that had known no ;
and it seemed to her an elysium, from
which she had been driven by the relent..
less hand of fate, to wander alone, as it
were, unprotected and dependent over a
cold and selfish world. From thence her
thoughts reverted to her uncle's kindness
and her cousins' manifested affection
for her, a penniless orphan, living upon the
bounty of their father, while her heart
overflowed with a deep and yearning sense
of gratitude toward them all, and her eyes
became suffused with tears. But sup
presing these emotions, she strove to di
vert her thoughts to another subject, for
she knew it would deeply pain any of her
friends, if they should chance to find her
weeping.
The prediction of her future marriage
with Frederick Somers made a deep im
pression upon her mind, and hail a contra
ry effect from what might have been ex
pected upon her actions. She became
suddenly distant and reserved in her man
ner toward him, for she feared that Isabel
might imagine that she endeavored to as
sist in the fulfilment of the prophecy, and
might not perhaps approve of it. But
these thoughts v rouged her amiable coos
in, who was even then looking forward
[WnoLE No. 349.
I with delight in the anticipation of being
endeared to her sweet Saade by nearer ties
I than those which bound them nt present.
Frederick was pained by her change of
manner, and sought his sister to learn the
cause of it, it possible from her. Isabel
unfolded to him the whole story of their
late visit to the fortune-teller; but to her
surprise he manifested little satisfaction
• at the circumstance, thought she was well
aware he vas deeply in love, and did not
desire a greater boon than the hand of his
lovely cousin. She. however, attributed
it to his ignorance of the sex, supposing, as
was the case, that lie disbelieved in the su
pernatural wisdom of old Margaret, and
augured unfavorably for his suit, from Sa
rah's apparent disapproval of the fortune
laid down for her. But she advised him.
however, not to dispair fur she felt assu
red be was not all indifferent to her cousin;
add, perhaps, it he urged his passion in
connection with the prediction which she
appeared to believe, he migl.t not fail to
win her. Encouraged by his sister's ad.
vice, he resolved to hazard his fate upon a
single cast; and by chance entered the
parlor while Sarah was thus alone and in
terrupted her musings. Such a favorable
opportunity was not to be lost, and he
determined to improve it to the best ad
vantage,
" Have you discovered the donor of that
boquet yet, cousin?" he inquired, advan
cing with a smile.
She started at this question, but assum
ing an indifferent tone and manner, repli
ed--
Oh, no ; I have not troubled myself at
all about it. It was sent by some of HIT
friends, 1 suppose as a jest. I do not know
what else it could mean."
This gave a dash to his spirits, for lie
fondly imagined his beautiful offering had
found unbounded favorin her sight, and he
could scarcely repress a sigh that strdg
gled for relief in his breast. But bearing
up, he continued.
" I thought you were very much pleased
with it, and eager to learn who sent it to
you, as it appeared to be such a rare one."
" I should like to know well enough ;
but I receive so many gifts of the kind, that
I forget all about them in a short time."
"And do you never think afterwards
of the givers?" he inquired mournfully.
'Why should I care about them'?" asked
Sarah coldly, " they are nothing to me."
lie now began to fear more than ever
that the thought of becoming his wife was
displeasing to her ; but he felt it was time
to learn the truth, for his impatient spirit
could not brook suspense.
Would it displease you," he com
menced, hesitatingly, " to know that I
took the liberty of sending you that bunch
of flowers:"
You, cousin Frederick !" she exclaim
ed starting and blushing deeply, while her
eyes sparkled with pleasure. He, how
ever, stupidly attributed their flashing
brilliancy to another cause, though he
could not exactly understand what reason
she had to blush. "Did you really?" she
asked with evident interest, forgetting at
the moment her self-command.
.. t did, cousin, and in the hope that it
might intimate to you, what I had not then
the confidence to tell with words—that I.
love you. Here me, dear Sarah," he con
tinued imploringly, "do not scorn me—
for if you know how deeply 1 love you,
you would nut treat me thus. You turn
away—then I may not hope," he said de.
spairingly. As he thus spoke, the witch's
prophecy recurred to her mind, and the
singularity of the circumstances, induced
her, despite her responsive feelings, to
smile.
redenek started up angry and excited
at her heartlessness, as he deemed such
extraordinary levity of conduct, and said
bitterly, " Can I believe my senses, Miss
Williams ! 1 little deemed my sweet and
gentle cousin would ever treat me thus,
even though she may nut bear the same
feelings toward me, which I profess and
bear toward her. But lam answered, and
henceforth all the bright hopes of love and
happiness which I have so long and fondly
cherished, are thus carelessly crushed,
even without their cold hearted object fee
ling how much I would have loved her,
and how deep is the despair to which she
doomed my poor heart."
"Pardon me, Frederick," said she, re
covering her seriousness at his words,
" that I was unable to command myself.
I did not mean to offend, I assure you.—
And now, therelOre, from this very unfor
tunate circumstance, I am induced to
confess to you, what I still should have
hesitated in saying, had I beer. able to
have maintained a proper decorum, as you
told me of your affliction—that I am not
• as yea imagine indifferent to it. Yet, you
must not urge me farther."
And why not, dearest t will you not
• love me 1 Will you not marry me ?"
" It may not be, Frederick, your pa
• rents and sister x•ould disapprove of it,
and deem me no more than a fortune tun
; ter."
no not speak thus, dear Sareh," h•
inter! upted, they a• earnestly desire ear