settees, a piano, harp, and violin), where, midst music and the merry dance, the hours passed fleetly by until eleven o'clock, when we all sought repose within our chambers. The next morning a delicious breakfast awaited us, after which parties were formed for riding, boating, and fishing. We joined a boating party, and for two delightful hours skimmed o'er the surface of the sparkling waters in a beautiful skiff, that seemed as if made by some graceful water-spirit, it was so light and rapid in its movements. We stopped at a picturesque-looking island to gather wild flowers, and returned to Summerdale in time for lunch. The remaining hours of the morning were passed in conversation, music, and reading. Thus, with variation of amusements passed the fleet-winged days at Summerdale. One morning, about a week after our arrival, not feeling very well, I declined joining my friends (who had determined upon a picnic in the woods), and purposed spending the day within my chamber; but Mrs. McNaully kindly volunteered to amuse me, and, after having given the necessary orders to her well-trained domestics, she accompanied me to what she called her "snuggery." Upon opening the door, we were greeted by the music of birds, and the joyous bark of a little dog who sprang from his soft bed in a nicely quilted basket, and capered joyfully around his mistress, who placed before him a nice roll and a bowl of milk, which his "dogship" most eagerly partook of. Some fresh water, clean gravel, sponge-cake, and chickweed sparkling with dew, were then given to the Canaries; the exotics that filled the veranda upon which the windows opened were next attended to; every withered leaf was gathered, and cool water sprinkled upon each plant; then it seemed as if, in gratitude for the kindness, they emitted greater fragrance than before. After all the pets had been cared for, and whilst Mrs. McNaully was preparing some sewing ere she sat down" for a chat," I amused myself examining the curiosities and paintings that adorned the room. There were several very superior crayon sketches that attracted my attention, but one in particular interested me exceedingly. It represented a very handsome man, in the prime of life, holding a beautiful child in his arms; the little one was shaking a rattle with one hand, whilst the other was twined in the dark curls of its father's hair; the expression of each face was extremely lifelike; altogether, it appeared to be a masterpiece of art. "Dearest Mrs. McNaully," I exclaimed, "will you not relate me the history of this picture?" "I know it must be an interesting one, my dear child," she replied; "there is no wondrous tale attached to it; the sketch was taken by myself, and represents two beings who were very dear to me. As their fates were closely linked with mine, I will relate you some of the chief incidents in my life." Delighted with the prospect of an interesting story, I seated myself beside her, when she commenced the following relation : "I was the only child of a Scotch laird, whose patrimony, though moderate, was yet sufficient to gratify our unextravagant wants. My mother died when I had reached my sixth year. Unfit to take charge of one so young, my father solicited a distant relative to make his house her home, and undertake the entire direction of my education. She accepted his offer, and proved well worthy of the confidence reposed in her. Dear Miss Smiley!-methinks I see her now, with a sad yet kind expression upon her * sweet face as she reproved me-but oh! how gentlyfor some of my many misdemeanors, or endeavored to implant in my youthful heart the principles that were to sustain and strengthen it through the trials of after years. How much have I to thank her for! "Had she not endeavored to convince me of the necessity of performing my duty, whatever it might cost, and of drawing happiness and pleasure from the sweet influences of home, instead of seeking them abroad, I might now have been a wretchedly unhappy being; for, in my after experience, I have beheld woman radiant in beauty, and wondered how she could so fearfully forget her mission upon earth. Endowed with the power to render home attractive, she fled from its quiet enjoyments to plunge into the vortex of fashion and dissipation, trampling in her progress upon the holiest and most precious feelings of the human heart. In vain bright childhood stretched forth its arms to win her back to joy. No, no! her ear had hearkened to the syren voice of flattery, and none other had music for it now. She had tasted of the glittering cup that pleasure proffers, and the fountain of love and sincerity was quaffed by her no more. "All, all that renders life pure and sweet she turned from with disgust; the world had greeted her with its most winning smiles, and, like a charmed bird, she was won to destruction. "And again have I beheld her, when fortune had bereft her of the glittering gems that made her so brilliant to the world. Relentless time, with unpitying hand, had robbed her of the charms with which nature had so profusely endowed her; the brightness that caused her to be a star amid the many had gone out like a lamp, leaving all in darkness around her, for she had treasured not the oil of love and charity within her heart, and had naught to give her consolation in the hours of her misery. Woman should never trust to the smiles and flattery of the world. They hover around her in the days of prosperity; but when the clouds of sorrow and adversity lower above her, they leave her unthought of, and uncared for in her despair. Thus we cannot be too grateful to those who implant in our childish hearts the seeds of humility, charity, and contentment, thus placing within our grasp a staff to guide our footsteps through the thorns and quicksands that beset the path of life, "I had reached my eighteenth year when Miss Smiley was entreated to take charge of another pupil, as I was now capable of conducting my father's house, and prepared for studying alone. She consented to go, notwithstanding the vehemence with which I opposed her. My dear child,' (were her words at our parting,) 'this is the first trial in your young life; bear with it bravely, and you will be rewarded. It is for your benefit, as well as that of others, that I leave you; the time has now come when you should act for yourself, and expand those womanly qualities which I trust you possess; but if sorrow should visit you, send for me, and I will hasten to the child of my heart. "For some months after the departure of my beloved governess, I felt listless and depressed, and was only aroused from this apathy by my father announcing the arrival of a very dear friend (a widower) with his only child, and bidding me prepare for their arrival. Guests came but seldom to our quiet mansion; therefore the novelty and bustle of preparation caused me to forget for a time the loss o'er which I had been grieving. The finest linen was brought forth, the silver brightened, and the best chambers comfortably prepared for the accommodation of the expected guests. I had not questioned my father in relation to the friend he expected, but supposed him to be a quiet, middleaged gentleman, with his tall son, or daughter. Upon their arrival being announced, entering the drawing-room to welcome them, I was startlingly surprised at beholding the group represented in that little drawing. I have been where youth and beauty congregate, but never beheld a face more winningly handsome, or a more graceful figure than belonged to Walker Saunders. The warm crimson mounted to my cheek and brow as I met his beaming but respectful gaze; and, when my father introduced us, I felt as awkward as a country girl could feel; but he came forward with graceful ease, and, taking my hand, expressed the pleasure he experienced in meeting the daughter of his friend; then laughingly disentangling his hair from the rosy fingers of little Nina, he gave her to the nurse, and, placing a chair for me, seated himself.by my side. His graceful conversation and brilliant remarks caused me to forget he was a stranger, and ere half an hour had passed away, I was interchanging sentiments with him as if he were a well-known friend. "Tis strange what power some minds possess to draw forth the thoughts that lie hidden in our hearts, and there plant the impress of their own feelings! "Weeks fleeted by, and still Walker Saunders was our guest. Time had failed to depreciate him in my estimation. My father loved him as if he were his own child, for he was the son of one of his earliest and best friends. He had not seen Walter since his eighteenth year, when his father died; but he called him friend for that father's sake, and, now that he knew him, for his own inestimable qualities. Walter had early manifested a desire to seek his fortune upon the bosom of old ocean. At the age of sixteen, he made his first voyage, and from that period until the present, with the exception of a few months at a time, his home had been upon the surface of the deep. He was now the owner and captain of a fine vessel (called the Sea Foam), which, undergoing repairs, afforded him an opportunity of visiting his father's friend. Some four years previous to this visit, he married a beautiful West Indian; she was an orphan, and had no near kindred to bind her to the home of her birth; she therefore willingly accompanied her husband to a pleasant home in the city of Boston. He left her not until she had gathered kind though new friends around her; then he again sped across the waters; but this time his heart was in his home within the busy city. When he returned to that home six months after, he was shocked at the alteration that had taken place in his wife's appearance; the seeds of consumption had been concealed within her breast, and the severity of a northern climate revealed them when too late. All that human skill could effect was tried to save her, but in vain. Ere two summers had smiled upon their union, Nina Saunders slept within the silent grave. The little Nina was but pressed to a mother's heart, and was then motherless; thus, though young in manhood, sorrow's experience had cast a sadness o'er his spirit that caused him to be more interesting to one whose young heart had never hearkened to the voice of love. Was it strange, then, that one so perfect in every manly quality should be the first to awaken that voice within its depths? But I knew not that it dwelt there, until the evening previous to the morning of his departure, when we took for the last time our favorite walk to the ruins of an ancient castle. Our walk had been a silent one, with the exception of some few commonplace remarks, and in speaking them our voices shook with an unaccountable tremor. When we reached the ruins, the sun was just gilding with his parting rays the tops of the shattered chimneys; the birds were returning to their nests amid the moss and vines that clung to the broken walls. We seated ourselves upon a moss-grown column; together we sat for some moments, yet no words were spoken. I looked up wonderingly at Walter; but the expression of his dark eyes caused mine to seek the ground, whilst the warm blood stole to my cheek and brow. Dearest Alice,' he murmured, as he drew me to him, 'I love you fondly, nay, devotedly; though I offer you not the first affections that have warmed my heart, I implore you to accept the hand of one whose love for you is as true and fervent as ever dwelt within the breast of man. I have known but little happiness. Will you not take compassion on me, and impart a brightness to the remainder of my life which will eause me to forget its early gloom? Speak, dearest,' he exclaimed; will you not be my own sweet wife, and a mother to my little Nina?' He gazed into my face as he concluded; the expression he there met with was sufficient without words, and he clasped me to his noble heart with all the fervor of joyous love. As we walked homeward, he told me he would intrust Nina to my guardianship until his return, when our marriage was to take place, and he promised after this voyage to bid farewell to the sea, and that, if my father consented to accompany us, we would seek together a flower-girt home on the Western Continent. Thus forming plans for the future, we reached home. My father expressed surprise that we had stayed so late, but when Walter led me to him, and asked his consent to our union, he joined our hands together, and fervently called down from Heaven a blessing upon his children! "The next morning was a stormy and cheerless one; the clouds hung in black and heavy masses above the trees, which rocked fearfully beneath the sharp breath of the storm-king. We tried to persuade Walter to defer his departure; but he had promised to be on board his vessel within two days; he had but time to fulfil that promise, and could not tarry, though he fervently wished to do so; the moment had come to say farewell! Walter folded me in his arms, and pressed his trembling lips to mine; then gazing with one long last fond look into my eyes, whispered farewell, mine own one-our meeting will be a joyous one.' The little Nina stood beside us; taking her up, he kissed her o'er and o'er again; then placing her in my arms, and murmuring blessings upon his precious ones, he was gone. "Now our home seemed as if overcast by a cloud. Darling Nina alone could dispel its shadows; her childish prattle and bird-like laugh were the only glad things in the dwelling. Many of my leisure moments were spent in wandering to those dear old ruins, and sketching in crayons. It was then I sketched Walter and Nina, as they looked when I entered the drawing-room on the day of their arrival. Letters too came to gladden my heart. When one came, I would hasten to my chamber, and read it over many times, then give the little pet all the kisses papa sent her. Those were indeed glad moments, but they were soon to pass away forever. The time had arrived when the vessel was expected home; gladness once again dwelt within our hearts; and we were joyfully awaiting his arrival when a letter sealed with black was handed to my father; he appeared bewildered, first gazed at the letter, then at me, but at last gained sufficient courage to open it; he read but a few lines, when that aged head was bowed on his hands, the letter fell to the floor, and his whole frame shook with emotion. 'Dearest father,' I exclaimed, 'what has occurred?' but as he answered me not, I eagerly snatched the letter from the floor, and in an instant had drunk in all its fatal contents. Years could not have contained more agony than that single moment did to me. Even now, my dear young friend, when the snows of sixty winters have whitened my hair, the memory of that letter causes my heart to quiver with emotion. Here it is, read it yourself; and Mrs. McNaully took from a little ebony box a letter worn and discolored by the hand of time: its contents were as follows: 'MR. MCINTOSH DEAR SIR: Being first mate of the Sea Foam, I am under the very painful necessity of communicating to you distressing tidings of your friend Captain Saunders. We were homeward bound, when, one morning, as the captain was promenading the deck, a little girl (the child of one of our passengers) fell overboard; fearing that by the time the boat reached her she would be drowned, and, being an expert swimmer, he gave the alarm, and sprang into the sea to rescue her; as he jumped from the deck, his head must have come into violent contact with the side of the vessel, causing him to become insensible, for he sank and rose no more. If he had become the prey of a shark, we would have perceived evidence of his fate in the discolored foam upon the waters; but it was not so, and the waves rolled on as calmly as before. The child was brought back to its mother's arms, but life had fled from its little body. Our voyage home has been a most sorrowful one. Crew and passengers mourn deeply the loss of the kindest of captains, and the noblest of "You may imagine (the old lady again began) how desolate life appeared to me when I recovered from my illness; it seemed as if years of misery had been heaped upon me; even sweet little Nina now failed in drawing a smile to my pale lips. Kind Miss Smiley had hastened to me in the night time of my sorrow, and she now soothed and watched o'er me with all the tenderness and devotion of a mother. My father's health had been for some time declining, and, ere I had become resigned to Walter's death, I was called by the Almighty to receive the dying breath of my only parent; he blessed me in his last moments, and appointed me guardian to Nina, upon whom I had settled my portion of Walter's little fortune. We laid my beloved father to sleep beneath the shadow of a vine-clad rock in the wild and picturesque-looking burial-ground, where for centuries his relatives had been laid to rest. My mother slept beside him. Thus in death are reunited love's holiest and purest ties. My home was now the abiding-place of painful memories, and our means having become barely sufficient for our wants, in consequence of losses my father met with previous to his death, I concluded to seek a home in America. My dear governess consented to accompany us. Having disposed of everything save some precious relics, with heavy hearts we bid adieu to the land of our birth and the home of our ancestors. The last spot I visited ere we departed was the ruins of the old castle; and as I sat again upon the moss-grown column, methought that Walter was gazing down upon me from Heaven. We stood upon a stately vessel's deck, and, as I gazed upon the wide expanse of waters, I pressed the little Nina more closely to me, for I was fearful I might lose her as I lost her father. Sweet and bitter fancies were mine during our voyage; sometimes the thought that Walter had been the victim of some dreadful monster of the deep would cause me to shudder with horror, and then again in imagination I would gaze down, down into ocean caves, and there behold him stretched on a bier of coral, a shroud of seaweed wrapt around his noble form, snowy pearls gleaming amid his raven curls, whilst beautiful sea-nymphs chanted o'er him a sweet and solemn requiem! Thus were my thoughts chiefly employed until we arrived in Boston, the city of our destination. Some weeks after our arrival, we succeeded in obtaining a commodious dwelling, for it was our intention to open a boardingschool for young ladies. At first we were not very successful, but within a few years our unwearying exertions, and the high recommendations we brought from Scotland, gained for our seminary the reputation of being one of the best in Boston, and we were obliged to limit the number of our pupils. Kind friends gathered around us, and life again wore charms for me. Darling Nina had grown quite tall, and very beautiful; her disposition was gentle, and deeply affectionate. Among our pupils, there was one in particular who became extremely attached to her; the many kindnesses she lavished upon my little pet won my heart. This young lady's name was Fanny McNaully; she was a bright embodiment of frankness and benevolence. The dazzling fairness of her complexion, and the sunny brightness of her curls, formed a beautiful contrast to the rich hue of Nina's skin, and the glossy ebon of her hair. "Fanny, too, was an orphan; but she possessed a dear brother many years older than herself, who loved and cared for her with all the tenderness of a parent. Though residing many miles away, he frequently came to visit her. Sometimes he remained for several weeks in the city; then I had opportunities of becoming more intimately acquainted with him. His gentle manners and benevolent counte nance interested me exceedingly. He wrote to me several times relative to Fanny's education. Miss Smiley laughingly remarked that it would have been more correct to have addressed his letters to her. When Fanny had been with us nearly three years, she returned home for the purpose of becoming her brother's little housekeeper. Then his letters came more frequently, and but three months had elapsed after Fanny's departure, when he came to the city. I was alone in the parlor when he called, and was about to send a servant for Miss Smiley; but he prevented me by saying, 'Will Miss McIntosh grant me a few moments' attention?' and, leading me to a sofa, he poured into mine ear words I ne'er expected to hearken to again. But he had found a nook within my heart that until now I had supposed was filled alone with memories of the dead; and when, after confiding to him the history of my early love, he still solicited a heart whose first throbs of love had been awakened by another, I consented to become his bride. "Miss Smiley looked surprised when she entered the parlor, and found us together; but, after Edwin left, I told her our engagement, when, with a countenance beaming with kindness and sympathy, she fervently blessed me. "After having fulfilled all engagements with my pupils, I transferred my school to another, for Miss Smiley had resolved to return to Scotland. She wished to spend her last days amid the dear familiar scenes of her native land; but she was not to leave until some time after our wedding. "We were married upon a bright morning in September at church. Fanny and little Nina were my bride maidens. After the ceremony had taken place, we all came to Summerdale, where every preparation had been made for a brilliant entertainment. Many guests had been invited, and a portion of them awaited our arrival in the drawingWhen I had exchanged my travelling dress for a wedding robe of white satin, and placed a cluster of tea-roses in my hair, Edwin came for me. Kissing me fondly, he conducted me down stairs, and with a proud smile presented me to his guests. room. "The next day, as Edwin, Nina, and myself were seated together in the breakfast-room, Fanny entered with mock solemnity, bearing a bunch of keys upon a salver, which she delivered to me, formally resigning her office of housekeeper; then laughing joyously, she threw her arms about my neck, and kissed me repeatedly. Edwin's eyes sparkled with pleasure as he beheld this graceful manifestation of affection, and, placing her on the sofa beside me, he sat down and put his arm around us both as if thus to draw us more closely together; then clasping Nina with his other arm, he exclaimed, 'Now indeed we are a united family; may we ever be as happy as at present!' "Miss Smiley remained with us until after the wedding festivities, and then bade us adieu with tears and blessings, to seek again the home of her youth. 66 "Though unblessed by children, our union was truly a happy one. For twenty years I scarcely knew a sorrow; but then, alas! tears of agony were again wrung from my heart, when stern death severed me from my husband. No friends were with me when Edwin died (his disease was enlargement of the heart). Fanny and Nina were married, and living in Kentucky. When they heard the sad tidings of death, they hastened to mingle their tears with mine. Now that I was alone and sorrowing, Fanny and Nina each offered me a home; but this dwelling was endeared to me by happy memories, and, though a shadow has been cast upon it, I determined never to leave it until death drew me from its shelter. "A few years after my widowhood, I lost the greater portion of the property I possessed by the failure of the bank in which my funds were invested. Many of my friends advised me to dispose of Summerdale; its value would enable me to live luxuriously in a smaller establishment. But no; it had been my bridal home, and the loved home of my husband, and now it would have caused me bitter sorrow to have seen it pass into the hands of strangers. The very thought was desecration; therefore, to enable me to retain it, I concluded to receive a few boarders for the summer season, and I feel more cheerful since I have done so. There is less time left to me in which to dream o'er the past, and I often have opportunities of imparting strength to the invalid, and of beholding a smile of gladness steal to the lips of the mourner. It is most true that we are never so happy as when usefully employed. But I am afraid, my young friend, that I have wearied you with my egotism; and, as it is now the hour for lunch, I will impose no longer upon your indulgence." Having assured her that I had been deeply interested, and owed her many thanks for the pleasant morning I had spent, I accompanied her to the dining-room. After partaking of some light refreshment, I strolled to a little grotto at some distance from the house, and there meditated on the simple narrative I had heard. How beautiful was the picture it presented! Though clouds of sorrow had flitted o'er her life, the sunbeams of happiness had also gilded it; her trials were caused not by error; therefore the sting of remorse embittered not her declining days. No children had been given to her; but to those who needed love and consolation she was a mother, pouring out of the fulness of her heart the balm of sympathy into theirs. I had heard from many of her goodness. If she had been willing to give up the blessed task of feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, she could have lived even at Summerdale without taking boarders; but life would have ceased to wear charms for her if she had been deprived of the happiness of ministering to the wants of suffering humanity. During my stay at Summerdale, I had the pleasure of meeting Fanny and Nina (Mrs. Somers and Mrs. Lincoln), with their noble-looking husbands, and beautiful children. Then indeed our hostess seemed to have regained her youth, for the treasures of her heart were with her, and one morning I discovered her playing "pussy wants a corner" with the little ones, and I assure you it derogated naught from her dignity to mingle in the innocent sports of little children. Years, long years have passed away. I have wandered in many places, and mingled much with the busy world; but never have I met with a more beautiful character than our hostess, nor spent a more delightful season than at Summerdale House. LINES SUGGESTED BY THE PLATE OF "LORD, HAVE MERCY UPON US!" IN THE OCTOBER NUMBER. BY RICHARD COE. ABBA FATHER! humbly bending We have done the things forbidden, Left undone the things of right; And our souls' pure love is hidden 'Neath the shadows as of night: Shine, oh! shine, thou Sun of Heaven, Chase our darkness far away, And let unto us be given The sweet light of perfect day! Lamb of God! all pure and spotless, Living still, and undefiled, Often have we, gay and thoughtless, Wandered, like the erring child, From our Father's home, and heaven, And His warnings oft defied; Be our souls' dark sins forgiven Thou for us wert crucified! Holy Spirit! boon of heaven, That within our souls hath birth, Oh! assure us we 're forgiven! Lift our spirits from the earth Of a dear Redeemer's love! |