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beautiful of all Moore's recent songs, "I love but | informal performance. While this reflection was thee," and at once began, "If after all you still passing in my mind, the Lieutenant, who had been will doubt and fear me." Scarcely, however, had silently and intently gazing at the chararari, withthe last word of the line died upon my lips than out comprehending in the slighest degree its charit was taken up, prolonged, and swelled into a most acter or object, addressed me with comical gravity, unearthly yell, immediately behind us, starting us holding on to the piazza railing and involuntarily almost out of our boots; and we saw a cavalcade, see-sawing his body backwards and forwardswhose extravagantly grotesque character defies all" Had you done me the honor, Sir, to inform me description, slowly file past and stop a few yards of your extensive preparations to serenade Miss from us, beneath the windows of an old widower, Alegna, you would not have had my poor services." who but a day or two before had married a young Vainly did I endeavor to stop him, and he went on maiden. This unequal match, according to an an- with a most ridiculous running commentary upon cient Creole custom, subjected the perpetrators to my position and fancied designs,-every word of a charavari, which could only be escaped by a do- which I knew was heard by my lady love, until, no nation of money to the poor, the church, or to some longer able to withstand the mortification of my object of charity or general utility. In times past, position in her presence, I fairly took to my heels, when the Creole was the controlling influence of just as the half-suppressed tittering from the winMobile, New Orleans and Pensacola, the chararari dow above began to be audible;—and by the mornwere common, and no old bridegroom could expect ing stage I was on my route to New Orleans. I to escape the penalty, but by the commutation spo- never ventured into her presence afterwards. Her ken of. On the present occasion, as I afterwards conquests and her fate form an interesting history learned, the ancient lover had been duly and re- of gifted woman's career, and they may yet be spectfully called upon, but he indignantly refused given to the world. Never have I forgotten the to make any compromise, and the result was a mortifications of that night, and to this hour my chararari, the magnificent hideousness and absur- cheek burns and a groan escapes me whenever I dity of whose features went beyond the memory of think of my first Serenade.

"the oldest inhabitant." Nothing could exceed my surprise upon the appearance of the cavalcade, whose leader mounted upon a diminitive mule, was elaborately decked out in parti-colored finery, with a nose upon his face about a half a yard long. He gave us a blast of a long tin stage horn, which was swelled and prolonged by the trumpets, drums and bells of his companions, until the window panes about us fairly rattled. Next came two pages leading two cows, upon which were placed figures made to resemble, as nearly as possible, the happy couple for whom these honors were intended, the gentleman sporting an enormous pair of cow's horns; and these figures were being constantly addressed by their proper names, congratulated upon their ⚫ nuptials, and asked a thousand ridiculous questions, to all of which they replied in the assumed voices and styles of the parties. Some fifty or sixty equally grotesque and extravagant figures, each one of whom did his prettiest upon a tin pan, kettle drum, stage horn, or some other horrible instrument of discord, thus took up their station near us, and at once commenced their serenade. Such a performance by such a company must be seen and heard to be understood. Dogs, cats and pigs, securely done up in sacks, and held under the arm, were original substitutes for bag-pipes; and at a squeeze or pinch of the tail, sent forth terrible treble to the baser discords of trumpets and drums. My mortification and annoyance at this interruption were augmented by the absurd apprehensions of a sensitive mind that Alegna might misunderstand my intention-might think perhaps that I was a particeps criminis in this

THE LAND OF DREAMS.

Far away-far away,

'Neath the light of changeful skies-
Silver gleams, whose moony ray
Melting into twilight gray,
Deepen as they farther stray,-

Deep and still a valley lies.
Mortal eyes have ne'er beheld

All the things that therein dwell,
And the mystery that broods
O'er th' enchanted solitudes,
Mortal-tongue may never tell.
For a realm of wondrous things,
Shadows dark, and dazzling gleams,
That bewilder human sense,

Is that mystic Land of Dreams.

Times and seasons are there none

In that far and wondrous land,
And its dim and shadowy space

By earthly airs are never fanned;
None may pierce its cavern's depths,
There may mete its heaven's height,
For they stretch too far away

For the ken of mortal sight;
And a hazy light, and pale,
Broods above the quiet vale,
Veiling like a misty pall,
The horizon's distant wall.

In that dim and solemn region
Phantom-forms forever range,
Pale and wan-a shadowy legion,

Faces, motions, all things strange.

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When the shadows dim and dreary
Gather round the path of life,
And our spirits, worn and weary,

Faint beneath their fever strife,

Comes an angel sweet and mild,

Gently waves a viewless wand. Lulls us into calm repose,

Leads us to that mystic land:

Mid its pathless solitudes

As our trembling spirits stray.

Lo! what strange and shadowy phantoms
Glide about our haunted way!
Forms of beauty glide before us

Lonely as a poet's vision,

Gentle hands and airy pinions

Beacon us to fields Elysian:—
Fields that in strange beauty lie
Golden, 'neath a midnight sky;
And our airy footsteps glide
By some glassy river's side
Fair as fabled founts that rise
in the vales of Paradise ;-
But their waters rise and fall
Soft and still and silent all-
Not a ripple, not a splash,
Where the phantom-waters dash ;--
Not a whisper, not a sound,
Thrills the breathless region round.

Phantoms of the long departed

Rise before us as we roam; The beloved, the gentle-hearted,

That have left their earthly home: Some with meek and starry eyes Gazing downward from the skies, Others wearing beauty's bloom

Clasp us in their cold embrace; Some uprising from the tomb,

Oh how sad each altered face!
Joys that in their angel-birth
Fled afar, a shadowy band,
Never more to visit earth,

Greet us in that mystic land.
Hopes in sunny brightness ranging,
Dreaming ne'er of chill or changing;
Promises our paths illuming,
Love in its own light consuming,
Idols far too dearly cherished-

Some in hope, and some in fearFrom our stricken hearts that perished,

All are here-all are here! Wearing still each beauty's trace Though amid a phantom race.

In the distance far away

Lie the caverns of unrest, 'Mid whose gloom forever wander Shapes of fear and forms unblest, That rise and flit and wander by

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"Come to breakfast," said Mrs. Steinbach, on New Year's morning, to her household, as they sat in the large stove-room.

They all rose and went into the kitchen, where the table was spread with an abundance of good things. When they had taken their places, one chair was observed to be empty.

"Where is Lizzy, that she don't come to breakfast?" inquired the good housewife.

"I don't know," said Mr. Steinbach, "I have not seen her this morning."

"Why, can it be that she is in bed yet? Jo, do you go up and tell your sister to come to breakfast."

Jo rose at his mother's bidding, and went up stairs to Lizzy's room, while the rest began to eat. In three or four minutes Jo returned and reported that Lizzy was not in her chamber.

Why, where can she be ?" asked the old lady, "Have none of you seen her this morning?"

All gave the negative answer. Jo, being the youngest, was sent a second time in search of his sister he was told to look in all the rooms. He returned in six minutes, saying that she could not be in the house, for he had looked into every

room.

"Well, this is strange," said the mother. "Did she return with you last night from Major Hollman's ?" said she, turning to her elder son George, who had heen keeping New Year's eve with his sister at the Major's.

"Yes," said George; "she came back with us

about midnight, and said she would go straight to rough overhauling. Then, if need be, we will bed, as she felt rather unwell." search the out-houses completely. In some of "She is perhaps at the barn, attending to the these ways we must find what has become of cows," said Mr. Steinbach.

"She is not there," said Molly Koontz, a hired girl: "I came in from milking there just before breakfast was ready, and I am sure she was not in the barn, except she hid herself in the haymow, and that can hardly be, I reckon."

"I reckon so too," said the now anxious mother; "Maybe you did not look well when you went to her room, Jo. Did you go to her bed?"

"Yes, mother, I went close to it; the bed had nobody in it, I am sure, for it was not tumbled; if she slept in it last night, she must have made it up this morning."

her."

So said, so done, all performed their parts with the utmost diligence and care; and all was done that was proposed to be done-but all in vain. Not a trace of the lost Elizabeth was discovered. Not a place where it was thought possible that she could be hidden, cscaped their search-even the clay oven in the yard-even the pig-sty. They found every thing but Elizabeth. Now they were dreadfully alarmed and at their wits' end.

Though it be impossible for a creature of flesh and blood to walk over snowy ground without making tracks, and about equally impossible for a huThe old people, and indeed all the company, began man biped to fly through the air like a bird; yet not to feel no little uneasiness about the missing mem-knowing what else to do, Mr. Steinbach and his ber of the family. Hastily finishing their break- men next went to their near neighbors, all around, fast, they all rose and commenced a general search. to inquire for the lost one. Hearing nothing of Cellar, rooms, closets, garret, barn and other out- her, he accepted the aid of several friends to renew houses were thoroughly examined; but all in vain. and extend the search. The afternoon and evening Elizabeth, the flower of the family, in the bloom of were spent in a renewed rummage of the house youth and beauty--good, intelligent, and for a coun- and every hollow that it contained, and every hole try girl unusually accomplished--was not to be and corner out and about, and in visiting every found-not a trace of her could be discovered. house within three miles of the place. When When it was suggested that she might have gone darkness came and another snow began to fall, they early to a neighbor's house-perhaps to Major Holl- gave up the search in despair. They could almost man's, a mile distant--the road and the grounds on as easily imagine her to have been melted into a vaevery side were diligently searched, but no footstep por, as to conceive what could have become of her of man or beast in the new-fallen snow indicated for even the small river had been searched for two the possibility of her having left the house; and miles, especially the few deep holes in its channel: this examination was perfectly decisive of the ques- so that no specious conjecture could be made about tion of her elopement: for when the young people her mysterious evanishment. In perplexity and returned from Major Hollman's at midnight, a despair, all sat down at last in the large stove-room; shower of snow had fallen and continued to fall for the father groaned, the mother wept, the brothers a quarter of an hour afterwards and then ceased; George and Jo both groaned and wept the neighso that any track of man or horse leaving the house bors were sad, especially the young men, who all after their arrival would be infallibly visible in the admired Lizzy as the belle of the country. Many morning. No tracks appeared but those made by were the expressions of sorrowful amazement which the party returning home. The road fifty yards fell alternately from the lips of all at this unaccountdistant on the one side, and the river bank fifty able event. They sadly discussed the possibilities yards distant on the other side, both above and be- of the case; one making this supposition, another low the house, were closely scrutinized; but the that, and others pointing out the apparent impossiuntrodden snow that lay four inches deep, gave no bilities of all the suppositions that were or could sign of a passenger having left the house since be made until bed time approached. Then most midnight, except the milk-maid and the horse boy, of the neighbors went to their respective homes, who had gone to the barn before breakfast and re- promising to return the next day, and do what could be done to aid in solving the mystery.

turned.

After the first examination was over, the anxious father said

The next day was spent by more than a hundred people, in searching both land and water, houses "George, do you and Jesse Ballentyne go, the and grounds, and in spreading inquiries through the one up the road and the other down, at least a country; but another night came, with no other requarter of a mile, and then strike off through the sult than increased wonder and absolute despair from fields, keeping about the same distance from the the absence of all traces of the lost Elizabeth. The house, until you meet at the Grove Spring-I and only facts that came to light afforded no clue to any Sam Bolen will take horses and examine the river useful discovery. These facts were, that some of banks and the Horse-shoe field, to see whether her winter clothes, and it was suspected some bedpossibly she may have gone out that way. Mean- clothes also, were missing. Yet such was the conwhile Jo and the women will give the house a tho- fusion in which things had been thrown during the

repeated rummagings, and such the doubtful char- [It was well for her that novels and magazine literacter of several of the rummagers on this second ature-I mean the light fashionable sort of these day, and such too the vast quantities of clothing and days-were then rare, especially in Shenandoah. bed furniture in this rich house of industry, that it was hard to tell what was or was not missing, and how or by whom anything might have been taken away.

CHAPTER II.

THE FAMILY AND THE LOVERS.

We shall now give some account of the family in which this mysterious event happened.

All that she could get in a year, would scarcely keep a young lady of these days employed for a fortnight. Had she been crammed with the cheap literature of our times, the vigor of her mind and the usefulness of her life would have been ruined; as it was, they were only injured. But we need not dilate on her habits and character: our story turns Dot upon character, but upon a single mysterious event in her history-that is, her disappearance from the house on a winter night, without leaving a trace behind. In reference to this, it is sufficient to have said thus much of her person, her education, and her romantic turn of mind.

Benjamin Steinbach was of a respectable family in Pennsylvania-German, as the name imports, and devoted to agriculture, like most of the Penn- Her father being one of the wealthiest men of sylvanian Germans. When a young man, he visited the country, and Elizabeth, if not the handsomest some relations in Shenandoah county, Virginia, of all, yet upon the whole the finest and most three or four years after the close of the revolu- charming girl of the neighborhood, she was of tionary war. During this visit he fell in with, and course an object of distinguished attention to all fell in love with Rebecca Hollman, a young woman the young men around, who could aspire to the of much beauty and no small fortune. He married honor of her hand. But although she had offers her, and settled on a part of her father's broad from the wealthy, the handsome, and the well-edclands, where he cultivated the soil with success; cated, none of those who visited her father's house built himself a large barn and a good house; and as wooers, succeeded in gaining her affections, in a course of years, found himself with a family though she had reached the age of twenty-one, and of five children, only three of whom were living at had been courted at least fifty times in the last five the date of our story. His wealth increased so much, that at this time he was able to do what most German American farmers esteem the highest object of their industry, that is, to give each of his children a good farm.

years.

The cause of her obduracy towards others, was an early attachment that she had formed immediately after she had first read a novel, for a bandsome youth who lived as a hireling in her father's His daughter Elizabeth, next in age to George, family. He was the Jesse Ballentyne whose name before mentioned, grew up a grey-eyed beauty, has been mentioned in the first chapter. He was with flaxen hair, a middle-sized, but well rounded two years older than herself, and was not only tall person, and a vigorous mind. She had neither the and well-favored, but was in fact a young man of advantage nor the disadvantage of a boarding- extraordinary merits, considering his origin and conschool education; but she had a turn for literature, nections. He loved Elizabeth from his boyhood. and made the best use of a good English school, to and his love for her not only saved him from the which her father sent her as long as she could profit vices into which others in his circumstances often by it. Her mother-a true German mother she was fall, but inspired him with such a desire for self-im-taught her all manner of household work. By the provement that he might be thought worthy of her, time she was fully grown, she thus came to be both intelligent and industrious—not a fine lady, by any means, but a fine girl, qualified to be both useful and agreeable. She could neither dance nor play on the piano; but she could cook a good dinner, and make good garments out of wool and flax, by regular processes of spinning and weaving, cutting and sewing all which were signs of comfort and prosperity to her future husband.

:

as made him at twenty years of age a favorite with the whole family, and a wonder to all who compar ed him with his kindred. He was now emboldened by the evident partiality of Elizabeth's parents to declare to them his love for her, and to ask their permission to marry her. When Mr. Steinbach found that the young people were mutually attached, he was sorely grieved. On the one hand, be esteemed Jesse Ballentyne as one of the most i But she had by accident fallen into one ill habit, dustrious, skillful, upright, intelligent and altogether when she was only fifteen years of age-and that excellent young men in the world. He believed was the ill habit of reading sentimental novels, and in his heart that Jesse was intrinsically the most as a consequence, of idle reverie, low-spirits and worthy suitor Elizabeth ever had; but then, on the love of solitude. Yet these came on her at inter- other hand, Jesse was of a low and infamous family vals only; when in company she was cheerful-at Old Tom Ballentyne had been a tenant on a corner times witty and mirthful-and always was, when of his farm, where he brought up a family of seven she chose, fascinating in manners and conversation. sons and three daughters to idleness and vice, ex

cept Jesse, the youngest, whose conduct, when a successful at the bar, for want of learning and talboy of twelve years old, showed such a contrast to ents, did as many a pettifogger has done since; he the rest of the family, that Mr. Steinbach took him turned politician. He had a smooth and voluble into his own house, sent him to school with his tongue, an impudence which nothing could daunt, own children, and saw with pleasure the boy's and a crafty spirit of lying and temporizing; all growth into a young man of fine person and char- which fitted him to be a demagogue of no mean abiliacter. The rest of the family became such a pest ties. He knew how to take advantage of every to the farm and neighborhood, that he finally drove prejudice and every jealousy and secret grudge, them away. They did not go many miles, how-existing in town and country among rival families, ever, but squatted in a nook of the neighboring different interests and opposing classes of society. mountains, where they grew worse and more infa- By working upon these, he soon got a strong parmous, as Jesse grew better and more respected. ty in his favor. Many who secretly despised him, Now supposing Mr. Steinbach indifferent to nevertheless sustained him, because he aided them wealth in marrying his daughter, he could not be indifferent to the character of the family into which she married, especially when they were not only mean in station, but detestable in character, and a bye-word in the neighborhood for all that is wicked and contemptible. But Mr. Steinbach had another motive for objecting to the match. He was desirous of elevating the rank of his family, and had seen with pleasure that Elizabeth was admired by gentlemen of the town, doctors, lawyers and politicians; and he cherished hopes of seeing her married to one of these.

For these reasons he decidedly, though gently, refused to let Ballentyne marry his daughter. He hoped his refusal would induce the young people to give up their attachment. He pointed out to Elizabeth the imprudence of marrying a person of such low origin and connections, when she could by waiting awhile probably form an honorable match with one of the distinguished young men of the county.

in gratifying their resentments, or forwarding their schemes of self-interest and self-promotion. After laboring two or three years in his political vocation, he succeeded in getting himself elected to the legislature, and was by many esteemed a great man and likely to rise to the highest honors.

In the course of his electioneering perambulations, Lawyer Blarney, being yet a bachelor, became acquainted with Elizabeth Steinbach, and forthwith began to make signs of becoming a suitor for her hand. True, he was making similar signs to twenty other daughters of influential families; but after due investigation and a year's delay, when he was now a legislator elect, and in need of a wealthy wife, the decision of his calculating mind was, that of all the girls in the county, Elizabeth would be to him the most productive wife-her fortune would be large and the influence of her family considerable. Therefore he made a declaration of love to Elizabeth, and without waiting for a favorable answer, he applied to the father for permission to make her an offer of marriage.

Elizabeth was convinced but not persuaded. Her love for Ballentyne had grown up in her heart from Mr. Steinbach was flattered by this application. year to year, and being coupled with a well-founded Blarney was indeed rather dwarfish in stature, and esteem for his character, was now too firmly root- sallow in complexion, and coxcombical in dress and ed to be torn up by such reasons as her father pre-manners-but then he was a rising politician, and sented, strong though they were. She felt too a romantic fancy for acting the heroine on this occasion, and sacrificing every thing for love.

Ballentyne was equally unable to give up his passion for Elizabeth. He admitted the reasonableness of Mr. Steinbach's refusal-knowing and feeling deeply, himself, the ill conduct of his family, and the disgrace of being connected with them. But of what avail is cold reason, when the heart is in a flame of love? He and Elizabeth agreed to suspend their scheme of marriage-love in seeret-and wait for some favorable turn of affairs, that might ultimately realize their wishes.

considered by the majority a great patriot and a great man. Therefore Mr. Steinbach promptly smiled upon him, when he declared his passion for Elizabeth, and told him to go and prosper in his suit.

Now an accident happened, the very next day, which led to Jesse's banishment from Mr. Steinbach's house. It was Sunday, and the family attended church, some three miles upon the opposite side of the river. A heavy rain had swollen the river before they returned, and in fording the now rapid current, Elizabeth's horse tripped and threw her off. She was carried rapidly down into deep As they now took pains to conceal their love, water, where she sank. Jesse, who was riding the old people began to hope that they had con- a few yards behind her, with great presence of cluded to drop their matrimonial scheme, and to let mind drove his horse after her into deep water, and their attachment die off by degrees. They con- fortunately caught her as she rose to the surface. tinued to hope this of the young people for a whole He drew her along at arm's length, as the horse year, when a new event brought on a discovery made for the shore. She appeared to be lifeless; and a catastrophe. but by his skillful management she recovered, and Lawyer Blarney, of Woodstock, being rather un- by the next day she was quite well. All admitted

VOL. XIV-62

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