Town and Country; Or, Life at Home and Abroad Part 3

With many sincere thanks, Julia left the room; her heart overflowed with grat.i.tude to the Giver of all things. She saw his hand and felt his presence.

It was well that Mr. Legrange was about to leave the city, as Mr.

Lang's examination was to be had the next day, and Mrs. Lang and her daughter confidently expected he would be acquitted.

The morrow came; the examination began and terminated as they had expected. William Bang was remanded back to prison to await his trial for robbery. Mr. Lang was acquitted, and, joining a company of friends whom Julia had collected, left for the residence of his family.

What a meeting was that! Angels could but weep for joy at such a scene, and drop their golden harps to wipe away their tears of gladness. Long had been their separation. What scenes had the interval disclosed! And how changed were all things! She was in health when he left, but now in sickness; yet it was not strange.

That day was the happiest he had spent for many months, and he rejoiced that an angel of light, his daughter, had sought him out.

She had been, indeed, a ministering spirit of good to him, and in the happy scene then around her she found her reward,--O, how abundant!

With a light and joyous step did Henry Lang repair to the store of Mr. Legrange. The sun's rays were just peering over the house-tops, and he thought that he, like that sun, was just rising from degradation to a.s.sume new life, and put forth new energy.

We need not lengthen out our the by narrating what there ensued. He that day commenced his clerkship, and to this day holds it. He often received liberal donations from his employer in token of his regard for him, and by way of encouraging him in his attempts to regain his lost fortune.

It was on a December evening that a family circle had gathered around their fireside. The wild wind whistled furiously around, and many a poor wight lamented the hard fate that led him abroad to battle the storm. "Two years ago this night," said the man, "where was I? In an obscure house, planning out a way to injure a fellow-man! Yea, would you believe it? the very man who has since been my benefactor,--my employer!"

The door-bell rang, and the conversation was abruptly terminated.

In a few minutes none other than Mr. Legrange entered; he received a hearty welcome, and was soon engaged in conversation.

"Mr. Lang," said he, as he was about to depart, "your daughter remembers receiving an anonymous letter signed 'Charles B--.' I do not say it to please my own vanity, but I ordered my clerk to write it, and sent it by my son. I thought of you when you little thought you had a friend on earth who cared for you, and rejoice that I have been the humble instrument in effecting your reformation."

"Here," he continued, handing him a paper, "this is the deed of a house on--street, valued at eight thousand dollars; accept it as a present from me to you and your family, and remember this, that a kind word is of more value than gold or precious stones. It was that which saved you, and by that you may save others. Good-evening; I will see you at the store tomorrow."

Having said this, he left, waiting not to receive the thanks that grateful hearts desired to render him.

And now, reader, our story is ended. If you have followed us thus far, neglect not to receive what we have faintly endeavored to inculcate; and ever remember, while treading life's th.o.r.n.y vale, that "a kind word is of more value than gold or precious stones."

THE LOVE OF ELINORE.

SHE stood beside the sea-sh.o.r.e weeping, While above her stars were keeping Vigils o'er the silent deep; While all others, wearied, slumbered, She the pa.s.sing moments numbered, She a faithful watch did keep.

Him she loved had long departed, And she wandered, broken-hearted, Breathing songs he loved to hear.

Friends did gather round to win her, But the thoughts that glowed within her Were to her most fond and dear.

In her hand she held bright flowers, Culled from Nature's fairest bowers; On her brow, from moor and heath, Bright green leaves and flowers did cl.u.s.ter, Borrowing resplendent l.u.s.tre From the eyes that shone beneath.

Rose the whisper, "She is crazy,"

When she plucked the blooming daisy, Braiding it within her hair; But they knew not, what of gladness Mingled with her notes of sadness, As she laid it gently there.

For her loved one, ere he started, While she still was happy-hearted, Clipped a daisy from its stem, Placed it in her hair, and told her, Till again he should behold her, That should be her diadem.

At the sea-side she was roaming, When the waves were madly foaming, And when all was calm and mild, Singing songs,--she thought he listened,-- And each dancing wave that glistened Loved she as a little child.

For she thought, in every motion Of the ceaseless, moving ocean, She could see a friendly hand Stretched towards the sh.o.r.e imploring, Where she stood, like one adoring, Beckoning to a better land.

When the sun was brightly shining, When the daylight was declining, On the sh.o.r.e she'd watch and wait, Like an angel, heaven-descending, 'Mid the ranks of mortals wending, Searching for a missing mate.

Years pa.s.sed on, and when the morning Of a summer's day gave warning Of the sweets it held in store, By the dancing waves surrounded, Like a fairy one she bounded To her lover's arms once more.

Villagers thus tell the story, And they say a light of glory Hovereth above the spot Where for days and years she waited, With a love all unabated, And a faith that faltered not.

There's a stone that is uplifted, Where the wild sea-flowers have drifted; Fonder words no stone o'er bore; And the waves come up to greet them, Seeming often to repeat them, While afar their echoes roar- "DEATHLESS LOVE OF ELINORE."

'TIS SWEET TO BE REMEMBERED.

'T IS sweet to be remembered In the turmoil of this life, While toiling up its pathway, While mingling in its strife, While wandering o'er earth's borders, Or sailing o'er its sea,-- 'T is sweet to be remembered Wherever we may be.

What though our path be rugged, Though clouded be our sky, And none we love and cherish, No friendly one is nigh, To cheer us in our sorrow, Or share with us our lot,-- 'T is sweet to be remembered, To know we're not forgot.

When those we love are absent From our hearth-stone and our side, With joy we learn that pleasure And peace with them abide; And that, although we're absent, We're thought of day by day;-- 'T is sweet to be remembered By those who are away.

When all our toils are ended, The conflict all is done, And peace, in sweetest accents, Proclaims the victory won; When hushed is all the tumult, When calmed is all the strife, And we, in patience, meekly Await the end of life: Then they who, when not present, In spirit yet were near, And, as we toiled and struggled, Did whisper in our ear, "'Tis sweet to be remembered, And thou art not forgot,"

If fortune smile upon us, Shall share our happy lot.

I CALL THEE MINE.

YES, ever such I'll call thee, will ever call thee mine, And with the love I bear thee a wreath of poesy twine; And when the stars are shining in their bright home of blue, Gazing on them, thou mayest know that I like them are true.

Forget thee! no, O, never! thy heart and mine are one.

How can the man who sees its light forget the noonday sun?

Or he who feels its genial warmth forget the orb above; Or, feeling sweet affection's power, its source-another's love?

Go, ask the child that sleepeth upon its mother's breast Whether it loves the pillow on which its head doth rest; Go, ask the weary mariner, when the dangerous voyage is o'er, Whether he loves the parent's smile that meets him at the door: But ask not if I love thee when I would call thee mine, For words are weak to tell thee all, and I the task resign; But send thy spirit out for love, and when it finds its goal, 'T will be encircled and embraced within my deepest soul.

THE OLD TREE AND ITS LESSON.