{"newspaper_name": "The Columbian fountain.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 3528, "word_count": 606, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9491000175476074], "ccnet_perplexity": [1607.300048828125], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
9as4#a1 Et,t CONTINUED. laa29h ,s,a'nfas


She had been a strange child. There


was tipge oflhoughtful melancholy which,


even in girlhood, |, fingered around her coun-


tenance, like the chilly umDra that pre-en-


yelops the dsun the hour previous, ito its


eclipse, and yet Julie Courtland had never


heard the wondrous story of her destiny


Perhaps twas pity that had withheld off


cious tongues from casting the dalnning
blight Of pres'cience on her young spirits
JOY; for who could gaze upon that calm and
beautiful face, whose melancholy only


seemed to tenhance her spiritual loveliness


AS clouds lingering around the suns


western couch--nor feel an inexplicabIe in
terest in the young girls fate an interest
that forbade the idle babbling Of her youth
ful doom. She had never heard the wild
legend, but the departed spirit other ances-
tor, in the deep watches of the night when
the body hath huggedits shroud Of sleep
when the soul doth fling itself, like an an
ruddered bark, upon the wide, trackless
ocean Of infnity, roaming to viewess ciiines
deep buried in fancy's womb---had not con-
veyed the Intelligence to her wandering spi-
rlt; and the dim, shadowy, spirituaTrecoI-
lection cast on her brow the shade of sad
ness ?7a cannot tell" 1t might have been
so; and yet she was not gloomy no !!


Y on loved to sit by her, and listen to the.
soft tones of her gentle voice: it made your.
spirit glad, they sunk so like the first soft
notes ofthe nightingale, mingled with the
low murmur of the moonlit brook---you
could not help from loving them, and even
if she were silent, you remained still by her
side, watching with earnestness the varyings
OF her countenance, that answered to her
thoughts; now touched with wild sadness
now lit up with strange, fervent animation
land now fixed, as though for an instant
upon anfiight to another world, her spirit
had taken wing-and now returned burden
ed with a sweet smile, just stolen from a
dreaming angel, to wreath her parted lips.
And she was young-at least in years-tor
her thoughts had the maturity which sat


wondrously strange upon a form SO youth
fol, so foil of simple grace. Why need /
describe her Hath not each heart It's
standard of beauty !, lD- .. .." . ''.-@ ',"
When, in its visions of love and purity,
the creation of a warm, glowing imagina-
ton haunts like a phantom life's dreamy
youth, and towards which the feelings
yearn with vain hope to behold the phan-
tom incarnate-to see realized those soul
born dreams incipent in a purer world than
this, but which hover like guardian angels
around humanity, to keep pure and in act
from the dull contact Of earth the restless
spirits of human beings. And he who
hath beheld this ideal beauty suddenly
burst into life-becoming embodied, as if
the shade had condensed into amin al sub
in mute astonishment upon
the lovely being, and feels his soul Ieaping
up in enthusiastic alteration to offer its
humble, undivided worship at the spirits
shrine. He hath filled that longing void
within his breast--that closed portal of his
heart, like a damp and vaporsus dungeon,
hath suddenly been swung back on its crea-
king hinges, and the pure, life-givIng rays
have burst into its hitherto closed lecesses,
waking to life the dormant germs of love
and hope, that spring up now ternally
bearing flowers of unearthly beauty, whose
aroma, like distilled ambrosia, doth kill the
nosome poison Of despair, and lull the
tranced soul into "dreams elysian.,n For
myself, that void hath no, been filled. Once,