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Show fei m= | a en 1. No. A Weekly.] WESTERN NEW YEAR. ctl ee We give to thee the future ofaland Whose past was thrilled with aspirations grand. I see the lifted clouds of morning hang Above wide meadows where the free bird sang Perchance ten thousand years before they came, The mighty Pioneers, whose touch was flame - That brightens where it passes. There are walls Of hundred streeted cities where the calls Of Nature sounded in my childish days. And through these many changes I can trace, _ As sprang the genii from Aladdin’s lamp, A vast new life leap upward from the camp Wherein the stern dark-bearded men of old Endured great perils for the love of gold. Where once I heard the chorus of my dreams, The glad swift laughter of the mountain streams Down rocky canyons, I can hear the crash Of anvils, and the mill-wheel’s rapid dash. I hear the Iron hoof upon the trails Stamp out the past in thunder, see the bales ‘Of oriental silks and spices piled Where once the snake ore through: the grasses wild. Rae re There is enchantment in the wondrous change, Greater than magic and more strivings strange Than moved in demi-gods fhe Deer saw oo x P re hes K pe ae _ On attic shores before wrot : ; Literature, Lake ‘Oity, had bewitched her and infused into her thes a cS Ce i tpi i emt el ae nen rr Oe eee ee That new crusade, that more than argive host That moored its vessels by the Western coast, That swept the waste, and tore the hills apart And reft her treasures from the mountain’s heart. What dreams they dreamed upon the barren plains! What stars they followed masters of the trains! Those vanguards ofa world, a world more strong, A world more true, less servile to the wroug. What seemed a mirage of the desert then Was asa Who vision from the Lord to men wrought their dreams fulfilment, when they died, Great hearted pilgrims, with their arms ee. God grant that from their ashes there may rise The golden Phoenix.of a world where cries Of upright men for right and truth avail, Where stainless justice holds an equal scale, A world wherein the poor are filled with bread, Emery Co., Utah. — oe the Western Weekly. ] ii eee eas White Butterily. FROM 5 The THE death SPANISH OF JOSE BY J. M. R. SELGAS, of daa Baker weighed | ‘She did not distress her with continual sobs’ heavily on Bertha. those and around interminable tears, nor did she herald her grief by complaining words. On the contrary, however, she hid her sorrow in the depths of her heart; the fountains of grief were dried up; the sighs were smothered in her bosom; the tec arpa Ain me name of Adrian Baker was never heard 4 tL - Diep : i January epechedt the more > timid, and they £ final, the Weste: 1 f ous: shold, 3— ¢ $2.25 12, 1880. with staring eyes; the rays Year. deep silence. She left her chamber and groping her way as best she could, she proceeded to Bertha’s room. Gently opening the door which yielded to her first’ touch, she discerned a vague brightness, similar to the last splendor of twilight; it was the light of the night-lamp burning soitly in its porcelain globe, which fell upon uer eyes. . She glanced at the bed. At first she this time does not deceive me. Adrian Baker is coming—-yes, coming for me; the butterfly came to inform me—I am awaiting him.” The housekeeper looked at her a moment Per of the dying sun lighted up the face of Bertha in the most peculiar manner, and the poor woman, unable to bear the gaze that burned in Bertha’s eyes, lowered her headand crossed her hands, exclaiming in an undertone: ‘“Hather in Heaven! She has turned mad!” could distinguish nothing more than a shapeless object; but a moment after she discerned that the bed was deserted. She was about to catch up the night? lamp that burned in a corner of the room to light her way to the pavilion, when she felt a soft but sudden puff of wind, moist and cold, upon her cheek. She turned her eyes in the caircoeen whence the air came and observed that the window was open. On the outside The idea that Bertha had lost her reason drove the housekeeper half wild. She retreated to the most secret recesses of the house to weep. She felt that she could not bear the burden of so terrible a secret alone. Yet whom could she confide it to? To. tell the father that Bertha was mad would be. like giv- black obscurity of the ing him his death blow. The goud pressed the gentleman watched her with the most night. Possessed with indescribable amaze-affectionate eyes, but the very affection with which he regarded her had the ef- ment, and scascely believing the testimony of her own ore she saw what apfect. of blinding him to her, ee madness. “marvels” ‘ins helt Then flashed and faded in that mortal tide! Richardson, : . trust, A world wherein the women need not dread! Marton Murr RICHARDSON. tate Utah, Science be All this is theirs, their names endure today But only love keeps guard above their clay. What chivalry, what genius and what pride es and The father and nurse saw Bertha ting room, which was also used for a room. She _ searcely knew wasting away, saw her even dying, with- dining out being able to mitigate the tenacious whether to choose this or her own chamsorrow, silent and voiceless, which was ber, when. the idea occurred to her of slowly undermining her youthful life— placing it in alittle pavilion, covered and they cursed the name of Adrian with vines and honeysuckles, that was It was situated Baker; at the same time they would used as a conservatory. have- willingly died to bring him to life not far from the cottage in a corner of The idea was a happy one again. But death would not give up its the garden. prey, and there remained but one-hope and it made her smile on thinking of it. Accordingly, like a bird in its cage, the —the last hope—time. But time went on and the memory of piano was placed in the pavilion. The,fatigue of the journey must have Adrian Baker, like a subtle poison, conwearied Bertha, for she retired before tinued to feed on Bertha’s life. They did everything possible to ap- her accustomed hour. Did she sleep? pease her surrow; she was surrounded We do not know; but the singing of She with the charms of luxury; many suitors birds caused her to rise at dawn. bowed in homage before her; and youth, opened the Window shutters, when a beauty and fortune contended for the cloud of frightened songsters flew away prize of her affection; but her sorrow to hide themselves in the thick foliage of remained ever unabated. She s:.b- the garden trees, now lighted by the mitted meekly to all these tests; but it first rays of the sun. But some of the was not possible to wrest from her heart more daring soon returned to skip about the image.of Adrian Baker. Medicine before the balcony; they stared at Berwas appealed to, science attempted use- tha with real’ impudence as if they recless wonders, yet for. Bertha’s disease ognized in her an old acquaintance. | Some wheat and bread crumbs thrown there was no cure. The nurse believed that Adrian Baker -on the window jamb little by lttle at- Forsaken and forgotten: are ihey dust? xy eka Desaa i. =p emcee creo penne aires tN eaten ites ey7a inna ieee SOPOT News, “Ant on her lips. One would have. thought her easily consoled had there not been the shadow of intense sorrow in her looks; had not ‘-her pale vheeks spread a cee veil over her young beauty; had her faint voice not revealed ‘the deep loneliness of : her heart. Sometimes she would smile at her father, but in her smiles was a most bitter sweetness. She was wasting away like a light that is dying out; and _ jealous of her grief, she hid it in her own 7 heart as a sacred treasure. The father’s one thought was comprehended in these words: “He has go e and will take her—-in the end he will take her.” Yet one recourse remained to anneal to. Solitude, the country, nature, who knows! the sky, the sun and the air of the open country might reanimate her! the poetry of nature might arouse new sentiments and new hopes in her heart; the murmur of water, the song of birds, the shady woods—And what not? There is no human sorrow, however does not dwindle great, that before the grandeurs of heaven. Bertha’s father owned a little cottage, not far distant from the city, whose white walls and red roof could be plainly seen through the trees that surrounded it. Its situation was most picturesque. On the right wus the mountain, on the left the plain; the sea was in front, extending away into the distance till it was lost in the horizon; and in order that nothing might be lacking to complete the landscape, upon the brow of the mountain and in full view of the cottage, were the deserted ruins of an ancient monastery. The tout en- ing the night she ould approach er tha’s bed to see whether she was ‘sleep-| ing peacefully. There was no alteration. in Bertha’s action or words to indicate that her reason wandered. Yet she was end of a few days she had won some of expecting Adrian Baker and swore that The nurse sought to them to come in and go out of the room he would come. with perfect unconcern. They followed dissuade her from such folly, but in would either imher inher solitary walks through the vain, * “for ‘Berttra garden and along the avenue ef linden pose silence upon her nurse or else trees that led to the cottage, flying from smile with compassionate incredulity at Was not this tree to tree. Every morning she spent a the reasons she advanced. few hours in the pavilion, and here, also, madness? The housekeeper began to lose her the birds were in attendance, ming‘ling their cheerful chirpings with the appetite and she could not sleep at sad melodies of the piano. But the night. She shunned Bertha’s father so wild joy of the birds did not lessen Ber- she might feel more sure of keeping the confidence was « soon “recovered, and they would return anew to flit merrily about upon the iron bars of the balcony. Bertha could not help smiling whenever she looked at the birds, and at the tha’s sorrow; her thought was always the same: Adrian—Adrian Baker. This name, though it never passed her lips, was written everywhere by Bertha; on the garden walls, on the trunks of the trees; she had even intertwined the vines of the pavilion in such a manner secret she bore in her breast. Thesame, same thought kept ever turning in her brain. It really seemed that Bertha’s madness was going to destroy the reason of the nurse. One nightshe tossed about in bed unable to sleep; her imagination was haunted with frightful horrors. Amidst the darkness she could see faces that ‘ler Gat could oe sho. Wiel out but her Oyo was cited’ inrie throat; she wished to flee, and her feet, glued to the Led refused to follow her. With eyes starting from their sok, with mouth wide open and terror depicted in every feature, she stood as if petrified; powerless to support herself, and yet without the will to fall. And in truth there was every reason to: be terrified. _ She saw Bertha before her, immova- ble, resting aguinst the window and drinking in witi: absorbed attention the notes that were ai that moment issuing in a torrent from the piano. It was not Bertha then that broke the that one might read in them, “Adrian Baker.” This name was met everywhere, like the mute refrain of an ever- would approach her, and then, laughing and weeping, flee swiftly away. These recurring remembrance. During the morning hours Bertha’s would disappear only to be reproduced, face grew brighter and her cheeks, even, and, despite their grotesque features, semble was perfect. were wont to grow rosy. But as the they all bore a malicious resemblance to It was immaterial to Bertha whether afternoon wore on she would fade away the face of Adrian Baker. The nurse she lived in the city or the country, and as if the sun of her life were sinking | Wwas terrified. She closed her eyes, yet she could see them just as é plainly as be-to the plan of removing to the cottage into the decline of death. | she offered no resistance. She was perOne evening she was seated near the fore. Thinking she had the nightmare she sistent, however, in one’ thing—she window silently contemplating the would take the piano with her, asif it clouds so beautifully lighted up by the sat up in bed. Then she hearda farwere an intimate friend and only confi- parting rays of the sun. Jane was there away sound, a sweet and mysterious dant. So the family removed to the cot- also, and in an endeaver to interest Ber- music, whose notes would die away into tage. tha, she had vainly exhausted the whole silence. She listened intently a4 soon reaBertha wished to arrange the apart- |repertoire of her gossip. A sudden ment she was to occupy in the cottage gust hovered above Bertha’s head, ‘lized that the strains. were coming from herself. It was a single room with a traced like a flash a rapid circle in the the piano in the garden. She leaped out grated balcony on the garden,and served air, and disappeared, no one knows how. of bed exclaiming: “Bertha! Bertha!” atthe same time as boudoir and bed“You saw ‘it! exclaimed Bertha. She began hastily to dress herself, room. Over her bed she hung a beauti“Yes,” replied the nurse, “itis a white’ ful photograph containing a_ head of butterfly that wished to alight on see and, groping her way, she uttered in anguished voice: natural size. It was the head of Adrian head.” “Alone, in the pavilion—at such an Baker, with his pale, smooth brow, large | “Ts ita good sign?” she asked. My darling child, she is. blue eyes and yellow golden hair. It was “White butterflies,’ -the nurse ‘hour! mad!” : admirably photographed and she had answered, “are birds of ao omen; une All the apparitions she had. seen were colored it with her own hands. always carry good news.’ She saw nothing, she econ- now dissipated. “That’s true,” added beans Bertha could find no ‘place for the piano that suited her. Inthe cottage vulsively grasping the hand of her heard only the strains of the piano in breaking the otherwise there was but one general room, the sit- nurse. “It is my white butterfly and the distance A spmnons ~ To the chill waters of Columbia’s mouth, And they who Case ‘Salt Oh, young New Year, sealed with the mystic nine, The gathered riches of the past are thine! - Thy promise brightens broad by land and sea, May strength to right the wrong be born with thee. From the green vine leaves of the dreaming South 4 oe 19. [Written for the Western SSS AWW DS St £3 A Joumal Vol Fe ee eeiy Ny i BR NEST REN as silence of the night with that mysterious music. What unknown hand was touching the chords? Was what she saw real? Was what she heard true? Or was it alla terrible dream? And it was not this alone; these mysterious melodies kept rmging in the ears of the afflicted nurse with horrifying persistency. ‘The instrument resounded like a peal of thunder, smothered and profound; there were heard now nearer, now more distant, notes that : thrilled and strains that. terrified. It- seemed that all the spirits of the’ other world were speaking an unknown language through the tremulous strings. In herterror there is no. telling how long the housekeeper would have stood — mute and immovable had Bertha not observed her. It was no surprise to Bertha to see the | nurse standing there. She approached and took her hand, and shaking her softly, said: “Do you see him? Do you hear him? It is Adrian—Adrian, who comes to seek ae EL Dea oe not de/me. The ceived me.’ The Fs eset summoned courage sufficient to pass her hand over her forehead and rub her eyes. “JT knew that he would come,” continued Bertha, “and Ihave been oe him every day.” The nurse sighed anxiously, like |