HUMAN HAPPINESS-ELLERY TRUMAN AND EMILY RAYMOND. From the Saturday Evening Post. HUMAN HAPPINESS. I asked a fair and a wayward child, And where his pleasure lay? Like things of life and light. He chased for hours an echo's sound, And strove to catch the gleam, The sun cast down in mockery Upon the polished stream. But tired and vexed, the child returned Unto its mother's breast; And sick at heart of all beside, He wept himself to rest. The boy grew up: I asked the man, Ere deep and scathing cares had come To damp his spirit's truth To tell me of his happiness, What were his pleasures then; Amongst his fellow men? He smiled and knelt before a shrine, Where beauty sat enthroned, And breathed with strong, impassioned vow, The thoughts his bosom owned. But still a darkling shade would flit Upon that brow, so fair- Time passed away: mid-age had come, The deeply furrow'd lines that pain I asked what were his idols then, If he had gained the sacred goal, In time's matured embrace? He answered not, but on his brow A low'ring tempest came; He sternly pointed to a scroll, That glowed with dazzling flame:- He fell:-the bright and starry place Still time passed on, and on his brow 541 ERRO. Written for the Casket. Ellery Truman and Emily Ray mond, OR THE SOLDIER'S TALE. "Hark! it is the bridegroom's voice, It was a fine morning of July, 1823; the air was cool and refreshing for the season; I was slowly and thoughtfully walking along the great road from Lancaster to Harrisburg. I had passed the summit of the mountain which rises from the Susquehanna below the mouth of Swatara, the old village of Middletown lay before me, and far to the southwest, west, and northwest, spread one of the finest landscapes in Pennsylvania, with a blue waving line of Kittatinny mountains, and a long bank of cumuli as back ground. To the mind which at a step over a mountain ridge is brought to the view of its native valley, after an absence of forty-two years, what crowded reflections rise! how are the senses overpowered! In that valley over which fleeces of mist still hovered, forty-eight years before I had seen the light of heaven on my infant eye. Withdrawn from the little circle of my childish rambles between six and seven, memory retained, and strongly retained the images of the few objects within that circle. Before me rose the cabin of my parents, the few farm houses I had visited, the meeting-house and grave-yard, and the old school-house, witli the still older John Hutchinson, who first taught me to read "Let no man put off the Law of God." All returned to my mental eye, and mingled with the features of the perspective before me, and threw a moonlight, a dreamy colouring, over the whole scene. My steps were at length entirely arrested, and, with my staff in hand, I stood entranced, muttering to myself, "How durable is nature! how changeful is man!" A slight rustle on my right hand recalled me from my reverie, and turning quickly towards the sound, met the eye of an aged man, who had been very attentively watching my abstraction. He was seated on a stone, at the root of a large tree, with some shrubbery around him, his budget was at his feet; and with both hands over a polished crabstick head, and leaning on his chin, his silver hair flowing round a face of uncommon expression. His still penetrating glance gave me some embarrassment, which he perceived and removed, as he observed, smiling"Stranger, you have found something very attractive in that landscape," pointing at the same time to the far north-east, up the valley of Swatara. The human eyes are the windows of the soul, philosophers and non-philosophers may say what they please to the contrary. We were acquain 542 ELLERY TRUMAN AND EMILY RAYMOND, tance, we were friends, the moment those words passed between us, and I replied, "The surface of that picture is fine, but to me there is a still finer ground beneath. I am returning to the place of my birth, on the banks of Swatara, after an absence of forty-two years." "Where, on those banks?" anxiously demanded the old soldier, for such he was. "Dixon's Ford, near Derry Meeting-house," I replied. Hè mused a moment, as he rose to his feet, and slung his knapsack over his shoulder, and then resumed, " It is something strange, I am returning to the same place, and for the same reason, in part, for there was 1 born also." I gazed intently on him, as he spoke, but he continued, "You cannot know aught of me, I am at least twenty years your elder, and have not resided there permanently since 1775." "The year of my birth," I exclaimed. To this unimportant observation he paid little attention, but as we involuntarily recommenced our walk, he continued, "We can be fellow travellers; we are returning to a secluded portion of our wide spread country, to a point from which have risen some spirits its too sublime for the world." "You speak warmly, my friend," I interrupted. "Seventy-one years have not frozen in my heart," he replied, with great energy, "either friendship or gratitude." "Pardon me," I replied, "your eyes too well confirm your words." He smiled, and replied, "It is of the dead I have spoken." The reader need not be fatigued with our day's walk, as we advanced along the fine little mountain river; every bank, hill, tree and farm, recalled to the old veteran some subject of recollection and supply to a rich, plain, but varied observation. In Hummelstown we took a hasty repast, and continued our walk. Leaving the main road, and traversing the cool and clear spring creek, it was on the decline of day before we reached Derry Meeting-house. All was still and calm round this, to us, venerable spot. We seemed to tread on sacred ground. In the adjacent grave-yard-the remains of a sister consecrated it to me-to my fellow traveller there seemed still more to strike the mind with awe. The meeting-house was shut, but we entered the repository of the departed, and were for some time silent. We paused over one stone and read Here lieth the remains of THE REVEREND WILLIAM BERTRAM, First Pastor of this congregation: Who departed this life Ye 3d of May, 1746. Aged 72 years. Several other stones spoke to us, but at length one enchained us both; but 1 was penetrated to the soul when my companion, with an expression, which, to be felt in all its force, must have been heard-"Truths, for once, on a tombstone." These truths were thus recorded : Beneath this stone Of an able, faithful, THE REVEREND JOHN ROAN, Pastor of Paxton, Derry, and Mountjoy Congregations, From the Year 1745 Till Oct. 3d, 1775. When he exchanged a Militant for A triumphant life, in the 59th year of his age. The attitude, age, and tears for I saw the drops follow each other down his furrowe. cheeks-kept me silent; but at length he fixed his eyes on mine, and solemnly observed, "Friend, for we are both old and may call each other so, are we not here now alone on the spot of our nativity? It is is here, ne indeed, in this yard, we are to meet our friends and acquaintances. What are the living beings along these banks to us The associations in our minds, what have they in common with the existing generation, nom moving over these hills and vales? To them we are as men of other times. The day is not so far closed, but we have yet an hour to spare. I know where to find quarters for the night. Wilt thou be seated, and hear an old soldier's tale?" As he spoke, he laid his hand on my shoulder; my looks bespoke not mere willingness to hear. but a powerful interest in his proposed tale, and we both sat down upon the slab which covered the remains of John Roan, and he commenced "It matters not to which of the beings I was related, who once lived and walked over these paths and fields, but who long have rested beneath these cold but speaking stones. I may only tell thee, that here repose almost every one who ever shared my blood. My parents found their pillow here, as did my brothers and sisters. and some others as dear to my remembrance as parents, brothers, or sisters. "In this remote region rose to life Robert Dixon, Lindley Murray, and Ellery Truman; here sprung up, as a flower transplanted from heaven, Emily Raymond; and I may add to this group, another of humbler growth, Wilson Bertram. "Robert Dixon, who fell far from here, fell in his country's cause, too soon for that country. His was one of those spirits which rise in flame to illume all around him; his mind scarce needed education; it caught, as if by inspiration, what ordinary minds have to buy from schools, and themselves never learn the value. Gentle as the summer breeze, in private life; but terrible as the whirlwind, in the day of danger. Tardy calculations were not necessary to Robert Dixon; he heard, he thought, and acted. The voice of his country called, and the answer was prompt. "Lindley Murray was a being of a different order; the closet was the theatre of his ambition, and to the closet he retired. From the knell of war and death, he shrunk with feelings as sublime as those which carried Dixon to the tented field. As the scowling tempest of the American revolutionary war was heard at a distance, its echoes reached the before peaceful banks of Swatara. Dixon and Murray followed the irresistible current of their souls. Dixon rushed to the battle field. Murray retired from the strife, not to do as many others did, join the standard of the ene. | lent, as obstacles to its current seemed to be mies of his country, but to join the Society of heaved from the depths of the earth; but it is at Friends, and pass calmly along the stream of such moments that the heart of man becomes life. "With those contrasted spirits another rose, of very different cast to either. The form of Robert Dixon was elegant, tall, and commanding; but seen to disadvantage in the presence of Ellery Truman. The countenance of Dixon was bland, that of Truman serious and rather reserved. It was seldom that two such men could be seen together, yet they were contrasts; and between them stood another, unlike either, and yet held them linked together. Wilson Bertram, with powers, bodily and mental, inferior to his two friends, but endowed with an inflexibility of purpose which swerved not. In youth and age Bertram was the same." [Here some overpowering thought seemed to come over the soul of the veteran-some strong emotion which shook his frame; but he soon recovered his composure, and resumed.] "Forgive me, my friend," he at length breathed, with much energy. "The last fifty years seem but a moment, and the sleeping dust appears, at some moments, to rise to life. 1 see Dixon and Truman, in all the pride of manly youth; the one smiling as the other frowned on the gathering storm, but with hearts equally stern to meet to foe; and I see". The aged soldier again paused, took off his hat with his left hand, and placed his right on his snowy head, demanding "do you see these blanched locks?" My heart was too full to answer, but my looks spoke for me, and he continued. "Seventy-one winters lie heavy on this head; but no length of years can remove from my heart the remembrance of Emily Raymond; she was the pride of Swatara, the spirit of its woods and fields. How often have I heard her angel voice rising to heaven in this spot! Yes, to heaven, no doubt, did her song rise, and mingle with the songs of kindred seraphs. Emily Raymond was made for heaven, and not for earth. From her fifteenth to eighteenth year was spent in Philadelphia, with a relation; and Emily returned to Derry in August, 1775. To see was to admire and love Emily Raymond. As on wider circles nature enforced her laws on the Swatara, and was obeyed by all those who had a heart not already filled by some other object; and thus stood Ellery Truman and Wilson Bertram. To these young men she had been, before her departure to Philadelphia, a sister; but that relation of calm affection, of happy friendship, was soon to be lost in that soul absorbing interest, which, happy for the world, few are capable of feeling to excess: but misery to the few that do, and are doomed to disappointment-the wounds admits of but one remedy. But I am wandering. "Need 1 repeat Emily was loved by both Truman and Bertram. It was the first secret that had ever existed between them, and dearly did each pay for want of confidence in the other. open to emotions of greatest intensity. Now all around were causes of excitement, even the most callous felt the flame; then no wonder that in such bosoms as those of Ellery Truman_and Wilson Bertram, the fire burned fiercely. Both these men had joined the army. Truman as a lieutenant in Captain Holt's company, and Bertram as a private; and both had taken stations a few weeks before the return of Emily from Philadelphia. "Emily herself gave a most striking example of a trait in the human character, w which has often become most str strikingly prominent where least expected. To look in her face, on her soft hazle eye, was to scan the dove; but the fire of patriotism burned beneath-spoke of the wrongs of her country, and not even the eye of Dixon or Truman could flash with more energy; and she was soon to find that her happiness was indeed staked in that cause for which daily orisons were breathed. "On yonder field we had mustered our company, and amongst the spectators to our awkward manœuvres was Emily Raymond; and after the exercise was over, Bertram escorted her home. Daily orders to march were expected; moments had become months, as events pressed upon events, and the timidity of Bertram yielded to the pressure. His resolution was something strengthened by the apparent gaiety of his companion, and the to him truly important secret was with some hesitation disclosed. The proposal was, in the first instance received with a hearty laugh, which was followed, as soon as the little tormentor could recover breath, by her exclaiming, 'Really, this is an honour too high for a poor country girl. Well 1 never could expect to be rival to the continental Congress! What a soldier! A general before long, no doubt.' And thus she rallied the rather embarrassed Bertram, who, however, soon recovered himself, and adopting her own tactics, making a low, continued ""And when a general, how proudly will my laurels be laid at the feet' ""Of your little sister Emily,' she interrupted, why General Bertram, for you may as well have the title at once, you will outdo Don Quixotte, by adding one peak more to chivalry.' "Bertram was really overpowered, and remained silent; but assumed a look which reached the heart of Emily, and changed her tone and manner, and in a very altered voice she continued "My brother, Wilson Bertram, for how often have I called you by this tender title. Is this a time to tear away the kind tie between us? I am an orphan,' and she burst into a flood of tears. ""Would to God,' passionately exclaimed Bertram, 'that you were my sister, if all hope of a dearer relation is lost.' "They then walked on in painful silence until near the house of her aunt, with whom Emily "The year of 1775, was indeed one of tumult and storm. New relations and passions were resided. The sun had set, and the deep shading roused into conflict. The ordinary course of hu- of night was approaching, when the pathway man life was disturbed; the stream became vio- | along the side of a lane, led them under a double 544 ELLERY TRUMAN AND EMILY RAYMOND, and wide spreading oak. Emily suddenly stop- | Emily Raymond, with a female friend, was ped, and looking earnestly into the face of her companion, observed, 'Wilson, under this tree was our little play house when children, and here you must know the truth-your friend.' standing between Truman and Bertram, Emily next to Truman. As the first clods fell on the coffin, from the assembled crowd was heard a general moan, and some wept aloud. My eye was on Emily; she wept not, but her face was ashy pale; and as the body of him, who had been to her more than a father, reached its last earth "Bertram felt stunned as if the tree had been rifted by the lightning blast, and remained a few moments silently and vacantly gazing on the distressed girl; but at length replied, Ellery Tru-ly place of rest, she heaved a most distressful man.' Emily replied not, and in the heart of Wilson a fierce but momentary resentment burned against the friend of his youth; but the precepts he had heard and imbibed on this spot silenced the foul fiend. 'Ought I, or can I be surprised, that Ellery Truman should love and be loved in turn?' mentally reflected Bertram, and falling on his knees, at the foot of the oak, breathed this short and fervent prayer:- May the God we have both adored protect thee, my sister.' He rose, pressed her to his bosom, and she retired to her home. "The inflexible character of Bertram, I have already sketched; a character which on this decisive evening produced resolutions never violated in his after life. 'If I cannot be the husband of Emily Raymond,' silently and alone reflected this young man, 'my life shall never be stained with an act to enkindle a blush on her cheek, if was se blessed.' "The battle of Lexington had roused, but that of Bunker's Hill had electrified the nation to its utmost frontier border. It was amid the agitations of public and private feelings, and whilst the ill-fated expedition of the continental troops into Canada was in preparation, that the explanation took place between Wilson Bertram and Er Emily mily Raymond. No other human being did mere within his sphere, to fan the patriotic flame, than did the man whose remains repose beneath this stone; and well was it said at the time, that the soul of John Roan carried the appeal of an injured people to the footstool of eternal justice and power. These sculptured figures tell the day when that soul was wafted from earth; and on that day well do I remember the stern eye of John Dixon, whose three sons had girded on the sword with a father's advice and benediction. They left their paternal home, the eldest never to return. This devoted family was but one, thousands followed the same impulse, and were preparing for the strife, when those who remained here were called to place in its earthly bed, the body of a man who, for thirty years, had been the spiritual father of three congregations. The old had become old with him, and the young had been raised under his pastoral care. "Ellery Truman had become a captain by the accidental death of his commander, near Lancaster. Called to make one on the solemn occasion, the brow of Captain Truman was marked by more than usual seriousness. Naturally reserved, his manner had become, if not stern, at least something harsh. The change was attributed, by those who observed it, to his own change of condition, and to the rude shock of the revolution; but one circumstance occurred at the funeral of Mr. Roan, which excited generalastonishment. When the coffin containing the body of their pastor was lowered into the grave, sigh, and staggered backwards. Had not Ber tram caught her in his arms she must have fallen, and borne down with her the weeping girl by her side. The face of Truman was even baggard, but he stood as a statue resting both his hands on the hilt of his sword. The eyes of the two young men met with mutual expression very different from what they ever exchanged before, as Bertram bore the helpless, trembling Emily from the scene. For months she was confined to a bed of sickness. All of her friends, but one, attributed her illness to the loss of her pastor: there was one, who divined the real cause, but the painful knowledge was buried in his own bosom. "Time, who halts not for the great or the little affairs of man, kept on his steady course. In the field, for daring, even desperate and reckless bravery, no other man was more distinguished than Ellery Truman, who, in the second campaign, was a major, and in the third a colonel Though bred in similar rank in life, common farmers, the fortunes of Truman and Bertram were indeed different. 'One bitter disappointment is enough,' said inwardly the common soldier, Bertram. Promotion lay in his way, but he spurned it, and remained a private soldier under the colours of the United States, forty-two years. From the day the grave beneath us closed, these two young men, once as brothers, were estranged and separated. Estranged! I am wrong:: Bertram felt the honours heaped on the head of Truman infinitely more than did the wearer; but he thought of Emily, and sighed over the ruined happiness of all. "Emily rose from her sick bed, a walking shade. The thunders of war from time to time, threw its murmurs to Swatara, as news reached there of the death or wounds of beloved relatives or friends. In the first campaign both Truman and Bertram were severely wounded. Truman was cut down by a British dragoon, with his scull fractured; Bertram was shot through the fleshy parts of both thighs, and as soon as his wounds permitted, was removed to the care of his friends in Derry, until again fit for active service. On his return, Bertram and Emily met indeed as brother and sister. The name of Truman never passed between them; it was carefully avoided, but bitterly remembered by both. "The dreadful winter of 1775-6 had set in with all its severity, and on one of the coldest days of that winter, the two invalids were joined with a social party at farmer Dixon's. There was a gravity imposed by the features of the times which forbid and repressed levity, but the spirits of the old host was more than at any former time of his life buoyant. He had a few days before received a letter from his son Robert, informing him that the continental army OR, THE SOLDIER'S TALE. had reached Quebec, was headed by the intrepid Richard Montgomery, and would ina few days be in possession of that city. The old man could talk of nothing else, nor was the repeated theme disagreeable to his family or guests. Holding the letter in his hand, and with a sparkling eye, he exclaimed, 'My son Robert will be'-but here the rapid tread of an advancing horse arrested him, and an entire stranger gallopped up to the door, and handed to the outstretched hand of the old man a letter. The black seal struck a damp on all the party, as Mr. Dixon unceremoniously sat down and opened the fearful packet. It was an envelop containing two letters-one directed to Mr. Dixon, and the other to Col. John Rogers. That to Rogers was laid on the table, and his own burst open. Every eye was on the reader, breath was almost suspended by anxiety; but they were roused to dreadful reality, as the old man threw himself violently backwards, screaming, 'My son! my son! my precious son!' "The whole company, in the utmost consternation crowded round the bereaved father. The letter contained the shocking intelligence that the gallant Dixon was no more; his leg had been carried away by a cannon ball, and next day he was sleeping on the bed of the braveon the same bed made classic by the names of fallen heroes, Wolf and Montcalm, and soon afterwards by that of Montgomery. "The groans of the father, and stifled sobs of the sisters, were awfully distressing; yet there was one who sat the picture of death, unmoved at the scene: that one was Emily Raymond, and amid this family distress there was another who regarded Emily alone. Though the young and brave martyr to his country was amongst the most beloved of men within the circle of his friends, Wilson Bertram forgot the departed soldier as he looked upon the death-like visage of her he never ceased to love. In the tumult and wretchedness around them, Bertram saw in the cold and motionless features of Emily, only the false covering to the concealed wounds now torn and bleeding-and he was not mistaken. "An hour of indescribable misery passed, when Mr. Dixon, in a most mournful voice, observed, pointing to the letter directed to Col. John Rogers, that it ought to be sent to him. That trouble was saved, as the person interested now made his appearance. 'Oh! our Robert,' sobbed the heart broken father, as he glanced over his weeping daughters, and wrung the hand of his neighbour, and handed him the letter. The expressive pressure was returned, but in silence; and Col. Rogers, sitting down by the fire, burst open his letter, and found within it, carefully enclosed between two slips of paper, a Jong thin slip of bone. Weall beheld the singular relic with a shudder, as it was laid on a table, and the reading of the letter commenced. Prepared as all present were for any circumstance dreadful, no anticipation of horror could foresee what followed. The quivering lip of the reader, and his frame became more and more agitated, until clasping his hand to his forehead, he exclaimed, Ellery Truman is mortally wounded, and this is one of his' ""Bones!' screeched Emily Raymond, in a 545 voice which pierced the very souls of all around her, as she frantically seized the mortal fragment, and thrust it into her bosom. Every other object was forgotten, as the distracted woman rushed from the house, and fied down the road with almost superhuman speed. She was followed, but reached the house of her aunt before overtaken. Happily the Swatara was frozen. as no doubt but that in her frenzy she would have plunged into the Susquehanna, if it had lain in her way. If war produces many evils, it compensates by some good; and giving coolness in unexpected calamity is not one of the least. Bertram had already learned something of this quality. Though far the most affected by the condition of Emily, he was much the most collected of those about her, and prevented her from being driven frantic by misguided attempts to wrest from her the fearful deposit. The suffering woman was by his interference left undisturbed, whilst every soothing care was taken; but she was in a state which set all human tenderness and skill at nought-except one, and that one had wrung her soul, and left her a ruin. Her bosom seemed a darkened vault, from which the light of consolation from heaven and earth was shut out. From this fatal day she walked an estranged being. She mingled not her inward feelings with those she once so dearly loved. She spake not, except in inaudible murmurs; yet she performed steadily all the ordinary duties of human life. The only one of her friends whose kind offices were returned by even a look of grateful recognition, Wilson Bertram, was soon to be separated from her, and compelled to return to the army. With a bleeding heart, but restored limb, Bertram was on the point of bidding adieu to Swatara, when a letter was received containing the very thrilling news, that contrary to the opinion of the most able surgeons, Ellery Truman was rapidly recovering. and out of all danger; had been promoted to the rank of major, in justice to his talents and established intrepidity and coolness. "A flood of hope and joy was now poured into the hearts of the friends of Emily Raymond, since it had become evident that the mental disorder which had clouded her reason was connected with the fate of Truman. The task of communicating to her, if possible, the change from death to life, was confided to Wilson Bertram. For even him to speak to her on the common occurrences, or the most momentous public events, was found totally fruitless, as no response, even by a look, could be obtained. In that meeting-house sea alone was her voice heard; but there it was truly heard, and sometimes to such effect as to melt every hearer. When the Psalın was given out, at first her tremulous tones rose broken, but as the divine song proceeded, her mind seemed to forget it yet tenanted a mortal body, and her notes attained a power, compass, and harmony, truly unearthly; and again with the close of the hymn, fell as if a liberated spirit was heard far in the distant heaven commencing the song of triumph. "It was a Sabbath evening, after return from meeting, that the attempt was made to convey the joyful tidings to the heart of Emily. The moments were precious-Bertram was the next |