The brother clerks : $b a tale of New-OrleansTownsend, Mary Ashley
General
The brother clerks : $b a tale of New-Orleans
Townsend, Mary Ashley
New Orleans (La.) -- Fiction
Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Sjaani and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
(This file was produced from images produced by the Wright
American Fiction Project.)
THE
BROTHER CLERKS;
A TALE OF NEW-ORLEANS.
BY XARIFFA.
NEW-YORK:
DERBY & JACKSON, 119 NASSAU-STREET.
1857.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857,
BY DERBY & JACKSON,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for
Southern District of New-York.
THE BROTHER CLERKS.
CHAPTER I.
There, stranger lips shall give the greeting,
There, stranger eyes shall mark the meeting;
While the bosom, sad and lone,
Turns its heavy heart-beats home.
A September sun was casting its parting rays far over the dull waters of
the Mississippi, as a steamer, with steady course, ploughed her way
through the thick waves and "rounded to" at the thronged and busy wharf
of New Orleans.
Upon her deck, apart from all other passengers, stood two youths gazing
with anxious eyes on the vast city spread out before them. The taller
and elder of the two, bore upon his brow the flush of his twentieth
summer. His figure seemed already to have gained its full proportions,
and in his carriage and tone of voice there was all the pliant grace of
youth, combined with manhood's strength and ease. His hair was of that
purplish black so rarely seen save in the raven's wing, or the exquisite
portraits of the old masters. The full broad forehead, shadowed by its
dark locks, the clear black eye, the hue of health upon the check, and
the smile upon the red lips as they parted over the snowy teeth, formed
a picture of fresh and manly beauty over which the wing of this wicked
world had as yet never hung darkly.
The younger was a mere boy; and stood beside his brother in that autumn
hour, like a pure memory of other days; so marked was his whole bearing
with that pureness of grace and refinement which circles some young
brows like a halo. His figure was slender and delicate as a girl's;
while his hair, almost golden in its hue, hung in curls about the
blue-veined temples, and a brow of solid and exquisite formation, such
as the lover of the intellectual delights to behold. His eyes were like
the blue which lies revealed when the storm ceases and the clouds part
in the sunshine; and the long lashes curled upon a cheek of almost
invariable whiteness. His nose was of a pure Grecian cast, his mouth one
of great expression and most beautifully cut. No one ever looked upon
that young face without turning to look again, and felt holier for the
gaze, in their hearts. Dear reader, do not imagine this an over-drawn
sketch from a romantic fancy. I have only too weakly delineated the
reality, as the portrait which hangs before me, looking down with its
golden-fringed blue eyes upon my task, can fully testify.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account