Behind the Scenes.
marked to my mother. "I dun no whicl I like
best, you or Lizzie, as both are so dear to me."
My mother's name was Agnes, and my father
delighted to call me his " Little Lizzie." While
yet my father and mother were speaking hope¬
fully, joyfully of the future, Mr. Burwell came
to the cabin, with a letter in his hand. He was
a kind master in some things, and as gently as
possible informed my parents that they must
part; for in two hours my father must join his
master at Dinwiddie, and go with him to the
West, where he had determined to make his fu¬
ture home. The announcement fell upon the lit¬
tle circle in that rude-log cabin like a thunderbolt.
I can remember the scene as if it were but yes¬
terday ;—how my father cried out against the
cruel separation; his last kiss ; his wild straining
of my mother to his bosom ; the solemn prayer tc
Heaven; the tears and sobs—the fearful anguish
of broken hearts. The last kiss, the last good-
by; and he, my father, was gone, gone forever.