Fostina Woodman, the Wonderful Adventurer | Page 2

the morning breeze. The dew lay heavily upon the earth, and
the thick foliage of the trees sparkled with the glittering dewdrops
bowing their branches beneath its weight.
Nought was heard save the gentle murmuring of the waters, which
flowed at the foot of the Mountain Glen. Sparkling streams pursued
their silent way, bordered by stately trees whose glittering foliage hung
heavy with the dew of the morning, and bent their graceful leaves to
meet the rippling wave which flowed beneath their branches. The lofty
oak rose in all its majesty, and spread its towering limbs around, as if to
protect the merry group which had collected under its shade, to inhale
the fresh breeze of the morning.
A short distance from the mountain, on the western side, there was

erected a magnificent dwelling, called the Cottage of the Mountain
Glen. Beautiful and romantic was this place, to a lover of nature, as he
stood upon the lofty hills, and could see the blue wreath curling up
from the white cottage, nearly hidden from view by the thick foliage of
the trees which surround it.
On approaching nearer this lovely spot, could be seen a winding
pathway, overhung with the branches of the willow, which grew on
either side, leading from the cottage to the mountain. Still further on
could be seen the cultivated gardens, forming a striking contrast with
the waving groves around, and rendered still more beautiful by the lofty
hills and mountains which overlooked the valleys below.
The arrangement of the grounds and the architecture of the buildings,
all exhibited evidences of the superior taste of the owner. And when
standing on the rising eminence, and gazing upon the beauties of this
romantic place, we could but think that it was indeed the abode of
happiness; and surely it was so, for here resided the beautiful heroine of
my story, whom I will introduce to you as Fostina Woodman, one who
was destined to become the wonder and admiration of all that knew her.
Here, in the cottage of the Mountain Glen, dwelt this lovely maiden, in
quiet and peaceful seclusion, with her father, three brothers, and an
elderly aunt, who, for many years, had been an inmate of the family.
Mrs. Woodman, one of the loveliest of women, beloved by all that
knew her for her mildness and amiable disposition, had died after a
long illness, leaving Fostina, her only daughter, when but five years old,
to the care of her sister, who then took charge of the family.
Mr. Woodman had, in his early life, been a tradesman, possessing some
property left him by his father; he invested the amount in goods, and
prosperity crowned his efforts with success beyond his greatest
expectations. He continued in his business until he had accumulated
what he thought necessary to complete his happiness, and then returned
to his native village, where he offered his hand and fortune to Fostina
Aubrey, the daughter of an honest gardener, who consented to their
union.

Accompanied by his youthful bride, Mr. Woodman started for the far
west, to seek out a home for himself and loving wife in some secluded
vale, where, in peace and quietness, he might pass the remainder of his
days.
After travelling a great distance from the land of his nativity, he arrived
at the village of S----, where he stopped to survey the surrounding
country. On one side it was rough and mountainous, solitary and wild,
while, on the opposite, could be seen cultivated fields beautifully
variegated with cottages and waving forests. Still farther on, he beheld
a lofty mountain about a mile from the village, which it overlooked,
together with an extensive range of country, presenting a variety of
beautiful scenery. Here he selected a place to erect his dwelling, and
called it the Mountain Glen, where, for many years, he lived in
possession of health and happiness. But alas,
When in the midst of happiness, How oft doth sorrow come!
Consumption, that awful syren, had entered the joyous home of Mr.
Woodman, and marked his lovely wife for its prey; and although many
years elapsed before it effected its work, yet he well knew what would
be the result.
Pain and distress had wrecked her feeble frame, and dimmed the lustre
of her once sparkling eyes; her step was feeble, her voice grew weak,
and soon her gentle spirit took its flight to a fairer and brighter world,
leaving to her bereaved husband four children, the youngest their only
daughter. With joy the father saw that she partook in a great degree of
her mother's gentle spirit. This gave hope and consolation to the now
almost heart-broken parent, who, as he looked upon his child, saw the
perfect resemblance of her departed mother.
On the death of