SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXVIII, NUMBER 4.2.] PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING Wiee in Ninlhern Central Railroad Ccm trany's Building, north-west corner Front and alnut streets. Terms of Subscription. one Copy per annum.i I paid to Onto tree, t' if not paid within three months from COMM elleellloll of the 3 ear, Cont.i rtt. Copy. No sult,eription receiVeil for a le-% time than :is tmontlts; and no paper will In• di-eoatiaued mot: all tarrearage, are paid, unle,b at the option of the it Ll 'tit•her. ID Money may be remitted by :nail at the publish 'er's risk. _ _ . . . Rates of Advertising. 1 square [0 lines] one week, $0 33 •• three ,V 1.11:,, 7.5 I, each -uti.equent insertion, 10 3. " [l3:ines] one week, 50 Three week., t MI it each ,uti.equeill 111 , ertiOn, 23 tamer advert' cementl ii proportion. A liberal dis.count will he triode to quartet ly, half yearly or yearlyttilvertiber , ,who are bitted) confined to their 1,11,111,4. DR. S. ARMOR, HOMOEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN, COLUMBIA, PA. Orrice AND Rail Dl:WE—Second Street, one door front nut. March 13, 1,56. THOMAS 'WELSH, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, Columbia, Pa. oFFicn, in Whypei'., New• Building, below Black', Hotel, From weet. fp — Prompt aucution given to ull business entrn,ted 40 Lls care. November QS, 15.17. DR. G. IV. MIFFLIN, DENTIST, Locust street, a few doors above the Odd Fellow o !lull, Columbia, Pa. Columbia, May J, 155 G. IL D.I. NORTH, A TTORNEY /IND COUNSELLOR AT LAW. Coluiniii a. 01111,C11011E, 1 ronipily inade, in Laiteakter thud York Coinitic•. ' Colombia. lrny 4,1850. J. FisnEß, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, Columbia, pci Columbia, r4.lavisibei 1., I <A34 t GEORGE J. SMITH, AV I I T , I k ,ESA c LE and r i , I en d ß l re it! r n k tte too nthonn•ro,n, in, 1111-11111,11; SOdJ. s'. nine. Scroll. anal no every nle-crantion4 &c., Lc 11)C1.:sT 1.:1:1'. Feb. 2,'56. Itetween the Dash and l'intaklan I loa-c. Cold Cream of Glycerine, Fott the Cure and Pre• tilt 11111 of Chap ped Halal, For lit Di tl It 111:1: It. Col.. Nov. 7, 1557. Galileo Morailr 1)11,7 Nolo , VISTAIt ' S OF 'WILD CHERRY, If for Cough., e . ibr -ale at & 1/1:1,1,171"1T'mu Family low, Odd Fellows' Columbia, Oct ti. W l . lll 1 . 1 1, 11 • , ra liht g and Strengthen l eCOI? 1)E1.1,1.71 - 1"S randy Alethein , Slow, Odd Fellow-' Halt. • Columbia I4c1.:11. 15:,7.. (I_OIIN Starch, Farina, Hire Flour, Tapioca, V Sago, Oat :llesl. Ariuw Hoof Sr .01 ihe FA3111,1":)11:1)1tANI: Tolits„ Sept GO, '.i.tidd rellows 111111. JUST received, three dozen Dr. Brunon's Vegetable Balers, a ecrtala cure fur Dyspep.l.), also. a lresh lot of .):))) Sago nod ]hue Appli• d'urina and Cora Starch, at 11 111:111t S Sept 5, 1,37. Grocery nod I.aplor :store. HAM DYE'S. Jones' Batchelor's, Peter's and hair d ) wart.oded to color the h.or any desired shade, without injuq. lu ille 111. Fui cult. by ‘1.11.1.1.‘ May 10, Front st., Columbia, ra. SOLUTION OF CITRATE OF 11AGNESIA.or Pur gative Alteteral Water —Tlll.lll,l,tat i•o•Otetar %Ouch is highly recoaaneltilt•tl a- :1 •al,ittate tor Epsom ,k 4 . .. Vali be ilholaille 41 freoll day at Da. B 111:ICB S Drag stole, Front st. [it! AMPS, LAMPS, LAMPS. Just received at 4 Herr Orug Man•, a lICAV and 1)COUIII“I lot of Lltnp • of all deaellpalolll. May 2,1;457. ANUPERIOIt article of burning Fluid just reeeived 111111 tor II SUN 1).111 ALARGE lot of City cured Dried Beef, just received lit it set LIAM & SUN Columbia, December 20, 1:756. ITOOFLAND'S Lerman lers.lorAle at litKl T kim.llrs, Family Malone t‘tote, Odd Fellows' Ilall. July 25. 1557. COUNTRY Produce constantly on hand an d for galc by II :-111 - I)AM L SUN "UT 01111 NY, Cranberries, Raisins, Figs, Ali-n -.ll_ ands, IVstlitul., Cream Nut-, tl r. .3 II vt received IL. t.t.t rON.S. Columbia. Dec 20,11956 A SUPERIOR lot of Black and Green Teas, Coffee and Chacolate,l o - 1 re , """ II -CA VA NI 3, QON ' C Dec. ^0,1856. Corner of Prom :laid Union sts. JUST RECEIVED. a beautiful assortment of Glass Ink Is:tarilS, nt the Ils-tichinatiers uud News Depot. Columbia, April I. 11XTRA Family and Superfine Pour of the e• best brand. for side by II Sill - DAN' N. SON. 113 ST received 1000 lbs. extra double bolted Buckwheat Meal, at Dec.2o, 1556. 11. SUYDAM A. -WEIKEL'S Instantaneous Yeast or Baking Powder. for sole by 11. A. "WARR & THOMPSON ' S justly celebrated Coln :1 mervial and other hold l'ea--tke 1.0 0 1 in the .market—just received. iv • SI MEIN ER. Columbia. April .2.4.1°55. WHY should anyperson do without a Clock, wizen they eaa be had for3l.soand apwards. ~ Columbia, Aptil49, i;~ ERMINE Imported Harlem Oil, for sale at IK-4 Dr. E B. HEIM'S Golden A:ortur Drug Store, &Front Wert, Columhtn. (Feb: f., 1454. ,411A111.1.1 AND FLOOR 011. CI.OTIDI, nil width-, for . NEM & CO. ATS AND CA PS, ..cottable for the '4 , 11,011. mud sti il i f ic 1 t 0 . ,..t 1 , 0, prier l, ., t the Corner of tri.lund Cotton sts. .0011 u II -t liv I o iturst:n k CO,. Corner Of Till fa 11,1i1 U4llOll .14 - Oct.lo, 1855 - White. 11,1 at,] YellowW nnl Ha it iselc-iul A, wool Vanlll. Of all COIOI.. MALI tiL1.11,1••• OCIObCr 10. 1:..17. 1111UNF.R'S. S ALT by 13 bnrrel o t r h r e ,, g . 7 l. k . o t r Lu- 1 11 . e i ! ); ..111 1 .1 L: In t ! : • 1 1. i rk.. 1 1 : 1 ( 7 . 114. Ortol,r 10.157. PRIME SEC.ARS AND TODACCO, of different brunde.vahnle.nle and rentel...l October 10,1. 4 57. I. , I RIIIINER Sr Co. TABLE and Ruch Salt, by the .tek or ba-hel. for gale logr. by Oct 10,1..57, DE GRATH'S CTRIC OIL. 3.1.1 ELE fresh 6111114 of thit , popular remedy, and ii r rroni stre,q.Poiumlim, by !any 10,1 , •56 ALARGEns.ortmenioflinpe. nil-tzes9).llrutthP, on loom! nod foreale, at TI 10.4. Mnrrh 12. No. I. MO, -treet. ANEV lot of NVIIA LI: AND CAR GREASING OILS, received at the store of the .iih.erther. IL WILLIAMS. May 10,155 G. Front Street,Colundlia, l'a. MEI ElEl TIIE LOVER'S SECOND THOUGHTS ON WORLD BY THE AITHOR OF "SISTER AN:sr." "How tiresome—how extremely disagree able!" complained my brother Arthur, as he tossed ou the table Miss Ponsonby's note, containing her acceptance of my father's invitation to her to come and spend a few wedlt , B with his family in their quiet country home. _We all looked spitefully enough at the in nocent little sheet •of /paper, with its delicate hand-writing, and its neatly sealed and faintly perfumed envelope. We were a family of rough, unpolished, motherless boys and girls. We girls, indeed, were even less I civilized than our brothers; for while we had run wild under the quasi control of a weak-minded governess whom we entirely ruled, they had been duly sent to a public school, where some d.egrAo of discipline had been flogged and knOeked into them by their tutors and schoolfellows. Arthur, es pecially, the eldest, the cleverest, the hand somest and the dearest, was just returned from his first term at college, and we were all proud of his improvement in appearance, and charmed by his gentlemanlike courtesy and ease of manner, though we scarcely un derstood it. We only knew lie was very different to Hugh and Stephen, and that already those wild, reckless fellows were becoming a thought less wild under the in fluence of their elder brother's precepts'and example. But even Arthur disliked the idea of Miss Ponsouby's visit, and we, sanctioned by his opinion, scrupled not to express our feelings unservedly. "A regular bore—a nuisance" cried Hugh, savagely cutting away at the stick he was carving, and sending, the chips Tight and left as he did so; "what en earth are we to do with a fine town lady!" "We shall have to he proper and 'lady like,' as Miss Fisher says," said Lydia, in dismay; "and how?—oh, there now, Hugh, =ill ~~~E~~~. love Aweary of the World Oh! my love is very lovely. 1,, her nand all beuenes dwell; She I. rola d m liviui tplendor, Or nee and tuodeqy attend her, And I love her more than well. But I izin weary, weary. weary, To de-patr my cool I, hurled, I am WCAry, weary, weary, I ant weary of the A orld She is kind to all :Lott her, For her heart is ini)la throne, She has ...miles for all tnen's gladness, She leare fur ever• sadness, She is hard to the alone. And wear•, weary, weary, From a love-lit hlllllllllt hurled; 1 ara weary. weary, weary, 1 am w caty of the wuritr. When my words ore words of wisdom, All her spirits I edn move; At my wit her eye.; will glisten, Bat she flies and will not listen, If I dare to epcnk of love. Oh! I'm weary. weary, weary, Hy a storm of pll-,1011 I am weary, weary, weary. I dm weary of the world: True. that there are others fairer— Faace—No, that cannot be— Yet some its oh of equal beauty, High in roil I and firm to duty, May have Linder hearse than she Why my heart en weary, weary, To and fro by pa--ton whard! Why Ao weary, weary, Wear) .. . by so weary of tho world' Were thy love but pa.-leg fancy, To unother 1 might turn; But 11n doont'd to lose unduly One who will /int un.wer truly. And who freeze. when I hum; And nu weary, lA. :try, weary, To devtur nip soul 1111111 . N; 41111 weary, weary, weary, I tun weary of the world! 11=1 Heart! take courage! Ili not worthy For a ,vornair.i ...mini to pill . If her cold indiffereme ommil thee. There are remedies around thee For .tiele imilady as thicie. Ile no lounger is eary. weary, From thy lace-ht summits hurl Bc no 11,11g0r weary, weary, Weary...vcary. of the ,vorld! If thou moot be loved by woman, Seek at:ma—the world wale; It It full of Icvitaz creature:, Fair in form, ii anal], mid features— Choose among theta for thy bride. De to longer is wiry. weary, To and fro It 2. ptt,ion Be uo longer weary. weary, Weary, Weary of the world! Or if Ince •should low thy favor. Try the pails of Itono.t Lone. Climb Perna,ll.: summit hoary, Carve thy way by deed.; of glory, Write 011 Hr•tory'. page thynann Be no longer weary, weary, To the depth• of .arrow Be no longer weary, weary, Weary, weary of the w odd: Or if tlie.e. -hall fail to inove thee. Be the ph:amt. - is unpitrued, Try a chant/ that wilt not fad thee NVlleti old lige and grief as.gtil thee— Try the els:antra doing good. Be no knitter weal; and weary. By the storm, of j.1 ,, 1011 wlm rd, Be in longer weary. ss, ary, ‘‘'ettry, Wary of the wont': Jote is fleeting and uncertain, And Coll hair, "here it adored; Cha..e of glory wear., the , pint, Fettle 1101 always follows talent, Goodne.., t> ns own reward. 13e no loager weary, weary, Troia thine happy ,nonnits burn], )3e no loaaer ~eary, weary, Weary, weary of the world! gatttinits. Our Town Cousin. A FAMILY REMISCENCE "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLYANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, APRIL 24, 1858. one of your abominable chips has flown into my eye. You've no business to hack away at that stick in the drawing room. Arthur, has he?—l'll slap your face if you make faces at me, sir." This last, of course, to Hugh, who was too vividly expressing his feelings by con tortions of his features. Arthur, as usual, had to exert his influence to prevent a quar rel, and when that was achieved we began to grumble again. "We were going to have such fun!" sighed I, "now Arthur is here, and all. We should have been so happy this Autumn. Bother!" "I'll tell you ghat we'll do!" exclaimed Stephen, in sudden glee, "we'll sicken her of being here. We'll send her off of her own accord, the second day. We'll make the place too hot to hold her, and she'll beat a retreat." •'llurrah!" cried Hugh, ''l'll do my part. I'll take her through bramble-bushss that shall tear her smart frocks, and spoil her grand fashionable bonnets. I'll let her ac cidentally slip into ditches which shall ruin her satin shoes and frighten her out of her fine ladyish senses besides. Oh, I promise l'll lead her a pretty life while she is here." "Hush, boys?" remon , trated Arthur, look ing up from his book, "you must remember this lady is to be our guest, and has claims to all courtesy and consideration from us,— It's no use to talk in that wild way. We arc gentlemen, don't forget that." This final argument was always irresisti ble to the two boys, rude and savage as they seemed. With Lydia and myself he em ployed other reasoning. "'Though we don't like this visitor, girls," said he, "we are not such Goths as ti let her see it. You will, of course, jointly do the honors, and I have no doubt you will acquit yourselves admirably. For," added lie, seeing we still looked somewhat dubi ous, "I should not like my sisters to be laughed at by our London cousin. I should not like her to think that you do not know how to behave with prorriety in your fath er's house." This speech had its due effect, and we prepared to receive our visitor, if not with heartfelt cordiality, at least with a decent show of it. Nevertheless, the arrival of the day which was to bring her among us was dreaded as an actual calamity. On that day, however, Lydia and I attired ourselves with unusual care. We had so much regard fur appearances that we did not wish to be looked upon as absolute slatterns by our cousin from town. So Lydia mended the rent in her skirt, which bad yawned for the last three weeks, and I condescended to pin a fresh tucker round my neck, and it pair of not more than half dirty cuffs on my wrists. Miss Fisher, our meek and much tyran nized over governess, was sitting in the drawing-room, which she had, with consid erable labor, cleared from the litter that usually strewed its flour, its tables and chairs. Lydia's drawings and my music were neatly disposed on separate shakes, and as many books as our rough usage had left presentable were formally ranged round the card basket on the centre table, after the ordinary fashion. Often before had poor Miss Fisher made similar orderly ar rangements, which we had invariably over turned five minutes after, but on this occa sion we suffered them to remain. Hugh and Stephen gathered round Arther, who was drawing mathematical mysteries at a side table, and Lyda and I, with unnatural demureness, seated ourselves on each side of Miss Fisher. At her earnest request we even submitted to get some needle-work.— Lydia routed out a half-hemmed pocket handkerchief from the depths of the work bag, and I applied myself to the intricacies of a knitted collar, which I had been slowly blundering through at rare intervals for some years. Thus we were employed when the roll of wheels on the carriage sweep leading to the house announced the return of our father from the railway station, where he had been to meet our expected guest. Lydia ran to the window and peeped out, heedless of Miss Fisher's imploring appeals to her sense of propriety. I sat still, feeling that I was sixteen years of age, the eldest girl, and about to enact the part of hostess. "Oh!" ejaculated Lydia, in a kind of sub dued scream—"what a heap of bandboxes and baskets. One, two, three—oh, there she is. My goodness, what a grand lady!— She's coming in—now for it!" And she fled back to her seat just as my father opened the door :it'd led in the young lady. "Caroline, my dear, these arc your cou sins, Elizabeth and Lydia. Girls, this is your cousin, Caroline Ponsonby. Did her welcome to Abbott's I ; range:" And my father, who was a man of few words, left us to make acquaintance. Miss Ponsonby was a very stylish young lady, indeed. Her silk dress was flounced to her waist, and rustled whenever she moved, and she wore little jingling chains at her waist and on her wrists; her large cashmere shawl was clasped by a magnifi cent cameo, and her bonnet was laden with all sorts of fashiGnable frippery. A mingled odor of attar of roses and musk was faintly perceptible as she entered the room. No wonder Lydia and I. recklessly indif ferent us we were to the obligations of the toilette—to:whom pomades were unknown. and patchouli bouquet de ht reinc utterly in comprehensible—no wonder we were com pletely dumbfounded at the apparition of our visitor—long expected and long dreaded as lie had lien. Miss Ponsonby, however, possessed all that ease and graceful self-possession which is only acquired by habitude to society.— She took my hand and shook it with a cor diality that set all the little chains and lockets at her wrists jingling furiously.— Then turning to my brothers: "My cousin Arthur, 1 presume," said she, smiling, and Hugh—and Stephen? My uncle has been initiating me into the nomen clature of my unknown relations, you see." By this time I had collutcd myself suffi ciently to offer to conduct our guest to her apartment. So I showed the way, followed by the rustling, jingling, perfumed Miss Ponsouby, who in her turn was followed by Lydia, grimacing, opening wide her eyes, and elevating her eyebrows, in testimony of her emotions. Arrived at the "best cham ber," Miss Ponsonby swept across the room to the window, which commanded an exten- DEEM "What a magnificent prospect!" said she with real heartiness, "and how pleasant the country is! Yuu seem to have quite an ex tensive domain, too, attached to the house. Charming!" Having listened to thest.. words, Lydia and I very shylyand awkwardly, took our depar ture from the room. Once outside the door, we rushed hack to the drawing-room. "Oh, what a time we have to look forward to!" exclaimed Lydia—"did ever any one sec such a alrected, tine lady in the world!" "So very fine," cried Stephen, mimicking her—" 'My uncle has been initiating me into the nomenclature of my unknown relations.' There's a flow of language for you! We must hunt up our lexicons while our fair cousin abides with us." "Lexicons, indeed!" growlel Hugh. "I neither intend to say anything to her, or trouble myself to listen to what she says.- 1 only hope she'll like us as little as we like her, and then she wont stay long." "Hadn't you better provide some special diet fir your friend?'' sneered Stephen, taking up the theme; "surely she will never touch the homely beef and mutton that it is our habit to partake of. Nightingale's eggs stewed with rose leaver, I should think, would form her most substantial repast.— Or, Lydia, you will surely Lane no of to boil your love-birds fur your sweet cousin's delectation. Consider, my dear, the duties of hospitality." "Yes," joined in Artbur, very gravely, "WC must all comider that. And it isn't inN - dtable, Stephen, to make fun of a guest, let me assure yea." Arthur's displeasure curbed, though it could not entirely crush, Stephen's sarcasm and Hugh's grumbling. The two boys re tired to a remote corner, from wheace occa sional bursts of laughter issuing, apprised us of the subject of their whispered conver sation. Miss Ponsonby made her g,ra.leful entrance into the room just as the tea-equipage ap- Now that her large shawl was removed we could see how elegantly her dress fitted, how tastefully it was ornament ed, and with what care the tiny lace collar and ears were suited to the rest of her at tire. What a contrast she presented to Lydia and myself as she sat between us at the tea-table. Her hair smooth and silky. while ours hung in disheNeled curls about our faces; her hands fair and delicate. and covere d with rings, while ours were Yeti and rough as a housemaid's. The thought passed across my mind that the contrast was perhaps not wholly favorable to us; but I would never haw, dared to give utterance to such an idea. The conversation was neither very gener al nor very lively, until my father appeared, and then it was entirely confined to him and Miss Ponsonhy. They talked of Lon- I don, the theatre, the exhibitions—or places and people we knew nothing about; and and we felt all the spite of the uninitiated towards the more privileged, accordingly.— When tea was over, and my father, after his usual custom, had retired to his study to smoke and read the paper, we all gathered I together round one window, leaving our via- itor sitting in solitary state at the table. She, however, soon accommodated herself to her position: fetched a book from a side table, and immediately, to all appearance, was lust in study. We cast furtive and un-' kindly glances at her, and communicated our dislike to one another under our breath. Thus things lasted till candles came in; and then Arthur magnanimously set an example of attention to our guest by asking her if she j played and sang? She answered yes, smil ingly, and willingly consented to let us hear , her. So she rose and went to the piano, and j played a number of brilliant things, which' we did not understand,land therefore did not like; and then she sang one or two Ital- ' ian songs. which made a similar impression upon our untutored minds. Lydia and I were resolute in refusing to play after our aecomplished cousin: we sat in grim silence, doing nothing, but looking %cry cross, which we felt, for it was our habit to dance among ourselves. in the evening, and we were all wrath with the intruder, who hindered us from our customary enjoyments. Arthur alone made any effort to amuse Mi ss r un _ sonby: he proposed a game of chess, and they played till supper time, and in the course of their play made great progress in acquaintance. After the young lady had retired for the night we all gathered around Arthur to know w hat he thought of her. "Oh," said he, yawning, "she is a very fine girl, mid talks well. Rather too stylish for us quiet fulks, perhaps, but still—" "I wonder how long she is arranging her dress of a morning?" speculated Lydia, "and settling her chains and bracelets.— Why, it must occupy half the night to take them off. And what with brushing, her hair—oh dear?" “Lydia doesn't consider "mood' hair com patible 'with any womanly virtues,” laughed Arthur, "and she repudiates the brush and comb." "Oh, I hate vanity:" cried she, abrubtly, but coloring too. And 1 noticed thenceforward a gradual improvement in the appearance of Lydia's abundant brown tresses. Possibly the ex ample of our elegant cousin effected some good in both of us. We could not but catch some infection of her neatness and care in dscss; moreover, we were all obliged to own She was nut ill-natured, and was ever wil ling to assist us with her advice, or even her helping hands, to any matter of cos tame. This ready kindness was tel evinced in other ways. Miss Ponsonby was always pleased to play or sing, to teach us stitches in embroidery, new waltzes on the piano, or new mysteries in crochet. As for her "choice language," I am inclined to think it was accidental, and a matter of habit with her. We were obliged privately to acknowledge that her fine ladyism, even after all, re:Ad% ed itself into always having clean hands and face, smooth hair, tasteful dress, and quiet manners. 'Nevertheless, in spite of these concessions, we did not "get on together" very rapidly. We still further quizzed her fashionable dress, and gentle, refilled manners. We still thought her good fur nothing but to sit still and look pretty, and do fancy work.— Except Arthur—who with his usual gentle manlike feeling paid her the more atten tion because welvere inclined to neglect her—except Arthur, we all eschewed her ' society whenever we decently could, and still looked upon her presence among us as the "thorn,'' the tiresome, disagreeable ne cessity we had originally considered it. 'Su two or three weeks passed, and I think it occurred to none of us that our cousin Caroline fa fuld have feelings below the sur face of her tilde:, pleasant bearing, and that there might be more in her than we saw ur choose to see. I believe I was the first, not to make the discovery (I was too obtuse in those days ever to be in danger of such a thing,) but to have the fact forced on me.- 0110 evening tea waited, my:father was in a hurry, and Miss Ponsonby had not respond ed to the summons. I was dispatched to her room, which, with my usual gauche pre cipitance, I entered without warning given, or permission a , ked. To my dismay my cousin was sitting by the window . , crying., She looked up at the noise of my sudden approach, and my loud announcement of "Teal" and colored deeply, more with in dignation than shame, I think. I had the grace to mutter some apology, and the feel ing, too, to wish to know what grieved her. "Is anything the matter, cousin?" said 1, "Pray, take no notice," she replied, has tily rising, and beginning to arrange her hair. '•I sorry to have kept you wait ing—l did not hear the bell. I will be down stairs immediately." And simply by looking at me she forced me from the room. When she appeared in the parlor she seemed much as usual. though I was able to detect the red mark round her eyes, and the nervous flutter of her fingers—those ti bite, ringed fingers we had so often laughed at, Lydia and I. I felt sorry for her, and felt ashamed of myself, that by my own bell:1N lour I had placed such a barrier of indifference be tween us, that now, when all my romance was interested, toy better feelings aroused, and I really desired to draw near to her, I was unable to do so. That evening, after tea, we three girls and Arthur went for a walk through the woods to St. Ann's Pool—that great piece of Iva- ! ter whereon our boating in summer and our skating in winter depended. I remem ber, as Lydia and I walked behind Miss Ponsonby and Arthur, toy sister's allusions in the usual scornful manner, to our visit or's silk dress, pretty mantle, and delicate bonnet, did not chime with my mood so har moniously as usual. I was glad to remem ber this fact afterwards. When we came to the "Pool," which was really a lake, as deep and as broad as most lakes, we two girls, of course, wanted a row. There were two boats always there, and we had soon nn locked the boat-honNe, and uninoored one of the little "tubs," as Arthur called them. I don't know why Arthur took it into his head to go off with one boat, while we stood on the bank watching him. Some freak of vanity, I havesince thought, made him eager to show off his real skill and united grace and strength in rowing, for our cousin to see more advantageou , ly than she would have done when in the boat. And we looked on while he rapidly skimmed across to the op po-dte bank, and then came back. But half-way—something seemed wrong--he drew up his oars—shouted to us: "Bring the other boat! there's a leak in thi4, and she's , mottling. Make I•aste:" The other boat! In our obsertance of him we had forgotten the other boat, which, relea , ed front its fa,tening. was quietly floating, away, and was already far heyond 31,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; 32,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE our reach. Lydia and I shrieked dismally. "It's gone—it's gone! He'll be drowned! lie can't swim." Where was Miss Ponsonby? She had sprung from the raised platform of the boat homze, and was making her way along the muddy bank by which the escaped boat was itiietly gliding. On site went, and now, be ing abreast of the boat, she waded into the water—regardless of shrieking, helpless Lydia—of that pretty dre , s and mantle—up to her waist, caught hold climbed in and had the oars in the water, sooner than I can rekte it all." "Hold up:" she cried then to Arthur. in the treacherous. fast-sinking "tub." We hardly breathed, I think, till he had hold of the oar she held out to him—and was safe. Then we sat down and cried. As for Arthur and Caroline—when I looked up, they were standing close by— Arthur supporting her, for she had hurt herself in the adventure, and was now as pale as if she were going to faint. "Can't you give any help, girls?" cried Arthur almost angrily. "You see—you see —Uood Heavens! she is injured—she is terribly injured—" "No, no, no, no!" was all she could say, in a faint voice. Then we saw her arm was bleeding from a great cut. In the midst of my fright I was amazed to see the passion ate way in which Arthur pressed his lips to the wound, saying, in a low, fervent voice: "For me—for me! I think I never prized my life before, Caroline:" Ye., I heard—and so did she. The color came into her face again, and she disengaged herself from all our supporting arms. declar ing she was quite well—quite ready to walk home. I hardly know how we walked home.— Lydia Wai crying, half the time, being thor oughly subdued by fright and agitation.— As fur me, I looked at my cousin, who, lean sng, on Arthur's arm, walked feebly in her ruined silk dress, from which we had wrung the water as well as we could. And I sighed with a new consciousness, as, ever and anon, I caught some words in Arthur's passionate voice, and then Caroline's low, sweet tones in reply. It was my first glimpse into the Enchanted Laud. New and mysterious as it all was to me, I intuitively comprehended,and I moral ized within mysef somewhat after this fash- "Well only to think! I'll never judge from appearance again. Who would have supposed that our tine-lady cousin would turn out a heroine after ill, just like a girl in a hook? and that Arthur would fall in love with her? and that she would be our sister at last?" Any other capacity never struck me as being within the nature of things. Even when, on arriving at home, Caroline escaped at once to her own room, and Arthur strode off into!the shrubbery, dark as it was, still I was not undeceived. I was rather stir ' prised when my offer to assist Miss Ponson by in changing her wet garments was re fused in a subdued and tearful voice. But I thought, "People have different ways of taking things. 1 dare say she is very happy, though she is crying about it." But I was roughly aroused to the real state of affairs. Arthur reappeared, and called me to join him in him in his evening ramble. Glad enough I UM`, to do it, though I could hardly keep up with his impetuous steps. Ile plunged in, 111CalaS reS, and un deceived me at once. "Lizzy, it's all over; she's Terll me.— I'm miserable for life. But no matter: she musn't suffer, she mustn't be distressed; she's an angel, Lizzyl" "No, not if she makes you miserable," said I promptly, and bitterly, and decisively. "Psha! it isn't her fault; she never en couraged or thought of such a thing. I know that; I know I'm a fool ever to have allowed myself to think of her; but—for all that I shall love her as long as I live." "Of course you will," I rejoined, in eager faith, "and it is very hard that she—O Ar thur; after all, how I wish she had never come to Abbott's Grange!" "I shall never wish that," said he, after a few minutes' pause; and even now, look ing back over the few intervening years, I can recall the manly uplifted look of my brothers face as lie said so. "I am the bet ter for having known her. I would live the last three weeks again, gladly; even to paying their price, as I do now." We were both silent for a little while af ter this; then be resumed hurriedly: "All this while I am forgetting what I called you for. Lizzy. You must contrive to keep a great deal with her, so that my absence may be unnoticed. No one but us three need ever know—and she is so sen.l tive. In another week I shall be going hack to college, and then it will be all right." He said the cheerful won]+ very drearily, though. I burst out impetunu•ly: "Arthur, she can't help liking you. Per haps some day—ahl don't gise it up; don't and be hopeless about it." "No, my dear little sister, it's no use.— She loves another man, and has been en gaged to him for seven years." Seven years! I was aghast. I could not help remembering that seven years ago Ar thur: a little fellow in a cap and jacket, was playing leap frog and marbles with all a , chool-boy's gusto. However, I said noth ing; for evidently the recollection had no place in Arthur's thoughts. Ile went on• [WHOLE NUMBER, 1,447. "Ile has been abroad a long time. She expects him back shortly; then they will be married. She told me; she said I had a right to know. She behaved beautifully: the is everything that is most pure, most gentle, most angelic. In spite of all my wretchedness, I know that. So he went on, till we were summoned in doors. Poor Arthur. he was thoroughly earnest and thoroughly generous in his love for Caroline l'unsonisv. If the misery he so freely spoke were less than absolutely real, and rather a luxurious novelty than anything else, I did not detect it then, and I was not quite able to forgive our cousin fur having caused it. My father met us as we entered the house. Ire had a letter in his hand, which be held held out to me. "It is fur your cousin," he said. "Take it to her. She is not well, I hear; but I'm mistaken if this doesn't prove a panacea even for being half-drowned. You hair brained scapegaaces!" He shook his head at us. but with his merriest smile. I ran up with the letter. Caroline looked miserable enough, even my sisterly jealousy was compelled to own. But my fhther was right. At sight of the letter her face brightened, and when she had read two or three lines she fairly burst burst into tears, and buried her face in the wonderful missive. "lle is hi England; he will be here to morrow,'' she said, in the first impulse of her relieved heart. I suppose I looked grim, fur, after a little w bile, she drew me towards her, holding fast hold of toy hands, and looking straight into my fare. "Don't be unjust," she said, with resolved frankness; "and don't draw back and keep aloof from me as you have done. Partly it was my fault, doubtless; but remember, cousin. you were at home and I was among strangers, and though I yearned to give you my confidence, I could not force it on you. 3ly uncle knew. I wish he had told you." She stopped, pained by my apparently unsympathizing silence, I suppose. "Arthur will—Arthur won't—Arthur is too brave," said I , incoherently. "Arthur, being ten years younger than r am," she remarked, gently, "may be reason bly expected to forget all that had best be forgotten. Yet fur his generous kindness, his friendliness to me when friendliness was so needed, I shall always lie grateful, fund always grieve that it cost him even a passing sorrow." "A passing sorrow!" repeated I, indig nant again on the other side. However, since then I have been com pelled to acknowledge I was mistaken in more things than one concerning our cousin from town. Even so early as next morning, when there (hashed up a post-chaise to Ab bott's Grange, and there entered a brown bearded, brown complexioned man, who looked to me quite as old as my father, and who, it seemed, was that "other man" of whom Arthur had spoken to me. Even then I began to allow that perhaps there were incongruities in my brother's first love that might prove fatal to eternal constancy, and perpetual misery thereanent, humilia ting as was the conclugion. Yes, and now, when the annual family gathering is held at Abbott's Grange. and happy Caroline, with her husband and chil dren, sits talking with her old friend, my brother Arthur, also happy with his wife and bairns (he marrid, I think, his fifth love;) and when I remember how true and energetic her ftiendsliip has always been; how many times it has helped him, as it has cheered and comforted us all—l am com pelled to acknowledge that first impressions are not infallible even at sixteen, and that early youth, with all its enthusiasm and generosity, is too apt sometimes to blend good deal of injustice. Xrtr - Colonel Jones is a gentleman and a wit. The other day he was showing the town to some ladies from the steeple of the Court House. One of them asking him why the lightning rod, where itiwas attached to the building for support, was incased in a piece of horn, the Colonel replied that horn was a non-conductor. "Oh, indeed!" said the lady, knew that before." "To be sure," says the Colonel. '•ltave you never observed that When the boys have had a born or two they can't con , lnet them- selves properly?" The great height from the ground pro vented the lady from fainting. On another occasion the Colonel «n+ asked by some ladies if it WII9 not worse for the gentlemen t 4 Irinl than for the la dies to use snuff? The Col net replied that both were very bad: and that if his wife eter take to snuff. he'd lickrr, certain! As IscoaranlßLE &W. —John A—was a good-natured fellow, not 'without wit, :verse to toil, and vending most of his tin.e in manipulating those rectangular forms of pasteboard which T. Crchore devi ses, and where the American eagle sits on. the nee of spades. John's father was dead, ! but his uncle. a Boston citizen frequently gave him good advice. "John," said he one day, "be industrious and with your talents you can make any thing of yourself. Suprise you have no capital. Loot; nt old !Billy Gray! He came into t his city with a pack on his bailk, and wont out with a million of dollars!" "That's nothing to my case. unele,•' said the incorrigible John. "I came into this city with two packs in my pocket, and nun gin; out without a red cent:" ' I never
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