_ _ • - ; , • - 0 • . • if 4; . -H. -•. , • .. • A SAIIMEL. WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor, VOLUME XXX, NUMBER ,tB.l PIIBLISIIED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING Cffice in Carpet Hall, Nortk-toesieorner of ',Front and .Loevet rireete. "Terms of Subscription Vf•a e Copypernnnum,if paidin advance, ,411 Sol " if not paid within three . monthsfromeommencementofthe year, 200 41. Cie:mi - taw am Copy. • No subscription receivedfor a less time than six sMOIIIIIA; and 'moaner will be discontinued until all ..arceivagesare paid,aulessat the optional" the pub. isher. irrMoneymayberentittedbymall flatten üblish .er,s risk. Bates of Advertising. stauttre[olines]one week, 40 38 three weeks, 75 each ,übsequennasertion, 10 112:ines3oneweek. 50 three weeks, 1 00 eachsubsequeutinsertion. 25 Largeradvertisementt•in proportion liberahliecount willbe made to quarterly, half early.orf early td vertisers,who arc strietlyeonfined their business. DE. HOFFER, DDENTIST.---OFFICE, Front Street 4th door from Locust. over Saylor In McDonald's Hook store Columbia. Pa. Mr Entrance, between the Book and .Dr. Heres Drug Store. (August 21, 1859 THOMAS ivELsEr, JUSTICE OF THE PUCE, Columbia, Pa. OFFICE, in Whipper's New Building, below Black's Hotel, Front street. 1E7 -Prompt attention given to all business entrusted to his care. November W, 1857. D[i. G. W. DILIFFLLN, TIENTIST, Locust street, a few doors above L., the Odd Fellovvio Hall, Columbia, Va. Colurobui.lllar3. 1856. H. M. NORTH, A TTORNBT ND COUNS 101 t AT LAW. Colutni.in,Prt. Collectioits,t romptly made : l nLiincaster and York Columbia .May 4,1850. J. W. FISHER, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, iaciluzzikaixr, Columbia, Seplumber 0, t f S.Atfeeßoekius, D. D. S. I)RACTICES the Operative, Surgical and Alectran kat Departments of Deatistry. OFFICE I.oeum • - a rem, between the Franklin [louse and Post (MCC, Columbia, Pa :11 ay 7 leso CHEWING TOBACCO. AT HENRY PF.A.111.1111,5, Locust street, opposite the Franklin House, call be had CUBA LEAF, CON GRF.S.4. and several other brand- of the best Chewing Tobucco, to which the attention of chewers is invited. Slay I, MSS. lAi volt:rt.:9 Lubliec, oleo, Glenn's Double Extract!, for Ilse boudkerehiel; of HARRY GREFINbS, Oppoobe Cob,. Bridge. From Si. MEM 11R001118.-»100 Doz. Bruoms, at Wholesale or Want. at 11. ITAIII.I.IIVS. Dr. 12. 1t.:17 Lao u+t freer. (4INE'S compound of Syrup of Tar, Wild Chet tY and Ileathound, fel the rum eougla4, IVhaoping Comb, Cr o ne. he. For %ale at Nit•L:(IItKI.E.& Family Itirdtcate Store, Mal Fe tow. Ilell ()ember ,2,1 Patent Steam Wash itoilers. .L 11 ESE well known Boiler.. ore kept ea...malty on hand at ENRY I'VA All LEltiti, I.oeipti Rirect.oppoltie the Crankily House. Columbia. July Iti. t 537. Outs for sale by the bushel of larger quan itly by 13. F OW. Columbia Dec 25.1259. 13tinvi Bal.lll. TOBACCO and Segars of the best brands. A wholegalie and retail, u t a'59.. BRUN EWA JUST in store. a frceli lot of Breimg & tonticid's celebrated Vegetable Cattle Powder. and for sale by Front street. Columbia. Sept. 17. 1850 Soap. '25 Boxes of Duffey Brown Soap on hand and for sale low at the corner of Third and Union Ste. Atigust 6.11 YA Suffer no longer with Corns. the article ..k! v h ` l.e : warranted rDr" to re 3 remove c-an Corns h procure nn 49 hours. without pain or soreness. Fly Paper. A sureturm article of Fly Paper. for the deiitruc lion of Flies, &v.. haii jut , : been received at the Drug Btorc of R WILLIAMS, Front 'treat Columbia, July 30,1859. Harrison's Columbian Ink 'WHICH ix a Yaperior article:. permanently black, V V a n d not corroding the pen, can be had in any quantify, nt the Family Medicine Store, and blacker yet to ihnt English boot Columbia. ince 9.1939 1J : : 9 Ir Re .WINSLT,I7 - 6 Soothing Syrup, which will 111 greatly facilitate . the process of teething by re ducing intlornotum, aduying rum. rmamoodie action, ac., in very short time. For sob" by 8.. WILLIAMS, Se 1.17,1e30. Front street, Columbia. - pEDDING & CO'S Russia Salve! This ex tremely popular remedy for the cure of external ailments is now for rule by R. WILLIAMS. Front st., Columbia. Sept. i 4,1850. SALT by the Sack or Bushel, and Potatoes in large or *mull quantities, for enir nt the Corner of Tkild and Union 'greets. [Jan.& '59. FRAHM PANNI Extras and Soap,el everlasting perfume. at HARRY GREHDPS, Feb. 19.'59. Opposite Cola. Bridge. Front St. CISTERN PIMPS. crIFIE subscriber has a large stock of Cistern Pumps J. and Rams. to which lie otitis the attention of the public. He is prepared to put them up for use in substantial and enduring manner. IL PPA HLER, Locust street December 12.1957 FANCY TOILET SOAPS 471 HE finest anrortment of Fancy Toilet Gonne, ever 1 offered io Colombians, at BARRY GREEN'S. Feb 19, "W. Opposite Cola. Bridge, Front St. C(IOLOGIVE IVATER by the plarovan or gallon Glenn's EXIMCI6 for the handkerchief by the once or poond, or in any quantity to soli purchaser's Goaca , s, Oppo.ite Colo. Bridge. Front St atreb. 19. 959 Just Received and For Sale, I'2oo Plaste r. b e It= Family "-MU bus. Ground Alum Salt, by B. F. OPPOLD, Carol No.l and g Cal Sa•in. 117 n reit 2iL, 'A _TERM'S Celebrated Black and Green Teas, ,ley lialger'n Cocoa and Chocolate, at Corner of Taint and Union ntreein. (Nov. 90. '59. .111111/111, or, Bond's Boston Crackers, for 1,„11 Dripeptice, and Arrow Root Crackers, for in valids and ehildien—new articles in Colombia, at the Family Medicine Sion), April 14 NEW CROP SEEDLESS RAISINS. 11111£ beat for Pies, Pudding, k c.--a fresh supply' at H. deYDASI'd Groe.ry Store, Corner Front and Union eta Nov. 1, 1859. Seedless Raisins! A LOT of very Ounce deedie-s ft,ovins, halt received at rt . R . EitERLEIW.S N0v.19, '5O. °merry Store. NG 51. Laccan •t. Turkish Prunes! F na a a. st rate article of Prom.s you ott , t go to S 1 . . ESERLEIN , S Nov. AD, 1‘49. Grocery Store, No. ; - t t.oe t esi at SHAKER CORN. JUST revel anl. S. G.-1 r hni ("OM ,al of Skrr ("O, II 'UV DA W 8 Or.r.ry corner rrnnt all.l Plum, .1. Nev 16.0). grfirttigito. Cousin Jonathan Before a bright fire, in a handsome fur nished drawing-room, two persons stood one evening—a young and very lovely girl, with a merry glance and smile. She was dressed in something soft and white, that floated round her like a mist; and in ber nut-brown hair nestled a half-blown rose. ELM Her companion was a man, past the prime of young manhood; and, perhaps, the first impression his appearance gave was that of awkwardness only. Short and ungraceful ly, yet powerfully made with features far from regular, it would be difficult to describe him as othcr'than a plain man, of some five and•forty years of age. Yet he had one charm—a voice of wonderful richness and depth; soft and gentle too, then speaking to his fair companion. "I hope you will enjoy it as much as you expect, Alice." "I hope I shall; but, cousin, why are you not going with us?" "You will not miss me, and I have letters to write this evening. Besides, what should an old fellow like me do at a ball?" Alice turned round and gave him a very saucy little look out of her brown eyes. "What a silly thing you are, Cousin Jon athan!" At that moment a tall, hearty-looking old gentleman entered the room, evidently en joying some joke, much to his own satisfac tion. Ile carried a parcel in his hand. "See, Miss Alice, here's a queer sort of a thing come for you. Can you imagine what it is? I'm sure I can't." ~." She unfolded the silver paper, and broxight to light an exquisite bouquet of hot- house dowers. "Oh, bow lovely! how very lovely! But who can have sent them?" She glanced at her cousin as she spoke, laughing. "Not Jonathan, I'm sure," said her fath- er; "he's old enough to have more sense." "Did you send them?" persisted Alice, movitig nearer to him, and her voice falter ing a little. no. Is it likely? See, here is a card in the paper." She took it up, and read aloud: "With Captain Ray's compliment..." "Very polite—very proper—very kiwi," said her father, rubbing his hands—"very much so indeed." Cousin Jonathan mot-ea away. Mr. Braybrooke took his daughter's hand, and turning her deliberately round, examin ed her with great apparent satisfaction. "Not amiss, is it, Jonathan?" said he, ap pealing to their quiet companion. That gentleman was reading a letter, and, looking up for a moment, replied: "Certain ly not, sir." He bent over the paper again, but any one near might have seen it tremble in his hand. Alice grew very rosy. and drew up her slender figure to its full height. "Pray, papa, don't ask Mr. Waring to ad mire poor me; you disturb him from his let ter; and, besides—l—l'm sure it doesn't— I "My opinion can be of no value, I know," said her cousin, with another glance from his occupation. "Never mind him, Puss," added Mr. Bray brooke, as be thought he saw Alice's lip quiver; "these old bachelors always are cross and ill-tempered." "The carriage is at the door," cried the footman, entering very opportunely. Mr. Braybrook left the room, and Alice's maid came in' with a warm cloak of white and cherry-colored silk. • "Good-night," said the little lady. Then this charming affair was properly put on, and a black lace veil was thrown over her head. Mr. Waring looked up. She stood beside him, holding out a tiny white-gloved hand. Ete took it, saying: "Good night; I hope your 'first ball' will be a merry one, Alice." The hand lingered in his. "If you were only coming, Cousin Jona- than—" Ile interrupted her quickly, almost harsh "But I'm not; so good night." She went away silently, but turning at the door to say "Good night" once more, he fancied ho saw tears glistening through the shadowy black veil over her face. He started to his feet; but a thought seem ed to strike him, and he sat down to his pa pers again, muttering: "She'll make me make a fool of myself, whether I will or no, with that voice and those pleading eyes.— Pshawl a man at my age—ridiculous!"— And on went his pen faster than ever. Hour after hour passed on, and still he was busily at work. One—two—three o'clock struck. There was a sound of bustle in the hall below. He heard Alice's clear ringing laugh—that laugh that was like no other.— He beard Mr. Braybrooke's hearty voice, and another—a voice he did not know. They came up ataira—Alice, her father. and a tall, elegant .. looking young matt in uniform. •'Mr. Waring, Captain Ray," said Mr. Braybrooke; and then the three began to talk over the ball, and apparently forgot the very existence of the writer at the sofa-table. Jonathan Waring's heart grew full of I it terness. Alice glanced once towards him, raw him pale and with compressed lips. "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NORANT PLEASTIRESo LASTTNG:" COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, FEBRUARYII, Her eye grew brighter, her laugh more joyous; Captain Ray thought her each mo ment more and more lovely. Refreshments were brought in, and soon after the Captain took leave—not, however, before lie bad promised to cell on the mor row and bring Alice .a bool.: he felt quite sure abe would like. "I am sorry you sat up for us," said as Mr. Waring was leaving the room, let ters in hand, "you look quite tired out." "Thank you, but I do not feel so." "I t must have been a long, lonely evening to you." "Not at all; I was too busy to find it either. Good night." "Good night, cousin. Row do you like Captain Ray?" "I think he is a very elegant man." "So do I; very fascinating, too." "I can well fancy it." "Good night." She ran up the stairs half-way, then turn ed and ran down to him again. "Cousin Jonathan, will you tell me if you think I looked nice to-night? Really, I mean—" "To me you looked just as usual." `•'Well, many people told me I—l- 7 " "Looked lovely, no doubt; and as plenty of others told you so, there is all the less need for me to do it. Now, good night.. Go up stairs; you will be quite tired out to-mor row, if you do not." Alice, when in her own room, wept bitter ly. "He sees that you care for him, and shuns you. He wants to•guard you from yourself," whispered pride. Some weeks had passed away since Alice's first ball. It-was the height of the season; and of all the beauties fluttering nightly from one scene or gayety to another, none was more admired, more courted than the lovely Alice Braybrooke. People did soy she was a "bit of a flirt"—and perhaps people were not very far wrong, certainly it seemed so. "Legion" was the name of her lovers, and she apparently enjoyed their admiration to no small degree. Sometimes "that quiet Mr. Waring" was seen with herself and her father, but not often. No one took much notice of him, and he did not keep with Miss Braybrooke much, unless she happened to be tiring herself with dancing too long together, or resting where there was a chill draught; then Cou sin Jonathan was sure to be near, with a kind word of warning, or her scarf ready to put on. One morning, as she lay buried in the cushions of a luxurious sofa trying to read a newly published novel, Mr. Waring came into the room, and struck with the wearied, listless expression of her face; stopped, and asked if she had a headache. "No, not much, thank you. What time is it?" "Nearly two. May I sit with you a lit tle, Alice? I have a great deal to say to you. ,, The weary look was gone in a moment: it was a very unusual thing for him to ask to stay with her, and it made her color come. He brought a chair, and eat near her, but where she could not see hie face. lie took up the book she had been reading. "Who sent you this, Alice? Which of the adoring swains?" "Mr. Craven sent it to me." "Did you ever hear an old song—'Heigh ho! heigh-ho! I'm afraid too many'--I". "Hush!" cried Alice. rather pettishly; "if you talk in that way I shall send you away." lie took her hand and held it in both hie own. "My dear little cousin will you take a word of advice from one who really has your good at heart?" She neither spoke, nor yet withdrew her hand. "You have no mother to witch over you, dear Alice, and are placed in what I know must be a very, very trying position. lam sure you always wish to do right; but it is very bard to escape from the unkind re marks of the world. You are very young, very lovely; many envy you—many cen sure you—" He paused a moment, and Alice bid her face upon the arm of the sofa. "Do not think me presuming, dear Alice, in speaking thus; we are old friends—we shall always be friends, she 11 we not?" Her fingers closed on his. "Remember that you have attach to answer for—many responsibilities. Above all, take care that you do not make others unhappy, or trifle with affection which, if true, is more priceless than all the wealth of the world. You know what I mean, Alicel" "Yes." "Do not raise hopes unless you mean to fulfil theta." She was sobbing, in a low, subdued man ner, that went to his heart. "You are not angry with me, Alice?" Angry with him! If be could only read her heart! "We old bachelors are privileged persons you know. Nsy, you roust not sob in this way. I only wanted to give you a word of caution before I go." "Go!" cried Alice, springing to her feet -..a. are you going to leave me?" Ile was not prepared fir this. -lie hard ly dared trust himself to look upon her, as she stood there with clasped hands and quivering lips. "Tee, lam going back to Loscombm 1 have been here too long!' he added, half to himself—but she beard the words.. •'Too long! Then you have been dull, lonely, with us—and now you are goiagl 0, what shall I—what shall we do without you?" "Nay, Alice, you will hardly miss me.-- It is not as though I were a - young man, and could-be more companionable to you.— Besides, my people at Lescombe want me; and—but, Alice, Alice, do not cry; I can not bear it, 'dear child!" That word recalled her to herself. It was better to hear it from him. Teal be thought of her as a child; and she—she had dared to love him,not as a child loves, but as a woman. She had poured out her whole heart at his feet, and perhaps he knew that it was so—perhaps be scorned her for it. She dashed the tear-drops from her eyes, struggled to stay the sobs that nearly chok ed her, and sat down by his side. "Tell me about Lescombe." Lescombe was his home—the manor house of a country village. He told her of his tenanty, and how poor some of them were; of the efforts he had made, and was making, to improve their condition; of the schools he had built, and the new parsonage then in progress; of how he visited among them, and tried to win their confidence and love; and, as he spoke so earnestly and truthfully of all this, his homely face to her seemed be:miffill, with a higher beauty than that of mere form, and she felt, as she had often felt before, that to be his wife would be the happiest lot on earth, and one of which she was unworthy. Mr. Waring was in reality but a distant connection of her father's; but Alice had known him since she was a little child, and the name of "Cousin Jonathan." given to him then, had been retained in after years. She had always looked upon him as her friend, but unconsciously had learnt at last to love him as a woman loves but once.— The very fact of his being so many years older than herself had, for a time, blinded her as to the real nature if her feeling; but when she met with that love from others, which from him she would have given the whole world to possess, she knew bow it was, and bitter, very bitter, were the pangs of wounded pride and homeless love in her young heart. 'When do you leave us?" asked Alice, as she rose to leave the room. "To-morrow," he replied, without looking at her. That night they had an engagement.— Alice made tea for them in the drawing- room "My darling, are you not well?" said Mr. Braybrooko, taking her hand in his. Mr. Waring looked earnestly at her for a moment. A bright crimson spot burnt on each cheek, but there was a livid circle round her eyes, and her lips were almost colorless. A strange thought came over him—a thought that made his pulse bound wildly and his hand tremble. Could it be so? He tried to put the thought from him. He dared not dwell up on it. The footman entered: "Captain Ray is in the library." "Why did you not show him in here?" asked old Braybrooko, sharply. "Ito asked to see you alone, sir." Alice had risen and walked to the fire place, where she stood, holding the mantel shelf with both hands; but Mr. Waring had caught a glimpse of her face as she passed —it was deathly pale—her father left the room. There eras a dead silence "She know of this, hence her agitation," thought Mr. Waring, as he covered his eyes with his hand to shut out the sight of her from before him. The silence continued unbroken, and he felt his self-control deserting him. "Alice, I shall go to my room. I have letters to see to—and—l might be in the way. ,, She turned to him—such a mute express• ion of anguish on her face that he uttered an exclamation of horror and surprise.— She stretched out her hands to him, as though in wild entreaty. lie sprang to her, clasping her hands, like death, so cold, so lifeless. - darling, do not look in that way, all will Im well. You will be bappy—yon must be. God bless you and him:" Re hurried from bar presence, feeling un able to bear it even one moment longer. The morning camo—the morning of a day fraught with fearful interest to Alice Braybrooko—tbe day that must part her from Mr. Waring. and decide the fate of Captain Bay. for Alias bad petitioned time to think. She came down to the breakfast room looking almost like a liring statue, so calm, so pale. Mr. Braybrooke was net yet down, but a figure stood in the deep bay window. "lived morning, Cousin Jonathan." Ile started, and turned at her voice. "I have a beautiful morning for my jour ney." •'Very. What time do you go?' •'ln an hoar." "Then I must give you your breakfast." "You shall; but first I have a word to say to you. Nay, Alice, do not look afraid; it is no lecture this thaw—only to tell you how deeply, how fervently I pray that the lot in life you have chosen may be a happy one." Ha had not meant to be vary calm but . - his voice faltered, and, unknowingly, he at most crushed the delicate hands as he bald them in hisown. She raised her calm, sad eyes to his face. "And you care this much about me, Cous in Jonathan?" "Care, Alice!". , "I did not think you cared so much. I am very very glad. She spoke so low it was almost a whis per; but suddenly clasping her hands, and holding one of his to her heart, she went on to speak vehemently, passionately—all her assumed calmness gone. "I know that to you, so noble, so true, so good, I seem but a weak and erring child; but do not think—ohl never think that all your kindness can be by me. forgotten, or that my heart is not full of gratitude for every gentle word you ever spoke; and, more than ell, for telling me when I was wrong, which no one else beside has ever done." She would have spoken more, but some thing in his face arrested her. His voice sounded hoarse and unnatural. "Alice, hush! You know not what you do." A change came over her. She dropped his hand, and with both her own pressed tightly down upon her breast, as though to stay its beating, stood gazing on him with wondering eyes and parted lips, from which all shade of color bad faded. Ile passed his hand across his forehead, and turned from her. "Alice, leave mel—in mercy leave me!" But she stood as though rooted to the ground. "Would to God I loved her less:" burst from him like a groan. She heard it, and her lips moved, her arms were stretched out to him;one uncertain step forward, and she fell senseless at his feet. Cousin Jonathan did not leave town that day. Captain Ray did_ When the winter was coming, Lescombe had its master back again, but he did nut come alone. Alice lived a happy woman, for she had one ever with her who could guide her right, and sometimes she used to call him "Cousin Jonathan." A Most Rcaiting Drama. MI atm.'s ,professional, and in the law we hear and come across queer things. I give you warning, however, I had nothing to do with this in question; but my agents in London—a highly respectable firm—were engaged in the inquiry. It WAS all in the pa pers some years ago, but I dare say you have forgotten it. And, after all, a story twice told may pass on a winter's night. I'll make it short. It's a drama in three acts—there's blood in it; but dou't be alarmed, I beg. Act the First, then. I was fond of the play when I was a young man, articled in London. The scene opens in a dentist's room in the West End of London. Mr. Filey was a fashionable dentist, with as ex ceedingly, what is called, gentlemanly ap pearance. You might have taken him for a baronet, and so might I. A carriage drove up to the house, and a lady carefully attired—West End costume, and some of those women do look very captivating. I haven't been in London now for four years, notwithstanding the railways; and when I do go it's never to the West End, But, well —a lady, I said. She inquired for Mr. Filey. That gentleman made his bow. "Mr. Filey," she said, "I have come to you on a sad case." She sighed. Of course Mr. Filey was full of sympathy—in his as pect, at all events. "Yee," she said, "it is very sad. You are great in teeth, Mr. Eau. Do you re member me years ago?" Mr. Filey begged to be excused his forget• fulness, attributing it to hie extended prac tice. "All I was then younger, Mr. Filey. I am now, u my card will have shown you, Lady Spriggs." Mr. Filey bowed to the title. "I have a nephew, Mr. rasp; the heir to a vast property. He - has bat one defect— his teeth! Ohl the trouble those teeth have given usl His timidity is such that he will never now approach a dentist's shop—l mean, house—and we are at our wit's ends what to do with him. Do you think that if I contrived to lure him here,! Mr. Piley, that you could so manage as to remove one or two of hie—l think you call them grind ers—without his being aware of it?" The proposition was rather startling, but Mr. Filey was an old hand, and an able. He said, he had no doubt that, if he bad the young gentleman there, be would ex tract the teeth, and he should hardly know anything of it—so delicate and sudden would be the manipulation—till it was over. •'That will do," said the lady. "You will eternally oblige his family, Mr. Filet', and deeply shall I feel indebted to you, believe me. I will take the liberty of paying you in advance, if you please. May I know what it will be!" She drew forth her purse, end paid the sum Mr. Nay thought St to demand. Arrangements were then made that the young gentleman should nail on the mor row. as two o'olook. P. 31., precisely. Every device not to alarm his sensitiveness in the matter of his teeth was promised by Mr. Paley, who was ftmewarned that the young gentleman was eccentric, and dressed not quite in the fashion—in fact. commonly; so that, unless you knew it, you would not presume him to be heir to a vast estate. $1,50 PER YEAR EN ADVANCE; `O,OO IF NOT IN ADVANCE. 860. The scene closes on Mr. Filey bowing the lady into her carriage. Act the Second, displays a jewelry shop, West End—Messrs. Spitchcock & Co. A lady alights from her carriage and enters. She desires to see some jewelry. A diadem set with diamonds flies her eye. Her taste is pleased by a beautiful bracelet, and a pair of ruby ear-rings, which suit her com plexion, she thinks. She hands her card— Lady Spriggs; at present residing at Mr. Filey's. "You know Mr. Filey, the dentist?" "Very well, indeed," she is told, •'and Sir Sampson also, by name." She then desires them to make out their bill, and tell her the amount of her pur chases. Four hundred odd pounds the bill amounted to. And the shopman wasn't as tonished! But what a country this is, where women can lavish money on gimeracks—as I tell my wife. However, the lady said she would be infinitely obliged to them, if, with in half an hour—that was, by two o'clock, precisely, and not a moment later—they would pack up the things, and despatch them and the bill, by one of their young men, to Mr. Filey's, where Sir Sampson, her husband, would write out a check, and liquidate the debt. Some women's ripen role, I suppose. However, the request was readily assented to. She departed, and the scene closes with her being bowed into her carriage a second time. May the Lord have mercy on simpletons! Well, gentlemen; Act the Third. I con tend that they are perfect acts, though they have but a scene apiece. A young man with parcel calls at two o'clock, precisely, that afternoon, at Mr. Fi lers, and asks to see Sir Sampson Spriggs. "Her ladyship is within," says the page. The young man says, she will do. He is ushered into a room where he sees the lady. Do you smell a rat, gentlemen? Well, the lady affably took the parcel from the young 'man, and said: "I will take it to show my husband up eau's. He will be with you in five minutes, and hand you the check. You will excuse me? I must first satisfy him of the neces sity I have for the articles." Of course the poor fellow thought that all was fair nud straightforward. Hal ha! He said he would be happy to wait. Hal hal He took a chair.% Halxhal hal You'll et case 'iliy - latrzbingt - ttroagb- - really too bad to laugh. Well. He waited. The minute hands of the clock went round. He waited on. Before he had time to feel un comfortable in his mind, the door opened, and a gentleman walked in who bowed to him, and made his mind quite easy. "I brought the things," said the young man, "and am waiting—" "To see me" said Mr. Filey admiring the stratagem of the lady immensely. "To see me. Yes. I'm aware. A beautiful day to-day sir? Rather sultry. May I of fer you a glass of wine?" Of course the young man didn't object.— Hal hal You know how they used to pre pare victims for the sacrifice! Ha! ha! Well. They talked. Mr. Filey said: "Pray take a chair, may I ask you?"— and the young fellow, warmed by his wine, was quite agreeable to anything. "Will you open your mouth, may I ask?" said Mr. Filey. "What for?" says the young fellow, areas ed. "Oh, nothing!" says Mr Filey. "I mere ly wished to inspect. The conformation of your tongue struck me as peculiar. Not that it affects your speech, sir. Not at all. Bat pray allow me." The poor young fellow opened his mouth. Hal ha! Ile opened his mouth and gaped. "Now draw back your tongue," said Mr. Filey. No doubt the young fellow thought him a very ecoentrio baronet, but he complied. In a minute one of the grindet:s was seiz ed—caught in vice, wrenched, twisted, pull ed. Heaven spare us all the horrible agony: I can't laugh any more. The grinder came out at last, in the midst of stifled screams, and, I'm afraid, curses. It came out, and the young man was guilty of an assault on the body of the dexterous operator. Mr. Filey went down. "Where's the lady? Where's Sir Samp. son Spriggs?" roam the young man; with his hand on his mouth. "My dear sir," says Mr. Filey, "you real ly—you may be eccentric, but when one is doing you a good, sir—doing you a service . .........P, "Service!" splutters the wretched young fellow. "Service to pull out a tooth when I didn't ask youl" "Ask me, sir!" says Mr. Filey. "When I tan you it has been arranged by your es timable aunt, Lady Spriggs, and that it was paid for yesterday—" "Paid for yesterday!" bawls the victim, starting back. "This tooth. sir, was paid for yesterday," says Mr. Piley, impressively. "Lady Spriggs—my sand" exclaimed the confounded youth. "Come, air." says Mr. l'iley; "I Ultra whatever your ohjsctioo to part with it, yon owe me an apology. I will not say, in dos form. I expeotad caprice. Bat really such violence" The young man deliberately asked for Sir Sampson Spriggs, or the parcel of jewels which be bad brought half an hour ago from the shop of Messrs. Spitchoock & Co., whose servant be distinctively proclaimed himself to be. [WHOLE NUMBER 1,538. "Bless me!" cried Mr. Filey; "is there not some mistake? Have I really?—on my honor, "If you will go up to Sir Sampson Spriggs, and get that parcel ofjewelry immediately," said the young man. Mr. Filey started. "I won't prosecute you," the young man added, washing his mouth out with water. "You are not the nephew of Sir Samp son?" said Mr. Filey. "Don't laugh at a chap, after what you've done to him," growled the young man. "There's a mistake." said Mr., Filey.— "Sir Sampson is not here. It was an inno cent stratagem—" , "Innocent!" sneers the young man. "To get you to submit to the operation Lady Spriggs---" "Will you ring for her or not?" cries the no longer unsuspicious youth. The bell was rung. The ready page. in formed them that Lady Spriggs had left the house shortly after her brief interview with the young man. By degrees the consummate confidence of Mr. Filey in her ladyobip was melted and dispersed. De accompanied,thu young man to Messrs. Spitchcock's, related his share in the adventure, and made, let us hope, something like due reparation to the poor victim of the cleverest piece of tasenli ty I know of. Vicissitudes of a Million. At the time of our story, there was an auction store near the Bourse. The Viscount Robert N. de P-wns twenty-five years of age, had an income-of 25,000 livers, good looks, an ilhistrious name, and could have made a very brilliant marriage. He ought to have been the hap piest man in the world. He only had one regret. He had nothing to do. He was un happy at hie happiness. The constant tran quility of life fatigued him. He needed a little bitter in his cup of perpetual sweets. But heaven refused to grant it to him. He resolved to fly to other lands, tbere to seek the fatigues, the sufferings, the novelties he lacked. So, Sve years ago, he entered by chance an auction room, just as they were putting up a capital portable writing desk: Ile was about to travel, and it was just what be needed; so he:bought it for three hundred francs. It probably cost more than ten times that sum. In the interior there were compart• meats for everything, and a plate bore the name of Lord N , one of the richest peers of England. He was enchanted with his purchase, and carried it home in tri umph. Some days after, he set out for Spain; as he went from Madrid to Cadiz he was stopped by thieves, who completely de spoiled him. The only thing he missed was his desk. He prayed them to return it.— They refused; but their chief, Don Jose Maria, promised to Bead it after him to Ca diz, on receipt of a ransom: Roliert:prOmised 200 reals, end geve the address of the betel where he meant to stop at Cadiz.. Ile sent the money and got his desk. In America, in the wilds of 3fezleo,o , desk was carried off by Mexicans. thought it lost. Four months afterwards he found it in a shop in Vera Cruz, and paid 500 francs foe; it. In 1852, having returned to Frane, he thought of going to Baden. He pulled the summer there, and went to Paris,;v:isiting Cologne and Aim-la-Chapelle on the way. Arrived at the frontier which'eeparates Prance from Belgium, be fell into itie r hands of the custom-house officers. Some days be fore some skilful fellows had defrauded the customs to a considerahle amount, conse quently the officers ware on their guard. The search WAS long; and the 'Viscount became furious. - . "What do you fear?" ,he ,7aagrily. "Oh, air, objects ofgreat falyecan be con oealed in a small space." "Have I the air of a smuggler?" "Ico, but there are ambassadors who smuggle without scruple." The search continued. and the Viscount was astonished to see the otEcia‘ open draw ers in his desk, of the existence of which lie was ignorant. At last, full of impatience. he wished to reclaim it. "Now, that you have Been all," said be, "let us not prolong this unpleasant investi gation." "What do you say, sir?" "I say that you have seen all, and kne* that I have nothing contraband." "Your coolness, sir, makes me pity yois. nays you nothing to bring forth? If you do so, you will be freed by paying the dues; if not and I find anything, there will be a confiscation and a fine." But you hare seen all." "Perhaps." "What do you menu by perhips!" it is well made. Any one but myself might have been deceived." "But I awmtr to you that you have seen all." "Why deceive me? I am going to prove the contrary." "If you end anything else, /II swear I know nothing of it." 44 .& poor exonee. I warn you 'that Ido not believeyou." "Let us &ish this bad joke." "We will, sod so touch the worse for you." And with s nail the *Seer pressed against what was apparently a little ornament. which flew back. disclosing a dratier, in which was a paper parcel. The officer .took it out, looked at it. and put it heck.
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