1 T WI INA t A r 1 It A r r ce SAXUEL WEIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXX, NUMBER '29.1 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING Office in Carpet Hail, North-trest corner of Front and Isocaet streets. . Terms of Subscription One ComeTaannm,if pnidin advance, 4. if not paid within three month afrom commencement ofthe year, 200 414 C7corvtila et. 4:l4corysr. Nosubseripuon received fora iCE , F , time than six frionthsl andno paperwill be discontinued until all iirridritesare pltid i anlessat the optionof the pub igher. -iirkoneTnanybereraittedbymati a Wimp ablish tea risk. Rates of Advertising. equare[Glities]one week, „, $O3B •• three weeks, 75 , -eachtabsequentineertion, [l2' Inep]oneweek. three weeks, 1 . 00 ( ' • eachsabsequeatinsertlon. 25 tarieradrert isement n proportion - .Aliberaldisedunlwiilbe made to gaarteriy,haif• early oryearly idvertlaerapoho are strictly confined otheir business. a DR. HOIFT ER, DENTIST.—OFFICE, Front Street 4th door from Locust. over r.inylor do McDonald's Book store Columbia, Pa. 07-Entrance, between the Hook and lir. Herr's Dreg stare. [Autos 21, 1858 THOMAS SVELSK, .113STICE OF THE PEACE, Columb, Pa, OFFICE, in Wbippers New Bu i l a ding, below Black's Hotel, Front street. Er Prompt Intention given to all business entrusted to has tare. - November 28, 113.57. DR. G. DENTIST, Locust street, a few:doora above the Odd Fellows , Hall, Columliia,'Pa. Columbia. May 3. 1858: - H. N. NORTH, ATTORNEY ND GUNS I.OI. AT LAW. Columbia Col lectioni,iprornpay rnode nLoneasterond York ?oolitic*. Columbiti,Moy 4 1850. J. W. FIBBER} Attorney and' Counsellor at Law, cical3.333.okAusi, Po Setnevnber 6, I ti 50.11 g Atlee Bockius, D. D. S. tRACTICES the Operative, Surgical and Mech'3n• ice! Departments of Dentistry. Orates I.orust street, between the Franklin House and Post Office, Calamine, re May 7. 11359. CREWLAG TOBACCO. T HENRY PFA FILER'S, Locust sirecLopposite the AT Franklin House, eau lie lied CUBA LEAF, CON GRES.4, and several other brands of the best Chewing Tobacco, to which the attention of chewers is invited. May 1, ISCIS. IPORTED Lubin'., o 1e0,,C; len tt's Double Est ruetr, for the handkerchief, ut H ABBY GREFN , S, Opposite Coln. Bridge. Front = BROOMS,--• 100 Doz. Brooms, at Wholesale or Recoil. at 11. 1' FA H LEH'S. lire 12. 1537 Locust oireet. SINE'S Compound of Syrup of Tar, Wild Cherry and lion rheum), tar the eure of Cousin, Cold., Whooping Cough. (Iniuti. he. For safe n t Rnndly Medieuie Store. Odd Eeliowti.' llull October 12.3, i Patent Steam Wash Hollers. TIIEse well known Boiler are kept enal.-tnntly 0.0 haw! Ilt If Y 1:I OItIA.III'St I.cn4 Hi fret. oppn.Hte the Cranidin House Columbia, July 1H,16.57. flats for sale by the bushel or larger quart k July by B. F. A PPM,I), Cotuinb to Dec 25, 1355. Cana I Bain TOBACCO and Segars of the best brands, u..boleka le and retail. at Ju'd9,. TiFtIrCRIVA JUST in yore. nreab lot of Breilatg k Vronfiewp celebrated Vegetable Cottle Powder. and for sale by WII,LIA From street, Columbia, Sept. 17, 1859 Soap. rag Boxes orDulrcy Drown Solo on hand land for 40 sole low lit the corner of Third and Union tits. August 0.1950 Suffer no longer with Corns. AT the Golden Mortar Drug .tore you can procure an article which is warranted to remove Corns in 49 hours, without pain or soreness. Ply Paper. Asurettion article or Fly Paper. for the destroc lion of Flies, Ace.. has jut lbeen-receaved at the Drug Siore of R' WILLIAMS, Front street. Columbia, July 30,1850. Harrison's Columbian Ink WHICH is a superior article, pert:anemic black. TY and not • corroding the hem, can be had hi arm quantity. at the Fatuity gledieine :Store, and blacker yet is that English Boot Polish. Columbia, 3 oae 9,1859 On Hand. 11" RS. WINSLOW'S soothing Syrup, which will .111 . greatly facilitate the process of teething by Te clumg Intimation, allaying pain, cpamodic action, &a., in very,Aort time. For sale by R.. WILLIAMS, 5ePt.17,18,10. • Front Street, Columbia. - pEDDING & CO'S Russia Salve! This ex tremely popular remedy for the cure of exterlful ailments is now for sale by R. WILLIAMS. Front st., Columbia. 5ept.24,1259. SALT by the Sack or Bushel, and Potatoes In large or Pmall qunniitics, for sale nt the Corner of Thild and Union streets. r 4 iaNOIPANNI - Extrants and Soap; lin everlasting perfume. at lIARRY BERN'S, Feb. 19. '59. Opposite Cola. Bridge. Front St. CISTERN PUMPS. 71 8 .,,, s trn er . i . b l e o r triA l l b le ri c e irit: r ai e te i :Vo n n of Uie public. Ile i. prepared to put them up for use in 0 submantial and enduring manner. H. PFAlit.nß, Locust greet. Deeember 12.1557 FANCY TOILET SOAPS. enaling finv.t sts.oriment t,f Fancy Toilet doom aver ea *Fared to Columbiana, at HARRY GREEN'S. Feb 19, "SO. Opposite Cola. Bridge, Front St. JIOLOCNE -WATER by the pint.quart or gallon Glents's Extracts tar the hendlrrchief by the ante or pound, or in any quantity to suit purchaser's o Hatay Unites's, Parreb IP, %SD. Opposite Cole. Bridge, Front St Just Received and For Sale, `-.2 Mils. Ground Plarier; 50 bittl• Haifa Family 0 Flour; 25 tibia. No. I Lard Oil of Lost quality; QUO bits, Ground Mom Sal; by sppotto, Notch servo. No. t and. 2 Canal Mein. J . ENllN'S'edebnned Black and Green Teas, • !Jaime* Caeca and Chocolate, at Corner of Third • anal Union lrreein. [Nov. 20. 'SS. rzRAIIIII; or, Bond's Boston Crackers, for Drxprotico, owl Arrow Root Cracker., ter in valids and childien—new aniclee in Columbia. al the Family. Medicine Store. April 10. Ist9 NEW CROP SEEDLESS' RAISINS. nyttE Lest for Pies, Podding, ice.—n fresh ..pply nt dl.` YUA Cmeery Store, Corner Pinta nod Union els Mos. 19 law Seedless Raisins! AMr - verrchoice tteedle•• Ftvioin, iugt received ' at ESERLEIN , s N0v.19, '3L • Grocery Soar.. No 71. I. curt "L. Turkish Prunes! R s first role arfieleof From, you moo go to . s. EFERLEIN'S Nov 10,1800. Grocery' ewe, No. 71 1,u,, at SHAKER CORN. Jose received, a 6rat rate lot or shak e r Cora, at ;MS DA St'te Gmcery Siorr,votner Front and tlaion-et. N0v.26, UM. _ . [From the Atlantic Monthly posed as though I had been caught peeping. Substance and Shadow. Is So far from being satisfied with this roe _ A fatiguing journey up six long, winding olutimi of my doubts with regard to the sex flights of saloothiy.waxed stairs carriadasa of my neighbor, 1 now found myself more to the door of the room I occupied i zilre ' uneasy and curious than before. Was she Place—. But no matter for the name of young and pretty, and good? and What did the Place; no one, lam confident, Neill visit she do? and what was her name? My Paris for the.express purpose of satisfying thoughts were perpetually running up those himself that .1 am to be depended upon, an d L six flights and stopping baffled at her close that there is a house of so many stories in i shut doors I drew ideal portraits of her, the Place Maubert. Here I lived, au pre. ; and introduced them into all my pictures no mier au dessous du seen, in the enjoyment IPertinac:ously as Rubens did his wives, and of no end of fresh air, especially in winter; would often finish out an accidental face in and a brilliant prospect"up and down the 1 a study of rooks, much to my instructor's street and over the roofs of the houses across surprise and my fellow-students' amusement. the way, which reached from the Pantheon f It was very remarkable, however, that all 0131 on the one 'side, to the peaked roofs and fac tory-like chimneys of the Tuileries on the other, the domo of the Hotel des Invalides occupying the centre of the picture. I was studying painting at that time,—learning to paint the much-admired landscapes and figure-pieces which I produce with so much ease now and dispose of with so little,—and, as a general thing, was busy (though I had my fits of abstraction, like other men of gen ius, during which I did nothing but lie on my bed and smoke pipes over French novels, or join parties of plegisure into the country or within the barriers,) through the day, and often till late in the evening, in the ate lier of one or another of the most renowned artists of the city. At the head of the lest flight of stairs in this house was a narrow passage-way in which I was always obliged to stop and re , corer my breath, after finishing the one bun deed and thirty-nine steps that led to my paradise, before I could get my key into its lock; and into this passage-way opened two doors, one of which, of course, belonged to my room, and the other to some one's else. But who this some one else was I was un able to find out. Was ft—and how conve nient a word is ca in such a case?—male or female? I was persuaded it must be a wo man, and as a woman I always used to thick of her and speak of her, to myself,—and I thought and spoke of her often enough.- 0: course,-I should have settled the question at once by knocking at her door and ask ing for a match. but I scorned resorting to such weak subterfuges. But how quiet she was! o,.easionally, when, contrary to my usual custom, I took another nap after wak ing in the morning, instead of going out for exercise and a glimpse of early Paris street life,--occasionally I used to hear her mov ing about on the other side of the thin par tition which separated our rooms, as stealth ily as though she feared she might disturb me. She would light her charcoal-stove. and perhaps glide softly by my door and down stairs, to return soon with the paper of coffee, the bit of broad, and the egg or two which were to serve her for breakfast, and now and then she would sing to her self, but so gently that I never could hear the words of her song, nor scarcely the air- An evil spirit put gimlets into my head, but I shook them out like so much powder and resolved to be honorable if I was an artist. I found, however, that my curiosity was an abominable nuisance, that my morning walks were almost entirely 'neglected, and that I counnotbear to leave my room un til I had heard her go out and lock her dour behind her. Every day I resolved that she should not go out again without being seen by me, and every time I attempted to fol low her in such a way as to escape detect ion, I lost sight of her. I nearly fell into the streets* I attempted to reach far enough out of my window to see her as she came out at the street door. At last, one morning, when it happened that just as I had finished dressing myself and was ready to go out, she opened her door and ran down stairs without closing it behind her, carried away by my curiosity, I stepped out into the narrow passage-way and looked into- her Sanctuary. The room was a smaller ono than mine,—bat how much neaterl The muslin curtains in her window were as white as snow; her ward robe, which hung against the wall, was pro tected front the dust by a - linen cloth; the floor shone like a mirror; Her canary hung in the window, and greeted me with a per fect whirlwind of rmiludea as I stopped into the room. Her firo was burning briskly un der a pot of water, which was just coming to the boiling point, and singing as gayly and almost as loudly as her bird. Over the back of the chair was thrown the work she had been busied with. and on the bed, al most hid by the curtains, was a pair of the prettiest little blue garters I ever saw, even in Paris e —span new they were, and had ev idently been bought no longer ago than the evening before—and some other articles of feminine apparel which I will not attempt to describe. I looked into her glass, I real ly believe, with the bape of finding there a faint reflection of her face and figure. She must have looked into it but a minute be fore going out. A. book like a Testament lay on the table. I knew I should find her name on the fly-leaf, and was just on the point of satisfying myself with regard to that particular when I heard her feet upon the stairs, and, with a start which 'nearly carried away the curtains of her bed, I rush ed from her .room into my own. How my heart beat, after I had gently closed my door and was sitting on the side of my bed, listening to the movements in the next room] It llidn't seem to mo as though Ibtad• been guilty of a high misde meanor, and yet, though 4 bad been pre ;pared for ber return, I was as much disown- "NO ENTERTAiNMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING:, COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY' MORNING, FEBRUARY IS, these fancy sketches bore a striking resem blance to another acquaintaince of mine, who will shortly be introduced, and in whom, until I moved into my new room, I had been exclusivaly interested,—so much so, in fact, that—but I will not antici pate. - Most of my days Were spent on the oppo site side or the'Seine; and, as I crossed that river, by the Pont Royal, at about five o'clock every evening, on my way to the Lai terie, at which I usually took what I called my dinner, I al ways stopped to buy a bunch of flowers, of violets in their season, of a charming little flower-girl, who had her stand on the Qua' Voltaire, and who, by the time my turn to be served came, had usu ally disposed of nearly her whole stock.— Every man who looked at her bought of her. She possessed something that was more at tractive even than her beauty; though I question, if, without her glossy brown hair, her soft, dark, eyes, her glorious complex lon, her round, dimpled cheek and chin, her gentle winning smile, and her exquisite taste in dress,—l question, if, without all these, her quiet, modest demeanor and un affected simplicity and propriety would have attracted quite as much attention as they always did. I had not bought many bouquets of The rese before she t egan to recognise me as I came up, and to greet me with a smile and a "Bonjour, Monsieur," sweeter in tone and accent than any I had ever heard before.— What a voice hers was! Its tones were like (hose of a silver hell; and I found that she always had my bunch of violets or helio trope ready for me by the time I reached her. My frngal meal over, I was in the habit of visiting a neighboring cafe, where I read the papers, drank my evening cup of coffee, and as I smoked my cigar or pipe and twirled my posies in my fingers or held them to my nose, wottld wonder who she was who sold them to me, if she over thought of those who bought them of her, and if she distin guished me above her other customers. It seemed to me, that, if she had the same an. gelic smile and happy greeting for them as she always bestowed upon me, they must one and all be her slaves; and yet I couldn't decide whether I really loved her or was only touched by a passing fancy fur her. I looked forward, however, through the ' day, to my interview with her with a great deal of impatience, and found myself making short cuts in the long walk which led me to her. I used to arrange on my own way, well-turned sentences with which to please her, and by which I expected to startle her into some intimation of her feelings toward me. I was angry that she was obliged to stand in so public a place, exposed to tho gaze and remarks of all who chose to stop and buy of her. In fine, I was jealous, or rather was piqued, that elle should receive all others exactly as she received me, and almost flattered myself that necessity forced her to meet them with the same sweet smile inclination led her to bestow on me. This was the state of affairs at the time I moved into my new lodgings, before referred to, in the Plate Maubert, and I was suffer ing theseinental torments for Theresa's sake, when the appea.ranc, or rather the non-ap pearance, of my mysterious neighbor aggra vated and complicated the symptoms and converted my slow fever into an intermit tent. I had called my fair unknown Her mine;—the pronoun she, as it applied equal ly to every individual of the female sex, and in the French language, to many things be sides, soon became insufficient, and I took the liberty of calling her Ilermine. I was so ashamed of my foolish passion that I 1 could not make up my mind even to ques tion the porter at the door with regard to her, nor to consult any of my better initia- ted acquaintances as to the proper course to be pursued, but lived out a wretched succes sion of days and nights of feverish anxiety and expectation,—of what I knew not. • I was on my way over the Pont Royal, one evening, at my usual h'.ur, and was just coming in sight of my bewitching flower merahant, when a sodden, and, us I believ ed, a happy thought occurred to me, and I resolved to put it into instant execution,— I am sure I blushed and stammered wofol ly as I asked fur two bunches of flowers in stead of my usual one, anl I was confident. that, as she handed them -to me without a word, but with such a look, Therese's brow ' was shaded by something more than the dark bands of her brown hair or the edge of her becoming cap, and that her lip quivered rather with a suppressed sigh than with her usual happy smile. I didn't stop to speak with her. that night, but hurried away to wards my room, conscious—for I did not dare to look behind me, or I am sure I should have relinquished my design—that her large for ' rowful eyes were full of the tears she bad kept but while I had stood before her. I reached my room as soon as passible, and, j ed her position in my interest only by pre 'after assuring myself that my neighbor *as serving her incognito and maintaining my still absent, inserted my second nosegay into curiosity strained to the highest pitch. My her keyhole, and rushed from the house as acquaintance with Theresa beenane daily though I had committed burglary, more intimate and was soon upon such a I was very young then, very romantic, footing as seemed to authorize my asking and wholly wanting in assurance. I must her to accompany me on a Sunday jaunt to have been, or I should never hare regarded one of the thousand resorts of Parisian it as a crime, not against myself, but others, pleasure-seekers just beyond the barriers of that I was making my days miserable and the city. my nights sleepless on account of two young She accepted,—of course she did,—and girls, ono of whom I had never seen, and the matter was finally arranged one Satur the other of whom was merely aft ower-mer. day evening for the next day. I was to find chant, When I clambered up to my ?Dom late that night, the flowers were no longer where I had put them. I had been torturing my self all the evening with the thought that Hermine might have felt offended, and that I should find them torn in pieces and thrown down at my door, or that elle would be waiting for me with a severe reprimand for my boldness and impertinence. But I could find no trace of them, and went to sleep, soothed by the conviction that they had been carefully put by in a glass of water, or were occupying a place on her pillow by the side of her dainty cheek. I feared to meet Therese's sorrowful face again the next night, and was troubled so much by the thought of it through the day that I fairly deserted her that evening and bought my two bouquets elsewhere. With one of these, which I lied taken care should be of a finer quality than before, I repeated my experi- meat of the preceeding night and with the same gratifying result. But the day after, forge sting. until it was too late, that I had given Therese fair cause to be seriously angry with me, habit carried mo to my old resort again, though I had fully determined to reach home by another way, and to pa. tronize, for the future. my new bougueliers, who was not only old and ugly, but of the masculine gender. Habit—and perhaps wish had something to do with it—was too strong, however, and I found myself turning down the Quai Voltaire at the customary hour the next evening. Much to my surprise, and somewhat• to my mortification, Therese greeted me with her old 'many smile. Her "Bon Jour, Non- sieur," was as cordial as ever; and it even seemed to me—and that didn't in the least tend to compose me—that her eyes sparkled with an archness which I had never seen in them before, and that her voice had in it a tinge of malice, as she held out to me two of her finest bunches, saying:— "Esi-ce que, Monsieur, en desire deux encore ce sole" I was very angry with her for being in such good humor, and believe I was any thing but amiable or polite with her. Why did she not look hurt or offendod and re- proach me for my desertion, instead of al moat disarming my senseless anger by her gen tleness? "It seems that Monsieur forgets hie old friends, sometimes," she continued, as I took the flowers she had been holding to wards me, and was fumbling in my pocket for the change. "Forget!" I stammered; for the temper I found her in, had so completely ruffled mine that I was hardly sufficiently master of my self to be able to answer her at all,—"what makes you think I forget? Arm I not here this evening, as usual?" "This evening, yes,—but last night you did not come; or were you here too late to find me? P' she paused, and, with her color a little heightened, as though she had narrowly escaped making a disclosure, looked another way,—"Monsieur mist have bought his flowers elsewhere, yesterday.— Were they as fresh and eweet as mine?" "But how do you know, Mademoiselle?" —I answered, after I had given her a long opportunity to add what I bad hoped would follow thit long-drawn-out "I;" (she was going to say, I was sure, that she had wait- ed for me to come as long as was possible;)— "How do you know that I bought my flow ers elsewhere, or that I sought any? And where can I find finer ones than you give me?" "Monsieur is kind enough to say so," she returned . "Can you excuse my indiscre tion? I only thought that, as you never miss carrying a bundle of flowers home with you, and 'sometimes two," she added with a wick ed twinkle in the corner of her mouth, "you must have found some better than mine, last night. Monsieur will, of course, act his own pleasure." Therese had never appeared to me more bharding than at that moment. I wonder ed afterwards how I had been able to tear myself away from her, and was almost angry that I had not thrown down my se cond bunch, bad not vowed t,' her that I would never desert her again, and bad not confessed that the pain I had suffered from my folly bad more than equalled here, since I was never so happy as when I could be near and see tier and hear the music of her ECM And this was my life, and these the pains I used to suffer. Two tender passions held alternate possession of my fickle heart, and a constant etruggle wos always waging be. tsveon them for the mastery; and the impos sibility of deciding in favor of either of them, which to accept and which denyeprevented my yielding to either. Therese, however, whose real presence I could enjoy, upon whose delicious beauty I noun feast my eyes whenever the fancy seised me, and whose voice I could hear, even when sepe. rued from her, possessed a fearful advan tage over her invisible rival, who maintain- her at the house of her aunt, who lived in my neighborhood, and who to my surprise, turned out to be the proprietress of the Lai torie I frequented. Here we were to break fast, and afterward take the proper convey ance to our destination, which I think was Belleville. Sunday came, and with it came such weather as the gods seldom vouchsafe to mortals who contemplate visiting the coun try. It was one of those cloudless days in early June when all Nature, and yourself more •than anything else in Nature, seems as though it had been taking Champagne,— not too warm, but sufficiently so to make out-door life a luxury, an excursion like ours into the country almost a necessity. Therese, like everything else in Nature on that summer's day, was more gloriously beautiful, in my eyes, than ever before.— Hermine's ideal beauty, and with it her chance of success, faded out from my mem- ory like an unfixed photograph, before this charming reality, and Therese ruled supreme. She had dressed herself with a taste which surprised even me, who had so long regarded her irreproachable, as she was unapproach able, in that particular, and the joy she felt at the thought of a whole day's ramble in the country showed itself in every feature of her countenance, in every movement, and every tone of her voice. There didn't live a prouder or a happier man than I was, as we made our way aria in arm towards the Place Dauphine, where we were to take the omnibus fur Belleville. - We ran wild in the woods and fields all that day, we fed 'the fishes in the ponds, we made ourselves dizzy on the see-saws and merry-go•rounds, and at last, fairly tired out, and feeling desperately and niost unro mantically hungry, turns 1 into the neatest and least frequented restaurant we could find and ordered our dinner. Therese was no gourmande, luckily.— ller taste was simple and harmonized admi- rably with my slender means. We dined, however, like princes, and drank a bottle of Chalean llfargaus instead of the via ordin aire, which was my ordinary wine. The rese's gayety had fairly inoculated me, and forgetting my usual reserve, we laughed and chatted as noisily as a couple of chil dren. "Upon any word," cried I, as I caught sight of n bouquet of flowers in the room we occupied, "what a couple of ninnies we have been! We have forgotten to got any flowers to take home with us. But I sup pose you see too many of them through the week to care for them to-day." "Oh, not" replied Therese. "I could nev er see too much of flowers; and besides, you must have a bunch to carry home to Made moiselle this evening. She will never for give you, if you neglect her to-day. And what would she think or say, if she knew where you are now and whom you are with? She is very fond of flowers,—when they come from you, I mean." "Well," I stammered, and my face burned lika five. "What Mademoiselle? And what makes you think that I make presents of the flowers I got of you? I only got them for myself, and as an excuse for seeing you." "AM snenteurP cried Therese, shaking' her finger at me with mock solemnity. "Fi done! c'est vilain. Do you think I have no eyes, or that you have - none that speaks ar plainly as your mouth, and more truly?— You try to deceive me, Monsieur! and the little hypocrite assumed so injured and heart-broken an expression and tone, that I was almost wild with remorse, and cursed the wretch who had placed the flowers in the room, and myself for having noticed them. I should have been hurried into I don't know what expressions of attachment to her and of indifference towards every oth er individual of her sex, if she had pot pre vented me by the following startling re mark: "I know to whom you give the flowers you value so much as coming from me. It is to your next door neighbor, who pleases you more than I do, and whom you have known, perhaps, longer than yon have me. Why didn't you invite her, and not me, to come withiou to-day? It would have been better." "Mil" cried I, ".do you know her? She told you about it? Why doesn't she lot me see her? Is her name genuine!" And almost before I knew it. I had told her the whole story of my passion for my invisible neighbor. • Therese posited, and turned her back.— She put her handkerchief to her face, and called me all sorts of hard names for having brought her there to listen to the confession of my love for another; and turned a deaf ear, or I thought she did, to my expostula tions and my protestations that I didn't really care for Elermine,—that it was only a passing fanny,mere curiosity than anything else,—and that I really loved no one but her. *- 0 - She began to relent at last. though I was I half inclined to be Isom. for her resentment became her even better than her. good ho mor. $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IP NOT IN ADVANCE. 860. "Well," she said, finally, "it is too tire some to quarrel, and I will forgive; for, al• though you say you have never seen Her. mine,—(that is a prettier name than The rese, isn't it?)—she has, perhaps, seen you, and may really love you"— "But I don't love her," I cried. "I don't want tam her. her name isn't Ilerminc, I know. I will never think of her again, ' nor make a fool of myself by putting nose gays into her keyhole, if you will cn]y not look so sober any more." - "She will be very sorry for that, I'm sure," returned Therese, with a smile I could not translate; "and she will miss them very much. I judge her by myself. I al ways find a bunch at my door when I go home at night." "You: You find Sowers at your door? And who puts them there?" And I took my turn at being provoked. "You haven't used me fairly, Therese, to make me understand all this time that you cared fur no one but me. There is some one, then, whom you love and who loves you?" "Oh, yes!" she answered, her whole face beaming with a pleasure which made me feel like committing a murder or a suicide; "oh, yes! I believe he does; he has almost told me so. And—and I know that I do.— But he is so droll! lie is my next-door neighbor, and has nerer seen me yet, and has never tried to, I believe; but he leaves a hunch of dowers at my door every eve ning, and calla me—llermine." "Hermine! You Hernoino? Hurrah!" And before she could prevent me, I held her in my arms, and in spite of her strug gles, had kissed her forehead, eyes, hair, nose and lips before she could extricate her self, and then went round the room in a wild dance of perfect joy and relief. "I knew I could lore no one else, Ther ese-Herrnine, or Hermine-Therese! I knew there must be some good and sufficient rea son fur the unaccountable attraction my neighbor was exercising over me. Why didn't you tell me sooner, mcchan!c? I sup pose you never would have done so at r.ll if we had not came out here to-day. Suppose I had not asked you to come with me?" 'Wouldn't you have asked me?" she an swered, with so much winning grace and in such a pleading tone that I found myself obliged to repeat the operation of a few lines above. "Wouldn't you have asked me? I don't know what I should have d.me," she continued, sadly and thoughtfully. "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, jumping up and clap ping her hands, while her whole face was radiant with triumph. "Oh. yes! then should have been Ilermine, and you would have asked me." Two happier young people than Therese and myself never, I am confident, returned by rail from a day's excursion in the coun try. Our happy faces, our rapid talking, and our devotion to each other, which we took no pains to conceal, attracted the at tention of all about us,—and I heard one father of a family, who' was returning to Paris with o. half score of cross, tired, and crying children, whisper to his wife, as he pointed, towards us,—"That is a couple in their honeymoon, or else lovers; how happy they are!" And that is the way in which I stumbled into wedlock. flow many others, in their pursuit of what has seemed to them the substance, have failed to discover, perhaps too late, that they were following a flitting shadow,—while I, favored mortal, in my chase of a dream, stumbled upon the great est real good of my Whole life! An Incident of Dartmoor The Parish of Lydfori, in Devonshire, is said to be largest parish in England; its ex tent ought to be measured in square miles instead of acres, for nearly the whole of the great forest of Dartmoor is included within its boundaries. Dartmoor is no longer, if it ever were, a forest, in the ordinary moaning of the term, for there is scarcely a tree upon it; but it is a splendid waste, where a man may walk twenty miles on end, and see nothing but granite rocks, and heather, and mountain streams, and bogs, save where from some hill-side the bare stone walls of some moor land farm, the dark, sharp outlines of which lie stretched like a map before him on the other side of the valley, or a group of white washed houses near a bridge give some signs of a human habitation. The pale green fields and patches of turnips look ten times more desolate, struggling as they are for ex istence with swamp and rock, than the pri meval moor beyond, which partakes of a certain grandeur, clothed in nature's own rich colors. But if Dartmoor is wild now, a hundred and thirty years ago it was wilder, and in that enormous parish some difficulty occur red in reaching the parish church. In the present day there is an.orthodox church at Princetown (the convict establishment) and dissenting chapels have arisen in lonely places; and these places of worship have graveyards in which the moormen can bury their dead; but a hundred and thirty years ago every funeral bad to go to Lydfurd church, ten, fifteen, twenty miles, over hill and valley, rock and mire. The curious old "Leech-path" by which they took their weary journey is still in existence, and may be seen winding its melancholy way through the wildest morasses on the moor. Beg on every side, yoo can turn neither to the right nor left, tut on the Leech-path there is firm footing. This was the ohuroh-walk of the old moor-men before roads were:known, and [WHOLE NUMBER 1,539. along it, on the shoulders of their neighbors, on the back of mountain pony, were the an cestors of the present race borne to their last home in Lydford churchyard. In the last part of the last century one Syddall, of Exeter, was called on important business to Tavistock. The distance by road was sixty miles at least, but not more than thirty across the moor; Syddall was a bold man, and moreover pressed for time, so he determined to ride across the moor.—, It was winter, and snow had fallen, and still lay thinly on the ground in the cultivated country, but our traveler was not prepared for the quantity he found when ho arrived• at the borders of the moor. However, he was not dismayed; the track lay well defined before him, for it had been already trodden since the snow had fell; so, mice lating upon crossing the moor before dark set in, he rode on. But difficulties began to increase with the wildness of the country. What with the roughness of the path and the snow, he found that he could go at a little better than a walking pace, and the afternoon of a January day found him about, the centre of Dartmoor, with nothing but snow on every aide, a leaden sky above him, black and threatening towards the south east, and a chill wind blowing, that froze his very blood. Presently, evert while he was deliberating about proceeding, the snow began to fall thickly, and to drift furiously. across his path. Ile foresaw that the track behind him would become obliterated, and that there was nothing for it but to. push on to where some granite walls, looking black against the snow, in the valley beneath him, proclaimed the vicinity of a farmhouse; with some little difficulty be traced his way to the house before dark, and there-found. shelter. The inmates consisted of three young far mers, their sister and two laborers. Our traveler was introduced to a deem!, bed room in which a great turf-fire was blazing, and you may be sure he congratulated him self inwardly with fervid thankfulness upon having fallen upon such hospitable quarters, instead of perishing in the snow as many a man has done in those wild parts. Ile found his host and hostess civil and oblig ing people, and after sharing theirsupper with them at the kitchen table, was not sor ry to get to bed. Having arrived in his own room, however. he found it so warm and comfortable that ho began to undress in a very leisurely man ner, and at the same time to glance curious. ly at the room and its furniture; the latter was simple enough—an enormous oak-chest, an old cabinet of drawers, and two dilapi dated chairs. Syddall began lazily to spec ulate about these things—where they came from? how they came there? how old they were? The great box especially puzzled him. lle could not divine its use; but with some vague idea that it hold the family lin en, he dismissed it from his mind; as he thought, forever. Nether it was the cider he drank for sup per, or what, I know not; but certain it was that Syddall could not sleep. Ile was rest less and feverish, and if he did snatch a doze, he suddenly jumped up again with some vague, haunting idea on his mind he could not shake off, even for the first few minutes of wakefulness. Finding sleep did not suit him, he determined to lie awake,— By and by the flickering of the fire-light up. on the old furniture recalled his attention to that—that box! What on earth could be in it? Then he recalled stories of travelers mur dered in lonely pieces on nights like this, stowed away in chests, till his hair stood on end. Then dismissing these foolish fancice from his mind, ho bent his thoughts ,reso lately on his sweetheart, but in r:ttinl Thaf box haunted him, and opened it must he, "just to relieve his mind." Getting up qui tiously, therefore, he proceeded to light hits candle and approach the chest; he faund it• fastened only by an ordinary clasp; he lifted the heavy lid quietly, and what a sight met his eyes! Horror: The dead body of n man! Wheth er Syddall's blood curdled in his veins or not, I am unable to say; but as this pheun menon almost invariably occurs on like oc casions, I should think it must then. How ever that may be, there is no doubt that Syddall was in a tremendous fright, fur the immediate prospect of being murdered i' calculated to appal any man. After a mi nute of stupefaction, being, as I have said. a bold man, he began to net, and having as certained by a glance that there was no egress by the window, he rushed to the door, but sties! there was only a common latch!-- So, placing the two chairs and the fonder against it, be sat down upon the and of the bed and gave himself op for lost. That be ing the ease, he forthwith began deliberate ly to dress himself, and prepared to meet his doom, determined with the assistance of the poker, (fool and drivelling idiot! had he not left his pistols below with the sad dle?) to sell his life at dearly as possible. The house, however. continoed noiseless —not a mouse stirred; but there sat Syddall till morning broke; and aweery, fearful watch he had of it. Whett...it was light enough, he looked out of the window and surveyed the dreary prospect, now or,e•moss of snow, white and unbroken in ell direc tions. Presently be saw all the mon (Inok ins. it must be confessed, strangely unlike murderers) leave the premises,- and over heard them sip that they wire going to look for lost cattle on the moon; and might tot be back till nightfall. - 'ow was Syddell's time. lie let'll:em got
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