r THE POTTER JOURNAL AXD jno. S. Wann. e . UEWS ITEM. ~ - ■ BE KM, NO. 17. i'fte POTTEP. JOURNAL AND . E v FCKV WBDXESDAT AT R0 lI)EBSPOBT, L'A. * pu^isher. Jv . r - I t>el McCLARY. -!>-, c J cu r TIS. Rtornf j at Li" :hH W' ,rt . , M N r'-Nininif to hi* profession. tj I.'ILV'L I' l I*'. 'H'LI '!!>. ART**** K. M \ NN JOHN S OANN N SON. ,N, F RS at Law A4 COTTTPJABPERS, , . v ii-ti I ' Arthnr 3. M inn. , • I. • ... A.• *l7 BOllC* s. S. GREENMAN. V F •.."•*' si .) < I-.:-;-'IS:T. PKN N'A. (■-..-I .q O* an J !i:*:iraiice .\sc nt Ho'jfe, P.VIIVN V K' t.I T. f ' V - rm-r (•' Si ONUainl (AM Stie-I*. (oi I>! !>!'' 'I;T. L'K N \. [ . atli-i ' i> I " t > ••ii - • ••:• 1 • ■•' '• ■ ..I '.f I Lcvy'fvl!ln Hc^e!. i.rr f MA : \ ami MMITII Mreet*. U:WI*VM.I.I . T\. V -• H- TIT;;• ::• D. JOHN 3. PEARSALL, PAINTER, < • ! DEKSPoRT. P v. ; ; -j-:-'. 1 tin 1 c :ar- I T : - ■ I . THOMPSON & MANN. P r-. Medicine*, Book*. Matinnerv. II - P-.1 rs PIL C V.-L" = R'Er. L.. | " DKRM'i >RT. PA. S. F HAMILTON. pOI( USD JOB PRINTER I ' M 1 .1 • 1 'd 7 /' 1 - •7. I ' DER sPORT. PA. ] D J CROWELL, I k 3a". Johterkß ltinjMachine. I v' ;|i>MN(.. i uncron • <■.. I'a. | j. r j sin.\ alEma <iu sr. t . . m.. an G*n-r.i Conin Vv >rV T T *ll A A WLI U HI4 I oi!S <A . si !1 . omental, Hrrorativc Jrcsro r I'A I NTER , c OUDERSPORT, PA. ,!S|N ' .1.1 l\i'"Eß HANGING (lone | neatness and dippetch. 1 ia • .into. (1. ,V ' lsv -Kr.i; 1101 si: Irj " •I 1.M.. 1- J . .*; G E FACTORY, c. BP.EUNLE. 1 X 'Li I. K <> 1< K , ' PA C *•I'LMOMI, cte.,(IKLM TITRTW, I I ' •;•• • oi't work.maai.titp, on j r ■•n*-. '-inroticoi Jorn I • x *;,! priwnpt tor.tlon- | I From the Hearth auil Home.] Boug-ht with a Price. CHAPTF.K T. 1 ite elx-k over the parlor mantel shelf struck six sharp and clear. The tire blazed up with a cheerful glow 011 brightly tinted carpet and cur tain*. 011 old fashioned handsome furniture, on the little tea-table laid for one. with a big bowl of flowers in the middle—rare delicate blo>.soms most of tliens—and, pushed into a corner, a shabby little .bunch of monthly roses. A prettv, bright, womanly room; books were scat tered about and bits of needle-work. A piano stood open opposite the window, with a canterbury overflow ing with music by the side. A tiny black dog, ill ears and hair, lay 011 the rug. and over all the firelight flashed warmly. "Mi-s Hugo i* not in, sir. It's past her time though; would vou like to wait, sirU' asked the servant. "Yes, 1 ana leaving Waitham. Thank you." Mr. Briton answered, as the woman showed him into the tire-lit parlor. >ne bustled away to get candles.' The visitor, hardly answering Hollo's joy oll • greeting leaned against the chimney-piece pushing back his thick bmwn hair with one hand. The lire - blazed and crackled, shining over the strir-cht dark figures, the grave, manly face.the steadfast eyes. "Tick, tick, tick." went the clock, steadily, -l-.wly, like the pulse* of fate. The e.Oidle* ivi re bi\>u g it and put on the t:\bie. one each -ide of tli>- big round iiowi of flow* i >. : **Chime,chiuifc, v rang tin quarter! from ..in.* church tower across the | road. Mr. Briton started and went *0 "in wind" V . p'.l-llMig • i.u rv the I thick crimson curtains. Very still! and (piiet was it <>ut of doors. The . a - over the g r h n gate iiardly ujoVi d one graceful branch in the I night air, the old church opjxhiite, 1 Iwith its graveyard mood it. robei grax anii beautiful in the young ino>nli_i.t. Over tiie moor b-.yn l t!ie white road wound away to Waitham. Slow-. i\ along this road came two dark figures loitering in the autumn night. Mr. lb. ion dropped tin* curtain and C.tliie ' vi'-k Tot:. liIV-ide. "Tick, tick." went the clock; it, seem. 1 to wiii-pcr to him, "False, fa He. I'al>i. as the garden gate swung back under the dark boughs. " Well, good-by ; 1 *!ia!l see y- il to-morrow. How long it will -eein! ' "Nonsense!" aiisweud Miss Hu go'* gay full voice. "Don't talk to me like that! flood-by." She wav.-d iter hand playfully and i went *wit'tly up the little j-ath. il< r old servant nn t her at tiie door. "Mr. Briton is in there, Miss Mil dred." The young lady raised her straight, • lark brows in calm *urpri*e. S!ie threw her sliawl and hat off ha*tily. smoothing back her curiy liuir wjtli both hand* and went soitly into tiie littie jiarior. ••1 hope Hullo has entertained 1 you," *iie said, with a bewitching smile; "t .is is an unexpected pleas ure. Mr. Briton " "I am come to say 'good-by,' Miss , Hugo." he answered gravely. "What a disagreeai le word. on really won't re.urn after the holi days. then "That depends upon eircumstan-1 ces. I have had an otl'er from Mrs. Harold. She wishes me to travel with her son during the next twelve months." "And then?'' she said, looking up at him. "I haven't decided. I have my fellowship and I think 1 shall take ul'iei *." "Hour fellow!" "1 don't know why you should pity nn. . A- a fell* wot my college, i s,.ail • t a living sometime, and i don't kn.'W ;i happier life, if one ought to Like that as a test. "1 hope you will be a bishop, Mr. Briton." "Oil, don't! 1 wouldn't IK? for the world,"said toe young man, hastily ; "j am not at ail ambitious. "liow we should quarrel. she answered, smiling. "1 would make i you ambitious, whether you liked it or not." "Will you try?" be- returned, com-■ j ing a step rearer across the rug. COUDERSPORT, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 12,1873. "1 am tired of teaching," was her answer. "I won't have you for a pu pil." • 1 would be very good," he said, in a low voice. "No, you wouldn't; you know you wouldn't. You are too fond of teaching to learn." "Listen to me. please," he urged. "I won't listen. I know what you are going to say and it is better left unsaid. Will you have a cup of tea? 1 will call auntie down to propiti ate the proprieties." "1 don't want any tea. I am not going to le treated pol'telv bv vou, Mildred." "I am not going to treat you JK> litely." she said, as *he came back to the rug. laughing "don't be frightened." She stood opposite, still laughing. In r beautiful face dimpling and sparkling. "Mildred," said Mr. Briton,"l will speak." "No. you won't, (jo with Fred Harold on to the Continent lor twi lve moth*, and I'll stay here try ing to make my. pupil* understand what niu*ie mean-. When you come back I will listen to you and shall be able to answer." "Now. Mildred " "No. And you musn't call me' Mildred. *ir. Do as I till you, as an • earnest of good behavior in future." t "1 may never come back—l may die abroad." u ßrquiscat in jxice. You can't make nie <erious, Mr. !biton. You will come back wedded to some ai '.ruling Italian woman." "Vi rv lik< 1\ In- said, bitterlv. . "Certainly it 1*; or 1 may many some redi.ain d Herman prolV asor. I won't answer for inysvlf." "Or }H'ihaps " Mr. Briton did not ti 11 i*ii iii* sentence. lie Ixnt down to pull Hollo's ears and did not see the dull tiu*u that covered ! Mildred's face. i "Don't VOU tiiink we have talked! enough?" *he *ael. "J want my tea. and 1 am tired." "Well 1 will go; I shan't see you again, Mildred. Harold will join me in London if 1 go with him." "(joo -by, then; 1 shall miss your; voice in choir, Mr. Hiiton—l in i>e v-iur successor in the school will nave a gool tenor." lie held her j iiaml a* *i.e -poke. "Twelvemonth* is along time,"! be -aid. "Give me something that! w .11 be a link with llite happy ' i "l o keep my liiemoiv green.: Have one of these tioweis. Take' y our clu i'-e." "No: give me one." Sin drew the bowl towards her. "These geraniums are to bright; for \oiir present tate of mind. I am ' afraid. You don't like IK ! itrojxs !' j What bad taste! Will you hare one J of these roses?—thev arc half dead,, though." "Never mind—l" like them lx-tri Thev have grown ill the air and the j sunshine." "There then; ahd now you really, must go." She went to the door! with him. bidding him goob-bv with! !, | a gay smile. "i shall come back," were his last : ' words, "in twelve moths. Mildred." "Dollv. will vou bring mo in the! tea? A untie has had hers, I sup-. lH_.se?" ••Yes, Miss Mildred. lias he; .gone?" . | "Of course he has, you foolish old j woman! Make the tea strong, Dolly. , I'm awfully hungry." j Hollo consumed must of the bread j and butter however. Miss Hugo sat down ou her low chair by the lire. • drinking her tea and thinking—not j of Mr. Briton altogether-—of soine : i>odv else, who had walked home with her in the starlight that even ing, after she had given hi* sisters tiiei 1 nui-ic lesson*; of the contempt of tbose sisters for the musie-mis i tres*: of the fact that the stately man*ion was their home only till : their brother married, when they must go I.a to the dismal little house in tiie Lancashire fens; of a certain fair, proud woman who made Mildred's hard life harder still by covert insults. ."She was thinking of all these tilings as she drank her tea. j and fed Hollo with the bread and ! butter. ( Holly cane* in n-j carried off UneU tea-tray. Hollo went to sleep, an l Mildred got up to go to her aunt's room. The rest of the bunch of roses was lying on the ground. She picked them up, hot tears aching in her eyes. "Boor little tiling*!" she said, touching the withered jxtals with her dry. feverish lips. "I wonder what will be the end." CH.CPTEK n. Tiie twilight of the m-xt day was gathering a* Miss Hugo come out of the gates of the great house with a roll of music in her hand and walked -wiftly towards home. A dark, tall figure followed her. gaining rapidly on her foot*tep*. She stopped wait ing for hirn to come up. "Fred. I can't have this; vou mustn t do it.' "Why not," he asked eagerly. "1 am going away with Briton next week you know; don't make me any more miserable than I am." "It's very foolish," and she let him walk on at her side, talking to her in 1 hippy, broken sentences. "In twelve months I shall le my' own master, when I come back from ; rliat batel'ul Continent, and then we'll get married, c-h, Mildred?" ( "I don't know." "You wouldn't have the heart to iil'i lue now . Mildred ?" She stoppe 1, her face flushing, her ! voice hot an l orokert. "Mr. Harold, understand plainly thtre i* no engagement between u*.' 1 will not be bound in any way." He tried to speak, but she went on- ! "1 don't care for you—you know I , don't. 1 wish you would go home— j you make me very uncomfortable." "1 lx*g your pardon. Don't Ik? ero**. Mildred. Of course I know I you can't care for me as 1 do for you bin 1 am sure that 1 can make you ! happy." j Tli y had reached the garden gale I Lv thi* time and Mildred lent back on it to an*wer inui. "People can be very wicked for' three thousand a year. Fred." "Perhaps so—what do you mean ?" j "Has it never struck you that you are tempting me very much, even it 1 eared for anybody else—l have to woik hard for my living and you w ill be a rich man." 1 never thought of it like that." he an*wered simply. "J have too much faith iii you. Mildred to think you would marry me for my money. I 1 know you wouldn't, dear." "It would be very pleasant—very pleasant to marry you and for your *i*ti rs to go back to Lancashire." j "I would make everything pleasant ; to you, if you would many me, Mil dred." There was a moment'* silence be tween the two. The night wind whispered in the boughs above them, the quiet moonlight fell on the churchyard and the sibnt fields. Suddenly , with a gesture of pain, as though she tore something from her heart and ca&t it down, Mildred an swered—"l will marry you, Fred." j He would have cla*ped her in his arms, but she stepped back, shutting the gate between them. "Go now. lam tired, and 1 have I to practice the organ for to-morrow." 1 "When shall 1 see vou again?" he! 1 asked eagerly. "1 don't know. Oh! I ant so tired.! Why won't you go?" "I am going. Good-by, clear." She : went up the path and left him. In the little parlor the tire burnt j brightly—Kollo sprang up to meet 1 her wagging his tail in ecstacies of joy. She took him up in her arms as if the touch of some warm living thing could cease the throbbing of her heart. '•Bought with a price." The words were echoing in her thoughts as she laid her blow on the cold chimney-1 piece, with a strange sudden memory of whose arm had rested there the : night before. CHAPTSR 111. The Sunday morning dawned bright and clear. Mildred was up early— she was organist at the church oppo site. and generally practiced a little lx'fore the service Ixgan. With her ' music in her hand she came across the road and opened the wicket by the large gate. A Ldl figure standing in the shad ow the porch. In dull surprise Mil-| died found herself shaking hands with Mr. Briton. "I came clown this morning. 1 could not resist the temptation of spm iing another Sunday here and I have some new* to tell you, Mildred." She sat down on the porch seat, hardly speaking. "I am *0 happy," he said eagerlv, "I came straight down here to speak to you. Miidred, you won't be so cruel to-day. I love you dearly. "Hu*h." -she said, picking up her music and smoothing out the leaves with trembling hands, "You musn't speak to me like that—l have never given you any right to do so." . "Mildred ! " "I haven't." she returned in a sti ! fled voice, "1 am very sorry, but " "What do yon mean?" he ask-d sternly. "1 am engaged." she said aim *i : in a whisper "Why do you look at rue like that ? I have done 110 more j than girls do everv da v." 1 He took her music from her trein , blmg fingers in bis tight clasp. "What do vou mean?" he a*k. I I harshly. "What are you talking 1 about. Mildred?" By a violent effort she regained her calmness and ; stood up. "1 am engaged." *ln- -aid—hi* look forced her to add despite h. r*elf, "to | Fred Harold." j A look of the most intense eou jtempi and di*gn*t crossed his face.! i "A worthy rival," he s- 4 id scorn fully. "It ha* half cured my love i for you to know you would choose a thing like that, with no in.lll of hi* own." Hi* anger and disdain had made lier quite calm again. "We won't discuss his character," *hi said. "Can't vie be friends -till;! Mr. Briton ?" "Friend*!" lie repeated, without touching her hand, "you aiv a strange woman. Mi** Hugo, to think that I can feel any friendship for you." "I am very sorry—won't you tell nie your new*? 1 shall be *0 glad tola-ai you have prospered in any thing." Her manner was *0 *iinp! -' and unati'ected that it *ofteu-d him. "I f it had only come a week ago it might, perhaps, hare made a dirt': t enee with you." he answered. "The j chancery >uit that ha* been an heir loom in our family i* finished nio*t unexpectedly, and the lawyer* havi kindly left two thousand a year, which belongs. I am tuid, t<> me." Mildred did not sieak—-he leant back against the porch, looking aero** at her home with eves that saw not. "It might have made a difference to you Mildred." he said bitterly, "you have ruined my life and yours." "Not your life," she said tremu lously. "there i* plenty of happiness 1 for you yet." "l'erhaps *O." he answered. Liking his la*t look at her *w i t face. "Good-by. Tt is no use to say ; any more, I 'she said, raking up ln*r • music and passing up the stair* to the organ loft. He did not attempt j 1 to follow or speak to her. He sat ; down on the porch scat for a moment i ' and then went back to the town. It i was years before Mildred saw him i again. * * * * Mr. Briton did not g" to the ( on- i tinent after all with Fred. He went off by himself on a scientific tour to i Central America and Mr. Harold de parted on his travels, accompanied by his mother and sister* and hi* 1 cousin Adela, a young lady whom it : was his duty as the head of the fam- 1 iiy to marry. He had a long talk with Mildred i before he went. "We must wait twelve moutli*," ; he said, "and then I shaii be my own master. 1 can't tell the mater —*hu i would make me marry Adela." i "You had better do so," *aid Mil- > dred, scornfully. Site was beginning to hate her position, to despise weak, * good-natured Fred. "Wi 11, it'* almo.*t a pity," he an- • swered, smiling. "1 haven't managed to fall in love with her; it would i have joined tiie estates so nicely. 1 can fancy the ma'er's rage when she 1 finds out 1 have chosen you. But you are worth a thousand Adelas. < Mildred dear. 1 shall be proud of ! my wife." t Fred went nbrod wivb his family D party aud the old roun i of life went ,011 for Mildred. The w inter p;'*- l and the bright summer, with no change but the death of Mildred'* aunt. They had never loved each 'other much, but Mildred felt lonelier still without her. In the early autumn came a "letter to the cottage from Mrs. Harold. "My sou .ell* me." the letter ran, "that tin.re ha* been something like an engagement between you and him; I don't wish to write about the un worthine** of your conduct—that i* all past and gone. 1 am merely obeying my son's wi*he* in address ing you. He is to be married to morrow to Miss Adela Bremer, an 1 he hope* you thought no more of hi* word* than he did of your.*." The letter all through was in the same strin. trampling Milly'- pride into the du-t —a bilt r puni-hm nt. ♦ CH VI'TKU IY, AND I VST. Four years had passed since Mil dred left Waitham. heart-sick of the place—four dreary year* of life a* a governess, partly in a school, partlv in the family *ln- wa* with n >w. Her pupils —three little romping children, who had !>eoit jilaying at a little dis j tance on the *.tn i came runiiing up with *ome jircttv *hell*. "Look, Mi** Hugo, we are going J to take them horn •to mamma." >ln an*vve'.v I tin 111 pi a sail t!y—the eliild , ren seeme<l 11 r only friends ju*t now. "\\ e had !letter go back," *iie said, taking little Arthur's hand. The little It:;Sia 11 v i!];.gi* to which the fam ily had eoinc for the winter on ac count of Mr*. Wilson'* health, was about a mile from the sea. She was; waiting for In r governe** at the top ' of the broad sL j>* that I d to the) house. "I thought you were never coming back. I* it wise to take the children j so far, Mi-* Hugo? "They like the sea," returned Mil dred. "Ah! 1 am afraid you *poil them:! but 1 am glad vou are come home. We exjM-et visitor* and there i- no thing lv adv. Would you mind In !p-j ing Marie a litriie. Mi** Hugo? Fllen ' has a bad headache and is lying down." , "Certainly." said Mildn I ph-a*ant- ' ly. She was tired already, but she busied herself all the afternoon dust ing an 1 arranging and giv ing order* to the Italian *t 1 vant*. Evening came, and the vi*itor*.! Mr. Wii*on"* brother and sister-in- ; law and a tall, bearded friend of their*, vvlie'in Mildred bowed to in the lamp-light and did not revognizt until bespoke. Had be recognized her? Mildred e mid n-.r tell. H. !iad chatted all the evening to Mr*., Wil*ou and her ih uglitcr Ellen, whib tiie governe** *at iy the table witii her work. e:i* ; .iug rare glance* at t! • , dark, pleasant face, so much older and sadder. 1 Mil 1 red li.ad thought over and over I again what their me-ting might !.k like if they ever m-.i again. She had never fancied it like thi-*. without n look of recognition from the dark eyes that hud sought hers so often once. Next morning before dawn Ellen Wilson came into Mildred's room. "Will you get up? We are going 1 to *pend the day among the hills and mamma wi.-lic* trio children to go. Will you mind helping me to pack?" , It was a radiant day, without a breath of autumn coldness in the air. Mildred was tired before she started and the children wearied her at every step. She sat down at last, utterly unable to go any further. The others were on ahead, laugh ing and talking. Mr. Briton walking 1 reside Ellen and making himself veiy agreeable. "I wonder where Mi** Hugo can be?" asked Mi.** Wilson, at last, miss ing the governess. "Those children will surely fall over the rocks." "Miss Hugo?" said her companion. "Is that the la ty's name?" "1 1-*. our governess. Where can sh • be?" "She"* tired." said .rin-ie, "and she is sitting down behind with Arthur." . "I wii! go back," said Mr. Briton, turning eagerly. "Don't trouble, Mr. Briton." ex claimed Ellen, loth to lose her cava lier, but he had already hastened down the gra*sy slope. Re had not recog nized Mil lred ; indeed he h3d hardly ! $1.75 A YEAR 1" •ke-1 :; her. for >!;e was chang. I very much. but the name roused his curiosity, Perhaps it might He came down the grass slope until he reached the little 'hollow where Mildred sat re-tiny with A - , Thur sound asleep at her side. .Sim Was lyings back again-; a tree, look ing down*on the warm blue sea. Imr lip- trembling with silent pain. Mr. Briton lingered a moment—he knew her now. and; looking at her, he Saw she had suffered even nor than he had. -I am afraid you are tired," h<- said, coming forward hastilv. She ros<. quite e. lm an I sell pos se-sod. "1 am a little. J'oor little Arthur i ha- iallon last a-ieep." and she turned away, bending over the child. u Don't wake him."-aid Mr. Briton, tou<-!ii'. g her and : "let hiiu sleep while he can. Id i- a pilv we can" ; all be children." "It is a pity." She s.,id nothing • more, bat looked straight away oat on to the sea. i The -ilenee grew in titrable af ei a moment, yet Mi. Britou hardly* knew hov, to break it. j In a-u hieii thought .he took from hi- pocket-book a folded paper. In ,-ide. Care full; wrapped awav. was a little £ided rose. He came to lier -,i<i 1 and touched her bent bend to make her look at him. "Ho you reniemlh r tiiis ?" he said. '*l iiav- k j<* it e\ r -inee. yj v love |is as fresh as ever. Shall we forget .• n<i loi _; x * all that is sad in ;he auld iang -\ sic .'" Mi in voices eaine from the hill, : -oiindiiig closer re r\ moment. M e .-hall be interrupted in a ino | ment," i c said. "Tell me, Mildred. -ha!i I k rp th;> r>- or throw it a ..*u\ f" i "Keep it." she whi-j>. red, still i hitmg her f. <• : . (lK | a> \j, Briton ; ut his flow, r back, Kllen an 1 ■ a-, osners ripp.;.;.*! at tin top ~| the hollow. Mildred's punishment was over at last. She had more than her deserts after all in the i ti'.iiul low of the mail sir !;; V! I • 7 ; i Veil ill their happ; w. d ied life I, **< r memories had "it ir place, though unspoken. J They could neither of them forget , t hat Mildred had one 1 been "Hot OUT WITH V I'RU i."—J. A'., in //.<* Fam ily 11 r i ■/. AN* l.'ngli-h scientist k..- discov red a faei imp..riant to fanner-. It that sulphiteot i.:m appears tocx . teise ad' influence in arresting the spread of decay in potatoes af* fected by tin potato disease. In one experiment the -ait was dusted over -• one tubers partly decayed from this eaase, when they were stowed away. Some mouths afterwards the pota toes were found to have su tiered no further injury. Tiii I>UOR I' M.OI K HD.—Some time since 1 wished to enter a strange church with a minister a little lie fore the time for service.* We procured a key. but tried in vain to unlock the outside door with it. We concluded we had the wrong key and sent to the janitor for the right one. But he came and told u the door was al ready unlocked. All we had to do was to push, and the door would open. Me thought ourselves luck*d out, when there was nothing to biu der us from entering. In the same way we fad to enter into love and fellowship with God. I he door, wv think, is locked against us. We try to fit some key of extra ordinary faith to open it. We tiv to get our minds wrought up to some high pitch of feeding. Me sn\."l have tin* wrong key; I must feel more sorry; I iDii-t weep more." And all the time the door is read; to open if w. come boldly, with humble eai nest no-- to th< i rone of grace. Me ma; ente i f: e ly. at once, with out !a\ nig to uulock the door. Christ is the door, aud his heart, is not shut against u>. We must enter without, -topping to tit oi r key of studied faith, for liis mercy is nor. locked up. M e mml enter boldly, trustingly, c-'t doubting His readi ness to receive u- "just as we are." He i- willing already, and we must, not -top to make Him willing by our prayers or tears.—s. si. Gmi.
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