V f - r - ' . - . s - V B. P. SCHWEIER, THE O0S8TTTUTI0I-THE UHOI-AID THE EFFOSOEKEIT OF THE LAVS. Editor and Proprietor. VOL. XXXIX. MIFFLINTOWN, JUNIATA COUNTY, PENNA.. WEDNESDAY.. NOVEMBER 11, ISS5. no. it; -0sigA:JsS ill gepi rl 1 The Barkv !iinT rows on rows: Sowing, to iu& ,S.IaPI a''' in scarlet dressed . O spikes of fiery GoldetM' Thou cornet wlSShgSSa1. WEDDING AXD WOQIXG. b SVrT6 of WeUJtfau oeu thrown into a great state of airi tatou and excitement by ttalrrYviKf asaanger at the White Hart Inn This in itself was likely toarouSa goi ht I. Were few anJ f" between, but what pave additional interest to tt particular case was the rumor. tlm rapidly ra-ned Rrouu;1 t0 the a thaUhe new arrival had just returned 77 nana IOL lit rtintioi- that he intended settling in Welld"a i and that it was very iike'.y he would i T , J, I115'1 a "e among the avail iiuis oi mat village. Uut it was not long before the viva cious inhabitants of Welldean came to the man had beeu a couple of davs iu ' the vnlage, it !iad been decided t.v the y the ! majority ttiat Mrs. Buniham an t i. . ' me lucky woman Mrs I'.uniham? And pruv who wai ; Nearly twenty years It-fore a time so long ago, that manv or the advocates ' of the pi-ouoso'i match date ! their at- ' pear.mce on this sublunary sphere from a more recent period ilrs. iiurnhaaj ' then Mary Ileywood, nmrried at the ! age of eighteeu, young -Frank liurn- : haru. S'.ie was a plain, klndlv r?-vi- i naurea pin, ana a general lavoiite. Uwasa handfome. r.jysterina young i fellow. Fiaak was goo i-l oking. tik-1 ui, am ciever a a gooa m;u:y ways, but liizy, iii.I il.'rent. and uiiettK;d. Alary, ou the contrary, was active. terjirtsirg, and energetic. They never j quarrelled, never had any words; but a feeling of soreness and irritation arose j between them; and after it had gone on j increiismg for a couple of years, one i day rrank, umk it into his hea I to en-: Kst, and, satisCed that his wife could I do very well for herself, determined to I relieve her of the burden of his own ! presence. At first tliev used to corns- LJ,ts tles; sl.e hitd little to tell in return. Tl eir letters became lew aud scanty, and at length the husband and wife's corresiKiudenee ceased altogether. And now, since her inarriaze, more than eighteen years had rolled away. Meantime there Lad been warsand bat ties; lSumham's regiment abroad aud come home over and over and over i a...:: Tt. T , "wT" Xll married life now seemed a very bner prvlKxle in her career, aud the long in tervening years of active industry and hnTr content hd diminished its Impor tance in her e; es. Indeed, by many of ber friends, aud especially of the youn ger ones, the fact was quite overlooked. Tliey never cave a thought to the hus band who had separated from her so ion" a"0, until the idea arose of inak ir match belween the stranger and Ms. lluraham and the stranger in the village, when the objection that she had en married, an 1 that she was igno rant as to the fate of her husband, re currel to them. "What nonsense!"' faid Mrs. I urday to a small knot of acquaintances who bad gathered round her door to discuss the project that was in the wind. Isn t it the law that if you don't see or hear from your husband for seven years, let I,"A;i.t-n vmi are at liberty to SlUlieCiB"'""' .I T1.. oln .lTiJ marry again: I'm sure o " "j - j ... "And I am sure it ought to be so, said another member of the conclave. -The "deafThe man doesn't trouble hishead about his wife for eighteen leave her to earn her own living support herself she can. Apret tr sort of a husband I thinkl' fSr questions vt a Uke nature was S intil the gossiners were pres. lilvioincd by Mrs. Buixham herself, 5 Wra bitof chat, had put ou ffiSrt shawl, W hear the last news about the sUan Well, Mrs. Furday. 1 : can g"3 tUisUr-ne,. erfy I have. u winiTwitli such bright eyes, young feUj! Ciear d;on ly he looks Mdrtedandmolancl.oly!'' so downhearted ana ..aud 'r,tIlotet "particularly were ostet?tlA TMrA Burnham." ..vrt. indeed, jf re- the plied Ellen.. a wifei he might kff2tenlionto the girls Taxf.uv-,e " ,aiv I declare uo tooKuouiv--- lu-.iastone. . i-nabt these - Ah. I very muw. - Etart an said Mrs. - with their n. L'llllW J ' nut aLoadont " mMed a an escaped m-man third- ;i said Mrs. Burn' i.n1r. ... r ...-w iioa.nl liarn, -as he? Weil, ; blacKeyes." iilacej rTKimi or I iongin uu mak( 'enough to make 1- n fflT ".tTd to hear ypu BuxBhM.'-"--: :..Wei you know U LTd he doesn't tis satisfactory to Burn. IS?? d,ta exclaimed Mrs from no - -r-io. and tneir afctta be some murderer I think of Uie time he-fi ve of it here among you alL But asformejyiu tlx fr 1 ve, 801 buaband aoinewhera ''For my part," said Mrs. Purdav Tw " ue. wefe w come UD ilnnlf , , b know that I uum answer him ham rl ' my P.art'" 631(1 Mra- Brn. twV 1 hve little interest in him in? w-ouldn't mind going and speak sng to him myself." Here she was interrupted by all the you,,,, people or the group breaking in and clamoring for her to be as good as her word and to take the first step to il m.a, nS the 8tranSe acquain ht.ti! WM evidellt. u'y said, that be wanted to make friends in the vil lage, and didn't know how to set about "I'll go and see him to-morrow mor-uln,S- s''e said, "and present him an address from the women of Welldean. X ou re not afraid to trust me then with the first chance of winning his affec tion!.? You may be sure that I shall say one word for my friends and two for myself." Meanwhile the object of all this in terest remained at the White Hart Inn, a subject of interest and curiosity to the lanulord and the household. He had been two days at Welldean, and had spent his time strolling abjut the village and the neighborhood, and in receiving visits from the parson and thh uucior. lie Was a TOod-lookin7 man ;lbo'lt forty' wlth l'r'ght eyes, a good leal otdark hair, and a face bronzed by exposure totjc suu. lie lived liber ally, enjoying the best entertainment the White Hart could afford, and said nothing about the charges. Oj the third morning after his arri val, Mr. Harwood was having his "'""""v. ucu me lauuiora appearea uie previous mormnir. in mnniro !iOW ,,is S"est had slept, and to enjoy a little mtta nlf nvtl. ft. : . if. n. ""' viian itlLlS llliu, Ail 1 . 11 ill w,,oU Wi,s verv ,eady to Iist, to him, au,i thi3 tim" had goc almost all the wames iu the village at his finger's end, 50 l,lat t,ie himllonls tittle-tattle was a l,1ilSi"t accompaniment to hismeak T!ieJ dist'osseU chielly the female 'rtlo of the community, for Mr. 'vl'gs knew tha6 his guest had mat- an.ctionate interest in their result. Mr. Kiwlings had been reviewing the points of Ellen I'ur.lay and other ciils ! and unmarried iieople of the village. A, , . . , , . , , , A,nJ wbat should you think of her MU, w "gS!' said Mr. Harwood. Kall,s 1". 1x,ked puzzled and s",t,'1 , J"3,: , , , 0 , X ,,aft110 1 .u"l'iJ.r: ""H !, Ited. " ell. I didn t think at -.mt her; I should say that she was oMer.ttaB '.ou d, car? r, sir; but if " ,uientl3a cr, I can only say, thereN no 70 7 fa rther haVe than Mrs. Buniham." And why so?" asked Mr. Harwood. :i iiv, nr, every one in wenuean ! knows Mrs. Durnham, and I don't i t:.i!:k any one lias a word tosayagainst her; a kinder soul doesn't breathe. 'Tis i a pity she ain't in the market, sir!:' Harwoid. kD;da?t you say she was a ' No. sir. I think not." was the re ply. '-Didn 1 1 ten you how sue was married at eighteen, and her husband left her to go soldieiing, and she's seen nothing ol him ever since?" 'Oh, I remeaiber," said the stranger rising from the table and going to the window. "Where does she live?" "Down the wide Laue that turns off about the middle of the High Street." replied Kiwling, pDinting in the di rection, "You can't mistake the house 'Tis a pretty little cottage, about half way down, all covered with clematis and honeysuckle." Presently the landlord bustled away to attend to his business, and left Mr. Harwood looking out of the window, considering what he should do with himself that day. Shortly, however the landlord entered, with a smile and a look of expectation, to tell him that Mrs. Buniham was waiting without, aud requested to know if he would see hMr. Harwood was greatly surprised ,h ti information, aud in no small ae- grec confused, to the surprise of the laudlord. . . Mrs Burnham entered, with a f nend lv smile illuminating her pleasant . coun- . r.:ii-rvine a small basket coyerei a snow-white nap km;, .... u-.m't think me rude or presuming, sir," said she; - ioitnr and a - 1 JW " . Wi-lldean I have taken the liberty of .)... pood name m the village. "Mr Kood, who had now recoy i nnosure. thanked her warm frCrSn and asked her to W.know"said he, "the kindness and the hospiulity of the people of ttSSSS too well, not to accept your present mThe spirit in which it is of- felhnByrouh the village?" aald Url Bu?nhm, with animation. "Prarsir did you ever live in it r" iCif you are not already pro vided with one." . t r.th. T!ie "thte Dlato speaking, 0,n you assist me in the search, Mrs. Burnham?" a vivac. "T -r JbfvUlage match-maker in Wdldean, and can i you tru5 description of her cnar SSr tempers, and manners." 40 fshe mWt be too young. Mrs. ..J".?Sid Mr. Harwood, again nurm"ui smiling- . nM or a " alked Mrs. Bernham eD'Kl don't know." said he:" am JSS man who has been knocking ESL world for many long years. ffiStSmeonewhowin care for a litUe who will make me a home, ..KJto dispose of the money f,T I have spent my life in acquiring. Kt lamlfraidmydays for romance and love are ow , Ura ;iuw . One is never too old to be Burnham. young in ipu have aotliing to Take my auvice uu do with the widows and oli? maids. The first have had their turn, and the second you may be sure are not worth having, or they'd have been picked up bsfore now. But give the young people a chance of set tling decently in life." "I feel disposed to place myself un der your direction, Mrs.- Buniham," said Mr. Harwood, laughing. "Your experience and advice would be very valuable in such an important step." "Will you, indeed?" said Mrs. Bum ham eagerly. "Come, that's right. See if I don't find you a wife that will answer all your expectations. " "And may I call aud see you, and confer with you on the subject?" asked Mr. Harwood. "OU yes, you may come," she replied "Briar Cottage, Langley Lane I I sh:ill be delighted to ses you, sir." Mrs. Burnham rose, and took her leave, well pleased with the success of her misiion. They parted very warm ly, Mr. Harwood assuring her that he should soon avail himself of her per mission to visit her. The news of Mrs. Burnhain's visit soon got wind in the village and every where she was assailed with inquiries about it. Her account of its result gave rise to various surmises. The young men were bent upon Mr. Burn ham having the stranger, and rejoiced in the way she had got to make the first advance; while the girls began to think that a man from Australia with a lot of money would really be no bad catch; and bearing how he had ac cented Mrs. Buniham as a guide and friend in the matter, they began to pay her assiduous court. Miss Truelove, who kept a millinery and trimming shop in the High Street, condemned in the most bitter terms at the same time that she was actually working her lingers off at a pair of slippers, which she purposed offering to the stranger the audacity and pre. sumption of that barefaced womn, Mrs. Burnham, in intruding upan Mr. Harwood, and introducing herse f in such an indelicate way; and Mrs. Hay ford, a well-to-do widow, expressed her horror at tho conduct of a married wo man running after strange nieu, and was convinced that Mrs. Burnham wanted an opportunity to commit big amy. Mr, Harwood soon availed nimself of the permission Mrs. Buruham had given htm to visit ber. In fact, oa the evening of the very day ou which she iiad been to see him, she had just tidied up her parlor, and seated herself at the 0en window, when he made his ap pearance, aud askel if he might come in. After this his visits became very Trequent, and he seemed greatly to en joy the privilege of dropping into Mrs. liurnnam s cottage, ilia moods, on these occasions varied greatly; some times he was merry' and light-hearted at others downcast and depressed; and sighing, would tell Mrs. Buruham ol his loneliuess and dullness, aud of his want of love aud sympathy. Mrs. Burnham administered such consolation as occurred to her, and tried toasceitam what friends and connec tions he had had before leaving Eng land and what was his native place; but on the?e points he was not comma mcative, and they only seemed to in crease his depression. Indeed, one evening when lie was in one of his de sponding mood, and was sitting in the twilight with Mrs. Burnham, unbur dening his feelings to her, his nerves were so unstrung that he actually burst into tears. But it was only occasionally he was sad and down-hearted; generally he was merry enough, anil often urged Mrs. Burnham nb'jut her promise to find him a wife His frequent visits to her soon becoming well known, the young girls of the uelgh'wrhool kept a watch on Briar Cottage and the stran gers movements: and when he was there, several would urop in quiei un expectedly on some particular business with dear Mrs. Burnham, and hence many merry evenings were spent nnder her roof. Towards Mrs. Burnham herself there was always a tenderness in his manner aud an affectionate consideration, which could not fail to make an impression upon her. In fact, she felt in a very short time this unknown stranger had gained a great hold upon her, and she often wondered if he was really serious when he wished her to recommend him a wife; and if so, how s-jlemnly she would accept tue responsibility, and how she would hope and pray for his happiness. This was when he had been sending a mirthful evening in company with many others at her cot tage; but on other occasions, when they were alone, and a quiet conversation, a glorious sunset, a starlit sky, or some awakened recollections had subdued him to his reflective and melancholy mood, then Mrs. Burnham felt as If she could resign the task of making him happy to no one, but must claim it for herself. Mr a. Burnham now began to discover that they were talking in the village about her and the stranger, and that Mr. Harwood 's visits and attentions to her afforded much topic for discussion among the widows and single ladies of a certain age. Hitherto she had not ventured to consider Mr. Harwood as an admirer of herself, but now sue discovered that others regarded him in that light. If he were really sj, she reflected, was she justified, as a married woman, in re ceiving his visits? Aud Uie perplexing doubt, arose as to whether or not she was a married woman. Was she free or not, if the stranger were to ask her to marry him, to become his wife? She pondered over this question continual ly and confessed to herself that she liked Mr. Harwood; but then it occurred to her that she had known him only a week or two. that she knew nothing of his history, and but little of his charac ter. Yet his vitits were now so fre quent that she must either forbid them or give a color to the rumors and sus picions concerning her which were rife in the village, and the conclusion that she came to was that she must discour age them. She found, also, that she could not do tills witl cut regret; never theless, she determined that it must be done, and that on the first opportunity. This opportunity was not long in ar riving. Mr. Harwood called in one evening, telling Mrs. Burnham that he hail something particular to say to her. . ... "I'm very glad you came in this evening, Mr. Harwood," she said, "for I too had something to say to you. You won't be angry witu me, will you, or think ms unkind, if 1 ask you not to come here quite so often?" "ot come here! Why not?" asked Mr. Harwood anxiously. "I'll tell you," she said; "but you must not be offended , You know what people are, and how they talk. Well, I've heard that 'tis thought I ought not to receive the visits of a gentle man " . "My' dear Mrs. Burnham. is that all?" said Mr. Haywood. some foolish tittle-tattle, gossip, scandal? I'll tell you how you may silence it all; and in deed that was my object in coming to night. You know my position, you kuow something or my character, and you Iiave shown so much of interest in me that you have offered to provide me with a wife. Mrs Burnham. will you be that wife yourself? You promised to find me one with whom I should be satisfied, then look no further, for se irch far or wide you will never rind on? that will please me halt so well as yourself." "Mr. Harwood," said Mrs. Burnham all in a tremble with surprise and emo tion, "surely you forget that I am a married woman." "No, I do not forget," said he; "but I remember also that your husband has abandoned you for eighteen years; that you don't know whether he is alive or dead , and that in any case he is as much dead to you as if you had seen him buried.' "True. Mr. Harwood," said Mrs. Burnham; "but. if he does live he is still my husband; and if be were to come home to-morrow, could I deny him?" "Yes," replied Mr. Harwood, "his long silence and neglect have divorced you from him as thoroughly as the Di vorce Court could do." "I swore to be true to him until death parted us," said Mrs. Buruham, trying to quell her inclination to accept Mr. Har wood's views; ''and how do I know that he is dead?" "Ah, Mrs, Burnham, don't torture me with excuses," said he. "Tell me at once if such u the case, that you don't care for me, that you don't think you can learn to care for me: bnt don't seek excuses. Your husband is dead, and binds you uo longer." "If I knew if I only knew it!" she exclaimed, despairingly. "But no, I have no right even to listen to your ad dresses." "Then you don't care for me?" said lie, suddenly dropping his voice to a desponding tone. ''That's the truth of it. You cannot like me. I have been nourishing a foolish hope, which turns into a dreadful disappointment; and I suppose I may return to my old, roving solitary life, instead of obtainin g a wife and a home." "You mistake me, Mr. Harwood," said Mrs. Burnham, In a faltering voice "1 respect you I like you more even than I should wish you to know, more even than I had known myself. I wish I had never seen you, or that you had thought of any one before sne." "Then tell me, Mrs. Burnham," said Mr. Harwood, earnestly, "do you still feel any affection for this husband of yours that has left you all these years? Tel! me, dees any of this feeling still linger with you, and is that your reason for refusing me?" "Mr. Harwood," she replied,"" "in eighteen years the warmest affections have time to cooL I loved my husband when he left me. but for many a year 1 have been accustomed to look upon him as dead to me, at any rate." "And you have quite forgotten him?" he asked. "I have forgotteu him," she replied. There was a slight pausej and then Mr. Itarmwl a!l- "Tll m Mrs. Burnham, that you Tlon't like me and I will be satisSed." "I can't say that Mr. Harwood," she replied; "I can't say it, and yet my un fortunate position prevents me from saying anything else.' "Then you reject me." he said; ''you cast me out upon the world again, af ter I had hoped for a happy home here. Do you refuse me positively?" "Mr. Harwood," she said, "I beg of you, don't press these questions on me. If you only knew how much I liked you, and how painful it is, yet how necessary" "Ah, no," said he, his voice sinking to one of soft entreaty as be took her hand in his and gazed earnestly in her face, "you will try and care for me a little; you won't condemn me to a life long solitude; you wili throw away all scruples for my sake. Dearest Mary will you have me?" As he said this, he still looked ear nestly in her face. Mr. Harwood's last words had a sin gular and startling effect on Mrs. Burn ham. She disengaged her hand, and drew back, looking at him with a stranee and fixed expression, losing all the color in her cheeks. Something in the words something in the voice, in the look, in the attitude sent a violent thrill through her, and she felt, as all have sometimes felt, as if a long past and almost for-, gotten scene in her life were passing ever again a man standing before ber and saying, in tones which vibrated on her memory, "Dearest Mary, will you have me?" Mr. Harwood observed the effect his words had produced, and was almost as much agitated himself. "Mrs. Burnham," he continued, In rapid and excited tones, "your husband when he left you, made a vow that he never would come back unless he were greatly altered " Before he could proceed any further, Mrs. Burnham interrupted him with a loud exclamation.' "Frank!" she almost shrieked, gazing at him with a pale face and a frighten ed look, "you are my husband!" With a flash of pleasure in his face he sprang up, and exclaiming, "Mary I" caught ber in his arms and clasped her to his breast. A few moments passed in sobs, bro ken exclamations, and inarticulate words, and then they sat down side by side at the window, and gave a free course to the tears that flowed. He sat with his arm round his wife's waist and his head leaning on ber shoulder, and a feeling of repose, after all his labors and wanderings, came over him like that of a wearied child in its moth er's arms. It was later when they were calm enough for explanations, and then he told her bow be had left the army at the expiration of his time, and gone to Australia with the resolution of mak ing money, redeeemlng his character for manliness and energy, and reclaim ing his wife and home; how he bad al ways kept this object in yiew, and how his heart had only failed him when be began to accomplish his purpose, and to arrive nearer to that return which was the object of his labors. "Why did you come as a stranger with a false name?" asked his wife; "an I why did you wait so long before discovering yourself?" "Let me confess my sins," he re plied. "You remember what I said to you a few minutes ago about absence, aud time and change? Well, it was what I had been thinking myself when I determined to come home and seek you out. I sometimes thought yon might be dead married again and that all sorts of changes had occurred. I sometimes thought yes, I'll confess it you might be so altered that I should no longer care for you, and mitrht bit terly repent rashly tying myself again to old bonds, when I was free to go and choose where and whom I UkeX But when I came as a stranger, and found that time bad only made you more loveable, Uie desire seized me to try if, as a stranger and under an assumed name, I could commend myself to you and win you over again. But ir you only knew how haid it has been to do this, and how often I have been nn the point of confessing myself to you I You must forgive me, my dear wife, for not having more confidence in you; and in deed, my punishment is great iu feelin; hew little I deserve this present happi ness in finding, after all my labors and wanderings, this peaceful refuge here," lie said, laying bis head upon tier shoul der. The news of Mr. Harwood's identity. when it cot abroad, created no little stir in Welldean. Indeed, they still relate in the village hew Frank Burn ham came home from Australia, after eighteen years of absence, so altered that his own wife didn't know him. A Ioor rreucb Ulrls BouuoM A veritauie romance in real hfe, the facts of which are vouched for by the attorney of the young lady in the case, has been developed by his efforts to prepare the way for the admission to probate of a will by which she was made joint heiress of a valuable estate uoon conditions which are now in course of fulfilment. The principal characters in the sUirv, which might be named "The Stiver King," "The Lost Heir," "A Tale of Two Cities.": or The Bomance of a Poor Young Woman," are a wealthy Wall stieet operator, a way want youUi who ran away from home and made a fortune, and a French young lady, companion to a desolate but wealthy widow. The story as related to a reiortor by John S. GriUith. a lawver, whose olnee is in the UarGeld building, No. i!C Court St Brooklyn, is as follows: In 1871 Joseph W. Walters, a New York broker, living with his wife and only son in lireen avenue, near St. James place, lirookiyn, died leaving a fortune of tlOO.000 to his widow. She was at that time about forty eight years old, and her son, Lester D. alters. was sixteen. I he boy was ot a roving disposition, and wearying of the strict discipline cf his mother s household, he resolved to leave home and seek his fortune hi the West. Having saved a little money from the allowance which Mrs. Walters gave him, he picked his trunk one day, informed his mother of his intention, and took a suddeu depar ture. His mother thought he would won tee the error or ins ways, and was prepared to kill the fatted calf as soon as the prod;gal should return. Time Kissed on and no tidmg3 of the truant were received. After a while the lone- lv widow inserted an advertisement in a New Yoik newspape.- calling for a joiing lady companion. Among those who applied for the position wai .Miss Marie Da Lacy, a young French girl who bad been brought up In Faris, and found heiself without friends in this country. She was of prepossessing ap- pearance and manner, was an accom plished reader aud conversationalist, and was a line piau sL She was en gaged, and was soon the trusted friend of the lonely occupant of the browa sloiio mansion in Greene avenue. They continued to live in this home Tor sev eral years, and then, nothing having beeu heard from young Walters, who was mourned as one dead, they went to Enrol aud sptnt two years in travel, going as far as Fulistlue. Mr.-". Walters L-ecauie stroiuly attached to the young woman, and treated" her as a daughter. I hey returned to this country, where they continued their travels. At length in 18S2 Mrs. Walters died in this city, where they were temporarily living, and left a curious wiIL " The will is at my Ufice," baid Law yer Griffith to the reporter who called upon him at his home, .So. Z'M Madison street, Brooklyn, "bat its exact terms aie nearly as follows; "I give, devise and bequeath all my property, both real and personal, of every kind and nature, wheresoever the same may be situated in trust, upon Uie following conditions: First, It is my will and intention that my friend, Marie De Lacy, after my decease, shad faithfully search for and find, if pos sible, my son, Lester D. Walter.', and if the said Lester D. Walters is unmar ried it Is my wish that he and my friend Marie De Lacy, join in the bonds of wedlock. If either my son or my friend Marie De Lacy shall not consent to said marriage, then the share herein after mentioned shall revert to the one who refuses to abide by my wish. Sec ond, if my said son, Lester D. Walters; refuses to abide by my wish, I give and devise and bequeath to hira one-quarter of my estate, both real and personal, and the remaining three-quarters I give devise and bequeath to my friend, L Marie De Lacy; and if said marriage- takes place, 1 give, devue and bequeath all my property, both real and personal to my belove dson, Lester D. Walters, and my beloved friend, Marie Do Lacy, to be divided .between! them equally, share and share alike. The exienses crowing out of the search for my son are to be paid out of my estate." Mr. Griffith said that two years ago he was mtroduced by a well-known Wall street operator and owner of silver mines in Mexico who did not wish his name to be published, to Miss De Lacy, who was living with friends In West Fifty-second street.in this city; that having learned the facts of the case, and having also teamed from a schoolmate of Mr. Walters that he was said to be in Mexico, he advertized for him in a Mexican newspaper. The advertisement was answered by Mr. WaIters,who came to this city recently. By preconcerted arrangement the lawyer took Mr. Walters to the Bijou Theatre about six weeks ago, where Miss De I-icy and Mr. Griffith's friend occupied a box. The young lady was pointed out to Mr. Walters, who fell in love wiUi her at first sight. They were introduced after the play and the party went to Delmonico's. Mr. Walters, who did not know who she was and knew nothing of the terms of the will, visited her afterward and they became engaged to be married. Then the lawyer explained the little plot to Mr. Walters by which they had been brought together and told him about the will. Mr. Walters was pleased and the wed ding soon followed. "Looking at your drawing Imbues me with an artistic fever," remarked Smyth to Miss Lulu. "I tbongbt so, it's sketching," quieUy replied Miss Lulu. Spots oa rb San, A fresh spot has appeared on the face of the sun, a very large one, humanly speaking. It measures about twenty thousand geographical miles by seven thousand. Perhaps the sun does not think it excessive, having such a broad face, and being able to accommodate a great number of pimples of the same size. But the extent sounds considera ble, all the same. Besides, there are ever so many smaller ones about the size of the earth, and, taking all to gether, we shall not'be exaggerating tho situation if we say there is "quite a rash." For much less we call the doc tor in. Indeed, we terrestial atoms could not rise to Uie dignity of such an eruption, not even if we put all our faces together and went shares in the eame spot. We talk of having "Uie measles;" nobody thinks of counUng them or asking "How many?" But they are mere pin points, dots, specks. It is very different, however, with the orb "that rules the day." Astronomers keep a register of its eruptions, and book each new "measle" as it comes. They diagnose the p enomenon, and conjecture as to its causes and results, just as the doctors do over the b.iby V red-speckled body; and, like doctors, they cannot stop the process. It must run its course, they say. Some day, perhaps, they wil prescribe for tho sun. If they already know its weight, and its temperature and constitution, why should they not find out all about its digestion and habits? Lsit temperate and addicted to a regular life? There is a good deal to be said on both sides. In a general way it is irreproachable, a modern luminary, and a pattern to everybody else, doing perennial work conscientiously and regularly. Morally, too, no fault can be found with a body which is all thing to all men answers the negro according to his blackness and never throws pearls before.swine. Early to bed and early to rise, it ought to be healthy and wise. But is it? There is another side to the sun. When it has got out of our sight, and beyond the scrutinizing vision of civilization, it conducts itself immoderately. An ex cessive warmth characterizes its con duct It blazes out, gets furiously hot over nothing. People beg the sun to keep cool, to calm itself. But tuis only seems to make it get all the hotter and ba all Uie more intolerable. From other quarters, aeain, we have very different reports. There, they tell us and Uie evidence is trustworthy, it will not show itself for weeks together. They know it is there, or thereabout1", from the reflections cast ou the sky. But, as for melting a glacier or liquefying an ice berg, no such effects are forthcoming. This gratifies polar bears, nodoubt, but cannot be styled impartial behavior. After all, the Esquimaux are human beings, which even the best of bears are not. Still, as the homely saying goes, we should take men only as we kuow. Report is liable to be biased in the tran sit or unreliable at the source. So, for ourselves, we ought to speak well of the great orb. That, It does not. as a rule, take much notice of us, and that when, as an exception, it does, we grumble, is neither here nor there. Our tempera ture is the finest in the world, our cli mate second to none, and the seccunty of our country from plague, pestileuce and famine, from drouth and flood. earthquake and hurricanes is the envy of all the inhabited earth. And for ail this we have to thank Uie sun. Lot Among Uie Blndoos. Love, according to Hindoo notions, is the subject of most of their dramas. The hero, who is generally a king and the husband of a wife or wivesTor a wife or two more or less is no encum brance in Indian plays is suddenly smitten with the charms of a lovely woman; sometimes a nymph, or, as in the case of Shakcontala, the daughter of a nymph by a mortal father. The heroine is required to be equally impress ible, but with true feminine delicacy sde locks the secret in her heart, aud keeps her lover for a long time in the agonies of suspense. The hero being reduced to a proper state of desperation is harrassed by other difllcnlties. The celestial origin of the nymph stands iu the way, or he doubts the legality cf the match, or he is hampered by the jealousy of his wives. In short, doubts, obstacles and delays make great havoc with the hero and heroine. They give way to melancholy and indulge in amor ous raphsodies. An element of life is introduced in Uie character of the Vidushaka or jes ter, who is the constant companion of the hero, and in the young maidens, who are the confidential friends of the heroine and soon become possessed ol her secret. By a curious regulation the jester is always a Brahmin, and there fore of a caste superior to the kmc him self, yet his business Is to excite mirth by being ridiculous in person, age and attire. His attempts at wit and his allusions to the pleasures of the table, of which be is a confessed votary, are absurdly contrasted with the sententi ous solemnity of the despairing hero. His clumsy interference iu the Intri gues of his friends only serves to aug ment his difficulties and occasions many an awkward dilemma. Un the other hand, the shrewdness ot tho hero ine s confidantes never seems to fail them under the most trying circum stances, while their love of fun, their girlish sympathy with the progress of the love affair, heighten the interest or the plot, and contribute not a little to vary its monotony. Thirl and l'lrate Met. Playing in Boston long ago, Uie elder Booth was seized with a sudden fancy for taking long night walks ou which he made his son accompany him. One night they started out after mid-night and for three hours walked about the docks and quays. Xot a soul did they meet uutU on their return to the hotel, they saw a dark figure following them, skulking iu the shadows of the ware bouses. Edwin was somewhat scared, but bis father stepped forward and in a loud voice said: "Good evening, my friend.' The man did not answer, but . came forward into the light and showed himself, In looks at least, a thorough ruffian. With a curse he came toward them. The old man drew himself up and asked: "Who are you, my fi lend? Who are you?- "I'm a thief, that's what 1 am," said the fellow. "And I," said Booth, In a voice of wonderful sweetness, "and I am a pirate," and he ( shook Uie astonished ruffian warmly by ' the band. The effect was electrical, Edwin Booth said, and Uie man troubled ! them no f nit her. ' Music is Uie sound which one's chil dren make as they romp through the house. Noise is the sound which o.ter people's children make under the same circumstances. . Too Bad. "OT with the saddle and shoot .-, -.t. ;t , nCnn New lork city has SOU rag-pickers. It w.is a cavalry scout of a score of There are 7i.sr5 idiots in this coun ir.e;i returning to camp after a rough . Hy. rid-.' of a hundred miles. Ten miles Texas now has (5,235 miles of rail- uwiy a trooper's horse had fallen lame, i way. Voice a-id spur had urged him on, but ! There are 11)3,000 physicians in this at l.;:-t he could go no further. He must . countrv be alundoned Aye to prevent profit A's;rvlceabIe balloon can be bought to the enemy he must be shot. ; jOT e - l'Kir Jim !" whispered the rider as , , . . he dismounted. . There are 8,000 ,000 tobacco seeds That horse had carried him a thous- j in Pound, and miles. They had gone hungry to-1 Pennsylvania has an editor ninety-tretlie-r, they had shared the dangers of , "e Kars old. "n;:f a dozen battles, they had stood Texas has shipped 4,707,97(5 head picket in company, they were "pards." J of stock since 1800. -Jim, old boy, I'd rather lose an ; The rage now in Pans is "to be arm 1 exclaimed the trooper, as he : married at midnight " lov-ened the sa Idle. ... I A new town in" Alaska is Klat-ol- T .e suffering horse, relieved of his kin , johaiiy'3 ym age." burdens, turned his head to his master iw. ei.Mmm H r, ami uttered his gratitude in a low '-r;"1,W. bPaIJ annually in whinny. fa,ar:es to base ball players. "I've got to do it. old boy," coutin- j Three-fourths of tha officers in the ned the trooper, as he drew his revol- j f,rtBlan army wear corsets, ver and held it in his right band, while Boston ha3 more social clubs than he patted the neck of his old "pard" with the left. "If they had asked me to take a bullet in the leg if a good. square sabre cut from a Johnny would save your lifo, I'd bend my bare head and take it." The last of the troop bad passed ou. Night was shutting down and guer rillas lurked in every bend ot the road. "Jim, tld pard, its orders, you know," sai l the trooier as he stripped off the bridle. "Look down the road, now, while I send a bullet into your head. It's assassination it's foul murder but it's orders. Good-bye, Jim, and may the Lord forgive mo!" The horse fell like a log at the report of the pistol, and without daring to look back at his victim the trooper snatched up the accoutrements and hurried ou after his companions. He was hardly out of sight when the horse struggled" up. What had happened? 11 ' shook his bead, wheeled about in a circle, and blew a note of alarm from his bleeding nostrils. He was abandoned ! He was in the enemy's country ! Who had done this by a faithful servant ? By and by ri:einory devinely returned. He hail fallen lame his rider had dismounted he remembered of hearing kind words an I feeling a hand caress hi3 neck. What then ? He had been shot down I S:ne hidden guerrilla must have fired the shot. His rider his old " pard'' would not have sought his death. With eyes aflame with fear and pain with a limb almost useless with such tortures racking his head that he could not repress his groans the faith ful horss searched the roadside for hia master ; if dead, lie would die with him I The search was vain. And lie had lieen abandoned ! He bad been over this road several times. He remembered every bridge and hill aud turn. It was miles to the Union lines, but he would drag himself to the pickets before death came. With slow and painful steps with the darkness rendering his road more gloomy with a foreboding that the hand which had fed him so long had given him his death wound at last, the poor beast dragged himself along, and the night wore on. Halt! Whoevmes there?" It was the challengeof a picket. His quick ear had detected the sound or Teet on the highway. "Here at last! This was the goal the beast had striven for. lie stood stock still as the challenge reached hi ear, but only for a moment. Then sum moning his last remaining life, he rush ed down the hill and full at the picket. "II. 1 I Haiti Turn out the cuardl" It was too late to stop the iiderless, limping hoise outside the lines, but as he passed within them half a dozen car bines blazed forth in the darkness, and he fell forward and died without a groan. The men of the picket gather ed around. They understood that it was an abandoned horse, which liad dialed himself into the lines. "Too bad, isn't it?" whispered Uie grim old sergeant. And every mau felt lie was almost guilty of murder. A l'lc:urj from t-ouiMil. An important painting has been found in 1'oinpeii, and placed in the Naples Museum among the Pompeian frescvies. It represents the judgment of Sjlomon, aud is the first picture on a sacred ; ubject, the first fragment either ot Judaism or Christianity, that has leen d:scovered In the buried cities. The picture is 2 feet long and It) inches in height, aud is surrounded by a black line about an inch iu width. The scene Is laid upon a terrace in front of a house adorned with creeping plants aud sha ded with a white awning. On a dais (represented as being about four feet high) sits the King, holding a scepter and robed in n hite. Oil each side of him sits a councillor, and behind them six soldiers under arms. The King is represented is leaning over the front of the dais toward a woman in a green robe, who kneeU berore him with dis heveled hair and outstretched hands. In the centre of the court is a three legged table, like a butcher's bhick, upon which lies an infant, who is held in a recumbent position, in spite of his struggles, by a woman wearing a tur ban. A soldier in armor, and wearing a helmet with a long red plume, holds the legs of the infant, and is about to cleave it in two with his falchion. A group of spectators completes the pic ture, which contains in all nineteen figures. The drawing is roor, but the colors a;e particularly bright, and the preservation is excellent. As a work of art, it is below the avenge Pom peian standard, but it is full of spirit aud drawn with great ireedom. X ne bodies of the figures are dwarfed, and their heads (out of all proportion) large, which gives color to the assertion that it was intended for a caricature direc ted against the Jews and their religion. This may be so, but my own impression is that the artist was anxious to devel op the facial expression, and to do this exaggerated the beads. There is noth ing of the caricature about it in other respects the agony of the kneeling mother, the attention of Uie listening king, and the triumph of the second woman who gloats over Uie division of Uie child are all manifest, and to my mind there is no attempt, intentionally, to burlesque the Incident; but this is a matter of opinion. A Roman editor has been fined and imprisoned for blackmailing artists. If be wasn't paid hush money he knocked their landscape skies Into a cocked bat and pointed out Uie fact that their sunsets were in the east and north. . r NEWS IX BRIEF j any other city in this co intry. Mitchell. Iak.. with a po population of 3,UW) has twenty-three lawyers. Forty -one counties in West Virgi nia prohibit the sale or intoxicants. Fifteen cigarette factories have been started lately in the City of Mex ico. Louise Michel, who is stil! in prison, it at work on a novel as well as a his tory. In California, last year, 880,000 pounds of salt were extracted from sea water. King Ludwig of Bavaria thrashes the dentist every time he has a tooth pulled. The government envelope factory at Hartford, Conn , uses a ton of gum a weeK. The cost or the epidemic or small pox at Montreal is likely to reach $.", (X 0,000. A California lion was killed by a large dog near Grass Valley, Colorado, last week. It is estimated that the peanut crop or the South this year will be worth S-'l.OOO.OOO. Texas makes highway robliery pun ishable by an imprisonment or not less than ten years. A young Itwell, Mass.. house keeper claims to feed seven people well nu J J. a mouth. New York city, it is reiorted, has 4o,iiO persons who depend on gambling Tor a livelihood. Green County, Wis., is credited with having no less than i$ Limburger i-luese factories. The Peninsula peach orchards is said to have yielded alioiit 3,000,000 bu.-hels this season. There are fifty illicit distilleries and onlv three licensed ones in one district in North Carolina. About one-sixteenth of the eight miles of the Cape Cod ship canal is practically completed. . Minnesota, Michigan and Maino have substituted capital punishment tor Imprisonment for life. No less a person than William Shakespeare Is playing a leading role in a new tragedy at Hanover. Truth is stranger than a "woolly horse." A Syracuse man has a bull "with fleece of curly wool." One of the curiosities at the White Sulphur Springs is a iet who wears buttons on his vest which cost clti eacii. The number of cotton mills in the southern states h.is increased from ISO, four years ago, to at the present time. A leper was found among the Chi nese passengere that reached Victoria, B. C, on the Queen of the Pacific, re cently. A recent reiort from the Minister of Public Instruction shows that there are 100,000 rnhlic school teachers In France. Faer is now used for the manu facture of bottles, large numbers of which are made by both Germany and Austria. The former estimate of S:2oC,000 for the Bartholdi pedestal is now known, to have been too low. .$'500,000 will be uteded. George Eliot's "Adam Bede" is being dramatized, and the adaptation will be produced both In England and America. At tho present rate, it would take the Supreme Court or the United States l. years to get through the cases on the calendar. The boll worm has made its app.r ance in the cotton belt or Alabama, r.ud it is said Uie crops will be cut off at ieast 2o per cent. Julio Santos, the Ameiicar. citizen, who has been unjustly imprisoned for months by the authorities of Ecuador, lias Deen set iree. An Ohio Postmaster's name Is Emancipation Proclamation Cogswell. He was born on the day the proclama tion was issued. The lowest death rate ever recorded in London was that of the second week in September, when it was but 1.1. 0 per 1,C00 of population. There is a new island alxiut ::X feet long in tho Hudson a few miles betow Albany, which boatmen say will serious ly obstruct navigation. The Kona coffew of Hawaii is said to take a peculiar flavor from the soil, a delicious rich sweetness equaling if not surpassing the Mocha. The brokers of Mark Lane, Loudon, say that peoplo want 20 per cent, more bread when the weather is cold than when it is mild and muggy. Thomas Moflitt, who was supposed to have been killed iu the war, now turns up a wealthy land owner in Mex ico, with 10,000 head of catt e. The largest aud finest piece of plate glass ever uiade iu this country has just been fiulshed at Jeffersouville, I rid., measuring 8 leet S inches by 17 feet. During the past twelvo months 650,000 pounds of unwholesome and adulterated teas have been seized and condemned at the port of New York. The "Bolselas" of an encampment of gypsies, near Clereland, was recently scouring that city for one oi its gay youth, with whom Uie "qwren" of Uie band has eloped. There are about Sl.OXi.OOO.OOO kept hi Wall street and vicinity, mostly In the vaults of safe deposit companies. These storing places are made as thor oughly fire and burglar-proof as possible, and have armed watchmen in the room upon which they open, and others u the streets in front. i V .1 I i j i.- jurnhaui- , i . - , - -v - - . .. " " " """
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers