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': ; . ~- , 2 .....: _,. ---.. • ".. - ,'! ,,• ""'"-,.•7--- ~.,...- ' ':4P C''''''' ' ' ''''' . . . . • - . ...r..........r......---,.....—:;-- • ___ Y HAWLEY &CRUSER • 'The Regret.i I sit by my open window, ' Looking toward , the sea, With a heavy heart, and 'a :mute regret, That a •day came round when Nle ever met, But alas I it was to be. Far over the waste of waters I see by • the aid of my. glass, A. ship in full sail, the same as of old, • But now with the freikht there's.a bride I'm told, . Oh, why did it , eorne to pass ? Cannot the wind and the roaring surf Sending their breakert in, ' ReTeal her fair face and chant me her years, And whether she lives in smiles or in tears, ° ' • I would not count it a sin. I know it should matter little, To ,hear of this bride of a day. Let her face be ever so plain or fair, Sunny;ok sad, Oh, why 'should 1 care I In the ship that sails away. For me his asking is over, • The captain's in truth gone by, The longed for "yes"' has been asket twice in vain, 1 ! "I said you must wait; t 11 in por \ again, And please : do not ask me hy.',' Why it waits, and who shall say, (While I give a ,broli?ri sigh t ? That love was less than pride, whose Row er Controlled my heart in a fatal hour, And so the ship sailed by. AVENGED. 44 EAR AUDLEY,dwiII you, always D love me ?". And the beautiful ques tioner, glanced - pleadingly into Audley Wilford's fickle, but fascinating Counte nance. That gentleman took the,pretty girlish face between his' hands, and kissed the rosy lips for his answer. 7 hen, speaking with lover like fervor, he said : "Noth ing in this world will ever change' me ; absence will but prove how deep and un - = fathomable is the love I hear for you; my Ellen ; and were it MA I for my uncle, .I would not leave you, but his will must be my law." "Cannot you take me with you, AUd.• ley ?" 'Nay, Ellen. Sister Pessie will love you as a sister, and on my returnlrom this mission of my uncle's, I be Frond and happy to claim you before the whole world. Long the lovers conversed, \ till the shades of night closed over the earth,and then, leaving Ellen Pevton in tears, Audley. Wilford started for his uncle's mansion. . Audley WillOrd wai the - nephew of wealthy Sir Vere. That , gentleman had adopted him when a child,-had educated him, and now wished him Ito go to India to tran s act some business, and visit places of note for. his' own (Audley's) sake. Audley, not vet 23 years of age,. gay, social, anc: fickle, only top readilraccept ed hie uncle's handsome Offer, forgetting that he was in love with the iirlish Ellen, and only recalled to it by aeeing her at his sister Bessie's. Then ensued the con= versation given at the commencement of this sketch. Three yearo later; Sir'Vere Wilford sat in his Beesie's :parlor, holding Eilen's band in his own. I : , ."Tell me, Ellen, the ' name of this' fel low,,and I will chastise him ?" exclaimed the irate Baronet, is he - listened to the recital of her desertion. ; • "You must brotinse, sir, never to men tion it agaiii, and to - leive : his tate in my handsr . l "I will ; promise anything:dear Ellen,. if you will be my cherished wife. And the man of 40, hatillsorne, stately, alai good, t4t her little hand and pressed it itypectfuly to his lip., j 1, "Wit you be content with my respect, Sir Vere ?, ,_.9h,, believe me, 1 can never lure anyone as I loved him.",, "1 will accept your respect, if yotk - vFill tell me`if:Whom van ~love ii. liVing 'or atlid." 1 , '1 - "Dead t,o mer was the low- : nreathed lenly. Then she raised her beautiful eyes to meet his gaze of reverent . love, be:lin ing upon her. - . ' It was a sudden 'engagement, and sixd sudden ''engagement, marriage ~.but. the bride looked `no 1.8 8 beautiful, in: herl saowy Satin robes and bridal wreath. 1,1, Oitiv a.month married,and Lady-Ellen Wilfi.rd sitslu twr'elegant boudoir, read ing over an, old letter, penned by a well known hand, and dated btut three weeks_ prior to, her marriage. : lit ran 'thus : . - ` . You must` have been misinformed, , Tear uncle, for, I ftiever *loved , ii'.• girl Such 1 18 you described ,to me, ' The name is eertainly'unfamiliar. ,Sdirly ‘i,t_ was not my sister Besiie who told yon 'Such false hoods ?, I shall be , badlf. -soon; and, per ellance,,briug- a :apt e wit.) •ine—one Who heat , for she is will win your ric4 and t 1 t hnroughly - accomplished:'.• . , --' . .-' Lady Ellen clenched her white fluke* and then exclaimed; .bitterly, - ,"-So you never loved her ? Sister Bessie did. not but Ellen did ; and you pliant yet ; and Ellen, the loved, shall; triumphlover tell--ah, no: shall be a sup girl yon never you I". Was it piq that made e. . ...• , tover, or unrequited `.tove ady Ellen Alk the - 416°r, ilken robes - over the costly ing, her white hands till the 0 the flesh. , We shall see. trailing her carpet, wring jewels ; cut in ‘!Si),..soon; htipPess, • "Hit cann a writes that him. If, be onr . joy. Yc , as de, be i 'Talse r while her cheeks, not ' . it Tere ? lie will' mar our ear, with his; mild 'imp." t be helped, darling. Re he may: bring a wife with should, they-will leave U 8 to U will soon learn to love ham So frank, n.014e, and—" ileti •added,4 , with a smile, usband patt d her crimson oting the burning glow on , - your. wife, my boy ? Bring e'll make the happiest eir e I" exclaimed' Sir Wilford 1, bearded, and bronzed man t,, • t . le, to say the truth,she elop officer, and aerveu me right, red for her money." • . "Where is her in, an.d cle tiny wbe Vere . to a to of 2G: • "W by, 'lan ed with an for I, on lyie ran his fingers through his .The man heavy 'bear face. "W h: ten to prese upon his u in awkward 1 to conceal his corrugated V . :re is my new , , 81113 t-r Do has. ilt me ;"and placing his hand oleo' arm, the pair walked on sil4nce. • rindeniablyi splendid men, e like brothei•s, and Elbowing erence in age. Sir Vere, if 4 peared to be the younger of 'they were looking !no' but little dt, anything, a' the two. I .n half reclined on a crimson ress of maiik—colored satin, ft folds around her beautiful, was a picture worthy of ad tut Sir Verel thought there more of that feeling express phew's gaze than was requir broke the silence by saying, s is the boy I spoke to you 1 you love him for my sake F" ed, but she rgse; and holding d,exclamed warmly,"l think rge\ enough Ito be loved for e ; but I will, try to like a. lit sake, Sir Vere." laughed musically. Lute(' ,• but, as she held ont - greet him, hi recovered him Lady Ell sofa, her c falling in sc form. ..She miration i was a trifle ed in his tic ed. So he "Ellen, thi about. Wi • She fins oat her ha Audley is 1. :his own sa tlelor you And she her bend t self. .ys. after AndlPy's return, he ng his way through the lien he came upon a scene of eauty. • ' vines for Med an arch over an I untain of ,wLite marble. .By Ellen, idly' (toying with •the her wrapper.( Lovely . as an ooked, with the folds of her •ess failing carelessly,graceful er s one tiny slippered foot m 'beneath her robe. Fairy i petted . its Magic portals for ilford's del4ation ; but , an stood by to guard its queen, c .instant, a uick, firm tread dley from his rapt gaze, while sprang up ~ w ith the quick a gazelle, and met, not the iley, but his uncle, her bus ., glanced firstlat Audley,whom ust seen ; then at; his Wife.- 7 -: 1, .for the fir,st time i!! forty r.V ere' a honorable life, crossed bat 'he quicikly banished it who had bee,n the first to re ,ostirf,was soon ,chatting 'about , the weather, and a dozen i that were .fa. from occupying hat then. and weeks afterwards, Lady constantlt , leading Audley on. he found her in the library east he ti:night so. Had he ►rin behind the curtained win- , Uld not have ,been so reckless'. 1, he bu:st forth in burning assion, calling Ellen, "his best half frightened at liii itnpet it she soon r i ecoverecr herself, Ike - a statue b,efore• him.' Her ly added to ,the flame. Then his tones to words of entreaty hitn;"tO burst the wretched A few \ db was - wendi grounds, fairy-like b Trailirg eiquisite it sat Lady chords of houri she morning di ly around p-eping frc land had I Andley 1 ogre grim for, on th s t tied A Lady • Elle lightness o gaze of . A band.; Sir}Vere "Ellen had A. suspicio yrars of Si] his mind , ; and Ellen. Cover corn the flower otherlrifle her mind j Fur day: Ellen was One day seen the f Ow, he w As it was words of r , and only She , rose nosity. : B and stood coolness o he change, "Wily wit bonds tha enough to her as she burst f2rt reproaab. now bound' :he r to .a man 'old be. her father;and, did not love 'Should. loied !", Then . she into otlangery.pOde and , 1 Wilford, years have .come . and you drety wbrds of.love from tit, you left Me;and wooed, and r. 1 You start, and ' well' you ingtead of her desertion, as old your' uncle, you betrayed d to give_ her. the name of .41 0 b 'Mar y -in. yo urchyard I She II ings, your victim, ~ g se,artns, Mt me to avenge I &Mud! 'dastard ! I hate you selose to yqur benefactor your e shall drive you from the )as shelteree you for so many '.Aadley gone since illy lips; won anoth I may ; for, you basely her :—retus 'wife an 1 lies eleepi died- in. th her. Now andd . - vileness. place that yettra ri - ; ' ! , '43 - iilit,liiiv not ih0:::P: .8ir.',14.0:,, en trernbled ‘yithem9tion i and 'lford stepped; t in her Ode, and , diuni lier t 43 his arras bad rtain'. been' thiust - aside, arid Ilford' appe#Ed. With aut. MONTROSE, PA., .A.UG-UST - 16, 1876. *. - * stretched hand , 'be pointed to the door, and •said with ayvoiee, ciphering-With ag ppy,4l‘Go, .ere I forget .tikyrnsatkhOod,,and strike you to the earth." , Audley Wilford =was, like . all 'ingrates, a, collard.; but he'WOUld not leave 'the RiLs: sees* of : her: who-,:iae- 'dearer than - MS own soul.' "He placed his hand,quick aslig6tning, in his breast,and.drew forth a pistol. His. uncle sprang . forward, s , juat., as he, pulled the trigger; and'received the.shot,.nOt as 'Audley aimed. but-in his arm. Then, •as the husband fell; Audley wound .his• arm around Ellen, and totci bly 'drew her toilard - the floor. :But the servants 'Came trooping in, brought there by. the loud ringing. report of the pistol ;- and -in a-- moment the would be ossissin was pinioned. The .tragedy was not ended ; for an other report • follolied the capture, and Andley.Wilfordlay upon the floor, dead —shot through the heart. (. Ellen sprang to her husband, and,with the assistance of servants, raised him to, .the sofa.. The, wound was .not dangerous but fever set in,and many weeks' Sir Vere lay, on a bed of tinguish•; - • . . His beautiful wife, untiring in her ef forts for his restoration, was but the pale shadow of herself ; but time soon tinted -her cheeks again, ;the thin - form - grew rounded and toll, while the eyeasparkled with joy and love. . • Never_ a word was uttered: of "the dead?' Even the name was dropped by tacit consent.; Secnre . in each other's love,. no .cloud •darkened . .the horizon of their lives, outwardly ; husband ,and inwardly, both. felt.- that. the :wronged Mary Hastings was amply avenged. It was Lady Ellen, who had avenged her.. THE HIGH FORCE. IAM DYING. The doctor says I may last a month, or may riot live "through the night. I feel weak, very weak. I don't fear death, but I cannot with. out confessing a . crime that hae blighted my life—a crime whose heinousness is such that.' doubt not yog will deem my narrative the wild creatfdn of a fevered brain. • • Many years ago—it seems 8o far back that I can scarcely -realize• ths I am the same person as the happy, careless ath lete of those days—l lived in a northern cathedral city.. Many years ago it seems but I know it is only two,two little years —they might have been as many centur ies—l had a friend Charles •Walton. \We rowed in many a race together ; we were almost brothers ; and yet—and yet—ah, me t. It was one - very sultry evening in June, just two years ,ago, Charles and were in training for the el local regatta,and were out on the river in a pair. We had rowed over the course, and were resting on our oars and talking over our chances of.winning. Just where we rested there were houses on both, sides of the river.; On one side tumble -down. tenements, relics of the good old times when our present style of architecture was unknown ; ragged,-un comfortable, squalid, and yet picturesque, they embayed windows-over-hanging the river. On . the other side, a new row of hotwes stlisod in all. the glory of their freshly - laid on stucco. A roadway ran aloug the hank of the river in front, and a RON of terrace formed dui approach to these houses. My attention was sadiiNtly riveted to a slight figure leaning on the railing that protected' the terrace. Ah, that evening How: well I re nieinberit. - The glory of the ennset gradually fad ing in the twilight—the river slowly growing darker and darker as the shades of night draw on—that angel face•--that fairy form—all—all come back to me now 1 . Better far that I had died then than lived till now. lAit something tells me my time is short. I most promd. I found out her name--,Harriet ;nev , er mind her surname. . . 1 SaW her again and yet - again. A chance meeting at the house of .ft friend procured me an intro duction, and I.wati in the seventh heaven of delight. .; - I saw . her often--very often... We went to church together, with her aged moth er ; visited the various places of_aqiuse ment in the little `cathedral town ; and when the winter had bound the river in its rigid embrace, often we sped 'together hand 'in hatid over Ole glistening ice. One afternoon, when skating with her, a chance rencontre with my , friend Charles, whose Roeiety I had . rather neg lected ofs late, gave me no chance but to introduce him to my darling. He seemed quite struck with her, and —But why do. 1 . . torture myself with these memories ? Eliough _ Harriet gre* gradually colder: and colder to me. I--began to- meet he: often now .with Charles—my friend l Oh, how I got to hate.him! You" will probablv-now guess the result. I met Charles.- one day in the street, looking radiantly 'happy. .- "Congratplate me.old fellotvl" he iaid. "She has accepted me 1" "She !.' I said. explicit. Who ?'! "Who r ht- answered - ; "why, Harriet, of course ! I thought you knew I ,was in love with. her, and—But, what's the matter, old man . ? You're ill ! You've overtrained ! :I told . you - you were doing too . much work ! Come inhere and 'have some brandy." With a_great Out .managed to keep down my fury. and, pleading an engage ment, I left him abruptly. From that moment 1 determined that Charles should never marry Harriet ;'and in the stillness of the night I brooded over my wrongs, until some demon whis pered "rev.enge ;" and graduslly the thought preyed More and more 11000 me, and at last I matured a scheme, refined iu.cruelty and•secure from detection. I think 1. ;aye already explained to you that there were houses opposite to the one occupied by Harriet and her , mother on the other Hide or the mei. In one of these I secured lodgings., I gave up all my athletic purauits,plading illness, and spent .all my time in watch ing that house and maturinglny plans for vengeance. I often saw * Charley come to the house. I saw her wait at the window and watch for him, and' her radiant smile of wel come when his stalwart form appeared.-- I saw their farewells o'n the terrace of an evening.; I could almost fancy I heard their whnspPrkl words of lase-; and 'the demon took complete possession of me. The summer was coming round again, and the day fixed for Charley's marriage was . nigh ar hand. • I proposed that we should. have one : more mivatic trip.together. He suspect ed nothing, and 'consented ; and one beautiful morning in June we started in canoes for - the High Force, a picturesque waterfall some distance from the town up the, river. • The demon no i cF raged within me, and I was.powerless to go back from my ven geance if I had Wished it ever so.' We reached our destination about noon on the second day after *we had started, and had luncheon together on a cliff that overh tig the fails.• The river at this point ran swiftly in a narrow gorge ' and then . sprang i at least two hundred feet shear into a broad,shal loW pool below4rom whence it wandered slowly toward the town we had left—one of us forever. I drugged the wine , we had brought with us, and erelong Charles - laid he felt unac:-ountably drowsy, and.soon, in fact, dropped off to Sleep, with' his handker 7 cbief over his fake.. . Then I set toWork. • I carried his ca noe up, and launched it, at.d. fastened it by the painter to a - willow some two hun dred yards above Abe falls. Then 1 placed my friend in it, and tied him in a sitting position, taking care to place the ropes so - that they should come loose when the canoe went to pieces, but not before. . I then sat down and waited. After about half an hoar the effects, of the narcotic began to wear off. Charles opened his eyes And looked va cantly- around. • • "Where am I ?" be said ; "I have been asleep, I think." "Charles," I cried ; "it is now your 'tun to sleep foi a long time ! You Un derstand.. Youishall never marryHar , 'net." "Percy, you cannot mean—" "1 do. You are now above the High Ffirue. Listen ! You ,can hear the dash of the _waters. see-bow the spray rises. The current, as ion see,runs very swiftly'. If you wish to lsay a-,prayer, I will give you time for that, but n'o mor e ." He looked daied` for a moment ; then the danger of hie: position seemed to burst upon him, and he uttered 'a 'cry of rage and struggled. violently ; but the ropes 'were too strong , for, him. • He strug,2lodiin vain. I took out my clasped knife and opeu 7 ed -"For the love you once `bore me,.Per cy. • "Yes, " I interposed ; "you must dib !" He uttered a series of piercing shrieks, and again strove to buret his fetters. stepped bar* appalled, and half re pentant- oi- my purpose. The shrieks ceased, and ,there came a half-articUlate murmur--"llarriet Then the demon within me swaYed my hand. cat the rope. The host •was'swept • by the current in to .the . middle r of the stream.. It. caught in an eddy, and ;made two or three revo! lutions, and then drifted down swiftly tuwardd the falls.. - - The noire of-;the rushing waters in creased. ran jalong the bank. ',saw Charles's face _pallid and fixed, sternly rigid and terror-stricken at the wilderness of,foam towhiph he was' now rushing with' frigh ful rapidity . . - • Ile gave one despairing cry that I could hear abote the thunder of Mitt cataract and tnen—and, then. my_ reienee was complete. Ad I had anticipated, Charles's death *wiii set , down - to ary accidOrt ; no one ev er dreamed of suspecting, me. his chosen "Pray be a littittmore *,0,.....,.. --. 3.3 . ..N..0...' : 33 friend. The canoe was dashed to pieces, and the ropes bad been so -skillfully . placed that they, did_ not betray me. - Harriet sent for me, but I dare not see her. . : I could not see those . drearny, gray, reproachful. eyes, but they seemed ever before me. ' - ' I went abroad for some months. When . I returned, there was a atone in a village churchyard. hard by the cathed ral city,that told me-I had sold . myself to the demon in, vain. Harriet bad not long survived her lov er. Now ;on will say that Ii ammad, but I am not. lam (I.ong=dying without one hope of forgiveness—dying - with the brand of ,Cain upon my brows ! But I am not mad I Would I were I A Truly Grown'. Widower. Sir Walter Scott used to be fond of telling - the following story of his cousin . "Watty." Watty aforesaid was a Mid shipman in the British navy. On a cer tain occasion he. and his messmates had gone on shore at Portsmouth, and had • overstayed their leave, besides spending all theic money and running up .a bill at a taver9 at the. Point. Their ships made signal for sailing, peremptorily calling all hands on board, but, when they have started the landlady said : •INo, gentle Men, you cannot escape/ without, paying your reckoning." And to confirm her words, She called a bailiff and his pcsse to take - charge of them. The - Midshipmen felt' they were in a bad scrape and begged to be released. "No, no," said the resolute matron, "I must be satisfied in some way. Yon must be aware, gentlemen, that you will be to tally ruined and disgraced if you do not go on board in time. They groaned bitterly, for they knew 'r she spoke the truth. "Well," she continued, "I wilt give yon all -a chance. I am so circumstanced here that I cannot well 'carryon my busiriess as a single woman, and must contrive somehow to- have a husband, or,-at all events, I must be able to.produce a maim riage certificate. Now the 'only terms upon which I will set you free are that one of you shall consent to marry, me 1 I don't-care a snap whichit is but ooe of you" will have for a husband, or else you all go 'to jail, and your ship milt without you. - The vixen was not to be coaxed or en- 1 treated.- -• Tears and prayers were of n o avail. After a time the poor middies agreed to draw lots: - Watty drew 'the matrimonial slip of doom. No time was to be lost. A - marriage license was speed. ily procured, and they went to the near est church, where the knot was tied.— The biide on their return to her tavern gave them 'a good dinner, and then sent them off in her wherry, Of her own accord she had proposed to her husband' that, as -the marriage certificate was her chief prize, he was at libertylo live apart from her forever if he so chose. The ship sailed . , and the young gentle man religiously adhered to the oath of secresy they had made previous.to draw ing lots. iliear after, at.. Jamaica, a file of English papera reachod the Midship men's berth, and Witty, carelessly look ing them over, was attracted by the ac count of a robbery and murder,, and the eieeution of the culprits at Portsmouth. Suddenly leaping to his fe-4, and waving the paper above his head, forgetful of his oath in 'the excitement of ecatasy,he cried out, : "Thank'. Heaven ! My wife is hanged !" . • St4ss Jas. Blain In Another per . The proprietor 01 - a Gratott avenle saloon wonh vote fo" James G. Blaine, and that is a settled fact. Some then were'yesterday, seeking ,to ascertain the cause of, his, animosity toward Maine's fltivorite son," and he explained "You see,. when I Vhas keeping saloon in Pufralo dot Mr:'Blaine come aronndt and - dook 8011113 . drinks and. nefer bald , the." . "Oh, that can't he, this Blaine," re plied one of +,h,3 men ; "this Blaine is a temperance man, ! '' ' "Zo vhas this 'Plolna," was ',the calm' reply, "I can shust rempmper as blain as day how.be boured dot *bloke.) , down his thrott rind groaned over some in- • creusc of indeniperariee." "Bnt this Blame is James G. Blaine," they pretested. “I • can't help dot, I didn't name him. Don Plaine who owes me is named Shimeti. Then I ask for mylia7 be set: 'Sharg3 does' drinks to,Shim Plaine; and walkt ondt."_ "You must be mistaken. This Blaine is a member of Omigress... "Zo vhos dot Plaine. He " couldn't spheak some Woes in Congress like lightning." "There is a mistake somewhere. You have got two Values mixed up. Here is a picture of, James G.' Blaine. See if he is the man who played dead beat on you." .; The: aloonist - glanced at it s : and hand it back. No use shentleinen, I 'shall boll My vote for de oder Mlke':"
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