VOMIE 30. NEW SERIES. ril HE BEDFORD GAZETTE, ■- IS PBBt-ISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING liV 52- F- METERS, . At the following terms, to wit; $! .50 per annum, CASH, in advance. i-> o,| u if paid within the year. $•2.50 " " if oot paid within the year. rrrNo subscription taken ior less tnan six ironiC-. rrT'No paper discontinued until all arrearages are naid. unless at the option of the publisher, .t has Len decided by the United States Courts that me stoppage ot a newspaper without tnc payment ot ar rearages, is prtma facie evidence ot fraud and is a o riminal offence. ...... tCr-The courts have decided that persons are ac countable for fh subscription price of newspapers, 11 the) take them from the post office,whether they subscribe for them, or not. scl c£ t sact rn. SPRING. BY J. W. THIRLWALL. No more of frost, no more of snow, The streams have cast their chains and flow ; The soft winds genial, breathe like a song The tender leaves and flowers among. The happy birds, no longer mute, Make music sweet as lovers' lute; And love itself pours sweeter strains 'Mong blooming tnaids and loving swains A theme more joyous none can 6ing, Than hail to thy sweet promise, Spring To those who've journey'd many years, Their joy may shine amid their tears ; The bygone springs have left a trace— Left blanks that nothing can efface. The bright eyes qnench'd, the warm hearts cold, The shepherd left without his fold; Departed, loving mate and young, No wonder, if his lute's unstrung, Yet, while that life "is on the wing, With joy he still doth hail the Spring. It seems awakening youth to all, Whatever storms their fate befall; For nature bursts her seeming tomb, All life and sunshine, joy and bloom. The skies like earthly brightness shine, Karth's tendrils blossoming entwine; Birds chirp and trill on every tree— What joyous, untaught minstrelsy ! What time has brought, what time may bring, With joy we still must hail thee, Spring. Suppose like thee, we winter cast, Ltave freezing glances with the past, The biting word, the act unkind, The passions wild as winter wind; Forgiving injury with grace, fiood-nature levelling every trace ; And, casting off pride's iron mask, Forgiveness, too of others ask. If thou such genial feeling bring, Oh ! how we ought to bless thee, Spring. Select <£ ale. [From the Home Journal.] THE PHANTOM BRIDE. "Will you love me even beyond the toinD I" The question came from the vermillion lips of a young girl at a fancy ball in Paris, during the reign of Louis XV. She was a brilliant brunette, with abundant raven hair, and wore the Spanish veil and mantilla, which she had assumed for the occasion, with all the grace of a daughter of Andalusia. Her interlocutor, a young viscour.t of twenty, arrayed ns a page of Mary Stuart, in Scotch plaid and Highland bon net and feather, had been pursuing the fair un known all the evening with protestations of love and eternal fidelity. His answer was prompt and unhesitating. "Yes, I swear it. If 7 die I will dream of you in the sepulchre, and a (hiill of joy will welcome you if your foot but touch the grass over my head." "And if I should die inquired the young girl in a sad tone. "If you should die I will be as faithful to you dead as livinff ; and if you should be permitted to visit me, I will kiss your cold hand w.th as much love as at this moment," and he pressed to his lips the little white hand of the beautiful Spaniard. "Ah, well, I permit you to love me. We will see if you will be consistent. Farewell, we shall meet again." "But where I —when ?" demanded the vis count anxiously. "I cannot tell. Perhaps here—perhapsjeise wnere—but you will see me," and with a ges ture which forbade him to follow her, she dis appeared in the crowd. Two years passed during which Viscount Ralph sought vainly at Marly, at Versailles, in every place of public resort, for his beautiful unknown. He was a Scotchman by birth, and like many of his countrymen, bad entered the service of the king of France. But a court life did not comport very well with his slender for tune, and he became, ere long, deeply involved in debt. "You must find some rich heiress," said bis sympathizing friends—it was the usual resource of embarrassed gentlemen of that day. But the viscount bad not forgotten the bewitching Andalusian, and was in no mood for the search. He was spared the trouble, however. His un cle, who was archbishop in partibus of an As syrian city destroyed by the Romans, informed him, one day, that it was time for him to marry, '^'•A^fefjSi,?^ wi'' -**= *■•* : - •■ n - -' and that lie had found a wife for him. "Is she rich ?"' inquired Ralph. "I do not ask if she is prelty—it is all the same to me." "Very rich, and very pretty." The Viscount thought of his unknown and sighed : tlien thought of his creditors and con sented. The uncle arranged everything, and when all was settled, he gave the nephew his benediction and two hundred pistoles and sent him off to Burgundy to pay his respects to the M'Hede Roche Noire, whom lie was to marry in a fortnight. A gloomy journey of several days' duration brought him at length to the ancient feudal manor house ot Roche Noire, situated in the heart ot a forest,on a lofty rock from which it derived its name. He was expected. The grand door ot the mansion was open, and an aged servant met him at the threshold and con ducted him into a large hall, at the extremity of which satan old man and a yoong girl. The former, whom he divined at once to be the Baron of Roche Noire, rose at his entrance, and saluting him in thp somewhat formal fashion of the dav, presented him to his daughter, Her mine. The latter hau the delicate beauty of the flower which has unfolded under a northern sun. She was pale, with lair hair, and eyes ot the deep blue of an Italian sky. Her figure was slight but graceful, her hands exquisitely shaped and transparent as alabaster. So much the viscount saw as he bent low belore his be trothed, and in spite of his professed indiffer ence, he inwardly congratulated himself on his good fortune. The viscount and baron exchanged the usual reciprocal compliments and inquiries. Ralph was accustomed to society, and understood well the art of making himself agreeable ; the baron spite of his seventy winters, had not forgotten how to be a courtier, and Hermine had the sim ple grace, the dignity, the modesty, without prudery, of a young giil of high birth,'religious ly educated, but without any rigidity. The conversation soon became animated and spark ling, while Ralph watched Hermine, and now and then muirr.ured to himself, "She is charm ing ' blessings on my uncle for finding me a wife at once that is so pretty, and so very rich." When supp" war m n ouneed, ho 'iffereri his hand to the young girl, who accepted it with a blush, while the baron led the way to the dining room. It was a lofty apartment, furnished in the massive style of Louis XIV. and upon the walls were suspended ancient family portraits. As Ralph's eye glanced over these it was at tracted by one whose freshness formed a stri king contrast to the smoky canvasses ot the de funct Barons of Roche Noire. It represented a young girl of dazzling, but foreign beauty, such as is only found under southern skies, a more brilliant daughter of Spain'never danced thpio lero in the perfumed gardens of the Alhambra. The eyes of Ralph were fixed immovably upon the canvass ; the first glance had told him that it was the long lost unknown of the fancy bail. "Come my dear Viscount," said the Biron, "let us be sealed." Ralph started and obeyed, then turned his eyes from the portrait to Hermine. In contrast I with that glowing beauty, she appeared to him | utterly insipid. He made some remark about ; the picture. The baron did not reply, but a cloud passed over his face, and Hermine turned pale, and sat silent with downcast eyes. A chill seemed to be thrown over these three per sons, just now talking so joyously. Brief re marks were made occasionally, in a constrained tone, and the supper ended almost in silence.— At its close the viscount made the fatigue of his journey an excuse ior retiring early. As the servant was conducting him to his apartment, they again passed through the large dining hail. "Whose portrait is this?" lie asked, pointing to the picture of the lady. The servant hesitated. "Speak," said the viscount imperiously. "It is the portrait of M'lle Fulmen," said the old man trembling. "And wbo is she "The elder sister of iM'ile Hermine." "But she is dressad in Spanisfi costume." "Yes, her mother was a Spanish lady." "And Fulmen, where is she now ?" "She is dead," said the 'old man, solemnly. "She lies at the left of the altar in the chapel of the cknteau." Fatigue had no power that night to bring sleep to Ralph's eyelids. It was in vain that he extinguished the candles and buried his head under the blankets ;. the image of Fulmen still pursued him. Now, it was Fulmen radiant with beauty, as she was represented in the pic ture, as he had seen her at the fancy ball ; a gain, it was Fulmen, pale and cold, extended in her coffin under the pavement of the chapel. Then he remembered his oath, to love her as well dead as living, and a cold sweat bathed his brow. At that moment a light at the oppo site extremity ot the apartment attracted his at tention ; a door, whose existence he had not BEDFORD, PA., FRIDAY BURNING, MAY 18,1860. [suspected, turned noiselessly on its hinges ; the candles reiightedThemselves spontaneously, and a figure, diaped in a winding sheet, entered the room and approached his bed. It advanced slowlv ; the most acute ear could have detected no sound of footsteps. Brave as he was, the viscount trembled at the apparition. When the figure was within a few feet of the bed, the winding sheet was thrown back, and revealed a young gir! dressed in Spanish costume. "Fulmen !" he murmured ; "the picture ha 3 descended from its frame !" it was indeed Fulmen, just as she was paint ed, save that the lips were pale, the eye mourn ful, the whole expression unspeakably sad. "Fulmen" repeated the viscount, with a tone of terror, in which was mingled a sort of fever ish joy. "It is I," she said, "do you remember your oath ? They have told you tiiat I am dead." The teeth ot Ralph chattered ; but the voice was so pure, so melodious, that it aided him to shake off the torpor which was creeping over him. "No you are not dead," he exclai mod, with j an effort. "I have been dead a year," replied Tulmen, sadly. "They buried me in the chapel. You can read tnv epitaph on the marble slab, the th'id front the high altar." Baiph could not detach his eyes from this sin gular creature, whose marvelous beauty coun- . teracted in some degree the terror which the ■ apparation would otherwise have caused. I "Alas !" resumed thp spectre —draping the j shroud about her form with all the coquetry • with which a living belle might wrap an opera cloak around her—"l am dead, really dead, at seventeen ; when lite was lull of light, and per- > fume, and music ; when tears, Jeven, were so 1 sweet that they resembled smiles; when the; present was so happy that the future was quite ' forgotten. And then I loved you. I trusted , in your oath ; but you did not care for me. You : have coine here to marry mj sister." "Fulmen," murmuredjßalpli, who felt a pang > of remorse at his heart, "I have loved |you ; Ii love you still." She shook her head. t'Thf dewt -PU norai- Irtvei* 'J* Ralp trembled. He felt hs blood curdle' in his veins. He remembered his onth. Y®tFul men did not complain. She did not even over whelm him with reproaches. She seemed re signed. He saw her lean her head upon her hand ; a tear shone in her eye, and a shiver passed through her frame. "I am cold," she said, and rising from the chair in which she had seated herself, she approached the fire-place, and bent as if to warm herself by the hall extinguished brands. "The dead are always cold," she slowly mur mured. "Heavens," exclaimed Ralph, "You are not dead ; but, dead or Jiving, you are beautiful, more beautiful than any living woman, and I love you as on the day I first saw you." "The never loved," she repealed mourn full}'. "Hut you are not dead. The limbs of the dead are rigid ; the flesh corrupt they are in sensible . they cannot walk ;they Cannot speak; you are not dead—it is impofsible." "I am dead," repeated Fulmen, in a tone c? i authority which admitted no question ; "dead — I and yet I suffer." s "You suffer !" the viscount exclaimed. "Yes. Because I died with a guilty thought in my heart. I remembered the ball where I met you. It was earthly love, not penitence, that engrossed my last hours. Yet if you who j are alive can love me etili,jGod will perhaps i paidon me, and 1 shall suffer no longer." "I do love you," cried Ralph, gazing at the young girl so beautiful in her .sadness. Yet a secret voice said within him, "Ah ! it site were only alive!" A pale smile'passed over thejface of tbe'phan ■ torn. It rose and advanced toward him. — Ralph involuntarily shrunk back at its aj>- proach. "You see," she said mournfully, "it is al ways so. The living fear the dead." "No, no !" said he, eagerly, ashamed of the momentary terror ; "no, Fulmen, my beloved, come !" She extended her hand, and took that of the voung man. Ralph uttered a cry. His hand was pressed by the cold clammy fingers of a corpse. She let his hand fall. "No t " she repeated in a half suffocated voice, "you see it cannot be ; 1 shall suffer al ways !" And she fled, while Ralph was so overwhel ed that he had not power to speak or move.— The candles went out suddenly : silence reigned again in the chamber ; the phantom had vanish ed. The next daj' dawned bright and beautiful. The Baron de Roche Noire, who did not appear to notice the pallor and abstraction of bis guest, Freedom of Thsght and Opinion. , pjposed a hunt. The day was spent in the yen air : and if, amid the excitement ot the case, the viscount thought of the occurrences oj.be last night, they seemed to him only Jas a ! hwildermg dream. But with the return of drkaess, and especially at the sight ol the pic- Sge, the 'apparation again seemed to him a jafity, and he determined to ascertain the iiih. Pleading a headache, he retired to his ! jom, and extinguishing the candles, he called , jftly : "Fulmen ! Fulmen !" There was no answer, j jgam he called : "FuJmen ! I love you though dead." Immediately the candles were re-lighted, and : Julmen again appeared. She threw off her j linding sheet and seated herself in a chair by is side. Her face had the cadaverous paleness ; i the tomb ; her eye was sad ; her step slow Yid painful ;. yet her exquisite beauty exerted ! tie same fascination over Ralph as when spark ing with life and vivacity. "Fulmen, I love you !" he repeated, gazing : at her with admiration. ; "Yet if my hand should touch yours," she 'replied with a sad smile, "you would utter a jcry as you did last night ; the dead are always [cold." "Give me your hand, and you will see,"said Ralph, extending resolutely his own. She took it, and again there came over him the same terrible sensation as before ; out he had se.f control enough to conquer, and again to re peat : f'l love you !" A bright smile illuminated the face of Fui nun. "My poor friend," she said, "I would gladly believe you, but if your love would end my suf ferings, it must be so profound, so ardent, that it can conquer even the desire to live. A tomb with me must have attractions for you. And you are but twenty-two, Ralph-•at .your age life is sweet." The viscount shook his head. "To live without you is death ; to be united to you even in the tomb, would be life." •'Take care my friend." "Of what, dear Fulmen ?" exclaimed Ralph, &7er whom the. smile of the young girl seemed V. "Do you know," she said, "that if you utter such a wish, God may hear your prayer ?" "Ah, if he would! An eternity by your side would be infinite happiness." "Ralph, my friend," interrupted Fuimen, while a smile of celestial joy shorte in her face •'take care you will die if you love me." "I wish to die." "But vou are betrothed to my sister." An exclamation of anger escaped hirry. "I hate her"' said he, vehemently. "Why ?" ''Because she isalive, while-you are dead. What Ins she done that she should enjoy the light of the sun, the perfume of flowers, the melody of birds? Was she any younger or more beautiful "Ralph,you are unjust. My sister has no control over iier destiny or mine." "You are right, perhaps ; but I swear to you that 1 will never marry Hermine, I wish to be yours, and only yours, forever." "You are mad, my friend ; I cannot accept happiness at such a sacrifice." She rose slowly. "Adieu, Ralph," she said. "Marry Hermine and pray for me." ■ # "Fulmen ! Fu'men !" exclaimed Ralph, fall ing on his knees at her Ret, uo not abandon me—l love you !" "But vour love is death." "It is happiness. It is life." "His tone was so earnest, so touching that the young girl hesitated. "Let me live eternally with you," he persist ed. "Listen, my friend," she said at length, as if she could no longer resist his entreaties, "in this casket," pointing to a richly carved box which stood upon the table, "there is a phial containing a dark liquid." "And this liquid ?" "Is death "It is happiness," exclaimed Ralph, seizing the casket. Fulm p n stopped him by a gesture. "Not vet," she said ; "by-and-by —at mid night—but first— reflect!" Immediately the candles tvere extinguished, and he found himself in complete darkness. If Viscount Ralph had been a Frenchman, as soon as Fulmen disappeared, he would have opened the window, ahd let the cool night air play upon his brow. Then, the fever fit being over, he would have said to himself; "All this is folly. I am twenty-two years old, an officer in the king's service, and am a bout to marry a young girl, blond as a Madon na, fair as a lily, who will bring me an income of a hundred thousand livres. I have only to be quiet, and let things take thair course," After which he would have slept quietly, and dreamed no more of Fulmen. But Ralph was a Scotchman, with an imagination as suscepti ble of exaltation as most of his countrymen of the land of mountain and mist. As soon as the phantom vanished, he relighted the candles oy the aid of a half-extinguished firebrand, and o pening the casket, he took out the phiai. "Fulmen ! Fulmen ! wait for me ? lam com ing !" he murmured, and swallowed the con tents at a draught. For a moment h." experienced a strange and, inexplicable sensation ; a coldness in the chest a heat in the head ; then his eyes became heavy , his eyes trembled, and extreme languor crept over him, and he sank upon the floor, still mur muring faintly ; "Fulmen, wait for me—l love you." When Ralph swallowed the contents of the phial he expected to awake in another world.— He was mistaken. The phial contained only a narcotic, and he was very much astonished on opening his eyes, to find himself in bed, and to see the sun shining through the curtained win dows. A woman sat by the bedside. It wa3 Fuimen ! but no longer the pale, sad Fuimpn, with livid lips, and form euveloped in a winding sheet; but Fulmen, fresh, radiant, joyous, in the same costume which she wore at the fancy ball. The reader will understand the explanation of all this more readily than the young viscount, whose head was still somewhat confused tiom the effects of the narcotic. The young girl had wished to put the sudden passion of her ballroom lover to the test; and with some difficulty she had persuaded her fond old father, and her cousin Hermine, to lend themselves to the mystification. A little inge- j nuity, some invisible assistance, a transparent j glove of serpent skin, aided by the native super stition of the young Scotchman, were all that was necessary to the success of the scheme. We need not say that the viscount, when he recovered his senses, was very glad to exebanga his phantom bride for a living one. ffUsccliancons. Tiie State of Indiana has recently lost by death one of its citizens—Mr. James Bangs. We find an obituary notice of him in a Housier pappr: JUisixr Edatur : Jem bangs, we are sorry to stait; Has oesisea. ne Urjiai tnl tliio L-io loot mundy. Jem was generally considered a gud feller. He dide at the age of 23 years old. He went 4th without airy struggle; and such is Life. Tu Da we are as peper grass—mity smart—to Morrer we are cut down like a cow cumber of the grownd. Jem kep a nice store, which his wife now wates on. His vurchews wos numerous. Mennv is things we hot at his growcerey, and we are happy to state that he never cheated, speshully in the wate ot mackrel which was nice and smelt sweet and his sur viving wife is the same wa. We never new ! D him to bite a grane of colly into to make xact wale. And Dever new him to put sand in his shugar, tho he had a big sand bar in front of his house; our water in his Lickers, tho the ohio run past his dore. Piece to his remains !" J1 Yankee Court skip. —The story runs thai a gentleman living at St. Joseph's Island, out West, was engaged to be married to a pretty French girl, and the banns were published in ; the Catholic Church on a certain Sunday. The 1 next day a Yankee made a bet of SIOO, with a ! trieud, that he would marry the girl himself. The money was placed in the hand of a third i party ; the Yankee then called upon the young lady and made a proposition of marriage. She told him that her intended had already given her S4O to buy clothes, but that she didn't like him very well. At this her new suitor handed her a like amount, and then placing forty dol i lars more with it, remarked: "There's his I forty dollars, and I'll go forty bet(er.' £ The young lady could resist no longer, and taking the money, returned the amount given her by her first lover, and married his competitor wilb in an hour, well satisfied with the bargain, i The bet was won, and in the course of a month the St. Joseph Islander married the sister of his first finance. A western Editor having had his last shirt stolen, vents his rage as follows: "We would say the rascal who stole the shirt off" the line while we lay in bed waiting for it to dry, that we sincerely hope that the collar may cut h<s throat." To this a cotemporary adds; "Ser ved him right; no business to have a shirt. A pretty editor thus indulging in such luxuries ! We expect next to hear of the extravagant fel low aspiring to wear stockings and beavet hats! Oh, the vanity, unreasonableness and extrava gance of some tolks Pat was helping Mr. Blank to get a safe in hrs othce one day, and not being acquainted with the article, inquired what is was for. "To prevent papers and other things which are placed in it from being burned in case of fire," replied Mr. B. "Are ye sure nothing will iver burn that is put in that thing ? "Yes" "Well, thin, yer honor, ye'd better be afther getting into that same wheu ye die." Mr. Blank "wilted." The latest dog story isot two dogs who fell to fighting in a saw mill. In the course of the tussle, one oMhe dogs went plump against the saw in rapid motion, which cut him in two insian ter. The hind legs ran awav, but the fore legs continued the fight and whipped the dog. 1 WHOLE NUMBER, 2902. VOL. 3. NO. 42. A LEAP.SED NEGRO. — Two Samboes were one day lying on the wood pile sunning them selves, when one of them suddenly broke forth in the following manner: "I ray, Ike, does yer think dis world turns I 'ound on an axeltree?" "Well, Sam, I doesn't know ; what does you | link I" "Why, de wourid can't turn round on de ax eltree, cause it would come in contact wid de \ 'chinerv ob de globe, bust de ingine, run de cars cti'de track, and squash all the passengers !" "Sam, you is a iarned nigger, you is!" 'JOHN' said one boy to another, one day, as they were strolling by a duck pond, "do you know why a duck goes under water ?" 'No,' answered his companion ; "let me ask you why V "For diver's (divers,) reasons,' said John, 'Well, well,'said the other, 'can you tell me why he comes up again V •No,' replied John, somewhat curiously. 'Then, John,' said his companion, 'you are caught this time. 01 course the duck comes up for sundry (sun dry,) purposes.' An old gentlemen of eighty-four having brought to the altar a young damsel of sixteen, the clergyman said to him, — "/ou "will find the font at the opposite end of the church." "What do I want with the font?" asked the old gentleman. "I beg your pardon," said the clerical wit \ I thought you had brought this child to be cris tened." A country hawker being detected in the act of shooting a bird, was taken before a justice. "So fellow," said Mitimu3 "you think fit to shoot without a license, do you ?" "O, no, your honor," cried the offender, "I have a li cense for hawking ," so saying, he handed him his pedlar's license, and the bird shot proved a hawk, the man was discharged. A Virginia negro boy, who professed to be dreadfully alarmed at cholera, took to the woods to avoid it, and was there found asleep. Be ing asked why he went there, he said : "To pray." "But," said the overseer, "bow was it that yon went to sieep ?" "DoD't know, massa. zactly, but I spec I must have overplayed my3e 11." IJATHER Foxy.—"Dad, if I was to see a duck on the wing, and was to shoot it, would you lick me? "Oh, no my son ; it shows you area good marksman ; and I would feel proud of you." "Well, then, dad, I plumed our old drake as he was flvin' over the lence to-day and it would have done you good to see him drop." KF*"Main't I see you home from meeting, Peggy ?" "No, you shan't do nojsuch thing, I am other wise engaged." "I swanny, I guess you've missed it this time, for I've my trouser's pockets lull of gin ger-bread." "You may take my arm, Bill, I only said so." The .Meanest Mm in America. —This notori ous individual lives in Cleaveland. Re ap plied to a Justice recently for an execution to levy upon the wooden leg of a man who owed him four dollars ! No constable could be found to serve the execution. Is lowa they have huge long-nosed hogs in portions of the State, that the settlers employ them to plow the fields. They bury a corn-cob at one side of the field, and place a hog at the other sice. The "porker" immediately digs his snout into the rich soil, and turns a furrow, e rjual to that of the bpst plow, right up to the cob. "Father heave you got another wife besides moth r?" No my son ; what possesses you to ask such a question V' Because I saw in the old family Bible that you married Anno Domini in IS4'2, and fhat isn't mother, for her nam? i? Sally Smith." AN Irishman being asked whether he did not frequently coaverse with a friend in Irish, re plied ; 'No, indeed ; Jemmy often speaks to me in Irish, but I always answer him in English.' 'Why so ?' 'Because, you see, I don't want Jemmy to know that I understand Irish.' NOT EXACTLY. —"Have you been much at sea. "Why not exactly ; but my brother married a commodore's daughter." "Wereyou ever abroad V* "No, not exactly ; but mother's madi*R name was French. The following admirable-lines werp written by a sailor, on a blank leaf of his Bible: "While down the stream of life I sail, Christ be my ship, and grace my gale Hope be my anchor whilp 1 ride, This book my compass o'er the tide !" BULWER says that "death often changes a version into love." Certainly it does, we may have an antipathy to sheep and swine and yet love mutton and pork. WHY is a man climbing up Mount Vesuvius like an Irishman who wishes to kiss his sweet heart 7 Because he wants to get at the mouth of the cratur. Why is an unwelcome visitor, like a shady tree ? Because we are always glad when ho leaves. Shoemakers and milkmen make good sailors they are both used to working at the pumps.
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