fc^TILLIAMS. 1 r-r-j* r iu_ r^Sr-'iS ware, &c. iThig taken charge of the IlniMwar* Till B!miji-recently «wder the Charge I Virginia tireel, »i]ij»i»|ti* kg adslock art bu% lylhmjr in Ihe Hardware amßutlri, hiw*, Axes, -Anc-r*. Adze?. Chisel*, pars. Pbtn<*«; Hinges, Locks, Latcliec fet*. Spoons,Ac., all of which ■S.'i*mi*on»MMermN. BythiniC Inilir.Hardware line are examine their *to *t. OH** Paints, Cortfuii Oil. etc., to their of all these -article* at a «mikll ad- itwlhe 2 BUSINESS^ l>ul an assortment, from which #ny aelect an article to pelaso their laacj. SHEET I HON WAKE, ■r AVI LLOW-WARK Hiirjjf M4tj.lv.nun a ill mak.e.to orde Called for. e proiujulv attended tf», , AND WDOUTINCi 4u tliv v Goods. ixqed wouiil respectfully in < «if AI uioi furronmiliig conn* inucb larger than i 4 ijnirt* ns. ol'j-cl. in £»»««♦* exciting ; j‘t- to nsirciitwin. re they can get s, ; uud at the, Lowest Prices, s wil.i f“-Sl a* l«*w, jf u»t a Hn-rlumsf i'u t!u-> pl.ice Hi* wish** .-.tuck *btri«»ri* puicii.ir;iijg elsewhere, * .■ cjmi oft'*rt Sviiiob will :* sturk C-MJhiaH «»f ; GOODS of every description, •* WINTKIi WKAU, I ) SI ISS K* 4 1) a KSS SIIOKS, i* buys* boots axo iiiOEs, mitS s iuLF qosk ;b sussks* wool hdsi?. UXDLKAiMII.D MUSLIN, ' I.VMS AND HKAVV DKILLIXOa. UeeU'ii Bootes Ht sKso@l.is 1.3T@1.60 ‘2.7 £ift£3.&#,- wry l->w HiOckUiES latfar.- Hio Syrups Teas*. Ac, kvA\ Light C,-«u. th* (hut sum. V«r nnJ can bo nif dye. 'Um* pr.HVK- t» siiut J« Ami y*-»rih i-f4V*?i fiircr-ik Dilutions !i-I Ot-riiMn, m ide of «Wk pncfcftK*, tLm iu D H«ni giving a perfect p *r* Hi'l.ijft*'.! i * {>r l Nut by tmUl oD 0t« SliiiiufucturfiJ I«v lIUWK « FTKVENS, *-■» Lr.vADWAT, Boatov. MdAk alcrs generally )VES, ‘EET-IKON WAKE. .SIGNED WOULD UK- A largi». aajvply will always be A'O.V WAJZE. in. great rariety, & SPOUTING a room to bU ; « -pon hand an assortment ofcop- ,-ioDijalr to. *TK»'HKN WINTERS*. d Sheet Iron Ware. ping. &C. : LD RESPECT u citizen* of Altmma in*>Ta?jtlv on hand -• 7. Jhrlor. OJTict rSBBRf * < aiul ai/.e-*. to suit tilt ' ' •<" •• til sell at low prices, wu roonon* - Dirge stock of Tin and Sheet" : kil urtifcU* f»r culluary purport*—*: ,] ■ tii« r‘|jbt of tale in Blair county AUSAOE stuffeh. *n!j to be seen to be Mpprecia, yu »u paid up SPQDTXKO • spouting: painted and put up iniß. jupril J 4-, 18$9-!y teUCUXION. I’RI I.ADKLI*IIIA, PA. a, UrJimry arid Sexual —in llepnrU uf. fcN—«*nt t>\ iimil in letter Br, J. SKJLLtff fe»>>ci«tiuu. So. 2 .Ninth Bt. v -NOS. I, AND' 3, new. ami , pack*#* Ifeud for low Irtf ■ ■ * T GOOI> COFFEE, » bocf»Jtttr«, Syrnpa and fiaiEkri, HffTt'IIKY’N A fresh sup* e- just recidted and fc*. i FIMTCIIKt'S " EAM CHEESE,. AT KKITCIj ‘ OAitPKTIMK&ffB* 1 I0d« .■. IAVQUM&m^* McCKUM & DERN, VOL, 9 THE ALTOONA TRIBUNE . . . - - 11. C. DElti\ Ir .,»vahK- in advance,} $1 50 at UiJ expiration of (lie linn- paid’tor TSHMS OF AtHTERTIMSQ: I iuav-rliya -iuo. K.mr linen or '/*• * * 7S /J on-.- Sqi»r«,“(* ta»*) , m - TSO ” (« ■■ 1 150 aOO -00 T ov”r and !<•« than three month.. » cent. ~«■ .quaro for each insertion. Smooth.. ' Six line* or lets. 0h» square Two ” Three Vonr ihif a column 25 00 40 00 ■ijrrchalita iulwrtl»mK I’J >“ r ' 1 ’ w , 6 . 0 „ ...rcreKt-wil! lie clnirßCJ • „ number of inner and chur g ed •«ordinß to the above tH™- n<> fijroVßrT motion. If traveler through tlii-* ra'i* of ir.ir?. , We saw uo luod hejoinl. nh! vrliat roiiM olirck tbo Wbat earthly thing could plciwir*’ gi^‘‘ v Ob’ who woul-i vi-nturo. M nr who would venture then to livo, Were life a d xrk un-l desert m ■ . Where mists ami clouds eternal spread Their gloomy veil behind, before. And tempests thunder over head: Where not a sunb-Min breaks the gloom. An ! not a fluff- r s-milwf bem-ath. Who vvuuM < \i-t m such a tomb— Who dwell in tiurki.Waml in iKith? Hricht is the golden sun above. And beautiful the tb*w d r> that blo-ua. Aud Till is joy. and all is love. Reflected from the world to come. jlstet THE GENTLEMAN WITH TEE CAMELLIA. --v I was going one morning from Sou thampton to London. I hud the carriage to myself as far as Kingston ; here a little man. got in who at cnee attracted my at tention by the peculiarity of his dress, ap pearance, and manner. He was in evening dress, everything about him, from the silh faced dress-coal to the patent leather bools, being bran new —a tact of which lie was far from being unconscious. Each of hi# garments, in its turn, attracted his notice and approving smile. The only tiling about him that violated evening etiquette was his necktie, a blue one* negligently arranged a la Byron, un der a rolling collar. From this 1 argued that he was a poet, for turn-down collars were by no means so common then as now ; the fashion prescri bing terrific, gills, which, in short-necked men, endangered the safety of their whis kers and ears. My surmise was confirmed by hi# long hair, its natural tendency to curl being combated by the copious exhi bition of grease, ami probably by assiduous brushing. His face, however, was somewhat against my theory : instead of being thin and pale, with eyes “ in fine trenzy rolling,” it was round, dumpling-like, and rosy ; his little eyes deeply set in tunnels of fat, winch, as he chuckled from time to time, .were half closed by his rising cheeks, and presented to view a mere slit ; his nose short, turned up, and garnished at the tip with Six or seven curly hairs ; his mouth' expansive, and his teeth very good : fortunately, as lie showed them all, not even concealing the wisdom teeth, which were not quite come down. I He, was well made, what there was of him • lie was not much above five feet high, rather disposed to embonpoint. -Indus button-hole lie wore a magnificent white camellia, which, I regret to say, I saw. admired, coveted, and determined to possess, by fair means if possible, if not, by foul. ■1 his flower, too, attracted much of his attention ; lie bestowed .frequent glances upon it, muttering what I conceived, to he poetry, inspired by the purity and delicacy of the flower. I was considering how I might best commence a conversation which would ac quire me the good graces of this gentleman, and ultimately make me the possessor of the, camellia, when he saved me the trou ble of breaking the ice by saying : “ Candidly, sir, what do you think of my tailor’” . I replied that I had not the advantage of knowing him, a circumstance which I regretted the more, as his work showed him to he a man of no common ability ; I added, that he was fortunate in having a client whose figure and air would set off garments, even though fabricated, with less consummate skill. He tried to look modestly unconscious, »>•« said,- ■>■■ - “ And who, sir, may this client be with '''' ' ' ' f '' l ' * ' ''‘'''' f ' I s I ' ' 1 60 : 2 50 . 4 00 . 5 00 6 00 10 oo tfiwiff THE WORLD TO COME. it’all our hop*.* u?u! all our f^rn. Were prison**! in imirmv hound Wrt such were life without tho ray sf our divine* religion given? I'i? this that make> our darkno>- day, ’Tift this tint nn.k.s *mr earth a hta.en the distingue figure gnd air I As you say that you not kijiow my tailor, I might almost Itntey that your truly tiattenng ob servations'were addressed to me; but ray figure, though not deformed, is small, that is to say, rather below than above the average size; and as for ray air, though I. flatter myself that I possess some of that je ne gam qw/i which'distinguishes men like you and me 'from the vulgar herd, still neither my figure nor air is worthy of the very glowing eulogium which you have bestowed upon them. No. sir, really ; no indeed, sir, ’ really:;’’ and he chuckled, blinked his eyes, and east glances on his -little tWUllMfmbs of, more than parental fondness. I perceived (hat lie was not inaccessible to.flattery,"and did not despair of obtaining the camellia by fair means, “ 1 should apologize,” said I, " for so personal a remarkit slipped from me un consciously ; but you must' have heard it frequently from the lips and seen it in the eyes ot the gentle sex. You are not in sensible to their witcheries ; 1 see that in your eye ; nay, that camellia in your but ton-hole iproves you to be the happy bond man of some blaek-eved Houri.” n Uo. t 5u 1 00 ■1 ill: 1 year. $ 5 00 7 00 m oo VJ 00 $ 3 00 4 00 6 00 s 00 14 00 10 00 a»'oo 14 00 “ How. did you find that out? You must know something about me ; you might have guessed that i was in love ; but bow did you find out the color ol her eyes V' “ Well, 1 did not know positively. I thought it likely, most in accordance with the eternal fitness of thing.-, that you. who have blue eyes, should bo enslaved by black ones. Was t right >” “ Well, I can hardly tell you ; I trust you may be right, but the fact is, I have never seen the lady's eyes.'' “ Never seen her eyes ! Ah, I see : a mysterious courtship, truly poetic, veiled lady, gentle voice, white hand, one raven lock just peeping from its concealment, fairy form, taper ankles, little tiddly-iddly feet.” . ; “ Sir,”. said he, grasping my hand, “we are kindred splrits—you have felt the di vine afflatus —you ihave struck the wild harp:'and burst into the inspiring melody of song. We are poets, sii. brother poets. Were it not a breach ol the confidence she has reposed in me,: : I would tell you the history of our loves, our hopes, and our sorrows." ; - “ You forget that, so long as you con ceal the lady’s name, there can be no breach of confidence. She is the unknown quantity ; letter'X-represents her.” “ Not X,: I shall have to repeat her name often in the course of my narrative: she would then become double, treble, or even quadruple X, JudD she is not stout.” “ Well, then, let. Y represent her ; it is u slender and graceful letter.” ■‘Good, let Y, for the moment, repre sent, unworthily, the name of my adored charmer. lam a' poet, sir, as you have already perceived, and not altogether un known to the public; in the ‘ Poets’ cor ner’ of the Trottingbury Mercury exegi monumentain are 'perennial! You may have seen some ot my contributions to that journal aigne4 ‘Beta.’ 1 will just repeat you my ‘ Odp to the morning.” “ Pray don’t take the trouble ; I know the poem-by heart, and recited it only last week to D—- — at the Atheiueum Club. Just now I am burning with impatience to hear your story.? “ You hav‘e readmy poem then : 1 had scarcely ventured to iiope that the weak breathings of my musediad penetrated so far as London.” “ ’ W by, ray dear sir, there are six copies of the Trottuigton Mercury on the table of the Athenaeum Club, and it is difficult to get bold of one of them ; yet no one reads any part of it but the ‘Poets’ Corner.’ ” “Not Trottingtpn, Trottingbury Mer cury. Well, ■ I*ll go on with my story. One evening, I had just finished my ‘imi tations of Anacreon,’ and had' taken them to the office of the Trottingbury Mercury. The last feeble flicker of twilight was about, to give way to the solemn darkness of night. ' There .was a holy stillness, a quiet calm about the hour, that seemed to soften the heart, to prepare it for gentle impressions. In front of the office of the Trottingbury Mercury is a garden. There, roses should vie with geraniums, the grace ful woodbine should twine round the trellis work.'aiid the stately lily should be there in the pride of her virgin purity ; but I regret to say it is - planted with potatoes. In this garden there are two gates. 1 was going down the path which leads to one of them,- and repeating a beautiful stanza of my own composition. (I never read the works of other people, it destroys origi nality of thought.)'- As I was going down this path, I chanced to look- towards the other gate: a fairy form was passing through it. I will not attempt to describe the beauties of tjiat glorious vision. I rushed straight across the garden in chase ; but the potato stalks tripped me up, and 1 fell, sprained my apkle, and was incapaci tated for further pursuit. 1 limped back t'j the office, and asked the clerk — “ ‘Who is that divine creature, who has just left your office !” *• That,’ said lie, grinning, ‘ls a con tributor to our Poets’ Corner.” ’ ! “ ‘She is a poetess, then —I knew it j must be st). What is her name I’ ALTOONA., PA., SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1864. “ Won’'!, do,’ said the clerk, with his tongue in Ins cheek, f she wishes to remain incoij.' “ Bathed in my inquiries. I returned to my couch, but not to sleep. That vision still haunted me; I thought of the white hand, the raven locks, the taper ankle, the' tiddly-iddly feet. Evening after evening did I lie’in wait before the olljec, in hopes of again meeting her. but in vain. Things went on so for a month,, and every day I feel deeper in love, my appetite diminish ed, and J lost nearly two pounds in weight. At length a happy inspiration came upon rue. 1 would pour out my soul in poetry, I would tell my love in tire • Poets’ Corner ’ of the Trottingbury Mercury. She was a poetess, she would read it: the sympathy which exists be tween kindred minds would tell her that she was the object address d I wrote the lines entitled ‘A Glorious twilight Vision ’ Never in my most inspired moments had I so successfully portrayed the inward work ings of the tender passion : for I then only imagined them, now 1 felt them. 1 will just repeat you those lines.” “ Pray don’t sir: 1 remember them well.” '■ I IV*it sure that she to whom they were 'addressed would read them, and re ply : and J was not deceived. The-next time I went to the office the clerk said : ‘There is a letter here, meant for you, I suppose.’ It was directed: 4 Bee troot, Esq., contributor to the “Poets' Corner” ol the Trottingbury Mercury.’ The dear girl evidently did nof understand Greek, and. by the similarity of sound was led into this very pardonable mistake. It showed she wasn't a blue-stocking, and I rejoiced at it. “To make a long story short, we com menced a correspondence, but have never met; but this day she has given me a rendezvous at Putsch's, the pastry-cook, in Cornhill. It is in honor of this occa sion that I wear for the first time those garments, the titling of which you so justly admire.” “And the camellia, I suggested, “ don’t you think that a budding rose would he more emblematic ofyour rising hopes > If so, I think 1 could manage to get you one.” “ By no means : I should have told you that is our signal for recognition : we are each to wear a white camellia over the heart.” How truly lias it been said that the first step in crime is the only difficult one! FacileM .&-•/ deacensus Avcrni. I had begun by coveting the one camellia, and resolving to obtain it by fair means, if possible. 1 now resolved to resort to the foulest means, if necessary, for its capture, and to use it as a decoy to obtain the other- white camellia now in the possession of the poetess ut Trottingbury. To what a precipice was my passion for white camel lias hurrying me ! As it was essential to prove his identity in the coming rendezvous, it was evidently useless to try to persuade him to give it to me : my only chance was to steal It, or take it bv force. Calling his attention to some objects on the roadside, I dexterously severed the stalk with a tap from my cane, and slipped the flower into my pocket, un perccived. I then said that, though I had read and learned by heart the contents of the “ Poets’ Corner ” in the Trottingbury Mercury, it would still be a treat to hear some of these chefs (feeuvre repeated by the author. He needed no preying. Without once thinking ot liis camellia, he favored me with an uninterrupted stream of poetry till our arrival at Waterloo Station. I then took a hurried leave of hint, jumped into a qab, and, transferring the camellia from my pocket to my button-hole, drove to Fursell’s to complete my conquest. We soon arrived there. Being in a capital humor, I was about to give the cabman a double fare. But what!—how is that .' I tried my pockets one after another ; no purse ; the cabman began to eye me suspiciously. My good man,” said I, “ I find that I have lost my purse, but my portmanteau is a sufficient guarantee for the payment of yopr fare. Drive me to Lincoln’s Inn Fields, I have a friend there wly> will lend me some - money. The cabman saw the ■Ju a tice, of. my remark, and drove me to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where my friend re ceived me with open arms, and placed his purse at my -disposal.” The journey was rather an expensive one for me, for not only was my purse gone, but my watch and a valuable gold snuff-box. It appeared that the poet and 1 had been intent on similar designs ; but while my ambition extended no further than white camellias, he had a weakness for articles of value and current coin of the realm. It is needless to add, that I did not re turn to I-’ursell’s to cjjmpletu my conquest, nor have I ever ag-.m» met my friend the poet. -gp* X Courtly negro recently sent a re ply to an invitation, in''which he regretted “that circumstances' repugnant to the ac quiesce would prevent his acceptance to the invite.” [INDEPENDENT ril EVERYTHING.] S how the farmer sold the In most of what are called “market towns,” in England, it was customary to have an “ ordinary,” or what is called the market dinner, given at most of the prin cipal inns of the place, where farmers as well as others who had come to attend the' market, came to partake of a plain but substantial dinner ; and these would after ward sit and enjoy their pipe and pot of beer, or glass of punch, before they betook themselves to the road on their homeward drive. ' ‘ After such a dinner, there had congre gated around a table filled with bright silver beer cans and brighter glasses, the usual miscellaneous assemblage of guests, *l* C Among these was a commercial traveller, bagman or packman, as they are termed, whose chief aim seemed to be to surprise the country pumpkins, as he considered them, with the vast extent of his acquire ments and cockney wisdom. It so hap pened that he was seated next to a portly old farmer, of a ihost benignant aspect, who had the appearance of being, what indeed he was, well gifted with this world’s' goods; and tp him bur traveller expatiated on the delights of a farmer's life, disclosing in many instances his profound ignorance of matters that he so glibly and knowingly spoke about, to the great internal amuse* ment of his listeners; and finally he de clared if he could get a farm to suit him he should like to turn to farming for an occupation. ■ “ If that be your desire,” said the old farmer, “ I am just the man that can suit you ; I am, as you see, no longer young. I have made money enough without doing another day’s work; and as 1 see you are a smart young man, who knows a great deal and deserves encouragement, I will sell out to you on terms that may be con sidered favorable, and they are these: 1 hold a lease on my farm for a yet unex pired term of many years ; I have between 30 and 40 fine beef cattle ; I have 20 fine cows, none better in the country ; 13 good horses as ever drew a plough, besides a flock of between 300 and 400 sheep, of course with the usiial amount of poultry, and in fact, Ml tlie profitable live stock belonging to such a farm. Now what 1 propose to do for you is, that I will trans fer the lease of my farm over to you, for which you slilill not pay a penny, except the lawyer’s fees lor the transfer. As for the farming u'ensils. they shall go as part of-the farm, and all I will ask for the live stock, is one shilling per bead, all found (our readers should understand that in England a.pigeon would cost a shilling.) The astonishment of those who had been till then somewhat amused listeners at this offer, was hardly less than of the eager traveller, vvlm readily accepted the Offer of our farmer '; but fearful there should be a In a quiet street of the Marais —which purpose to hoax him into a fruitless jour- is the Sleepy hollow of Paris—lives a re ney to the farm, when perhaps he might tired tradesman who has accumulated a be laughed at for his credulity, our London respectable competency of fortune, say friend told; him what he should propose $60,006, by selling sugar-moulds. He would not offend the farmer, but in all bu- had one child, a daughter, who had grown siness it was bast to have a up to the eve of womanhood. On the good understanding, therefore they should same floor with him and his family lived at once proceed to a notary to have the a handsome young fellow of five-and decd attested, with a fine of £5O sterling* twenty, with dainty black moustaches, to be paid by either party who refused to and a pair of blue eyes such as an artist ratify the proposed transaction. would endow innocence or hope withal. “ Certainly, I agree to your request, and e - dressed well, too. The two neighbors 1 can see in it nothing to offend me ;on met ® vel T day on the staircase. y-m> the contrary, 1 ani pleased to see a young they bowed when they met. One ay man so business-like in his ways.” * little incld f nt occurred which led to con- As there were rjo lack of witnesses, they versation, this superinduced something at once proceeded jo the office of a notary, w bWh in turn brought something else had the agreemenli made out, the day duly until the concatenation of circum uppointed for its consummation, subject to stances ended in seeing the yonng man in the line of fifty pounds sterling on either troduced into the drawing-room of the re party who should withdraw from the “red sugar-mould dealer. Acquaintance 'bargain gradually ripened into a sort of intimacy v Now as time brings all things about, around the table where draughts and chess lime also brought the appointed day for «"d backgammon were played, especial y selling the live-stock and making a trails- fts *•» joung man (though passionately fer of the farm,' and if our Londoner was of all . theBe innocent games) contrived before pleased with his bargain, how much never to win a cent, but left some of his more was he pleased with the trim and lnone y ir | “ ie hands of his hosts. Ihe well cultivated fields he saw, which were heireBs ol the house > accustomed to see no part of the farm that lie came to possess. other young man, soon became touched by The first place he was taken to was a sheep ber young neighbor, and the parents were walk, where there were SCO sheep. These not .averse from a marriage between them, were at once put down at a shilling a lieadpl Nevertheless the subject had never been next there was seen in a meadow 36 fine broached, until one evening the young beeves; there were also in another field ma p forgot behind him several letteEß, 20 fine milch cows; in short, everything seemed to have slipped from laa corresponded with the description heretp- -anuly read them letters, fore given by the farmer. In fact the You may judge the contents or thetti all poultry would have averaged more than by one of tbeni: two shillings a head from any'dealer in ■ Touloh, June 18, 1564. that article. When they were through : “ ily Dear Nephew: — T didnot send yon taking the cattle and all the poulUy, the • to Paris for you to be fanner asked to have the sum added up, Your last letters are filled with the details and seemed to be surprised that the amount ;of a petty romance, which 1 dare say did not reach over about eighty pounds. : boarding-school girls would ■ deem very ■* Well," said he, “ this is a better bar- touching, you have begun W reed with a gain than I intended you should have; | little girl named Celeste. lam no board however, a bargain is a bargain, be it ing-schooLgirl, and I do not fancy non good or bad, and so we will finish with sense. 1 have pot laid up $200,000 by what remains.” Indian voyage* these twenty! years gone Imagine the happy and elate step of our to see my nephew and only heir with his I Londoner, as he followed bis friend back aristocratic appearaneje aqd name marry a ito the substantial looking farm house, Mdlle. the daughter; pf a dealer which henceforth be should proudly call in sugar-moulds. Ho not mention that , his own. Still he wondered within him- girl’s name to meagain, or I be very . self what the ..farmer meant bywhat re- angry with you. Kememberj that lam to I mains,” already debating within himself you just what my pppr brother tliat is whether he prould allow cats -iaead ami gone waa—your faiUeii.t and lie, entered on the schedule as kftow, would inever have COCKNEY. stock, but all such thoughts were dissipated when he was led into a handsomely en closed flower garden, where a : profusion of flowers scented the air around. Now did our cockney admire the scene, and make inward promises of enjoyment in the future. When near (he end of the garden walk they came loan excellently arranged apiary. “Here, my friend, ’’ said the farmer, “is the remainder of my live Stock, and they yield an excellent profit, as the honey they produce is allowed to be the best in our county. There be, if you will count them, 40 hives containing say on an average 15,000 bees in each hive, or if you doubt the number you may count these also, but you may take ray word for it (hat the number are not overstated, so this will give us 000,000 bees, which at a shilling a head, will make the bargain not look so bad as at first appeared to me.” Imagine the aghast look of ; our bag man ; instead of possessing a farm almost at a gift, here was a small item, 30,000 pounds, added, three times the value of the farm, and a sum much beyond his power to raise. In fact, he could sobner have raised the d 1, and to look at him he was half inclined to do so, but that the witnesses present, who teemed to enjoy the thing very much, were all stalwart men, to whom, or in whose presence, it was prudent to keep civil • so he owned up that instead of buying he was soldi and was ready to pay down his $3O. " Well,” said the farmer, whio now tor the first time enjoyed a hearty laugh, in which all, with the exception of the Lon doner, joined, “ I am glad you take the thing so coolly; but as for money, I do not want it myself, but you shall be my almoner—and your first act shall be to send two pounds to Dick Hopkins, the/ wagoner, who has lain six weeks in bed with both legs broken, and has a wife and five children to maintain :—and for the remainder of the money, just/give some when you see occasion and can spare it, to any deserving poor fellow who niay want it more than either of us. Andiuow, lads, dinner is on the table, so let’s in, and per haps I can find you as good a glass of port as you will find in the county.” , The dinner was excellent, having appa rently been prepared for the occasion. Many a joke was passed about; the sharp ness of Londoners, and the simplicity of country people, hut having got; off minus only two pounds instead of fifty, and an excellent dinner with good wine, made our traveller joke and laugh with the rest. Nor did the friends he then and there made, render the adventure in the end an un profitable one. ■ / A PARISIAN ROMANCE, EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS allowed you to be guilty of any such stupid proceeding. “Your affectionate uncle. “ George de R The next morning the young fellow (his name was Ernest) returned, apparently very uneasy. He said ho had left k>me letters behind him, he believed, there, and inquired if they had -seen them. The sugar-mould dealer confessed his indiscre tion, and bade Ernest break relations with them, as it was evident from these letters that he could never marry Celeste. This summons seemed to throw the young man into deep despair. He replied: “Wait a little longer, and I will endeavor to change my uncle’s resolution, for I feel that if Ido not I shall die.” The sugar moulds dealer said: “ I will waitfor the truth was, he desired to marry his daughter to the young man, who seemed to possess every quality that a reasonable lathcr-in-law could ask for in a son. t'everal weeks ■ passed away, when one morning Ernest ran joyously into his neighbor’s drawing-room, holding in his hand a letter post-marked Toulon, and from the uncle 1 who came so near ship wrecking his happiness. The letter run : “Mr Deau Nephew —As far as your marriage is concerned, do as you please. I only wished to test your affection and to he sure that your sentiments for Mdlle. Celeste was no caprice but real love. Time has proved your affection to bo sin cere. Marry her. Ido not know whether my gout will allow me to go up to Paris for your wedding; but at all events 1 shall, engage one of my friends to give you every thing necessary to enable you to marry yourself, decently. It lam unable to go up to Paris to your wedding, you must , spend your honeymoon here. To see you. happy will rejuvenate me.” This letter satisfied Celeste’s father, and Jjie wedding day was fixed. Ernest re fused to hAve a marriage-contrast; he wanted everything he had to belong to his wife. Celeste’s father-in-law wciit several limes with Eugene to the notary who had the money sent up by the Toulon uncle, but he was discreet enough to remain at the door outside while his future son-in lawvwas transacting business. At last all the “ papers” required by the French law were received; the certificate of birth bore an honorable name, The banns were published at the ma3'or’s office and church, and the wedding-feast ordered. Everything was ready —but the uncle wrote that he had such a violent attack of the gout that it was utterly impossible for him to leave his chamber. It became necessary to dispense with the uncle’s presence. Misfortune never comes alone! On the wedding-day Ernest experienced additional ill-luck; his two groomsmen and bis tailor disappointed him ; but as the tailor was one of the great tailors pf Paris, who are always overwhelmed with , work, and of course cannot be expected f o be punctual—besides have not all tailors a charter which enables them to accom pany all of their promises with a mental reservation? At the last moment the clothes came; the absent groomsmen’s places were taken by kinsmen of the bride. They went to the mayor’s office and to, the churchy the civil and ecclesiastic;! ’ were uttered by both parties ; m.« asn™gr priest proclaimed them man •' 3, 0 •■? Then the marriage-feast was ar'-S' *, £ restaurant on the boulevard,- .. men''was followed by a ball. Although it was midnight when the bridal pair retired, the husband was such an active, industrious fellow that by six o’clock in the morning he was dressed and out “Attending to im portant business for his uncle at Toulon.” At nine o’clock the roantua-maker called to present her bill for the wedding-clothes. Celeste’S mother went to the drawer where' she had laid the money for all the wedding • expenses—not a cent could she find there. She asked her. husband to go into the bridal-chamber across the landing to gt‘ Ernest to lend her the money, to avoid making the mantua-maker return. He found Ernest had gone out, and poor Ce leste oyer head and ears in bills sent in by the tradesmen from whom Ernest had bought the wedding-presents, and among them was one bill of which she could make nothing; it was a bill from an old clothes dealer for the “loan of a wedding-suit.” As Ernest could not be gone long, all in quiries were postponed for the present; but twelve o’clock came without bringing } Ernest. One o’clock—no Ernest. Two I o’clock—ho Ernest. Yon may imagine j how Celeste wept! Three o’clock—no Elrnest; but it brought an old friend of I the family who had just discovered—on* ' fortunately twenty-seven boon, too late— that Ernest was a tickel-of-leave man, who had been sent to the hulks fur- forgery and swindling; that he had that morning drawn all his wife’s money, and had taken the Havre steamship for New York! If was he who had robbed his.failier-m-law’s house before the famiw».were up. He carried off some s2s,oofjp|r $30,000 in gold with him. Suit has been brought the family to annul the maniage, dnd in the course of the trial all'the above facts ■ came out in evidence. Tim uncle at Tpu lon was a ticket-of-leave man, who, $l,OOO had played a part in the coopity ' NO. 35.