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 ad<tad largely t->slock 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*
<n«iv»*ni from tht* K«sl, wlienf tie Um
5k of
WINTER GQOES,
av an»i pri’c.;:, in -
. , liio i> 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,
k<?pt in u l)rv G'kxU Store,
; J. A. SI’RAN'KLK.
DYECOLORS
October 3 Kjli, Ifefi.V
c Mrt Cr'm. ’
■ - >vA\ Light C,-«u.
<t JX )g Vai*.
' 9*3 (‘ ( Mtro, ‘ n -
V/S~
* \ /,W PUrpit,
I N /n'ft.
N.V/.V,
I S'-’lerino,
s*v IV
yf JV-uoMv
Ml ini Mj-TW|«. SCAfft,
ihit', Feathers,
'MM:- am! all
j| ei.
<IK rf:-' r J*KR PENT.
i . olor av nuiiv £...-Ka* would «>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 * <!»•*■ over olh-
M* 4 vecWf*-*.) purchase ilowe £ St»-
»#T and o'>{>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,
<T er*.*ry farmer, butcher or th>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.