Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, October 31, 1862, Image 1

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    Che Democratic atc
VOL. 7.
~ 25a gr
NO. 42.
_ Select Posty.
Bessie Lee.
I am sitting alone in the gloamirg,
Ard my thoughts are going back
To & time I wel! can remember,
When these thin, white locks were black.
I heat the solemn footfall
Of the ghostly days of yore ;
And memory comer with the moonlight,
Aud sits upon my floor.
This gorgeous room seems fading,
With ite full and perfect grace,
And low-ceiled, white-washed walls
Are eoming in its place.
1 s00 a quaint, b-own cottage,
Its gables covered with moss ;
1 hear a mountain torrent,
And I see a gray stone cross.
That marks the place where a traveler,
Was thrown from his horse and died,
Asbe went to claim, in the vale below,
Hie long, long promised bride.
How oft have I sat down by it,
And wondered if it was well
{As the minister said it was)
Till my child-heart would rebel
For I thought of her giant sorrows
Of the bitter cry shh gave,
While we atood gathéred around her,
As they lowered hith into the grate.
But long since sortsw has taught me
To yield to the will of God—
Een to the taking of treasures
And laying them under the sod.
And I knew that the Giver of memory
But meaneth it for good.
When he leads me back in fancy
To the places where I've stood.
Nad I been content to have stayed there,
I reading my father's ways,
Filling the fields in pummer,
In autumu harvesting maire.
Hed I been content to have dwelt there,
And married sweet Beseio Les,
Rhe night have lived and I been spared
The woe that’a killing me.
But the hills seemed haiti to my vision,
Till my heaft Lad not room to heat,
And the mountings of my ambition
Shut oat her jicturo sweet.
Laat night she stood hefors me,
And her brown eyes held thetears
As they did that nizht we parted,
Far down in the vale of yénra.
I loved her though [ left hor,
And God knows I meant sineere,
When I told her I would come again
In the waning of the year.
But the world held many a charm,
Whose power I'd yet to try,
Aud when the dead leaves drifted
Beneath an autumn sky,
{ was a weddod husband
To one of fairer fold—
Of prouder name and lineage,
And a store of shining gold.
I waa proud whon I stood beside her,
And saw her diamonds gleam,
ut the sweet lost face of Hossie
Would somelimes eome between.
With which my friend, Doct. Jas. West.
a confirmed ‘old bachelor of forty, and the
richest and handsomest old gentleman, 1
knew of, leisurely pulled out a cigar case,
daintily selected a weed, and proceeded with
great deliberacion and nicety to ignite it.—
And I had laid down my book —‘The Death
of Abel’—over which I had been dreaming ;
and selecting a soft rock, lounged lazily
back, and prepared to listen to another va
riation of the old, old siory.
«It was rather a dismal spot, was Black
Beach,’ resumed the docior, puffing out
clouds of scented smoke,and watching them
curling fantastically up in the air. ‘and the
last place in the world I should have thought
of going to for pleasure. But opinions dif
fer on subjects. My pretty little friend, Jes
sie Masters, had gone there for pleasure ; and
therefore, behold me, one -bleak, windy
evening, tip toing over the slippery shingles
and soft sands of Black Beach. The other
and lesser reason was, my old college chum.
Warren—Dr. Warren, the village practi
tioner ; and as I had not set eyes on him
for a year, or more, [ was anxious to shake
his honest old hantl again ; but the other
was the reason that led me first to discover
that there ever was such a place as Black
Beach at all.
+“ You were in love with Miss Masters, I
suppose,” suggested I.
“ Notatall! 1had never set eyes on
her but once in my life—fact. I assure you,
my dear child! Yousee,” said the doctor,
taking out his cigar, and poking the lighted
end against the nose of an inquisitive toad:
that came hopping along the rock, “I was
confoundedly hard up, hadn't a cent to bless
myself with, and nothing remained for me
bat to take to highway robbery or to marry
a rich wife. I had met Miss Masters abotit
two months before, at a ball; had danced
with her; fanned her ; helped her to ices:
taken her down to supper; cloaked her :
pressed one taper finger at parting; and
strove to make myself generally the oppo
site of loathsome to her. How I succeeded
I could never rightly make out; for Dame
Fortune decreed I should not see her again
fot one while ; and Miss Masters was alto-
gether too smart a girl to wear her heart on
her sleeves for daws to peck at. * I knew at
the time she was an heiress, but thought
little of it. till I got into such a fix on the
subject of spare change ; and then it came
to me like an inspiration from above, that
she was just the girl for me. Mrs. Grundy
sad she had gone to Black Beach, where
she had a relation or two, for the benefit of
sea bathing and sea breczes ; and therefore,
yours truly found himself, much against his
wiil, at Black Beach too. Don't you see
the point
“I sceit—goon?
‘I think [ mentioned, away back there in
my first chapter, that the evening was raw
and gusty. Some sickly sunbeams were
glancing fretfully aslant the slippery stones,
and heaps of glittering sea weed thrown up
by the waves, but the sky was dull and
dark, and threatening rain. ‘The misty
marshes in front were pale blanks of sea
fog ; the reeds, and rushes, and rank wild
tlowers—blue, yellow, and flame color—
And at times a troublous fa icy
Would make my pulses th.ill.
And stir [n my heart at pight(all
Like a dr ad of coming ill
At lang h there eattio a message
That told of my sire'adecay— |
. Baid my mother’s spirit, toa, had passed © |
To a better land away.
At spoke of n sister's marriags,
daid a brother had gone to sen.
And then it told of a dying one --
Of gentle Bessio Lee. :
. {
Lt said she had faded slowly,
Lik. light from the evening sky,
And now inthe heart of summer,
She was lying down to die. |
‘There rose’in my heart a passion
Qo visit the valley again,”
Tostand by the graves of my kind red,
And her my pride had slain.
I went, the turf was broken,
Under the grav eyard trees,
And the name on the newest headstone,
Alas ! was Bessio Lee's.
Cross-Eyed. 7
“Where are you going, my pretty maid?’
“I'm going a milking, sir,” she said ;
‘What is your fortune, my pretty maid?"
‘My face is my fortune, sir,”’ she said,
“Then I can’t marry you my pretty maid.”
Nobody asked you, sir,’ she said.
‘ The waves came thundering in on the
shore, surge after surge breaking over the
rocks in sheets of foam ; the wind came
wildly from the east, raw and chill, though
the month was July; and the scene, in
fact, was very much like this, except that,
a8 it was twenty years ago, I was younger
then, and she—if you'll excuse my saying
it ag rather better looking than you, my
ad! But this puts me in mind of
ideal ; for she used to sit perched
cks, in the hot sunshine, as you are
avw, and 1 used to lie at her feet, in the
tall grass, all the long, lazy, summer days,
and read poetry, and talk sentiment, and
smoke cigars —I'll smoke ome now, if -you
| sweet, over them all met my ear.
were dancing hornpipes in the stift blast ;
and the straight, prim populars and low ces
dars, growing up the steep banks of rock,
writhed and groaned in a sort of dumb,
Dryad agony of their own. The prospect,
on any side, was not a very cheering one--
it was a long way to Beach Hotel, my des-
tination for the present—and the tide was
rising so rapidly, 1 begen to fear I would
have to leave the beach and pursuc my way
through the misty, muddy marsh, not admi-
ring the notion much I was beginning to me
asure off the ground in tremendous strides,
| when « new sound, which was neither the
raging cast wind, the booming of the sea or
tie groaning of the trees but arose clear and
It wasa
| ¥nice singing—a soprano voice, too—and,
turning round a sharp jag of rocks I distinct-
ly saw the singer, and heard the words—
words that I remember to this day :
‘On a wrinkled rock, in a distant sea,
Three wild gannets satin the sun 1
They ehook the brine from their feathers so fine,
And lazily, one by one,
They sunnily slept while the tempest crept.
In a painted boat, on a distant sea,
Three fowlers sailed merrily on ;
Ard each took aim, as he came near the game,
And che gannets fell, one by one,
And fluttered aud died, while the tempest sighed
‘ Then a cloud came over the distant fea,
A darkness came over the sun ,
And g storm-wind smote on the painted boat,
And the fowlers sank, oue by one,
Down, down, with their craft, while the tempo t
* It was a weird and ghostly thing to be
sung at that weird and ghostly hour, in that
weird and ghostly place ; and I stared at the
weird singer aghast, lest she should turn
out to be some weird and ghostly mermaid,
nowly risen from some sea green cave. Not
but that the dress and occupation of the
damsel were unghostly enough, for the
first was a very pink calico, that fluttered
like a gay banner in the teeth of the wind,
and the second was sitting up to the waist
in the marsh grass and reed blossoms, and
mending a lot of old nets. Her back was
toward we, so I could watch her unobsery-
ed : and I noted, with Jeep approbation, the
pretty, slender figure ; the white and busy
hands flashing in and out with needle and
mesh block ; the profusion of fair, brown
ha.r fluttering and floating in the wind— for
her bonnet was tied to the branch of a tree.
have 00 0djeation.’
So she sat and netted, and I stood and star |
ed, tor fully twenty minutes ; and then, as
if her task were finished, she gathered up
the nets in a heap. put the needle and mesh
in her pocket, and throwing herself back
among the rushes and reeds witha look of
relief, turned her wandering glance directly
to where I s'ood. At sight of her face, I
fairy bounded. I knew it well. I should think
so, when it was in search of that very face I
had come all the way to Black Beach. For
this sea nymph mending nets on the solitary
shor: was none other than Miss Jessie Mas-
ters, the heiress and belle ; and I recognized
het at once, by # certain little peculiarity,
tintheationable before. Miss Jessie was a
very pretty girl - every one admitted that.
Her figure was perfection ; so were her
hair, her hands. her fect, her smile, her
teeth. her complexion ; but Miss Jessie was
cross.eyed !
* There ! you need not stare in that tragic
manner ; it was quite true, and no one, ex-
cept the envious belles she outshone, ever
thought of calling it a defect, There are
some people in. whom crooked eyes are an
additional beauty, It gives a bewitching
and roguish charm to the glances which
flash from all fair eyes ; and if Miss Jessie's
had been petfectly straight, like other peo
ples, I believe her beauty would have lost
half its piquancy.
¢ Then, from the momen! I saw these
bright, brown eyes uplified to mine, 1 rec~
ognized the owner with an amount of amaze
ment no one can describe ; but the compli
ment was unicturced ; for not one word of
memory was written 1n their shining depths:
She did not even move. She lay perfectly
still, the pretty face kissed brown and rosy
with sun and wind turned toward me, a lit-
tle surprised, a little curious; but not in the
least electrified and overcome.
¢ A trifle provoke at this uncomplimen-
tary forgetfulness, 1 determined to meet her
on her own ground ; and stepping forvrard,
and raising my hat, addressed her as'a per
fect stranger :
* 1 beg your pardon ; but will you have
the goodnegs to tell me if that old house
over there on the bank is the Black Beach
* Yes.
* How long before I can get there ?
* The distance from here is about a mile.
The length of time it will take you to reach
it depends a good deal on the rate you walk
at.’ . .
¢ Oh, thank you—quite enlightened ! said
IL inwardly, and wondering if she were try-
ing to remember me ; fur all this time the
pretty, brown, crooked eyes had been com-
posedly s aring me fuliin the face. Now
she turned them away, for the first time,
and glanced at the waves, which had risen
to within two or three yards of our feet.—
Following her look, [ saw something I had
not observed before, a bright, Little batean,
painted white, encircled by a green stripe,
and with the name ‘Jessie’ pated inside,
rising and falling on the glassy swell. I
turned from the prospect in dire dismay.
* How the tide has risen? Ishall never
be able to reach the hotel by the beach.”
The young lady looked lazily at it, with a
half smile.
¢I should think not, unless you are an
extraordinary good swimmer; but then,
there are the marshes.’
¢ And the mire! said I, looking down
dolefully at my patent leather boots.
Miss Jessie laughed, and sprang to her
feet, as a long crested swell dashed the salt
spray up in our very faces,
* The waves are coming a little too near
for cowfort, and this raw east wind is not
the best thing in the world to be out in. If
you aie particularly anxious to reach the
hotel to-night, yoa can come in my boat, if
you choose ; but if we stay here much long-
er, we will get washed away to parts une
known ; and going over the marshes yon
may probably find yourself up to the neck in
a quagmire, before you would know it.’
¢ At this passage in her discourse, deliv~
ered with most oft hand easiness, the young
lady g:thered up the nets in her arms, and
tripped down with a light, elastic step, to
the boat. ''hrowing the nets in the bottom
she made a motion for me to follow them,
which I did, in a state of helpless astor.ish~
ment, and watch her, in the same wondering
bewilderment, push oft, step in, unfurl the
sail, secure it, and take her seat aft to
8 eer. For my part, | knew as much about
managing a boat as I did about managing a
baby ; and I could only sit in a mingled stats
of terror and admiration, while we literally
flew along in the high breeze in the direction
of the hoiel. It was a silent sail ; but among
all the scenes of the past, nothing has ever re.
mained so vividly pictured in my memory as
* The dull and dark evening.the angry sur-
ging wind beating in our faces ; the black and
| threatening sky above ; the black and foam
| crested sea bel ww; the dim and fogsladen
| marshes ; the long semicircuiar strip of beach
| sweeping round to the hotel ; the seagulls
and stormy-petrels, wheeling round and
| round in dizzying circles, bru-hing the tops
of the vraves with their flapping wings, and
| uttering, shrilly, scream after scream; the
lighthouse in the distance, with its only dull
| eye of fire flaring in and out in the wind ;
| the little white boat skimming the tops of
the waves as lightly as the sea-gulls, with
one small, rosy figuere si ting straight and
erect in the stern, the pink dress and brown
hair streaming far behind her, the pale, grave
face and dark brown eyes turned to the shore
we trere nearing, on the high bank of which
stood a great, solitary house, with lights
glancing like stars form window to window
Yes, T see 1t all, as brightly now as I did
that evening ; and I see, too, the figure
crouching before the blast on one of the
thwarts, clutching his hat in both hans in
in the energy of desperation, to keep it from
blowing nto the regions of eternal space.
With a sharp, grating sound, the boat ran
jup on the sand, and was tossed by the surf
high and dry.
* Here we are!’ cried the spirited voize of
Miss Jessie, leaping our as lightly as she had
leaped in, and there is the hotel you are in
search of.’
* While I was scrambling out, almost as
airily as a crab might in similar circumstans
ces, this astonisher of a girl had secured her
boat; tied her bonnet moré determinedly
under her chin, with its azure ribbons ; gath
ered the bundle of nets under onearm ; slung
(wo light oars, painted white and green,
over her sheulder ; and went springing from
jag to jag up the clifts, as nimbly as a
mountain fairy. laden only with laurel leaves,
But, on dry land, 1 was at least her match;
So, striding after her with tremendous sweeps
of limb, 1 was soon again by her side.
‘Mademoiselle, may [ have the pleasure of
carrying those oars for you 2¢
‘The bright, flushed face. and wicked eyeS
glanced round at mea moment, in alaugh
ing suprise.
+0. I thaiik you, I am used to it, and prefer
carrying them myself, and, besides, we are
just at home.’
¢ Then you are stopping here too, Mis
Jessie 7
* Again the surprised face glanced up at
* Certainly, T am staying here, but how do
you know my name ? Oh, [ suppose you
saw it boat though.’ ,
“1 have had the honor of knowing your
natne before to day, Miss, Masters, and of
Speaking to you too. Have you altogether
forgotten Mrs. Oleander’s ball ¥’
* [ am afraid 1 have,” replied Miss Jessie,
with an odd little smile that puzzled te cx-
+ I ¢rew out my card case, and handed her
a card.
* Perhaps this will refresh your memory .
I have not forgotten, if you have, that last
delightful waltz we had on that evening.’
* With the same queer smile she looked at
the card, and then at me. still smiling.
* No, Doctor West, memory is dumb, and
will not tell a word of that night. But
whether or not we have been friends in the
past, 1 have no doubt we shall be very good
friends for the future.’
¢ She laughed with a sort of free careless’
good nature, that seemed hab itual to her,
and disappeared througt. a dark doorway. —
Two or three men, who weré lounging ab-
out, came forward at my approach. and I
soon enserted my autograph in the hotel re.
gister, and was shown up to a charming
little room curtained, carpeted and easy
chaired, with a bright wood fire sparkling
on the hearth, and by no means unaccepta-
ble. though the month was July, A moon
faced jolly looking gentleman, mine host
himself, brought me up some supper, and
answered the brief catechism I saw fit to put
I bad fifty questions to ask about Miss Jes
sie ; but I far d my inquisitiveness might
roach her ears, and damage mv cause, I had
to goin a roundabout and circumspect way,
about it, ¢ Yes," Boniface said, * times were
precious dull at present ; and nobody cared
for heaving away their money on sea bathing
leastways if they did, they dido’t come to
Black Beach. There wasn’t more than a
dozen folks in the house just now, and they
were pri cipally down with consumpt on.
asthma Bronchitis and other trifling annoy -
ances of that sort; but if Black Beach and
Doctor Warren failed to cure them, then
their cases must be obstinate indeed.’—
This led to a long digression about my
friend Watren; his skill; his popularity ;
His fast increasing wealth ; but not one
word of the rose cheeked brown eyed l.ttle
dear, who had ferried me over, and being
like most medical students #nd young doc-
tors, very bashful—you needn’t laugh, its
truth I'm telling—I determinedto leave the
matter to time and my own ingenuity.
+ Next morning when I got up, it was
raining; and aed; and sky, and marshes were
all drenched and dismal alike ; nevertheless
1 made a very scrupulous toilet, gave my
handkerchief a small shower of rose water,
brushed my curls, till every hair was 1n its
own peculiar kink ; pulled down my vest
straigatened my necktie; nodded complacent”
ly to myself fn the mirror ; and went down
stairs to complete the conquest of Miss Jes-
sie Masters. When I entered the room, ev-
erybody was there and a dazzling looking
setthey were ; limpy young ladies, with sky
blue complexions ; young men drooping like
broken parsnips ; sere and yellow spinsters
and faded and fretted matrons; all come
all come down here to get rejuvenated up
again. In the midst of ‘the ghastly array,
my little Jessie bloomed out like the deli~
cious little rosebud she was ; and welcomed
me, as I took my seat beside her, with the
smile of an angel.
“A wet day in a hotel ira dismal thing
enough. And no sooner was breakfast over
here, than everbody went lounging abou
and wandering drearily from room to room,
and from window to window. But I took
care not to let time lia too heavy on my
hands, for I followed Jessie into the ladies
parlor, and got her to play and sing for me.
Then we had a game of billiards ; then we
played chess; and then we talked. She
told tne about her boat, her horse. her dog,
und her love for the sea, and black beach,
wild and lonely as it was; but she never
spoke of the city, and talked of this as if it
had been her home all her life. It piiziled
me somewhat at first, and I kept on refering
to places in town, that [ was certain she
knew ; but she only .aughed, and gave me a
queer glance out of the wicked browtt eyes,
and kept her whim wéll. People in our sit-
uation cooped up together in a great, hotel,
make rapid progress in their acquaintance’
shin ; and before night we were as great
friends as if we had known each other for
‘I wish T conld tell my dear, how the
time passed during the next two weeks ¢ but
the wind is coming up cold over the bay,
so I must wind up and let you go in. I can
tell you one thing. however, that notwith
standing my anxicty to see Warr n, I found
Black Beach so attractive, I never went nea,
Lim until at the end of the first week he
came to the hotel himself and found me
there. Jessie and T were mseperable. The
Siamese twins were a trifle to us; all the
hot sunny days we went wandering over the
dry arid marshes; gathering great clusters
of wild Howers_and plucking basket fulls of
the blue berries that hung in great purplish
bunches on every hand. We scrolled over
the long white sandy beach, and above on
the reedy sedgy banks, over the sand hills 3
and when the tide was out, across the black
bare bar. We went sailing in Jessie's little
boat, and she taught me torow and we fist.o}
sometimes for lobsters, and caught them too
and sometimes to vary these sentimental oc’
cupations, we read poetry together, and
sang together, and enjoyed ourselves in
much the same innocent way that Adam and
Eve mus: have done, long ago in Paradise
before the serpent came. The serpent en
tered our Eden soon enough, and as it hap.
pened, it was 1 brought him there my-
¢ One day 1 had been down to the village
with Warreif ; and we had talked 4 good
deal of Miss Masters, and there was a
warmth fi his manner, ang a look in his
eyes that [ didn’t half like, considering the
subject. [saw that he was smitten with
the little darling—as indeed every voung
man in the hotel, for that matter. I didn't
mind them poor young things! but Doctor
Warren with his tall five form ; his honest
sonsie face, and clear laughing blue eyes,
was quite ariother thing ; and 1 mentally rex
solved to make Miss Jessie happy that even-
ing, by offering her my heart and hand. So
1 went over the broad green commons and
greatreedy marshes with my hands in wy
pockets, whistling: #See thé conquering
hero comes !’ It was a ‘wee before the sun
gaed doan,’ and swinging a bright tin pail
over ner arm, I saw the light little form in a
pink calico dress, tripping away in the dis«
tance to milk the cows, It appeared to be
a whim of Miss Jessie's to milk the cows,
and pick berries, and manufacture pies, and
cake, and ice ereams, and make herself gens
erally useful, and I had often been her aider
and abettor 1 these pursuits, and so was no
ways surprised now. [only hastened my
pace, and came up with her just as she say
down on a knoll beside old Brindle, who was
partaking of a slight repast of marsh grass
with stoical phlegm, and paying no atten
tion whatever to the vivacious little nothings
Miss Jessie was pouring forth.. She looked
up at me with one of her arch glances, and
saucy smiles, which made her so charming
as [ threw myselt down in the waving heath
er beside her.
« Night brings home all stragglers. —
What have you been doing with yourself all
day long 77
¢ Roaming through the village ; talking to
Doctor Warren ; and thinking of you.’
¢ Bien oblige. Be quict, Brindle T don,t
want your tail whisking in my eyes all the
time. .
The strong sea breezes had deepened
the roses in her cheecks, and sent a more
vivid light m her protty brown eyes. Lying
there in the grass beside, I had time to think
how very pretty she was, and what a dear
little wife she would make for any man even
though she owned not =a farthing. My
thoughts formed themselves into words ; but
a little slowly, a little talteringly, I am
afiaid ; for it is a much easier thing to fall
in love, than to te!l the beloved ore in ques-
tion all about it, Igotit out some way,
though, and she took it provokingly enough:
ghe had not looked at me, she had not stop-
ped in her milking ; her face looked serious,
but she was as perfectly composed as it |
had been beseeching her to hHtni my hand
kerchief, Womeu are curious things ; and
though they call them the weaker sex, in al]
these cases they have ten times more cou-
rage than the hapless woer.
“ Will you not answer me Jessie ?
Jessie " 1 wound up imploringly.
«Of course [ will answer you Doct’r West:
There Brindle you can go,”
‘She stood hef pail of milk on one sides
teok another pesition on the kooll, pushed
back the sunbonnet she wore, and looked me
for the first time in the face.
«I will answer you Doctor Woast; bub
first you are laboring under a little mistake’
which I must elear up.’
+ She paused and I must confess to a little
foreboding tremor of the nerves, What was
the mistake, and what did she mean
that solemu look ?
“You are not aware perhaps that I have a
cousin, a namesake, Jessie Masters, whom I
resemble very much ; indeed, much more
than I ever suspected. since it has led to
to this misiake. She is fairer, and paler,
and taller than I ; and bad you seen her of-
tener yoli would probably not have fallen in
this error so easily. But since you did no;
know it before, know it now Doctor West,
that I am not the Jessie Masters you waltz.
ed with at Mrs Olcander’s ball
*f did not speak —I could mot. 1 oily
stared aghast in dumb dismay. Still she
kept her great solemn eyes fixed on my face
reading—as I felt—my inmost heart, and a
dark dishonored page she must have found
I should have told you this, at first, I sup-
pose; but I must confess a spirit of mis-
chief kept me silent. I am no heiress, Doc-
tor West. My uncle keeps the hotel there,
and | am merely his adopted daughter, and
sweep floors and makt beds, and milk cows
not, through whim bat necessity. I see you
have made a mistake, and are repenting of
it ; don’t fear but that my heart is perfectly
sound, as you are concerned. Good evening
Doctor West ; don't trouble yourself about
the pail : I can carry it myself quite easily
thank you!’
* The light little figure rose up with a sort
of still scorn that made it regal, and trip-
ped swiftlv and fgracefally over the marsh.
Tn her scornful eyes T had seen myself one
moment as-she saw me, and [ lay down
with my face in the grasg, and prayed in the
bitterness of my heart. that I might die.’
Doctor West pausetl, threw away his ci
gar, and looked at me with something be.
tween a smile and a sigh.
¢ And that is why you never married ?' 1
¢ That is why. A man dosen't care to
make two such mistakes in his lifetime ; and
when I had fairly lost her, I found out for
the first time how much I had loved her.—
Two months after she married a be®ter man
—nobody else than Doctor Warren, I saw
her a fortnight ago ; she and 1 are the best
of friends now ; and she for one is as happy
a8 the day is long, but gomehow —
The old love came over me when fede Her in
the hall-
And I only wished I was young again; for a mo-
nt that was all!”
All!” said the doctor looking dreamily dl
the rising moon ; * “for knowing how happy
they have been together, T would scarcely re,
call the past if 1 could ; but come you wil}
be catching cold in this bleak evening wind,
then 7 will have to be poulticing you up for
sore throat and so oft.”
And laughing [ arose. and the doctor end
I walked away in the starlight together.
a A LT
A Ybung Man's Gratitude,
About ten years ago a merchant of this
city had in his employ a young man who
robbed him of several thousand dollars, [t
being impossible to recover the money, he
was allowed to go unpunished, upon his
promise to fiturn the amount stolen if ever
he was able to do so. Ile was not heard of
until the other day, when a stranger enter-
ed the counting house of his former empoly-
‘Do you remember me,’ he said.
‘Did you not have once in your servico a
young man by the name of Thomas ?’
‘What became of him ¥ ]
‘IIe left me about ten years ago, and
have not heard form him since.’
‘Why did he leave you!
‘No matter. 1t is a long time ago.’
‘Was he an honest youth 2’
‘I think he was, naturally ; but he got into
bad con pany, who misled him.’
*You had confidence in him ?*
‘The most implicit, and canaot somehow,
help having confidence in him still, and bg"
lieve he will some day return and pay the
money he owes me.’
‘Here it is, principal and interest, cvery
cent of it current dioney ; and I have come
to pay iv and implore your forgiveness for
an early crime.’
‘Who are you ?’ sail the merchant,
many years ago, and who has been forrunate
enough in his trafic abroad to honestly ob-
tain the means of returning to you the sum
he had fraudulently abstrcted.
The fact derives additional interest from
the circumstance, that had it not been for the
receipt of this money, the mierchant, who
was on the eve of bankruptcy, must have
faileid the course of a few weeks
enter enrages reer sens
A Snort Answer. —One of the enrolling
warshdls, the otller day received a strong
hint from a down town female. Stopping a,
thelady’s house he found her before her door
endeavoring to effect with a vegetable huck-
ster & twenty per cent abatement in the price
of a peck of tomatoes.
“Have yotf any wien here, ma’am 2"
The 1eply was gruff and curt-—¢*No."
“Have you no husband madam ?”
Perhaps you have a son, ma’ar?”
«Well, what of it 7”
“I should like to know whére he is.
“Well, he isn’t here."
So I see ma'am. Pray where is he
by | *The marshal hastened round the corner.—
“In the Union army, where you ought to
be.” #
didn’t further interrogate the lady.
“Thortias,” he replied, why robtied you so |
Some Good Things.
We find the fcllowing good things in a late
vumber of the Country Gentleman.
Jt is a good thilg when one has 8 hobby
not to ride it too hard for it may wear
out before others are ready to take a pas:
It is a good thing fof those who sre in-
clined to try experimerts, or adopt some flow
theory to move cautiously, for the world is
full of humbugs,
It is a good thing for a man to oversee all
his work, especially attend to the details.
for Pat is very apt to slip over many thing~
that skould be donc.
Itisa god thing to be neat end tidy
about one's premises for it is pleasing to the
eye and is desirable every way.
It is a good thing to see the fodder is no’
scattered about under foot, for the tattle di
not relish their food after it haskee trodden
upon by dirty feet ; much 1s often wasted in
this way.
[tis a good thing to let the catile Have ic
cess to water twice a day, for if watcred
but once a day they ure upt to drink to:
rauch and thereby become chilled and uid
It is a good thing to card cattle every day.
for it prottotes health and gives them a ple:
asing appearance, and is a lixury which they
enjny much,
Iisa good thing to keep nll animal:
thriving, orat least notto suffer them to fal]
away in flesh during cold weather, for a}
they lose mn. fle h is dead lose to the
ftisa god tfung to furfish the fing peri
with plenty of strow and litter, for gruntef
will manufacture it into the best of manure
bestdes a warm nest will make him comfor
table therefore sause him to thrive.
Itis a good thing to keep manure in
snug piles, for it wilt bleach lesg by thé mel-
ting snow and rain,
“It is a good thing to irdresde the Manure
heap in every possible way, for it will give
a large? dividend than railroad cr bank
It isa good thing to draw out manurg
the lattor part of winter or early in the
Spring, before the frost is out of the groand
for it is easier "done than later, and it inju.
res land to go on it with 8 tesm wher
soft En
It is a goo thing to keep farming tools in
or er; it often saves great vexation and loss
of time when wanted for use.
Itis a good thing to have a year's stcck
ofwood at the dvor sawed, splic and seas nde;
or itis trying to the flesh to be obliged to
burn green wood. : !
It would 8 & good thing for those who
and entting it as wanted, to let there wive
were the britches, for quite i kely they
would be most capable of midnagiug #f
It is a good thing to ¢-be shbject to th
powers that be.” to Idve ¥our country, and
to live peaceably with all men—the reason
is obvious,
—— BS Br res.
Wito ane Exespr #itos Drive, —The ful -
lowing is supposed to be the list which the
Wiir Department intends to maké out em-
bracing all ‘he persons that are not subject
to draft. If any class of citizens are omitted
in this list that ought not to be drafted, they
are requested to give notice without delay. —
Those not subject to draft are—
All infants at the breast.
All females between the ages of 18 dad
All fenidles ufider eighteen.
Ali females over 45.
Al negroes, mulattos, and wminigters of
the Gospel. :
Quadroons and Quakers.
Octoreons and Idiots
All colored females.
Lunatic dfid Cdstomn House Offtoetd
Exempt Fireman.
Men with wooden legs:
Blind men.
Seamen and habitual drunkards.
Telegraphic Cperators and Mariers.
Teachers in the public schools.
Old Maids.
Bachelors over 45,
Married men over 45 whoge wives won't
let them go. Lag
Newshoys under 18.
Boatblacks do.
Organ Grinders who have not been nat
uralizcd, inclaning their monkeys,
British subject and Shakers:
Young Ladies at Boarding School:
Wet nurses. ;
Veterans of the War of 1812;
The Oldest inhabitant.
0=In Ohio thirty one Counties give d
Democratic majority of seventeen thousand
eight hundred. The democratie gain is over
twenty eight thousand,
In Indianna, the demacratic majority fof
the State Ticket is about eight thousand.—
The Detocrats elect five Congressman, thé
Republicans three doubtful.
{7The Confederate Congress and the
papers of the South arc using the Proclamas
tron as a magic wand with which to strike
new enthusiasm into the hearts of their
people, Greeley’s 900,000 meanwhile are
préciice burning green wood, drawing
T-Bolow par—Abolitionism smce thé °
rT —,