Erie observer. (Erie, Pa.) 1830-1853, April 08, 1848, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    1.• - , .
Ilt . I
, I i . • i i I
, 1
1 .
-- , -- -
, I
, .. .
•• 1 - _ , 1
- 1 -
- 1
. . 1 , 1 1 • . •
• ! '
- , 1 • :1
•i t
. . /-
• 1 ~.' , . .
i . .
. ,
, 1
' . e . •j. '
'r i ll
„ .
.• ' -
• J. :. ' :
... '
. -
4i' . • . -' - ,
, 1
Elio County, Pa. '
l'npriefors and pub:Wirt-a
orrostrE TILE EAGLE Ilona.
~darrthers (left by-the earner) $2 00
or at the oak, , iu ath, tint e, 2 50
rir not pnid in nth ante, er within three mouths
I!, nine of bultsetilting, tr.o donut, n Al be charged.
irlatu.n Awn , their Prams.
.No paper d4ettittlintett until all artearageFt arc paid
at the option or the publishers.
All eornmunieations nAut4 be post paid to secure
, q u,,,,, one year, $6 an Three squarer, 1 year, $lO
do six months, 500 do do 8 mos. , 9
do three do 300 do du 6 do 6
~,,,, Rd; ertisemetits 0 cr :it , per square for the first
',awn and :15 cents forea,l, subsequent insertion.
? Yearly atherti.wrot hat e tilt. privilt - dgeoftitotting
"wore, but nt no time are allowed to occupy more
,three squares, ai,d to be (untied to their immediate
!tritiremrnts not baring other dirretionr, will be (n
-it nliforbid, and chargiil or 4
?tiaras, not exceeding 6 ilues, inserted nt pot
v . ow..
Elorelooill. Ohio.
pace on Superior st., in Atwater's Block.
RE En To
-0,4/attic° 11:1i Er, Catethr l4o LAW FCIIOO,II
rLETCIIF.R, 10 State st.,
114 Sou Lc .41, yr.r.n,Ne, 14 a wmuut rt., 1 hi!.
um) 11. litsziAi,r., Esq., 53 Wn/I st., N,4 York
for Tesrinom tl S, refer to this Oilice.
!writ! Form ardiniz, Prutitit e Anil Ca niniissier
li•rillanis. Denier.; in Snit, eunise and line
also, C oa l, Flatter, Siiin, , jlLF, &e . rtiblit
loco, west side of die public• Li idg. , Ed ie, l'a.
inc J.K1.1,n, . IV. \V. Loomis.
uk:ale and 1:, tail I)caler in cheap wet and
fdrnet.ries, Nn.1.5 Bonnet! Block,
tare ?I. 1 rio
. Blind and Doer Mann:actilrer and Dealer in
‘s4.4t ride between i,h and
T. \V. 1110011 E.
aler in Orricerie, Pro% Wines, Liquor's,
earlier!, Fruit. e. v Meek, Suite
creel, Erie, Ea 4
l‘lAlUS11.1 1 1,1;;;:, LOCKIV001),
orneye Ut Unit c up slutt:. in the Tam
11,111huildinLytut.hul-tht. othonotaWs
der_ in Dry h0r,,19, Grovvri,.q, ITardwarre,
Ivens Ware,!l..iine, huh, :c.c. No. 121,,ide, Erin, Pa. •
, 1110- h Survc) 6, u;lice in Exchnnu.c
ag Co.
A 1.0, N. Y.
I) Dealers in!!1) and Erie Coal, F•sitit
1 and •Produce rscneiallv. Particular atten
paid- to the sale of Produce and purchase of
N 0.3 & 4 Coburn Square, South Wharf.
. N. iIuz.BERT,
13ENJA.)1 LN
nooty and Ctinitheflor at Law ; No.
.de flotur, Vrie.
GIiAnA.M C TllOlll PSON,
”nrneys fi Cminsellois iit I
Oflicu on F renc h
Ene.i.ocor S. J ackson Co's. Swill,
April 21, 1917. l 19
1. 12.08ENZIVEiG iv.. Co.
'alas in Fortir.i) and I)i Good,.
Iliadv_ \lade Clothinrr, Bum , a nd Shies,
t‘e. l No. I, Hemming Bloch, State Slice:,
Erie, Pa,
tiornry• and (2ortn-.llorn at Law !trice on
ndl ,tact, N‘v..!, side uf the Public :,-..rillare„
Erie, Pa.
(;. LOW!' R, CO,
alen , in Wvelies, Jewelry, Silver, German Sil
wr, P 1 i ed and 111 ictannia Ware, Cutlery, NI
aad Faiwy Goode, N 0.7 Reed [louse, Erie
Pa. - 2
C. 11. WRIGHT.
Vl:olesale and llciail i)ealcr in Dry Gorde.Grrn
teries, Haiti wa re, C. oci; ey, 1 ssu Iron,
Len' her, oil., etc. etc. cornet of state
%.i(et and the Public Squa, opposite the E,igie
'Unern, Erne, Pa.
'Mut Maher, Upholster and Undei;aker,
state Surto., Erie Pa a
Plipician and Surgeon, office on Seventh Street,
vim of the Methodist Church, Erie, Pa.
IVALK ER & 00 K,
Gencrd Forwarding, Commission, and Produce
Wrdwints; Red Ware }louse, cast of the Pub
lic Br ithro, Eric.
Winufacturers of Tin, Copper and Shect-fro
ware corner of French and Fifth alrcata, Erie.
ron Founders, wholesale and retail dealers in
Stoves tiollow-ware tee. State street, Erie, Pa
Wholesaleand retai Weak:pin Drugs,Medielnes
Dye •Otuffe, Groceries, 6:c. N 0.5, Reed House
F.rie. Pa.
1113.11.11.8 & DEWEY,
Pealcre in Dry Goods, Groceries, s.c. No. 111,
Cheap.ide, Erie Pa.
Pea Jere in Dm2s, /Medicines, Paints, Oils, Dye,
'tuff!, &.c* , No. Reed notice, Elie,
Forwardi nz and Commission Merchants; 109
French Street, Eric, and at 6th Street Canalßa
ton, also dealers in Groceries and Provisions.
Dealer in Hardware, Dry Goods, Groceries, &c.
• east side of the Diamond, and ono door cast of
rho Eagle Hotel, Eric, Pa.
Ey fliram L. Braun, corner of State street and
the Public vquare, Erie, Pa. Eastern, Western,
and Southern Stage urn _a.
- --- - - - ---
Fulhionable Merchant Tailors, on ate Public
' Square,t a few doors %vest of State street, Erie,
Dealer in Theological, NI iscellancous, Sunday
and Classical S .- hcol ,Book; Stationary, etc. etc.
•. nchStrek Erie, Pa. 1
P. A . R. BRAPE,
Atioracy and Coti eellor atlaw, Prairie du Chien,
Ws T. piactice in ihe counties of Crawford,
etrallyanii lowa, W. T. and In Clayton county,
IncaTerritorY. .--
S CiLIFFEES' series or Sonool BOoke,
4 and 5. for sale at No. 111, French St.
Erie, Muy'6, 1817. . 51
TUE beat assortmentllani Boxes in the
, coon' y for --ale by H. COOK.
_I 44 . I.
The Spring comes forth in loveline! , s,
The earth in gay attire is clad.
The fields put on their mhos' dress,
Awl ctery thing looks bright and glad.
tint What are all limbo things to me,
Siam! they to pleasure can impart?
No beauties in them can I .e 0
To soothe or cheer this lonely timid.
The liekls in t nib their beauties rese t
I heed theni not—thou art not here.
The Suoiknev comes tochocr the eight,
The birds are slnging in the grove,
The sun ii shaking clear nod bright,
And nature acorns latticed to love,
Hut on mine ear unheeded fells
The merry song and piniuttve
Fur gay or sad, each note reenlls
Thu bitter thought—thou art uway..
Their joyous songs fall ou mino enr,
And makes ma sigh—thou urt not hero,
Tho Autumn comes, and brings along
Of goldea fruits a plenteous store,
Glad toices su eel!) , blend SU song,
And hearts with mirth seem attaining tree.
The' yonng and old aro blest and glad.
The clowded halls iu splendor sh
And yet it makes MO lone and sad
To think upon my fate and thine
I weep to think that thou my dear, 1
My life my all—thou art not here,
My mind and my heart are full,,yet I fear
to take up the pen. I would fain write a short
story of some things tt !licit happened to tny
self—a simple, yet strange Tale, whercfrom
men may draw a moral if they choose. ' But
it is true; and it hinges on' facts which are
the staple of our daily, hnowledge, though we
lack the faith that as ould show us how they
arelinked together, and made to act upon
each other by an unseen yet ever-working
power; and therefore, I doubt if it will be be
lieved. Within this hour in a ptfrt of Lon!
don, whither my duties seldom, call me—in
durlieus of Covent Gartail have seen one,
skulking under the shadow .of night, who has
brought bacleto my thoughts wid, happened
many lung years ago—scees in which I was
forced against my will to a t, and yet in tyllich
I felt , alif the sorrow had been my . own. And
here le? mealso say, that my story Niut one
of stroriu . passions or glaring crimes. lam
no skilled writer of cunningly schemed fic
tions, nor,—did I even know how,—should I
care to harrow tender hearts with plots of
,wicked men or scenes of poignant grief. My
tale will only be a plain string of facts; it
will have but one claim upon the reader's
heart, which is, that it h true, •
About twenty years ago, in the little woody
village of -, in, Middlesex, there was a
boy's school. It was not a seminary for
young gentlemen; it was not a childish-trap
"a mockery, a delusion, and a snare," for
anxious mothers, or a commission agency for
parents and guardians, or a huskster's-shop
for butchers ittid bakers to exchange meat and
bread for Latin and stripes; nor was it a house
of torture fur gentle heartland emulous spir
its, where a cold, low despotism chills and
stifles the warm impulses of the childish na,
tore; or a vile r grinding tyranny stirs and
stimulates the nascent passions in forms of
monstrous precocity. It was not a place
where the eternal welfare of living souls
could be jobbed away against petty profits on
bad beef and stick-jaw pudding; nor where
one minted, coarse, unshapen moral uniform
was forced by contract on all minds alike,
whether by nature ,they were great or little,
strong or weak. It miscalled Boy's School,
but it was something, more; it was u family,
%%here the time was spentin living and learn
ing, where authority and coercion were un
known, because love and duty preoccupied
;heir places. A
The =stet', to be sure, seemed somewhat
young to be the patriarch of such a little lov
ing tribe. He %%las an M. A., and the clergy
man of the village. His attainments were
such as would have'entitled him to aim at
distinction' in the church, but, though active
minded, he loved peace and retirement, and
he had a passion for training and developing
the minds of children, towards whom he felt
a really Christian love. His boys were his
friends. He possessed the rare faculty of be
ing able to descend to the level of their intel
ligence; and they opened their little hearts
and minds to !him as if he had been ,their
brother, or they play-fellows, as indeed, out
of achool hours, he often was. Yet he had
brought with him into the scene of his tran
quil existence much insight into mankind—
a store of that pure and better wisdom, which
is founded on a knowledge of the existence of
evil, tempered by an ever-watchful hope of
One boy—he was the eldest of the school
—was to Mr. Faber almost a" companion'.—
On his promising nature be had bestowed
much care, stimulating his habit of reverence,
strengthening his honesty.of spirit and pas
sion for truth; and, while encouraging a nat
urally active benevolence and disposition to
self-sacrifice for the sake of serving others,
at the same time striving to developo and en
courage discrimination and prudence. The.
youth's mind had thus attained a - healthy and
early maturity.
The master who was in easy circumstances,
kept a sort of little pony barouche—a neat af
fair, in whiCh he and his wife could now and
then pay a visit at a distance. Sometimes,
when a commission was to be executed in a
town not far- distant, he ~vould trust the boy
I speak of to drive over for the purpose, with
perhaps aquiet junior.. the unpretending carriage end its
youthful charioteer were on the way back to
when at the end of a plantation; a
gentleman hailed the latter from a cottage
door. He was •tall, remarkably handsome,
and had ireoft mode of "address which instant
ly charmed the hoy. He had a young lady
on his arm.
Cll A PTER 1
"My little man, I wish you would do me
"Certainly, sir, with pleasure."
"Then, will you let this young lady ride a ,
far as.—, and set her' down at the Merto
Arms, to wait fur me? She is not well enougi
to %%ialk . so far, and there is no hope of an
other conveyance. lam obliged to wait her:
for an hour or so. lam sure'l can trust he
!with you, My little gentleman, and I see yo
are a steady,driver.'r
The young lady did not speak, but, as sh:
stepped into the carriage, she bowed 'dad!.
to the boy; and slowly to' the gentleman, im
in a minute.they were on'the road. The youtl
made some friendly remark to his fair charge I
but she only bowed, though still kindly. Sh. l
spoke not a word, and her companion, who alI
ready had that instinctive respect for her se
which is the true key' to human happinesJ
foibore to intrude on her reserve. In les.,
than an hour the chaise stop l ped at the inn 1)1
jumped down, handed out his fair char"
whoM he confided to the smiling landlad
and followed them into the inn parlor. Alon i ,
for a moment with' the young lady, ho sao
that she was* in tears. Ile felt simpath I
but he dared not speak: She thanked hi
courteously, as a young woman would thattl
a growing lad; and, on giving him her lulu
she said, abruptly— - - .
"Will yOul let me know the name
e young gentleman who has bared ma th
Boy-like he gave his name and address;,a
he immediately proceeded back to Minot, tel
ing his master of the adventure. Mr. Fabe l
who never missed an opportunity of cultivi l l
ting a new idea, listened attentively, and
seriously, half jocularly, complimented hi
on the "conquest" he had made, at the san
time praising his delicacy and good manalp
ment. And the aflhir was soon forgotten.
It might have been a month or six weel
afterwards. Ono evening, in the twilight a
ter tee, as the master was seated with h
wife and one or two of the principal boys,
was announced that the landlady-of the Me
tdn Arms wished to speak to Master
I "Abu!" cried Mr. Faber, archly. Mast
!felt conscious that his face was re
yet he did not know Why. The landlady w
called 'in at Ilk request, when she present
him with a note, superscribed in a delicate
male hand.
“Aii!” cried Mr. Faber, again, but lath
gravely. •
The boy handed the note to his • mast
who opened arid read it with evident intere t.
"It is from the young lady you set dot n
at the Merton Arms. She begs tht she m:y
see you."
“Ali, poor young lady!” interposed tie
landlady; "she has been with us ever sin e.
I'm sure she's a good young lady."
Mr. Faber reflected for a few moments;
then his face - resumed its usual cheerful x
pression, and he said, laughing,—
"Well, Harry, I shall have instructed on
to little purpose if I cannot-trust you with I ,is
little adventure. I suppose she is at lens a
princess in disguise! Go back with Mrs.
Critchett. I suppose the end of it will be
that you will bring your fair inamorata to he
Parson - age House."
The youth did as he was desired.
Perhaps the reader thinks that this was v r
imprudent in the clergyman. In an ordinar
case it would have, been so, but Mr. F be
knew the lad's disposition well; and, m re
over, it was-his - system to enforce, wher ve
it was possible, his precepts byl example, t u
preparing inexperienced minds for the null
ties of life.
lii less than hour a ring was 15.1m1 at th
Is Harry come back from the princ,
cried Mr. Faber, laughing.
Harry it certianly was. but he l lmd o
arm a young and singularly beautiful gi
Mi. Faber turned pale, and looked very g
He had not expected that his jocular re
would be taken literally by his pupil
Faber turned very red, and looked rathe
grily at the new-comer.
The yonth, in whom the adventure 110
spired the natural courage of our sex ‘I
. Ibefriending the other, said,—
"Sir, you have always told me never
part from my 'word, even if spoken in jea
"You are right—you are right, my b.
”I am very anxious that this young
slytold speak in private with you and
Fiber. S. he will then return to the
where Mrs. Critchett is expecting her:
The masteratsCnted, and the tht‘ee
left alone. At the end of this time, a
sage Was sent to the inn that the yot6g
would sleep at the Parsonage. Mr.
said nothing to his pupil, beyond praisin !
for the kindness and decision he had s
ifor was it till two orothree years after,
he had grown older, and was leavin,
school for college, that he told him wha t
passed at the interview. In about a
from her arrival, the yoUng lady agai
and her young champion heard no more .
her. But the adventure lett a strong i
sion on his memory.
atArTEn 111.
I was not always so steady-as I a
At first the temptations of a London li
too much for a young man thrown filo
in their way; on the other'hand, if tl
-not lead to actual vice, they are Earwig
cessary school. At the, time I refer t.
haps lwelve or fourteen years ago 7: —l
law student. One night, I was, at
hour, in one of than taverns freque
young men who lead what;they call a
life, though anything more dull, stupid,;
fees, and ",slow," cannot liscOnceive
thoughthe tavern I speak' of 'was, at
Hove atilt is, oneg - the best and most
lar of its kind, the roam was-but a Mil
goon ? bOxed Often:either side into
places of confinement, where .to sit
URDAY, APRIL 8, 1848.
at ease was a feat for little men alone; and
the atmosphere, heated tp'n poisonous degree
with gas, rerked with the c'ontlicting, odorslof
innumerable and indescribable -suppers.--
Here were to be.nightlr meta motley com
pany, composed of sucking professionals t like
myself, intermingled with mien- steady; toping
citizens to whoni their conversation was a
relaxation after their daily toil, and occasion
ally varied by - the presence of a flashy, slan
gy-looking race of beings peculiar to some
London taverns,—wretched imitations of the
cast-off habits of a . few notorious aristocratic
roues. Here men nightly sacrificed their
rest, forcing untimely food on cloyed appe
tites, and drinking fiery stimulants without
relish, save in the mad excitement they pra
I sat in a box apart. This night there
were not many persons present. I was quiet
-1 ly eating my chop, thinking:how foolishly I
had spent my evening. Insensibly my at
tention was attracted towards the !pposite
1, box, where a tall, florid, ihandsome man was
entertaining' a small knot - of listeners with
what seemed to be a good Story, so frequent
was the laughter. Without actually listen
ing, yet I could not help hearing.
i'Ah, but the way I got the girl was better
I. than all! I made regular love to her---honor
able proposals, you know, and all that sort of
f thing; and the old mother was as proud as ,
s possible' that her daughter had a 'gentleman',
for a sweetheart. But she always wanted to
put off the marriage: her daughter was tor;
1- young, she said.. The onedid not think
so: As she was very romantic (and by 64'
way, she had a nice romantic little name,
f 1 too,) I persuaded her to elope, bought the li
e ' cense, and did ever„ 'quite proper,' you
e know."
I am really ashamed to pen the rest of his
infamous story; yet if these 'things are not
known where is the value of the warning?
This man went on, in the coolest way, to re
late, that his•victim had eloped with him; that
he had, in vain, manoeuvred; till, at lust, lie
was obliged to, try what he called a "capital
dodge," which he had once before used with
success. Were not the truth of the tale es
tablished beyond a doubt, it would be difficult
to believe that any human being could be such
a fiend. The poor girl had, - it - last, begun to
doubt; but, in the morning, he came to, her
with the license open fin his hand, and said he
was prepared to take her to church. Then ho
told, with passionate protestations, his "his-.
tory:" that he had in early youth, been invei
gled into marriage; that his witched left him
many years before, on finding.herself deceived
as to his property; tha t he', J kitew pot where
' die was; whether alive or deA; and that, if he
married again,, he .incurred the risk of the
4te of a felon; but that finally, so great was
Ins devotion, be was prepared to peril all, and
fulfil his promise. And then he conjured her
to go to church. The end may be guesSed.
By her virtue he conquered her' virtue. By
her'very magnanimity and spirit of loving
self-sacrifice ho effected her ruin. He gore
her a written promise of marriage "on the
death of his wife."
. of course he had' no
wife. Let no one too serely judge the un
happy girl. To be; utterly ignorant of vice
is almost as dangerpus as to be vicious.
' Not a Word of this was lost on toe. I was
n o t sorry to see that even the half-intoxicated
listeners had an instinct that it was a "little
too bad." One of them asked--
"And what became of the young lady "
The man, who was too much inflamed! by
Wine to see the change in their manner, Went
"Why, the way I got rid of her was better
s r till, One day I took her a walk. She got
fired and' we rested a moment in a cottage.—
/l first ratelidea struck - me. I had promised
her that we should ditie - at the'pretty village
Of I saw an empty carriage going in
that direetion. I asked the youngster who
drove it to let her ride to the inn. The green
horn was quite proud of his office. I need
hot say that I was off for London directly. I
i llitil
new she'd be too proud to come back when
' 1
she found it out." , -
"No, nor never shall. But I believe she
was obliged to hook the youngster. who Was,
9 1 'ust getting out of his hobble-de-boyhood. I
dare say she was his 'first love.'" •
Unconsciously seeing that I looked inter
ested, he had addressed " his latter sentences
across to me. I stepped over ands said—
I rs.
"But you have not told us the name, the ro
mantic little name, of the girlie"
"Oh, she was called Rose!--pretty name,
isn't itV"
• "And her other name?" .
"Ainmenford." •
"Monster! fiend! scoundrel!" I.cried, to the
utter astonishment of the spectators. "Knovi
that your victim was saved! . 1 can • tall you
r ;
the sequel of the story. Providnce has pro d
tected her. She was restored ; to a fi fe nf'
virtue. I—l am the boy whom you would
have duped, and whom you now seek o del
fame—Reitile!" •
In an instant a rummer was flung at in
head. I; rushed at the ruffian. Alas! I wds
no match for his science; I had only -courage
and passion on my side. I was in a fair way
of suffering for my interfdrence, when a nenr
corner changed the face of ; affairs. '
When the wretch pronounced the name l of
the girl, • had fancied I heard something like
a groin at the 'other end of the room, but; I
was too much excited to take much 'notice Id
I be
e dun
• parat.
nd ea
"And you never heard of her again?"
I Was now quite certain. I could-bear it no
it. To my surprise, a fine, strong-looking
fellow stepped between us, saying to, go?
tagonist- '
- „
"Mr. ---, I have heard your disgusting
story. .Yon know me. and what•it is to me
to hearjt. This limy businese t " turning to
me; and then be•covered•tbe other with most
opprobious epithets. — •
"You impudent rascal., bow sieseyou BPOIS
„ t manner!” roared the other; yet
nder the attack, but hi j pride
fight. This time he ha, his
zaw a, man receive such a unish
;lee doorsniah night aga i n s t
iri .aver e ri
n - ha e v ra i , 1 1
wi t hout the interference (if . .. the
was only too glad to slink off
Idh h e e r w : a l a ke dd a
away, fur
a to p I P
et r u e n „ e t r e o c v t e e r d
• ep feeling, and I knew not vim or
re. I
e coincidence seemed stgular,
.tantaneous retribution, adm nister
vho was evidently interestifi, was
lout of the cOmmon course ofihings.
here more strange coincideiCes to
tame in th'
he quailed
made him
I never :
ment. 'T
closed for
fair went
to his olio
come by d:
what he w
To r e
and the in:
ed by one
But there
essional duties and the turmoil of a
ctive life soon obliterated from my
letnory of the affair meutioned in the
:r; indeed,' except irk connection
r i tecedents and conseotiences, it was
aracter much to arrest the -atten
ed scarcely say, too, that I soon
ose habits of dissipation in which
, g men indulge,. for at least a short
. they are first thrown upon the
ppliedenyself steadily t 7 my pro
d do nut suppose that, except when
consultations, I ever was out ofl
er than eleven o'clock. A tavern'l
tered; a theatre, only !when some-
t or remarkable %ratite be perform-
1 eed not remind the reader how lit
n ity has of late been given for any
l e of thnt sort. ` In short I was one
st regular and plodding men in a
where steadiness and application
t ore certainly to succesls than in any
My pro
mind all
last eliapt
with its a
not of a c
tion. I n
gave up ti
must von
time, whe
fession, at
engaged , i
my bed la l
I never e
thing are!
ed; qnd I
tle onport I
of the mo
As am
I wo
cessary consequence of these hab
red to get married. When a man
iienced the advantage of &noticing
r virtue, he begins to long fur that
he greatest of all. Hone is eeri
t on the delightful venture, fortune is
kind enough to throw a lottery tick
vay; for I never listen to those men
'Oh, I would marry directly, but I
a wife!"
ously ben
et in the
who say
can't get
Aly tic
•et turned out a prize. Ido honest.
merely ) feel that I was_ utterly un
the preference shown in, my favor,
hole subsequent life has been devo
ving to render myself worthy of her.
trvisit to Mr. Faber, when I was first
d to the family with Which I now
honor to be allied. kis enough for
ecs of my tale to say, that there were
Irs, Mary (mine) and Eliza. I think
the strongest mind, but, perhaps, it
vanity that suggested the idea. Eliza
'emely beautiful, but a little head-
After some difficulty, I`-became,-the
E:tritor pf Mary, and in'f conrsk a
visitor at the house.
ly and si
worthy o,
and my ‘1
ted to str
I was on
hale the
the purp.
• I
two slat..
Mary ha'
was my
was ext
I now
speak of what happened about :six
years a!
1 bee/
of wliic
ered tha
me conscious, after a short time had
(that there was something going on
1 was not aware. At last I discov
there was some secret between the
I frequently asked Mary, but was as
t off 'with an 'arch laugh, Once I
iza, but she blushed so scarlet, and
o frighrened, that I forebore to repeat
Akin. At length the secret came to
Eliz had a lover. Mary told i e the
fact one t fact one evening in the t4ight,
positively intoxicating state o f ten
! Well, as soon:as the ice was broken,
kilt] talk of nothing else. She evi-
Idmired the unknown excessively. lie
Faudseme, so courteous arid so well
could sing so well and ride so well;
he had every manly attraction under
1. True,lie was a little older than Eli-
often p
asked l
looked s
my que
light. r
Eliza c
was so
read; h
in shot
the sun
lt , t
za,--it eemed to me more
i than a little; but i
she hi always resolved never to marry a man'
who w a not considerably in advance' of her
in 'Join of years. It seemed to me, that Eli
za was proud of her lover;. more than .that,
she lov d him as a woman ought to love,"'ilten,
she lov 13 / Ile had evidently struck her imi
aginati n, and had obtained an ascendency
e l
over h r mind. I ought to add, that Eliza
was to inherit a very' large fortune,—and not
only tl e same amount of money that Mary
‘4as to have v but in addition, a considerable
sum fr m a grand-aunt, who had formally
made I er heeheir. .
I •nath an important day came. The
I vn was to come down and pay his be
visit. I discoiered that I was the
ause of so much of the anxiety I wit-
At 1
in the sisters; but Eliza had somehow
cunceilved an- opirdontoflmy judgment,and was
very nervous as to the impression her lover
would', produce. Mary,' on the other hand,
who Was all affection, trembled lest I and my
i •
future brother-in-law should not like , each
other.) •
On the eventful day I strolled over from the
Pareohage.•, There were the two sisters, with
their mammam in the corner, smiling
benignant satisfaction. Mary was grave; as
for Eliza, I expected every tudanent - to see her
handkereh fly oil;, her • heart thumped at
such rate .l
At length there was-a loud ring at the mit
er gate, thou the sound of horse's hoofs, then
a dotriestic bustle in the passage, and tlien
' I
the Iver was usheredfin. I
It Vita .."' 9 .
1 1 11
. _
T e monster turned pale as death when he
saw e. With all his assurance and addreas,
he was taken off Ins guard. But he saluted
ine'distantly, in the manner of one who has
been only introduced,' The- sisters exchan
ged lances.
. - "you know M
, es," I said,
hey' met before.
4 6
p or Mary! All her Worst fears were more
the realized.
We talked pn indifferent subjects for some
time. At length a walk in the grounds was
proposed. While we were out, con
trived to take me aside. He had made up for
the part of a repentant 'sinner,=perhaps_ he
calculated on the softness of the .gteenhorn
again! 'He protested, he abjured, he conjur
ed. He was utterly reformed. He had spent
years in striving to find Rose, that he, might
make her the only reparation. Even . now,
could he find her, he would make' the sacri
fice; and sa on'. I listened quietly. His
manner was too abject. • It was not the real
expression of manly, contrition. I saw that
the wretch was acting.
I said, "I shall do my-duty,
which is, to tell this family the simple facts;
they can then act as they, choose. O( this I
aip certain, the man who could do as you have
done towards poor • Rose must have the nature
of a fiend. At all events, the risk is 'toe
great for an, innocent creature like Eliza. Be
sides I have heardof you since. I knoiv that
you'have neglected your profession from hav-
I -- ingl4n independence. I have hen's(' also that'
you have gambled away your fortune. You'
seek Eliza's fortune, not herself.' No, sir,,
shall do my duty_and you can take what steps
•ou like."
He was livid with rage.
- "Thqon wish that I should - give you another
lesson?" said he, maliciously insolent.
"Pooh, pooh, sir! lam wiser now than I
was then. Good day!"
I blame myself much that, froman instinc
tive dislike to come into contact with this
man, I did not at cnce speak, I s let a day
elapse. That day had nearly proved fatal .to
poor Eliza; it would have done' so but for an-'
other "coincidence." Virhen I again sought
Mair'y, she was grave, and Spoke in a manner
she had never yet used. Still, her hati'd
trembled when I pressed it; and a tear stole
down her cheek.
"Mary." I said, "where is yotir`thother? I
have a communication to make her of the ut 7
most importance to your sister's happiness."
"Oh! you need not do so; Mr. has
already confessed till. It was with shame
that he did it; but he said your hypqc 7
risy' (that was 'the word he said, Harry,)
compelled him," and the tears rolled down
her beautiful cheeks.
True it was,the scoundrel had made h the
most of his time, and had told his story in his
own way; but in order to put me forever out
of the witness-box, lie had coined a lie to the
effect that he had intended to fulfil his prom
ise, but that I hnd withdrawn the affections of
the girl; and that I had forever concealed
where she was to be found.
Mary, a solemn assurance that it was
a falsehood was enough, but Eliza looked op
me with very different feelings. Her lover's
influence was too strong even for the truth.
He had, too, taken advantage of the affair to'
precipitate the marriage. A day not very
far distant was fixed.
'.But why," says the reader, gklo you not
bring Mr. Faber on the scene?'' First, the
Parsonage I was now at was not the Parson
age of the early story, bui. one in a different
part of the country. Secondly, Mr., Faber
and his wife had gone to the South of France
with a eonstlitptive ehild,' and it WPs Pet
known When they would return. It might be
in a week, it Might not be for months. They
might be on the way home, I :they, might have
been obliged to stay -longer, and we did not
know whereto address them. Thirdly, I was
as much' at home at' the'Parsrmage as if they
hadbeeri there, having received permission to
make use ofi it, as Paddy says, "for the eon
I was in a most painful position. This
manfiend had so well used his time, end his
influence over Eliza, that she really believed
I was the mean fellow he represented me to
be. At once headstrong . and imaginative . , she
took a sort of romantic interest-in upholding
her lover. IShe was ready to make any sae..
rificesfor him. I was rapidly becoming de
trop in the family. 'lt was only by the affec
tion and truthfulness of Mary that I held on.
The old lady sided with the sti•ongestcharac
ter, but without airing very deeply into the
case.- Old poeple often . mistalie suspicion\and
cunning for wisdom: . and it was more easy
for her to suspect me of the artifice attriboted
to me, than,' by a strong effort, to se the
truth. Meanwhile, I cared little except for
poor Eliza. I knew that tiine:would clear me;
bet, in the meanwhile, the day for the mar
riage.was approaching fast. What was to be
done? Oh, fOr one minute of Mr. Paber!—
That would settle all.
As far as, matters went, falsehood NO t l r6
implied over twit. Mr. Clayford was be
lived, I was not believed. Daily,l trembled
more and more for Eliza..
The marriage was to take plane' iii iwp
days. I had conjured, , protested in vain.--
The more efforts i made, the more haughtily
and even obstinately did Eliza cling to her
lover. I was in agotty. I forsaw her dcsti
ny, yet had not the means to avert it, having,
from the very nature cf the case, no prOofs.
Mary was true to me, but there was a gravl
ty in her demeanor which pained me severe
ly. She, too, was evidently like her sister,
moro influenced by her lover than by her con
victions. My antagonist was extending his
fatal power. I knew not. what to do. -
A belkounded. It was the postman, a rare
visitor at the house, ;whose arrival alWaYs
caused a 'sensation. lle left a letter address
ed to Eliza. I knew nob whence came the
presentment, but It gave me a iort of wide-
Pried hope.' The letter was from the aged re
lative I spoke of, who had adopted my future
sister-In-law, and. it ran Vino
• "MY dearest Child,l should not rest in my
grasie . If I had not been present on the occasion
which is to decide the happiness of youti' life.
It is pot enough that I highly approve Of the
young man you have chosen—l must be there
when you give him your hand. I must giN e
said Eliza,
' i .„ -.
and I
- 'IT'
CII A ' , Tin v.
yO,u my blessing at the alter, and glen I shalt
die in peace. Iltit a severe attack of my old
complaint makes it impoisible for me to set
out to•doy, as had wished. Can you, ,vill,
you, postponp- this marriage fora few days,
th a t I may enjoy 'almost my only remaining
wish in this world? .Ever my child, your 01\1A
affectionate aunt.
"r • P.—You' lnow I have advertised fora
new companion, one whO can read to the my
.favoOto-german authors. I have receivetion9
answer which pleases me much. The young
lady writes from and, as that town is
nearer to yon than to sly place,,l have asked .
her to come over there. 4
This was 4. respite.' I looked at Play-ford.
_L 1
Ho was p ule wlth anger and dkuppointinent .
Here was his Prize removed 0, sbort s distance
from his expec ant grasp. Bad men have nil
trust in the fur re. For my. part, though my
position was not bettered, yet to'have gained
time was sorne4ing. Mr. Faber might come; '
I knew his inflnence was great.
Three or four days passed over.' "Aunty,"
as she was tail ed, arrived, and I made her ac
quaintance. She was really a good-natured s
well-informed, charming old mai , and not at
all likely to di in a hurry. Ortunately,, '
I am pretty w , l read in GQIIIIII . ii(eZattikas
and I flatter thyself I bad a little advantage
over my antagonist in some other respects.--,..
lie htid spent too much time in vicious indul:
geuce to have iced much., In short, "Aunty"
and I "cottoned" to each other admirably, and,
insensibly my position improved. So ainett
fur the presentment.
- Another day had, of course been fixed for
Eliza's marriage . At the earnest prayer Of
Mary, and ev , i 'of Eliza, elm unbent so far,
I consented to re ain silent one subject which
they regarded ;ii already disposed of.. I nes-.
er could withstand a wome n 's tears; and, be,
sides, Clayford had played his part so well,
each time he had comp to see his intended,
that really my own resolution almost shooli,
I doubted whether, without proofs, I ought to
go further. '---, , .
The evenning before the wedding -day, 1 re.,
ceived 4. Burn ed note froth MurY, "'What;
.was she to think of me? Thefyoung. womack
who Was toc(thie to meet her aunt, wlienask,
ed for a refer l ence, he l d actually given iny
name and address. I must come over innati,
diately and e. plain myself" or her heart *mild
break:" * l -
over like' a madman, or likii,tha
Tam O'Shanter. •Mary's l l4ter
What yoi l ing woman could
,eference to me? Was it-a am ,.
I gallopped
Earl King, or
gas a myster
!Ave given a.
trick of Mr
I was ushered into tbeglraWing-.
Ivlvere asseJtabled the whole fami
pi repared fora "ticene." Eliza
Shantly, Mary Was in tears,
101 l this?" I cried. "For klod'a
Mary says some bung wawa'
.eferenee to me. Who is She!
Where is she?'
II arrived.
rpom, where
ltr, evidently
looked triura
"What is i
sake speak!
his given- a 1*
What is she?;
waa in a rage at being thus hastily and
groundlessly suspected. Till now, l'ha not
beep fully sti,bl9 of the extent to wbic,
poison of tny antagonist had woTheil,
"Aunty," Answered—
"The youUg lady, sir s is trot yet come. It
was by, letter she sent the reference to you.
We are expecting her."
toughed the
But njy ifeeli r
many days.
hope f?ti watt
ne4s . And '
me on this o•
as utmai, sal
Strang to SI
fortify their!
cc eirenmstancos,. I should hare
;thing away as an absurdity...l
nge had been wrought upon for
I knew that the best Eliza could
Id be to her high spirit unhappi
eWhat more contributed to ezccitq
vasion was, that Mary had Pot,
ted me, but had set apart in grief.
y, my seriousness contributed
At lenoth
Of coarse, t,
was. It mi
had parted fl
yomfg worn. ,
mature tha
first touche
parlor of th:
me first,lMu
riage, and
I pass 'cml
Much to be
Rose's early
ate. The
which she t
slanderous ij
ilven El izail
'the youbg lady was announceat
l ie reader has anticipated, who she
now nearly fifteen years since I
om poor Rose. She was stilt s#
•u s but beauty hid become more
when her lovely face in tears
my boyish feelings in the Nettle
It Merton Arms. AVhat. struck
•ever, was the dignity nr her car.'
striking sir of high breeding ex- 1
in her simplest gestures,
l or expianationsi, It pained mei
ompelled to revive the memory o il
griefs; but the case was desper,
rtlessness, yet earnestness, with
old her story, cleared the fn . :lm the
sitmations of my antagonist e=
confidence left her.
At lenth Mr. Crayford was announced.
I had laid out my:plan of actron. I knew - that,
with all his successful villany, this fellow had
nat presenc l e of mind. As:he entered the room,
Rose wan sitting with her back to
,the door.
I gave him no time to suspect, I took her by
the hand anfa led her up to him,
"Rose Memerford!" I said.
Had she 'come from the tomb ; he could not
have been more affrighted. Ile turned livid,
hriek, covered his face with hi%
l ianished like a bottle-demon from
he reader says that this return of
e arly.victim at the - opportune mo
i mprobable, I answer, that I do
- II
not write improbabilities, Lut facts. My tale
exhibits ft pioral agency work*tig in the shape
, of "Coincidences." The explanation of the
improbability is this:—Wlien Mr. Faber de
termined t 'protect Rose Ammerford, he in,
terested ii her behalf an elderly lady of his
i acquainta n ce, who was of an eccentric tern,
but whobel eccentricity chiefly took the shape
of benevolenge, She engaged Rose, first As
a sort uft I%dY's maid, but scum become so
attached t lier, from her goodness and natua
ral abilities, that she made her her companion,
develoriedliher • tastes, and improved her- .iw
those acOmplushrnents which she. had beta
taught as i e child. The• lady's ,passioq l was
faitravelng. She seldom Jested anywhere
for more than a few months. Rose always
i accomparilel her; and frequently she hd 4r04
gave one s
hands, and
the house.
Pei l imps
moment is