' VOL. 48.
AMERICAN VOLUNTEER.
PUDM3IIED EVERY THURSDAY MORSIRQ BY
JOHN B. BRATTON
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IMml.
- PU n I WAT iiir’^nm^Tnnji
BY MRS, CORDELIA H. TURNER.
Bury mo in tho valley
Bosido aomo rippling stream,
Where blooms tho mojdest lily
Amidst (ho emerald green ;
And where tho feathered songster
Will build ita dawny heat
Amid tho fragrant rose-tree
That blooms above my breast;
Bury mo in the valley,
Whore early cornea tho spring.
And whoro tho toworipg holly.
Will lasting boauty fliug;
And Iqt the distant sunset
Its gold and crimson shed
Upon tho murmuring water
That glides beside my bed. ,■
Bury mb in tho valley,
•Where tender’breezes blow,
And let them murmur gently
■ My requiem soft and low;
And lot tho glistening dowdrop
Bo pearls upon my breast.
With quaintly carved though humble slab
To mark my pioco of rest
TUG BELLS.
FROM THE GERMAN CP VOGEL.
Two distant bells are sounding .
Adown the quiet vale,
Their tones nro soft resounding,
la evening’s sunlight.pule.
The one tolls from tho castle,
’ High on the.mountain’s brow;
The other from the cloister,
, Close to tho lake below.
How in the castle trembling,
A maiden palu and fair
Bellows a stately bridegroom,
Hor marriwgo vows to swear.
Antl.in tbo solemn oloieten,
• /•* ■ ' ® a --bM«-tbingr* t
> ■ jf ls Vows with iaintug mouth.
Then, on the soft wind floating,
, The sound peals on again— ,
Two wounded hearts are beating
With, suffering's deepest pain !
Stotellantan*.
THE WIFE’S TRIAL.
“My cousin Madeline Garter is comin :
front town on a visit to us, Alice.”
Mrs. Lund looked up wonderingly into her
husband’s face, aa he spoke. . The name was
strange to her; she had never heard him
mention this cousin before.
.“And'when, is she coining?” she asked,
glancing quickly around the break-fast room.
'Mr. Lund smiled and tossed a dashing-look
ing letter into his wife’s lap.,
“ Road fur yourself,” he said, “ and then
toll me how you like it.”
With a puzzled expression upon her pleas
ant face Mrs! Lund read what perhaps pleased
her and what perhaps did not, for she had a
strong control over her features, and did not
allow them to betray her secrets. At any
rate, when she had finished reading, she drew
her finger laughingly across the commence
ment of the letter, which was, “ My dear Ed
ward Lund,” and said, “Ought I to like that,
dear? that ‘possessive my,' aa wo used to say
at school, in connection with your name?”
Mr. Land shook his head. “Do you like
the handwriting?” he asked.
“ It is very beautiful,” she auswored, eva
sively. .
“ But that is not speaking plainly—do you
like it?” he ncrsistod in saying,
“ Yea, well enough,” she replied. " But
you, know I am seldom drawn very strongly
towards gay, handsome people.”
“ But how do you know that she is gay and
handsome! ” he asked.
“ The handwriting indicates as much,’ was
the reply.
“You are right, Alice, and Edward knows
it. If I were in your place I wouldn’t have
her come here at all." The voice came from
an open French window at which a fair girl
entered.
“ What! is Hester here as early as this in
the morning? ” said Mr. Lund, evidently
somewhat annoyed. “ This comes of settling
down within a stone’s throw of one’s, old
home. Now, chatterbox, what have you to
say of Madeline Carter? ”
“.That if T. were iri Alice’s place I would
not care to have her here—nothing more nor
less,” was his sister’s reply.
“And why not?’’ asked her.brother,
Heater looked annoyed. She did not know
whether it would do for her to speak her mind
or not. Shaking her head, she said, archly,
‘ You wouldn't like me to tell why, Edward !’’
“ Nonsense !’’ said he. “ How thankful I
am that I didn’t ohoose such a little goosey
a? y°\'. for a Wl^o, Alice will bo pleased with
Madeline, jam s ure . ; n 6 pit e of your mis
-0 * v° UB oroa ' c ' n f?-. Don’t mind her, Alice."
Alice stood looking alternately at her hus
band and young sister-in-law, striving to com
prehend the meaning of their words. There
was a perplexed expression about her well
formed mouth and in her clear brown eyes.—
Whatever her thoughts were, she kept them
to herself, for she remarked, altera moment’s
pause, in an - indifferent, careless manner,
She will be here on Wednesday— to-mor
? Tr ‘N have everything in readiness for
her, Edward.”
■ Her- husband bent down and kissed her as
shospoke;—Sheroturnedthocaressmodhan
welly and let her eyes wonder searchingly
over his face.
, Never mind, Hester, Alice. Mias Carter
is a very nice accomplished girl,’’ said Mr.
W as he turned away.
.This was all of the morning’s conversation;
olr U P°,? the y° lm K wife’s heart a shad
, at J -htllon. Going to the window ehe
watched her husband as he.walked down the
Harden. The June sun glimmered through
the trees upon him. The birds wore singing
cheerily, and on either hand the sweet flow
era leaned towards'.him as if for caresses.-
This was what Alice’s eyes toolc in ; to her
heart there was no deeper meaning, perhaps.
She was restless and uneasy. After, awhile
she glanced hack towards the breakfast table,
still untouched. Near it, in a lounging chair,
her sister-in-law Hester sat reading. For a
moment, as she looked upon her, an unworthy
question framed itself upon her lips. But
she did not ask it. She had little need in
foot; for Hester, anticipating her, closed her
book and joined her at the window, •
“ Don’t feel annoyed about it, Alice,” she
began. “I’m sure Edward neveroared atall
for Madeline —at least' not half as much as ho
does for you. But at one time they were very
intimate, and mother and I wore afraid he
would marry her. But that was a long time
ego! ” i
' Alice smiled and asked, “Is she beautiful
—fascinating—did you say?”
“ Yes, after a fashion,” replied Hester.—
“ She has splendid eyes; such as will draw
one this way and that. She sings well, too,
and ha.s a commanding way of doing every-
are. dear.”
In this assurance'there was'something in
expressibly touching to the young wife: at
least, her peculiar mood made it so. There
was a little fluttering in her throat for a mo
ment, and then her eyes were suddenly.dim
med. But-she did not speak, only rested her
fair hands on the head of her sister and tried
to look Across the well-kept garden and its gay
flower-beds seen through the bpen'window.—
What a pleasant,' happy homo this was (so
she thought). How blessed had she been
above all other women 1
In memory she was carried back into the
past. All the struggles, trials and tempta
tions of. her life arose up before her. They
were not few; for with her own hands she
had,made herself a place in the busy world.
Mot few, I say ; but at the early age of twen
ty-three she had conquered life. By this, I
mean, that she knew it as women twice her
years seldom do. No matter how. Perhaps
it was through her own heart. . Love is a
great purifier sometimes, and. comes like a
rapid fire to clear away the rubbish from our
eyes. Blessed is he who can read and inter
pret what he sees I So Alice loved and learn
ed. Standing there, she .thought of it. The
. ' birth of lior lovo had given her great pain.-
When she looked at it steadily and well, her'
heart was filled with joy. We ought to thank
heaven every day, we who love, for the sweet
privilege of loving. Its return is the gift of
another—itself power.
Why, with all her experience, the thought
of Madeline Carter should jar so strongly,
she did hot know. As her husband’s cousin
and friend she was prepared to welcome her
—as her own friend she was afraid from her
present feelings she never could. That was
the dark side of it; Having naturally a sun
ny heart she soon found the brighter one ; and
in an hour’s time to have looked upon her as
she walked out into * the garden, one would
have Pakl tlt?t£ tho ovil s[.h'it,'was< 'ivhQlly ex
orcised away. ■
It was one of the pleasantest evenings in
June that Madeline Gaiter came. Alice had
expected to meet a handsome woman, but for
so much beauty she was not prepared. Fora
moment she started back as wed(f when a
sudden light breaks upon us. ,
“ It gives mo great pleasure to soo, you,
Madeline 1 ” said Mr. Lund, shakingher hand
cordially. And then turning to his wife, pre
sented her.
Madeline's proud eyes flashed widely open
upon her. . At a glance she soomodto take in
her whole character. How much a single
look will express 1 The one that passed be
tween the two women was fraught with mean
ing. It said, “I shall hate you!” From
Madeline's eyes it was. like a swift, strong
blaze; from Alice's like the piercing gleam of
a star—sharp and lance-like. This was thoir
meeting, although tl\ey a(l the while clasped
thoir white hands together and smiled. A
servant asked to speak to Alice for a moment,
and she left the room. When she was gone,
Madeline congratulated Mr, Lund upon his
happiness, his home, his wife. She did this
with a thudi of tenderness in her clear, skil
fully managed voice.
“ I always know, Edward,” she said, in her
old familiar way, “ that some time you would
bo settled down in just this way for life.—
Isn’t it delightful ?”
“Very,” replied Mr. Lund, smiling..“l
used to prophesy, too, if I remomber right
ly,” ho added, a little archly.
V But you wore a false prophet,” said his
cousin. “ I knew you wore then.”
“ Yes—no!” ho said. “Circumstances on
tiroly justified my conclusions. You’ll admi
that, I’m.sure.”
“ Not even that,” she replied
Edward smiled again. lie was used to her
evasive answers. They seemed to please him.
From her manner ho was led to watch her
closely. - How beautiful she was I As ha
thought this, a little tender breeze swept np
from toe fragrant paths' of the past. It was
so pleasant that ho deemed it harmless. So
ho turned his faoetowards it. It grew strong
er then, and swept through his heart even.—
Ah, Edward Lund, what a dangerously deli
cions pleasure was that I
Madaiino Carter came for a visit of a few
days, Imt they lengthened out into weeks, and
still she did not speak of going. At dinner
one day she said, turning her face towards
Mr. Luud, while she fixed her eyes upon
Alice:
“ When I was shopping in Bath this morn-
ing, I mot Mr. Ralph Morrison, whose ac
quaintance I made last year in town. Find
ing I was staying here, he said ho knew Miss
Thurlow before she became Mrs. Lund, and
should take an opportunity of calling ere ho
left Bath. I think you will like him. Some
people call him very attractive. What is
your opinion, Mrs. Lund?”
At that moment Edward raised his eyes to
Alice’s face. It was so pale that it startled
him.
“Are you ill ?’’ ho asked, rising quickly
from his chair.
“No, no—pray be seated,” she answered,
glancing deprecatingly into his face. “ I was
a little dizzy—it has quite gone now.”
Meanwhile Madeline had watched her
closely. There was a satisfied, knowing look
about her mouth and in her eyes. A good
reader of human faces would have known
that there was a certain triumph at her heart.
“ I hopo the thought of seeing Ralph Mor
rison does not affect you so, Mrs. Lund,” she
said, gaily. “I shall feel obliged to warn
cousin of him," she added, half playfully.
Alice’s face crimsoned, and forainomcut
she did not answer. Even Edward seemed a
little disturbed at her strange appearance, for
ho raised his eyes to her face, as though anx
iouslymwaiting her reply.
“ I would advise you to do so, Miss Carter.
Perhaps Edward will appoint you to watoh
mo closely when the gentleman calls," Alice
said at last, laughingly.
“ Perhaps so," said Madeline, opening her
eyes to their full width.
" I hate you,” was the look that passed be
tween them then, fierce, deep and strong.—
Edward felt it. The swift current touched
and thrilled him, but ho was like one stand
ing in the dark. -
On the following morning Ralph Morrison
called. Ho was a dark, handsome man, with
a smooth tongue and a soft voice. Mr. Lund
did not like him, and so gathered his dignity
about him like an icy garment. Alice was
very quiet, and a little paler than usual; but
Madeline was all grace and beauty. Her
eyes shone like stars. They were so bright
that what was lying in their-depths could not
bo seen. Before he left, Mr. Morrison spoke
a few low words to Alice, and as ho did so,
'Madeline scanned the face of Mr. Lund
closely.' ' ■ ’
"They were very dear friends once," she
said, seeing how indifferent ho was.
Ho glanced towards them- quickly at this,
and then looked inquiringly into her face.—
Her words were simple' enough, but they
weighed down with meaning. As if annoys
ed, she drooped her eyes, and, playing with
her bracelet, remarked, in a confused, half
troubled way; “ Excuse mo ; I supposed you
might have known—nover'mind. Mr"
Morrison is bidding Alice good-night."
Ho was',' indeed ! But why should Alice,
stand blushingly before him? Edward was
startled out of Ifis composure for a moment.
Ho turned to Madeline. She had risen from
her - chair, and stood with her beautiful head
bent thoughtfully forward.
“I am quite puzzled,” ho said, in a low
tone. *• I must hear more of this,” ho added,
quite forgetting himself.
This was but the beginning of disquiet.—
With Edward Lund it •increased daily. Be
tween Alice and himself a strange coldness
sprang up, but Madeline was everything to
him. Ido not say that he was conscious of
this ; hut, doubting his wife, he made Mada
lino his friend. ■ ,
It was so like old times to bo with her, he
would say to himself—so like the pleasant
days of his , youth, when ho listened to her
sweet, .musical voice. Sometimes he. used to
wish that she could not read him quite so easi
ly ; that she did not know; quite, so well of
the little trouble between Alice and himself.
But afteb a while he ceased to think of this
even, and Alice went further from him; How
wnuld.it ciid? As the beautiful enchantress
willed, perhaps. But the good angels of
earth are many ; they watch aa well as the
bad
One evening Madeline told' Edward that
Mr. Morrison and Alice had been lovers once.
She said this in an artless, innocent way, as
though she did not half comprehend what
she was saying. But he drunk in every word
eagerly. ,
“ why did they hot marry ?” he asked.
“There had been a misunderstanding be
tween thbm—they'had mit quite comprehend
ed each other,’’was. the reply.
“And now 7”,said'Edward.
"Oh, they oo~uld see how it was now,.of
course,”, said- Mavdalino. "“ People could al
waj's-ace W.hca a>\
evil.’’ ‘ ’
“Yes. yes,” said Edward;
loved deeply 1 ”■
“Yes,” replied .Madeline.
The word came with a sigh. At that mo
ment it fell wclcomcly upon his cars. Mad
eline, perhaps, had. loved him deeply ho
thought. Involuntarily ho raised her hand
to his Lips.
Ah, Edwar.d—Eilward Lund 1 could you
hare soon the pale face bent towards you at
that moment—could you have seen the. terri
ble look of agony that passed over it, you
might have stayed 'your feet from the path
which they were treading. The beautiful
hand would havo scorched your lips like fire I
■ Softly, noiselessly, Alice stole up to her
chamber. In the darknecs upon her knees,
clasping her hands across her forehead. Her
prayer was, “Be merciful—bo merciful, my
Father!”
» » . * , * *.
« *
“It is so cruel, bo wickedly cruel!” So
Hester Lund kept saying to herself, ns she
sat by Alice's bedside during the illness that
followed that nigh't. But Alice did hot speak
lit all, only mutely with her largo brown eyes.
She kept her paleface hidden in the pillow,
aud muffled the heavy sobs that broke so con
stantly upon her lips. At first Edward came
to see her; but Hester suggested to him one
day, as she saw. him approaching his wife’s
chamber, with a- troubled expression upori his
face, his mouth stern and his brows knit, that
it would bo bettor for him to allow Alice a
few days of uninterrupted quiet. Ho looked
at her keenly as she spoke.
“ Then I am a trouble to Alice?” ho said,
in a low voice, scarcely above a whisper.
“I did not say that you were. But some
thing troubles her, I am surd of that," was
the quick answer.
“I do not doubt that it does,”, said he.—
“I have ample proof.”
“And so have I,” retorted Hester, under
her breath, turning away.
This conversation was on the landing, near
the bod-room door, opposite to Madeline's
room. _ At the door of her chamber, which
was slightly ajar, Madeline Carter listened to
it. Her beautiful face gleamed in its tri
umphant joy.
“Wo shall see—we shall see, Alice Lund;
who conquers!” she said, clasping her hands
together. “To fail is to die, and that you be
gin to feel 1 But for this little quick-eyed
Hester I must keep it sharp look-out.”
When Madeline wont down to dinner that
day sho wore her sweetest smiles.
“ How was Alice,” she asked of Hester.
“ Much bettor,” was the cool reply, given
with a corresponding glance.
“ Would she ho down stairs soon 1 I would
have visited her, hut feared that I might dis
turb her,” said Madaline.
“ You most certainly would,” was the
prompt, decisive answer. ,
Edward raised his eyes in surprise. Hes
ter looked him firmly in the face. Madaline
watched them smilingly, “ I roust see to that
Hostbr," sho thought to herself.
At the expiration of a week Alice insisted
upon going down stairs, Hester protested
that she was too weak, and Edward expressed
a fear that she might endanger her health by
so doitjg. But she was firm in her resolu
tion, and so at dinner time that day she took
her plaoo at the table again, She was looking
poorly. None folt this mSro keenly than did
Hester, and in’ consequence sho hated Mad
eline Carter most deeply. How the little
play would ond she did not know; but she
thought to herself that in it she would not
be an idle character—that she would help
‘ thlPplot'fba spoodyTfenonemnit,-impossible,-
How strange it was that Mr. Morrison, who
had absented himself from the house during
Alice’s illness, should make his appearance
on the first evening which sho spent down
stairs. To Edward Lund it was inexplicable.
To all appearance it was the same to Made
line. But Hester was content to watch with
out wondering,
Alice was. lying upon the sofa when Mr.
Morrison was announced. Her husband was
near enough to her to see the taint color arise
“OUR-COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS UK KIGIIT.-BUT, RIGHT OR WRONG, OUR COUNTRY.”
CARLISLE, PA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 2, 1862.
I in 'her cheeks at the' plentiful of his name.
With a quick, hurried glanotr hbout him, Mr.
Morrison bent over .Alice nnU whispered a
few-words. When he l turned away Hester
went at once to her.
*■ Toll me what he said, Alice dear,” she
began taking her hand. .
“ That he was happy to see mo down-stairs
again," she answered, raisipg her eyes won
doringly to Hester’s lace. " i,
“ And was that all ?" asked Hester.
“Yes"replied Alice, stilliWondoringly.
“ That is well,” said HestqV,' “ Some time
you shall know why I askeit'you."
Madalino clenched her hartds together, and
under her breath cursed Hester Lund j for
what, she know not. The gift's face was un
readable as a sealed book. There was noth
ing to be gathered from tliaf. Perhaps her
step was a little firmer; her head, always
finely carried, look a moro-ehpfident poise, as
she turned from Alice to-vycr seat again.
There wassomothing, at ahy/rate, that jarred
with Madalinc’s thougl.ty To all present it
was an unpleasant, evening.: But Mr. Mor
rison was never more wittyljr entertaining.
it was tho same to hembrother; that beyond
Alice, he oared little for any .of the company.
His eyes constantly sought; her face. His
head was bent towards h.cr_ as ho spoke,
and as though suddenly ooriSeious of betray
ing too deop an interest, ho. would occasional
ly turn his face towards Madeline, but it
would be for a few moments only, and then
to Alice again.
When he turned to leave the room that
night, Mf. Morrison drew bis handkerchief,
from his pocket, and as ho did so, a 1 delicate
little note dropped on tho carpet close at Ed
ward’s foot. . Mr. Lund stopped to pick it up.
Suddenly his eye caught thy address; it was
in tho delicate handwriting of Alice! Ho put
.his foot on tho note and bowed Mr. Morrison
from the room. »J?or a moment lie stood as
white ns marble. The perspiration gathered
in largo drops upon his forehead. His lips
were tremulous but not with; speech. He
knew then, when slio seemed to go forever
from him, how deeply arid ivcll ho had loved
Alice ; that his passion foriMadeline,' com
pared to that; was no more than is the ; first
breath of spring to. the rich.ijlow of summer.
He had been ; feeling this ntjhthe evening, .as
he anxiously watched the invalid’s fade. Ho
gathered the note in hja hidid, and crushed
it there. n'
“.What is it, Edward?” Hester
softly.
He waved her away wit! hii hand. His
eye sought Alice.
“ Not riotv,” she said, f
Ho-turned round. Made
(quietly from the room. : ;'K r
‘ “Yes,.now!” ho said almost fiercely.
Alice looked up,, and iMif went to her.
“ You are no longer my wifjfc” ho said, look
ing into her paleface as hdSpokc.
She started up wildkv. .|ls if to crush her
down again, ho hold trio noji boforc her eyes.
She read— . - . • ..
evening. If you love me/i.pno' ,
. >, A 1,1 CE.”
" I'never wrote it. Edward, Edward! bo
lievo mo!” she cried, sinking back upon the
sofa in a swoon.
“ but had they
o turned away.
Horushod out of the lioone, down the ave
nue towards the villiage. Ho did not know
or carp where or which way ho wont. So ho
wandered about till nearly midnight. Ho
was drinking from the same cup that he had
pressed to Alice’s Kps. ■ '
“Morrison’s heart-blood shall blot out this
wrong!” ho said to himself in the heat of
his mad passion. Then ho thought of Made
line. .Instinctively ho cursed her, and then
himself in turn. ’At last he turned towards
home. lie gninodit by a roundabout way that
led him to the farm-buildings situated in the re
motest parts of his grounds, lie entered by aside
gate; and as ho walked along the, grass by
the side of a path, densely shaded, ho caught
the sounds of voices. Ills first thought was,
that Alice might be there keeping tryst with
Ralph Morrison. He listened shudderingly.
Behind the thick screen of rustling evergreens
Morrison and Madeline wore talking. How
long they had boon there ho had . no idea.
But they wore talking of him, he, thought.
Hearing his name mentioned, he moved more |
closely to them,
, “The plot deepens,” Madeline said. “I had
no idea that it would work so well. You have
acted your part well, Ralph,”
“ Why should I not ?” said ho. “ Alice
Thurlow did not , turn from my heart’s
beat love for nothing. I swore to her then,
if time were spared to mo, I would strike at
tbo londerest part of her life. Even now she
thinks the blow is deep, bul she has not felt
it yet I Do you remember how pale she
turned when I first spoke to her? She' had
not forgotten my words. They will go to her
grave with her.” . •
. “I pray they may,” said Madeline, in a
tone of deep passion ; .“ and ns for me, I core
not how soon. She took my heart away from
me, .when she married my cousin, Edward
Lund. I have been a fiend ever since. I
stood at the door to-night when ho held the
note before her byes. How happy I was,
when I saw that agonised look break over
her pale face? She little.thought who had.
mixed the burning draught that was raised
to her lips. And Ed ward— —"
“ You are a strange woman Madeline,”
said Morrison. “ I like your strength and
bravery. You are shivering with the cold.
Let me lend you to the house.”
“No, I am not cold,” she answered. “Life
is too deep for that to-night. This revenge is
maddening, intoxicating. My brain is on fire 1
My heart seems burning within mn 1”
“I must insist upon your going in,” said
Morrison said something more, but Ed
ward could not'quito distinguish what it was.
Something about “ living until the victory
; was entirely won” was the burden of his
words ns they moved away.
When Edward readied the house he found
Aliso asleep, Ho bent over her couch. He
could see then how sadly she was changed—
bow pale and thin she hod grown. She turned
upon her pillow, and whispered his name
brokenly. Tears gathered m his eyes. His
heart was full.
“ Forgive me, Alice 1” ha cried, ns she open
ed her eyes upon him. !
“Oh Edward, you wronged mo 1” said she.
“ I did hot write that note; How could you
think so? I do not love any one but you ; you
are all that I have in the wide world.”
—'He : took-herhandB-tendeplyinhiB,-andin
broken sentences told her I ,what he had learn
ed And more, he told her of this strange in
fatuation, nowgono for evdrj.and he promis
ed to be all in the years to come that ho had
bean in the past—-tender, true and loving.
The next morning ho carried Alice down
to the broakfastroom in his arms, and placed
her close beside, him at the table in the loung
ing chair. Madaliuo looked wondonngly
■upon him. She was taken by surprise, that
■he forgot the port sbo was playing.
“ You have killed her?” said Hester, as
“ I did not think to see you down to break
fast, Alice," said she.
Edward bit his lips. “ Are you quite well
this morning?” ho asked, raising his eyes to
Madalino. ' -
“O r yes, quite well!” sho replied.
“ Then you did not take cold last evening?”
said her cousin.
“ Take cold ?”, sho said, changing color. ;
" Yes, Mr. Morrison was apprehensive that
you would," said Edward. “ And it was ex
tremely careless of you standing out in the
night air so long. Did you go out immediate
ly after leaving the room ?"
“ No—-that is " she stammered.
“ You stopped to glance through the door
while Alice,road your note,perhaps ?" he asked,
in the same cool, collected tone.
She flashed her eyes upon him. They
shone like balls of lire in her anger. Sho
arose from the table. Trying to speak, her
rage nearly choaked her. “I hate you, Ed
ward Lund," she said, as she swept out of the
room. 1
An hour later Madalino Carter was on her
way to the Bath. station. Sho did hot stop
tn Urnrilr hoi- lu.af-.'ncl nrti-
trnoted hospitality, or oven to bid them' good
bye.
, For a long time Edward and Alice sat at
the breakfast table, while Hester was read
ing by the window. The breeze came in gent
ly, laden with the summer's dying perfume ;
the canary trilled in its cage: the sunshine
throw its golden dines farther and farther
across the table. The young wife smiled:
the shadows wore dispersed.
Sentence of. a.Slate Trader. —Nathauie
Gordon, convicted in the United States Court,
at . New York, of piracy in carrying slaves
from the coast of Africa, was sentenced on
Saturday morning by Judge Shipman to bo
hung. In sentencing him, the Judge said :
In the verdict of the jury it is my duty to
say that the Court fully concurred.' The
evidence of your guilt was so full and com
plete as to exclude from the miuds of your
triors all doubt.
You are soon' to be confronted with the
terrible consequence of your crime, and it is
proper that I should call to your mind the
duty of preparing for that event which will
soon terminate your mortal existence, aud
usher you into tho presence of the Supreme
Judge 1 Lot me implore you to seek the spiri
tual guidance of the minister of religion, and
let your repentance be os thorough and hum
ble as your crime was groat.
Do not attempt to hide its enormity from
yourself. Thiuk of the cruelty and wicked
ness of seizing nearly a thousand follow be
ings who hover did you harm, and thrusting
them between the decks of a small ship be
neath a burning tropical sun—to die of dis
ease or suffocation or bo transported to dis
tant lands, and consigned, they and their
posterity, to a fate far more cruel than death!
Think of tho suffering of tho unhappy be
ings whom you crowded on to the Erie, of tho
holpioss osony and, terror aa ypp ty.ok.,them
from their native land, and especially think
of those who perished under the weight of
thejr miseries on the passage from tho place
of your capture to Monrovia!
llomcmbor that you showed mercy to none,
carrying eff, ns yoii tlid, not only those of
your sex, but woman and helpless children.
Do not flatter yourself that because they be
longed to a different race from yourself your
guilt is therefore lessoned. Bather fear that
it is increased.
In the just and generous heart tho humble
and weak inspire compassion, and all for pity
and forbearance, and as you are soon to pass
into the presence of that God of tho bldek man
as well as tho white man, who is no respect- t
or of persons, do not indulge fora moment
tho thought that he hears with indifference
tho ery of tho humblest .of his children, ,
Do not imagine because others shared in ,
(ilino had stolen
the guilt of enterprising yours is therefore
diminished, but remember tho awful admoni-
tion 6t your Bible “though hand joined on
hand the wicked shall not go unpunished.’’
Turn your thoughts towards Him who alone
can pardon and who is not deaf to the supply
cations of those who,sock His mercy.
It remains only to pronounce the sentence
which the law affixes to your crime, which is
that you be taken back to the city prison
from whence you were brought, anil remain
there until Friday, the 7th day of February
next, and then and thence to the place of exe
cution, between the hours of twelve o’clock
at noon aud throe o’clock in the afternoon yon
bo hung by the nook until you are dead, and
may the Lord have mercy on your soul.
The prisoner was not in the least affected,
althoilgh the Judge and the spectators exhib
ited considerable emotion.
He was remanded, and loft the Court wit
his counsels.
“ Bidin’ on a Railroad Keer.”
A most voracious chronicler relates, Ik the
following fashion, the experience of a young
lady from the rural districts who lately visit
ed the city, accompanied by her peculiar
swain, and took an appreciative view of the
elephant: •
Hotting into one of the city cars for n ride,
the maiden took a sent, while the lover plant
ed himself on the platform. The graceful
vehicle bad sped but a few short blocks, when
the' bonificently young conductor insinuated
himself into the popular chariot for the pur
pose of collecting expenses. Approaching
the rustic maiden, he said affably:
“ Your faro, miss.”
The rosebud allowed a delicate pink to
manifest itself on hor cheeks, and looked
down in soft confusion. The justly popular
conductor was rather astonished at this, and
ventured to the remark ouco more:
“ Your fare, miss.”
This time the pink deepened to carnation
and tho maiden fingered her parasol with
pretty, coquettishness. Tho conductor really
didn’t know what to make of this sort of
thing, and began to look a little foolish ; but
as a small boy at the other end of tho car be
gan to show signs of a disposition to leave |
without paying for his rido, tho official man
aged to say onco more;
Hem! miss, your faro.”
In a moment those lovely violet oyos woro
looking up into his face through an aurora
of blusnos, and tho rosy lips exclaimed:
Well, they dew say I’m good looking at
hum; but I don't see why you want to say
it out so loud!” • . , ,
It was not a poal of thunder that shook tho
oar just then. Oh, no. It was something
thst'commenced in a general titter, and oul
minatod in such a shattering-guffaunerstewr
torian lung alone aro capable of, In tho
midst oftheoaohinatory tempest, tho " lovyer?
damn to the rescue of his Dosiana, and, when
the "pintof the hull thing’Sjyfis (explained
to him, his mouth proportions
that might have mado Barnum’s hippopotamus
dio of jealousy on the spot, Tho pair des
cended from the car amid a' salvo of mirth,
and when last soon were purchasing artificial
sweetmeats at a candy shop
f%.:- , ■ ■ ..m
MATIIIMONI.IL infelicities.
DT AN IRRITABLE HAN.
THE MORNING AFTER,
i “What in the world is the matter with,youf ”
Titled iny wife, when; after having finished
®y breakfast, I moved ray chair back from
the table, preparitory to reading the mdning
papers.
.'‘•Nothing,” she replied, in a tone .however,
which clearly signified the reverse.
“But I know there is," I answered; "for
you have spoken scarcely a word since I sat
down to breakfast."
“I did not suppose,” she said, “that you
oared to have mo speak. It does hot seem
probable that a husband, who will leave his
wife alone an entire evening, ns you have
done, could have any wish to hear her utter a
word.” ■ ...
“A pood deal will depend, my dear, under
those circumstances," I replied, “ns to what
the subject of her conversation may bo. If
she bo likely to find fault with him for bav
inp passed one evening on; of—say a month,'
liinß suo luuT
away from wliy fliea x .
bettor remain silent." .
“Oh I you think so, do you !" she exclaimed,
“then all I can say is, that, so fur as I am con
cerned, I will not have my tongue tied, but
willtell you just what. I think of such acts.”
“Yery well, my dear,” I saidaalfgo on; I
will listen. But first let mo that I
think it was very unkind in you not to sit up
forme last night. A good wife will sit up for
her husband, when’ he is out, until morning,
if he comes not home before.. Then, too, lot
mo toll you, it is confoundedly unpleasant to
find all the lights out, and the very.gas itself
turned off, and not a candle or match to be
found anywhere. If it had not been for tbo
moonlight, which streamed in at the window,
I should have broken riiy neck stumbling over
the chairs, which, it seems to me, wore pur
posely placed where V might run against
them. Now, if there be one thing I,dislike
more than another, it is to break my nock
stumbling over chairs in the dark.”
“Well you are a nice man, I roust say,”
ray wife replied. “I really had ho idea that
you wore iu the extreme state which your
own words imply. In the first place, the gas
was loft burning, and now that you have
drawn ray attention to it, I see it is burning
at this moment—please, thru it off will you ?
Iu the next, it was raining hard when you
came homo, and consequently the moou.was
not shining. As for your not being able to
find the candle and matches, why I think it
would prove a matter of little consequence to
one who could not toll gas. light from moon
light, though so fur as the fact of the qase .
goes, both the caudle and matches were in
their usual place. Lastly, as to your break
ing your neck by stumbling over chairs, why
all I have to say is, that I think you will be
likely to Vivo a thousand years before such ah
event occurs. What I must look at and re
gret, however, is that you are sotting aimoat
pernicious example to the children,” '
“Good gracious I” I exclaimed, “what n wo
man you arc to talk. Why the children; were
sound asleep when I returned, and if-you
didn’t toll them, they wouldn’t know wheth
er I came home on my head or feet. I must
say, too, I think it was very .wrong in you to
pretend to be asleep, and allow mo to stumble
around in the dark os you did,"
“But, I tell you, it was hot dark," my wife
replied; “I saw every stop you took, and if
you had broken your nock over the chairs, as
you imagine you almost did, I should have
been the first to have known it."
‘.‘l suppose you would have known it," I
said, “even before I wore aware of it myself.”
“Very likely,” she answered, “for you
seemed to know very little. But suppose,
now, you toll roe whore you were Inst evening.
You loft the house, saying you wore going to
the market, and would return in a few mo
ments.; I waited.for you patiently till olevon
o’clock, when I went to bod, and I know it
must have been after twelve when you came
homo. I did not know but that you had been
robbed.and murdered, and I really was very
much alarmed about, you,”
“You mutt have been exceedingly alarmed,"
I answered, “to have gone to sleep as you did.
The fact is, if there be one thing I dislike
more than another, it is to come homo and
find my wife abed,”
“ You have said just the contrary,” the
amiable woman answered,.“ when you have
found me sitting up for you. The truth is,
there is no pleasing you men. We poor wo
men are snubbed anil curbed at every stop in
life by you lords of creation. Oh 1 I some
times wish I wore a man, if it wore only to
show your sox how to treat ours properly. I
But you have not yet told mo where you wore l
.last,night,"
“Oh! I went,” I replied, “to hear Ma
dame Bishop sing the “ Blag of our Union,
and I wish you bad boon with mo.”
“I should have liked nothing better,” she
answered; “but you never asked mo to no-
company vou. 'Well, how wore you pleased ?”
“Oh 1 I didn't hoar her,” I. said ; “ I met
a friend who invited me to go and see the
Clinton Guards drill. They are a splendid
corps, my dear. I wish you had boon with
mo.”
“ I wish I had,” my wife replied; " but
remember you did not ask mo. Toll me,
though, how: the Guards appeared.”
“ Well, actually, my dear,” I replied,
“ I didn’t see them. My . friend and my
self thought w’d stop first and .take some
oysters at the Wavorley j and while eating
them, we concluded wo would. go to the
Winter Garden and hoar Blake and Sothoru.
Really, I wish, you had boon with us.”
‘•I wish I had,” my wife answered; “for,
of course, you wont to the Winter Garden.”
“ Well, no,” I answered j “ hut what a
woman y° u aro to questions. You’d
make a good lawyer, I hope you are through
now, pt all events, for if there bo one thing I
dislike more than another, it is to bo cross-
questioned."
“ But you kayo not told me yet whore you
went," she said. "So you didn’t hear Blake,
after all.”
“ Not exactly,” I replied, “ although we
met a friend of ray friend’s, whose name was
Blake, and with whom we took tome more
oysters."
” 0 ! you took more oysters, did you I” my
wife ejaculated. “I noticed your appetite
was exceedingly limited this morning. Wall,
after those second oysters, whore did you
go?"
“ Good gracious I" I oxolaimod, “ 1 won’t
answer any more questions. I have patiently
borne being catechised till yoq have extract,
cdfrommoovory thingthatl-oantellftbciut
where I went, and what I did, last night)
and I won't endure it any longer. If you
want to know anything more, you’ll have to
see my friends and ask them,”
“ 1 am afraid, my dear,” my wife replied,
sadly, “ That you went somewhere that you
would not care to havo me know.”
‘‘(Well you certainly are a most suspicious
and foolish woman,” I said, 11 to think your
husband should go whore he would bo
ashamed to take li
had been with me.’ 1
“ I truly wish 11
“ The fact, is,
after the second pit
come home."
“ Well, you stop)
I presume," my wif
“ Yes, I believe w
then after that, soi
when, exactly—l gi
eat too many oyste
quite a headache
think that oysters, ai
good in Juno as thb
son T"
“ I don’t think the;
of them," my wife re
i(nd, my dear, let m
any more with your c
Prom-iso mo that, wi
I promised, by kb
113 1 smoothed the ha
“ And you’ll not gi
op, or to soe the Guai
tor Garden,”, she oont
me with von 1” -
1 said I would nc
kissed me.
An AutuuN for i
something exquisitely
of the Rov. Mr. FI etc
Universalist Church at
sgo, from the text: “A
Ho is speaking of the
fine weather of the au
“Summer, glorious
summer, loth to leave
lingered and broathei
dens long after the ui
ture. Autumn come,
walked along, so got
that Ho wore looked u p
loveliness beneath the i
reign. Bat they hav
and parted company, i
frost autumn has spoi
ness of the field and
with russet the folia;
even now wo have her
and by such measured
is-she conducting us fn
that will ere long wet
wo are scarcely consei
is as if.the power wide
their,coursp and gives
seasons; had looked in
tered soldiery of our
tempered the winds ti
necessities; as if he pi
destitution, aud by. this
had kept the sunlight c
wolcomesubstitute forf
in an atmosphere so m
been suffering for wint
new and fearful oxiger
demanded a delay'in t
sons, and God had key
towards the autumnal
nriuies time in which
Faun Culture. —A
I lain, of Newport; U. I
od, after years of pat
' mofat, in perfecting a |
and flowers in small w
moss, and lias obtaii*e
the (jovorument. In (
lately shown at a horti
Brooklyn, N. Y., were
and vigor, a miscellanec
usually contained - on fl
basket was filled with
all stages of growth, thi
extra size qua of most 1
November; in q third
vine, which had yielde
superior grapes; in afo
which had produced ten
in color and taste as ai
the ordinary way, and
buds for next year’s cror
wonder was a pine appl
moss basket, and far sup
to those grown in pots, i
borlainjstatocl that ho bad
would tell them the i
which wore moss, bom
sand and that the plant
liquid manure about twi
A Good
Wo wore yesterday to
jolly old landlord of Gor
keeps a hotel not a hum
this place. A friend in
seated him with a line
proposed to give n free p;
tion to his friends, and t
the art of handling then
before the exhibition in
with a lighted candle, an
piling a vorticlo pin-wh
gimlet. This covering
procured an overcoat, an
pent, whloh exploded In
his dog, nearly killing If
His next exparimont
rocket, which 'he ignitei
hand. Wo will deserih
own words. He says :
“I sots her a fire—the
pulls—don she pulls ag
glo hug flies all over me
don do darn ting purshes
de hot,”
Secessia Jokes. —The
jokes pleasantly enough
and seems disposed to pi
bad matters. In a late m
old table of school days, “
coot, ten cents one dime,
lar," is played out. A d
hard spelter, is a sight gt
tics, and a five minutes’ si
in specie would cure the
of Asiatic cholera. But i
bio of currency, and it is )
of charge, for the benefit o
to cut it out and past it up
10 omnibus tickets make
5 Soholk’s beer tickets
invested in lager.
10 frost's beer tickets s
plaster.
1 handful of sbinplusteri
worn off) make a man ousi
10 half dollars make a foo
40 beer tickets, 10 omnibu
ful of ahinplaators and nai
an honest man steal. If t
like to know what will.
BgjT'When you see a j
amod to carry a parcel ai
can make up your mini
obanoe, ho will come to so
BIT - Why is a sailor’s s
carded by her beau ? Bern
OC7"It is only thosd wl
ing who fancy they can dt