VOL. «»■ jHUSA^JOLIfcTEEB. rtIUSHED EVEiIV THDItBiAV llb'nVlKO BT JOHN B. BftATTdfl. , TEH*-S': • _ anmi-niPTiOK.— I Two DMlaft Within thp > .Ld Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if not paid J !“ hi ’ tho year. Those terms will, bo ’Hgjtlly nd ‘ h lto in every instance. No subscription dia- Sinncd until all arrearages are paid unless at \Z option of the Editor. . AnvEaTiSKMENTS— Accompanied by tJiecVsn, and e„l exceeding one square, will bo inserted three times for Orib Dollar, and twonty-fivo cents for each additional insertion. ThoSo of a greater length in • proportion.- ' , , Jon Pbiktiso—Such ns Hand-bills, Posting-bills Pamphlets, Blanks; Babuls, Ac. Ao., executed. with ccuracy and at tho shortest’notice. fotlltal. .: : LIFE AND DEATH, Spring was busy in the woodlnhda, Climbing up from peak to peak, Aa nn old man flat and brooded, With a, flash upon bis cheek. Jlony years pressed hard upon -farm, And his living friends wero fotv, And from out the sombre future .Troubles drifted iute view. -. . Thera ia something moves on fltrangclyv ■ln alii ruins.gray with years ; \’tit thoro'fl something far more touching In au old.face Wot with tears. " And ho saf there, sadly sighing " O’er his feebleness and wrongs, v . Though the birds outside his window Talked of summer in their songs. ' But, behold! a change ebmfcs o’er him Where are .all his sorrow •♦•now? . Could they leave.-his heart as quickly- As the gloom clotida left his brow ? tp the green slope of his garden, . Past tho.diftl; ho saw fun . Three young girls, with bright eyes shining, Like'their brown beads, in.the sun !, There was Fanny, ftilhqd for wistlom.t ’ Ami fair Alice, famed for pride; ' And one that could say !‘ My.uuolp, ; ” And said-little elso-beyido., -‘. •And that'vision sthrtlcd mclhoric'fc, That,soon hid all-scones of strife, -Sending floods of hallowed sunshinfc •Through the ragged routs - of life. 'Thou they took him from his study, Through long lanes and tangled bowdr'a, Oufinto the shaded valleys, TUel»ly“ tinted o’er with flowers. •Arid lio-hicssod their merry voices, • 7 Singing round him as he wont, ' For the sight of their wH.d gladness Filled his own heart'with content. And, that night, there came about bipi ' Far-off meadows pictured fair, 1 Ami'old woods-iii which he wandered Ero.hoknow the name of care; And he said; .** Theso ang/?! fnecs Take th’e.whiteness frolii one’s hair!” Hiiwflanma Tim VElLiii) 511 KIM; oa, PICTURES OF THE NEW YEAR. BY HORATIO ALGER, JR. The Old Year.was fast drawing to a close. But a lew hours and the advent of his suc cessor would.bo' hailed lay merry shouts and joyful gratulntions, mingling with file merry chime of bells ringing out a noisy welcome Irmn church towers aud steeples, j. A*hitn--Hathaway, a wealthy merchant, sat m his culmting roam, striking a balance be tween his gawreauil ioB«?e«,fftr..tbe year which liiui From the smile , that lighted up his countenance, as he drew near the end of his task, it might safely be inferr ed that the result proved satisfactory, , ; Heat length threw down his pen, after Junting up the last coluaun, and exclaimed, •joyfully % , " ‘Hve thousand cio’lla’fs tvet gain in one year. That will, do very well—very welt, indeed. If I am ns well prospered in the year to come, it will indeed be a ‘ Happy WYear” . _ lbs meditations were interrupted by a Knock at the door/ He opened the dour and saw standing before him a matt of ordinary appearance, bearing uncler his Arm some* . l,n ß* the nature of which he could not con jecture wrapt up in brown paper. , • Hathaway, t believe?' was the stran € er 8 salutation. ' ‘•You are correct/ . t n - ofc P arfc >cularly engaged, you a °'Y. a few minutes' conversation with you?’ was the surprised reply ; ough lam at a loss to conjecture what have brought you hero/ and - ou a r e a wealthy 111 on, Mr. Hathaway, Ma r vei 7 J ear .increases your possessions., (inf a3a '! hat * s y°u r object in acoumuja n?l? 1 0m . property?’ , ’ ■ ' *l" 118 18 a v ery singular question, sir/ said . f. “of. who began to entertain doubts euDnn lB T fl3lt ? r ’ B sanity, ‘ very singular. I I 1|,„( „ Be , l am influenced by the same motives yi; ll ,, 3 llate other men—the necessity of pro- I trii,.,o , m y physical wants, and so con i i la B b> my happiness, nr/hi. 1 ,1 s ooutoots you? But jour gains last / to this purpose. This amn., , j’ * or oxaraple, the overplus has “Mounted to five thousand dollars/ j' n r„,„ I 1 ! 3 "’ pot where you have gained your ‘ Ilmt '^ lnn > fia ul Mr. Hathaway, in surprise. are right.’,- - , . y a what do you intend to do with this T’ ,’lon , - U - ar PjSome\yhat free with your quea nn.w-•’ However, I have no objection to , p orin Kyou; I shall lav it up.’ «... ° r W * la * i purpose ? , i ( lod— should I live more luxurious ! I ill„,; y wardrobe is well supplied—should . m h/uore expensively ?’ it j 0 -hese questions I answer- ‘ No/ -Bat houao no ‘ follow, because you have a good t plied t^°, m f° r tablo clothing, and a woll-sup l Tided [O. that others are equally well pro “huiuinneo In h™ • tl T' U|!!ht tO -Pi ivo of y. our 4 Jimte vi t 0 tluso ' v^u> >aro needy*; pro of others ,Ia PP' ny advancing that I I liavp'n ?° n^ORS this is a duty w.bich i auj i, n . e^*ec^e d. But thofo are almshouses ,i ‘ovolent societies. There caunot bo much misery that escapes thoir notice,’said Mr Hathaway. ‘ You shall judge for yourself.’ Tho stranger commenced unwrapping the package which he carried under his arm.— It was a small mirror, with a veil hanging 'before it. He slowly withdrew tho veil, and ■Said': ‘ took I’ A change passed over t'h'b 'rihrfade of thfe mirror. Mr. Hal haway, as he looked at it intently, found that itrefleoted a small room, scantily furnished, while a feint fire fliok ’ered in the grate. A bed stood in one corner of the room, on which reposed a sick than.— By the side of it sat a woman, with a thin shawl over her shoulders, busily plying with her needle, An infant boy lay in a cradle not far off, which a little girl, cal led ■Alice, wlioho frosted form an(l features spolie of wantand privation, was rooking to sleep. . ' ‘ Would'you hear what (hey are saying?’ asked the Stranger. Tho merchant nodded acquiescence. Im mediately there came to his car tltb confused ■noise of voices,'from which he soon distin guished that of the sick man, who Asked for some.food.' ‘We have none in the house,’ said his wife. ‘ But I shall soon get this work finished, and then t shbll be aide to (jet sofiio.’ , The husband groaned, * Oh, that I should ! -be obliged to remain idle on a sick bed, when Tmight bo earning money .you. and the ‘6hHdi‘en. The doctor says t.hiit;now-’tIVo fe- Ver has gone, I need nothing b'flt nourishing food to raise hie up again. But, alas! 1 see no means of procuring it. Would that some rich, man, out of his abundance; would sup ply me with but a-trifle from his bokrd,.. To him it tvduhibe nothing-=-to m’fc everything/ . The scene vanished, and gradually another formed’itaolf upou the surface of the mirror. it was a small, room,; neatly,, but not ex pensively, furnished. There were two.occu pants —a man-of middle Age, aiid a youth of a bright intellectual, countenance which, at, present, -.seemed overspread with au aiivof dejection. r •Mr.. Hathaway, to bis tiArprise, Recognized in the - gentleman Mark Audley, a fellow merchant, and formerly, intimate friend, who .hut.a few.pi'ontha -before,-liaiLfailed-iai-bosU ness ; honorable to defraud his cred itors, had given up all his property. Since his*failure-ho had been, reduced to accept a clerkship. ‘ ■ - , ‘ Tam sorry,- Arthur,’ said he to his son, * ; very sorry'that I could not carry out ihy intention of entering you at college. I know your tastes have always led yon to think of a professional career ; but my sudden change of circumstances - has placed it out,of my power .to gratify you.. It is best for .yod to accept the situation which has been offered, you, ami enter Mr. Bellamy's store: It is a very fair situation, and will suit you as well as any/ . • , * 1 believe you are right, sir,’ said Arthur, respectfully, ‘ though" it will be hard to re sigu the hopes that I have so long.cherished. .1 inetTlenry Fulham today. lie was in my class at school, an,d is,to ■entfe’f College next fail. X couldn’t help envying him. How soon will Mr. Bellamy wish tae to enter his “store ?’ t , ' ‘ # 4 *Day after to-morrow, I-believe—that is, with the heginningef the year, New Year's Bay being considered a holitfAy.’; • Very well; you may toll him that I*will come at that time.’ * - The scene vanished .’As before—a change passed over the surface of fc-h'd mirror. Again the merchant looked, and t t,o. hjta surprise, beheld the interior of HTs.dwh store. A faint light was burning, by of which a, young man whom he recognised as, Frank Bit roll, one of his own clerks, a letter, the contents of which seemed to agi tate him powerfully. .. ■ .. The scone was brought so near that he could,- without diffiiMilty trace the Ames, Written in a delicate lemule hand, as follows^ ‘My Dear Son: —You are not, probably, expecting to hear from me at this time,—. Alas! that 1 shouhl have such *n occasion to yjrite. At the time of your father’s death., it was supposed that, by the sacrifice of every thing, ive had succeeded in liquidating all his debts. Even, this consolation,is noVt denied hs. I received a call, man Mr. Perry, this hiornihg, who presented, for immediate pay ment, a note, given by your father, for fifty dollars. Immediate payment 1 How, with a salary barely sufficient to support us, can you meet such a'charge? Can any way be devised ?’ Mr. Perry threatens, if the money is nob forthcoming, to seize our ■ furniture.— Ilo.isa hard man, and I have no hopes of appeasing hint. Ido not know that you can do anything to retard it; bull have thought it right to acquaint you with this new calam ity ' Your affectionate mother, Mary BuRtLL. The-young-man-laid down the letter with an air of'depreasioi^: - , 4 t scarcely know how to provide fur this new Contingency/ said ho meditatively ‘My salary is small, and it requires the strictest economy to meet'my.expenses. I might ask for an advance but Mr. Hathaway is particular on that point, and I should but court a refusal, But to’have my mother's furniture taken from the house —the whole amount would hardly cover the debt, 'there is .one resource; but, alas I that I should ov er think of resorting to it. I could take" thdr money from the till, and return itwhen lam able. But, shall I ever be able ? It would be no more nor less than robbery. At all events I will not do it to-night. Who knows but something may turn up to help us?' The young, man blew out the lamp, and loft the store. The picture faded. ‘ I will show you another picture, some what different from the others ; it will be the last/said the stranger. The next scone represented the interior of a baker’s shop. The baker—a coarse feat ured man, with a hard, unprepossessing as peot —was waiting on a woman, thinly clad in garments more suitable for Jonathan De cember. She was purchasing two loaves of bread and a few crackers. There was anoth er customer waiting his turn. It was a gen tleman with a pleasant smile on his face. , ‘ Make haste/ said .the baker, rudely, to the woman, who was searching for her money to pay for her.purchases •„ M can't stop all day ; and here’s a gentleman that you keep waiting/ ‘O, never mind me; lam in no hurry/ the gentleman said. 4 1 am afraid/ said the woman, in an alarm ed tone, 1 that I have lost iny.rnondy.‘~l had it bore in my*'pocket; but it is gone/ ' 4 Then you may return the .bread ; I don't sell for nothing/ * Trust me for once, air. I will pay you in a. dav or two. pthorwiso my children must go without food to-morrow/ * ‘Can't help that. You shouldn't have be.on so careless/ , The woman was about turning away, when the voice of the other customer arrested her steps. - ' ; “OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE EIGHT —BUT RIGHT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY" 1 How much money have you lost?’ ho in quired. ■ Mt was but half a dollar,’ was tho reply ; ‘but it was of consequence to me, ns I can get no moPe for a day or two j and how we are to live till-then, HeoVen knows.’ ‘ Perhaps thkt frill help you to decide tho question,’ and he took from his pocket a five dollar bill,, and handed it to her. ‘ 0, sir,’ Sbiil ■‘sh'b, her face lighting up with gratitude, ‘ this is indeed generous aud noble. The blessings of ‘those .you. have be friended attend .you!’" ■She rerlitiiiled to make a few purchases, ■and thfen, with a light heart, departed. Tho latft picture fkded from the mirror-; and the Btrangof, wrapping it up, bimply ■aaid : : * Yofa 'fedehhoWrti'ttch 'happirtfess a Wfffing dnnv can produce. JVill you hot out Ofyohr abundance, make n similar experi ment*?’ The stranger disappeared-; and Mr. Hath* away awoke to find his dream terminated by the chimes of the New Year’s bells,. ‘This is something more than a dream,’ said he, thoughtfully. * I will, at all events, take counsel of the mystic, vision ; and it shall not be my fault if some hearts are not made happier through my means before ’another Sfln ketV - . AVhcn the merchant arose on the following morning, it Was with .the light heart which •Always accompanies the dctenhinlitiOti fo do right. lie was determined that the saluta tion of * A Happy New. Year’, should ;pot bo with him.a mere matter of lip service. ‘ Ibelieve,’ said he* to himself,' 4 1 will go and sob, my old friend, Mark Audley. If his , son, Arthur, is -really desirous of. going to ■ college, what is, there to prevent my. bearing >he expenses’? .lain able, and dispose ofrtiy morteyin hobotter way.! As ho, walked along with this.praisewor-. thy determination-in his heart, his atteniion , was drawn towards a little girl who ga . zing'wilh eager, wistfufeyes into the window of a .neightfontvg shop, where Were displayed in templing array some finfe oranges. lie thought—-nuy, he was cjuite sure—that -in her he recognized the little girl who figured jti t.lift /first, scene, upfolded_tUe_evgning be fore by the mysterious mirror. .By way of ascertaining; ho addressed her ip a pleasant tone.'. '■ * ‘ Your name is Alice, is it not ?’ _ 1 VYes.sir,’ said she, looking up surprised and somewhat awed; , 1 And your.father ia.sick, isho not?’ * Yes, sir; but he is almost well now.’. , ‘ I saw you were looking at the oranges in that window. Now X will buy you a.dozen if you will let me help you carry them homo.’ The purchase was made ; and the merchant walked along, conversing with .his little 'con ductor, who suOn lost her timidity. Arrived at the little girl’s home he found that he had not been deceived in his presen time-sU. It was the same room that he had seen pictured in-the mirror. The sick man was tossing uneasily in bed whfcn Alice en tered. - * See, papa ’ said she, joyfully ; * see what nice oranges I have for you ; and hero is the kind gentleman who gave them to me.’ The merchant, before he left the humble apartment, gave its occupants a timely do- - nation and made New Yenr/s Bay a day of thanksgiving. Mr. Hathaway soon found himself at the residence uThts‘friend Audley, who gave him ■a 'war'tfi welcome. * This. is.-indeed kind, 1 said he. ‘ The friendship that adyersity can not interrupt is really valuable.’ Mr. Hathaway now introduced the object of his vmib, asking: * What do .you mean to do wiffi Arthur? Ho \Vaa ucArly ready to go to college, was he not ?* *He was ; and this is one of th'e severest trials attending my. reversed circumstances, that I. am compelled to disappoint his long cherished wish of obtaining a college educa tion.’ • 4 That must, not bo/ said MK Hathaway. 4 lf you And Arthur, will consent I will my aelt pay his charges through college/^ Mr. Hathaway/ said Mr. Audlcy, in & glow of surprise and pleasure, ‘this offer evinces a noble generosity on your part that I shall never forgot. You must let .me tell Arthur the good nows/ Mr. Audloy summoned his son, and point ing, to Mr. Hathaway, said,: ‘This gentle man has offered to send you to'college at his own expense/ ' . r fhe eyes of the youth lighted up; and he grasped the- hand el. his bCneftV6to!r, waging, simply: ‘Oh, if you but knew how happy you have" made mo I’ 4 1 do not deserve your thanks/ was the smiling reply. 1 1 have learned thattp make others happy is -the- most direct to se cure mv own happiness!' ■ ■ • Mr. Hathaway took his way to the store. Arrived ther,e, he sought, out. Frank Durelt, and requested tfnW to Mop‘into Jus office, as he wished to speak to him in private. • , . ‘ Your salary is five hundred dollars ayear t believe/ said h'c, - x ‘Yes sir/ said Frank Durell, somewhat surprised. ] . v" ‘ I have comb to the conclusion chat this is insufficient, and I shall therefore advance it two hundred dollars ; and, as a part of it n° fc be unacceptable to you now, here are' a hundred dollars that you may considor •au advance/ „ . / “Sir/ said FrAnk Durell, hardly bcheVing his senses, ‘you ennnot estimate the benefit I shall derive front this generosity. My mother, who depends upon mo for support, was about to be deprived of her furniture, by an extortionate creditor; but this timely gift—a.fbr I must consider it so will-remove this terrible necessity, I thank you, sir, from my heart/ , - t . . ‘You are quite welcome/ said Uiß mer chant kindly. ‘ln future consider me your friend ; and. if you should at any time be in want of advice or assistance, do not iscruple to Confide in me/ ' ,‘ At least/ said the .rttorclntot, thoughtful ly, M have done something to ttmkb this a ‘ Happy New Year, for others. The lesson conveyed in the dream of last night shall not bo thrown away upon me. I will take care that many hearts shall have-cause to bless the vision of the veiled innaoß/ jjgy-Wo heard a eood story the other night oftwb persona engaged in a duet. Atthefiret £re, one of the seconds proposed that they should shake hands and. make up, tfhe oth er second said he saw no particular neoesaity for that, for their hands had been shaking ever since they began 1 [£7>A loin of mutton was on the table and the gentleman opposite to it took the carver in hand: ‘Shall I out it saddlewise?’ quoth he. 1 You had better cut it bridlewise,' replied bis neighbour; 1 for then we shall nil stand a better ohnnce'to got a bit in bur mouths 1* DC?” The strongest words are generally the oftenost broken. SLE, PA., TIIURMfV iNOVEI CARL , , Yrlelk An Exquisite Story of the Heart.' < Lisle Merour went home early this eve ning. Little pot had said good bye, after dinner, with a great heavy ey e that followed him all the way to the bank, and kept re minding him of some they had once closed in death in that same household. Willie was buried just three years ago to morrow. The lather wont lightly up the stairs, straight on his way, to the nursery.— Aa he turned at the head of the staircase, Mrs. Mcrcur stepped out of her dressing room door into the blaze of the hall lights,, ele gantly arrayed for*; an evening party. She in surprise at seeing her husband home so early. Pretty and piquant as she stood before him, her delicate beauty, as soft and ethereal as the dress she wore, quite dispelled the stern expression on his lips; aud the reproach in his tones died down to simple surprise, as he asked 1 : 1 Are you going out tonight, Fanny? ‘ Yesi Why not ?' she inquired, in her fluttering, girlish way. ‘ Your baby, dear,' the husband said in a sad, reproving voiefc; ; * ‘’Lisle, she’s'bnly a little unwell: 'h.nd Lctte will sit by her. She says the child is fond of her, and begs of mo to go and on-’ joy myself. She is thodghtftil ‘for me, thtfc .young yife a&dfcd, cksting a reproachful glh'hcO at thO ehfnest face, looking 'frith sui k e, disappointed inquiry into hers. ‘She says 1 must not shut myself up'like a nun/ : ‘Do you think vnu r French maid cares '•more,for you than I do, Fanny ?’ ■ The small hand worked uneasily, opening and shutting her. fhn.’ obe was always lost frlren 'tliiVstyohg man's love, spoke to.her in' this twofold, unappealable way. So.s'he ig norantly pushed aside, the steadying hand that would have guided her into beaiitifnl womanhood, and said, the . least bit pefcviSh ‘ Como,- Lisle, dqn't ttelilways milking me Rolemn. Say good night and kiss me, and tell me to go and he. happy.* The husband borit over and kissed the.red encircling thesliglit waist far .a moment frifh his firm, said in his deep, sad way:' ‘ Go and bo nappy, Fanny/ She glided down, the stairs ancl sprang in to the carriage waftlhg far her ’fit the door,, but; could not shake off the strange feeling that her husband’s manner-, had inspired, until-fairly. launched into the brilliant whirl of gidrly fenjoymenf at ftirs. Grange’s. Lisle Mercur watched her graceful, retreating fig ure until it wentnut of sight. As the front door closed lifter her ho turned - heavily, with ’the groat want his beautiful wife so lightly, comprehended, and walked to tb‘6 Wfcrsery • door, it stood •slightW’kJafv A little quer ulous voice kept repeating, ‘No.no; Pet wants Flynn/. . ‘ Sh—’sh. ’ -Lette’s b'fcre. Lotto’s better than Wynn/ Pet turned on the pillow nn'd looked at the fussy French girl with childish incredulity. ‘ Pet wants Flynn/ . Lptte whs beaming nnnnved at the child's preaiateney, and pushed her chair back im patiently. Mr. Jicrour was about to open the door and go in, Wlren he heard a rustle at the foot ol Pet’s bed, and a pale, weary-fated woman glided in from a room adjoining the nursery and stooped over tho restless (’hi hi. Her lips touched the hot cheek, 1 and two fat arm's went round her necV, like love chains from an angel’s heart. Pet was quiet now. She needed no hushing, the loath of Flynn’s cool hand was always enough for her. Lette went bustling Stiffly through the door at the foot of the crib. After a while Flynn un locked the fingers olaspVjd about her nook, and holding them in' her own, sat down by the bedside, and looked at the head nestled on the dainty pillow. Her white, illegible face was partially turned toward the hall door, where Lisle Merour stood with a fath er’s pardonable curiosity. He had always regarded his yoimg sister’s governess as a calm, gentle woman, with, soul enough for her position. To-night he caught a glimpse of something more. That pqiycr toward which childhood leaps instinctively, watched, unslumbering, self guarded in her steady gaze ; thrilled in the low sure utter ance of her conscious words. asserted itself in her .lightest s touch, Lisle MerChr sAw Why his'child wanted Flynn. She \vas one of those women who,,when one, once knows them, breathe poetry to the very elements, even though they shrink from talking or sing ing it. Tp sjlolk it, must not go through fliriny htin'ds, nil dabbing at'its freslnjosa.-r- So she tOok to this.fair child, and whispered her sweet thoughts' to her. And they grew so quietly and naturally to-- gether, that even the close-sighted father never knew Of the union, until this bight when accident showed liini .Pet’s companion ship. And his pretty .wife flashed back in his face tho truth, that as for spiritual com-" iminidn ho was alone. Pet lay so still he thought she must be falling asleep. Then ho heard her say, soft- ly: ■ - : ‘ Mamma’s gone, Flynn.’ ' Flynn smiled. , ‘ Mamma was pretty.’ ' ‘ Mamma was very pretty,’ Flynn said. ‘Why didn’t God make Flynn prettier!’ ‘ God knew,’ Flynn said, reverently ; and the child raised her eyes as she did in pray er. They cnHie,bnck brightly again. ‘Mammawore beautiful flowers !’ ‘Where?’ asked Flynn. A ‘ Herb-,’ and’ the little hands went logetlid? pver Pet’s bosom. [Pet Flynn’s flowers.’ The sweet face brightened with a mischie vous smile. ‘ Wear yours where mamma wears hors.’ . Flynn understood. She gathered the lit tle form up in her arms, and prßssSd itcloae to her,loving woman’s heart. This bud she was nurturing would open one day into Flynn’s beautiful bosonn—not mamma's. - So thought papa, as wo whited outside tile door, while the pale governess walked the nursery floor with the burden on her breast, and at last laid it down sleeping, on the bed. I’hen he went back to his room and waited for mamma. She.cnme home long after mid night, and slept late into’ the’ next morning. • When she met her husband at dinner,- she said in her childish way-quite exultingly: ‘I knew Pot would be well enough off.— Lette said she was quiet, and slept well.’ The father thought of weary .feet going to and fro inside the nursery,, and the Tow lul laby hummed softly in his -babe's ear;— Thinking of the subtle music,of;'this woman's voice, he fotgot what al.-urtiria whs’ saying, or.tjiut sho Was there. So no revelations weriMjimde. Mrs. Mcrour grew feverishly fond of ex citement and party going. Her husband’s remonstrances 'wore unheeded ; and at last, growing weary of her weak accusations, and jnsining- comparison of his oonduot-and BE Pi Is, 186& Lotte's, ho gave up the attempt of restrain ing her, until he saw that her health was rapidly giving way. Then ho plead with her,.gently, but earnestly.. She laughed at hii fear's, hnd turned to the pleasures she was inMlVpnrshing with renewed eagerness. l>hty*hr£eafifth to more decided action. Ho led her to, her thirror One fnorping, after fi night of dissipation, and 'bade her confront tho sunken checks and. great glassy eyes, staring hack in her fabolike h Solemn warn ing. She gazed for a moment like one trans fixed, and the troth fastened slowly on her unwilling cOhfccidusheSa. She could hot bear it. She turned fiercely toward him, and, with a wildecsturo, almost shrieked, * Stop your idle orating. I wiftlivoWhile ( do live/ The end of her race was reached at last, and she lay down to drc. It was a grim place she was verging oh. The .phantoms and shadows were all pnaae/l. The real ghasi'h, •the’gcnuipe gloom; wore juatoulsidc: Should .’she go back, soclcingMd of the pleasure hun ters, thi‘6ugh this place they had led her to? Ahi they were'eheerlesa guides Yio l w r . 4 1 am dying. Lisle,’ she whispered, hoarse ly. lie gathered her cold hands in his warm ones, but ho could not remove the‘chill. * i am dying, Lisle 1' sheshritkod Yy. lie bowed his head over his pilloft fill his • lips touched her dump forehead ; bat thev hud no comfort for her here. 4 Help me, my husband 1’ . Tie oou Id have helped tier once* Ile'ctfala Only turn in, his deep distress, and groan now. A quick--thought'flashed through hirti hopefully. Shall I call Flynn ?'* The dying eyes looked up imploringly.— She came in white, and marble like, as she, who lay' there in tier last agony--would*he soon. ‘Lisle could not see the eyes, in which he longed to read if there were lit pe of com fort for Jiis.wife, the liata lay ddwp so heavily On her*cheeks. ( Fanny turned to her with a wild plea in ‘every lineament of her suffering face. '* Wolp mo, Plynn I’ ‘‘God must do that.’ said a Arm sustaining voice, close in her failing ear. ■ - ‘ Where is he?’ fchsped the whitening lips. ‘ Here Fanny—closer than I can pome to you.*.; 4 lf I could see him 1 If I could feel him!’ shO crieA, clingingly, as if reaching out in the dark. -*• •Call on him as you call mo. Ask him to help.you as ynftftsk mo. Ifd; loves-yon bet ter than I, Fanny. lie can go further thaft I. lie is right lie,re. Can T t you see. him? can’t you feel bun ? said the low.voice, in. a tone that thrilled one with the consciousness of an invisible, presence. The look of terror went.from the ghastly face, and the faint shadow of aooming smile paused on the dying lips that only had breath to say : ** Y-o-s/ She was gone where they ’could do ft 6 iftof e for her. Lisle Mercer left Pet with "Flynn, and went abroad. Two years passed, and he did not return. Then*chrtie a letter shying h‘6 ft oft lu sail in two days more iO thft Solitaire. .Toward the.close Of Wife s'riri’imer, just at twilight one evening, ’tlife fiVnsat alone in tho window seat of the library, looking at the old light house far up the beach on the Hooky Pojnt. • It looks ugly—don’t it Flynn ?’ ‘ Yos,’ said Flynn, thofeghtfiilly. ‘ It looks lonely, and bare, and grim, in the day light; but how was it last night?’ Pot remembered bow the slorirt raged and the sea roared dll night, fend how she clung to Flynn, wild with fear lest they should all, home, sea and wirids, be whirled together in terrible destruction. Then, shining in thro’ (ho chamber window, gleamed that solitary light from the-old tower, and Flynn said, . ‘ Look, child, what is it like ?’ ‘ Like a star of hope, isn’t it, Flynn ?’ Flynn said yes, arid hoped it might be such’to those at sea. She did not whisper the dreadful fear she had in her heart—that a ve'aael, homeward bound, might go down that, dismal-night. She Soothed the little head that might be fatherless, and wove that in her prayers. , Later in the evening came a messenger saying the Solitaire had foundered in the storm the’night 'before, and it was reliably reported tliiit att on hoard perished. Almost within sight of home I Flynn had learned to bear cruel tidings.. So no’ono know how she 'felt. The servants gathered, whispering, in tho hall. Shfe went out, and hade them dis perse, in a husky voice, until Pet wqs asleep. The lamps were' not lighted, and th.ey-euuld ■' not see her pallid face,. She took the child to her chamber, andsat beside her until she was asleep. Then she moved like a statue down tho stairs into the presence of the cowering servants, who’wero waiting as if by instinct for her commands. ‘l\Ve will have no lights to flight, ’ she said, in a voice that thrilled through darkness, — ‘Let all retire, and the house bo quiet. . To morrow will be s am enough.’ There was no need to say for what it would he soon enough, and they, went from her presence awe stricken and Oppressed with gloom. When they were all gone she went back to the window-scat in the library; where she had been sitting'with Pet; arid kneeling down*.buried,her face in the cushions. The iml rnmr of the iVavea breaking softly dfl the beach came in 'At the open window. jV, Lisle Merenr had sailed a week in adVance of the Solita.ir.oi contrary to his expectations \Vheri he wrote. Vfheu UriS news of that ves sel’s wreck reached his family he was already impatiently moving toward homo. It was still coiii.parativoly eafl.V itt tho evening when ho aliglitted from the coach in front of his own house. Smprised at finding it closed and dark, ho wont around to the back part of tho premises, intruding to arouse one of the servants. Ashe passed tho library win dow he observed it.was open, and springing to the low bitllioHjr, he was going in, when something suddenly arrested his attention. — Stuoping'ovor to examine more closely, lie waS startled by the sight of a human face half buried irt the crimson cushions. Just, tlreri the moon cairie from under a cloud, and shone full,upon tho object at which life fetriud gazing with deep perplexity. He saw now that it was Flynn, half kneeling; half recli ning, as if she hud fallen asleep in. the midst of prayer. .... Ho callod her softly by mtmri; .but she did not move. Then he spoke in a louder voice, almost roughly, tut there came no response. He grew alrirtiiod: Ihe. strong man shook like an aspen. He raised Her head reverent ly, tenderly, and laid it against hit bosom, smoothing brick the wavy, ruffled hair, and gilding fondly in tbri.facfe ho had lopkod-upun fn-norantly, unappreoiatingly, times without number. How precious it seemed to. him then, as ho groaned aloud, ‘ Great God, have I come back for this!’ -Ho thought she was dead—that a now and deeper desolation than ho had yet known was upon him. As he gazed the nostrils slowly dilated, the thin lips parted, and those dark myste rious eves opened full-on-his. L he sea breeze, the murmur of the waves were not strange to her ; the moonlight coming in at the 'open this was natural; but-this.face with its passionate energy, this breast ngaiinst which she Whs field ko tightly, what dii it mean ? She wdulcl see what it meant ; so she made a strong effort and sat upright.— She had passed through a great agony, she had dreamed ’a 'short, sweet dream. ~lt wrfa over now, and she Ynust go hack to her self sustenance. In a moment of..mutivahsilence, she cnllcd'up her old,habit'of calmness, and said, as firmly as her Weakness would permit her, 'tfy . .. • I We feared yah w.e'PadjoWnod/ »« . ‘lkncwyph Would, and harried home on that accoofrt/ ... _ 4 Tho servants' fiVo horror-stricken ; but,- thank.lloavcn 1 Pet.is spated what I feared shc"muet know soon/ • *. Flynn’—the pale face 'feo that the moonlight would not strike it so broadly— -4 did any one else grieve for me ?’. „ She trembled visibly* and tried to say something verging close on propriety. 4 Spate me this Flynn/ ho said, pleading ly. 4 Come down fronrthis distance at which •I have viewed you, and toll mo for once what I ask/ . w / How. far would you have rife conic V Rlie asked significance that he. under* at otice. n • . * Not beyond, the borders of female delica cy.;. I Tqpgot. in the intensity of the moment that I Kaa.nib|i rriot you there with a broad avowal of my lotfe—love s’fffch as men seldom’ give to'women, Flynn/ . She looked at hirn/as if to comprehend his meaning, and skid, rriuslAgly. ‘ 1 have wan dered so.long I a ih logt now/ ‘Conic homo, Flynn/, he Skid,-reaching but his'nrms to her. Lay yriur Jieafl -.where; it lay helplessly’ a moment tffiWe. trust mo.— Bo mine. - .»■ ' Her head drooled 'ivhei J 6 ft \Va's to rest henceforth. ' ‘Tell mo why you knelt here like one dead/ < ‘Fur you/. •'Skid she shivering, ‘1 thought you were dead/ •. * Then you loved me?* ‘Oh, Lisle]' The fervor, of likr Vrordfc thrilled through his souk ’ ‘ How 1 long has this been, Flynn !’ , ‘ * Since I came hero as your sister's gover ness/- He started suddenly. , 1 Before Fanny V - 1 Yes/ said' a Voice tinged with long born sorrow. Flynn, Flynn, you hav.c suffered I' She .smiled a smile borne of deep,' soul struggles. * It has not been in vain/ The mask'frk'fc all off now. Lisle Mercur saw the loving, purified character shining through the face Imheld’ to his lips. ‘You shall suffer no more alone, darling/’ ■ • « * n Avoid Deception l . —Persona who practice' deceit and artifice always deceive themselves more than they deceive others.; They may feel great complkcenoy in view of the success of'their doings ; but they are in Veallty cast ing a midst before their own eyes. Such persons not only make a false estimate of their own character, but they estimate false ly the opinion and conduct of others. No p'brson is obliged to tell all he thinkfc ; but both duty and self interest forbid him ever to make false pretences. '0“ When Gen. EafAyette \Vlts in the ftri ted States, t\yo young men were introduced to liiri). He said to ono : ‘ Are you married •?’ g. ‘ Yes sir,’ was the reply. ‘ Happy-mnn,’ qpotl) the..'G,enernl. lie put the same question to the other, who Replied : ‘lam a bachelor.’ , ’ ■ Uiilueky dng,’ said the.Gonerftl. '.This is the best essay on matrimony ex tant. Ak editor out West gives the following notice:—‘Our pqrs'6 is lost 1 The findeV is requested to return it, being careful not to disturb its contents, which wore a brass rule, a piece of leaf tobacco nicely twisted, the stump.,of a cigar, and a very goO'd leather string-.' ’ ‘I am glad this coffee don’t owe me any thing,’ said Brown, a boarder, at the break fast table. . * Why.?’ said Smith. * Because,’ said Brown, ‘ I dohlt believe it would ever settle 1’ A 80-T.ruoft.—A newsboy rushed into a retail store on Hanover,street, the'other day, and thus accosted the proprietor; h‘ Say, Mister, do Voir retail shirts liefed’ ‘ Yes, niy iuti; we have them to fit you at one dollar each—very nice ones.’ ‘Oh, blazes 1 1 don’t jvant’ a whole one.— But I seed on your sign : 'Shirts retail and wholesale, and I thought you .might re-tail miqe, for it, wants it bad ; a dog got hold of it, Slid wouldn’t let go if I’d kill’d liim.’ As exchange comes to us with a notice that ‘ Truth.’.ie,,crowded out of this issue:— This is almost.as bad ns the country editor who said, ‘ For the evil effects of intoxicating drink see our inside.’ AST" Graiiy as George the Third was said to have been, there was evidently a nicthod in his madness at times. Speaking to Arch- Bishop Sutton of his large family, lie used tile expression, ‘ I believe your grace has hot ter than a dozen?? ‘No, sire,’ replied the Areh-Bishop, ‘ only eleven.’ ‘ Well,’rejoin ed the King, ‘is not that bettor than a doz en ?’ JUS?* A schoolboy down East, who was no ted among his play-fellows for his- frolics with the girls, was rending aloud in. the Old Teattlmbnt, when, coming to the phrase ‘ma king waste places glad,' ho was asked what it meant. The youngster paused—scratched his head—but gave no answer, when up jumped a more precocious urchin and cried out; ‘I know ■ what it moans, otastor. It moans hugging the gals ; for Tolii Ross is al lershuggini—tom-nround—thi-itflisV-ondit makes ’em glad ns can be;’ Bather unexpected was tlioreply of the urchin who, on being arraigned for flaying marbles on Sunday, and sternly .asked, ‘ Do you know whore those little boys go who play marbles on Sunday?’ replied innocently— ‘Yes j somg of ’eiil goes down bj thd side of the river. 1 BS$~ A .worn ah .is not fit to have a baby wh.d dpfesn’t know how to hph} it; and this is as if tie of a tongue as of a baby.- O’* Speak no evil of tlithdoad or of £hd ab sent. ,O* One • dunce of discretion is worth a pound' of wit. THE BBABD. Nature has supplied the most-of- mankind wi ill beards, and in very ancient times, the use of.a razor upon it-wias unknown. In Greece, the first instance of staying occurred in the reign of Alexah'dor tfio Groat.- -This warrior-ordered the Macedonians to be 6hay ed lest the beards of-hisisoldiers should ■ aff ord handles to their enemies. The sarcastic Diogenes; when he once saw someone whose chin, whs smooth, said : 'I am afraid- you think yon have {treat ground to accuse na ture for halving made - you a inan n’nd not a woman/ ■■ In Cicero's time til’d genuine beard was. not Worn in society' But the harbula (pontce)'.scoins.tu -have been affeoteti by the young lininan “ swells." ■ -The heard -.began to revive again in. 'ti/h ■ time- of the-Emperor vHadrinn.n-.But of all the emperors who wore that ornament, in one creates soimucb interest in posteHty-aS tho 'G'mp'oroivJulinA.ilia, beard is the most fa* tnoua.b'chWl in iiistory.i Speaking of it, be says: - " I commence, with my countenance. Tt-lmd nothing regular, or partieulaidv agree.- able abo'hli'it't.nnd.oat-of hu,lnor anil whims!* ’ dnlilv, and just to punish it for not being handsome, 1 have made it ugly by carrying this long and peopled beard.’• ■-. The Brittons, like the ancitfit Gauls, al- . lowed the hair to grow thick on tho' hend'; and, although they shaved their beards close on the chin, wftro, immense tangled mousta-. cliea, wliioh sometimes reached their breasts. It may bo presumed that the northern na tions fqlt the symbolic force of those kppen dugesi- we have a well, known passage in I'acitus* about the Catti, who says, made K general custom of’what," among other Gor man people was an affair of private daring-h the ‘letting.tho 1 cripeiu. harbaraquo/ grow till they 7 had killed an enemy. Thb Normans,* when they conquered England/well shaven, on. the back of the head Won the face ; but the Saxons wore full beards! * la Edward, ll.'s- roign,vboarda were Worn apparently by persons in years, groat officers of State, and.knights’, templars, but not gen erally. • -Sip. John Mandevillo, tho travelog who died A.'D. 1372, was- called Sir John with the Board (persumnbly. from its In Edward 111/s.tiiiic—th'Qdiey*day of chivr airy, of feudal ornament, of love poetry, of heraldry—long beard and fine mustache wore .In. honorable estinriirttoV- In Richard 11/a reign, tho fashion continued;: Thte jiteard was '.forked/ and in all knightly effiges thq mustaclio is long and drooping ori 'ekch side of the mouth. ’ ».., v .. « A sober and well governed gentleman of Elizabeth's time, regulated his begrd as, he did his dress, mind, manners or conduct. It was an index-of his status or profession ; ai* emblem of his fedlinga and .tastesn-a-symbol to ho respected like ,his coat of arms, Tho Reformer, John Knox, cherished a large-and profuse one, obviously .from its patriarchal character, from . the honor shown it in tho Jewish days, from whose wmtiment ho drew his inspiration-.,.- IMVc’scholar. RiVch as George Buchanan, wore it—sometimes as one who followed Kimx and Calvin. . .. •; ( ; The hair, hs we nil know, played an-imf pbrtnnt symbolic /part' in the civil wars of England ; and the same rigor which the Pu ritan on thg. head he exercised .On his chin, and trimmed his beard as closely as he trimmed hlsl looks. The Vandyke beard is the typipal . one of this period. T-y Peaked beards jand fiViiitaches-wore .populat among th’6 'cavaliers ; and were at least pret ty Jgeiiefnlly wo«W ~ . co Beards went out of fashion for more than two hundred years, among the Anglo Sax ons of Europe apd , America-; but they havd been,'..Varied again, and are now cultivated and defended upon scientific considerations. The: mustache is approved hecauSQ.Ht 5b said to be a.natural, respirator.;,a.idefenao to the lungs against the inhalation- of dust, and the heard is defended ns a protection for the throafagairist cold. It has been recommen ded that all preachers who are subject to throat diseases should allow their, beards to grow. Travelers; in sandy regions, -millers; bakers and all mechanics should allow the beard free,play. - ICT" Tlib system of- employing stiliSHt'jtob was practiced to a certain extent in iiieffevo lutionary war. Mr Elijali Gaylord, now or very recently a resident of New .York-tiiiyj and,nearly' one hundred years old, .engaged ns a substitute during the wn. of indhjSeiv. dene at Hartford, .Conn., where he was bor’ti, in consideration of a cow, ivsiVitAMe,outfit of, clothing, ono blanket, a few farming utensil's and twelve bushels of wheat per month. C7* A few, days since a gentleman, .being beyond the limits of his neighborhood, asked a negro if the r-nd he was traveling led to It certain plagoi.t Cuffee'gAvh the required in* formation, but Boomed curious to know who the stranger was, as well us his occupation. Eor the fun of the thing the traveler conoid defl id Humor Ebony a little, and the follow inpdialogue ensued.: , ■ ' ‘ My name n ——■, and as, to .the business. I follow, if you are at ell smart you ontl gueea that from my appearance. Can’t you sen that lam a timber cutter?’ . * * No, boss, you no timber cutter.’ ‘ An overseer, then ?’ • No, sir, you no look like one.’ ’ ‘ What say you to mybeing a doctor ?’ . : ‘Don’t thiiik Bui boss-Vdey don’t ride in £ siilkey.’ ,i, i -■ ’ ■ ~ . ‘ Well how do you think I would dp for a preacher ?’’ ‘I sorter sppos yon.is.dat sir/. ’ i ‘ Pshaw, Cuffee, you are a greater fool.th/ui- I took you for. Don’t I look more like a law yer than anything else ?’ . . ‘ No sires, Bob;yoii don’t, dat:’ ‘Why Cuffee?’ ‘ ’ ‘Why, now you,see boss, T’s. been ridin’, wid.you for more’n a mile, an’ you hain’t cussed an’ a lawyer always missed:'. O” The last dodge of thooonscrijlt dosett ers is to don d Confederate unifnim and come, into .camp asdeserters. They are then sent to Wnsbingtoti take the oath of allegiance add are forwarded to the North. Seven, were caught at this game last week. A Little girl who had often contemplated the very aged appearance of her grandmdth or of more than'eighty-Jdttrs,-her face wrin kled and time worn, ran up to her one -day. < and asked, ‘ Grandmother, Were you alive when God made the world?’ ' !T7~ Among Uio'addfosHcsi- presented upon the accession of James In-was one from the. ancient town of Shrewsbury, wishing his majesty might rdiii its long as the sun,moon.- an(j stars endured, * Eaith,-men,* said the Kingdo-the. person who presented it, 4 my son then must reign by candle light.’ [C7-AU faults are pardonable when One has the oonntge to pvow them. ' ICT" Haslji ryorde are soon repented; # i , -i NO. 84.