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-need not tell you
only ’ n is of no value, ft is
j I ‘ho representative of-value. Why then
you all() W ;t tp remain idle ?’,
f.nmi w elB ° should I employ it t I have a
orhublo house well Burnished—should I
We l| Jlaao pne more expensive? My table is
Iy ? l 1 ] J'i >, 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' n<ißB '>y 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.