—■■■’ ■■ ■ ■-■ ■ ' - ''' " r ; •--. ' =—■■—-.--'-'■■■7-':r ■■" ■:.: ■ : |fe VOL. 52. :-.jSgk—= poetical. ■/ yv -k ' ■ i r f^io.';. *' >?,‘ •»* , v ?f F'h k *~'~ri —t ~~ ',< [FROM THE PHILADELPHIA AQE.J jg; s Cold blows tbo wind , the Heavens are gray fj ireo-tops bow before the blast , \Back, downward to the boarded past , ivTho day—like ages—tadea away. ' 1 bear the winds and what they said.! • .‘"''And nil the winds of autumn speak ‘ 1A dirge te me, an.d seem to wreak Bspccial sadness on ray head. Bat sadder than tbe'soi’.nila.ihey tell ■ .■ , ./ -On common days, is opuihut,floats . "Around me now, with poignant notes, ■ v -That grieves mo with a laroweil. ' I hear it sighing through the A.r, Vr : r * I hear it when the shadows lull, ' .sp Alone. I hear it most o( all, , ' <And at the dead of night ’tis there. bear it when the mornings shine,,,.. i’arowell! farewell!” nor o’ar deceives 'I , ' I hear it among the fallen loaves ~ , . ‘ .That knew her footsteps linked with mine. ■: '■fji?sl ; hear it when I dare to dream ~ . Through any path that wo have trim, I hear it in the emerald sod, i ,i | < .£4'A l >d > n th<) immemorial stream. it when the night distils , . , . '&SS& Her patient cup for flowers and fruits ; ■ hear it in the gnarled tree-roots, ‘ t-’And in the autumn burnished hills. V"S«!» *f&X boar it in the landscape round, , The green below, tlio bluo allovo ; .i,Jf I hear it ns the voice ol love y i‘ rfhat murmurs from the bellow ground. ’ 'X bear it as my spirt prays ‘ - .. Stay, tarry yet with me, nor go I ‘ ’Twill sling the tendereat nerves of woo !” .■ Adieu I adieu I” is ail it saya. Ilbear it in the daya to be, ~ , i ji, 1 ,. ,r Born backward on a monrpful wind— . ' ‘C,; Through all the days that droop behind ln the all-in-all I see. ' , \b’^ uch P arti "K mak6 the h f* rt B row old, ’ And mine, , alas, is one of these i And I am left tike autumn,lreep t- leaves have dropt and left thein cold. - -W 'wJ-WYet am I not ungrateful potv, . ~ , • Nur thankless for the days that wore; Vg And for the (more, I will bear ':\~y Whatever is lo come. *But 1/iou— drops oT music—peace of dove— \sp| The sweet events that form the hours t Thy life a lengthened chain of flowers, every breath a lint of "love ! ‘ Jdmna SttlKtllniMM. : 4||ts' THE LAST PROIBiBR \ CHAPTER I. l- Leoni Do Forrest was a Wild, gay and >4/ iy r o o«U ear t e d youth. Ilia father died when was Imta’chilrt, and on him was lavised the love that bis mother could bestow. jr ßclrig an only child, be was sent to the ' schools, and when he had arrived at 'the age el . eighteen, a more talented ’y: man could not well be found. His finally concluded to leaV'* her homo " l ho cojiuVry, and go to NW-‘ York, .■ : a'be Ybought Leoni could get a situ* in Dpine,wholesale store, and be ah\e ■ r oarn ,ft 6°°'d, giving As soon as they got settled, in their, new Lephi..procured a situation in a ; c in Wil\iat|b fifteet, ( and commenced - course in life., alter he had there only. a. tow months, and hud " his employer’s confidence an,d.trust ,>.; J Binliil companions induced him-, tp. drink— ’ vfo tasttf the pmsonous. Jiqui.d, Rvih y whose ''-witherlug. damning blight flip ..curbed the ' - I happiest homes, ■.darkened* the - and cesolutid the.'toodoot hearts, -wl lost liis situation. ahd. a while \-V • ohiained another. He lost this, a/50 Vi; G r till time he tried# and again ..kind lor tune favored him. His mother gave hjm and pious council, >w.ept n for Jiiin, ' 1 for him, and told hitin, with tear , eyes and ’fatal ruin - , *£hat awaited hitd if lie did hot reform, *Hi i t «. 'promised her he would jpjd ,he mean it? ' He fell again. Hflyihg.loBt,)ii^ ; goofl name * " " young heart sickened within him, and , - 1 naught but words, such as ** He’ll never be ll anything but a poor loafer! He’ll die in ! . 'thu gutter yet I’’ from lips that abould have spoken kind words of encouragement. Ho ]gave up Hope, and, joined in a “ band of ft JDiQßtrels,” he left his home to travel, west and aonth. He was absent several years . . during bis travels be did not forget his ' . v : Pg«d mother—that aged who. never - forsakeß an erring and ainl'ul child, though ' ‘others may. despise* , . , : , , '•!* , Leoniaat lastcajnq bp&e again. He or ; gamzed a band jh i,ho cjty , and night after 'V i lhe etraina of sweet music-and t(io .enchanting harmony of their voices awoke ‘kuauy slumbering mrtidon’from her dreams, v to'seek the moonlight lattice, and listen to : Love’s -Serenade.” • m I. • • * j ! ) Two maidens wore seated: side by - side; -jA’ one bl'igh.t apmmer evening—aide by side, bear ah.qheb Wind,pw, gaiing out in the air lence and tfaijiuty 9/ r the .night. Fair and VV*®K young they bjolji Were. One had al|' the spirit and brightness in hoi- nature that t.hp maidens of sunny Spain .can hoast' Ql; ' M brightness lingered ’mid hay. long , blaclt SS tresses; brigbtneas.and beauty tinged, ijor aw * lo * l warm obeek, poiited on t|ie red. lipji, and reposed on her calm and spotless Brow. Music was her voice, aqd her spirit gaaed %SM out from tbo dreamy depths of her. dark ■’tfS' °yeS- She was Adeie Danvers. She was ■ 'mm an orphan. Rosa Clyde,, her companion, yogs wa * exactly the reverse of her. Rosa had ' '"l® bright anburn hair, a fair complexion, blue ■: ■ vfXljl eyes, and, unlike her friend, possessed a mß®! calm, qniet heart that never throbbed tn mutinously with passion or with joy, bnt ia **lSr lay alleot and calm in her innocent bosom, *'"* waiting, as it were, till the.aephyra ot Lpv.e Were watted oyer it to wake its changeless pulses into life.: ; Did you know Leo 3)e Forrest had re turned from the west > at last inquired ..Rosa.. ~, . .Her companion Blasted, and the rich blood crimsoned her cbi eks. ■ No! When did bo arrive 7 When did you hear.so? Kate Willis was here Ibis morning,, while you were out, and she told me that she met him standing on the. steps of his hnble’a house. Shu said he .bowed, .end came down to meet her—then he inquired how all tho.girls were, and sail} he intended to give them ail a, serenade, and let them know he had. coma home.. ’ Rowrlid he look? Did ahe say. 7 : Oh, a great deal darker and older He’s got a mustache now, so thick and black that he looks fierce; and his hair is very long.and.hangs in curls down bis shoulders. :„. B .ba say how he was dressed. Rosa 7 ■; ■'VlUhopvoibptly auenaod to.‘: -ya- 'l utJi ’ 1 ■ 1 ' a _i.j 'K-aWk :WM 3M plaid—coat, v«Ht and paota all alike—and a pair of “ patent leathers, f ’ and a—lopg gold chain qrqqpd.Jiia’ neck and a •‘Kos suth hat';”, end-then be carried a cane too. That’s all, ! beljeve. « I Would like to see him, wouldn’t you Kpsa f . 1> Yea, I would, I wonder if ho drinks as 'much,a3 H.m did botore.be wept away 7lf lie h'adn’tthat one fault, wouldn’t be be a noble fellow 7 Bo you think so, Rosa 7 You used to run him down iu every, way- Do you .know Rosa, 1 think if he only would fall in love with some real good girl, she might in time persuade him to do, right?—rto leave olfbia wandering life apd settle him ‘sell in some steady business? T think I could doit? It can never bo done,. Adelef Yda might lr> but you would only ruin your happiness forever ! Never —never think of loving him, unless you would become a drunkard’s wile ! You know aot't|ie powjurof woman’s lovo Hoaa Cl,yde. Many a man might have been saved from, tho drunkard’s grave if bis borne had been made happy—many a roan 1 And any one like Leo De Forrest—so iqo hlo, so kind, possessed of his knowledge ahd pride-can be .wop to do aright. 1 wish; !'only had the chance to show what I could dp. I wouldjiot do it in a day, or a !week,‘ butijin time., I’d make his little home-A place where .love and kindness ald.iie bhoiilfl dtfell, I’d meet him always with a smile 'and p kind word, and when I’d only got him to stay at home one eve* oing, I’d rouse bib ,slumbering ptide, I’d awake again his olden.arpbition and point him to a glorjous future and picture to his mind a brilliant destiny. tell him a noble name awaited him in the end 1 1 Oh, I known be would apuru the .the- ‘false., friehds around him, cast them off, and Anally rice high above them all 1 „ As Adelo Danvers ..uttered these lust words, sho- seemed us if inspired. A strange, wild light shown from her eyes, causing. her companion to guze upon her with mingled admiration and wonder.. • Rosa Clyde at length smiled, and gazing carelessly out of ,11)6 window, said : „, I would not iik? to risk my happiness for sake.qf the triaj, anyway. However, you may.Jbavo an opportunity one of these days perhaps, to try tfto strength of your Ipvo on your rutfO —that is, if he stays long enough fn.the city., . I shall not shrink from it, If ever it so happens, Rosa. , .. . .There,, jwss. pnpt,hfc'r silence. . Neither wished to renew the conversation, and thus they sat side .by aide, gazing out into the ptiJl night, their t thoughts wandering in widely different spheres. , CHAPTER 11. Suddenly 'Rosa Clyde, drew back from the window and whispered to her compan ion : They are comiijg!. . . *• ~ The note a of a guitar came tinkling .awoetlv on the air, and the two girls drew together the blinds and awaited the seren ade. The drop toned bell from the told tbe midnight hour, and. a* the fast stroke died away, the gato that admitted info tbe yard was opened nolalewaly, and one l>y one eight dark figures stole in p.pd ranged thomsolvoa beneath the window's. Suddenly there stole on the air a wild and thrilling gush of the sweetest instrumental harmony; it raised and fell, swelled out long and shrill, and then died away fainter and softer, until it sounded as though it were far away in the distance ; then at last while tbe listeners had almost hushed, the beatings of their enraptured hearts it burs! forth once more in a startling flourish of roliun grandeur-, and died away like the mournful wall of tbe wind on the rippling sea. Ob, how sweet! how beautiful ezclaitn both girls at afiee. The 'overture vyaa ended. Then came a glee, sung by lair fine voices. A figure now stepped out into the moonlight, , and running his-fingers over tbo strings of his guitar, sang in a rich tenor voice the fol lowing BONO. Slumber hot. lady, slumber not long Light on tne air floats the wanderer’s song; For I've been roaming o’er land and o’er ; oea, Faithful I come once more nnto thee. Never again will I pari from thy side, Gently I’ll whisper, “ Wilt thou be my bride?” Slumber not, lady, slumber not long, Awake love and list to tbe wanderer’s song. Friends have proved false nnto me, lady fair Time hap,.overwhelmed me with sorrows jmdfcaije,. Oft have in sickness and pain Thinking my. hppie.L would ne’er see again, Now I’ve 'returned. Jady .fair .from alar— ’Twas thy omile.dhat did guide, like a \\ beautiful, gtar; ; Wilt thou b'a my bride, gentle lady, are iQIlg,.-, ~ - . . And bid me no more ainjg the.wanderer's song 7 C- . J..J . 1 11, *,s: . The serenade was .ended, and one by one those dusky forma glided silently away. •As Leoni Do .Forrest turned to *> follow bis companions..something fell In the grass at his fept. Be raised it in his hand—it wiia p hpuquot of choice flowers.:. Be glanced Upward,.,aijd caught one glimpse of a fair hand beird the sweet, wo.rrt, : GoDd-nighJ. And then turned and departed with a glad beajt. . . ■ ; ‘ . , After serenading a few more, places, Leoni bade his companions Good nighty (by the wayj it was morning)—and sought his bumble homo, flis mother had not yet retired. The youth opened the door and entered., . , T - ... ■ ' t > _ j.'jWhy doyoij sit up so late,, upttior? he ashed, as be kissed her affectionately. . . I was ; waiting lor you my sop, nod the fond .patent smiled, lor heart was glad. Why? ..... : > J Because-her boy was not intoxicated. Because. Reason beamed from those dark eyes. Because bis form was upright, and bis step manly. Because, in short, his man hood was. pot debased, for.ho stood-befope her as she prayed to see him—in the imago of His Maker-rGodl - Then they prayed together, and retired, to rejit. , , « 4 The young man’s dreams were pleasant that night, and that fond mother’s repose was calm and untroubled. Love and Hope had both begun their good work—Love. In the bosom uf the wanderipg boy. and llopn in the breast of that kind and indulgent mother. v The next evebin£, Leoni started out to meet some of his companions. Be came to a halt, on a corner, in one ot the princi pal thoroughfares and leaning against a tree, stood gazing at the busy throng pass ing to and fr.o before him. • :• He had Stood the/e, but a few moments, ere a familiar voice appeared In the throng. He it be Mis# Danvers? He looked again *twas ‘her l inn moment- he was b) her aide, and her hand was clasped in bis. She was glad to see him. She in quired a few things concerning bis travels, and after a few compliments on both sides, she passed on. Leoni stood And watched her retreating figure,'Until it disappeared from view, then ho gave a long sigh, and ;riuiuittiOi4 pul pVcdm* vq * i££b? 5Vr v/lx": j v* u OUR COUNTRY—MAY IT ALWAYS BE RIGHT—BUT RIGHT OR WRONG OUR COUNTRY." Some twenty minutes had elapsed, and no familiar countenances passed before him. He thought he would stroll farther down the avenue, when lo I there came that fairy lorm again !—Miaa Danvers was com ing back. She was walking rapjdjy, for ft was nearly nine o'clock.. She smiled as she passed by. but did not pfjuse.. Lqoni knew that she was going home—he wished to speak a lew words to her., What hotter op portunity wqpld ho have than tty,o present .pnec?.j ’Ho hraitatecl a moment, and at last startQdftiftcr.her. k few hasty strides, and he was .by her side. . , Arei!yo.u bn yoiir way homq, Misa Dan vers ? hp inquired.-* . , *.•»•. The maiden smiled* walked a little slow er, and yeplied, Ves, sir. : .Shall I accompany you ? . * . i , If you please I but 1 have only a few blocks to go. Side,,by side they walked on.and iu a short time they were engaged, fa earnest convuravtion. Lupin told .the I’tiir- girl of many prices he hud visited while ho wua t kway ; spoke of his troubles and disappoint ’ments, hs well as of the sucQessoa be had met with, as though'she were his sister. In fact, his nature.,- He bad no broth er or sister of his own, npd she seemed like somr near find dear friend to whoito he. could relate all his, lyials and misfortunes,.and in wbpth he could' trust. So be talked, on, and she ‘.listened, always manifesting the 'same livol» interest in everything he said, .while at times spme.'kind word of advice or encouragement fell softly frgiJn her lips, causing bis wild and boyish heart to throb with gentle and'pleasurably emotions. At length they arrived.at the gate, ore Leoni w as hardly aware thqj ..had, .come so far Hero they paused a momenteach thinking there wuia something .'more that slionld be said, but each not knowing what they should say. ? Won’t you corho lo t at length inquired the maiden. No I believe not, to night. Uis rather Ute,now. But you will call and see iis soon, will you po.t? I:sha(l, Adele; for my friends are so few in Dumber—that is, my true friends —that I know hoW; tp prize ope when wo meet. jW A Tew tliure w orda woroAuterchanged be tween them, and then they parted. . Looni’s heart was light, as he bent |»is steps toward his home. If seemed to him as though he bad been (ravelling alorm-tfirough some si lent and gloomy wood-,:wbwto all was dark ness,.and-loneliness* He"h«d met with no friend to point him the road to .the sunny glades, the bright sunshine, and tjio ,bloom ing flowers, until.at last, when,.-Hope had fled, and Despair had almost clutched' him in her bpby grasp, an angel form appeared, and ; while bo. gathered , new strength, the sunshine burst in upon , him, the darkness fltjtw away, and sparkling streams ran danc ing through the. fairest -glades of beauty, while syren song birds chanted in bis ears the wild entrancing mclml> of Lovo. Such is.the dfeam of youthful hearts when first they feel kove’a power. CUAI'TIiE 111 Leoni De Forrest diet not forget his prom ise to call on his yonng friend. Tbe follow ing Sabbath he was there in the evening, pnd omj other evening during.tbo »utne week. .Time passed .on,and, Ufa. Visits at length became reg.ular until Dapiiej Rumor (old Mother Go«*ip—told wenjbmfy ibatthey were engaged. they wow right. Who knows/ Il«4 -Limoni De Forrest be come steady ? . jßumor entf Uqbslp said that hp bad not. Interested friends began,to ut ter ominous prophecies concerning, the fu ture late of this iniipcent. >.pnng couple. Old maids ad crusty bachelors .all bid something, to. predict. Some thought the poor fellow would live about two years; ana then die in the streets, while the wife would of course go-to the County House. Others imagined and supposed that the young man would go off* with the Minstrels again, af|e> he had become sick of the state. A few morq (Uptight, this, and afew more thought that, while a certain class thought a vast ..deal about everything, but didn’t exactly like to say anything Advice, that wondrous thing which we can always get so cheap, was given to the maiden from all quarters. “ Don’t marry him!” come tp her ears from.everybody’s lips, and in the midst of it all, the young lovers walked out one bright evening, and were married. What a pity ! exclaimed one to another. ' What a pity, she bis married hiin! But in a short found a situa tion and wept to Work., .young wjfo tried to encourage hini in every way, and for a while, things went on comfortably enough. But the young husband’s salary was small scarcely sufficient for them to live upon, and he became disheartened when bo saw no prospect of Advancement. Again bo bod recourse to that vile draught that often before had .blighted bis moat brilliant pros peels of success in life. Ho was discharged. When b« came home and saw the pale, sad ac.e of his young bride, conscience smote , bim and be sat down and wept long and bit terly, ; Adelo threw her arms around his neck and pado.,him cheer up and try again. She pointed out to him tpje' course ho should pursue, apd tojd bini though .all the world forsook cling unto Bim and share with him hi# f ate, jwbaiover. that fate might Uo..:She .spoke of a‘future glo rious and bright.fer him,and told him set bo-would win a'good and:- noble’,nanpe:if ho would abandon his ; worldly, pleasures and touch not I ho- I jpoispopus .bowdl.tj.She .said she was willing to toil to help him qn,until he obtalnoda belter. paiary,jftnd.endure i\\ the little deprivations that lor a.time be would bo subjected tp, .She,.,would not complain, but, «h, she prayed for him to, re form. and be a man among men. The young husband promised he would, and she was honpy. •; i • . ■ ; j Header, Leoni De Forrest did not keep that promise. Hp. went out day after day and sought for; employment. He went to his friends./; They would not aid him be cause he had drank. .He went to strangers. They did not want him~th9.y had hoard his name before. .Be, told, jihem it* they would give bjm N empi.oyinont,be.,would do right— he almost, begged work for,the sake of 4iia wife and.little bpbo.. The answer, was, No. We do dot want any assistance at present. And these were Wonl Men hern in a Christian land I Men who pretended to be 'CbriKtia.ua themselves! human Ininga! Spine of them feinted hy ties pi blood to him who asked them not for money, b'* ask ed theta not for did*. He. only asked for work lliyd ho might earn inoney to purchase the loved ones .bread. God in his own time will judge them. ; Heart sick, weary—almost hopeless, the young man walked toward home, lost in. a dream of 'mournful; bitterness*. Ho had tried harder on that day than on any of the proceeding-ones, although he was almost, afraid at times to enter the large stoies, for tear someone would treat him with-cold* % dess, lor bo still-possessed a small*.'remnant df pride amid his’poverty and He had got about half way home, when ho met one of his old companions. Hallo! Leo, where- are you bound for? Inquired Jack Tracy. You look as if you bad lost all your friends. v I believe I have Jack, for I have been all over New York trying to find a alt nation, »*UVU wuyiyJLw fQ , CARLISLE, PA.. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1865. and I am altogether discouraged, for I find it-impussiblu to get anything to db. Yes; I suppose icla.c But,why don’t you go on the stage again ? 4 I call get you u good engagement to. travel, if you want to go. I’ve got one myself, and all we want is a good tenor, to make our company com plete. Will you take au engagement, Leo 7 ».•?»’ *. I cannot;, on account of my wife and child. Besides, I’Ve loft the business alto* gelher... , Oh, that’s it. Well, let’s go and takoa drink before wo part company, any way, .Moybo we’ll not meet again very soon. Oume along. Leo hesitated* Then the Tempter whis pered in bis oar,—one glass will do you gnyd., Bo followed his companion in. Glass af ter giubs they drank, and when they parted, the young husband was intoxicated. Ho vent directly borne, but his step wa«‘ un steady, his eyes languid and dull, while a simple Ijer disfigured his features. He .staggered into the Hall, and fumbled to find the door knob, making considerable noise. ; Adle opened (be door, but started back when she saw .her husband,; She said nothing,to him whatever, but assisted him to.,puli off his boots, and helped hint tp the bed, bn which ho fell, heavilyh Soon.! ha fell into a sleep. The young wife looked at the supper, all untouched,,upon the table; then, clasi ing her innocent babe'closer to her breast, she sat down by the? bed side, and wept bitterly., i . i T i he :wonduring .infant looked up in its mother’s, face* and smiled* while ttie shadows o night deepened, and the twinkling stars came forth in- beauty bright. Thu. evening breeze sighed mourn fully ; the cricket chirped .its sad notes; the clock ticked regular and monotonous, and the young wife, kneeling in (hat calm hour, prayed for her eiring hueb nd unto God. Her husband, and the father, lay slumber ing, tmcoDMious of what was passing around ,him, dreaming not of a wife’s loneliness, her misery, or her.tears, , >«. : ..Oh„ lonian! many are the -trials' tbpn hast to jiindurgo-T-,trials the world knows not of! And thou, dread terror—Rum! thy poisonous power blasts many a happy beaYt, and sirewa.the ashes of desolation over the fairest gardens of blooming affection I . When Leoni awoke the next morning, bo experienced a deep fueling' of -shame — •shame, with a crimsoned blush,;:t|nged bU ebook, when be.came into the rboih where bis young wife had breakfast alt prepared for him. He looked toward the stove, and there a nice plate,of,buttered toast and a cup of tea was waiting for him. He sat down at the table, after.he bad bathed his flushed face ,and bqrbing brow; and Adlo placed the fmornimg raoai before him, in* qniring, kindly at the the same time— How do you feel this morning, Leo 7« * - 1 -The young man looked up at her. H6r forbearance and kindness touched f)io heart, if or an instant ho looked down.*. His man ly breast began to heave. A deep, long drawn sigh came heavily forth; his lip trem bled, whi.e bitter tears gushed forth front bis eyes, and trickled.slowly, one after an other. down his cheeks. He could not cat, lor, the fountain pf. affection had been ten derly touched, and its waters were troubled* After,his anguish and remorse bud subsided, he requested Adie tjoborae and «it beside him. The young wife did as he desired .. I have made you a gr«ut many promises to .do right—have I not, Adle ? Yes. my dear husband, you have, Well, dearest, if I should make you one more, could you believe me 7 Yes, Leo* I .. God. Mesa you, ray own wife ! I will ‘prniiiiae.you, before God, Unit I will never Again Viiiso to roy lips thu cup that holds that poison which intoxicates and steals away,' ray reason ! , I willshun it in every Way,and strive to win good and noble pume imakq lhoa, hspP.v J God hears on I .yfhis is my lasl promise I. . 'There was a solemn .allenae in that little room r ..It Beamed as if the;Recordiug An gelof the *Mont High had decoded from above, and borne the glad tidings Mp,,to other worlds—A'soul is saved from de struction 1 > ,f, .. .. They »at,’v7ith:'thd!r,. arras around’ each other—their innocent babe between them— filled with now and;- better hopes. The darkness bad gone, and the light shone ;in upon them.—lt was the light from the burn ing beanie of an unseen world that pene trated the chanilc midnight of their ; aoula and bade them bo of: good .cheer. Theirs was a happy, heme. although it was poor.’ Friends smiled when the young wife told them her husband hud reforedraed. Som.e laughed and rediculed the idea—others said. Don’t you believe it till you see if. Not one breathed in her ear a solitary word of cod eolation, pr of hope. Still she..believpd ; hor husband-still ahfe strove to cheer him onward when others al most scorned him—still she clffr% to him when all the rest forsook him knowing well that his brilliant tajenjf and bis slumbering ambition, once fully, aroused Would carry him onward, and onward, up the craggy steeps of Fume’s high ragijjit,, until at U&t be could look far buck, far .downward on the path he bad trod, and side by side they could atand together. aa Jhe aclmir . ing world wove Fame’s green* wreaths of praise, she’d twine them round bis .Weary brow, and with him smile on those whom he hud .rifled jar above Theirs would;*bo* a glorious triumph—the victory of right and resolution over contemptous and sneering foes. . ... . '--I Leoni De Forrest found one friend. Hw did .not despise him because he had been |oolish,pr unfortunate, hut did according to the passage which some people ought tp have continually' before them ; . Do ye alijo unto others,as ye,.would that.others-shouid do unto you,And Lepni began anew Hjbl Ho rose higher and higher .in society f. his gained wealth and farae-r-and nooU are hap pier now than himself and his’faithful wife. Friends thronged arond thorn, oven those who had refused him aid -in his hour of peed. He welcomed all alike, yet sought not the friendship of any; living contended within the limits of his own happy fireside. Old maids and old bachelors bod grown old and more crusty,<Dame Rumor and Dame Gossip bad lost their teeth and wore wigs, but still their tongues h«a not rusted on thoir binges, and still they invented nu merous stories that never hurt anybody but themselves. Wo will leave them in their ■ happiness. }.* young men shun the intoxicating bowl Fly from it as you .would Irom the plague I It you have promised to reform time and again, and have repeatedly sinned, Don’t' give up the ship I Find a new channel in the oceanof Vile in which to sail—lake in a good cargo of firmness and resolutions and throw the rum over board—then spread your canvas of hope to catch the gate of fortune; stand linn at the holm, and yon will weather the Dereest gale, you will out ride the wildest storms, and anchor safely at last*in n peacelul.port, il yhn stand bold on your banner — The Last Pbouisk. tt?“At a church where there was a call for a minister, two candidates appeared whose names were Adam and Low. The latter preached an elegant discourse from tha text—“ Adam where art thou ?’ In the afternoon, Adatpfireaohed from those words, “ Lo,hete am l.t’ CHAPTER IV . THE WILL, , The old lady who related the outline of ithe following singular story, heard it told in her youth, by .no means as a fiction, but as a teal occurrence, j She eyen ohco knew the name of tho .nor thern family concerned in it; but that, with the exact dates; she has now forgotten, if she ever knew the latter, and. having never writ ten down the story..she had no means .of re covering .tbetiii.;.However, from her express mention of a tight wig, worn by tho benevo lent old heio of tho tale, we have fixed the strange occurrence not earlier than the last century..;,' ;r , the .end of a gusty October’ day, about the year 1830. a barrister of . the Tem ple was sitting reading, when .the opening of the door, and the servant's announcement of ‘ gontlement,’ interrupted him. Hot r°sa to receive his visitor, who proved to be,a perfect stranger, i. -person of very gentlemanly, but extremely old-fashioned appearance. He was dressed in a grave colored suit, of antique out; a neat, tight, gray wig, surrounded his serious, and oven solemn physiognomy ; silk stockings, rolled at the knee ; enormous shoo buoklos of; gold ; a cane, headed with the same metal, and a bruad-bnmmcd and un cocked hat, completed bin equipment, which was in fashion of the. last three years of the Third, or tho first of his succes sor. Haring stiffly'bowed,, in the exact way Dreacgibed by the.e tiquotte of tho era to which he seemed to belong, bo look .possession.of the chair offered to him by his bust; and, af ter a preparatory hem, thus began in a slow and ‘ I think, sir.you are the lawyer .employed by the S-- family, whose property in Yorkshire,, you aro, therefore, aware, la about to be sold.’ * I ..have, sir,' answered the barrister, 4 full instructions and powers to complete the dis posal of it, which, though a painful duty to m0,.-must be performed/ ;/. • i* It is a duty you may dispense >pth/ said the visitor, waving his hand ; ‘the property need not bo sold/., 4 May I presume to ask, sir, whether you are any relation *o the family? If, so,.you must, ho acquainted with the absolute neCe?: sity of selling it, in consequence of the claim of another branch of the family, just return ed from beyond sea, who, as heir-at-law,, is naturally possessor of the estate, in default of a will to the contrary, and who.desires its value in money, instead of the land. The present possessor is" unable to buy it, and must tjiefeforei.depart:' 4 You are mistaken/ replied the old.gen tleman, rather testily; you seem, not to know of the.will of Mr. S 's great grandfather, by which he not only left that, his real es tate, to his favorite grandson, this gentle-, man's father, but ; even entailed it on his great great great grandson.' , . ; ‘ Such a will, sir/..said the barrister, 1 was indeed, supposed »for many years to exist; and, in virtue of it, Mr.; S- has, until now, peaceably enjoyed the 'property ; but, on the claimant's application, *A, renewed .search having been madedfor sithpr the belief proves wholly unfounded,. or it has been lout or destroyed. Cabinets, chests, every room inhabited and uninhabited, have been ransacked in vain. . Mr. S has now given up all hope of finding it; the sale is to be completed in the course of next week ; and the fine old place must pass into the hands of strangers/ 4 . Y« u are mistaken once again, young rann/ said the stranger, striking his cane on the floor ;* I suy, sir, the will exists. Oo imme diately/ continued ho, in an authoritative tone ; * travel night und day. You may save an old family from disgrace and ruin. In the end room of the left wing, now uuhubit ed, is a closet in the wall.' * We haye looked there/ interrupted the barrister. • ‘Silet.ce, sir, there is a closet, I say. bi that closet is a largo chest; that chest has i false bottom, and underneath that is the deajd. I am certain of what I say ; J saw the.paper deposited there, no matter when or by whom. Go*-you will find it woith your trouble. My name, sir, is Hugh S ■■■■. 1, am not now personally known to the proprietor of S- Hall; bui.l &m his relation, and have his welfare at heart. Neglect not to follow my advice. .... So saying, the; old gentleman, rose, again bowed, and at the door put on fiis hat, in a fashion that would have enhanted an elegante of Queen Anne's day ;,mid sliding the silken string of his cane un thq little finger of his right.hand, -mr which,,tb'e lawyer had remar ked a very fine brilliant ring; { descended the stairs and departed, leaving the barris ter in the utmost astonishment.' At first he felt half inclined to consider, the whole as a hoax,; then, again,. when he thought of the old gentleman’s grave manner, and the inti mate knowledge he must have possessed of the house, to be able to describe the closet so exactly in which the chest was, he could not but believe him to be sincere. , „ At length, after much deliberation, : ho de cided upon immediate departureand ar ' rived on the evening of the fourth day. at S - Hall. Tho sale had been the only' theme of conversation at every place he had passed through within twenty miles of his destination.; and much and.loudly was it la piented, that the squire should'be leaving luo house forever, and that poor Mr. John would neverenjoy hist rights as., they persisted in ci\ili n .K tho possession of the estate. On the entrance into the mansion, ;signa of approach ing ronmynl everywhere met his eye. Pack ages»-filled the Hall, servants, with sorrowful countenances, were hurrying about, and the family were;lingering sadly over tho last din ner they warp ever to partake of in their old regretted home. Mr. S. greeted his friend with a surprise, which changed to incredulity, when the bar rister, nonnesting his private ear, declared the .renftm of bis appearance. ‘lt cannot bo.’ said he. 4 ls it likely that no one should ever have heard of the hiding of the deed but the old gentleman you men tion ? Depend upon it, you have beep ds* ceivod, my dear friend. lam only sorry you should have taken so much trouble to so lit tle purpose.’ '■ Tlie barrister mentioned the name of his visitor.. ‘ Hugh S !1 exqlairned the gentleman, laughing, ‘ I have hot iv relation in the world of that name.’ 4 It is worth the trying, however,’ said the, lawyer. ‘ ami wince I have come so lar, I will finish the adventure.’ .. . Mr. S ; seeing his friend so determined, at length consented to satisfy him, and ac companied him towards the apartmpn'tjie specified. As they crossed one of the rooms, in their way, he suddenly stopped before a large full length picture. 4 For heaven's sake.’ cried he,’ 4 who is this? 4 , 4 My granduncle,’ returned Mr. S , 4 a good old fellow as over lived. I wish with all my heart he was alive now; but ho has boen thirty years.’ ‘What ni his came V ‘ Hugh S , the uuly ouo ot the family of that name.’ ‘ That is the man who cnltod upon me. His dress,, his hat, his very ring are there.’ ; They proceeded ;to the closet, lifted tho false bottom of tho trunk, and—found the debd I > ; The kind old anolo was never again seen. ARTEBIUS W4RD’S AUTOBIOCBiPHL BT HIUBELF, Ntt York, niar Fifth Avenoo Hotel, ) ; Org Slot. J Dr. Sir; —Yrs, into wiob you ask mo to send you leadin incidents of my lifo so you can write iny bpgrfy fo,r.,th.e papers, cam dooly to hand. I hayo; no doubt that a arti cle onto my life, gramraattyoally jerked uhd properly punctooatod, would be a addition to tho choiso litoratoOr oi the day. I was bora in-the State of Maine, of pv.- rents. As a infant I attracted a great deal of attention. The nabers would stand over my cradle for hours, apd say,:. “ Hovy brito that littls’fapo looks 1 How much ha nose 1” The young ladies would carry mo rouud in thare arms, saying I was “ rauzzer’s: bezzy darlin, and sweety ’oety ’ittle ting.” It was .nice, though I wasn’t old onuif to appreciate it. I’m a healthy old darlin now. : I have alius"sustained a good moral karao ter. 1 was never a railroad director in my life- , . Altho in early life I did not invariably con fine myself to truth in my email bill, 1 have bin gradouly grown rospseotabler and fespeo tabler every year. ■ 1 luv my ehildreh, and never mistake another man's wife for my own. I’m not a member of any meetin house, but I firmly belevo in, tncotin houses, and should not feel safe to fake a dose of laudanum, and lay down in the street of a village that hadn’t any, with a thousand dollars in my vest pocket. \ > My tempermont is billions, .altho I don’t ow* a dollar in the world. lam an early riser. My yrifp.ia a Presby terian. 1 may add that lam also bald bed ded. I keep two cows. . I live: in Baldinsville,. Indiany. My next door ns.ber is old Steve Billina. 110 tell you a (ittle story abimtudd Steve that will make you larf.Ho jined the church lost spring, and the mil)later said, “ You must go borne now, .brother Billina, and erect a family.al ter in your house,” whereupon tbs ogrejis old ouns went home, and hilt a reglar pulpit in his settia room. He bad the liners in his house every four days. . :■ Xam 6C' (56) years of age. Time, with his relentless eoythe, is sver bizxy. lie gathers ’em in— ho gathers ’em in. I keep a pig this year. I don’t think of ennything more, Mr. Edi tin. If you ohould give my portrait in connec- tion with my biogrfy, please have mo en graved in a languishing attytood, loanin on n marble pillar—leavin my back hair as it is now. ' Trooly yours. , SLAVE PEN IN MASSACHUSETTS. A Slave-irtiilingr Pi-ofessoi'-lilp In ■lai'vai'tl CoUegn. A correspondent writing to a New York contemporary (rom Boston, says : , Not long since, sometime last winter, I be lieve, an individual, whoso travels had ex tended as far as Charleston, South. Carolina, discovered in that city an auctioneer’s old block, from which, negroes were sold. He procured- it; whether by'purchase or in tbs way some Massachusetts.chaplains are char ged with coming into possession of libraries and pianos, whiolf ..they send home to their families, is not stated, and amazed at his dis oovery and possession himself, he resolved to amaze others.;, Mooting's were announced to be hold in tbs great public places in Boston, distinguished scholars end eloquent speakers procured, and the mass rushed to got a sight of the horrible auction block. Little did those speakers, and exhibitors, and crowds imagine that ,the labor of travelling all the way to Charleston, South Carolina, might have been saved in the search of some relio of barbarity, -by simply passing through Charlestown, Massachusetts, to its northern limits; that almost within sight.of Funeuil Hall, and fairly in sight from Bunker Hill monument if not tho.’slaVo block at least the slave-pen still exists I Into what a Quaker meeting could thpse excited and poisy meet ings have been turned, had someone sudden ly held qp.a piece of the old slave, pen built op. Massachusetts soil, and still standing cn fire, a monument of Massachusetts and New- England guilt, and presenting in itsollf-khe strongest motive to modesty and bumiiip-tion in them, find to charity and forgiveness to others guilty of the same sin, when they la jneftt’ovec it And forsake itl , Ani irresistible curiosity impelled me to search out and see with niv own eyes this strange relic, and humiliating as strange, and setting off without a guide. I loom! it on the outskirts of the; large, central village.— There an ancient spacious and well preserved house, set far back from the street, in the centre of half a dozen acres of land, with inside graveled walks loading to it. and elegant trees embowering it and scattered around the grounds, a handsome garden and summer house, the works of the first owner, lying back of it, while in the rear of the al most princely mansion, end near one corner, stands a house fer the domestics of the suc cessive owners, who were gentlemen of wealth and position.. The slave-pen,-which was just back of . the house of tho domestics, baa been united with it, add both now make one building while the slave-pen remains unimpaired and entire. Col. Isaac Ruyall was the owner of this es- tate, with which an extensive farm was once oouneotod. His father oamo from the island Antigua, ’Where the son was born, who with father'emigrated to this country in 1738. and settled in Medford, whore the father died. who was also a. Colonel, and n rich planter and slave-holder in hie otro .island, and a Tory whoa be came here.. The son was sim ply a coward; ami,.uptm the outbreak of the Revolution, fled to Halifax-, and thence to England,, .tyheri he died in 1781. lie was a slave trader on the coast of Afriun, and in the South, till the time ho fled the country. In 177 G ho wrote, from Halifax to his agent in Medford, ns.follows; . “ Eloase sellflie following negroes: Ste phem and George, each cost £GO sterling, and I would take £5O apiece for them. Ha gar cost £35 sterling,'but t would take £3O for her.; tgdvo for Myra £35, hut will fake £25. .. If Mr. lienjuinin Halo will give $lOO for her, which heofforod—ho may have her, it being a good place. As to Betsey and her daughter Nancy, the former may marry, or take her freedom, as, she may choose, and Nancy you may. put out to any good family by the year.’ • Colonel Koysll did not forget tlio country he bad made hie home, even after be bad de serted it. and found another in England. By bis will he bequeathed 2000 acres of land to lay a. foundation for a professorship of law in Harvard University, while the rest of hie estate was confiscated. The proceeds of the land were (eft . to accumulate till they were sufficient to support a professor. The pro fessorship bears his own name, every cata logue proclaiming to the world that the great est anti-slavery State in the Union educates at this Very day her eons by the endowment of a slaveholder and a slave trader, and the proceeds of the sale of innocent men, women and children stplou on the coast of Africa, penned-in Medford, and sold again in Vir ginia and South Carolina I So strangely are things oonneoted, and so little has Massachu setts and Wow England whereof to glory I Times without number you have listened to your preachers inveighing against the Ca tholic priesthood,- and as often have you heard from them mingled terms of commis eration for, and censure of the “ ignorant dupes” who blindly allow themselves to b« ” priest-ridden.”. At such times you have been made to feel that you alone belonged tu the true democratic church—the church ■wherein true freedom had; an abiding place. How do you feel now;? How have you felt for the whole period of the war lately termi nated? , Were you " priest-ridden” or not?; , You .are; avrarO'that nearly nine-tenths of prahciiors were rampant “ loyalists.”— You know that’overy town and village in kh« North hud its Methodist preacher, whose sets yioes wore,always at tha dieposal of a war meeting—either to add fuel to the dead \y flames of civil war or to top off with prayer tha discordant cries for blood and murder of ambitious demagogues and" thieving politi-1 ciansf ; Have you aver daied to ooatjiovori buy uf your preacher’s politico.! propositional Hare yon ever had the courage to suggest to him the propriety of-oaoaiionally preaching “ Christ and Him crucified,” instead of mat ing political speeches, collecting the wages of sin therefor, and loafiing around' street corners with greedy anxiety for bloody new* and sinful gossip ? Have you not tacitly fal len in with bis- vengeful mood against ” trai tors, and oried.for-war and destruction as his edliQ, or else sunk your views both as citi zens and Christians deep down in your own hearts, prayerfully hoping for tha darkness to pass away?' llnve' you or have you not been “ priost-riddon ?” You either fell la with Jour preacher in all his political view», and, under religion’s cloak, tried to excel him in' the bitterness t f your hate of “ trai tors” find person lion of •' copperheads,” or you'sealed your lips and feared to remon strate against the devil’s influences within the church or to withdraw from it. Hava you or have you not, therefore, been “ priest ridden” —priest-ridjlan, too, as wofully a* your preachers told you were the ignorant Catholics ? -. ■ "And; even now, when hate has eaten itself but and 1 revenge has spent itself, are you fres to notand. talk—regardless of your “loyal”- shoddy priesthood, whoso pockets are lined with the wages of politics! service ? Wo do not think so,-for many of.your pulpits still give out soma-of the vapid loyal platitudes, and your olmroli organs’ tha “religious press”—almost excel in rabid .radicalism tbo mqst malignant of the shoddy newspapers.— As a single instance among many, we quota the following review of the “ Life and, Spee ches of Andrew Johnson,” from the Chrit iian Advocate and Journal, one of your main church organ).;, .. . . Aarnuus Ward “ Andrew Johcbon’s real life is yet to b« lived ; bis real speeches yet to bo made. All ho has done is preliminary, is more nothing unless-' he ehali do something how. But little’that he did before the rebellion' it praiseworthy. Heidentified himself with a ruling class, never speaking a word or doing an not that;,bespoke the existence of real principle iwithia him, 1 much less its potency. He became a ! slaveholder,, though-ho knew it was wrong ; vilified the abolitionists, though he know they were right, ’which villifioation he allows to remain-in this.,edition, though h» strikes out his tirade against John Brows, so much had his conscience grown. With this lack ho was an earnest Union man, wil ling from the start that slavery should aeasa rather than that the-Union should die: That courage served him well when the Union was on trial. If ho will take tho new steps pro vidence orders, that aourago will insure a fit* ting crown. Whether he-will or no remains to be seen.; His present course is dark and perilous. Yet it may lead to safety. Had he followed his predecessors views and made amnesty and suffrage equal and universal, all would bo well.. To such a conclusion the authorized speeches oi this volume do not point.- Wards spoken in midnight meetings at Nashville look that .way, tint not nddrestei as Senator or President. Two months will show his real stuff. Wo trust it will provn the strain, and muke him immortal. . If he says to Congress, Admit those States only, when they have made loyalty and suffrage identical, he is safe. If be seeks to push them on any other course, he will be hoisted with his own petard. His accidental eleva tion, as -in the case of Tyler and Fillmore, will result in his everlasting degradation. “ As a writer of orations nothing ean ha less attractive. Neither Lincoln’s piquancy, nor Sumner’s fervor, nor Seward's grace, nor 1 Webster’s waves of the sea aro here; neither scholarship nor stasosmanship. It is earnest, etraight-fonvard, vehement, with good sense for its body, the style of a practical Ameri can who has an object to gain and aims at that alone." ! This is the kind of. stuff that is smuggled into your-bouseholds by villainous politicians,- to exercise a corrupting iefluenoe upon the impressible minds of your children. Snake like, it is glided into the company of saints and apostles, and, eovired with the outer habit uf eacrcdnoss, it goes straight to, thp minds of youth, ns almost a part of the Sa cred Volume itself. It.js time that good, un suspecting Christian Methodists should be told of this, so. that they may compel thoif V religious” journalists to confine themselves to spiritual things, or to banish the pernic ious sheets entirely from their households.— No doubt Mutbodists would strenuously op pose, sending their children to the priie ring or cook-pit to; be educated ; why, therefore will they allow politicians to enter their own domicils ovorw.Sunday—and that too, in dis guise—to potion the young minds of their children w.i)R politigifT^greJudipes; to teach them to deify John Brown, tha traitor and murderer, nnd to convert them to the odious dogma ol Negro Suffrage? Will they net | see to this evil at ones 7 —Patriot and Union. KT" The man Fuller, who used Secretary Harlan’s name to obtain money from the *J£r tional Republican Committee,' after -- months imprisonment in the 0’ J ' been released without tr'-’ NO. 24. A WORD TO METHODISTS.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers