the American Volunteer
EVKRY THURSDAY MORNING
John B. Bratton,
OFFICE-^ 0 UTS MARKE&6Q UARB.
rKßiis.'tTffo dollars per year if paid strictly
..trance. Two UOUats
*“ d d w lthln three months, Three
mUars will be ohorgqd. These; yna will be
idiy adhered to in every inah ;«ce. No sub-
dlscontlneed tmtll are
S jd unless at the option ,of th&Editor.
. , .
PEOPLE WILL TALK.
You way get through the world, but ’twill be
very slow,
If you listen to all that Is said oa you go;
you’ll be worried and fretted, and kept In a
stew,
For-meddlesomo tongues will have something
to do,
For people will talk.
K quiet and modest you’ll have It presumed
Tbat your humble position Is only assumed;
You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or else you’re
afool;
But don’t be excited—keep perfectly cool—
For people will talk.
And then, if you show the' least boldness' of
heart,
oro alight Inclination to take your own part
They will call you an upstart, conceited and
vain;
gut keep'-straight ahead—don’t stop .to - ex*
plhlu*-
For people will talk,
if threadbare your-dross, old-fashioned your
hat,
Some one will surely toko notice of that,
And hint rather ■ strong that yon can’t pay
; yonr way;
Hot don’t got excited, whatever they say.
. For people will talk.
I f y OU dress in the fashion, don't thing to es
cape, '
For they criticise then Ih a different shape;
you’re ahead of your means, and your tailor’s
unpaid,
put mind your own business—there’s naught
to he made—
For people will talk.
Now, the best way to do, Is to do as you please,
For your mind, if you have one, Is sure to be at
ease, *■
Of course, you will meet with all sorts of abuse;
But don’t think to stop them—it ain’t any use—
' For people will talk.
||Ksallaiiem
ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND.
i do uut think I ever felt prouder
my life tliau I did one morning when
iltr. JOl) IT* uui looonanttvtt
accosted mo as I was making ready the
JlUwauklo to take the through train
westward —
“ Well, George,, my boy, heard the
uews?” “ Guess not, eh? You ain’t got
to run this route again !”
I turned pale, fearing that I hud got
myself lute some scrape.
But X only said— _____
"Why, sir?”
" Why,” he replied, smlllug at my
scared looks-, " because you are put up in
Abe’s place.' You feel • kinder spry, I
reckon.”
I did not teel " kinder spry,” for Abe,
u first-rate hand, had just been prompted,
with a handsome douceur, for gallant
i conduct upon a certain occasion. I was
uia companion on that occasion, and as
its adventure Was the cause of my being
made an engine driver, I will, with your
permission, proceed to relate it without
furthAs^uraface.’
Booh after pay arrival in the Htatea, i
succeeded in obtaining a situation ns fire
man on one nftho trunk lines. After a
time I became; associated with Abel
Storer, who had the reputation of a first
class engine driver, though , he was to my
taste a little too and when In
liquor nothing daunted him.
From Abel I heard many tales respect
ing the' encounters he had with the
“ white Injuns” as he denominated cer
tain filibustering gentlemen ,who had a
playful habit of disguising themselves as
Indians, and carrying off any species of
ammunition,centalned in the wagons.
At timel, indeed, I believe they did not
hesitate to commit the moat dreadful out
rages under the guise of the, war paint. ,
One morning, about two mouths after
my having been appointed fireman, we
got orders to take a train ’ down to Lah
derville. Abel was accordingly in great
hope o( shooting some “Injuns” and
provided himself wiih'a quantity of am
munition for: a six shooter. I, more
skeptical, neglected this precaution. We
started, however, having a quantity of
specie in boxes,some valuable stores, and
a mixed.cargo of notions in our charge.
We had received instructions to wait at
Bunker city lor a faster’ train with pas
sengers, and then, if it had not previous
ly run into us, to assist it up the steep
incline at that place, our train being sub
sequently helped by another locomo
tive.
We arrived at Bunkum siding in safe
ty about five o’clock, and then proceeded
to look out for some food for ourselves.—
We pitched upon aamallstore, where we
managed to procure food and some of tho
most flery stuff, (miscalled whiskey) that
I ever tasted. Abel drank- it greedily,
while I devoted myself to the food.
We were on.the'eve of departure, as
two rough fellows entered, and demand
ed liquor, “ taking stock” of us as they
swaggered about.
Seeing that Abel was becoming more
Intoxicated, and recollecting . that , the
passenger train iniist .be due, I attempted
to remove him; .hut-one of the strangers,-
stepping forward, requested, us to “liquor
him” before we.started. 1 Abel grunted a
drunken assent, and Tj not dating to re
fuse, sat down,-while the drink was be
ing prepared.
During the concoction of the “ reviver”
Abel kept wandering aimlessly about;
swaggering recklessly against the tables,
and when the glass was at length pre
sented for my abceptan ce, ho lurched
heavily against the stranger.,Crash went
the tumbler upon the-floor -while amid a
Tolley of curses, 1 dragged the. offender
from the house, and inauaged to regain
the engine unmolested.
Anticipating we should be followed, I
kept Abel's revolver in readiness, but af
ter a time I noticed two figures proceed
ing in the direction of some log huts,
which lay some distance doWn the line
on the left. As'the strangers disappear
ed over the brow ofcthehll, I turned roy
attention to Abel.
To my astonishment, he responded to
my first adjurations by saying, as he
gained a sitting position :
“Darn them cusses! They' have got
right away 1”
For a moment. I stared at him In
speechless surprise.
“ Why, I thought you were drunk," I
crUd at length.
“Drunkl" he echoed ; “ those fellows
would-have had you on your back in a
coon’s jump, but for mo. I know them,
the Injun thieves, they're after our spe
cie, my boy, as sure as shootln' j but I’ll
tall ’em, the vermins. Which In thespe-
L *l» wagon ?"
the
V 1 ■ . • :n ■ ■ ’ '•<
■ .•••'!; ■. ;
BY JOHN B. BRATTON.
“Number eight,” T replied, wonder-
Ingly. ■
" Off With it, and tackle it on the pas
senger train,” orled Abel, excitedly;
we’ll flx their flints yet, by gosh!"
So we set to work with a will, but
while we are uncoupling the wagon, the
other train arrived. Abel communicated
bis suspicion to the conductor, and in a
few momenta the specie’ was safely inclu
ded among the passenger oars.
By this time the evening was closing
in, and we bad placed the train on the
siding at the top of the incline, to clear
the track for the passengers. I began to
hope that our fears of an attack were
groundless.
We ran down again with steam on to
get in the rear of the passenger train, and
the other engine followed at a little dis
tance, As our engine neared the point,
just below the log huts I have mention
ed, several figures rose from their con
cealment- Without warning of any kind
they deliberately fired at the engines as
they passed. * Surprise, more than fear,
kept us for a moment Inactive,.but Abel
quickly recovered himself. Hbouting to
me to lie down, he discharged two bar
rels at our nearest assailant. With a
groan, he fell dead in bis tracks. In a
few seconds we had run out of range, but
those upon theother engine were less for
tunate.
Unarmed as.tbey were, the driver and
fireman could make no resistance, and
we, as well as the passengers, who were
now turning out their, assistance, were
obliged to remain passive spectators. The
poor fellows were tumbled off the engine,
and the intention to seize the specie was
now evident. But in this way they were
foiled. Some of the passengers, having
got within ranee, had by this tline com
menced a pretty hot fire on the filibus
ters, who now found themselves In u fix,
us Abel reversing bis engine, returned
to the attack. Their position thus be
coming untenable, they started their en
gine, and ran quickly out of the rangeof
the passengers’ fire. But Nemesis was
behind them, Abel seeiug.tbeir manoeu
vre, turned on full pressure, uuu'snruiu
he'd shoot them ere be slept.
NoW commenced the most extraordi
nary chase I ever heard of. The engine
in front bad a start of about half a mile,
but Wo had the great power, and under
stood the management of the machine.—
Both locomotives were well supplied
with wood and water. One of our oppo
nents attempted to jump off, and the
speed was for a moment slackened, but
be was hurled upon the line a bleeding
mass. His terrible fate deterred bis com
panions, who increased their distance
and disappeared oyer the brow of the
■hll). ! We followed, going, at a terrible
rate.tbunjping'aud oscillating to such a
degVOe'dpon the uneven track that I fan
cied We shout'd run off the line. We kept
our.ilpurse, however, gaining lightly for
atlnie. Abel taking every opportunity
of sending a bullet through, the weather
boaid of the retreating engine. .
As; the excitement cooled a little, .1, for
the first time, discovered that I had been
hit. A tickling of blood froia a wound In
my arm, and a numb sensation, were
everything but agreeable. Although a
bandage stopped the bleeding and, we
weie then at liberty to observe the chase
once more. Darkness came on, yet there,
was no token of any abatement of speed,
nor any apparent change in our relative
positions. Occasionally a definite whis
tle was borne back to us, but still we
swept through the night. Suddenly the
red glow upon the track in front of us
seemed to stop. We neared it rapidly.
” Dive!” roared Abel, just in time. As
he spoke two allots came whizzing thto’
the class in front, and fell harmless from
the Iron plate behind ns.
• < A shave, that!” laughed my compan
ion, " but I'll be quits.” As he sporkehe
got out upon the frame, and told me to
lie down.
'■ What on earth are you about ?” His
reply made me shudder.
" I’m going to kill them on that en
gin’, good-bye, friend." He was gone—
creeping over the wheel casings to the
buffer beam.
Now determined to win, I employed
every means to do so. We were surely
gaining. Another log upon the already
roaring furnace. The valves disohareeda
cloud of hissing team, but bn X went
hurrying to destruction.
In a few moments more the engines
were almost touching; another shot;
bul no harm was done- We bumped! a
grinding noise was heard, then another
bump. “Hurrah,” I cried, or rather tried
to cry, for my thrqat was so parched that
I could scarcely utter a sound, and re.
gar .Hess of risk, was about to join Abel,
when a shrill noise rose beneath us, and
the other engine shot off into the dark
ness ahead of us. With ah oath I shutoff
the steam, (further progress T kiiewlt
was impossible,with heated- maohinery,)
and shouted to-AtJel. Assobn aa-I obiild
pull up I jumped off and ran to the front.
Abel had disappeared 1 Gracious-heaven!
had he fallen when the engines touched?
I began to fear the worst, and to call
wildly in the vain hope that ho might
hear, but the whisper of the wind was
the only reply. It was, impossible that
he could have gained the foot plate of
the • other locomotive, and escaped in
stant death ; had he fallen, the engine
would have killed him. Thus I argued,
and after a tlifao mechanically filled a
pipe, and took the lamp behind to oil
the cranks. Looking at my watch, 1
found we had been running 30 minutes,
and at such a pace I knew the up mall
was not far distant, and that Landerviile
was only a few miles off. So I ran gen
tly ahead again, and had not proceeded
far when a sudden “ lift” of the euglhe
nearly threw mo down. I stopped and
descended. At the side of the track lay
a body horribly disfigured. The cow
■ catcher had struck him, and dragged
diim along. An Indefinite sensation of
Tear took possession of me. Was this
Abel after all ?
It was too awful; I managed, however,
to turn the corpse upon its back. The
features were Indistinguishable, but all
doubt was speedily set at rest; for by my
lantern’s light I recognized Abel’s cap
tightly clasped in the dead man s band.
I staggered against the engine, and
now the excitement was all over, sobbed
like a child. The passengers in the train
we had left, the up mall, all were forgot
ten, until X bad reverently plaoed the
boby on the engine. The silence was
terrible. I persevered until I bad cover
ed the remains of my poor mate ns well
gs possible, and as 1 sat down upon the
engine rail, Ifancied I heard tlle distant'
nettle of an approaching train. I rose
and listened . intently. After a panse, a
whistle long, though very lalrit, broke
the stillness, I stood rready to tan if oc
casion demanded It, when again the
whistle rose, this time loud and.clear;,
and aiter dying away into a long, wail
ing sound,suddenly ended in three sharp,
quick notes. My heart leaped to my
throat—this was Abel Storer’a signal.
With trembling fingers I replied. In a
few moments a dark object loomed up in
front, and Abel's “ hallo" was ringing
In iny ears. In two seconds more I was
beside him. ;
“ Don't ring a man's arm off," he re
plied, “I’m rather done.”
“ Good heavens 1 bow did you escape?”
I said,
“I'd a toughisb 'bout of it,” Abel re
plied, “ but by gosh, I’ve won."
“ I fancied you were shot," said X.—
“ Book here," taking him to his own en
gine I showed him the body which still
lay there In ail.its, ghastly reality. .
“Shot,” he laughed, in no way affect
ed by the sight, “ no sir ; that's the coon
I piped in the skull;, be grabbed my cap,
too, I may as well have it again, I
guess.” So saying, be released the dusty
head covering from his late antagonist’s
grasp, and calmly brushing it, continued
—“ Yes, you see, when thedlglues closed
I leaped on the step, and spotted this fel
low at once—didn't you hear the shot I 1 !’
I said I had heard a uoise, but fancied
that it was a steam pipe that had given
way.
“ No,” he sold, “ that was my first fire.
These Injuns had but one “ derrick" be
tween them, and. this fellow was about
to use it in my favor, but I luckily stop
ped that. The other tried a knife on my
sklu, but be was soon plugged. Then I
bad to go to iauderville to give informa-
tion, and was returning for you when I
saw your bead lamp and whistled accor
dingly—that’s all I” <
“Is the unfortunate man dead ?” I
asked.
"Not he,” replied Abel, “ l only shot
uo‘ll“wac "lila'
arm, I reckon. We’d better be going and
seeing about the passengers now.”
We then coupled the engines, and leav
ing the dead undisturbed on one, moun
ted the other. On, arriving at Buukum
city we told our tale, to which'the man
gled body of the filibuster bore addition
al testimony, and after a detention of
rather mote than an hour, the passengers
were dispatched upon their journey.
Upon oiir return. to headquarters we
were specially thanked, and otherwise
more substantially rewarded. Abel was
promoted to a more comfortable and per
manent berth In Now York city, while I
was made an engine driver, with the
Ulghest-Boale of pay, In his stead.
What befel me in my new appoint
ment, my. readers may perhaps bo in
formed upon a future opportunity.
FOE LIFE AND LOVE.
Harrie Van Gelder was the most’pro
voking, ’ pretty, altogether charming
little coquette that ever drove a devo
ted lover distracted with her capricious
ways. Fair-headed, blue-eyed Florian
Courtland was handsome and winning
enough to have enslaved some other
woman, but his heart was bound up in
the brunette beauty who daily destroy
ed his peace. She loved him for all
that, but he tried iu vain to make her
confess it.
It was in the springtime of the year,
and had rained almost incessantly for
nearly two weeks. Harrie Van Qeld
er resided with her aunt, Miss Hannah
Llnwood, in Thornway, a village about
eight miles from the city where Florian
dourtland practiced law; and Florian
grew impatient for fair weather and a
chance to visit his refractory beloved.
There was little immediate prospect of
a cessation of the rain, anyone morn*
ing the ardent lover resolved to set the
weather at defiance; and accordingly
he sent out for a horse, and prepared
for his stormy ride. He came down
from his. room, arrayed in a watsr
proof coat, thick boots' and coarse
gloves ; a glaced cap covering his curl
ing golden hair, and a riding'whip in
l his hand.
On any other errand it would have
been an exceedingly despairing ride
and if he had been bound for any other
destination, he would certainly have
tamed back; but the thought of meet
ing Harrie stirred him forward. The
way grew worse with every mile; his
horse plodded slowly through the mud,
stumbling now and then, in some’of
the many ruts and pitfalls ; the rain
poured steadily down, beating into his
face and running in streams from his
cap; and he was very thankful when
at last he came within the vicinity of
“ Llnwood,” as the estate of Harrle’s
aunt was named;
He hud taken a seldom used by-road
to shorten the distance to Llnwood,
where the road was divided by a-small
stream, which bounded one side of the
estate, and was crossed by fording.—
But now, the long rains had swollen
the waters to a flood, and the streams
lashed into foam and tossed into bil
lows by its own velocity, rushed on
ward at a rate that mode tho thought
of fording it a wild insanity. With a
mental anathema against his own stu
pidity in not thinking of this Court
land turned to retrace his way to the
main road, two miles back, where the
little river was spanned by a bridge.—
Opposite him, across the stream, he
could see the gray walls of Linwood,
and In his anxiety to be within them,
the two miles seemed like twenty.
• But the bridge was reached at last
and crossed. Florian had noticed, as
he approached tho bridge, that the
land, at ’a little distance below it,
which was low and flat, was completely
flooded, the river overflowing here,
having submerged it to a great extent.)
A point or knoll of land, close upon
the river’s bank, remained dry, form
ing a iittle Island in the midst of tho
whirling muddy flood; and upon the
Island stood a small u’npainted wooden
house, which as Florian perceived with
concern, was evidently occupied, for a
thin blue wreath of smoke was ascend
ing from the chimney. If there were
people in that dwelling their situation
was most perilous, a? Iho water xyas
CARLISLE. PA., THU?
rialnt tost, and-threatened-sooh to'
cove? ’ the land and sweep away the 1
housp.
Florian ttirned aside from the high
way and rode down to the edge‘of the
flooded lowland; as he approached the
water’s edge he saw a female form at
the window of the threatened dwelling,
and a handkerchief was waved implor
ingly toward him.
Unhesitatingly he rode into the wa
ter, which, for some distance, was not
over his horse’s back; but it soon grew
deeper, forcing the animal to swim.—
Florian urged him forward, and draw
ing near the bouse, the door was thrown
open, and he cried out in affrighted
surprise, for there stood Miss Llnwood
and Harrie Van Gelder 1
“ Harrie I” cried Florian, “ for heav:
en’s sake, how came you here ?” .
“ We came to see a sick woman,” re
plied Harrie, with prompt coolness,
“ and the water rose before we—”
“It is rising now, and tost,”, he in
terrupted, excitedly, “and there is no
time to waste, i My horse will carry
two. Which of you shall I take flrst?”
“ The sick woman flrst,” said Har
rie, quietly.
Flirt, coquette, as she was called, and
not without cause, yet the element of
heroism was in her nature. She was as
calm and cool, now, as she had eyer
been in her life, while her aunt stood
trembling, and Florian was pale with
excitement. Florian trembled too, as
he looked at the feeble old woman,,
whom Miss Linwood was assisting
from her chair to the door, and whom
he had not noticed, until Harrie called
his attention to her. He trembled with
the appalling fear that there would not
be time to go and return twice, before
the. swiftly-rising waters,.should have
torn the frail structure from its founda
tions, for there was already an inch of
water on the floor.. But he only cast
one. glance at Hwria’a_calraface, and
stoop.ed to. lift the sick woman up,belbre
him.' Without a word he turned, ms
horse toward the shore, and the good;
beast, with its double burden, struggled
back through tho flood.
Harrie and her aunt waited shiver
ing as they watched the water growing
deeper and deeper upon tho floor and
heard the waves wash, with an ever
louder sound, against the frail four
walls that stood between them and
death. They saw Florian reach the
shore, place the sick woman upon the
ground, 'throw off the heaviest of his
clothing, and turn his now unwilling
steed toward the house again.
They were standing knee deep in
water when he once more approached
she already shaking building. He did
not speak a word, bnt looked silently
from Harrie to her aunt, his white face
growing whiter yet, as Harrie said, in
steady tones:
■“ Aunt. Hanna flcatJ’
s f commenced Mias' Lin-
“ Harrie—’
wood.
“Go, aurit Hanna !”
“ Harrie, I won’t 1”
“ You must,” said Harrie firmly.
“Harrie! Harrie! for pity’s sake—”
“You are delaying her, Miss Han
nah,” exclaimed Florian, hoarsely.—
“Come—she will not yield, if she
dies."
With a groan Miss Linwood gave up,
and he lifted her upon his.horse. The
turbulent waters rushed into the room,
and Harrie staggered and clung to the
wall for support. Florian’s face was
ghastly, and he bent forward and placed
his hand upon her shoulder whispering
in a choked voice : ;
“ Kiss me Harrie.”
She put her arms around his neck
and kissed him, a long, passionate kiss,
which was their first, and might be
their' last. He strained her to him,
saying: ’
“ Harrie, you do love me ?”
“ Yes, Florian.”
Then she leaned against tho wall
again, as he went, and hid her face,
trying to shut out the sight of those
yellow waters, creeping up the side of
the room, higher and higher with
every wave that rolled in-through the
door.
As Florian reached the shore, a car
riage was approaching in the distance
rocking from side to side with the fu
rious speed to which the driver was'
lashing the horses.
“It is the carriage from Linwood,”
said Miss Hannah, “we have been
afraid of a freshet, and they have taken
alarm, and come to look for us.”
Florian did not hear her ; he was
urging his exhausted horse into the
flood again. The poor beast trembled
anji hesitated, but Fofian spurred him
flerdely on, smiting him with his
clenched fist, and shouting at him in
lus -‘frantic excitement, He was half
mad with agony, as he looked across
the turbid waters to the half submerg
ed house, and saw that they had risen
above the top of Its door, and Harrie
had’climbed up through the loft to the
roof, where she clung in momentary
peril of death.
When the hurrying carriage reached
the spot, and Miss Linwood’s coach
man leaped to the ground, Florian was
half way back to Harrie. Mistress and
man stood with pallid faces and hearta
that hardly beat, silently watching the
beautiful girl, as she. clung to her frail
support: and the young man, with his
white fade, and his golden hair blowing
back,'as he dashed madly through tho
flood to her rescue. 4
While they watched a great billow
came roiling in from -the river, roaring
fearfully-, and tossing ita yellow water,
as it dashed upon IJarfio’s refuge. Alisa
Llnwood screamed, and her servant ut-
terdd a hoarse cry, for where the house
bad Been was a whirling wreck of
boards and timbers, and Florian’s
horse was struggling riderless toward
the shore I . ..
But another moment, and they saw
that Harrie yet clung to the floating
roof and Forlan was beside her upon
it. Seizing a long board, as the waters
whirled it within reach, he guided tho
frail raft with it to tho shore. As he
neared tho land, tho coachman from
Linwood leaped into the water and
came to his assistance; and In a few
jim , r .
moments they were -all standing; mpoui
the' land,' 'dripping, but pro-'
foundiy thankftil party.
They proceeded as fast as the carriage
could carry them, to. Lin wood, where
they all 1 found plenty of employment
for the remainder 6f the day in gOttlng
rid of the effects, of their perilous
a’dventure—so far as they could do so.
,SMY, JULY 4=*, 1812.
It transpired that, the sick woman
had 1 not received; any injury; Mias
Hannah, hadcaught a slight cold; Har-,
rio had, caught a severe one, and Pieri
an caught^Harrie.
THE PLOT AGAINST HA¥LEY.
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE PLOT ORIGINATED.
Near noon, the sth of September,
1852, a'mah laboring under great ex
citement wd4 Walking hurriedly up
Broadway i "New York. ,His features
were Unshed and convulsed, his glances
wild nnd restless, his whole mein in
dieativp'of keen anguish.
Turning to the‘right into Bleeoker,
street, he soon reached a plain three
story hud basement brick house, do
Which he gave himself admittance.
‘ Are you there, Ruth?’ he called
from 1 the hall.
A step was heard overhead, followed
by tlie.rastling of a dress, and a young
lady descended the front stairs. Des
pite several points of marked contrast,
there was a family likeness about the
couple; that proclaimed them to be
brother and sister.
‘Why, what’s the .matter, Luke?’
cried the latter,starting at sight of the
disturbed countenance 'that met 1 her
view. ‘ Are ymi'ijl?’ , ,
‘ I’ve just received'bah replied
the brother, leading the way into the
parlor— 1 news which has given me' a
iterribie shook.’
; • Shocked ? You ! Whpt has happen
ed?’ ._!■ ■■■-■ .
lu-a word. Clara Aymar is marri
ed I’ '
* Married !’ echoed', the sister, recoil*,
ingi ‘ Clara Aymar married! Is it
possible?’
‘Yes, married 1 ! the girl I’ve been
laying siege to for years past—the only
girl 1 ever cared, a pin for. Imagine
the shoqk this event gives me. I’m
nearly crazy.’ .
• Then you really idved her?’
. ‘ Loved her ! I must have worshipp
ed her, or pise this thing' would not
have so completely upset me.’
‘ Oh, as' tb that,'the loss'of a thing al
ways gives us an exaggerated notion of
it value,’ said the sister philosophically
as she sank languidly into an easy
chair, and smoothed out a fold in her
showy morning robh, ‘ You are sim
ply shocked, as you: sky. But by to
morrow you will laugh afcsthe whole
matter.’ -
I jjon’t'. Ruth.',’ iiuplored the pr&iheA,
-sinking heavily Intr/ the /nearest ch’abfi
‘ Clara Aymer la more to me.than.myj
life! 1 My love for her is ; a delirium l :!
It’s no such passing fancy as you sup
pose, but an everlasting passion—a
rage.—a good of molien. lava! And
I’ve counted all along upon marrying
her. 1 True, she has rejected me twice,
but I thought she’d change her
mind—’
‘ She was in no way committed to
you ?’
‘No, of course not. She has never
given me any encouragement. But I
am nope the less surprised. I supposed
that every thing was favorable enough
to niy wishes. I knew that she was
young to marry—an orphan—without
money and without friends—presuma
bly without suitors; and. I, flattered
myself that she couldn’t’' always re
main insensible to my attentions.’
‘"You reasoned wisely enough, of
course, Luke; but reason never decides
these matters,’ declared the sister, with
a sort of contemptous compassion. ‘ A
'whim—a chahce'meeting—a smile or
a word—a moment’s weakness— any
trifle—these areathe things by which
marriages are brought about. But'
who isthe bridegroom ?’
■ ‘ Ah! that’s a point that will touch
youti little; I think, Can’t you guess
who he is?’ 11
‘ I haven’t; the .least'idea.’
• Well, then; he’s Will. Hawley.’
The sister'sprang abruptly‘to her.
feet, clasping . both hands to heart.—
The chaiiging colors of lier brother,
agitation, hia anguish, all passed to her
own featlires. 1 ■ ■.
‘Will. Hawley?’ she gasped. ‘Oh
you don’t mean it* Luke !’'
‘ But I do though-.- It’s God’s truth..
Clara Aymer and Will. Hawley -aroi
husband and wife.’ ‘
A heavy fall succeeded. The sister'
iuul. fainted. Sho lay upon the floor ps'
onodead.
. ‘ Did sho think that much of Haw*'
ley muttered the (brother astonished;,'
‘ I didn’t suppose—’
He hastened to bring a pitcher of
'water and bathe the white features,,
and then set himself to chaffing the
clenched* bands.-
Capt. Luke Pedder was twenty-seven
years of age, with an originally light
complexion, which had reddened vtdth
generous living and bronzed with ex
posure to wind and sun. His form .was
of the average size and height, and his
features of the most Ordinary type.—
He was singularly selfish and unscru
pulous, but of gentlemanly manners,
being well educated: and used to good
society. His ability 'as a navigator
was fair for a man'bi his age and ex
riehce, but he" <swed his position,‘ag
commander of a fine Australian,(flip*j
per, more to respect for his late fathei*
audio sympathizing favor than to liia
own merits.. :
Miss Ruth Pedder was two years'
younger than her brother, 1 and .conse
quently twenty-five years pi
though sho owned to only .twenty-—.
Shu was tall, thin, and a little inclined,
in her outlines, os in her temper to an
gularity. She was not particularly
bright, but sho was bold and unscru
pulous, and possessed a fierce energy
which was capable of compensating in
any emergency for lack of goniup.
Tho father of the couple had, boon, a
prominent eblp-owner and. merchant.
I,;!-/'
h'hia latter, ;daySi!tho .senior ',ped
hatLbeen.i unfortunate, and had
m up. completely—a 1 result has-
L it was whispered,: by the : wild
land financial irregularities of his
I The old man’s failure had soon
followed by his death, and al
—for such Is tome! —he wasgen
forgottbn. ,
bw odd it is!’ ejaculated Capt.
Br, as he rubbed his sister’s cold
t. ‘ She madly in love with Will,
ley, and 1 crazy after Clara Ay
■ And now Will, and Clara are
led,, and Ruth and I are left
a the cold.’
(c the vigorous treatment he had
ed, Miss Pedder soon recovered
Snses.
re you sure they’re married?’she
inded.
srfeotly. I learned the fact half
jonr.iißince, .from. Hawley’s com
ler—Captain. Greggs you know.—
lin QrOEga. yroq the, wadding.
Ik place, las, tf#riday eyening r? ghe
| evening -after Hawley’s-.return
(Rio. It was. a quiet only
f friends were invited., , But let'
sk you a question. Did: Hawley
propose to you ?’ ,
p. But X expected that he would
Mo so. He has been here often
feb-’.
/But ij
•deK 1
blrofce
tened
ways
son.
been
ready
eraljy
dems
‘P<
an If
matic
Capti
It to(
very
from i
a lev
mem
ever
( ft
soon:
enou]
‘ Yes he came several times to ask
me fir a berth in my clipper. I pro
mise I to think of him, for I know in
a get eral way that you liked him.’
‘ I thought he’d: realize that you,,
could bo of service to him,’ explained
Miss'pedder; ‘ I thought.he’d remem
ber drat mother left me this house and
and a few thousand; dollars to do as I
pleased with. I—was-eonsclpus, too,
,tbat]i possessed a felrof personal
mtiraptiphs, -And aql supposqd him to
be 'entirely heart-free, :,I took it for
granted that.l phopld.gpt him.. His
attentions seemed marked
MHO treated you .poilteiypor cournt/j 1
intoAuptod Dodder, ,‘, and, bp„ .ooulda.’!,
have well done less,-after asking me,
to befriend him. . But he neyer made
any formal decoration ?’ ,■ ■,
‘No, he didn’t.. As, mate of a Rio
ship j he .was. away seven-eighths of the
time; and I didn’t expect a regular
courtship. But I ; took It for grant:
ed— ’ • 1.”..
Pedder made animpatieiit gesture.
• deceived ourselves,’ he mut
tered. • We’ve been carried away by
oUr feelings. The glrPs rejection of me
was Ireally intended to be final, and
Hawley’s visits here were merely vis
its iof business and friendship. 'But
why,'.should Clara prefer Hawley to
mo- i "can’t imagine,’ added Pedder
drawing himself up haughtily. ‘He
haft neither name, nor money, nor po
sition i’ •
7 ■ ‘Nor can/ 1 see why Hawley should
ptefef Glara Ay mer to me .'" said Miss
Redder; Oft 1 sheglanced ether'reflection
in'Ond’of the long ; mirrors 'hea# bfert—
‘She’s a hired attendant; or somethttg
bi( [that kind—th6"ereatnre;’-~ —
. fil’d no idea third you thought so
touch of Hawley,’ observed the hroth-
as he strove to calm his painful
emotions.
Miss'Pedder moaned. Her eyes
illlpd with tears.
11 thought all the world of him,’ she
murmured. '
■A long silence fell upon the couple.
‘Well, well, they’re husband and wife,’
at length muttered Pedder hoarsely.—
‘Anti this, I suppose, is all there is to be
said.’
Hiss pedder compressed her lips until
they bleu, staring at her brother with a
fixedness amounting to ferooily.
‘No! no!’ she breathed fiercely. ‘The
mailer shall not end here. That mar
riage—that abominable marriage—’
jgHo clutched at her heart again,,as if
Suffocating.
- 'Pedder opened hia eyes widely.
* why, what can . wo do ?’ he queried. —
‘Yon wouldn’t have me murder Hawley,
I suppose ? That wouldn't make him
1 your husband. And, on the other, hand,
it Wouldn't.'do me any good if you were
to $ll Clara; Aymar.’
•But there is a way, Luke, of undoing
th?t marriage.’
.Pedder started (award hia sister, as if
eliotrtfied.
■ ‘Doyou njpan it? 1 ho demanded.
‘Pmean It, and ! swear it i. I’ll never
oohsont (Ovihat girl’s having Hawley,!—
i'll dig a gqif between them aa broad as
the ocean. I’ll undo that marriage or
’die."
<! ‘6ioftly i .jWiherjlsKato?’ . ,
'/‘Se refeiqfd to their single servant.
•j ajihela out for the day,! - jtpg.jfjned Mlse
ugedder, .arigipg andlplapting herself In a.
ibhair: - •Th^ra / .waa Httle .‘to, <|o', you know,
las I dld home till dinner/
1 ‘Then hq ope will hear lie.’ '" 1 , ’ ”
dqjirew a chair nearer to that' of his,
;aister and sat down beside her.’o
■ 1 ‘What’s your idea ?’ he asked, In'h
'whisper^
‘Sly idea Is to separate them—to turn
.(heir love tb hate-to dig a pit beneath
jthoirfoot that will remain'open forever!’
: ‘But how, ?’
‘Will, Hawley is poor, isn’t,he?'
‘Certainly;; there le no mistake about
that. Hia pother was a helpless invar
lid fur the last ten years of her life, and
Will- insisted on her using, for her com
fort every penny he earned. It hasn’t
been six months since he was relieved of
that ‘burden. He’s poor, therefore, as
ydii say—poor as Job’s turkey!’ '
‘‘ ‘Then he’ll to, leave his darling
,Cja!ra|| peered Mrs. Pedder venomously.
.‘He’ll have to absent himself from his
Ifileaiy in order to .earn their mutual
byead and butter. In short, he'll have to
gq to sea again?’, ,
, . ‘Well,'yes; I suppose he will, assented
Pedder.' 1 ‘He can get' bett'er |wnge3 at sea
than'elsewhere. He’ll sail again', sbbn/'
no doubt.’, ‘ ‘; -
" ‘I thoiikbt as ttillfSi. ‘And ‘tUb sea is
full of terrible dan(;efs‘! : When do you'
Sail again for Australia?’
‘‘ln' about two weeks—possibly In ten
days—as the ship’s filling ‘up rapidly.'
‘Hawley le thoroughly competent to
be your flrsfmate?'
Pedder looked wo'nderlugly at hia sis
ter a moment, and then answered :
‘Of course. I know of no better man
for the poet.’
‘He must bo your first mate, then; You
have influence enough with your owners,
VOL. 59.-’--NOv4:-
I turn ont' th'oproaoiltlnaunt-,
r bent?’do si ‘i'-' 1 11 ' ■' !•
■tyhy, the post is already vacant. MB:'
Jarding-ayou hava aeenihlm—Jdr, Jarr .
ding baa just been callcdihome, suddenly
to Ohio, on accent of his father’s; ill
ness—’ ,
■dood), That’s, fortunate, You must
recommend Hawley for the vacant place
to your owners, and get them to engage
hiin.i The thing can be done I 1
■Without the least doubt. It was un
derstood, you know, as X just now re
marked, that I was to help Hawley at
the first opportunity. We’ll accordingly
suppose that lie sails with me as first
mate the ndxt voyage. 'What then ?’
‘You must leave him —not dead, but a
prisoner—on some desert Island between
here and Australia.’
Fedder looked bis astonishment.
;lf It can be done,’ he said after a pause,
what next?’
1 Yqu must come back and report that
he is dead, furn ishing full details and
good; proofs. Those details and proofs
wilt ribt be difficult tp manufacture.—
’Thenyou must be ail kindness and sym
patlljf to .the young widow, os she will
suppose herself to be, and in less .than a
year thereafter she will be your wife.’
‘Oli, if this thing were possible!’sigh
ed Fodder, beginning to look relieved.
•Possible P It’s as simple as kissing.
And itho moment you are married to
Clara, I will take a trip to Australia for
my health, and naturally enough, stum
ble Upon . the very island where you
have | left Hawley; effect his rescue; tell
Ulm bis wife is dead; condole and sym
pathize with him like an angel; and con
clude the whole comedy by becoming his
wife and settling in Australia. You’ll
thus have your Clara, on this side of the
oeehn, and I shall bo hqppy with Haw
ley on the other.’
She was smiling now, with every 1 sign
of autlblpated triumph. • ■ 11 ;
Aalto P-idlier,'die twiated nervously In
hie ohir, scarcely, venturing.to breathe.
‘Tliere’a jugboue dlfUoulty,’ he mut
bwuwli—of ft— Uayrlojr-oii ill*
ileacrt island without his suspecting
'anything. ’
, l it|oan he,done,' and the Upaof, Mlaa
iPctld|er.caine together like the jawg of a
ifiotiJ ‘There 'auo difficulty about find
ing a suitably island?' ,
Not the leash I saw the Island in my
mind’s eye the moment you uttered the
. word, and a glorious one it Is for our pur
pose.’
■lt will be easy for you to get Hawley
upon it,’suggested Miss Pedder thought
fully; ‘lf it’s near your route, you can
call there for water. If it’s out of- your
way, 1 you can be blown (here by adverse
Winds, or be drifted there by unknown
currents, or fetch up there by a mistake
in your chronometer. And once there,
you ban have Hawley seized by some
trusty agent, while be is ashore upon
business, or you cun send him ashore
umidr some pretence, such as looking lor
a deserter from the ship or for a ship
wrecked sailor, and then sail away with
out him—’ \
‘piy no more,’ interrupted Ptcider, with
wildlexultatidu! 1 ' ‘I see how to limnuge
the oflair from its beginning to its end.’
•Aiicl yon now see' that we call undo I
thatjhateful 'marriage ?’
‘Perfectly—perfectly. The utt'uii will
require a little;, time and puileuce. of
course, and a little expenditure of mon
ey, but we are sure to triumph. Capital!
glorious!. What a load you huyu taken
from tny soul ! Ruth, what a genius jOu
are!.’
Ho leaped to bis feet, and began pac
ing to and fro rapidly, witli the most
extravagant signs and exclamations of'
joy. .
■First to get Hawley on hi.- island,’ re
sumed Miss Redder musingly.* ‘Next
for you to marry the pretended widow.— '
Then for me to rescue the prlaoiier and
marry him. And Anally mr you and
me to be happy ..you in your way and I •
in mine—you with Clara In New York,
audjl with Will. iulAustralia. You eom
prqpeud the whole project clearly ?’
the first step to the last. There’s
only) one possibility of failure—’
‘‘iiud that-one ?’
Alrefusal on Hawley’s part to accept
the Ipost offered him—a refusal based up
on tils marriage;’ t ; .
ifiSa Redder turned pale at the thoughts ■
‘But he won’t refuse,’ she soon declar
ed, iecoverlng her equanimity. ‘He has‘
long been wanting Just snob a place.—
Marrldd or single, be can’t neglect bia
bread and butter. 1 ...
.‘Well said, Ruth. I think we can:
count upon him. The past he came
here to ask me for la now vacant-, and I
will accordingly, have it offered to him,
just as if nothing bad.bappened.’
‘Exaotlyil You needn’t speak of hie
(natriage. or seem to. know, anything
about: 11)*/ You can pimply oiler hjm lhq,
postlh questionin accordance with the
oldjunderstandiug. And* he will accept
It. He Cat),!t possibly baye any sdapi
clou of anything wrong. Outwardly and
.apparently, we are all oh] good terms
with one another, and will'remain sol.—-
Loi the wagesj offered him be liberal.
Possibly he nmy object to leaving his
young bride so soon, but the next voy
age after this one—’ ‘
Redder interrupted the remark by a
gesture of impatience. He was all eager
ness now—all determination.
•That next -voyage after this one will
not answer,’ he declared. 'Hawley shall
accompany me on my very next trip. To
make all sore on this point, I will have
him engaged this very day. In fact I
will see to this now.’
He eeizodiils bat and gloves, addressed
a few words to his sister, and .quietly
his departure down town. The last
glances the couple exchanged at the door
wore full of Jubilant wickedness.
. The next three or four hours passed
slowly to M|ss f odder. , She was begln
,nlng to.fear itljal the whole, project
miscarried at Its; very 'commencement,
and was fretting herself Into' a. fever,
when Peddeij suddenly made tils appear
ance. One glance at his vivid flushes,
at hie dancing eyes, at his airy manner
was sufficient.
•Wo triumph then ?’ she cried, throw
ing herself Into his arms for the first time
In years.
•Completely! X saw my.owners on the
subject, and they sent for Hawley. Ho
at .first offered sotne'objeotlons, us was
natural, hut the high Wages, the great
step upward, the kindly Interest we.all
manifested, soon brought him Id a grate
ful acceptance I’
•Splendid I’ murmured Miss Peddler,
;es of. Adyertisvtii
U )
"~‘t i i*M>' i a'» au ...»v
fw «rdo~jT6o“taob Sioo Voo SiJ oo taiw
l i 1100 400 600 000 MOO aioo
rim 400 600 000 UOO 10 OO 00 00
2. 25) 470 576 OCS WOO L W OO TQM
J 2 m 560 0607 60 MOO 20 00 Oi 00
5 “ 2 m 060 760 iw 15 60 ffl6o 07 00
2 m 2 m 7 50" WOO 4®m 14800
25* *59 IS a m 10 CO 20 00 60 00 60 00
I;, j§
si 00.
■!&SSS&eWSMm jf**
■ ■ F?r Yearly Cards, npt exoeodlM six linos, 7 00
, ror Announcements live ceUwpGrlme nn *
loss contracted for by thayeor.- • .
;t For Business anil Special Noticed, 10 conta
, per line. ./tsu/ih .u .i v
| 1 - J Double column rulVortlHcmenui extra,
with a rippling lough. ‘I know, tee thing
Was feasible. Aui}pp.lUf {wo we jbypore
oiir fond bridegroom trill be,
(he sea again—’
•In two weeks more, Roth ? We shall
be off In six oreigfctfdayS. 1 ’ Tile cargo is
fairly tumbling .aboard .Uie
dcra, to say nothing of a fair list of pas
sengers. The honeymoon of our loving
doves will be abridged to six short days
more, you may be certain.’
CHAPTER 11.
A GREAT STEP TAKEN.
In the midst of the Autartlo ocean, a
little off the route from New York to
Australia, tbere lies a large Island named
Kergulen’s Land, or—as Captain *Conk
called it—the Island of Desolation.
It was discovered Just a hundred years
ago, (in 1772), by the French naval offl
cer whose name if bears. It was uniu-’.
habited then, and Is 10-day as deserted
as ever.
The smallest school boy among our
readies can flnd .lt upon his map of Die,.
worlll, about midway between the. south
euit |>f Africa and Australia, well up lo
ward the Bouth Pole.
It is a hundred miles In length by fifty
in breadth, and 1s consequently three or •'
four times as large as Rhode Island.- 1
Its coasts are so wild and dangerous
that-its discoverer, during the two expe
ditions that he made to it, did not once
bring bis ships to anchor in any of its
bays and harbors.
Its shape is very irregular, but some
thing like that of an hour glass, it being
neatly out in two by a couple of large
bays ; but these two divisions are une
qual in size, the northern peninsula be
ing much larger than the southern, .
Its coast line is wildly broken and .
jugged, its innumerable gnlfs being,long,
and'narrow, and its promontories are .
correspondingly sharp and slender, reach
ing out into the ocean like fingera. '
Tile body of the Island Indeed resent
blea-that of gome huge monster of .the
iinTefllluvlan world, evfn as its capes and
headlands.resemble anoh a monster's.urn
sightly limbs.and,clawed; •; . ...
■ Ajmoro terrific solitude than this Jslp
of 'Desolation does not exist upon our
wrecked planet. , .
Neither the snows of Himalaya nor
the tends of Sahara cgn outvie its ter
rors.
No Inhabitant is there, not even a
savage—no house, no tree, no shrub, ho
dog—not even a snake or a wolf.
lione, blasted and barren, it looks
like the skeleton of a land that has per
ished.
It may Indeed be that Desolation lb
the relic—the surviving fragment—of a
continent that went down here count
less ages .ago, with hosts of inhabitants,
in some yast cony ulsion of nature.
■lt; has, certainly undergone dreadful
visitations; been rent by earthquakes,
pulverized by frosts, lashed and wasted
by fierce tempests.
Its mountains are only of moderate
height, but'are capped eternally with
snow.
His vegetdtion S limited to a few
dwtirfish 1 plants, including some mosses,
a species of lichen, a coarse grass, a
plant resembling a small cabbage, and
a sort of cross.
Ite winds are raw and piercing, its .
winters those of the Polar Circles.
The interior of the island is occupied .
by immense boggy swamps, where the
ground sinks at every step.
The rains in Desolation are almost
incessant, in their season, and the is
land is accordingly veined with numer
ous; torrents of fresh water, some of
which have worn out of the solid rock
tremendous’ cavities and gullies. The
only other season than that of the rains
is one of almost constant snow.
, The fogs of that ghastly region are ,
well worthy of the rains, being; of a
cloiid-like density, and hovering almost
continually over the whole face of the
islahd.
The sun of Desolation is usually bid
der) by a canopy oif lead coioredrClonds,
and appears, on the mre-pccaslbns when,
it is visible, scarcely brighter than yie.
moon in other latitudes. As to the
moon itself, and, the stars, the clouds
and fogs rarelyvpermu them to betray
thew existence.
, No fish worthy of note, hot even Ash
es of prey, abound in the! adjacent wa
ter), 1 by reason, perhaps, of their con
tainibg poisonous minerals, or deadly ;
exhalations from thevblcanie fires 'be--
neath them. “ 4 ‘ .
Yet thp'dark grim sea inclosing Des
olation lias done something to-repair
the stertilify of the island. '
‘ Penguins, ducks,' gnila, 'cormorants
ana other marine birds ate plentiful in’
some of its harbors.
deals also abound. ,; ..
1 Strange and terrible land I . , ’ , ,
Not e single human belhg so far as is
kiibwn has evbr lived there, saV6 as’is
to be recorded in these pages. :
-Neat the middle pf a dpli, dismal af
ternoon, some eleven] .weeks later than
the ditto * of‘ the* ptodcdlng events, the
good ship Flying' OKilders dfew rioar to
the island;of Desolation.'shaplng her
coarse toward its northermost bay,
called by Captain Cook Christmas Har
bor.
A‘ fair breeze was blowing from the
north, and the ship was carrying every
stitch of her canvass, including stud
ding-sail.
Her crew—both watches—were busy
about the deck, and her passengers—a
score in number—had gathered in
groups, mostly forward, and were gaz
ing 'with* great interest upon the wll®*
rugged shores before them, so far as the
fog suspended upon those shores per
mitted them to become visible.
The Chip had come here for water,
nearly All her water casks having Been
stpve 'a'r started during-a squall ton
days previously, and every soul aboard
of> her having been since that date up
on short allowance. * ;
Upon the quarter-deck stood Capti
Luke Peddler, looking unusually hap
py, with Will Hawley beside him.
'• 1 meau to get our water aboard be
fore dark," Captain Poddor, find' so
'avoid' losing "a- night here,"’ said- the.
young exfeoutlvei totally unconscious of
the plot to leave him alone on the. flea
olato Island, and of the extraordinary
adventures which were before him. —
The strange events that happened there,
and Indeed the whole of this thrilling
story, will be found only In the Now
York Ledger, which is now ready and
for sale at all tho book-stores and news
depots. Ask for the number dated
July 18, and In it you will get the con
tinuation pi the story from tho place
where it leaves off here.
4
3
,o