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SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXVII, NUMBER, 48.1
.PUBLISIIED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
Office in Northern Central Railroad Com-
Building, north-west corner Front and
Walnut streets.
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E.C.tue Copy per annum, if paid in advance,
sl if not paid within hree
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lisher.
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"er's risk.
Rates of Advertising.
i square [6 lines] one week,
three weeks,
each subsequent insertion, 10
1 " [l2 Hues] one week, 50
three weeks, l 00
~ each subsequent insertion, 25
Larger advertisements in proportion.
A liberal discount will be made to quarterly, hal f
rearly or yearly advertisers,who arc strictly confined
to their business.
- 113 R. LRMOR,
110IrOVEOPATIIIC PHYSICI&N. Office and
Residence in Locust street, opposite the Post
Office; OFFICE PRIVATE.
Columbia, April 25, 185743 m
Drs, John & Rohrer,
TIDE associated in the Practice of Medi-
Col umLia, April Ist, 18564 t
DR. G. W. MIFFLIN,
DENTIST, Locust street, near the Post Of
fice. Columbia, Pa.
Columbia. Nay 3, 1856.
H. M. NORTH,
A TTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW.
IX, Columbia, Pa.
Collections, i.romptly made, in Lancaster and York
Counties.
Columbia, May 4,1850.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
C:ltalizzrikaliz, .IEPor.
Columina, September 6, 1656-6"
GEORGE J. SMITII,
WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake
Baker.—Constantly on hand a variety of Cakes,
too numerous to mention; Crackers; Soda, Wine, Scroll.
and Sugar Biscuit; Confoctionery j of every description,
&c., LOCUST sTßizer,
Feb. 2,T.03. Between the Bank and Franklin House.
B. F. ALPPOL.73 & CO.,
,4'
„An,„
GENERAL FORWARDING AND COMMIS
faiffahSlON MERCHANTS, / Oa ,
RECEIVERS OF
COA LAND PRODUCE,
And Deliverers on any point on the Columbia and
Philadelphia Railroad. to York and
Baltimore and to Pittsburg;
DEALERS IN COAL. FLOUR AND GRAIN,
WHISKY AND BACON, have just received a
large lot of Monongahela Rectified Whiskey, from
ll'utshurg, of which they will keep a supply constantly
on band. ut low prices, Nos. 1,2 and Canal Basin.
Columbia, January 27.1824.-
OATS FOR SALE
BY TIIE BUSHEL, or in larger quantities
at Nos. 1,2 & 6 Canal Basin.
B. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, January . 26,1856
Just Received,
50BUS. PRIME GROUND MS, at I. F.
SMITH'S Wholesale and Retail Confectionery
establishment. Front street, two doors below the
Washington House, Columbia. [October 25, 1855.
Just Received.
20 lIHDS. SHOULDERS, 15 TIERCES HAMS.
For sale by B. F. APPOLD & CO.,
Non. 1, 2 and 6, Canal Basin.
Columbia, October 18, 1856.
Rapp's Gold Pens.
CONSTANTLY on hand, an assortment of
these celebrated PENS. Persons in want ole
good article are invited to call and examine them.
Columbia, June 30, 1855. JOHN FELIX.
Just Received,
LARGE LOT of Chlldre* Corriagex,
Gigs, Rocking Horses, Wheelbarrows, Propel.
erg, Nursery Swings, ke. GL'ORGE. J. dIdITII.
April ID, 1556. Locust street.
(NINA and other Fancy Articles, too numerous to
A.l mention, for sale by G. J. Shlllll, Locust street,
betiveen the Bunk and Franklin House.
Columbia, April ID, 1850.
/HE undersigned hare been appointed
agents for the sale of Cook & Co's GUTTA PER-
A PENS, warranted not to corrode; in e laelseity
they almost equal the quill.
SAYLOR &111cDONALD.
Columbia Jan. 17, 1857.
inst Received,
A BEAUTIFUL lot of Lamp Shades, viz: Tie
-13_ torine, Volcano, Drum. Butter Fly, Red Roses,
and the new French Fruit Shade, which can be seen
in the window or the Golden Mortar Drug Store.
November 49,1858.
ALARGE lot of Shaker Corn, from the
&baker settlement is New Ymk, just received,
at H. SUYDAM& SON'S
Columbia, Dec. 20,1856.
HAIR DYE'S. Jones' Batchelor's, Peter's and
Efrypdan hair dyes, warranted to color the hair
any desired shade, without injury to the akin. For gala
by R. WILLIAMS.
May 10, Front at., Columbia, Pa.
PARR Is THOMPSON'S justly celebrated Com
mercial and other Gold Pena—the beat in the
market—just received. P. SHREINER.
Columbia, April 28,1855.
VITRA FAMILY FLOUR, by the barrel, for
sale by D. F. APPOLD & CO,
Columbia, June 7. No;. 1,2 and 6 Canal Basin.
WHY should anyperson do without a Clock
when they can be had forsl,soand upwards
at SHREINER'S?
'Columbia, April 24,1855
SAPONEFIER, or Concentrated Lye, for ma
king Soap. 1 lb. is sufficient for one barrel of
- Soil Soap, or Ilb.for 9 lbs. hard Soap. Full direr
itions will be given at the Counter (or making Soft,
Ward and Fancy Soaps. For sale by
R. WILLIAMS.
Columbia, March 31,1855.
ALARGE lot of Baskets, Brooms, Buckets
Bru.bes, &e., for sale by H. SUYDAM h SON.
WEIKEL'S Instantaneans Yeast or Baking
Powder, for oak by H. SUYDAM & SON.
2g DOZEN BROOMS, 10 BOXES CHEESE. For
sole cheep, by B. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, October 25, 1856.
A SUPERIOR araiele or PAINT OIL, for sale by
May 10, IESB. Front S lt. WILLIAMS.
treet, Colombia, Fa
JUST RECEIVED, a large and well selected ye uety
of Brushes, conriatingsa part of Shoe, flair, Cloth,
Crumb, Nail, Hat and Teeth Brushes, and for sale by
R. WILLIA
front street Columbia, Pa.
March 72, '56
ASUPERIOR article of TONIC SPICE BITTERS,
suitable for Hotel Keepers, for sale by
M. WILLIAMS,
'Front street, Columbia.
Tlay 10,11358
IEIiRESIFI ETHEREAL OIL, always on band. and fo
j! sale by R. WILLIAMS.
May 10,1856. Front Street, Colombia, Pa.
JUST received, FRESH CAMPHENE. and for lal e
by IL WILLIAMS.
May 10,1&50. Front Street, Columbia, Pa.
1000 LBIEL Nem City Cared Flame and Moulder%
just received and for sale by
reb.9l, 1857. H. SUYDAM/lc SON.
EgEtTlj.
City and Country Spring
I bring the flowers—the bright and graceful flowers—
The fresh and fragrant Bowers, that scent the morning
$1 50
I've the snow-drop peeping chilly, with the valley's
drooping
For the bride to twine a wreath of, to deck her golden
hair.
CITY.
And I bring the bonnet—the tasty little bonnet—
The airy, munty bonnet, with its streamers long and
EMI
fair;
And the pretty girls that don it, and the Paris blossoms
02111,
For outlast your fleeting beauties, that would fade if
they were there.
COUNTILT.
!.bring the joyous birds—the gay and joyous birds—
The proud, rejoicing birds, with their carols loud and
high;
And they swell their little threats, as they trill to merry
notes,
And smoothe their plumage down for a voyage through
the sky.
Illy birds arc soaring kites—not chicken-eating kites—
But pleasure-giving kites, that our jolly boys Ist fly;
And bet a silver shilling, if your ladyship is willing ;
Thar their tails arc longer far, and their colors full as
high.
Nay, 'tie I who bring the sports—the children's lively
sports—
The noisy, healthful sports, on kind nature's grassy
floor;
Rolling hoops and bounding balls, in my last and roof
less halls,
Give (ar more hie and gladness Mau your pavements
ever bore.
Is it you who talk of hoops! surely, I have monstrous
hoops—
Yes, vast, encroaching hoops—ladies wearing each a
score.
Weirs had our balls already—it's time now to grow
steady;
But wait till Lent is over, and I'll give you one ball
more.
I bring the leaves—the young and tender leaves—
The green and fluttering leaves, waving through the
forest old.
Reviving mother earth, who rejoices at their bitch,
And clothing with new verdure, branches stripped by
winter cold.
And 1 bring the dresses—the exquisite spring dresses—
The lovely perfect dresses famed in fashion's newest
mould;
And they trail along the ground, with a dignity profound,
And mill return to dust again, 'mid mortal things
enrolled.
But we both bring the hearts—the kind and gentle hearts;
The brave and having hearts, with faith serene and
clear;
That in everldooming youth, by the light of trust and
troth,
Arc constant as the seasons, moving through their
earthly iphere.
And the winter cannot chill them ; nor summer's parch
ing kill them,
Nor autumn's faded leaf be of them the type austere;
But, with beauty ever vernal, in a spring of joy eternal'
We shall sec them bud and blossom through the soul's
unchanging year.
The Tryst
Twilight (Jowl. hire a dusky sea;
The hamlet grey in the distance drowns;
The white sheep lie on the tawny lea ?
And Alt the shepherd looks over the downs
"Lazy Effie, the tryst is pass'd!
Lazy Effie, the curfews toll!
Al,! lazy Effie, I see yuu at last
Creeping round by the shadowy knoll!
"Ohl how softly you steal on me!
Oh! how light your little feet tread!
The night is dusk, but I almost Me.
Your laughing eyes, and your stooping head
"I hear you crumple the short, crisp grass,
But I will not stir, though I feel you near,
Ttll over my eyes your hands you pass
And utter some terrible words of fear.
"Then I'll suddenly Is.ap to my feet
And kiss you over your lips and eyes,
Kiss you till you are breathless, sweet,
With mingling of laughter and surprise."
Stealthily creeps the •hndow along,
Lean and brown and all alone—
Alf sits humming a careless song
Motionless as a bowlder stone.
What dainty hand on his throat is laid?
'Tie a hairy, rough, and venerrimm paw!
And are he can utter one shriek for aid
His hot blood reddens the old wolfs maw!
The moon looks over the rim of the lea,
And EfEe's at last at the tenting place—
Oh, heart of love! what a sight to see!
The old wolf licking her lover's face!
Harper's Weekly
gstEttiDno.
The Laird's Seam.
A SCOTTISH STORY IN' SOUR CHAPTERS
CHAPTER I.
An old tumble-down house, which bad
been white, but was now relieved by sundry
grass-green-patches, stood seventy years ago
at the end of a short, straight avenue run
ning through a belt of Scotch firs; beyond
which, all around stretched as bleak and
rushy moorland as ever clad the poor wards
of Lanark. The house was not without
pretension; it aimed at being a small place
—a laird's mansion; but it had no air of
prosperity, from its name of Watery Butts
(and the winter rain lay weeks in the fur
rows of its sour, stiff clay soil) to the grey
stones rent and -shattered upon its steep
roof, the lintels of the small battered win
dows defaced and worn, the wooden work
crumbled down, and the battered door open
ing with two leaves like a cupboard. Within
there was the same evidence of narrow
means or waning fortunes; the sitting room,
originally paneled, was destitute of all more
modern pretensions to elegance, or even
comfort; the bare carpet of thick grey wool
en stuff was not superior to what might be
met with in the best room of the ono-story
farm house built on the first arable farm
beyond these moors; the table was of wain
scot, and in the light of the hearth a young
EMIR
MIMI
=WEI
Putnam's Monthly
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 6, 1857.
woman, with homely striped skirts, and
keys at her side as the mistress of the house,
sat spinning yarn from a dark polished
MEM
The mansion might have fallen into the
hands of tenant owners of the humble class
—moorland farmers, only raised a step
above their cotters--but for the central fig
ure, a man of sixty, poring, with keen eyes,
whose lashes were white as snow, over the
cobwebbed, yellow papers of the pigeon
holes in an ancient escrutoire mounted on
spindle legs and planted by the window,
occasionally laying them down to handle
with his big bony hands a few dull clipped
stones contained in the drawer of the same
repository, and compare them with a rough
basket at his feet filled with the same
smutty material. The coarse plaided toat,
the weighty peasant shoes, the tangled grey
hair, no more degraded their owner than
the ponderous, clumsy, dim frame can over
shadow a work of the painter's art.
The October sun, now setting behind
those dreary tracks, shot its rays through
the dispersed, erect, black pines, and pierc
ing the lozengecl panes, fell upon the Laird
of Watery Butts, dreaming his phantasy;
and a broad, furrowed brow of genius was
Ringan Cockburn's with sharp features,
and eyes of wonderful fire looking out be
neath their silvery brows. There was no
bleness about Ringan Cockburn that no
poverty could clog, youth that no old age
could quench. Ile was musing earnestly,
with a flush rising upon his sunken cheek;
suddenly he threw down stones and papers,
sat erect in his leather-covered elbow chair,
and called "Thrift," in tones of cheery com
mand.
Thrift Cockburn—twice Thrift Cockburn,
the old Laird's daughter and only child, and
at five and twenty the composed wife of the
laird's nephew and heir, a Cockburn of a
younger branch of the same gnarld tree—
obeyed the summons; and there side by side,
as if for comparison, were the starry light
of science—all the purer that it was less a
thing of facts than of conviction, that it was
idealized in its life-long struggle against
groping ignorance and cumbersome difficul
ties—and the lowlier, commoner, more bless
ed beam of household love, lifting as an an
gel's wings the simple, unreasoning, in
stinctive nature to the higher, stronger spirit
within whose circle it had flourishell—as if
the little social moorland lark had fluttered
fearlessly to the plumed breast of the lonely
royal eagle. Thrift Cockburn was no ex
emplification of the somewhat hard-fisted,
homely virtue, once so esteemed on Scotch
lips that it crept into a Christian appella
tion, pronounced with a benediction over i
tiny, unconscious faces in many a heathery
nook, from the Solway to the highland born
Forth and Tay. Thrift Cockburn was tall
and shapely, with a round, dimpled face,
like a scarlet streaked apple in the Both
well orchards, and eyes bluer than the
flower of the flax, which she bade her Wat
sow. It was a kindly, blithe face, with its
own peculiar bloom, that neither mildew
nor rust could wear away—that would sur
vive the carte time and care with the best,
and whose little lines of willfulness never
for a moment combatted with the great re
verence that nestled under her eurch as be
neath her maiden snood. Thrift Cockburn
could dare her domestic, long-legged, red
headed Jean; or ban the vagabond gipsy
that would facinate her with his evil eye,
while his tattered comrade lifted her grid
dle cakes or her "grey cock;" and soundly
shake her little urchin when he meddled
with his grandfather's treasures, his dried
weeds, his stones and rude wooden models.
But she had faith that never doubted her
manly Wat—faith that could lift mountains
and cast them into the sea for her grey
haired father, the beggared Laird of Watery I
Butts.
"Thrift," the Laird addressed her with
confident congratulation, "I see my way as
clear as day. When the nit's down, your
fortune's won."
"Do you say so, father'." replied Thrift,
with answering gladness, as if ste had not
heard the same story fifty times; "I'm blithe
to hear it; not but I can bear puirtith, but
you're a growing auld, and Wat will lay
aside the plow and ride with his marrows,
and wee Wat will grow up to a grand in
heritance; and you shall be honored as the
doer of all and the benefactor of the country
side, never to be lichtlied more. I'm glad
that you've found the seam."
"It's no found, lassie," interrupted the
laird, hastily; only sure to be, the metals
are the same, and they take the very dip,
and cannot be baffled by another hitch.—
No!" said Ringan Cockburn, striking the
table with his broad hand; and speaking
with a prophet's glowing certainty; "the
victory's won. I see the hill head, with the
blocks of hard, clean coal—it's parrot,
Thrift, as I'm a living man—binged house
high, and the train of carts with their Cly
desdale mares, and the stout carriers bend
, ing beneath their load, and whistling and
cracking their whips as they drive away to
their ten miles' distant homes, and the
black-a-viced, souple miners swinging in
the tubs, and receiving their bright silver
greats at the week's end. My word, the
Laird of Briary Wood, with its waving
holms of wheat and barley, wad fain Differ
with the Laird of Watery Butts; such a
hairst he will reap from his peat hags, as
Briary Wood and all his generation nirer
saw. We'll rebuild the old house, Thrift;
we'll have polices and herb gardens and
pleasure gardens. Young Wat will get col-
ledge learning, and sit lirthe Lyndon Par
liament, and maintain the rights of Scotland,
and counsel King George;'and, lassie, I'll
lay down my weary - bones and dee in
peace."
"Dinna speak o' deein, father," cried
Thrift, "with fortune at the door; gin Wat
were but in to hear the news."
"They have termed me a fule and a mad
man, Thrift," continued Ringan Cockburn,
unheeding her; "gentle and simple have
charged me with wasting your means; they
have said I would bring you to want and
misery, and now, with the Lord's will,
their children's children will owe me their
bread." , •
"The Lord has blessed you, father," ex
claimed Thrift, devoutly; be has given to
you to return gude for evil."
"Ile gave one a gude bairn, Thrift," res
ponded her father, affectionately, "that
never failed me in my Troubles, and that
can now rejoice wi' me when my jewel's
found."
"Father," pleaded Thrift,, wistfully, "Wat
never said you nay."
The Laird patted her comely cheek and
smiled. Wat's a long-sighted chap, and has
a wife and a wean to protect, and he's been
patient, forbyeydent; I'm content."
"But when will the coal be howkit, and
the country side toll'd and the crowns in
place of bodies in our purse?" den.anded
Thrift.
The laird looked down reprovingly.—
"Bairn, Rome wasna built in,ae day—it's a
far cry to Lochawe—yet it's yonder, Thrift,
nyont the blue hills; I saw it since, and it's
wild swans and kilted clans, when I teas a
'addle, and Rob Roy yet brattled over the
vale of Monteith, and there was word of
axes and claymores instead of picks and
shools. The pit is not sunk to its last
fathom, there mean be- gude hire to trans
form mair hedgers and ditchers into miners
and banksmen, and but a cauld coal to blow
at in the meantime." The Laird reflected.
"Ay, it's never darker than afore dawn."
Thrift's gleeful face fell, though she strov e
not to be daunted, and would cling to the
bright certainty that had been presented to
her fur one moment to be wrested the next
from her grasp.
"It will be but a few shifts mair, father,
and when Wet is convinced that'success is
so nigh—"
The Laird's brow contracted.;
"Wit's honest, but he is dull, and be
grows thrawn, and it is ill to stoop to my
younger brither's orphan son."
"Ohl father, dinna blame Wat; ho wad
work Or want for you, .ony day; but he's
ower anxious and he's ill-advised," pleaded
Thrift, faithfully.
"And my arms are stiff, and the day's
gone by when there was no want o' hands
to maw the hay, and cut the oats, and dig
the pests for the Moister of the Watery
Butts; and my fellows look askant on me
at kirk and at market, and hold puir Wat
no better than a grieve or a plowman, and
wonder at his puir spirit that jowks to my
maggots. That's the way o't Thrift, and
sirs, its high time it were ended."
A new impulse swayed Thrift; she threw
her arms round her father's neck. "How
daur they, father, how daur they?" she sob
bed, "you that were aye ower gude and,
wise, and never waured a plack on ae sin,
and labored for the weal o' sue a'. Oh, how
can they?"
The Laird clasped his hands, and looked
straight before him with frank pride. "Ay,
Thrift, I showed them how to bore the well
at the Ponds; I bade Willie Lumsden straw
limo on his barren rigs and this day they
bear twofold. I planted scores o' elms and
beeches that 'will grow when we are sleep
ing,' and wave their green tops when Wet
and you are threescore; I have built a mill,
though my red land's no great; I've had
neep seed and grass seed frae foreign lands;
the best is but little, but I've done my best,
though I impoverished myself to enrich the
beechen bog that's a slough of despond to
this hour; and the yellow sandstones of my
quarry were =Liverish as snuff ere they
had been months exposed to sun and wind.
"And you have dealt aumouses father, to
the sick and infirm; and you gave your
barn to the tramping preacher, that Briery
Wood and Clay Gates drove off their lands."
CIIAPTER IL
The Laird had donned his grey cloak and
blue bonnet, and was out in the tempestu
ous October twilight, plodding, with bent
head, but unrelaxing foot, to the ruddy fire
that, like a beacon at sea, burned night
and day on one spot on the waste, there to
hold his visit.
The summer bud been cold nod wet,
And stuff was unto green.
And on the moorlands of Watery Butts,
the hardy reapers were yet cutting down
the crop that, in spite of the Laird's cape
riments, the winter snow might surprise a
field. Wat Cockburn was superintending
their laborers.
Thrift's satellite, Jean, was an out-worker.
Thrift was alone at her warm hearth, the
windows rattling and the clouds drifting
without—alone save for little Wat, who sat
in his corner marshalling flocks and herds
of the dry, brown, empty husks of field peas,
and knobbed fir-tops. Thrift spun and pon
dered, rose to set the great pot on the kitch
en fire, and to mingle and stir his warm
wholesome mess; but it was•not of the tired
harvest bands she thought,-or even of Wat's
coming in cold and hungry from his days's
toil. Thrift dwelt upon her father's words
with the pertinacity of a temper early im-
hued with a portion of the Laird's ardor,
and an affection made up of respect and
protecting fondness. The Laird had been
an abstracted, singular, scheming man all
his life; and, in spite of the unselfishness of
his motives and actions, and the occasional
flashes of good fortune which he caught, he
was demurred at by his cotemporaries, as
men, like water, will love a dead level and
an old channel. Thrift knew better. Thrift
humored him far more than if he had been
proven worldly wise, instead of crack-brain-
ed. Thrift was fond of him as one is fond
of an object peculiarly his own, with wants
and weakenesses to be softly covered with a
holy mantle. In many respects (whisper it
not in the ears of sultans,) Thrift was more
engrossed with her father than her husband,
although she had married Wat from true
love, and was a faithful, tender wife, be
cause Wat was independent of her—l Vat
was strong, she was but his weaker help
mate.
Thrift studied and re-studied her house
hold resources; she would fain aid her father
in his strait, contribute to the remotest
chance of his fulfilling his lung proclaimed
feat. The peril and precariousness of his
undertaking had their own hold on her wo
man's imagination; she felt (but probably
in a keener degree) like Royal Isabella
when she pledged her crown jewels and be
stowed the moneys on the voyager Colum
bus. Blessings on woman's faith! It may
have stranded many a deluded bark, but it
has also landed many a good ship--the
rudder gone, the hold sprung aleak. But
Thrift was sorely puzzled, her means were
so very small, and there were gaps innumer
able for the price of the first sold grain;
thtre were servants' wages, and needful re
pairs and groceries, and wearing apparel,
beside old accounts to be looked to. Wet,
too, had long disapproved of the Laird's
proceedings, and now it was scarcely to be
hoped that, in order to promote them in
their extremity, he should again relinquish
the better part of his particular earnings
and the capital on which the family depen
ded for all foreign aid during the long win
ter. Wat was so twitted for facility of tem
per
and weakness of will by his thoughtless,
complacent acquaintances that he might be
driven to assert his prerogative to the ut
most.
At last a project occurred to her, though
it was humble—so humble that the little
bit of pride in Thrift's warm heart cried out
against it, and had to be silenced by the
brave doctrine to which she had listened
from childhood—that honest means, howe
ver plain and poor, are dignified and graced
the moment they are applied to a high end.
"My father and Wat, though Watery
Butts and its title deeds have belonged to
our forbears sin, the memory of man, have
not thought it shame to cast off their coats
mony a day, and slave for me. I will put
on my red mantle, and fill my basket with
butter, and eggs, and young chickens, and
banks of yarn, and maybe some napery,
and carry it into the merchants of Raven-
Eton. I havens' mony acquaintances to for
gather wi', and what need I heed though
they say there's the Leddy o' Watery Butts
forced, puir woman, to bode away her own
gear like ony cadger's wife trampin' wi' her
creel? Jean canna be spared, and wad mak
no bargain. I see na, though I were war
lock, bow else I could earn a penny."
Thrift would conceal her simple devise
from the Laird; she would start in the morn
ing before he was astir, but over night she
must confide it to Wat, and obtain his con
sent. She first settled the minutia) of her
plan as she spun by her lamp, while Wat
read his old newspaper and attended to the
horse-watering. After her father had re
turned
from 'the sinking,' and partaken of
the frugal supper; when Jean, leading her ;
male squad of plow-boy and herd boy, had
entered, to profit by the "worship" which
rose so quaintly and soothingly—Thrift's
clear voice leading the psalm, Wat's deep
tones chiming in, Ringan's impressive brok
en bass uttering lofty verse and reverent
prayer; then, when servants were dismissed,
and Ringan had,tctired to rest, and little
\Vat, with his-brown cheek pressed against
his pillow, and his chubby band still grasp
ing his fir tops, slept the dreamless sleep
of infancy; and Thrift and Wat sat beside
their own ingle and talked in the fearless
confidence of man and wife, heart knit to
heart in the closest, kindest bonds—then
Thrift unfolded her little secret, and plead
ed her cause with her hand on Wat's knee,
and her blue eyes on his face. But Wat'l,
ear had been poisoned, and his heart steeled,
his very love for the speaker hardening the
more against her enterprise.
Wet Cockburn was thoroughly frank,
manly and true hearted, as he was a hand
some fellow, with a warm Gothic tint of
complexion and hair, but he had Gothic
traits in mind as well as body; he was not
bright, he was not deep, he was slow, poor
fellow, in intellect, though excitable in tem
per; and like most people who acquire an
idea by inches and frequently at second
hand, he was exceedingly hard to dispos
sess of a notion once imbibed; he was apt
to be stubborn. 'With all sincere regret for
the laird, he had allowed himself to become
convinced that the laird's perpetual drain
ing, planting, building and boring, was an
infatuation which, with his declining finan
ces and the nature of Watery Butts, would
land the household in ruins.
Now the laird could do what he chose
with his own, but with Wat lay what might
be called the executive power exerted on the
$1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE,
fields; besides when he first came to Watery
Butts from another county, to introduce
himself to his relations, and to be won by
l and win Thrift, he had sunk his little patri
mony on the family property—and Ringan
Cockburn, with all his scheming, was sim
ple and candid as a child in admitting ano
ther man's claims, however they might in
terfere with the consuming pursuit of the
phantoms of his busy brain. For the last
few months there had been a secret strug
gle at Watery Butts, almost harder to suffer
than open contention, seeing that it was be
tween those who had till now been kith and
kin in hearts as well as in blood: stolid op
position, grudging concessions, from \Vat,
met by impatience and half s&)rn and sore
ness of spirit from the laird; \Vat growing
ever more dogged, the laird mere resentful,
only Thrift, like a house pigeon, flying be
tween. Perhaps Wet, manly as he was,
had his own unsuspected littleness in the
matter of Thrift's enamourment of her fa
ther; at least it was as his Thrift that he
would not hear of her journey to Ravenston,
a seller, not a buyer; it should never be
said that he could not support his wife by
the sweat of his brow; that while Watery
Butts was theirs, or he retained the use of
his stout hands, she was driven to such
shifts.
It was in vain that Thrift reminded him
that, according to country tradition, Sir Al
lan's daughter, who had wedded a Cock
burn in their palmy days, on the temporary
forfeiture of their estate during historical
reverses, a misfortune from which they
never recovered—better the whole had gone
than the restoration of the mere haggs of
Watery Butts—the widow and her daugh
ter had for n time maintained themselves
by plaiting rush mats in a neighboring, cot
tage. Wet would acknowledge no prece
dent; there was necessity in their case, but
none in hers; she might be thankful while
he was spared. For the laird and his mag
gots, he was a good man, but he was flying
in the face of Providence; it was time he
listened to reason.
Thrift was keenly mortified and disap
pointed. She longed to abet her father in
his need; she could not bear that Wat
should secede to the side of his detractors;
she piqued herself on her influence with
Wat, and this was the first time it had fail
ed since he had come among them, so strap
ping and sincere, so industrious and affec
tionate, since they_ held their trysts where
the purple iris and the golden marsh mari
gold gave a July splendor to the lonely
water stealing across the grey moor; and
Thrift remembered sundry rash pledges and
doting declarations into which even sober
Wat Cockburn had plunged in the heat of
his malady, and felt a very ill used and in
dignant woman sitting with her arms tight
ly crossed, and her eyes smarting in the
fire-light, with Wat at her side, one great
block of cold, cruel opposition, yet glancing
slyly down at her, and inwardly groaning
under the smiting of his conscience—for
the vanquished do not always bear away
the only or the severest wound in the Con -
flict.
tlt
PRIVATE TREATRICALS.—In a theatre of
the Faubourg St. Honore a comedy of the
Theatre Francais was to be given. The ha
portant role of a soubrette was undertaken
by a very intellectual and lovely young lady
—Mad. de F.—who had obtained, not with
out difficulty, the permission of her husband
—a man of little taste for the theatre, and
only half satisfied to sec: his wife on the
boards. Two or three times he attempted
to withdraw his permission in the excess of
discontent with which he was siezed, etery
time he saw his wife go out to the rehearsal
at twelve o'clock, to return at five. The
rehearsals go on very slowly and very care
fully in the great world.
It is to be understood that the husband
was not admitted to the rehearsals, as no
one isreceived there as in the public theatres,
—no one not concerned in the piece.
However, impelled by a restless curiosity,
he succeeded in being present at the grand
rehearsal by bribing a scene shifter. liming
slipped behind the stage, he arrived just at
the moment when his wife was in a dialogue
with a handsome young man of his acquaint
ance, and where Frontin, movingly address
ed, replied by planting the most sonorous
kiss on the cheek of Lisette which has ever
been recorded in the traditions of high com
edy preserved at the conservatoire.
"I will not have that," cried suddenly an
unexpected voice, and the husband showed
himself in all his majesty in the midst of
the general stupefaction.
Ho thundered anew to leave out the kiss.
which was objected to,—being found in the
text, and formally exacted by the author.
"No matter, omit it:"
"But it is indispensable!"
"There are four like that," resumed n
lady, maliciously, who had the role of the
grand coquette to play,"und none of them
can be omitted; it would chill the perform
ance."
"Four:" exclaimed the husband, in con
sternation, reckoning that this was the thir
ty-second rehearsal, and consequently one
hundred and twenty-eight kisses had been
given to Lissette.
"Resume the play," said the manager,
"we are losing our precious time."
"Give the role to another actress," said
H. de F„ "my wife will play no more."
"How? It is impossible; it is too late to
mate a change; we play to-morrow."
'!lt is all we to me: do what you like."
[WHOLE NUMBER, 1,401.
The contest became warmer; M. de F fa-
rious.; the actors overwhelm him with re
proaches and indignation; Lisette faints
away; conveyed to her carriage; the coach
man smacks the whip; the representation
will nut take place.
The Social Tread-Kill
No.
"MR. Prsert—l promised to devote an en
tire letter to Wedding Breakfasts. It is not
so much that these entertainments are more
j dreary than the rest of the table ceremonies,
under whieh society- suffers. On the eon
trary, except or the plague of speechifying,
they would be rather jullier than most of
our social gatherings: but the wedding
breakfast stands in the front rank of the
married man's experiences. It is like those
rites which used to come first in the initia
-1 tion of a novice into the ancient mysteries.
,or secret societies of the middle ages, its
which the greenhorn was made to run the
gauntlet of the must hideous hobgoblins.
and the must startling surprises. Such an
introduction was supposed at once to case
harden the candidates nerve's, and to test
his courage. On the same principle one
may suppose the newly married man is ex
posed to the green-grucerism, the G unterism.
the champagne-fired enthusiam and speech
itication, the stale and threadbare pleasau
' tries, the mock-sentiment, and pinchbeck
cordiality of the welding breakfast. It is
I a quintessence, as it were, of what he wilt
have to go through in the future, in the
way of costly and pretentious entertainment,
affected good fellowship and hollow gaiety.
If he can stand those awful waiters—the
array of those long tables, with their spun
sugar bird-cages, and plaster-of-Paris tem
ples—their profusion of highly decorated
pastry, forced fruit, glace tongues, insipid
chickens, chilly galantines, and ice creams;
if he is not sickened with the speeches, and
and does not loathe champagne forever after
he may be safely pronounced fit for the
inner rites of the married life of society.
"But the performances in the mysteries
will be found, on the whole, 'duller than
those of the initiation. The bead still
dances in the champagne of wedding break
fasts. The liquor handed round at the
dinners, and breakfasts and suppers, of
which that is the prelude, will be found flat,
insipid—dead as ditch water. I always
feel that there is something significant in
the general chilliness of the viands at a
wedding breakfast. You detect a gelatinous
character about the feast. Your fun, like
your fruit, is forced. The very wedding
cake has its emblematic icing—for so I be
lieve, the highly decorated crust, apparently
compounded of sweetened gypsum and prus
sic acid, is styled by the confectioners.—
There is good fruit and aromatic spice under
that most indigestible and snowy covering.
whereof none can eat and live. What a
good, and sweet, and sustaining thing mar
riage is in itself. Why do re invest it in
king? Why hide its sweetness and its
spices—its misture of currants and lemon
peel, and its substratum of honest flour, un
der a hard shell of pasty ceremonial, flour
ished all over with shallow devices in con
fectioner's taste? Why - do we all put our
necks under the heel of Gunter? Why
allow cur simple pleasures to be dashed by
the awful pre.ence of those white cravated
waiterss-liumen ides of the chair-back, each
shadowing forth the "...ticznesis of the bill to
pay?
"But worse than the cold breakfast are
the speeches. Which of us has not groaned
under this infliction? So far as I know,
every one admits that these wedding break
fast orations arc aa intolerable nuisance. I
don't know which of the prevailing styles
of this class of oratory is worse, the pathetic
or the jocose, or the floundering which aims
at a combination of grave and gay, and
comes to grief between the two. There is
that dreadful friend of the family, who pro
poses the health of the young couple. Why
can't he be content to do it simply, to utter
in six. words of honest meaning, a hearty
wish that happiness may attend them—that
God may bless their union? Every one, if
appealed to, must admit you can't get be
yond that. No person—one would suppose,
who really felt a genuine regard for the
pair, or for either of them, would wish at
such time to attempt more than a brief and
fervent blessing.
"Yet here is a well-meaning Briton—no
fool, probably, in his business—not a recog
nized bore in common life—not an open and
notorious humbug, hypocrite and imposter
—who gets up to propose the health of the
newly-married couple, or the health of their
respective Papas and Mammas; and in so
'doing maunders fur a quarter of an hour in
a style that blends folly, tediousness and
insincerity, till you blush for the man
as you sit. My readers may have ob.
qerced—l often have—the expression of
pain and shame on the countenances of
the listeners to "a discourse of this class.
I always long to hide toy face while one
of these melancholy exhibitions is in pro
gress. I believe, from comparing notes
with others, that this feeling is very oem-
121311
"But worse even than this—the heavy
business of the wedding-breakfasts—is its
light comedy, the hide-bound pleasantry of
the gentleman who rises to propose 'the
bridesmaids,' and similar provocative toasts.
in what the reporters call a 'highly humor
ous speech.'
"Of the many forms of menial sufferings I
I=ll