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SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXVII, NUMBER ot.)
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
Office in Northern Central Railroad Coin
zany's Building, north-west corner Front and
siirainue streets.
Terms of Subscription.
Maw Ce
4 py per annum, if paid in•adrance
41 1.• if not paid within ;time
.months from commencement of the year, 200
414 4:7oza.tiss zi, Glicsicryr.
'No subscription received for a less time than six
months; and no paper wilt be discontinued until all
strrearuges are paid, unless at the option of the pub
lisher.
irrktoney may be remitted by mail at the publish
4r's risk.
Bates of Advertising.
I square [0 lines] one week,
tt` three weeks,
•. each subsequent insertion, to
1 " • (12 Hues] one week.
three weeks, 1 00
~a each subsequent Insertion, 25
Lnirger adverthement. an 'proportion.
A Isbeval diAcouni will be made to quarterly, half
yearly .or yearly adverfisemwbo ere otrletly confined
to their ilUAllleera
DR. 8. ARMOR,
lIOWEOPATIIIC MUSICIAN. Office and
Re ,drnee in Locust street, opposite the Post
Office; OFFICE PRIVATE.
Colombo', April 25, 1557-6 m
Drs. John & Rohrer,
"JAYE associated in the Practice of ,Medi
a jLc .
Columbia, April lat,lS5G-li
DR. G. W. MIFFLIN,
DENTIST, Locust street, opposite the Post
Office. Columbia, Pa.
Columbia. May 3, 1856.
H. M. NORTH,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW.
Columbia, Pa.
Collections, p romptly made, in Lancaster and Yorlc
Counties.
Columbia, May 4,1850.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
, Ccaizannlbier,
Columbia, tiepiember ti, 16• ti
GEORGE J. SMITH,
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; Confectionery, of every description,
he., l.c. LOCUST STREET,
Feb. 2,'56.
_Between the Bank and Franklin House.
.A.PPOIX dir. CO.,
"..5.17.7"
GENERAL FORWARDING AND COMMIS
lasagaSlON MERCHANTS, 4 6 6 3 4.,
RECEIVERS OF
COA. LAND PRODUCE,
AIN/ Deliaerers 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, hove just received a
large lot of Monongahela Rectified Whiskey, from
Pittsburg, of which they will keep. supply constantly
on band. at low prices. Nos. 1, 2 and 6 Canal Basin.
Columbia. January 27. 1254.
0 ATS FOR SALE
BY TAE BIJSIIEL, or iu larger quantities,
at Nos. 1, 2 do 6 Canal Main.
B. P. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, January 0, 1856
Just Received,
BUS. PRINIR GROUND NUTS, at J. F.
v SMITH'S NV hole.. lc and Retail Confectionery
emublishment. Front litreet, two door~ below the
Wa.bington Home, Columbia. [October 05. Mid.
Just Received,
20 MIDS. SHOULDERS, IS TIERCEA HAMS.—
For sale by 11. F. APPOLD & CO.,
Nos. 1., 2 aatl6, Canal Basal.
Columbia, October IA, 1.146.
Rapp's Gold. Pens.
CONSTANTLY on band, an assortment of
there celebrated PENS. Pergrong In Nrant'of a
good article are invited to calland examine them.
Columbia, June 34, 1855. JOHN FELIX.
Just Received,
AILARGE LOT of Children's Carriages,
- Vigs.. - Rogkingliorses; Wheelbarrows. Pr.-pe
ers, unwry Swings., ilce. GEORGE. J. r3hlren.
April 19,1856. -- • *. • Locust street.
nINA and other Fancy Articles. too numerous to
C
mention, for sale by Locust street,
between the Bank and Frmiklin House.
Columbia, April I% 11356; -
A.THE , nndeisigned • have' been appointed
agents for the sale of Coot & Co's GOTTA PER
PENS, warranted not to corrode; in a laulicity
they almost equal the quill. '
SAYLOR & McDONALD.
Co lamb ia Jan. 17,1857:
Just Received.,
A BEAUTIFUL lot of Lamp Shades, AM
Vie
tortne, Volcano. Drum. Butter Fly. Red ROPCS,
and the new French Fiatt: shade, which can be been
in the window of the Golden Mortar Drug Store.
November 22,1856.
A LULU. lot of Shaker can, from the
Shutter settlement in New Yoilc.juet received,
11. SUYDAM & SON'S
Columbia, Dec. 20,1856
Alit DYE'S. Janes' Batchelor's, Peter's aad
Eftyptisit hair dyes, warranted to color the hair
any deeired shade, without injury to the skin. For sale
by
M It WILLIAMS.
ay In, Front i t . , Columbia, Pa.
FAGS & THOMPSON'S justly celebrated Cam
mereial and other Gold Pent— ' , he beat in the
marker—jum received. P. BFittEINER.
Columbia. April 24. 1P55.
VITRA_ FAMILY FLOUR, by the barrel, for
sale by II: F.. A YrOLII de: CO;
Colunain. Jane 7. No•. 1,2 and 6 Canal Baal n.
WAY shonld.anyperson do without a Clock,
when they can be had for WA and upwards.
at SHREINER'S!
Columbia, April 29, t 855
QAPONEFIER, or Concentrated Lye, for ma
king Soap. I lb.. is sufficient for one barrel of
iSofl Soup, or Ilb.for 9 Ihs. Bard Soap. Full direr
aions Will be given at the Counter for making Soft,
glard and Fancy Soaps. For sale by
rt. WILLIAMS.
Marah3l, 1855.
ALARGE lot of Baskets, Brooms, Buckets
Brushes, &c,, for sale by H. SUYDAM & SON.
W.BBlBL i rliistantaneons Yeast ir Baking
Powder, for role by 11. SUYDLM & ON.
20DOZEN BROOMS, 10 BOXES Per
sale,cheap, by B. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia,tactobet 23, 1858.
A SUPERIOR ionic' te-ofPAINT OIL. for Pale by
• R.rW ILIAA MS.
Front s.t.treet, Columbia, Pa.
' May 10, 1 E
JUST RECIMVED, a large and well selected variety
of Brushes. COUPi.ling in part ofSboe, Hair, Cloth,
Cro*, Nail, Hat and Teeth Brushes. end for sale by
R. WILLIAMS,
Front street Colombia. Pi.
March 22, MG
ASUPERIOR article. of TONIC SPICE BITTERS.
limitable for Hotel Keepers, for sale by
R. WILLIAMS. :
May 10,1E03. Front street. Colombia.
'DRUM ETWIJIM alwita*3l2:lToY;jiind
wale by R. WILLIAMS.
May 10,10.54. .Froailltreet;lColasabia.
j iirE y q seeeliad, PRES and for sale
R. WILLIA MS.
May te, Frani Street,Calambia, Pa.
1000 lie, City Cared Hama. and Shoulder*,
Just recurred and formate I±l
Feb. St , 19.77. a BUYDAM &SON.
Ligttrg.
Early Rising
“God bless the man who first invented sleep!”
So Sancho Panza said, and so say I;
And ble - ss hiM also, that he didn't keep
Ilts•great discovery to himself; or try
To make it—as the lucky fellow might—
A close monopoly by '.patent right:"
Si 50
Yes—bless the man who first invented sleep
(I really can't avoid the iteration);
But blast the man with curses loud and deep,
What'er the raseal's name, or age, or station,
Who first invented, and went round advising,
That artificial cut-Ml—early rising:
*0 39
"Rise with the lark, and with the lark to hed,"
Observes some solemn sentimental owl—
Maxims likes these are very cheaply said;
lint ere you make yourself a fool or fowl,
Pray just inquire about their riser—nod fall, .
And whether larks have any beds at all!
The "time for honest folks to be abed,"
Is in the morning, if I reason right;
And he who cannot keep his precious head
- Upon his pillow till it's fairly light,
And so enjoy his forty morning winks,
Is up—to knavery; or else—he drinks!
Thomson, who sung about the "Seasons," said,
It was a glorious thing?) rise in season;
But then he said it—lying—in his bed
At ten o'clock A. M.,—the very reason
Fie wrote so charmingly. The simple fact is,
Pis preaching wasn't sanctioned by his practice
'Tim doubtless, well to be sometimes awake—
Awake to duty, and awake to truth—
But when, alas' a nice review we take
Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth,
The hours, that leave the slightest cause to weep,
Are those we passed in childhood, or—asleep.
'Tis beautiful to leave the World awhile
For the soft visions of the gentle night;
And free, at last, from mortal cure or guile ;
To live. as only in the angels' sight,
In sleep's sweet realm so cosily shut in,
Where, at the worst, we only dream of sin!
So, let us sleep, and give the Maker praise;
I like the lad who, when his father thought
To clip his morning nap by hackneyed phrase
Of vagrant worm by early songster caught,
Cried, "Served him right!—its not at all surprising—
The worm was punished, Sir, for early rising!"
[Purnam's Monthly.
Rachel Lies in Ephrath's Land
I=
And Rachel lies in Entireties land.
Beneath her lonely oak of weeping'
With mouldering heart and withering hand,
The sleep of death for ever sleeping.
The spring comes smiling down die valo r
The lilies and the roses bringing;
But Rachel never more shall hail
The dowers that in the world are springing.
The summer gives his radiant day.
And Jewish dames the dance are treading;
But Rachel on her couch of clay,
Sleeps all unheeded and unheeding.
The autumn's ripening sunbeam shines.
And reapers to the field is calling;
But Raehers voice no longer joins
The choral song at twilight's falling.
The winter sends his drenching shower,
And sweeps his howling blast ardund her;
But eurthly storms possess no power
To break , the slumber that bath bound her.
grtrttigno.
The Two Cousins
"He didn't care much about it," he said:
"they might marry him, if they liked, and
to whom they liked, provided he was not ex
pected to make love. Give him his hookah
and a volume of Shelley, and really, wife
or no wife, it was almost the same to him.
By the by one thing he must stipulate for—
that she should not hunt or talk slang."
This Launcelot Chumley said, yawning—
although it was only twelve o'clock, yet it
was ten before he came down to breakfast—
and, sauntering from the drawing room
through the open window on to the lawn,
he stretched himself under the shadow. of
the chesnut trees to dream vague poems all
the day after; a mode of ezistenee that
seemed•to. him to-fulfill theTseered destiny
of his being. . ,
Launcelot Churnley was a spoilt child.—.
A spoilt child full of noble thoughts and
generous impulses tarnished' by prosperity,
and choked for want of stimulants to exer
tion; he was also vain for want of. whole
some opposition. Provided people left hiin
alone, they might do as they liked, he used
to say. Let them not disturb - his books,
nor cut'dovni the chestnut trees on the lawn,
nor break his pipes, nor Asti load, 'ribr
make a noise, and he was perfectly satisfied.
His indifference and indolence drove his
mother to despair. §he tried to tempt him
to exertion by dazzling visions_ of distinc
tion. But Launcelot prided himself on his
want of ambition, andvowed that he would
not accept a dukedom if offered to him; ft
would be such a bore! His mother had in
deed 4otie her best to ruin him by unmiti
gated indulgence; and now she Wrung her
bands at her own work. But, as something
must be done, she bethought herself of a
marriage -which, woman like, she fancied
would cure everything—indolence, vanity,
selfishness.
Mrs. Chumley bethought her of a mar
riagd—but with whom?
There were in London two Chumley cou
sins, Ella Liniple and little Violet Tudor.—
These two young ladies wore great friends
after the fashion of young ladies generally.
They, had mysterious confidences together,
and wrote wonderful letters.; Ella Limplc,
being or pathetic and setimental tempera
ment,- talked of sorrow and sadness; and
said there was no more happiness- for her
on earth, there being something she eoubd
never forget' though none knew_what. Vio
let Tudor,: her bosom friend, laughed-at all
sentiment, and expressed•'a by contempt
for levers.; She vowed also,that- she would
never marry a less man than a lion king or
a general who bad seen severe service and
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO.UHEAP-AS REAIao,..NOR.:ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING:"
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATITIWAY MORNING; JULY . 4, 1857.
been wounded badly, and, then she did not
know—perhaps she might. ror Violet rode
blood horses, and once pronounced an Indi
an officer a "muff," because ho had never
seen a tiger hunt. An expression that caus
ed that gentleman to blush and to feel that
kind of anger which is, among his own sex,
usually assuaged in a duel.
It may be imagined, therefore, that Mrs.
Chumley did not place Miss Violet Tudor
very high in her scale of feminine graces;
although she certainly did not know one
half of that curly headed gipsy's escapades.
Consequently she was passed over at once.
Ella was, on the contrary, all that Mrs.
Chumley wished; young, pretty, mild, man
ageable; with stainless pedigree, and unex
ceptionable manners. What more could
any mother demand fur her son! Mrs:
Chumley sent by that day's post an affec-,
tionate invitation asking Ella to pass a. week
with her, much to Ella's surprise and pleas
ure. Fur cousin Launcelot bad long been a
kind of hero in that young lady's imagina
tion; and she was glad to be asked to meet
him. "Though dearest Vi knows that noth
ing could make me forget poor Henry, all
alone in those terrible East Indies!" ehe
mentioned in the letter which communicated
the circumstance to her bosom friend. Out
of curiosity then she accepted the invitation;
and, in less than a week she found herself
at High Ashgrove, with all her prettiest
dreises and her last new bonnet.
Ella's correspondence with Violet Tudor
increased overwhelmingly during the visit.
The early letters were gay, for her; but
soon they deepened into a nameless melan
choly, and were rife with mysterious hints.
Occasionally there burst forth in them the
most terrible self-accusings that English
words could frame. If she had become the
head of a society of coiners, or the high
priestess of a heresy, she could not have
used stronger expressions of guilt. Violet
was frightened at first; but she remembered
that it was Ella's habit to indulge in all
sorts of exaggerated self-accusations. At
last cane a letter, , which unveiled the mys
tery, reducing the sphynx that devoured
men's bones to a tame dog that stole his
neighbor's cream—the usual ending of most
young ladies' mysteries. "I do not know
what my dearest Violet will think of her
Ella—but if it is to be the death blow of
that long and tender love which has sup
ported my sad heart through so many hitter
trials, I must tell her the truth. Violet, I
have broken my vows, and am deserving of
the fate of Imogen in that dreadful ballad.
Poor dear Henry!"
"Violet, love, I am engaged to my cousin
Lau ncelo t."
"My aunt made me the offer so suppli
catingly," and Launcelot said b 0 sweetly:
'I think you will make me a very nice. wife,
Miss Limple,' that I could not resist. Be
sides, cousin Launcelot is very handsome;
that goes a great way. You know I always
found fault with poor dear Henry's figure;
he was inclined to be too stout; Launcelot's
figure is perfect. He is tall—six feet I
should think—and with the most graceful
manners possible. Ile is like a picture—
has very brown light hair, all in thick curls
not short and close like poor dear Henry's.
He wears them very long, like the portraits
of Raphael. Henry's hair, poor darling,
was inclined to be red. His eyes are large
and dark gray, with' such a beautiful 'ex
pression of melancholy in them. They are
poems in themselves, Violet. Now Henry's
you know, were hazel; and hazel eyes are
unpleasant—they are so very quick and
fiery. I like such eyes as Launcelot's—met.
ancholy, poetic eyes, that seem to feel and
think as well as to. see.' Hazel eyes only
see. Don't you know the difference? He
is Very quiet,,lies all day under the trees
smoking out of the most exquisite hookah,
and repeating Shelly: dote oil Shelly,
and bate Shakspeare. • How fond Henry
was of Shakspearel—that wearisome Ham
let! And now her own Ella is going to beg
and pray of her dearest Violet to come here
as soon as possible. I enclose a note from
aunt Cliumley, asking you; and darling Vi,
1 - will never forgive you if you don't come
direoi.ly. For na lovor,in the world could
Hever separate me froM my own :Violet. If
you don't come, I shall think you.are angry
with me for my bad conduct to poor Henry;
and indeed I feel . hoW guilty 1 am. I had
such a. terrible - dream of him last night. I
thought•helooked so pale:and reproachful,
just like his favorite Hamlet. Good bye. I
can't write another word; • for aunt wants
me to go to the village 'with her. Do come,
dearest Violet, and come immediately.”-
This letter delighted Ella's friend. She
had never liked the flirtation with Cornet
Henry Dampier, which she had thought
tery silly and sentimental; while this seem
ed to offer a real future. She wrote to her
aunt—of whom she was considerably afraid;
and in a few days arrived at High Ashgrove.
She was received by Ella with a burst of
enthnsiam, which, coming from one so calm,
quite electrified Launcolot; by aunt Chumley
with no superflous kindness; and, by Laun
celot himself with a cold - bow. Yet she
was pretty' enough. The thick raven hair,
which it her will and pleasure .to wear
crowding over black eyes that never rested
fora moment, her tiny hand, her fabulous
waist, her light airy figure, her wide red
lips, and her untameable, vivacity, made
her appear like a wild bird alighting on the
steps of that still, lazy,' and gentlemanlike
house.
Far the fiast two days Violet behaved
herself-with perfect propriety. She embroi-
tiered more than two square inches of Ber
lin work, and did not make a single alluiion
to the stables. She fell aslcep only twice
when Launcelot condescended to read aloud
the mistiest parts of Queen Mab, and she
tried hard to look as if she understood what
Epipsychidion was all about. Poor little
woman! She knew as much about either as
if cousin Launce, as she called him, had in
formed her in the native dialect of the glo
ries of the Anax Andron; or ns if he had
told her how arms and tpe,mtin were sung
at Mantua long ago. But this state of things
could not last long. Old habits and in
stincts entered their protest, and Violet
Tudor felt that she must be natural or she
should die. LauneelOt said that she was
noisy, and made his heiid ache; and he
changed his resting place for one further
from the house, complaining of Miss Tu
dor's voice, which he declared was - like - a
bird's whistle, that penetrated his brain.—
This he said to his mother languidly, at the
same time asking when she was : going away
again.
"You don't keep horses, cousin Laiance
lot?" Violet said on the third morning at
breakfast, raising her eyelids and fixing
her eyes for an instant on him.
"Not for ladies, Miss Tudor," said Latin
celot.
"Why do you call me Miss Tudor?" she
asked again. "I am your own cousin. It
is very rude of you!"
"I should think myself very impertinent
if I called you by any other name," return
ed Launcelot still more coldly.
"How odd! Aunt, why is cousin Laun
celot so strange?"
"I don't know what yon mean, Violet,"
said Mrs. Chumley, a little sternly; "I think
you are strange—not my son!"
An answer that steadied the eyes for
some time; for Violet looked rebuked, and
wondering how she had deserved 'rebuke.
A. moment after Ella asked Lituncelot for
something in her gentle, quiet, unintoncd
voice, as if they had been strangers, and
had met for the first time that day. It was
a striking contrast, and not 'unnoticed by
Chumley who was inwardly thankful that
such a quiet wife had been chosen him; adding
a grace of thanks for having escaped Violet
Tudor! After breakfast he strolled, as usual,
into the garden, Mrs. Chumley going about
her household concerns; Violet went to the
.-
door, turning round for Ella- --
"Come with me, Elly, 'darling," she said,
"let us go and tease Launce. It is really
too stupid here! I can't endure it much
longer. I want to see what the lazy fellow
is really made of. lam not engaged to him,
l eo I am not afraid of him. Come!" And
with one spring down the whole flight, she
dashed upon the lawn like a flash of light.
Ella descended like a well-bred lady; but
Violet skipped and ran, and jumped, and
once she hopped—until she found herself by
Launcelot's side, as he lay on the grass,
darting in between him and the sun like a
humming bird.
"Cousin Launce, bow lazy you are!" were
her first words. "Why don't you do some
thing to amuse us? You take no more no
tice of Ella than if she were a stranger,
and you are not even ordinarily polite to
me. It is really dreadful! :What will you
be when you are a man, if you are so idle
and selfish now? There will be no living
with you in a few years; for I ant sure you
are almost insupportable as you are."
Launcelot bad not been accustomed to
this style of address, and for .the first few
moments was completely at • fault. Ella
looked frightened. She touched Violet and
whispered, "Don't hurt his feelings!" as if
he had been a baby, and Violet an assassin.
"And what am I to do to please Miss
Tudor?" Launcelot asked with an imperti
nent voice; "what herculean exertion mast
I go through to win favor in tho eyes of my
strong, brave, manly cousin?"
"Be a man yourself, cousin Launce," an
swered Violet; "don't spend all your time
dawdling over stupid poetry, which I am
sure you don't understand. Take exercise
—good, strong exercise. Ride, hunt, shoot,.
take interest in something and in some one,
and don't, think yourself too good• for every
body's society but your own. You -give up
your happiness for pride, I am sure you do;
yet you are perfectly unconscious of how
ridiculous you make yourself."
"You are severe, Miss Tudor," said Laun
celot, with his face crimson. Violet was so
small and so frank that he could not be
angry with her.
"I tell you the Uldh,".she persisted,
"and you don't often hear the truth. Bet
ter for you if you did. You must not let
it be a quarrel between us; for I speak only
for your own good; and if you will only
condescend to be a little more like other
men I will never say a word to you again.
Let us go to the stables, • I want ;to: see
your horses. You have horses?" -
"Yes," said Launcelot; remark
ed at breakfast, not ladies', horses." • • ,
"I don't care for ladiee' hors** ise r e s
horses will suit me better!" said' Violet,
with a toss of her little head•that wasubarm
lug in its assertion of equality. "I.Would
undertake to ride horses ) , cousin Launce,
you dare not mount; for I am sure you can
not be good at riding, lying on the grass
all your life!"
Launcelot was excessively piqued. His
blood made la face tingle, his brows con
tractedoind he felt humbled and annoyed;
but roused. Tears , came into Meta eyes.
slie went up to her friead and said-- . •!0h,.
Violet, how cruel yin:Lure"
Launcelot saw this little bye-scene. He
was a man and a spoilt child in one, and
hated pify on the one side as much as inter-
ference on the other. So poor Ella did not
advance herself much in his eyes by her
championship. On the contrary, he felt
more humiliated by her tears than 'by Vio
let's rebukes; and, drawing himself up
proudly, he said to Violet, as if he were
giving away a kingdom, "If you please we
will ride to-day."
"Bravo, bravo, cousin LaUnce!" Violet
left the lovers together, hoping they would
improve the opportunity; but Ella was too
well bred, and Launcelot was too cold; and
They only called each other Miss Limple
and Mr. Chumley, and observed it was very
fine weather; which was the general ex
tent of their love making.
They arrived at the stable in time to hear
some . of Violet's candid criticism. "That
cob's off fetlock wants looking to. The
stupid groom! who ever saw a beast's heed
tied up like that? Why he wasn't a crib
biter, was he?" and with a "Wo-ho, poor
fellow, steady there, steady!" Violet went
dauntlessly up to the big carriage horse's
head and loosened the strain of his halter
before Launcelot knew what she was about.
She was in her element. She wandered in
and out of the stalls, and did not mind how
much the horses fidgetted; nor, even if they
turned themselves sideways as if they meant
to crush her against the manger. Launce
lot thought all this vulgar beyond words;
and he thought Ella Limple, who stood
just at the door and looked frightened, in
finitely the superior of the two ladies; and
thanked his good star again that had risen
on Ella and not on Violet. Violet chose
the biggest and the most spirited horse of
all, Ella selecting an old gray that was as
steady as a camel, and both went into the
house to dress for their ride. When they
came back, even Launcelot—very much dis
approving of Amazons in general—could
not but confess that they made a beautiful
pair. Ella so fair and graceful, and Violet
so full of life arid beauty. He was obliged
to allow that she was beautiful; but of
course not so beautiful as Ella. With this
thought he threw himself cleverly into the
saddle, and off the three started; Ella hold
ing her pummel very tightly.
They ambled down the avenue together
but when they gat a short distance on the
'road, Violet raised herself in'her saddle and
waving her small hand lost in its white
gauntlets, darted Off, tearing along the
road till she became a mere speck in the
distance. Launeelot's blood came up into
his face. Something stirred his heart, strung
his nerves up to their natural tone, and
made him envy and long and bate and ad
mire all in a breath.
"lie turned to Ella and said hurriedly,
"Shall we ride faster, Miss Dimple?"
"If you please," answered Ella, timidly;
"but I can't ride very fast yoii know."
Launcelot bit his lip. "Oh, I remember,
yet I bate to see women riding like jockeys;
you are quite right;" but lie fretted his
horse, and frowned. Then he observed
very loudly, "Violet Tudor is a very vulgar
little girl."
After a time Violet came back; her black
horse foaming; his head well up, his neck
arched, his large eye wild and bright; she
flushed, animated, bright, full of life and
health. Launcelot sat negligently on his
bay—one hand on the crupper, as lazy men
do sit on horseback—walking slowly. El
la's .dozing grey hanging down his head
and sleeping, with the flies settling on his
twinkling pink eyelids.
"Dearest Violet, I thought you would
be killed," said Ella, "what made you rush
away in that manner?"
"And what makes you both ride as if you
were in a procession, and were afraid of
-trampling 011 the crowd?" retorted Violet.—
"Cousin Launcelot, you are something won.
A strong man like you-to ride in
that manner. Are you made of jelly that
Would break if shaken? For shame. Have
a canter. Your bay won't beat my black,
although my black is blown and your mare
is fresh." Violet gave the bay a smart cut
with her whip, wltich sot it off at a hand
gallop. Away they both flew, clattering
along the bard road like dragoons. But
Violet beat by a full length; or, as she
phrased it, limo cleverly;" telling
Laimcelot that he had a great deal to do yet
before he could ride against her, which
made him bate her as much as if she had
been a Frenchman or a Cossack, and' brie
Ella more than ever. And so he told her as
he lifted her tenderly from her gray, leaving
Violet to spring from her black mammoth
unassisted.
• All that evening ho was sulky to Violet,
and peculiarly affectionate to Ella, making
the poor child's heart flutter like a caged
bird. "Cousin," whispered Violet, the next
morning, laying her little hand upon his
shoulder, "have you a rifle in the houee—
or a pair of pistols?" Launcelot. was so
taken by surprise that ho hurriedly confes
sed to having guns and pistols and rifles,
and all other murderous weapons necessary
for the fit equipment of a gentleman.
"We will have some fan, then," she said
lookirig hippy and full of.mischief. Violet
and Ella—Ella dragged -solely against her
will, for the ' very sight of: a pistol nearly
threw her into hysterics—went into the
shiubbery; and there Violet challenged
Lancelot to shoot with her at a'mark at
twenty paces; then, as she grew vain; at
thirty. .Launcolot was too proud• to refuse
this challenge; believing, of course, that a
sliso: PER YEAR ADVANCE; $2,00 . IF NOT IN ADVANCE
little black-eyed girl, whose waist he could
span between his thumb and little finger,
and with hands that could hardly find gloves
handl enough for them, could not shoot as
well as he.
Launcelot was nervous—that must be
confessed; and Violet was excited. Launce
lot's nervousness helped his - failure; but
Violet's excitement helped her success. Her
bullet hit the mark every time straight in
the center, and Launcelot never hit once ;
which was not pleasant in their respective
conditions of lord and subject ; for so Laun
celot classed men and women—especially
little women with small waists—in his own
magnificent mind.
"He had not shot for a long time," he
said, "and he was out of practice. lie drank
coffee for breakfast, and that had made his
-hand unsteady—"
"And confess too, cousin Lamice," said
Violet, "that you never were very good at
shooting any time of your life, without cof
fee or with it. Why you don't even load
properly; how can you shoot if you don't
know how to load? We can't read without
an alphabet!" In the prettiest manner pos
sible, she took the pistol from her cousin's
hand and loaded it for him—first drawing
his charge. "Now try again!" she said,
speaking as if to a child; "nothing like per
severance."
Launcelot was provoked, but subdued,
and he did as his little instructress bade
him; to fail once more. His bullet went
wide of the target, and Violet's lodged in
the bull's eye. So Launcelot flung the pis
tol on the grass and said, "It is very un
ley-like amusement, Miss Tudor; and I
was much to blame to encourage you in such
nonsense. Offering his arm to Ella, he
walked sulkily'away.
Violet looked after them both for some
time, watching them through the trees.—
There was a peculiar expression in her face
—a mixture of whimsical humor, of pain, of
triumph, and of a wistful kind of longing,
that perhaps she was in her own heart, un
conscious of. She then turned away, and
with a half sigh, said softly to herself, "It
is a pity cousin Launcelot has such n had
temper!"
After this, Launcelot became more and
more - reserved to Violet, and more and
more affectionate to Ella. Although he of
ten wondered at himself for thinking so
much of the one—though only in anger and
dislike,--and so little of the other. Why
should he disturb himself about Violet?
On the other hand Violet was distressed
at Launceiot's evident dislike of her. What
had she said? -What - had she done? She
was always good tempered to him, and
ready to oblige. To be sure she has told
him several rough truths; but was not the
truth always to be told? And just see the
good she had done him! Look how much
more active and loss spoilt he was now than
he used to be. It was all owing to her. She
wished, for Ella's sake, that he liked her
better, for it would be very disagreeable for
Ella when she married, if Ella's husband
did not like to see her in his house. It was
really very distressing. And Violet cried
on her pillow that night, thinking over the
dark future when she could not stay with
Ella, because Ella's husband hated her.
This was after Violet had beaten Cousin
Launcelot three games of chess conseen ti rely.
Launcelot had been furiously humiliated,
for he was accounted the best chess-player
of the neighborhood. But Violet was really
a good player and had won the prize at a
chess-club, where she bad been admitted
by extraordinary courtesy; it not being the
custom of that reputable institution to suf
fer womanhood within its sacred walls. But
she was very unhappy about cousin Launce
for all that; and the next day looked quite
pale and cast down. Even Launcelot no
ticed his obnoxious cousin's changed looks,
and asked her rather graciously, "If she
were ill?" TO which question' Violet re
dplied by a blush, a glad smile bursting out
like a song, and a pretty pout. "No, lam
not ilt thank you," which ended their ex
change of civilities for the day.
Laurie°lot became restless, feverish, mel
ancholy, cross; at times boisterously gay,
at times the very echo of despair. He was
kind to Ella, and confessed to himself, how
fortunate he was in having chosen her; but
he could not understand—knowing how
much he loved her—the extraordinary effect
she had upon his nerves. Her passiveness
irritated him. Her soft and musical voice
made him wretched, for he was incessantly
watching for, a change of intonation or an
emphasis which never came. Her manners
wore certainly the perfection of manners—
he desired none other in hie wife—but if
abfi would sometimes move a Mile quicker,
or look interested and pleased when he tried
to amuse her, she would make him infinite
ly happier. And old if she would only do
something more than work those eternal
slippers, how glad he would be. "There
they are," he exclaimed aloud, as the two
cousins passed his window. "By Jove,
what a foot that Violet has; and her hair,
whit a lustrous black; and what 'eyes.--
Pshowl what is it to me what eyes or hair
she has?" And be closed the window - and
turned away. But is a minute after ho was
watching the two girls again, seeing only
Violet. "The strange streagth of hate," he
said, as he stepped out of the lawn to fol
low them.
Launeelet's life was very different now to
what-it had been. lie had become passion
'tali fond of riding, and was hulking for
ward to the hunting season with delight.—
EIVHOLE NUMBER, 1,405.
He rode every day with his two cousins; and
he and Violet had races together, which
made them sometimes leave Ella and her
gray for half an hour in the lane. lie used
to shoot too—practicing secretly—until one
day he astonished Violet by hitting the bull's
eye as often as herself. He talked a great
deal, and had not opened Shelly for a fort
night. He was more natural and less vain;
and sometimes even condescended to laugh
so as to be heard, and to appreciate a jest.
But this was very rare, and always had the
appearance of a condescension, as when
men talk to children. He still hated Violet;
and they quarreled every day regularly,
but were seldom apart. They bated each
other so much that they could not be happy
without bickering. Although, to do Violet
justice, it was all on Launcelot's side. Left
to herself, she would never have a cross
word to him. But what could she do when
he was so impertinent? Thus they rode,
and shot, and played at chess, and quarrel
ed, and sulked, and became reconciled, and
quarreled again; and Ella, still and calm,
looked on with her soft blue eyes, and often
"wondered they were such children to-
gather."
One day the three found themselves to
gether on a bench under the old purple
beech, which bent down its great branches
like bowers abuut them. Ella gathered a
few of the most beautiful leaves and placed
them in her hair. They did not look very
well; her Bair was too light; and Launcelot
said so.
"Perhaps they will look better on you,
Miss Tudor," he added, picking a broad and
ruddy leaf, and laying it Bacchante fashion
on her curly, thick black bands. His hand
touched her cheek. He started, and dropped
suddenly, as if that round, fresh face had
been burning iron. Violet blushed deeply,
and felt distressed, and ashamed, and angry.
Trembling,..and" with a strange difficulty of
breathing, she got up and ran away; saying
that she was ioing for her parasol—although
she had it in her hand—and would be back
immediately. But she stayed away a long
time, wondering at cousin Launeelot's im
pertinence. When she came back no one
was to be seen. Ella and Launcelot had
gone into the shrubbery to look after a hare
that had run across the path; and Violet sat
down on the bench waiting for them, and
very well pleased that they had gone. _ She
heard a footstep. It was Launcelot without
his cousin. "Ella had gone into the house,"
he said, "not quite understanding that Miss
Tudor was coming back to the scat."
Violet instantly rose; a kind of terror was
in her face, and she trembled more than
ever. "I Must go and look for her," she
said, tak;ng up her parasol.
"I am sorry, Miss Tudor, that my pres
ence is so excessively disagreeable to you!"
said Launcelot, moving aside to let her pass.
Violet looked full into his face, in utter
a-lonishment. "Disagreeable! Your pres
ence disagreeable to me? . Why, cousin
Launce, it is you that hates mel"
"You know the contrary," said Launce
lot hurriedly. "You detest and despise me;
and take no pains to hide your feelings—
not ordinary cousinly pains! .I know that I
am full of faults," speaking as if a dam had
been removed, and the waters were rushing
over in a torrent—"but still lam noted bad
as you think me! I have done all I could
to please you since you have been here. I
have altered my former habits., I have
adopted your advice, and followed your ex
ample. If I knew how to make yod esteem
me, I would try even more than hare
already tried to succeed. lean endUre any
thing rather than the humiliating contempt
you feel for me!" Launcelot became sud
denly afflicted with, a choking sensation;
there was a sense of fullness in his head,
and his limbs shook. Suddenly tears came
into his eyes. Yes, man as he was, he wept.
Violet flung her arms around his neck, and
took his head between her little hands. She
bent her face until her breath came warm
on his forehead, and spoke a few innocent
words which might have been said to a
brother. But they conjured up a strange
world in both. Violet tried to disengage
herself; for it was Launcelot who now held
her. She hid her face, but he forced her to
look up. For a long time she besought only
to be released; when suddenly, as if con
quered by something stronger than herself,
she flung herself from him, and darted into
the httuse in a state of excitement and
tumult.
An agony of reflection succeeded to this
agony of feeling; and Launcclot and Violet
both felt as if they had committed, or Were
about to commit some fearful sin. Could
Violet betray her friend? Could she who
had always upheld truth and honor; accept
Ella's confidence only to deprive her of her
lover? It was worse than guilt! 'Poor Vio
let wept the bitterest tears her bright eyes
had ever shed; for she labored under a sense
of sin that was insupportable. She dared
not look at Ella, but feigned a headache,
ache, and went into her own room to weep.
Launcelot was shocked too; but Launcelot
was a man; and the sense of a half-developed
triumph somewhat deadened his sense of
remorse. A certain dim unraveling of the
mystery of the past was also pleasant.—
Without being dishonorable, ho was less
overcome.
On that dreadful day LauncelOt and Vio
let spoke no more to each other. They did
not even look at each other. _Ella thought
that some new quarrel had burst forth in
her absence, and tried to make it up between
them, in her amiable way, but ineffectually.