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SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXVIII, NUMBER 31
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
(Nice iio Northern Central Railroad COM
yrany's Building, north-west corner Front and
- Walnut streets.
Terms of Subscription.
Cue Copy per annum, if paid in
" " If not paid within three
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No subscription received for a less lime than r.ix
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ihk.her.
1 - . ltloney may be remitted by mail at the publish
cr's risk.
Rates of Advertising.
square [6 lineal one week,
lb tee weeks,
each subsequent insertion, 10
1 " [l2 !Ines] one week, 20
three weeks, 100
each subsequent insertion, 2:5
Larger advertisements in proportion.
A liberal discount will be matte to quarterly, ball
yearly. or yearly advertisers,who are strictly confined
to their business.
DR.S. ARMOR
HOIMOPITIIIC PHYSICIAN. Office and
ReQidence in Locust etreet, opposite the Post
Office; OFFICE PRIVATE
Columbia, April 25, 1057-6 m
Drs. John & Rohrer,
AVE associated in the Practice of
H
Columbia, April 15t,1856•1f
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.
Columlnu,Pn.
Collections, promptly made, inLaneastor and York
Counnen.
Columbia, May 4,1850.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
C7c)l:l2.3±l.lbolem,
Colurnbta, September li,
GEORGE J. SMITH,
WIIOLESILE and Retail Bread and Cake
Baker.—Constaidly on hand a variety of Cakes,
too numerous to mention; Crackers; Soda, VlTine, Scroll,
and Sugar Biscuit; Confection er y, of eve description,
he., Lc. Lout:ST ry
srritrau,
Feb.2,'55. Between the Bank and Franklin House.
B. r. Arrow) (sr. co.,
'
GENERAL FORWARDING AND COMMIS
MERCHANTS, 4 13 3.
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. FLOLIR AND GRAIN,
WHISKY AND BACON, have 3ust received a
largo lot of Monongahela Rectified Whiskey, from
Pitt.hurg, of which they will keep a supply coiemintly
on hand. at low prices. Nn% I, 2 and 6 Canal Basin.
Columbia, January 27. Mi.
0 ATS FOR SALE
llitY TILE BUSHEL, or in larger quantities,
LA , at Nos. 1,2 & G Canal Basin.
B. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, January 20, 1556
Just Received,
r BUS. NUMB GROUND NUTS, at J. F.
SMITH'S WholeNide and Retail Confectionery
esiablihlunent. Front street, two doors below ibe
Wablitogton House, Columbia. [October d 5, 1856.
Just Received,
2
0 MIDS. SHOULDERS. 15 T 1 ERCE.t HAMS
For enle by 13 P APPOLD & CO.,
Nos. 1, 2 and 6, Callta .1.311,111.
Columbia, October 16, 1656.
Rapp's Gold Pens.
CONSTANTLY on hand, an assortment of
these celebrated PENS. Persona in want all
goad article are invited to cull and examine them.
Columbia, June 30, 1855. JOHN FELIX.
Just Received,
ALARGE LOT of Children's Carriages,
Gig•, Rocking Horses, Wheelbarrow, Preps:-
lent, Nursery Swings, &c. GEORGE, J.
April Li, Ital. Locust Street.
IIINA and other Fancy Articles, too numerous to
C
mention, for sale by G. J Locust street,
between the Bank and Franklin House.
Columbia, April 19, 11.456.
IIE undersigned hale been appointed
T
agents for the sale of Cook &Co's cuTTA PEE
CHA PENS, warranted not to corrode; in elasticity
they almost equal the quill.
SAYLOR & McDONALD.
Columbia Jam 1:7, 1857.
Just Received,
A BEAUTIFUL lot of Lamp Shadcs, viz: Tie
torine, Volcano. Drum. Butler Fly. Red Roi-e.,
and the new French Fruit Shade, which can be been
in the window of the Golden Morton Drug Store.
November 29,185 G.
ALARGE lot of Shaker Corn, from the
Shaver settlement in New Yolk, hitt received,
at 11. SUYDAhI & SON'S
Columbia, Dcc. 20, 1856
HAIR DYE'S. Jones' Batchelor's, Peter's and
EFyption hair dyes, warranted to color the luta
any - desired shade, without injury to the skin. For sale
by R.. WILLIAMS.
May 10, Frost at., CO/UM1 , 13, Pa.
VARR & THOMPSON'S justly celebrated
....Com
mercial and other Gold re.11 , ---the beat in the
market—juAt received. I'. SHREINER.
Columbia, April 2:3,1855.
EXTRA FAMILY FLOUR, by the barrel, for
sale by B. F. APPOLD & CO,
Columbia,June 7. Nos. 1.2 and a Canal
WHY shonld any person do without a Clock,
when they can be had for $1,50 and upwards.
t lIREINEWS?
Columbia, April 29,1955
SAPONEFIER, or Concentrated Lye, for ma
king Soup. 1 lb. in sufficient for one barrel of
Soft Soup or 11b.for 9 lbs. Hard Sonp. Full direc
tions will be given nt the Counter for making Soft,
,herd and Fancy Soaps. For sale by
K. WILLIAMS.
•Colambia, March 31, 1855.
A LARGE lot of Baskets, Brooms, Buckets
&c„ for sale by 11. SUYDASI & SON.
WEIKEL'S Instantaneous Yeast or Baking
Powder, for sale by H. SUYDAM S. SON.
20 Dozmi BROO3IS, 10 BOXF.S For
sale cheap, by B. F. APPOLD & CO.
Columbia, Octobe r 25, 1'7,5G.
A . SUPERIOR urtielc or PAIN*II;IOIALVAIfiI.....IIy
Front Street, Columbia, Pa,
May 10, 16150
"[UST RECEIVED. a large ad well relented variety
tr of Bru•lnee. corvikiina in part or shoo, Cloth,
Crumb, Nail, Hat and Teeth Llru.liee. and for Rale by
R. WILLIA
Front etreet Columbia, Pa.
March ?2,'50
ASUPERIOR article ofTONIC SPICE BITTERS,
suitable for Hotel Keepers, for sale by
R. WILLIAMS.
From street, Columbia.
May 10,1950
FRESH ETHEREAL OIL, always on hnnd. nnd fo
pale by R. WILLIA MS. MayIO, ISI6. Front Street, Columbia, Pa.
TUST received, FRESH CAMPHENS. and for vale
e.l by R. WIL.I.IASIS.
Alay 10, 1856. Front Street, Columbia, Pa.
1000 ;.ns. New City Cured flame and Shoulders,
Just received uad for sale by
Feb 24,.1.357. If. n I - DAM 8: SON.
tufty.
From "Porter's Sprit."
Address to the Comet.
I=
ELM
At.mmirry Comet wheresoe'er you travel,
With course erratic, through ethereal space,
Hold up a minute, and the case unravel,
Why you are absent on some wild goose chase
Having. "engagements' , here in pantomime,
Oh: tell us why you did not -come to time.'
Ilave you a habit—surely 'tis a bad one—
Of breaking yonr appointments, one and all?
Now don't pretend that you have never had one,
To "run a muck" against our earthly ball;
You did engage to pitch into this planet,
And us for fooling, mind now, we shan't stall' it.
OE
Your lilac is up, and still the great collision
The bills announced, has not yet taken place;
Pray, tell us, then, (and under weal decision,)
If you're entitled, on your bill., to grace'
if you're a lawyer swagg'rtng through the skies,
Your very tail may prove a string of lies!
Now, cant you "come it" in the month of July?
Fortis too late for you to come in June,
And under such suspects at present you he,
Your °butting match. cannot come oil - to soon;
And for excuse, why say you had to run,
A little foot-race Collier aide the sun.
But come you must, we Can't be disappotnted;
Make up your mind to knock us into pi:
Yet if you cannot do all you have vaunted,
Give us is switch as you go sailing by—
And rid the eartb-of some that can be spared;
'Twon't hurt us all to be a little scared!
If your old fly-brush was made up of halters,
And every halter fitted with a noo,e,
You'd have too few to throttle our defaulters;
And us you cannot stop to pick and choose,
If you'll just trail your lassos dOWII this wuy,
I'll mention some who'll be your lawful prey.
But Mister Comet, since you are so nigh us,
Relate some marvels of your lengthened race;
Drop a few hints as you are glancing by us,
Togo zigzagging through eternal space.
You've travelled some in foreign parts, I'm told,
And doubtless can a •"wondrous tale" unfold.
Pray, tell us, now, about the rings of Saturn,
And why the fop indulges in such geur,
Or are they hoops, hke those which every• slattern
Compounds of brass, to spread her muslin here?
Of course, they are Hot hoops, or else (between us,)
They'd hang, just now, upon the hips of Venus.
You've pnssed the Moon, and doubtless are acquainted
With that young man, the wanton, Luna, keeps?
Pray, in his pint us ugly as it's painted
Viten forth, on moonlight nights at us he props?
Yon know him well; so tell no, if you please,
Is the young man so very• fond of chase'
It•s not unlikely that so old u. stager
Ilas often taken Orion by the hand,
Or bud a friendly hug with Ursa Major;
Now, did the Bear give you to undermand,
The ''dipper" on his tad was any sign,
That his a Hapto4 of the hard•shell line'
You know the Wagoner, and oft have passed hint,
Urging his nags along the DSiIL y 'Yap.
Is lie a dark man? have you ever asked him,
As you shot by him on some rainy day—
Excuse the query—has he ever stated
'flint Its Will our Tom were at all related?
You have passed our earth by in all styles and seasons,
And know it thoroughly from line to pole.
Now, answer truly, for I have my reasons,
Did you, at either end, observe a hole,
Dark, and mysterious, with any clue
To whether it might, ormight not reach through?
rpw•ould prove a God scud if you've ever found it,
And marked the spot upon some tree hard by;
'Twos lost by Mister Symmcs. and round and round tt
lies been sailing centuries constantly;
Assisted, too, by Saxon and by Gaul,
But hitherto the bole's escaped them all.
Prithee, great Comet, do not be offended,
As to this hole I have one question more;
I've questioned now beyond what I intended,
But I'm concerned about this polar bore.
Our Mormon friends must soon seek cooler quarters;
Would et hold Ert,:ham and !us mires our! daughters?
MILIVAIIKIE, July I. 1E47.
gthttivr,s.
The Reconciliation
CHAPTER 1
A mild May morning, fresh and pleasant,
and bright; the soft air full of the songs of
happy birds; the wi]d flowers lifting up their
heads in the sunshine; and the green leaves
rustling and waving in the woods, as if they
were whispering secrets to the gentle wind
that stirred them.
It was a lovely day—a day to bo happy
in; and yet a saddened look was visible on
the sweet face of Faith Egerton, as she left
the door of her house and vent slowly down
the gravel walk that led to the road gate.
Her home—the home of her husband and
children—was a pretty brown stone cottage,
overhung with vines, and surrounded by
beds of fragrant flowers. Behind the house
was a level and beautiful grove, in whose
cool recesses she had often lain when a
child, and watched the flickering light and
; shade comileown upon the ground; for the
I earliest years of Faith, as well as these lat
ter ones, had been spent in this quiet place.
Here she had been born—here her kind
mother bad died—here she had lived with
a dear and only brother—here she bad mar
ried her first love, and hero her children
wore springing up—and here she hoped to
close her dying eyes; with all the old famil
iar scenes smiling in beauty around her.
She leaned upon the little gate, and looked
wistfully up the road. She was waiting I
there for the coming of her best friend, rued
the sound of wheels made her start, and sent
a color into her pale cheek that had long
been a stranger there. A dusty stage coach
came whirling up beside the gates—stopped
long enough for a lady to alight and give
some orders respecting her baggage, and
dashed away again. The new corner did
not see Faith for a moment, so sreeened was
she by the branches of a wild rose that grew
beside the gate. The traveler lifted her
veil, and exposed a broad high forehead sha
ded by silky mazes of black hair, a face
well featured but grave and full of thought,
and deep, dark eyes, whose glances were
kind and her smiles were beautiful.
How strange a contrast between these
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LISTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JULY 25, 1857.
two women! the one fair-haired and soft
eyed, with a meek and quiet face, on whose
features contentment and home happiness
were most plainly stamped; the other dark
and proud, and self-sustained, with a look
that said to the most careless observer, 'Oll,
11 have suffered!' To one, life had been a
! fair sumer's day, with only now and then
a light happy cloud; to the other—all! what
to her but a bleak and stormy winter, where
everything she loved withered and died!—
And yet they were of the same age, of the
same station in life; and side by side they
had sat at school, and played at home, in
the childhood that lay behind them.
The tears sprang unbidden to the eyes of
Faith Egerton, as she saw the steadfast look
with which her visitor regarded tho scene
around her. She lifted the lutch of the gate
and stepped out beside her.
'Gertrude—Gertrude Alwynne--won't
you speak to me?' she said.
'Faith, dear Faith, is it you?' said Ger
trude.
They were clasped in each others arms at
once. Faith wept bitterly, but Gertrude
was pale and calm, and smoothed the fair
hair of her friend with a caressing gesture
such as one might use to soothe a little
child.
'Come, Faith,' she said at last, as if weary
of her tears; 'this is but a sorry welcome to
give me after so long a journey, You know
I never liked to see you cry.'
'But you are so changed, Gertrude!' re
plied Faith.
'Well if I am?' said Gertrude. 'lt is some
years since we mot, dear Faith, and they
have not been marked with rose leaves for
me. You must not expect to find me to be
quite the same at twenty-five as at fifteen.
Life changes us all you know'
'I know,' answered Faith sadly, 'but I
never knew it so well till now.'
'Well, we will let that drop,' said Ger
trude. 'And now are you going to ask me
in, after my long journey?'
'Pray, forgive me,' said Faith, blushing
at her inattention. will show you to your
chamber myself. It has been ready for you
this week.'
They went up the walk together. Two
fair haired children ran out to the door to
meet them. The youngest, a boy of some
two summers, held up his little hands to Miss
Allewynne with a sunny smile. She stooped
down and took him in her arms, and walked
along through the hall with Faith.
'Are these your only children?' asked Ger
trude.
'Yes, and they are trouble enough for me,'
replied the mother, looking at the children
with a fond smile that showed how little the
'trouble' was felt.
Gertrude sighed, and said brokenly,
dont know, - Faith, why every one calls me
cold and proud; perhaps I am. But when I
take a little innocent child in my arms, some
thing stirs in my heart that nothing else can
touch. I might have been a better and a
happier woman, Faith, if I had married.'
'You know what my favorite plan always
was, Gertrude. If you had only married my
brother—,' and this time it was Faith who
sighed.
'Oh, Faith, spare me,' was the half-laugh
ing answer.
'But you would have loved him if you
had only seen him,' persisted Faith. He is
so noble, so generous, so handsome? lle is
only my half-brother, you know; but if he
had been my own, I could not have loved
him better.'
By this time they had reached the room
which had been fitted up for Gertrude.—
'Why you have made a little Paradise for
me,' she said, with a pleased smile as she
looked around the chamber, 'I shall never
want to leave you, Faith.'
'lf any paths of mine will keep you I am
content,' replied Faith,
'But, Faith,' said Miss Allewynne, detain
ing her friend as she was about to leave the
room, 'I never knew before that your para
gon was only a half-brother. Your maiden
name was Faith Anderson; pray what was
his?'
'Walter Roscoe,' she replied. He was the
son of my step-mother. My own mother
died when I was very young.'
'What was his name?' The tone was sharp
and impatient, but the speaker's face was
turned away from Faith.
'Waiter Roscoe,' she repeated. 'My boy
is named after him: Walter Roscoe Egerton.'
The jewelled hand that had been playing
with the child's soft curls was drawn away
as suddenly as if a serpent had stung it, and
Gertrude turned a white and rigid face
towards her friend, as she put the boy down
and pointed to the door.
'Gertrude, what ails you? Are you ill?'
cried Faith in terror. She caught the bell
rope in her hand, but Miss Allewynne
grasped her arm firmly.
'Dont ring; I shall be better soon,' she
said in a low voice. 'And, Faith, for the ,
sake of the old time when we were school
together,irls say nothing of my illness to
any one, and ask me no questions now.—
Leave mo for a little while and tomorrow I
will tell you all.'
Wondering and perplexed, Faith left the
room with her children, and went down the
stairs. Her husband met her in the hall
and stopped to speak to her.' 'Has your
friend arrived?' he asked.
'Yes, Alfred,' she replied. Have you
seen Walter?'
'I went to his office, asyou requested me to
my dear, and asked him to come and dine.
He tonsented, and was talking with me a 9
usual, when I happened to mention Miss
Alewynne's name. Ile started up and turn
; ed white—but here he comes, Faith, and
you can see for yourself how strange he is.
He stopped speaking and both turned tow
ards the door, as Walter —Roscoe entered,
pale and agitated.
'Faith, is it true—is she in this house?'
he asked wildly.
'Miss Alewyttne is here, Walter,' she re-
ISE
lie struck his hand upon his forehead,
`Why was I not told that she was
saying,
coining?'
'Don't look so angry, dear Walter,' replied
Faith, 'I intended it as a pleasant surprise
for you both.'
He half uttered an oath, and Faith burst
ing into tears, cried, 'Oh, Walter don't!—
Don't swear; before these children, too! You
never did so before.'
'lt was only on account of your pleasant
surprise,' he answered bitterly. 'Don't ever
try another, Faith. I have only come to
say good-bye. The same house can never
hold Gertrude—' he paused, and then added
as if with an effort, 'Gertrude Alewynno
and myself.'
'But why, Walter?' asked Faith, clinging
to him as be turned away. 'Have you ever
met before?'
lie looked at her with a strange smile, as
he replied, 'Yes, Faith, we met once too of
ten.'
'You knew Gertrude and yet never spoke
to me of her, when you knew how much I
wished you to love each other,' said Faith,
reproachfully. 'Oh, Walter, I always
thought I had your confidence?
'And so you have, Faith; so you have,
except in this one thing,' he said kindly,
softened by her evident distress. 'And
when se has left you, I will come back and
tell you all.'
'Not before?' she asked pursuadingly.
'Not before, Faith,' he replied. 'Let me
go now.'
'Oh! Walter, I would almost give my life
if I could only see you happy together.'
'Faith, Faith, how little you know of what
you talk! That woman has embittered my
life; she has destroyed my confidence in
every human being; she has deceived and be
trayed, and disgraced me. And yet, I know
if I look but once upon her taco I should
forgive her all; for I loved her, Faith. I
loved her more than my life. Sister I
must not see her. When she has left you,
I will come back again—till then farewell!'
He kissed her fondly, shook hands with
her husband, patted the golden heads of the;
children, and was gone. The young hes
band and wife looked after him wistfully.—
A cloud seemed to have covered the bright
spring sky, and the little parlor of the cot
tage seemed lonely and deserted when they
again entered it because of the mystery, which
might be guilt, that was even then sheltered
within its peaceful walls.
CHAPTER II
Walter Roscoe, turning away from his
sister's home, thought sadly of the many
days that must elapse before he entered it
again. Of Gertrude he told himself again
and again her image came up before him,
as he had seen liar last.
'Have I not wronged her?' he thought, as
he paced the floor of his office that evening.
'ls it not possible she may be innocent, even
though appearances were against her? Shall'
I see her once? Pshaw, what a fool I am!
Did I not see her there beside him? Did I
not see his lips meet hers? If I asked for
better proof than my own eyes have given
me, I must be a madman. I will leave this
place and never come back till she has gone
away.'
He threw a few things into a valise, lock- !
ed the writing desk behind him, and step
ped into the street, valise in hand, locked
up his office, and walked away. Ills resi
dence was a long distance from the garden
of his sister's house, and yet it was there
he found himself after a hurried walk of
some five minutes. Ire lifted the latch and
entered.
'lt is the last time, (ertrude, that I shall
ho so weak,' he murmured, as lie looked up
at the vine curtained window, where a lamp
was still burning, 'the last time I shall be
so near to you! Oh! Gertrude, can you
dream what you have done, or is sour heart
all marble?'
Ire buried his face in his hands, and wept
I like a child. The memory of the happy
hours he had spent with her came over him
too strongly to be borne. lie could meet
such remembrances with his tears.
When he looked up again he was con
scious of an unusual bustle. Lights were
moving hurriedly in several directions, and
once or twice he caught a glimpse of his
sister's figure passing the window of Ger
trudes room. What could it be? Was Ger
trude ill?
Ills heart stood still at the thought. Ile
could never bear to look upon her face again,
but oh! the grave must not cover it frombiln!
Ile sprang up the path, and was about to
enter, when the door opened and Alfred
Egerton came out.
`You hero Walter!' he exclaimed, starting
back as the pale face of his brother met his
eye. 'Faith just told me to go for you when
I had summoned the doctor?'
'The doctorl' said Walter, turning pale,
as ho found his worst suspicion realized.—
'Who wants the doctor?'
'Miss Alewynne is very ill,' replied Al
fred. `She id threatened with brain fever I
think.'
'Oh, merciful heavens!' The unhappy
man staggered, and caught at his brother's
hand to steady himself.
Alfred looked at him a moment, and then
said soothingly. 'Walter, it will not do fur
me to stay here a moment. But go in and
see Faith; she will comfort you.' llewrung
his hand sympathisingly andOurried away.
Half blind with unshed tears, the unhap
py young man entered the house, and see
ing his sister sitting at her writing de , k in
the parlor, sank down at her feet and hid
his face in her lap.
'Will she die, Faith?' he asked.
I hope not my poor Walter. But she is
very ill,' answered Faith, laying her hand
upon his head. 'Our own doctor is with
her now, and Alfred is just gone fur anoth-
'What are you doing?' he asked, looking
up at the half-finished note before her.—
'Writing to her brother to come to her,' re
plied Faith:
'I did not know that she had one, Faith.'
'Oh, yes. I never have seen him, but she
sent me his portrait once. You know,' she
added with a faint blush, 'it was quite a
dream with us when we were girls—that is
—she wished me to marry her brother, and
I wanted her to marry mine.'
'I know—l know,' said Walter, and an
indefinable expression of pain flitted over
his face.
'And so she sent me Edward's portrait,'
continued Faith. •Would you like to see it,
Walte•?'
'Yes,' he replied quickly.
She opened her writing desk, and taking
out a small inlaid case, gave it to him. He
gave one startled glance at it—another—
and the portrait fell from his hands, and he
uttered a wild cry.
'Oh, Gertrude!' he exclaimed. 'Oh, my
poor wife!'
'Gertrude your wife!' exclaimed his
startled sister. 'Oh, Walter, when will
these mysteries cease!'
'Now—with this moment,' he replied, ris
ing, and seating himself beside her. 'You
shall her all—you deserve it. Faith, you
have had.yo lir wish. Fur twelve months she
has been my wife.'
'Oh! Walter,' she exclaimed.
'Don't interrupt me,' he said. 'I knew
long ago what your wish was; but I wanted
to judge of Gertrude fur myself. I knew
she thought you were my sister, and she
met me as Walter Roscoe, at a fashionable
watering place without a suspicion of my
identity. I found her all you had so often i
described. I followed her to her home and
she was still more lovely there. Still I did
not make myself known as your brother.—
Perhaps
I had a fancy for one of your 'plea
sant surprises, Faith.'
'Oh, go on, dear Walter,' said his sister.
I married her, Faith, and was looking
forward to a happy meeting with you. It
was the secant evening of our marriage, and
I walked out with a friend to whom I wished
to say good-bye. The moon had risen be
fore I returned, and as 1 laid my hand
upon the latch of the gate, I remem
bered looking ', I : at the moon, and thinking
what a tranquilly beautiful aspect it wore,
and how perfectly happy I was. Faith I
Imre looked at the moon many times since,
but she never wears that lovely face for me
now.'
Ile paused and sighed. Faith kissed him
tenderly, and waited for the conclusion of
the story.
'Well, it must all he told,' he resumed.
entered the house quietly, thinking to
surprise Gertrude with a kisq, as she was
watching for me. I found her—oh, Faith—
I found her with her lips pressed to those of
another, and her arm arnind his neck.'
Faith uttered an indignant cry. 'Brother,'
she said, 'there must lie some mistake. Ger
trude is good and pure. I know it.'
'Thank you fur saying so, he answered,
with a melancholy smile. 'I know it too,
now—would to heaven I had, known it then.'
'But what did you do, Walter?'
'What would any man do, Faith? I sprang
upon him like a tiger—she threw herself
between us. Ire was about to speak, but
she cried out—'Not a word—not a word if
you love me?' Think of it Faith! If he
loved her? Was it not enough to madden
me? I was mad, I believe. I cursed her
bitterly—l called her wanton and unfaithful.
She had listened in silence till then—then
she turned very pale and looked at me. I
can hear her say new, in a deep, low voice,
"After that, I can never be more to you."
She turned away and took his arm. They
left the room, and I—l let them go. Yes
Faith—l was too deeply deceived to lift my
hand, even when my wife left the room with
one I fully believed to be her paramour.—
From that night we have never met, and I
only two cold and brief letters have passed !
between us.'
'Oh, Walter! This is what has changed
her bo.P
'ls she then changed?' he asked eagerly
'She has grown cold, and bard, and proud
—and she is sad—oh, so little like the Ger
trude of my school days!' said Faith.
'She has been drinking a bitter cup, and
my hand held it to her lips,' said Walter.
'Now hear the rest, Faith. Half an hour
ago I believed her guilty. But that fatal
portrait shows me the same face I saw on
that accursed night. It was her brother.'
'And she never told you so!' said Faith.
'You little know Gertrude, I see,' replied
Walter. I wounded her in the tenderest
Spot. She is the soul of truth and honor:
but if any one should doubt her, woe be to
$1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE
him: And I—oh, what a fearful doubt was
mine! I wronged her deeply, and she was
too proud to forgive me. Will she ever do
it, Faith!'
`She will—she must!' cried Faith earnest
ly. 'lt has been a terrible mistake, but let
us trust that all will go well. I see it all
now. Not till to-day did she know that you
were my half brother—not till to-day did
she dream that Walter Roscoe and you were
the same. Oh, how much she must have
suffered!'
A low knock came at the half open door
of the parlor, and Alfred Egerton immedi
ately entered.
'I have been for the physician, Faith,' he
said hurriedly, 'and both have seen her. I
have the best news of her. They say it is
only the long and hurried journey, and great
mental excitement that has prostrated her.
They have left her quite comfortable, and
she has asked for you. Will you go up and
see her while I sit with Walter?'
Faith grasped her husband's hand and
looked up to him with beaming eyes.
'You were ever a messenger of glad
tidings to me, Alfred,' she said; 'and now to
reward you, you shall hear mine.'
She related what she had already heard,
in a few brief words, and then stealing her
hand into his, asked, 'Now what is to be
done?'
I should say, my dear Faith, that the
sooner those two are brought together the
better,' replied Mr. Egerton, when his as
tonishment allowed him to speak.
'I knew that you would say so!' exclaimed
Faith. 'Walter follow me, and you, Alfred,
wait here; I will be back in a few moments.'
They went quietly up the stairs together
to Gertrude's room. Leasing Walter at the
door, Faith entered, and went to the bedside.
Gertrude was lying half asleep in bed. The
traces of tears were on her cheeks, and a
small gold locket lay open in her hand, A
rapid glance assured Faith that it was her
brother's portrait, and she bent down and
kissed her friend.
Gertrude started—looked up, and tried to
hide her portrait. But some second thought
prompted her to lay it in Faith's hand and
say, with a sad smile. 'You see, I know him.'
'ls that all, Gertrude?' said Faith gently.
'Alll' said Gertrude, springing up in bed,
and tossing her black hair from her fore
head. 'Listen, Faith! I loved him more than
any earthly thing—l married him a year
I ago, though I n ever know he was your brother
till to-day. Ile hold my very heart in his hand
and crushed it to atoms! He had no faith
in me—in me—who would not have wronged
him for worlds. Oh, Faith, though he is
your brother, he has made my life a weary
thing to bear. Leave me—to-morrow I. will
tell you more—but now 1 am too weak.'
She sank back upon her pillow and cov
ered her face with her hands. Faith stole
noiselessly away, and 'Walter entered and
took her place. All was silent for a few
moments. Then without looking up, Ger
trude asked, 'Faith are you there?'
It was a stronger arm than Faith's that
was around her, and a moustached lip that
kissed her hand. She looked up in sudden
bewilderment, and saw her husband bend
ing over with eyes full of tears. The cud
den joy was too much for her, and all pride
was swept away in a moment.
'Walter, it was my brother,' she ntur-1
mured.
'I know it, dearest—l know it all. But
can you ever forgive me, Gertrude?'
'Forgiver she repeated.
There was a beautiful smile upon her lip
as she drew him nearer and kissed him pas
sionately. The estrangement of a year was
all forgotten in that bewildered return of
happiness. Faith wept silently for joy upon
her husband's shoulder, in the little parlor
below; and who can doubt that the angels
in heaven rejoiced to see so perfect and com
plete a reconciliation between those proud
and loving hearts—for those who forgive are
dear in the sight of Hint who has forgiven.
Sut Lovegood's Daddy Acting Hoss
ItY S-L, OF TENNESSEE
'Hold that ere boss down to the yeath.'
'lle's a spredin' his tail to fly now.'—
;'Keep him whar he is."Woa, won, Shave
tail' lle's a dancing a jig.'
These and like expressions were addressed
to a queer-looking, long-legged, short-bodied
small-headed, white-haired, hog-eyed, funny
sort of a genius, fresh from some second
hand clothing store, and mounted on 'Tar
poke,' a nic-tailed, long, poor horse, half
brandy, half devil, and enveloped all over in
a perfect net work of bridle reins, cruppers,
martingales, straps. circingles, and red fore
tin, who had reined up in front of Pat Neck's
grocery, among a crowd of wild mountain
eers, full of fight and bad whiskey.
say, you darned ash cats, jilt keep
your shirts on, will ye? You never
seed a rale boss till I rid up. Tarpolo is
jilt next to the best hoss that ever shelled
nubbins, and he's dead as a still worm, poor
old Ticky-tail.'
'What killed him, Sut?' said an anxious
inquirer.
'Why, nuthin, you tarnal fool; he jist
died, died standin' up, at that. Warn't
that good pluck? Froze stiff; no, not Gamely
but starved fast and then froze arterwards,
so stiff that when dad and me pushed him
oror, he jist stuck out so, (spreading his
arms and legs,) like a carpenters bench, and
we waited seventeen days fur him to thaw
afore we could skin him. Well, thar we
was—dad an' me—feelinting his fingers)
[WHOLE NUMBER, 1,408.
dad an' me, Sal an' Jake, (Fool Jake we
used to call him for short,) an.' Phineas, an'
Simeon, an' Jonas, an' Charlottean, an'
Callini Jane, an' Cashes Henry Clay, an'
Noah Dan Webster, an' Cathrine Second,
an' Cleopatry Antony, an' Jane Lind, an'
Tom Bullion, the baby, an' the prospect, an'
marm herself, all left left without any hose
to crop with. That was a nice mess for a
'spectable family to be slashin about in,
warn't it? I declar' if I didn't feel like
steelin' a hoes sometime. Well we waited
an' rested an' wited until well into straw
/berry time, hopin' sum stray Koss mout
come along, but dog my cats of eny rich
luck as that ever comes whar dad is, he's
so dratted mean, an' lazy, an' ugly, an' sav
age, an' triilin.'
`Well one nite, dad he lay awake all nite,
a snortin' an' a rollin' an' a whisperin' at
marm; and next mornin' sez he "Sut, I'll
tell you what we'll do, I'll be hoes myself.
all' pull the plow, while you drive me, and
we'll break up corn ground, and then the
old quilt (that's maul) and brats kin plant
it or let it alone, jist as they please." So
out we goes to the pawpaw, and pealed a
right smart chance of bark, and mam and
me made gears for dad, and they become
him mightily; then he would have a bridle;
so I gits an old umbrella what I found—it's
a little forked piece of iron, sorter like un
to a pitchfork, ye know—an' we bent an'
twisted it sorter unto a bridle bit, snaffle
shape (dad wanted it kurb, as he said lie
hadn't worked for some time and might
sorter feel his oats and go to cavortin.) Well,
when we got the bridle all fixed on dad, he
chomped the bit jilt like a rale horse, (he
always was a most oomplecated old fool, any
how, and main tillers said so when. be
warn't about,) then I put on the gears, and
out dad and me goes to the field, I a leadin'
dad by the bridle, and totin' the gopher
plow on my back. When we come to the
fence, I let down a gap and made dad mad,
he wanted to jump the fence on all fours,
hoes way. I hitched him onto the gopher,
and away we went, dad leanin' forward to
his pain, right peart, and we made sharp
plowiu' dad gain' rite over the hushes and
sprouts same as a rale hool, the only diXer
ence is, ho went on two legs.
Presently we cum to a sassafrac patch,
and dad, to keep up his karaoter as a boss,
bulged right squar' into it, and tore down.n
hornet's nest nigh onto as big as a hoes head,
and all the tribe kivered him right strate.—
Ile rared and kicked once or twice, and
fetched a squeal wus nor ary hose in the
district, and sot into runnin away as natu•
ral as ever you seed. I let go the lines, and
I hollered, woo, dad, won! hut ye moot as well
of said woa to a locomotive. Gewhillikins,
how he run? When he cum to a bush, he'd
clear the top of it, gopher and all; p'raps he
thort there moat be another settlement of
bald hornet in it, and that it war safer to go
over than thrue, and quicker dun; every
now and then he'd paw one side of his head
with lust one fore leg and then tother, then
he'd gin himself an open handed slap, that
sounded like a wagon whip, and runnin' all
the time and karrien that gopher about as
fast and high from the yeath as ever a gopher
was carried, I swar. When he cum to the
fence he busted right thrue it, tarin' nigh
onto seven patina, scatterin' and brakin' the
tails mightily, and here ho left the gopher,
goers, singletrees and klevis all mixed up,
not wuth a darn. Most of his shirt stuck to
the splintered end of a broken rale, and nigh
onto a pint of hornets staid with the shirt, a
stingin' it all over; the balance on 'em, about
a gallon and a half, kept on with dad. Ho
seemed to run jiit adzactly as fast as a hor
net could fly, for it war the tightest race I
ever did see. Down thrue the grass they'
all went, the hornets makin' it look sorter
like smoke all around dad's bald head, and
he with nothin on but the bridle and nigh
onto a yard of plow-linc a sailin' behind
him.
I seed now that he was aimin' fur the
swimmin' hole in the kreek, whar the bluff
is over twenty-five feet perpendicklor to the
water, and it's nigh onto ten feet deep. To
keep up his karacter as a hoss, when he got
to the bluff he jist leaped off, or rather jist
kebt on a runnin. Kersplunge into the
creek he went; I seed the water fly plum
I above the bluff from whar I was. Now
right thar, boys, he over did the thing, if
that war what ho was after, for there's nary
hoss ever folded darned fool enough to leap
over rich a place; a mule might have dun it,
but dad waru't acting mule. I krept up to
the edge and looked over; there was old dad'.
bald head, for all the world like a peeled
onion, a bobbin' up and down, and the horn
ets a sailin' and circlin' round, turkey buz
zard fashion, and every once in a while, one
and sometimes ten, 'ud make a dip at dad's
head. lie kept up a right peart dodgin un
der, sumtimes they'd hit him, and sumtimes
theye'd hit the water, and the water was
kirered with drowned hornets.
'What en yeath are ye doin' thar, dad?'
BBL I.
'Don't (dip) you see these infarnal Tar
meats (dip) arter me?'
'What?' sez 1, 'them are hoes flies thar;
ye ain't really- afeard of them, are ye?'
'Floss flies? sez dad; 'they're rale (dip)
genuine bald hornets, you (dip) infernal
ousel'
'Well dad, you'll have to stay char till
nits, an' arter they go to roost you cum home
an' I'll feed you'. And knovcin' dad's on
modified natur I broke from them parts' and
sorter cum to the copper mines. 1 rtaid hid
out until the nett artcrnown, N 5 Lieu I said a
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4