__ .:.'• 7'7.- —,,-- . ,--- - - ---- --_._____ _ _ _ . _ __ ... _ ___ _____ ._— ___ _ _ ___ _ _ ___, . . . •..,.. `.... 5 .- 71 i • _ : -: _. --.- --..±.---: --- J .- S -" - : .._ _ • - ~. . .....-- . . ,--,- . Y . .. .- .. _ - . . • , -4-- _ t. v . - _ . :".. _ : . : • , : , 4 _:* -- : . ,i .., A _ • ....; _ .- • f,. "....7 '." . . .- ..-.., ''-= '.._ ~:' .., L -...! , J, e • . . ....t. _ ....: -it . .... . •.... ..._.... .. _. , : 11 SAMUEL •WRIGHT, Editor arid Proprietor. VOLUME XXVIII; -INUMI3EIO7;I' ItBLISHED EVERY SATURDIY'HIORNING. .. .. o.,(fice in Northern estircil•RAzgroad Com, ion . liy's 13'etiklinst,north- est col. ner front.and F Walnut streets. •. . . Terms of Subscription. pee Copy per annum. if paid in advance. if not pint] Within three int:mato (torn commencement of the year, 2OD Cp33. - tist Et. Copy. Nosub.criptaon received for a Itt., tame than 'ix trnonthx; and no paper wall he di•montinued until all at reuruges ure paid, unless at the option of the pub maybe remitted by nail ut the publish er's risk. Rates•of Advertising. I square [6 lines) one week, three week. each +uli.equeni iimertion, 1 " (12 inc.] one week. :50 4, three sveckS• 1 00 each sub yl tie l!t in‘ertion, 25 Larger advrirti.emeau. ui proportion. S liberal di.eount will be made ,to quarterly, half yearly. ory early advertt.eri,w Ito are ntra.o) euafiactl irnbeir ba.ine .•. Drs. John. Er-Rohrer, . HAVE associated in , the Practice of Col April 1At.1850.0 DR. G. W. 111114 7 LI N, DENTIST, Locust-street, a few doors above Ole Oad Pallowt: Hull, Culumbax, Pa. Columbia. 711.1 y J. N. NORTII, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR 'AT LAW. Columbia, Pa. Collecbons, promptly made, in Lancaster and York Cou Columbia, Mn am J. W. Attorney and Counsellor at Law, coiumbiu, se l ,l,nut ti _ GEORGE J. WITOI,ESALE'Iind Retail Bread and Cate Raker —Con•tuntly on hand a variety of Cakes, WO numerous to Mention' etack.ers, hULM, %Vine, Scroll, and Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of ..very description, he„ e.e. 11.0LusT Fen. Between the Bank and l'runklin House. • BROWN'S Essence of Jamaica Ginger, Gen .uine Article. For t•tile el McCOIIICI.K& P. Family Metheine Store. Odd Fellowet' July 2.1. /SS7. ,• _ QOLTITION OF CITRATE OF lIIAGNESIA,or gnu ye Mineral Witicr,--'llit4 - pleimant luediebie which to highly rceonnurailml u, n suhooute tut Epsom Salts, Scidlim Powders. A4c.. you ha 0 1, 1 , 111 ca fresh every day ut F. 11. MAUI'S Drug 'lute, Float 41. (r 2 . JEST received, a fresh supply of Corn Starch, Pa ri n a , end Riee Floor. at fdeCORKLE & DELLEI"I":4 i'omily Welkin,. Sim,. Odd Folov,,' Hall. Columbia. Columbia, Mug 30, 1,157. - _ _... T AMPS, LAMPS, LAMPS. Just received at 4 Ilereg Drug Sim e, .a new and LelltilllUi ILA 04 L:111111 , or all de-eriplion•. Kay 2. 1c157 _ ._—_____ _._ A LOT of Fret► Vanilla Brans, at Dr. E B. xx Here , GoWrit Mori. Urug Storts. Cohitni.rt. 11, 2 1.07 A NUPEttlUlt article of burning Fluid just .oat tor It A NI & A LARGE lot of City cured Dried Beef, just Yerel cd al Il aLY U. 5.11 & SON •. Columbia 11.,em110r2(1.1P5(i. Anlaa,la,r. NEW and fresh lot of Spices, just re erived 3t •UY DAM & A Dre t!0.16411. rOUNTICY Produce constantly on hand and k.) for .111 c by II :SUN-DAm HOMINY, Cranberries, Raisins, Figs, Ala. °Lids, Walnm,, Cream Nut-. .e jo.t received t•CYDA.II & Col.mhin. tn. ASUPERIOR lot of Black and Breen Tcas, coo - “, LIIQ CIIOCOIJIC.Jt1•I received at If. $1:1 DAM & C. 0 1 .111. 1 . or From ood coioo GIEEMEEZ JUST RECEIVEU.a. beautiful assortment of talus. at llrudtuurlers utici Nevi, Depot. Colunilota. April 1'3.1557. EXTIt •1 Family and Superfine Flour of the beet breed. fur rile I,y If SUYDAM & SON. IJST received 1000 lbs. extra double bolted Ituebvelleat Meal, et Dec.2o. 1356. - H. SUYDAM & ON'S. WEIKEL'S Ingtanlancons Yeast or Baking vowder. for .11e by- 11. SUYDAM h. SUN. VARR k TIIOMPKIN'S jactly celebrated Com utercsul and other Ciotti Pen•--the beet it the market—tu.t received. SUREIicER. Columbia. April 2+1.1855. V • TDITE GOODS : fall line of While Dress V Goods of every riebeription. lost ree ,l ved•ol July it, 1 , 57. FONDERSAIInrs. WHY should anyperson do without a Clock, when they can be had fore , I .50 and 11:11,rnrrts. at ti II It El NEIVO! Columbin. Aril 24.1 c 55 APO:VEFIER, or Concentrated Lye, forma soap.. 1 lb. l• •tillkient for one lonrrel of Soft Soup, or 11h.forn lbs. {lord Sonp. Full ilirec. now+ will be pile'. at the Counter for making Soil, Hard and Fancy Soups. Pot sole by IL WILLIAMS. March 31.1,155. A LARGE lot of Briskets, Brooms, Buckets dre., for •alc by H. SUYDAM N. SON. Y 111 : undersigned have been appointed nzentii for the aide of Cool: & Co'e GUTTA l'ilat tiA PENS. warruiticil tint to corrode; in e I:odic:ay they almost equal the quill. ' " SAYLOrt & :McDONit Ern. Golumbin .Inn 17.1E57 GRATII' nt,EcTnie. 011.. r.treined. D green Tupp: y ofihis popular rproPtlv. and for Ibtlitl It- WILLIA NIS. rrnat Street, coltittillia.l%..t._ VMEI ----- A LA RGP:a .•orlmemo(Roper. all sitno and lengths, /I on hand and for vale at • THOS. WELSIIBB. .111nrch 12, 1857. No. 1. High *fleet. ,TIOOTA,Or.n, GROCKKIIt... 4 ., &1., Also, Fresh 0./Burning Ju.n opennn nt THOMAS WM:SITS „March 21.1637. No. 1. H tgl. , Street. - A nTRILV lot or WIIALE AND CAR GRNASING XL OILS, received at the "torn orthe sultreriber: nom Streewfloltor b u t. l's. = 11111 ED I:xtra and Ilam•, ShOuldern 1111 ond me!. 'IIIOISIAS WPIESII. 111arett 21.1P.110. • Ilia*, street. OATS' Corn, Hay, trod atter ford:. toi wlr hy -ImA.6, wr.um. - .March 91.1,5'7 24rZEN 1311.003 ts: 110 - F,..1 C111:11:3E. For sale cheap, by - 13. F. ATTC3I.I) & CO. I abut, A vurcßion artick at pm:47oft. for orate h r "tiny 10.1F5 0 .W rront Stre R et, Coittintti lLLlAM it. Pa. - ---------- VSTRECLIVIID, a large and ,a,..tt .eiceled variety e r ornmsnew..oll4.llllZ in pan orS hoe, flair, Cloth. Crumb, Nail, list and Teeth Bru.shem. and Al r ...ate by -- - 11. %VILMA Ms. ,Alarckle; 9 36. Prool. +Waal:Columbia, Pa. • —,-.------ —— -- SUPERIOR article of TONIC sricE =Tun.% spitablefor,lietei Keepers, for sale by . R. %VI 1.1.IA:VI S. . , . May 10.15.58. Tro.ll ,•Irt•el„, ColuMbiß. ItEzin IiaIIEREAL OIL, alertly nn blind. and re 1' rale by ." R. Wlf.t.taldta.' "May 10.1adel. Fenny Street. enlunnna. Pa. JUST received, FRES li'CA NIPIIEAF,. and (or *ale by' , ' -• R.,W14.1.1A1115. Airy to, les& - Front Street. Colombia., Pa, oodT t - nma 04 (*tired tf :die and Shgolders wt 3 • .ceivca andfor pal., by _ • F0b.21, 17, H. SUTDAM, ft SON. . Etrttirg. . The Haunting Pace. care's uml thoughts give place To quickened memories, oft on me— Sudden, unthought of--elenms a face, Winch 210 011 C else C VW See. CM No space can be wahla mp It= Ilut there it haply- hes is wait; The shadows veil it in the glen, The rays reveal it On the height Dowieg:cizang . in a arcane dint lies unruffled 7 neath the placid air, I inert the hght of tinier: deep eye+, And catch the gleaming of the hair $0 3 Or as I watch the changing Skje When fleecy white the Line enshrouds, That face, as from a casement high, Looks oat through openings iii the cloOas The solid darkness of the night ' Around it forms a background deep; it ever greets we, warm uud bright, Witlam the vesubule of sleep. Unsought it comes, unhidden stays; And yet, nil dream-like tho' it be, No actual furor that meets lily pie, Has such significance for me. It tells of years that golden glide, Of joys with no regrets between, OC lifa expanded, glorified— Of other things that might have been Fair as of yore, as young, no bright, No glows it on my V/elOll now, Years Hever rob the eyes of light, Nor leave la shadow on the brow. Vet not on earth nor in the skies. Exists the (ace that 11:Duit iTIC MD; That shining hair, those beaming eyes, Faded forever, long ago. IHiste.kivootf's Magazine Abbie in the Swing. There I ~at in. passion Sulking; and there sat she, Swin„iag in the longgrapa vine, Looped from the great ash tree Sitting nt ease and singing, Tetang, dainny-fartued thing• Slender %slate feet je.nt grating The mosses under the savior,. Sunshine speekleci the grape laarea, Sunshine &int oil her hair; Odious stealthy MI/1 , 11111C: WhUt . :l bald thing you are! Oh' what gli+tcuiug shoohlere! Oh! what n cruel tvhite non. Reaching up for the bloa , orns Just on purpr.e to charm!. That little bow-fu•hieued mouth, A itniim, kisses at mine; Cugfc tutd its pulpy•red bliss! 211i.ebie volts. hut airlift:. Ih•ek'd liken little princess, l , itting It eomenuc state; Crowned with her tiger Idle% Tawdry blossoms 1 hotel Pyltinz my lint with rose, In rapid, flaunting, •bowers. %Vitahug her brook like lam:liter In and out with the flowers What eboald I do but love her Dearer than ever yell What could 1 do—all van ptielled io a net! 04..f0r a heart of marble! 0, %would peril a twit:— Dared h.• sit tinder the arbor Looking nt bbie at.utg . grirrtiint,s. Mrs. Badgery. Is there nny law which avill protect me from Mrs. Badgery? I am a bachelor, and Mrs. Bad gory is a widow. Let nobody rashly imagine that I am about to relate a commonplace grievance because I have suffered that first sentence to escape my pen. My objection to Mrs. Badgery is, not that she is too fond of one, but that she is too fond of the memory of her late husband. She has not attempt ed to marry me ; -she would' not think of marrying me even .if I asked her.— •Understand, therefore, if.you please, at the outset, that my grievance, in relation to this widow lady is a grievance of an entirely new-kind. Let me begin again, I am a bachelor of a certain age. I have a large circle of cc quaintance; but I solemnly declare that the late Mr. Dadgery was never numbered on the list of my friends. I never heard of him in any life; I never heard that he had a rel ict; I no or set eyes on Mrs. Badgery until ono fatal . moraing when I went to see if the fixtures were all right in my new house. My new house is in the suburbs of Lon don. I looked at it, liked it, took it. Three times I visited it before I scot my furniture in. Once with' a friend, once with a survey or, once by myself, to throw a sharp eye, as I bare-already intimated., over the fixtures. The third visit marked the fatal occasion on Which I first saw-Mrs. Dadgery., deep 'interest attaches to this event,. and I shall go iaito describing it. I rang the bell :to the garden door. The old woman appointed -to keep the house an-, swered it.. I directly saw seruethieg strange and confused in her face and manner. Some men would-have pondered a little and ques tioned her. I - am, by-nature, impetuous, and a rusher at conclusions. 'Drunk,' I said to myself, and walked into the house per fectly satisfied. - I looked into the front parlor- , Grate all right, eurtain polo all right, gas chandelier all right. I.looked into , the back parlor-- ditto, ditto, ditto, as we men-of business say. mounted- the steirs; back whi tlow right? - -Yes, blind on .baek window right).- I opened the door of the draw-l i ins reem-and there, sitting-, incthe middle ofthe-bareiloor, was at: large 300111101 on n little camp swot:. She was dressed .in the deepestmournine her .I*mm:was 'hidden-by the thickest crape veil I over saw,. and she wits-grottiing softly to. herself:in-that dash latsimitttide of my unfurtrishedihonse.. `'rgO,ENTERTAINVSN'T IS SO CIIEA - 11 - - - . A7S READINGi-NORTA:N i Y PL E7-1:4"11.E COLUMBIA; PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY iORNING; .00T013 . E1l 31, 0.57. What did I dof Do! I botinced back in to the landing 'AS df I had bead shot; uttering the national ex: . relatnation of terror and aston ishment: (And here I. pardon, larly beg, in Parenthesesthat the printer will follow my`spelling 'of the n-ord,'and not piat - hillo, or 11:allea, instead, both of which are.base compromises which represent no sound that ever yet issued from any English mati'S lips.) I said 'Hullo' and then turned round fiercely upon the old . woman who kept the house, and said 'Hullo!' again. She understood the irresistible appeal that I had made to her feelings, and curtsey ed and looked towards tho drawing room and humbly hoped that I was not startled or put out. I aske,d who the crape coVereX woman on the camp stool was,,and what she wanted there. ,Before the old woman could answer, the soft groaning in the drawing room ceased, and a muffled voice, speaking' from behind the crape veil, addressed me reproachfully, and said: am the widow of the late Mr. Bader; ery-2 What did I say in answer? _ ExaCtly the words which, I Batter myself, any other sea sible man in my situation would have said. And what words were they? These two: 'All, indeed!' 'Mr. Badgery and myself were the last tenants who inhabited this house,' continued the muffled voice. `Mr. Badgery died here. She ceased and the soft groans began again. It was perhaps' not necessary townswer this; but I did answer it. How? In one word: 'Our house has been long empty,' resumed the voice, choked by sobs. 'Our establish ment has long Leen broken up. Being left in reduced. circumstances, I- now live in a cottage near; but it is not home tome. This is home. However long I live, wherever I go, whatever changes may happen to this beloved house, nothing can ever prevent me looking at it as my home. I came here, sir, with Mr I3adgery after my honeymoon.— All the brief happiness of my life was once contained in these four walls. Every dear remembrance that I fondly cherish is shut up in these sacred walls.' Again the voice ceased, and again the soft groans echoed round my empty Walls, and oozed out past me down my uncarpeted stairemse. I reflected. Mrs Badgery's brief happi ness and dear remembrances were not inclu ded in the list of fixtures. Why eonld she not take them away with her? Why should she leave them littered about in the way of my furniture? I was just •thinking how could put this view of the ease strongly to Mrs. Badgery, when she suddenly left off groaning, and addressed me once more. 'While this house has been empty,' she i said; 'I have been in the habit of looking in from time to time, and renewing my tender i I associations with this phiee. 1 have lived i las it were, in the sacred memories of Mr. Bedgery and the past, which these clear, these priceless rooms call up, 'dismantled and dUsty as..they are at the present moment. 1 It has been my practice to give a remunera tion to the attendant for any alight trouble that I might occasion—' 'Only sixpence, sir,' whispered the old i woman, close at my ear. 'And to ask nothing in return,' continued Mrs. Badgcry, -'but the-permission to bring ' my camp.stool with me, and to meditate on Mr. l3adgery in the empty rooms, with every one of which some happy. thought, or elo quent ,word, or tender action of his, is so sweetly associated. I came here on m y usu al errand to-day. I am. discovered, I pre ! sums, by the new proprietor of the house— ' discovered, I am quite ready to admit, as an t • intruder. I am willing to go, if you wish ' it, after hearing my explanation. My heart 1 is full, sir; I run quite incapable of contend; fug with you. You would hardly think ,it, but I aux sitting on the spot once, occupied I by our ottoman. lam looking towards the window in which my flower-stand once I stood. In this very place, Mr. Badger.) . first !sat down and clasped . MC to his heart, when 1 we came back from our honeymoon trip.— I "Matilda " he said, , "your drawing room _ , I has been expensively papered, carpeted, for La month; but it has only been adorned, love; since you entered it." If you hava no sym pathy sir, fur such remembrances as these ifyou see nothing pitiable' in my position, taken in connection with my preence bore, if you -earinot 'enter - into my feelings, arid thOroughlY. understand that this is not a• house, but a shrine—you have only to say so, l and lam quite willing twgo.' . She spoke with the air' of a martyr--a martyr to my insensibillity. If she had been the proprietor and I hid been the in trader, she Could not have been in Ore Mourn 'fully magnanimous. All this time too"-she 1 never raised her veil—:-she never has raised it, in my presence, from that time to this- I hitve nolden whether she is young or old. lark orTair, handsome or ugly; my impres sion is;-that she is in every respect tvfinished perfect:Gorgon, but I' have no basis of feet, onwEich I can sapport- that dismal idea.L- A 'Moving Mass of crepe, and a milled voice —;that, if 'yeti drive ino telt; is nil I know, 1 inn personal poltrt of 'view, of Mrs. Badg 'Ever since my irreparable loss, this has been the sliriee Of my pilgrimage, and the altariensrworehip'.! proceeded the voice.--, 'One mammal call himself a landlord, ,and say-that he , will :let:it; another man may call.himself a tenant, and•say that he will take it.. I don't blame _either of, those two men; I only tell them that.this is my home; that my heart is still in -posesrion; and that no mortal laws, landlords,l6r teimnis cap ever turn-it oat. If jou don't 'Understand this, sir; if-the holiest feelings that do honor to our common nature have no particular sanctity in your estimation; pray do not scruple to say so; pray tell me - to' go.' I don't wish to do anything uncivil, ma'am,' said I. 'Dot I am a single man, and lam not sentimental.' (Mrs, Badgery groaned.) 'Nobody told me I was coming into a shrino when I took this house; -nobody warned me, when I first went over it, there was a heart in posession. I regret to have disturbed your meditations, and I am sorry to hear that Mr. Dadgery is dead. That is all I have to say about it; and, now, with your kind permission, I will do. myself the honor of wishing you good morning, and I will go up-stairs to look after the fixtures on the second floor.' Could I have spoken more compassionate ly to a woman whom I sincerely believe to be old and ugly? Where is the man to be I fonud who can lay his hand on his heart, and honestly say that he ever really pitied the sorrows-of a Gorgon? Search through the whole surface of a globe; and you will discover human phenomena of all sorts but you will not find that man. . To resume. I made her a bow, and left her on the camp-stool, in the middle of the drawing-room floor, exactly as I had found her. I ascended to the second floor, walked I into the back room first, and inspected the grate. It appeared to be a little out of re pair, so I stooped down to look at - it closer. While I was kneeling over the bars, I was violently startled by the fall of one large drop of warm water, from a great height, exactly in the middle of a bald place, Which ; has been widening a great deal of late years on the top of my head. I turned on my knees and looked round. Heavens and earth! the crape-covered woman had followed me up stairs—the source from which the I drop of water had fallen wets no other than Mrs. iladgery's eve. 'I wish you could contrive not to' cry over the top of my head, ma'am,' said I. My patience was becoming exhausted, and I spoke with considerable asperity. The curly-headed youth of the present _age may not be able to sympathize with my feelings on this occasion; but my bald brethren know, as well a, I do, that the most unpar donable of all , I:berties is a liberty taken with the unguarded top of the human head.' Mrs. Badgery did not seem to bear me. When she had dropped the tear, she was! standing exactly over me, looking down at the grate; and she never stirred an inch; after I had spoken. 'Don't cry over ;my! head, ma'am,' I repeated, inure irritably! than before. `Thi`s was his dresing-room,' said Mrs. Badgery, indulging in muffled soliloquy.— "He was singularly particular about his shaving water. Ile always liked to have it in a little tin pot, and he, invariably desired that it might be placed on this hob: She groaned again, and tapped one side of the grate with the le g of her camp-stool. If I had been a woman, or if Mrs. Badgery had been a man, I should now have pro ceeded to extremities, and should harp vin dicated my right to my own house by on appeal to physical force. Under existing circumstances, all that I could do was to express my indignation by a glance. The glance produced. nit the slightest result— and no wonder. Who can look at a woman with any effect, through a crape veil? I retreated into the second floor front room, and instantly shut the door after me. The next moment I heard the rustling of the crape garments out..ide, and the muffled voice of Mrs.'Badgery poured' lamentably through the ley hole. 1 'Do you mean to make that your bed -1 room?' asked the voice on the other side of the door. 'Oh, don't, don't make that your bed-room! - I am going away directly—but, oh pray, pray let that one room be sacred! Don't sleep there! If yen can possibly help it, don't sleep there!' . - I opened the window, and lOoked up and down the road. If I had seen a policeman iin liail I should certainly have called him tin. No such person was visible. I shot the 1 'window again, and warned Mrs. Badger - 1 through the door, in my sternest tone.,, not to interfere with my domestic arrangements. i I mean to have my bedstead put up here,' t I I said. 'And what is more, I mean to sleep here. And what is more, I mean to snore! here!' Severe, I think, that last sentence? I ilt completely crushed Mrs. Badgery for the I Imoment. I heard the crape garments sust-1 ling.away from the door; I heard the muf fled groans going slowly and solemnly dawn 1 the stairs again. " - -; ' In due course of time, I :111 , 1) descended to the ground floor. Had Mrs. Bedg,erYtreallY left the premises? I looked - into the front , parlor—empty. Back parlor—empty.: Any f other room on the ground •floor? ' Yes; a ; long room at the end of the passage.. The 1 door was closed. I opened lt earrtio n gy; 1 and peerlecl in. A faint , scream, -and . a smack of two distractedly clasped •Irands't saluted my appearance. There she 'wni; again on the camP•stool,agriisli:ting_sx actly it't the middle of the floor. •, ' - 'Don't, don't 104 in, in that way!' Cried Mrs. Badgers, A:Tinging/3er hail di. 'I could bear at in another room, butt can't hear it in this. Every . Monday naVtatni I looked out the things for this' so,sh in this r00n5.._77. He was difficult' to Plettsciabotit his linen; the washerwcitrian never' put starch enough into:his collars to satisfy him. Oh, .how often - and - often has he yopPedhis:head in here, as You popped "yours just now; and said; in hiS . amlising way; "INfOre starch!' Oh, - how droll he always was—how very, very droll in this dear little back room!' I said nothing. The situation had now got beyond wOrds". I stood with the door in my hand, looking down the passage towards the garden, and waiting doggedly fur 'Airs. Badgery to g,i) out. My plan succeeded. She rose, sighed, shut up the eamp-stoOl, stalked along the passage, paused on the hall mat, said to herself, 'sweet, sweet spot!' descended the steps, groaned along the gravel walk, and disappeared from view at last through the garden-ddor. 'Let her in again at your peril,' said I to the woman who kept the house. She curt seyed end trembled.- I left the premises, satisfied with my own' conduct under very trying circumstances; delusively convinced, also, that I had done with Mrs. Badgery. The neat day I sent in the furniture.— The most unprotected object on the face of this earth is a house when the furniture is going in. The doors must he kept open: and employ as many servants as you may, nobody can be depended on as a deinestic sentry so long as- the van is at the gate.— The confusion of 'moving in' demoralizes the steadiest disposition, and there is no such thing as a properly guarded post from the top of the house to the bottom. How the invasion was managed. how the surprise . 1 was effected, I know not; but it is certainly the fact, that when my furniture went in, the inevitable Mrs. Badgery went in along with it. I have some very choice engravings, after the old masters; and I was first awakened to a consciousness of Mrs. Badgery's pres snee in the house while I-was hanging up my proof-impression of Titan's Venus over the front parlor fire-place. 'Not there cried the muffled voice, imploringly. 'Him portrait used to bang there. Oh, what a print—what a dreadful, dreadful print to put where his dear portrait used to be!' - I turned round in a fury. There she was, still muffled up in crape, still carrying her abominable camp-stool. Before I could say a word in remonstrance, six men in green baize aprons staggered i n with my sideboard, and Mrs. Badgery suddenly dkappcared.— Had they trampled her under foot, or crushed her in the doorway? - Though not an inhuman man by nature, I asked myself those questions quite composedly. No very long time elapsed before they were practically answered in the negative by the re-appearance of Mrs. Badgers her self, in a perfectly unruffled condition of chronic grief. In the course of the day I had my toes trodden on, I was knocked about by my own furniture, the six men in baize aprons dropped all sorts of small arti cles over me in going up and down stairs but Mrs. Badgery escaped unscathed. Every time I thought she had been turned out of the house she proved, on the contrary, to Le groaning close behind me. She wept over Mr. Badgery's memory in every room, per-1 fectly undisturbed to the last, by tbc chaotic confusion of meting in. lam not sure, hut I think she brought a tin box of sandwiches with her, and celebrated a tearful picnic of her own in the groves of my front garden.— I say I am not sure of this ; but I am posi tively certain that I never entirely got rid of her all day ; and I know to my cost that' she insisted on making use as well acquaint oil with Mr. Badgery's favorite notions and habits as I am with my own. It may in terest the reader if I report that my taste in . carpets is not equal to Mr. I3adgery's ; that my ideas on the subject of servants' wages are not so generous as Mr. Badgery's ; and ! that I, ignorantly persisted in placing a sofa in the position which Mr. Badgery, in his' time, considered to he particularly fitted for an armchair. I could go nowhere, look no- Where, do nothing, say nothing, all that day, without bringing the widowed incubus in the crape garments down upon me immediately. 7 tried civil remonstrances, I tried rude speeches, I tried sulky silence—nothing had the least effect on her. The memory of Mr. Badgery was the shield of proof with which she warded off my fiercest attacks. Not till the last article of furniture had boon moved 'in, did I lose sight of her; and even then she had not really left the house. One of my six men in green baize aprons routed her out of the back garden area, where she was telling my servants, With floods of tears, 1 of Mr. Badgery's, virtuous strictness with his bouse-maidln the of followers.— My admirable man in greeh - baize courage ously saw her out, and shut the gardendbar after her. I gave him half a crown on the spot ; and if anything-happens to him, Tana : ready le - make the future prosperityof his fatherless family my awn peculiar carej The next :day was Sunday: — I - attended morning service nt my ne . W Parish , _'elMrch- . A popular preacher had teen :announced, and the building ens croß ded 7advanced a little way up the rare; and ;looked to any right;and Fair no_ roota. Before could look tai, my left, I felt ahattd laid"persuasi rely ou royartn. Iturned redrid—zand there was Mr's. Badgers, with lierPeW-door open: soleMiilY beckoning me in... Th e -crowd had closed up behind' nie ; the - eyes of a dozen members of fhe - oongreealion,lat least were fixed onnie.: I had no, choige, but to save appearance's and aceeptthe.dreadful,thrita 'tion. There was a:vacant Place'ne.rt to the door Of the pew- Y tried Lo tlroF f ate 4;1,4 MUMEMI ,PE33,,TRAIL- IN ADVANCE; 82,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE. Mrs. Badgeiy stopped me. 'His seat,' bhe whispered, and signed to me to-pluce myself on the other side of her. It is unnecessary to say that I had to - climb over a hassock, and that I knocked down - all Mrs. Badgery's devotional books before rbucceeded in pas sing between her and the front of the pew. She cried uninterruptedly through tho ser %ice ; composed herself'when it was over: and began to tell me what Mr. Badgery's opinions had been in points of abstract the ology. Fortunately there was great confu sion and crowding at the door of the church ; and I escaped, at the hazard of my life, by running round the back of the carriages. I passed the interval between services al.me in the fields, being deterred from going home by the fear that Mrs. Badgery might have get there before me. . Mi.mdaY came. r positively ordered my servants to let no lady in deep mourning pass inside the garden-door, without lires consul ling me. , After that. feeling tolerably secure, I occupied myself in 'arranging my books and prints. 1 hal not pursued this employment much more than an hour, when lone of my servants burst excitably into the room, tin 1 informed me that a lady in deep mourning had been taken faint, just outside my door, and had requested leai•c to come in and sit down for a few innments. I ran down the garden-path to holt the door, and arrived just in time to see it violently pushed open by an officious and sympathising, crowd. They drew away on either side as they saw me. There she was, leaning on the grocer's shoulder, with the butcher's boy in attend ance carrying her camp-stool ! Leaving my servants to do what they liked with her, I ran back and locked myself up in my he•i room. When she evacuated the premises some hours afterwards, I received a message inuapology, informing , me that this particu lar Monday was the sad anniversary of her wedding-day, and that she hod been taken faint, in consequence, at the sight of her lost husband's house. Tuesday forenoon passed away happily, without any new invasion. After lunch, I thought I would go out and take a walk.— My garden-door has a sort of peephole in it covered with a wire grating. As I got close to the grating, I thought I saw something mysteriously dark on the outer side of it.— I I bent my bead down to look through, and I instantly found myself face to fare with the crape veil. ' Sweet, sweet spot !' sail the muffled voice, speaking straight into my ears through the grating. The usual groans fol lowed, and the name of Mr. Bedgery was plaintively proneunced before r could re- I cover myself sufficiently to retreat to the house. Wednesday is the d.ty on which I am ) writing this narrative.. It is not twelve o'clock yet, and there is every probability I that some new fhrm of sentimental persecu tion is in store for me before evening. Thus ;far these lines contain a: perfectly true state ment of Mrs. Badgery's conduct towards me since I entered on the possession of my house and her shrine. What am Ito do?— • • ; that is the point I wish to insist on—what am rto do? How ant Tto • get away from the memory of Mr. Iladgery, and the unap peasable grief of his disconsolate widow ? i Any other species of invasion it is possible to resist ; but how is a man placed in my unhappy and unparalleled circumstances to I defend himself? I can't keep a dog ready to fly at Mrs. Badgery. I can't charge her lat a police court with being oppressively fond of the house in which her husband died. I can't set mantraps for a woman, or , prosecute a weeping widow as a trespag..er ; and a nuisanee. I am helplessly involved in the unrelaxing, folds of Mrs. Tladgery's crape veil. Surely there was no exaggera tion in my language when I said that I was I . a sufferer under a perfectly new grievance l! Can anybody advise me ? Has anybody had I even the faintest and remotest experience of i the peculiar farm of persecution under which I ant now suffering ? If nobody bee, is there luny legal gentleman in the united kingdom who can answer the all-important question which appears at the head of this narrative? I began by asking that question because it was uppermost in my mind. It is upper most in my miad still, and I therefore beg leave to conclude appropriately by asking it again: Is_there any law hi Ingland which will protect me from Aire. Badgery 2 The Mysterious Itranor Helm. 711n31 the rn.r.3:cir ' It was one Friday evening of the month of December, 1725. The greatest silence reigned on the road towards Orleans, which was at last 'broken by the bound of horses apparently, approaching; shortly two riders came in sight, and one might have heard from theta the following conversation: Utlasi we are" arrival at this niysterrou, , chateau.' 'Not yet, Alfred de COurry.' Our two travelers following this rout,' hnd reached on old manor house, vhi 1i wns fast failing is decay. A peasant called out to them, 'What are you doing there? that chat eauis the abode of goblins and evil geniuses; for. more than a hundred .yearn nobody heal dared to - enter it.' •TVhat difference does that make?' replied Alfred de Gainey. with au air of skepticism; 'stories about dead men coming back again were useful, Sera:lady, to frighten. women and children, but now they do not amount I to anything : llElT ;7taTirilkiiiitiliii - dightest trepidedon he entered. The other caraliei [WHOLE NUMBER, 1,421. and the peasant drew back in astonishment. The staircase of the house almost sank un der the footsteps of our young dare devil.— mounted boldry, and seeing a. door before him he advanced toward it. The door opened of itself! 'What's the matter there?' he cried in as tonishment; `nobody lives in this old chat- Mai I 'This old chateau,' was echoed baele to him, and again the most profound silence fell urea all about him. Ile entered a gal lery, and the moonlight streaming through a window lent au air ofdiabolism to an apart ment which would otherwise have been no way remarkable. 'Como on, courage!' ho said to himself, and the most frightful si lence succeeded these words, which was bro ken only by the sound of his footsteps.. He continued his Walk. — At the cud Of the gal lery be found a bed-room, the only frirnittiro' being a bed, and a table upon which helard his pistols. Midnight sounded from the clock of the neighboring church; the moon was covered by a cloud, and the deepest ob scurity reigned throughout the room.— Precntly the sound of chains was heard, and then a muffled voice pronounced these ciaz •Who are you, rash young man? why do you thus come to my abode?' and instantly a cold hand seized hold of Alfred, who caught up his pistols. 'Man or devil,' said ho, 'depart, or-I'll kill von!' The phantom langbed. 'Quit this room or I fire.' 'V ire if you like, returned the phantom. The report of fire arms was heard; Alfred had discharged his pistols at the ghost, but the balls bounded back to him agnin. 'lmpotent attempt,' said the spirit; 'the weapons of man are destitute of power over us.' Alfred became almost rigid with terror.— Ile trembled before the spirit, which ad roam' toward him. At last ho seized his i sword and attempted to strike with it, but the sword flew out of his hand with a clash. Then came a voice which said: `You have trembled for the first time in your life, Alfred do Courey; and all foil back again into the most profound silence. The cloud which obscured the moon passed off, and the dead body of Alfred de Courey lay stiff upon the chamber floor. The next day it was reported in the neigh borhood that a young cavalier had entered the chateau, and had not been seen to come out again; but nobody dared to go near the manor house in order to ascertain his fate. Ten years after, one day during the year 1735, some persons who had stopped in front of the chateau, a, short distance off, saw a monk enter. Consternation was at its height, when, after about a quarter of an hour, he was seen to.come out; every one ran up to him to ask him who inhabited it. 'No one,' was his reply. 'How,' they cried on all sides; 'some years ago a young man went in there, and never was seen to come out again;' 'lt was I who assasiunted him,' returned the monk, 'yes, I.' 'Tell us how,' they all demanded. 'The recital is too painful for me, have pity on me—spare we this. Ye% I killed my friend; I alone was the cause of his death.' And when they insisted on having the story, he spoke nearly as follows: 'For a long time this chateaultad had the reputation of being haunted. One day, in the year 17'25, ns I was speaking of it with Alfred do Courcy, be smiled. "What, you doubt," said I; "do you not believe in ghost:.?" • "I'll luy n wager," he returned, "thet. I will pass a whole night there without trem bling." 'A month after we directed onr course to the old chateau. I had drawn the balls from my friend's pistols, I had taken away the blade of his sword and replaced it- by one of glass; I covered myself with a white sheet, and toward midnight catered the room where he was. Ile attempted to fire at me but I threw back his balls; lie tried to strike inc with his sword, but it broke in,pieees— when, alas! he fell down in a swoon. I threw myself upon him, but the swoon was —death! Since that time my crime has been constantly present to my mind; I was guilty of murder. I became a monk, and I leave my retreat once a year, the anniversa ry of the crime I have committed.' The monk burst into tears and departed. Since then, no one has feared to cuter tho old chateau, which, having changed hando and been restored from its state of decay and ruin, is now occupied as the country seat of a nobleman's. family. rDs..A certain cockney bluebcard, over come by sen.iLility, fainted at the grave of his fourth spouse. "What east we do with him?" asked a perplexed friend of his. - "Let him alone," said a waggish hy-stan der; "he'll soon remive." sa-S peaking of lions--that was tan Idea' of the hard-shell preacher, wbo was discours ing of Daniel in the den of lions. Said he: 'There ho set alt - night, looking at the silo . * for nothing; it didn't cost him a cent!' A Ilictap4o - SENSIMENT. — The r . following . sentiment was given at a recent railroad fes tival held in Cleveland. Ohio: par .ifogers--''ho only faithful fenders wbo starer misplaced a switch. •
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers