__ .:.'• 7'7.- —,,-- . ,--- - - ---- --_._____ _ _ _ . _ __ ... _ ___ _____ ._— ___ _ _ ___ _ _ ___,
. . . •..,.. `.... 5 .- 71
i • _ : -:
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--.- --..±.---: --- J .- S -"
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t. v . - _ . :".. _ : . : • , : , 4 _:* -- : . ,i .., A
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. ....t. _ ....: -it .
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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. •