..• . •
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SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXVIII, NUMBER. 24.1
.PUBLISIIED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
Office in Northern entral Railroad Com
pany's Braiding, north-west corner Front and
fWidnut streets.
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i.brr.
lry - Money may be remitted by mail at the publish
er'e risk. . .
Rates of Advertising.
square lines] one week, $0 22
three week•
each +ulisequent insertion, 10
1 " [l2:ine•] one week. in
three weeks, l 00
each gul;.equent insertion,
Larger advertisement. to proportion.
A liberal cli.count will be mode to quarterly, half
yearly or yearlyndverti,ers,who are strictlyeonfmed
to their buiiineor.
Drs. John & Rohrer,
AVE associated in the Practice of Medi-
Col lApril I qt. ISM-if
DR. G. W. MIFFLIN,
DENTIST, Locust street, a few doors above
the Odd Fellow , ' Ilnlh Columbia, Pa.
Columbia. May 3. 1E56.
H. M. NORTH,
ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW.
COILIMiI in. Pa.
Collection!, l romptly made, in Lanca.tcr and York
Conittie,
enlurnltin. May 4,1950.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
ca."4.3.33CL1=01..M.
Col ambia, :Septruntwr 1,60.11
GEORGE 3. SMITH,
-WHOLESALE and Retail Bread and Cake
Baker —Constantly on hand a variety of Cakes.
too numerous to mention; Crackers; Soda, ine, Scroll.
and Sugar Biscuit, Confectionery. of every description,
he., ex. LOCUST STRIZET,
Feb. 2,'5G. Between the Bank and Franklin louQe.
CORN Starch, Farina, Rice Flour, Tapioca,
%_./ Sago, Out Mrttl. Arrow Root Ace . at the
FAMILY MEDICINE SPORE.
Odd Fellow.' non.
Sept 9.6. *s7_
JUST received, three dozen Dr. Brunon's
tVegetable Miters. a certain core for Dy•spepsia:
also. a fresh lot of , ap Sago nod Pane Apple Cheese.
Farina and ('ors Starch, at D 111:RWS
Sept 5, 1657. Grocery and Liquor Store.
HAIR DYE'S, Jones' Batchelor's, Peter's and
Egyptian hair dyes warranted to color the hair
any desired shade, without iajury to the skin. For sale
I . R. WILLIAMS.
May ID, Front ct., Columbia. Pn.
Jr ---
I received, a fresh supply of Kennedy's
Dt , coverv.llllll for .1.1, by
It WILLIAMS, Fro.alstrcet.
Columbin. June t 27. 1!-57.
111111 WIN'S ESsCHCC of Jamaica Ginger, Gen
-41./C Article. Furs le at
Sz. DP.I.I.F.TT'S
rovoily 51ediclue ...tore. Odd Fellow.' Hall.
Inlw 165.
goiontiN OF CITRATE OF ALIONESIA,or Pur
gative Mineral Wiiier.—Thi- plen.ani medicine
which 1• highly recommended n ,11"ditute for
Salik.izeollii7 Powders. Sc.. can he olliained
fresh every day at Lin. B. 11. HEIM:3 Drug store.
Front at. Ir 2
j[ST received, a fresh supply of Corn
el ::arch, rdriun, nod Ilim• Flon r. at
Al crtifit IC LL h DEI.T.ETT'S
Mr ,hrine Odd Hall. Columbia
Cottnton. ANN' :10, 1957.
TAMPS, LAMPS, LAMPS. Just received at
Here.+ Drug Siore, a new alai beaututul lot of
Lamp. of all le caption..
May 2. 1557
A LOT of Fresh Vanilla Brans, at Dr. E B.
!fere, Golden sloriar Drug . 6tore.
Columbia, Ma v 2.1%:17
A'SUPERIOR article of burning Fluid just
revel veil 11111 i for by If SU VOA SUN.
ALARGE lot of City cured Dried Beef, just
e I
viii lit 11 515 DAM a. SONS.
Columbus Doeember 10. 1..5G
ITOOFLINIPS German Bitters. For sale at
A1E1'011141.1.: h DF:1.1.1•11"1".
Family Medirimi Odd Fellowis' Il all.
July '25 1.,57
lIOUNTRY Produce constantly on band an d
(or -.tic by II S111'1)01 A, SON
HOMINY, Cranbaries, Raisins, Figs, Alm
onds, ‘Valliut4, Cream Nut-, e .m.l received
11. eVIDAM h eoYS.
Colambin. TN, V 0.1,1513
ASUPERIOR lot of Black and Green Teas,
Coffee and Clioecilate.juiit received at
n , I•13/1 , 1
Conn . , - of Front and Union
Dec. 20. 1 4;6
JUST RECEIVED. a beautiful assortment of
Gla•s Ink tnands, at the Headquarters and
Nevi, Depot
eatunthm
BIEICEEI
XTRA Family And Superfine Flour of the
ben brand. far , ale by II SUN - DANI & SON.
TEST received 1000 lbs. extra double bolted
llael.w•beat Meal, at
ilee.tei. 1N56. 11. SUYDAM & SON'S.
WEIKEL'S Instantaneous Yeas' or Baking
l'osvler. (or •oile toy 11. SUVDA 51 SON.
WARR & THOMPSON'S justly celebrated Com
l.! mcrein I and oilier Gold Pen•--the bent in the
laarket-lu•t received. P. SIIIIEINEEL
Columbia. April
WHITE GOODS.---Afoll line of White Dress
Gond , . of every description. pot received. nt
July 11. I'ONDERSMITII'S
WAY should anyperson do without a Clock,
when they can be had f0re...1.50:1nd upward..
at 8H It INN ER'S?
CMumbin.ArtF 4 l s
QAPONEFIER, or Concrntratcd Lye, for ma
k,' king Soap. I lb. k gulTieleut for one barrel of
. B oft Soup. or Ilb.for Ric. Hard Snap roll direr
,?..ion% will he given at the Counter for making Soil,
vlard and Fancy souptt. For sale by
K. WILLIASIS.
CAIIIIMI,III. March 31.1915.
JAE GRATH'S F;LECTRIC 01%. Ju•t reeelYe I.
fresh supply till popular remedy. and for .ale
11. WILLIAMS.
front Street. CM umlan. rti._
WM
LARG essorinteni of Rap,. .d7r./ R nti
.C 1 on hand and for cal.:. at THOS. NV F.1.5.1-I'S.
March /2, 1:57. No. 1. High street.
A NEV lot of witALE AND CAR GREASING
LI OILS, received or the store of the euh•crther.
R. WILLIAMS.
Emu, meet. Colaraltin. Pa.
May 10. 1.50
2.0002 E N rinooms, 1.0 BOXI:S 1-'or
Anlr ellenp. by IS . r. APPOLD & CO.
• Columbia.. OcToher 25. I 'SY — ~.
A SUPERIOR artie;e of PAINT OIL. for •n lr by
Map' 10, 1 tis 6. Front Street, Columbia, Pa
RF.cluvr.n. n Inrce and well welerird vntwly
Oruro - 1w ... nsz in pan of Shoe. Hair, Cloth,
crumb, Pinil.llat and Teeth Bru.hen, nod for ea le by
K. WILLIAMS.
Front Wert Colurnlon. Pa
1=
ASUPERIOR article ofTONIC - sru; E BITTERS ,
1 , 01411,1 e for Hotel Keepers, for Cole by
R. %VILMA:IIS.
Trout sheet,
May 10. I S4G
rREII ETII/31.11AL okra} , on ',nod. node,
111 . 0 Inc_ R. WILLIAMS.
May 10.1950. Front Si met. Columbia!, Pa.
JUST received, ;MESH CA:lli , ligNin. and ill,- Fide
by It. WILLIAMS.
May 10,1956. Prom Street. Columbia, Pa.
1000 1 . .135. New C urrd City llnms and Shoulder"
'rat to-caved and for oale by
Frb.2l. SFYUtbIrhSON.
utty.
The Wind and Stream
EE=
S 1 50
A Brook came stealing from the ground;
You scarcely saw its silvery gleam
Among the herbs that hung around
The borders of that winding stream—
A pretty stream, a placid stream,
A softly gliding. bashful stream.
A Breeze came wandering from the sky,
Light as the whispers of a dream;
Ile put the o'erhangiag grasses by,
And gayly stooped to kiss the stream,
The pretty stream, the flattered stream,
The clay, yet mireluetant stream.
The Water, as the wind passed o'er,
Shot upward many a glancing beam,
Dimpled and quivered more and more,
And tripped along a livelier stream—
The flattered stream, the simpering stream,
The fond, delighted, silly stream.
Away the airy wanderer flew,
To where the fields with blossoms teem,
To sparkling springs and rivers blue,
And left alone that little stream—
The flattered stream, the cheated stream,
The sad, foniken, lonely stream.
The: Wind no more came back;
He wanders yet the field+, I deem;
But on its melancholy track
Complaining, went the little stream—
The cheated stream, the hopeless stream,
The ever murmuring, moaning .wean,.
Atlantic Monthly
From Dickens' Household Wools
The Leaf:
Thou art cured nod tender and smooth, young leaf
With a creamy fringe of dowu,
A, thou slippeqt at touch of the light, young leaf,
From thy cradling case of brown.
Thou art soft as an infant's hand, young leaf,
When it fondles a mottoes cheek;
Aid thy elderl are cluster'd around, young leaf,
To shelter the fair and weak.
To welcome thee out from the bud, young leaf,
There arc iiirr from the cart and the west;
And the rich dew glider from the clounr. young !en(
To Ilestie tvtthin thy breast.
The great wide heaven, and the earth, young leaf,
Arc arcmild. and the place for thee.
Come forth! fur a thread art thou. young leaf,
In the web-work of mystery!
Thou art full mid firmly set, green leaf,
fake a strong man upon the earth;
And thou slum est n sturdy f rout, green leaf,
As a Mucld to thy place of birth.
There i. pleasant rest ia thy shade. green leaf,
And thou inaliest u burp for the breeze;
And the blossom that bends front thy base, green leaf,
Is loved by the summer bees.
The small bird's nest on the Lough, greets Ica,
has thee for an :ample roof;
And the butterflies cool their wings, green leaf,
On thy branching, braided woof.
Thou art doing thy part of good. green leaf,
A d shrddiog thy ray of grace;
There's a lesson writen in thee green lent,
For the eye of man to trace.
Thou art rough. and shrived, and dry, old leaf,
And ha•t lost the (range of down;
And the green of thy youth is gone, old leaf,
And tainted to yellow and brown.
There are , mern of thine trod in clay. old leaf,
And in mollen rivet, drawled;
Alt: but thou tremblest much, old lent,
Looting down to the greedy ground,
The autumn !dam, with thy doom, old Ica
Corned] quickly, and avi:l not •pore,
Thou art kin to the duet to-day. old leaf,
And to-morrow thou heat there.
For thy work of life k done. old leaf,
And now there itt need of thy death.
Be eonttnt. 'Twill he all for the beet, old leaf,
There k love in the •laymg breath.
glitttitlit,s.
A Third Bowl.
'Draw your chair close up. Put your
feet on those skins. You will find them
soft and warm. Light another pipe, and
fill your glass, Philip. It is a bitter night.
My old bones shudder when I hear the wind
wail over the house and through the oak
tree. Capital punch, that! John has a
knack at that article that I hare rarely seen
equalled—never surpassed. He is a prince
of a servant, that John, if he is black—let
me see, it must be thirty years at least—it
is thirtytwo years next Christmas week.
and I hare never quarreled with him, and
he has never quarreled with me, a rare his
tory for master and man. I think it is be
cause we love each other's weaknesses.—
Here he comes.
'John, another howl of punch, if you
please. What! not another? Certainly man
I must have it. This is only the second, and
Philip yonder, has drank half, of course.—
Not drank any! You don't mean to say
that he has been drinking that vile claret
blessed evening? Philip, yOu dog, I
thought you knew my house-rules better
than that. But you would always have
your own way.
'One more bowl, John—but one. It
shall be the last; and, John, got the old
Maraschino, one of the thick, black bottles
with the small necks; and open it gently.—
But you know how, old fellow, and just do
your best to make us comfortable.
'llow the wind blows! Philip, my boy,
I am seventy-three years old and seven
days over. My birth-day was a week ago
to-day.
'An old bachelor! Yea, verily, one of the
oldest kind. But what is nge? 'What is
the paltry sum of seventy years? Do you
think I am any older in my soul than I was
half a century ago? Do you think be
cause my heart beats slower, that my
mind thinks more slowly, my feelings
spring up less freely, my hopes are less
buoyant, less cheerful, if they look for
ward only weeks instead of years? I tell
you, bny, that seventy :rea,rs are a day in
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 19, 1857.
the sweep of memory; and once young, for
ever young, is the motto of an immortal
soul. I know I am what men call old; I
know my cheeks are wrinkled like ancient
parchment, and my lips are thin, and my
head gray, even to silver. But in my soul I
feel that I am young, and I shall be young
until the earthly ceases and the unearthly
and eternal begins.
'I have not grown one day older than I
was at thirty-two. I have never advanced
a day since then. All my life long since
that, has been one day—one short day; no
night, no rest, no succession of hours, events
or thoughts has marked my advance.
'Philip, I have been living forty years by
the light of one memory—by the side of one
grave.
'John, set the bowl down on the hearth.--
You may go. You need not sit up for me.
Philip and I will se each other to our rooms
to-night, John. Now go, old fellow, and
sleep soundly.
'Phil, she was the purest angel that flesh
ever imprisoned, the most beautiful child of
Eve. I can see her now. Her eyes raying
the light of heaven—her brow, white, calm
and holy—her lips wreathed with the bles
sing of her smile. She was as graceful as a
form seen in dreams, and she moved through
the scenes around her as you have seen the
angelic visitors of your slumbers move
through crowded assemblies, without efThrt,
apparently with some supernatural aid.
'The child of -wealth, she was fitted to
adorn the splendid house in which she was
born and grew to womanhood. It was a
grand old place, built in the midst ofa growth
of oaks that might have been there when
Columbus discovered America, and seemed
likely to stand a century longer. They are
standing yet, and the wind to-night makes
a wild lament through their branches, that
sounds mournfully above her grave.
I must pause to recall the scenery of the
old familiar spot. There was a stream of
water that dashed down the rocks a hundred
yards from the house, and which always
kept full and fresh an acre of pond, over
which hung maples and willows, and other
trees, while on the surface the white blossom
of the lotus nodded lazily on the ripples with
Egyptian sleepiness and languor.
•The old house 1.1719 built of dark stone
and had a massive appearance, not relieved
by the sombre shade in which it stood. The
sunshine seldom penetrated to the ground
in the summer months, except in one spot,
just in front of the library windows, where
it used to lie and sleep in the grass, as if it
loved the old place. And if sunshine loved
it, why should not I?
'Gen. Lewis was one of the pleasant, old
fashioned men, now gone quite out of mem
ory, as well as out of existence. He loved
his horses, his dogs, his place and his punch.
He loved his nephew, Tom, wild, uncouth,
rough cub as ho was; hut above horses dogs,
or house, or altogether, he loved his daugh
ter, Sarah, and I loved her too.
'Yes you may look at me as you will,
Phil, I loved Sarah Lewis, and, by all the
gods, I love her now as I loved her then, and
I shall love her again if I meet her where
she has gone.
'Call it folly, call it boyish, call it- old
man's second childhood, I care not by what
name you call it; it is enough that to-night
the image of that young girl stands before
me splendidly beautiful in all the holiness
of her young, glad life, and I could bow
down on my knees and worship her now
ME
'Why did I say again? For forty years I
have not cca••ed to worship her. ]f I kneel
to pray in the morning, she passes between
me nod God. If I would read the prayers
at evening twilight, she looks up at me from
the page. If I would worship on a Sabbath
morning in the church, she looks down on
me from some unfathomable distance, some
unapproachable height, and I pray to her
as she were my hope, my heaven, my all.
'Sometimes in winter nights I feel a cold
ness stealing over me, and icy fingers are
feeling about my heart, as if to grasp and
still it. I lie calmly, quietly, and I think
my hour is at hand; and through the gloom
and through the mists and films that gather
over vision, I see her afar ofF, still the same
angel in the distant heaven, and I cry aloud
on God to let me go and find her, and on
her to come to me, and then thick darkness
settles on me.
'The doctor call.; this arinplexy, and says
I shall some day die in a fit of it. What do
doctors know of the tremendous influences
that are working on our souls? He, in his
scientific stupidity, calk it a disease, and
warns me against wine and high living; as
if I did not understand At hat it is, and why
my vision at such times roaches so very far
into the deep unknown.
'T have spoken of Tom Lewis, her cousin,
Rumor said he was the old man's heir in
equal proportion with the daughter; for he
bad been brought up in the family, and had
always been treated as a son. He was a
good fellow if he was rough, for lie had the
goodness that all who came within her in
fluence must have.
have seen her look the devil out of him
often. I remember once when the horses
behaved in a way not to suit him, and he
had let an oath or two escape his lips prepar
atory to putting on the whip. We were
riding together down the avenue, and he
raised the lash. At the moment he caught
her eye. Sho was walking up from the
lodge, whore she had been to see a sick
child. She saw the raised whip, and her
eye caught his. lie did not strike. The
horses escaped for that time. He drove
them quietly through the gate, and three
miles and hack without a word of anger.
'Did I tell you I was her cousin also?—
On her mother's side. Not on the General's.
We lived not far off, and I lived much of my
time at his house. Tom and myself had
been inseparable, and we did not conceal
our rivalry from each other.
'Tom,' said I, one morning, 'why can't
you be content with half the General's for
tune, and let me have the other half?'
`Bah! Jerry,' said he, 'as if that would
Le any more even, when you want Sarah
with it. In heaven's name, take half the
money, if that's all you want.'
`Can't we fix it so as to make an even di
vision, Tom? Take all the fortune, and let
me have her, and I'll call it square.'
`Just what I was going to propose to you.
Be reasonable now, .Jerry, and get out of
time way. You must see she doesn't care a
copper for you.'
I twirled a rosebud in my fingers that
she had given me that morning, and replied:
'Poor devil: I (lid not think you could he
so infatuated. Why, Tom, there is no
chance for you under the sun! But go
ahead; find it out as yen will. I'm sorry
fur you.'
'A hundred such pleasant talks the used
to have, and she never gave either of us one
particle more of encouragement than the
other. She was like a sister to us both, and
neither dare break the spell of our perfect
happiness by asking her to be more.
'And so time passed on.
'One Sunday afternoon we were off to
gether on horseback, all three of us, over the
mountain and down the valley. We were
returning toward sunset, sauntering along
the road, clown the side of the hill.
'Phil, stir the fire a little. The bowl of
punch is getting cold, it seems to me, and I
am a little chilly myself. Perhaps it is the
recollection of that day that chills me.
I had made up my mind if opportunity
occurred, to tell her that day, all that I had
thought for years. I had determined to
know, once fur all, if she would love me or
'lf not, I would go I cared not where; the
world was broad enough, and it should be
to some place where I should never see her
face again, never hear her voice again, never
bow down and worship her magnificent
beauty again. I will go to Russia and offer
myself to the Czar, or to Syria, and fight
with :Napoleon, or to Egypt and serve with
the men of Murad Bey. All notions were
military, I remember, and all my ideas were
of war and death on the lichl.
'I rode by her side, and looked up at her
occasionally, and thought she was looking
splendidly. I had never seen her more so
Every attitude was grace, every look was
life and spirit.
'Torn clung close to her. One would have
thought he was watching the very opportu
nity I was after myself. NOW he rode a few
paces forward, and as I was catching my
breath to say 'Sarah,' he would rein up and
fall back to his place, and I would make
some flat remark that made the seem like a
fool to myself, if not to her.
'What is the matter with you, Jerry,' said
she, at length.
'Jerry's in love.' said Tom.
'I could have thrashed him on the spot.'
'ln love! Jerry in love!' and she turned
her large brown eyes toward me.
'ln ruin I thought to fathom them, and
arrive at some conclusion, whether or no the
subject interested her with special force.
'The eyes remained fixed, till I blundered
out the old saw, "rem Judges others by
himself,'
'Then the eyes turned to Tom, and he
pleaded guilty by his awl:lyard looks, and
half blushes, and averted eyo, and forced
laugh.
'By heaven! thought I. what would I no t
give for Tom's awkwardness now The
scoundrel is winning his way by it.'
'Jerry, is Tom in love?'
'The naive* of the question, the correct
ness of it, the very simplicity of the thing
was irresistible, and I could not repress a
smile that grew into a broad laugh.
'Tom joined in it. and we made the woods
ring with our merriment.'
'I say, Tom, isn't that your whip lying
back yonder in the road?'
'Confound it, yes; the cord has broken
from my wrist;' and he rode book for it.
'.Terry, whom does Tom l o ve?' sa id s h e
quickly, turning. to me.
'You,' said I, bluntly.
'Why, of course; but who is he in love
with, I mean?'
'lt was a curious way to get at it. Could
Ibe justified? It was not asking what I had
intended, but it was getting at it in another
way, and just as well. perhaps. It was, at
all events, asking Tom's question for him,
and it saved tun the embarrassment of put
ting it as my omen. I determined this in
stant.
'Sarah, could you love TOm well enougli
to marry him?'
'I! Jerry; what do you mean?'
•Suppose Tom wants you to be his wife,
will you marry him?'
'I don't know—can't tell -'never thou,ght
of such a thing. You don't think he ha. 4
any such idca, do you.'
'That was my answer. It was enough a.
far as it went, but I was nn better off than
before. Sho did not love Tom, or she would
never have answered thus. But did she
love me? Would not she receive the idea in
just the same way!'
'I looked back. Tom was on the ground
—had picked up the whip, and had one
foot in the stirrup ready to mount again.—
I gulped down my heart that was up in my
throat, and spoke out:
'Sarah, will you marry me?'
'Philip, she turned her eyes again towards
me—those large brown eyes, those holy eyes
—and blessed me with their unutterably
glorious gaze. To my dying hour I shall
not forget that gaze; to all eternity it will
remain in my soul. She looked at me one
look; and whether it was pity, sorrow, sur
prise or lore, I cannot tell you, that filled
them and overflowed towards me from out of
their immeasureable depths; but, Philip, it
was the last light of those eyes I ever saw—
the last, the last.
'ls there anything left in that bowl?—
Thank you. .Just a glassful. You will not
take any? Then, by your leave, I will finish
it. 3I v story is neArly ended. and I will
not keep you up much longer.
'We had not noticed, so alr:erbed had we
been in our pleasant talk, that a irlark olowl
had risen in the west and obscured the sun,
and covered the sky; and even the sultry air
had not called our attention to the
thunder storm.
'..ls she lo:•ked at me, even as she fixed
her eyes on mine, a blinding and fierce.
fell on the top of a pine tree by the rotobdde
not fifty yards from us, and the erm-h of the
thunder shook the foundations of' the
'For a in(truent all was dazzling, barging.
blazing light; then sight was gone and a
momentary darkness settled on our eyes.—
The horses crouched to the ground in terror,
and Sarah bowed her head ac if in the pres
ence of God.
'All this was the work of an instant, and
the next Tout',. horse , prang by us on a fu
rious gallop, dragging Tom by the stirrup.
Ile had been in the act of mounting when
the flash came, and his horse swerved and
jumped so that his foot caught, and he was
dragged with his head on the ground.
'There was a point in the road about fifty
yards where it dii.ided in two. The one
was the carriage track, which wound down
the mountain by easy descents; the other
was a footpath, which was a short, precipi
tous cut to a point on the carriage road
nearly a quarter of a mile below.
'Calling to Sarah to keep back and wait,
I drove the spurs into my horse and went
down the steep path. ',Joking back, I saw
her fl 'flowing, her horse making tremendous
speed. She kept the carriage road, follow
ing on after Ton, and I pressed on, thinking
to intercept his horse below.
'My pace was terrible. I could hear them
thundering down the track above. 1 looked
up and caught sight of them through the
trees. I looked down and saw a gully before
me full eighteen feet wide, and as many deep.
'A great horse was that black horse, Cal
sar, and be took the gully at a flying leap
that landed us far over it, and a moment
later I was at a point where the roads again
met, but only in time to see the other two
horses go by at a furious pare, Sarah's
able:lst of the gray, and she rraching her
band out bravely, trying to grasp the flying
rein, as her horse went leap fur idap with
him.
'To ride close behind them was worse then
useless in such a ease. It would serve to
increase their speed; so I fell ha:lc a dozen
rods and followed, watching the end.
•At the foot of the, mountain the Thor ran
broad and deep, spanned by the brid4e at
the narrowest point. To reach the bridge
the road took a short turn up strQara, di: eetly
on the bank.
`Oa swept the gray and black horsoF, side
by side, (lowa the hill , ide, nut fifty leap,
along the level ground, and then came the
ME
'She was on the offside. At the sharp
tarn she pressed ahead a half length, and
reined her horse across the grey's shoulder,
if possible, to turn hint up toward the
bridge.
'lt was all over in an instant. The grey
was the heavier horse. Ile pressed her
close; the black horse yielded—gave way
toward the fence, stumbled, and the fence a
light rail, broke with a crash, and they went
over, all together, into the deep, Line{
OEM
Still, the sound ofthat crash and plungery
in my ears. Still I eon see them go head
long down the bank together, into deep.
black water.
'1 never knew e7aetly cl hat I did then.—
When I was conscious, I found inpellswim
ming, around in a circle, diving occasionally
to find them, but in vain. The grey horse
swain ashore and stood on the bank by my
black, with distending nostrils and tremb
ling limbs, slinking from head to foot with
terror. The other black horse was floating
down the surface of the stream, drowned.—
Ilis mistress was no where to be seen, and
Tom was gone also.
'I found her nt
'Restore her? No! A glance at her
face showed how vain all such hope wn•.—
Never was human face so angelic. She
was already one of the saintly—one of the
immortals—and the beauty and glory of her
new life had left some faint likeness of itself
on her dead form and face.
'Philip, I said I had never grown a day
older since that time. You know not why.
I have never ceased to think of her as on
that day. I have never lost the Meqqing of
those eyes as they looked on me in the forest
on the mountain road. I have never left
her, never grown away from her. If, in the
resurrection, we are to resume the bodies
$1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE
most exactly fitted to represent our whole
lives; if, as I have sometimes thought, we
shall rise iu the forms we wore when some
great event stamped our souls forever, then
I am certain that I shall awake in form and
feature as I was that day, and no ree,rd
will remain of an hour of my life after her
burial.
'We buried her in the old vault close by
the Lowe, among the solemn oaks. Beauti
ful, angel-like, to the very last.
'My voice is broken. I can say no mire,
Philip. You have the story. That is the
whole of it. God hie=s you, Phil, my boy.
You have listened--patiently--to--my--
talk.
'Good-night, boy, Go to 1,01. slay
here in the old chair I dun's--e::-
actly—feel—like—seeping•—vet.'
I left him sitting there; his head howecl
on his breast, his eye. closed, his breathing
.port, and heavy, as with supressed grief.
Mr own eyes where misty.
In the hall I found John, .:- , ltzirg bolt up
right in a large chair.
-Julie, I thought tho Major rent
you to 1,21 i long ago?'
'Ye- sir; the major alwasq sends me to
bel at the third bowl, Sir; and I always
.10e,'nt go. Ile has been telling yon the
of l qtory, now hasn't he, Mr. Philip?'
'What old stork-, John?'
'Why about Miss Lewis, and Micter
and the General."
Jim laid his long blard: finger knowingly
up Ow si.ltl or his nose, and hulsel at me.
'Why John—you don't mean ti
'.\ll punch, Fir.'
'What, Sarah, and the black liurse,and—'
'All punch, Sir.'
'John, my man, go in and take care of
ll' is either asleep or drunk. Cu
rious that! Why didn't I think that a man
was hardly t be believed after the second
Loud, ant perfectly incredible. on the third.
By e! he is a trump at a story.
It would he difficult to deccribe all that I
dreamed:omill that night.
The Silversmith of Acre
It had been a sultry day—one of those
breathlc , s summer noons so frequent at St.
Jean d'Acre during the latter part of July
and beginning of August. The sea lay stag
nant as an Mikan lake, and even the tallest
branches of the tree: gave no indication of
the slightest zephyr. Silence reigned over
the whole town, save where the groans of
the fever stricken found dismal echoes in
death's desolated rooms.
Djezzar, the Botcher, surmamed also the
Terrible, ruled at that time over the pasha
lie of Acre: and though, even at this very
day, his name is a perfect nightmare to the
people of that part, in some instances he
displaysd much acuteness and even-handed
ness in di,pensing justice among the Christ
ian rajahs under his jurisdiction.
On the day in question the pa,lta had felt
romarkahly dull and languid; wli:zt with:he
heat, the pier:thence of the disease, and the
coL-equent paucity of defaulters, there was
little or nothing stirring to esereise or stint
nlate his active disposition. Two men had
been impaled in the morning for felony—a
reviving spectacle, which had highly amused
111,4 eseelleney so long as the agonies of the
poor wretches ceolared. Half-a dozen Jews
had even ea,•itel hint to laughter by their
g,retesque exertions, when, as tied back to
back, they were overcome by the effects of
emetics p:eviou•ly administered. A. baker
or tan had been nailed by the cars to the
po-ts of the audience hall for some
•hort-comings in weights. And one houri
in the harem, who was a favorite, and con
sequently much noticed, having refused
to dance at the pasha's bidding, under the
plea of a burning fever with delirium, was
mildly incited thereto by being seated upon
the burning floor of the 'llammatn.' which,
by the way, produced a very different effect
front what Djezzar anticipated, by throwing
the girl into a violent perspiration and forth
with dispelling the fever.
These :annmed up the entaloeme of that
day's diversion for the pasha, aid he was
seated in a discontented and frowning mood,
staring out up in the hot, blood-red sun as
it dipped in the cool boom of the western
horizon.
About the same hour. in another quarter
of the town. wearied with a hot day's honest
labor and toil , Hal ,colt, the silvenntith,
ofr the shop-board and into his tel slii—
pers, with the intention of locking up and
finishing work for the day. To this intent
he emptied his cash-box of the day's profit.
adjusted his turban and mon•taclte, and
with a light heart and a kceu appetite
walked briskly towards his house in the the
Christian quarter of the town, thinking the
while of his handsome young wife and the
capital supper she had doubtless prepared
for him. Now Ilabeeh was a well-known
and highly respected tradesman, a cunning
workman in his art, and on this account
greatly esteemed even by the fa:Lulea! Turks
of Acre.
Full of happine=q, the silver , rnith reached
his door, and knurl:el 1011.11 y, and vas in
stantly
admitted by the Mack slave girl.
'll'here is your mistress?' a.lied the dig- •
appointed hushand, who was generally ad- ;
;flitted and welcomed by the hands and face
he loved best on earth.
'Mistress!' added the grinning black, 'airr
I thought she had gone up to the shop, she
left here soon after dinner.'
Here Nvas astounding information for Ha
beet,: Be could scarcely believe his senses
[WHOLE NUMBER, 1,429.
Search, however, having proved vain, he
endeavored to console himself with the idea
that his wife, being young and zhoughtless,
had g"ne off to the bath to meet some lady
friend, and had been prevented from return
ing m sonn as she expected.
Somehow or other his appetite was gone,
the meal appeared tasteless, and every mor
sel he F.lallowed seemed to stick in his
throat. Resolved to relinquish the attempt,
he proceeded at once to the public baths in
in search of the truant; arrived here, great
was his consterngtion on being informed by
the man that guarded the entrance that his
wife had not been there during the day.
Greatly dispirited, Habeeb returned to
wards his now disconsolate home, calling in
at every ft iend's house to make inquiries af
ter his wife. Even the nearest neighbors
had seen or heard nothing of her during the
' afternoon. But one old woman suggested
that the genii had spirited her away.—
• Scorning to give credence to such a report,
the unhappy husband came to the desperate
conclusion of repairing at once to the terri
• ble pasha, and of there reporting the calam
.
it--; that had befallen him.
Arrived at the palace, Habeeb, t embling
all over with awe. was ushered into the ty
rant's presence just at the very moment
when, as we hare already seen, Djestar was
gloomily reflecting upon some alternative to
banish ennui. ITe hailed the silversmith's
arrival with manifest glee and evident satis
foion. In a few . wile Hal,cob narrated
1114 errand, which was a satisfactory one for
the paclia, for it afl'orded him ample scope
for the display of his talents and his power.
'D.) you know,' asked Djezzar, in a terri
ble voice, 'any man for whom your wife has
at any time evinced a partiality? or have
you had any recent mice of disputation
with Ler?'
Habeeb replied in the negative, assuring
the pasha that even up to that very morning
nothing had ever occurred to interrupt the
harmony of their lives.
The pasha then inquired whether tho wo
man had taken her clothes or other effects
with her. To this the silversmith replied
that everything, saving what she stood in,
had been left behind.
'Good:' said Diezzer; 'go you home direct
ly and fetch thither with you your wife's
"maringe trunks " We shall see if we can•
not trace the truant by that means.'
The silversmith went home and returned
with the trunk as directed, when the pasha
ordered hint to open it, in his presence and
take out every article it contained, enumer
ating one by one how such and such a thing
came into his wife's possession.
Habeeb obeyed, and, in doing so, dis
played to view a goodly tts , ortment of lady's
apparel, all of which he was able to trace as
the gift either of himself or some near re
lation. The pasha's brow lowered as ho
fancied himself frustrated in his scheme,
when, from the very bottom of the trunk,
the be•,vildered husband produced a most
costly and highly embroidered silk tunic, for
which he was wholly unable to account.
'That will do,' said Djezzer, brightening
up again; 'you can go home now, and by the
beard of the Prophet! your wife shall be
restored to you before the day has elapsed.'
With many expressions of gratitude and
full of wonder and sagacity of the pasha,
Ilaheeb retired to his home, there to puzzle
his brain throughout the night as to what
could have beaome of his wife, and how the
dress wail possibly effect Ler recovery.
Aroanwhile, the pasha had sent a message
to the Mri 13ashi, 'head tailor' of Acre,
5IIMMO:i111; him, with every tailor in the
place, under dreadful penalty, into his imme
diate prc,ence. It is needless to say that the
command wasinstantaneously obeyed by
the trembling herd of snips, who wondered
what new experiments they were to form
the subjects of. Arrived in the terrible
presence of njezzer, the silk tunic was laid
out for their inspection, and, with a horrible
menace, they were one and all invited to
inspect the same, and the maker to acknowl
edge who he had made it for, and who had
paid him fur tile making of it. After a
brief survey, one intelligent young man
boldly stepped forward and declared that
the dress had been made by him for the
pasha's treasurer, who had duly paid him
for same.
Eyeing him sternly for n while, Djezzer
replied: 'Young man, I rend Fincerity in
your eyeF, nnid believe what you sac. You
may there:ore return I your reTeclice
homes at 011.:e.'
2.t,t.)7111-ilLa and happy conclave thus
dismit.scd, Djezzer sent an order to the
little-suspc , 2tiag trensut er for the immediate
release of the Christian's wife, who was
concealed in his harem. The treasurer
vainly denied the charge, and was at last
constrained to deliver up the hapless Cahoot',
who was conducted into the pasha's pres
ence to Lind her ill-used husband already
awaiting her in the andicnec-hall.
.t7iirißtiatt: said the pa-ha. 'take back
your wi fe. I swore I would I ece% er her.
nn , l I have kept my oath:
But llabeeb, whilst acknowledging his
great gratitude, required of the pasha that
. justice should take place.
• 'lf,' said the silversmith, 'my wife was
forcibly carried away, I shall only bo too
happy to receive her ngnin into my house
and my affectiont but if she went off of her
own free will, then let the law mks its
' cour.e.7
The evidence went against the woman,
who was nez.tordingly sewn up into a sack
and thrown into the sea; and as for the