A.N. , --- 3 1 - - r ' E 1...., 1, 1 -I,‘ 4 :: ,S, .1 ',.. i-.. 7. - t ',... 1) :: IL_ MI • . . - ....... ..., tt: , _4„a Fi ~.. 4 • ;;; 1 . ••••_ r r i.., ..7 ----,)--:--` SAtUEL WEIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXVIII, NUMBER 48.1 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING Qffice in Northern Central Railroad Cern tr-mny's Building,2torik-wesicorner Front and Vatnut .virects. Terms of Subscription. 'One Copy per annum,if paid in advance, SI 50 if not paid within three months from commencement of the year, 200 C7z , m3..tls L. Copp. No subscription received for n less time than six 'Months; and no paper will be discontinued until all trrearages tire paid, unless at the option of the pub % isher ErMoney may be remitted by mail at the publish "cr'e risk. Rates of Advertising, I square (0 lines] one week, three weeks, s s each 4uhsequenlinsertion, 10 •1 " [l2 lines] one week, 50 Si. three weeks, I 00 sr each subsequent insertion, 25 'Larger advertisements in proportion. A liberal discount will be made to quarterly, half. yearly or yearlyadverusers,who are striellyeaufined to their business. DR. S. ARMOR, HODICEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN, COLUMBIA, PA. Oet•tcu AND Pmtomme—Second Street, one door from Walnut. March 13, MS. THOMAS WELSH, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, Columbia,' Pa. OFFICE:, in Whipper's New Building, below Black's Hotel, Front street. DV - Prompt attention given to all business entrusted tobis care. November '2B, 1857. DIL G. W. MIFFLIN, I")ENTIST, Locust street, a few doors above f the Odd Fellow.' Hull, Columbia, Pa. Columbia. May 3. IS 50. H. M. NORTH, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW. Columbia,Pa. Collection', r.romptly made, ilt Lancaster and York Colambi a. 11Tay 4,1550. J. W. FISHER, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, oliamillarizt,, Pak. Columbia, Septeenber 6,16364 i GEORGE J. SMITH, WHOLES:ILE and Retail Bread and Cake Baker.—Contently on hand a variety of Cake, too lICRUCCOUS to mention; Crackers; Soda, Wine. Scroll, and Sugar Biscuit; Confectionery, of every de•eription, LOCUST STIIIiET, Feb. 2:56. Between the Bank and Franklin Ilouce. Geneal Pain Killer. Twurs Pontygenie Liniment, A never•foiling remedy for Gout, ftheutuatetni, Toothache, Neu rolgia, Sprains, Frown Feet. &e. For •ale only ut McCORKLE & DR7.I.F.TT'S Family Medicine Store, Odd Fellow. Ilan. April Cold Cream of Glycerine, Fon the Cure and Prevention of Chap prd !lands. For sale by pr. E . it HERR. Our. 7,1457. Golden Mortar Drag titore CAILPETINGS, OIL CLOTHS, AND LOOKING GLASSES ali.vay, no 1111nd. nu low paces, at THE PEOPLE'S STORE, March 13, ISSI. Attieming the Batik. COSTAR'S Bed Bug Exterminator! Never Ignown to fall. For sale, at 111cCORIC & DELLETT'S Family MeMeole Store, 0,141 Fellow's Hall. April 24.184. P. COSTAR'S Rat Exterminator. Au infalli ble deftroyer of Rata, Mice and Cockroaches. War vale at McCO RR LE Ar. DEL, IX/lag Fain ily Medicine Store, Odd Fellow'b April 24, 430. WISTAR'S BALSAM OF 'WILD CHERRY, foe Couglo , , , for gale at eCOR K & DEI.LETT'S Family Medicine a tore, Odd Fellows' Hull. 'Columbia, Oct. 81.1:57. OOLLEY'S All Healing and Strengthen ! in. , Salve, formal.. nt MeCORKLE& Family Medicine rieore, UJd Feliwiva' Colnmhire. 0nt.:11.1837. !`BORN Starch, Farina, Rice Flour, Tapioca, iJ Sago, Oat Iklenl, Arrow Root, ke..nt the FAMILY JJEDICINE STORE, Sept 110,*57. JEST revived, three dozen Dr. Branon's Vegetable Bitter 4, a certain cure (or Dyepep.ia; elec, a. (reels lot of Sap Sago and Pine Apple Cboese, Panne and Corn Starch, at D. 11F.R.13.'S Sept 5, 1133. Grocery and Liquor Store. SOLUTION OF CITRATE OF MAGNESIIIier Par psi ye Mineral Vrater.—Thi-pleasant medicine which is highly recommended 04 a sult.tdote for Epsom Salts, Sett:Una Powders, onn be obtained fresh every day at Da. E. at. /MIMIC'S Drug Store, Front st. 1" MPS, turrh, tun 3nst rettival at Herr's Drug store, a new and beautiful lot of Lorna% of all descriptions. 11dar2,1837. ASITERNR article of burning Fluid just received and for Fait by IicSUYOANI& SON. A LIME iot of 'City cured Dried Beef, just reeeived at it. sin DAN & soN's. Columbia, December 20, MSC. HOOFIANDI German Bitters. For sale at luClO R KLIi & Family Medicine Store, Odd FeHOWbn Hail. July Z. IIOtINTRY Produce constantly on band an d for sole by it SUYDAM & SON. OMINY, Cranberries, Raisins, Figs, Alm ends, Walnuts, Cream Nutv. ke.,just received 11. t.UVDAM SC AON'S. Columbia, Dee. 20, I 556 ASUPERIOR lot of Black and Green Teas, Coffee and Chocolateourit received nt tr. arItDAII & oo:v's Dec. 20.1.9.56. Corner of Front and Union ft.. 71 UST RECEIVED, a beautiful assortment of V , Glass Ink Stands, at the Headquarters and News Depot. Columbia, April 19,1857. EITRA Family and Superfine Ear of the best brand, for sole by D. SUYDAM & SON. JUST received 1000 lbs. extra double bolted Borkwbeat bleRI, at Dee.ll9, Isl 4. 11. SUVDA 11l & SON'S. WHEEL'S Instantaneous Yeast or Baking Powder. for sale by H. SOYHAH & SON. GBRIIIINE Imported 'Harlem 011, for sale at Dr. B. B. HERR'O. Golden Alortur Dreg Store, Front otrect,Columboo, Pa. [Feb. 6, 18:06. TABLE AND FLOOR OIL CLOTHO, all widths, and Carpeting., for 2210 chem .. by 0(1.10,1857. 1. O. BRUNER & CO. 'FIATS ANDCAFS. Imitable for the aeason, and at KI low price•, at the Corner of Third and Union etc Oct. 10, 1957. LOOKING GLASSES. all aim... by I. 0. BRUNET/ & CO.. 0et.10,18.57. Corner of Third and Union ats CHEAP White. Red and Yellow Wool Flannels sin Wool Yarn. of all colors and goo Miran. October 10, 1.8d7. BRUNER'S. SALT by the sack or bushel, and Mackerel by the barrel or retail, at 1.0. BRUNER & cos. Oetober 10,1937. 111E1ME SEGARS AND TOBACCO, of different .& brands.wholesale and retail. by October 10,1937. 1.0. BRUNER & CO. TA BLE and flock Salt, by Om sack or bushel, for sale :osr.by Oet. 10, m - 7. I. O. BRUNER CO. A LA.RGEas.oroment of Ropes. all size• sad lengths, IS, on hand and for sale at THO S . Tarelt 12, 1t:57. No. 1. Hugh street. Beatrice. Host was I worthy so divine a loss, Deepening my midnights,kindling all my morns? Why waste such precious wood to make my cross, Such far-sought roses for my crown of thorns? And when she came. how earned I such a gift? Why spend on me, a poor earth delving mole, The fireside sweetnesses, the heavenward lift, The hourly mercy of a woman's soul? Ali. did we know to give her all her right, What wonders even in our poor clay were done! It is not woman that leaves us to our night, It is our earth that grovels from her sun. QM Our nobler cultured fields and gracious domes We whirl too oft from her who still shines on To light in vain our cures and clefts, the homes Of night-bird instincts pained till she be gone, Still must this body,starve our souls with shade; But when Death makes 114 what we were before, Then shall her sunshine all our depths invade, And not a shadow stain heaven's crystal floor, [Atlantic Monthly It was one quiet morning, at the com mencement of what is familiarly called the "long vacation," when Sydenham—lovingly termed :the ;,"Doctor"—and your humble servant were breakfasting with our common friend, Duval, a great legal luminary, at his chambers in Pump Court, Temple. The long vacation, as most civilians are aware, is that ungenial season when briefs are no longer sown broadcast, but are merely drib bled in as a sheriff's-court or sessions case may render necessary; when outstanding fees are carefully gathered by provident clerks, whose shadows become daily more and more attenuated as they noiselessly glide about the inns of court, dreaming of terms, and sighing for the fatness of Hilary and Easter. The locus in quo—to speak professionally —of our matutinal repast was not so much a matter of choice as of compulsion. Ac cording to the original draft of our cam paign, we should have been seated, not in Pump Court, but on the cold and craggy peaks of the Grand Mulcts. Various unto ward circumstances had, however, conspired to baffle our aspirations. imprimis. Duval had been plucked at his - examination, and had sentenced himself i n consequence to six months' imprisonment and hard labor.— Sydenhatn, who was grinding at the mill of medical science, with his intellectual eye upon the "college," was suffering like Du val, but from a wound of a more material character. In performing his celebrated necromantic feat of breaking a poker over his arm, he disqualified himself for scaling acclivities by severely bruising his shin.— My own little domestic calamity was more touching and not quite so ridiculous. Hav ing, after an unusually prolonged raise a deux temps with a most ethereal partner, been induced to take a moonlit ramble into the conservatory, we had just begun to en joy the unspeakable charms of seclusion, when I was suddenly seized with the most violent fit of sneezing, which speedily drew public attention to our retreat, and nipped our delightful tote-a-tete ere it had scarcely unfolded its blossoms. Between cold and mortification, I had no desire for continental travel, but remained gloomily in town, toil ing hourly on a sonnet on "Influenza," which I proposed sending to Maria as a memento of that fatal night, and which I had not yet finished satisfactorily, though my sufferings for three weeks had been very acute, Odd Fellow••' Hall "What has become of the little Ridley?" inquired the Doctor, as he curiously dissect ed a box of sardines. "Gone to Jersey, I believe," replied Du val, on a love mission—re Laura Blanch flower; a case on which we have already advised." "Ile is a special original if ever there was one," said Dr. Sydenham. "The age of martyrs is gone by, or little Ben, with his great soul, would long since have perished at the stake. A small piece—well done— thank you." "Does he walk in his sleep now?" asked Duval. "Ile was a perfect 'Amino,' when we were at school together. One night. I remember, he upset the wash-stand; and the water percolating through the floor, acted as an extemporaneous shower-bath for the refreshment of Monsieur .Mercredi, our irritable old French master, who slept im mediately beneath." "You should have seen him at Exeter Hall, listening to Mendelssohn's Athalie," ob- served the Doctor. "There be sat, speech less, with his eyes raised to the ceiling: apparently lost in solemn rapture. He told me afterwards that lie had a presentiment he should marry a widow—Cayenne, please." "I can tell you a better story than that," said Duval, laughing. "When Ridley supped with our friend P.—, one night last summer, he was taken veryill, and P— made him up a .bed in the chamber which Oliver Goldsmith once occupied, and where it is stated he wrote one of his best -works. Well, Ridley, inspired, I suppose, by the genius loci, had a dream. _r, terrible dream —so he described it! He fancied he was in China, in Pekin, where all is sunshine, pa godas, babies' feet, and satin slippers.— Suddenly a procession came in sight--a most magnificent widow, under a flaming parasol, and attended by her slaves. She glanced at Ridley, and killed him with one Egrtry. garrtitrito. Iliclley's Love Affair. "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 5, 1858. shot. Iler beauty was magnetic; she drew him along; he strove to turn (remembering Laura,) but he felt that where she went he must follow. Poor little Ridley, his heart smiting him for his inconsistency; still he went on, till the widow, killing him more and more by her smiles, conducted the mar tyr to a sort of tea-gardens, where, in a Chinese summer-house, she sat down, and presenting Ridley with a cup the size of an acorn, sweetly requested him to fill it from a tea-urn in the centre of the garden. Two hundred and forty-seven cups of strong Bo hem did that luxurious widow consume, and as many times did little Ridley run back wards and forwards, till, overcome with fascination and fatigue, he at length sank exhausted at her feet. It was then that, to his horror and bewilderment, ho discovered that the widow had a glass eye; and he woke up, shivering all over as if he had got an ague. From that time little Ridley has had a dismal presentiment that he shall marry a most inexorable widow." When we had done laughing at Ridley's superstitious terrors, Sydenham observed that ho thought their eccentric but estima ble little friend was engnged to that hand some girl whom ho met at Matlock." "Well, he corresponds with her," said Duval, "and I suspect has now gone on a visit there; but he has never proposed ex actly, because he fancies in his extreme conscientiousness, that he is not quite rich enough. If anything should happen to his old Welsh aunt, then, roll drums merrily, march away." The above conversation took place, as I have mentioned, over the breakfast-table at Duval's chambers, where those universally interesting subjects—matrimony and muf fins—were frequently discussed with liberal ity and philosophic:eandor. Little Ridley's monomania was utterly inexplicable. A phantom widow confronted and appalled him wherever he 'went. Yet he was consti tutionally brave, and devotedly attached to Laura, before incidentally referred to, and who, I Lave been informed and believe, en tertained for her ardent but respectful adorer that pure esteem which is the nicely macadamized thoroughfare leading direct to the dwelling-place of Love. Ridley's intro duction to his enchantress took place under remarkable circumstances. Laura, a fine, flashing, and high-spirited girl, was driving a pair of young horses in a phaeton, when they took fright, and Laura, though a good whip, with a strong nerve, lost all command over them. Little Ridley, who was out shooting—it was the first of September— saw the danger, and throwing away his gun, he sprang into the road, jumped up behind the vehicle as agile as a squirrel, seized the reins, and brought the refractory steeds un der subjection with astonishing facility and success. now Laura complimented him for this chivalrous act, little Ridley's mod esty would never permit him to disclose.— But Benjamin had evidently made an impression, and had received one also, which time, pleasure, nor study could efface.— Laura, unfortunately, however, fur little Ben's disinterested attachment, was an heiress with twenty thousand pounds, and Ridley was only a special pleader by cour tesy, with a revisionary interest in an equivocal silver-lead mine in the euphonious district of Cwm-y-dyllyud, expectant on the decease of an old Welsh aunt, who was just entering her eighty-fifth year, and of whose family no member had ever died under the ago of ninety-nine. 'We had just finished the sardines, and were smoking a pensive cigar, when the small but tenacious brass knocker of Duval's outer chamber door was violently set in mo tion by some unknown visitor. Finding that hispeat iaquais neglected to attend the summons, Duval rang his hand-bell and shouted with angry impatience the kingly name of Rufus, meantime the summons was repeated and made peremptory. "Confound that boy!" cried Duval, start ing up, "I shouldn't wonder if he's in a comatose state again." So saying, Duval stepped into a narrow apartment like the Steward's cabin of a Margate steamer, and which was neatly furnished with a plate-rack and a wine cooler. "Now who has been and mesmerized this unhappy minor?" demanded Duval, addres sing the doctor, who was smiling through his spectacles. "You have, Sydenham?" "'Pon my life, I quite forgot it," replied the student of Guy's. "Why be must have been in this state for nearly twenty minutes," replied the convey ancer. "For goodness sake demesmarize him, and let him go and open the door." During these remarks, the unconscious subject of them—a wan and vacant-looking youth, with furzy red hair—sat on the wa ter-cooler, his right arm outstretched, and finger pointed, like young Norval denoun cing the trembling coward who forsook his master. Sydenhant, having adopted the usual means practiced by oleetro-biologists for restoring suspended animation, Rufus, after sundry pungent shivers, woke up and waited for orders. "There's somebody knocking." said Da raL "See who it is. If it's income-tax, tell him to call again to-morrow." "Perhaps it's little Ridley," observed the doctor, as the knocking continued with re newed vigor. "It sound's very much like Pope's Iliad, all iambics—five in aline--ra tat, ra-tat, ra-tat, ra-tat-ratat." The doctor was right. It was that noble though small individual. He had just re turned from his sea-side trip, and looked remarkably well. A shepherd's plaid was skillfully wrapped round his plump little body, a Glengarry bonnet surmounted his bald head, and large sandy-colored imperial decorated his benevolent chin. We were all delighted to see our learned little brother, more especially as his pres ence was so premature. Duval's first question was respecting Laura; had he seen her? was she as charming, bright, and sprrkling as ever? were all the ante•nuptial arrangements completed? and was Ridley to become in a short time the happiest man alive? Alas, he hae not seen Laura; his arrange ments were completed, and he should never see her again. He told us this With a badly-acted air of indifference, splitting his glove all to pieces, and breathing heavily through his set teeth. So singular and abrupt a termination of Ridlcy's love-suit could not but pique our curiosity, and we entreated him—speaking his own language as a special pleader—to furnish us with further and better particu lars. At first he demurred; it was an un pleasant subject, and would only give us pain; but this being overruled, ho briefly stated his case, heaving one or two interlo cutory sighs, and rejoining, gratis, "You will call me a simpleton, but I can't help that." From the issue, it appeared that our little special pleader had been pleading to some purpose; having already delivered his dec laratior*o a young widow with twins not quite three years old. It appeared that Laura and her guardian, Colonel Gauntlett, were residing at St. Hol ier's; and just before the long vacation com menced, Ridley received a curiously crossed and puzzling letter, but beautiful neverthe less, from Laura, pressing him to spend the recess with them at their marine villa in the island of tranquil delights. A brief, with a fee of fifty guineas, could not have yielded Ridly more ecstatic deligbt than did this letter, which contained a sweet little seaside sketch, in water colors, painted by Laura, with a fine recline for shrimps. It was a misty evening on which Ridley arrived at Southampton, whither, in baste to reach his destination, ho traveled express. At _ her accustomed hour for starting, the Jersey boat, apyrehensive of • danger from the den sity of the fog, could not venture out to sea; and Ridley, who would have willingly em barked in a wherry, had one been then and there available, had no alternative but stop ping till the next day at a mercenary family hotel. Disgusted with the wax-lights, for which he knew he would be charged exor bitantly, Ridley retired early to his cham ber, and would fain have slept, but was pre vented by circumstances, and mice, over which be had no control. After flinging his boots without success at the wainscot— behind which they had laid out their race course—Ridley struck a light, and, much to the amazement of the enemy, who, sitting upright on their respective tails, regarded his nightcap with silent reverence, pro ceeded to entertain himself by reading a popular novel which he had wisely put un der his pillow in ease of distress, Unhappy man! the more he read the more he doubted the propriety of his own conduct, and long before he reached the nineteenth chapter, he discovered with shame and chagrin that he was an imposter. What claim had he upon Laura's regard? he bad stopped a pair of ponies, which any post-boy could have done, and thought himself munificently rewarded with half a sovereign. There was a wide gulf between gratitude and love. The first Laura might entertain; the latter impossi ble. She, an heiress and the pride of the country; he, a small pleader, with a rover- sionary interest in the equivocal silver-lead mine of Cwm-y-dyllyud, expectant on the decease of an old Welsh aunt. Was it not cruel of him to take advantage of his posi tion, and press a suit which, however repug nant to her feelings, poor Laura could not gracefully ignore? It may seem somewhat chimerical, but I have no reason to doubt what Ridley assured us was the fact, that his sudden conversion was brought about by reading the fiction above mentioned, which, written by a lady, (name unknown,) so strongly inculcated the duty of self-sacrifice, and presented such a beautiful picture of passion subdued by principle, that Ridley, who had in him a nice sense of moral harmony, was conscience stricken, and could scarcely believe that Laura's image, set in a guilty frame, had taken possession of his honorable breast. The result was, that after long and pain ful deliberation, poor little Ridley aban doned all idea of going to Jersey, and de termined to write Laura that he had sprained his ankle, feeling perhaps that a lame apol ogy was better than none. Ile could not reconcile himself to the thought of with drawing his declaration, and commencing another process of attachment. Ills present object was to gain time for pleading; if Laura would only wait a year or two his practice might increase, or something might tarn up so as to bridge over the gulf between her fortune and his own, and enable him to set down his cause with every prospect of obtaining a favorable verdict when it came on for hearing. Fearing, perhaps, that if he remained un til the Jersey boat started be might be tempted to forego hie meritorious resolution, he settled his bill at the hotel, and started off for the purpose of returning to town as early as possible. On entering the waiting room at the railway station, his attention was arrested by a very young and innocent looking widow, who was sitting amongst a heap of boxes, with two little round-faced, fair-haired boys, who were so like each other that no one could doubt that they were twins. Ridly, who, as an honest lawyer, regarded every unprotected woman as his client, and sympathized with her according ly, felt strongly moved at this interesting picture of bereavement and helplessness; and entering into conversation with the young widow, elicited from her by a subtle examination (auspicious presage of his .Nisi Prins fame!) the full particulars of her Bad and singular history. It seemed that, at the tender but unreflecting ago of fifteen, she eloped from a Swiss pension with an artist of great but unrecognized talent, and who, six months after their union, died of a lin gering decline. Owing to her imprudence, all her relations disowned her except one brother, a wild and careless fellow, who had gone to sea, being fit for nothing else, and had now settled down in a log hut in the State of Texas, and was prospering with his wife and olive-branches around him. - The regular remittances, for which she was in debted to the spontaneous kindness of this brother, coupled with her slender earnings from modeling wax-flowers, proved our lit tle widow's solo means of subsistence. By the urgent advice of this good brother, she was going out to Texas with her two little boys, and had just arrived at at Southamp ton, where she had arranged to meet Cap tain Weatherby, who had received from her brother the amount of her passage-money, and who had kindly promised to take her under his fatherly protection. Such was the little widow's story, to which our embryo Lord Chief-Justice lis tened with profound gravity and attention. She had scarcely done speaking, when two travelers entered the waiting•room, one a seafaring man in a pilot coat and fur gloves; the other apparently a courier, with a dis patch-box and valise. "What ship was that which struck on the Needles last night?" demanded the latter of his companion. "The Inca, bound for Halifax, and every soul loss," rejoined the courier; "captain and all, I knew him intimately; poor Weatherby!" During this brief conversation the little widow had risen. and, with an expression of breathless interest advancing to the speak ers, as soon as she heard the name of Cap tain Weatherby she uttered a faint shriek and fell senseless into Ridley's arms. 111-fated Benjamin! What was to be done? Here was a very young and innocent little widow, with two round-faced little blue eyed boys, and no one in the wide, wide world to cheer, comfort and protect them. Is it to be wondered at, even though the age of chivalry is past, that our little pleader was penetrated with compassion? He thought of Laura; and the more he thought of her, the more hopeless and unwarrantable ap peared his passion, and his advances. He hadla short but stubborn struggle with himself. It was sympathy contending against love; and in which the latter fell vanquished by the tears of his gentle adver sary. Not to detail the introductory stages, the final issue of this process was that Ridley made the little widow an offer of his hand, and, marvelous to relate, was accepted without a. moment's hesitation. As Ridley, with a solemn countenance that left no doubt of his sincerity, made this extraordinary statement, ho raised his hand kerchief to his eyes, and—else I am very much mistaken—wept. "Come, Ridley," cried the doctor, after a long and painful pause, "confess that you have been romancing—plumbing, in fact, the depth of our gullibility." - "It's not a feigned issue, eh, Ben?" said Duval, our great legal luminary, winking at his learned brother. Ridley shook his head and heaved an aud ible sigh. "And where is that tricky—l beg pardon," said the doctor, stammering, "that innocent little widow?" "In a cab at the top of Inner Temple Lane," replied the special plender. "And those two round-faced little boys?" "They aro all together," said Ridley, rising to depart. "You must excuse me, I shall see you again." "Ben!" cried the doctor, approaching him and shaking his hand with emphatic cordi ality, "you are an honor to our common humanity." Duval and I echoed the sentiment. We had often read of young and gentle women seeking & union with the maimed and the blind, but wo had. never before beard or dreamt of one of our own sex exhibiting a similar spirit of self-sacrifice. "Stop one minister cried Duval, who had just taken the morning paper from Rufus, who, as he handed it over the table, re mained transfixed, his arm stretched out in a cataleptic state. "Bother the boy; he's off again. Sydenham, look sharp and domes =arise him; for it's your doings I've no doubt." While the doctor was engaged in the pro cess of demesmerisation Duval glanced over the "shipping intelligence." "What was the name of the vessel that your little widow was going out in?—the Inca?" "That's het," said Ridley, adjusting hie $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; .$2,00 IP NOT IN ADVANCE plaid with an air of melancholy resignation to the will of fate. "Six hundred tons burden, A 1, copper bottomed, and so on; warranted twelve years; Captain Weatherby commander." "Your description," replied the pleader, "is, I believe, strictly correct." "Why, then, she is not lost!" exclaimed Duval; she hasn't left the London Docks yet; those gentlemen at Southampton must have been mistaken in their parcels." "You don't mean that?" cried Ridley, incredulously. "Read for yourself, my good fellow," said Duval; adding facetiously,"you must amend, or allow judgement to go by default." Ridley took the paper with trembling eagerness, ran his eyes over the parapraph pointed out to him, then throwing the jour nal up in the air, he whistled aloud and snapped his fingers in a paroxysm of wild but speechless joy; he then fell back in his chair, and we all thought he had fainted away. "Now, then, Ben," cried the doctor, slap ping him on the shoulder, "Up rouse ye, then, my merry, merry men, this is our opening day." "So it is," returned the little Scotchman, springing forward; and, as our hearts warmed, we ell joined hands and danced and sung the "Reel of Tullochgorum." How Ridley settled matters with the widow we could never accurately learn; but from his borrowing twenty pounds from Du val, ostensibly to pay his old nurse her half year's annuity, I suspect that he did not see the little woman on board without be stowing upon her some substantial token of his regard. Owing to the demise of his aunt at the premature age of ninety-seven, which put him into possession of his rever sionary interest in the Mines of Cwm-y -dyllyud, we lost sight of him for some time. Shortly, however, after his return with Laura from their wedding tour, Ridley re ceived a foreign post letter. It was from the dear little woman herself, informing him in sprightly language, of her safe arri val some months before, at Texas, and stating, without any nonsensical circumlocution, that she was married to the gallant Captain Weatherby, and was already blessed with two little pledges of affection, both of whom were girls, and almost fac-similies, on a smaller scale, of their little twin half brothers. Having carefully and conscientiously made up the above "record," I read it over, as in duty bound, to Ridley's wife. She smiled and said: "I fear that many will doubt the existence of such a hero as you have drawn, but I can certify," placing her hand on Ridley's miniature, "that it is no imaginary being. Experince is on our side; credulity on theirs. Some have great faith in man's entism; I have none." Marriageable Ladies BY EUGENE GUINOT Mademoiselle Arrnande N. is a charming young person, with a dowry of eighty thou sand. francs. This fortune allows her to aspire to the hand of a provincial lawyer, but Amanda has for an aunt and a god mother a very ambitious lady, who promises her a more brilliaht match. "My niece," said the good lady, "is made to marry a great lord—only he must be sought for. But I know where these good matches are to be found." "Where then?" "In Germany, at the baths, at those sum mer resorts which are the rendezvous of the beau monde of all countries. I, who am telling you about it, went to these waters twenty years ago—l was not so pretty as my niece, and yet I might have been a duchess, if unfortunately I had not been married." The good lady wished to realize her dream. She carried her nelee beyond the Rhine, to a watering place which is beloved by the fashionable world. Miss Armande had great success. Her aunt bad spared no expense to make her shine, and the lady was dressed like the god-daughter of a fairy. The most dazzling toilets added to her graces their elegance and their splendor. She changed her dresses twice a day. She excelled all the other ladies at the balls and drives. She was quoted as the pearl of Sae ladies, she was admired, surrounded, and proclaimed the queen of the season. But the triumphs, flattering as they were, did not attain the serious end which had been proposed. Armande found partners and admirers in crowds, but no husband.— Her remarkable beauty and her exquisite grace had however, made more than one conquest, and among others had touched the heart of a young Parisian, .M. Rene do 0.; but the young man, justly alarmed at the luxury and the great style of Armande, had informed himself of her dowry. They had told him it was eighty thousand francs. The snm seemed to him disproportionate to the splendor of the young lady, and he said to himself with a sigh: "it is too little. My forty thousand pounds capital will not be enough to satisfy the extravagant tastes and pay for the toi lets of such a lavish lady." M. Rene therefore resigned himself to conceal his sentiments, and sadly stood aside. After six weeks of hollow glory. Armand. left the waters with her aunt, who bad ex hausted all her savings in a 'rain attempt. At the beginning of the month of Sep tember, M. Rene found himself in the oral- [WHOLE NUMBER, 1,453. rons of L—, at the house of one of his friends. Going one morning to make a visit in the neighborhood, he perceived that he had missed his way. Some information was indispensable, and to ask it, he directed his steps towards a house of modest appearance which he had perceived at a short distance from the spot where he had just stopped in his false path. He crossed a well cultivated kitchen gar den, and approaching the house he heard a fresh and silvery voice utter these words: "Wait a minute—l am corning." This voice made him tremble; he thought ho recognized that of Mademoiselle Ar mando, with whom, however, he had con versed but little. Ho approached softly and saw a young lady occupied with a very prosaic care. She was feeding her chickens. Her back was turned toward M. Reno. He only saw her form, which was charming in her calico dress. Her bead disappeared under a large hat of coarse straw. The hand which threw out the grain was small and delicate, but browned by the sun. Everything he saw reminded him of Armande, But how could he believe that it was she. The pearl of fine ladies in a calico dress and peasant's hat! The queen of the watering-places feeding the hens! When she had given out all the corn which was in her aporn, she turned and passed near M. Rene without seeing him; but he had plainly seen her, and it was the charming face of mademoiselle, browned a little, like her hands. Re remained a moment speechless. Ire then went into the house and found Made moiselle Armande employed in settling the household accounts with the cook. His surprise deprived him of speech, and ho had some trouble in explaining the mo tive of his sudden apparition. "Joanna will show you your read directly. unless you will rest yourself a little while," said Armande, pointing to the adjoining room, the door of which was open. It was a little parlor, in which M. Rene found the father and mother of the young lady, and the ambitious god-mother who carried her to the waters. He asked the aunt and niece if they did not recollect him. The aunt answered that she did not. "It seems to me as if I had seen you, but I cannot tell where nor when," replied the young lady. M. Rene felt a little saddened`that Made moiselle Armande had preserved only a vague and confused remembrance of him. He reminded these ladies that he bad met them at the baths. The young lady smiled as she glanced at her country toilet. Her aunt sighed as she thought of the failure of her hopes. Before taking his leave, 111. Rene improved hie position as a neighbor to obtain permis sion to come again. Ile came the next day and found the queen of the waters making preserves. Every day he surprised her thus engaged in household cares, always simple, natural, modest, happy. The metamorphosis was complete, or rather the queen for a day turned for a moment from her true vocation, had returned with joy to her own habits and tastes. "You do not, then, regard the pleasures of last summer?" asked N. Rene. "I, not at all! I leave the regrets to my good aunt. It was to please her that I went with her to the waters.!' "Do you return there next summer?" "No, indeed, once is enough, and I was quite weary of them." "What do you say, was not the place fall of enchantment to you? Were there not new fetes when you displayed yourself bril liant in charms and ornaments, surrounded by homage and admiration." "I may appear very absurd to you, but these fetes and this great world fatigued me. I was ill at ease in the part of fine lady which I was made to piny. I felt ridiculous in those dresses of which you speak, and in those six weeks of forced elegance I became disgusted with the toilet for the rest of my life." "Meantime, you would not be sorry to End again next winter the pleasures cf Paris?" "We do not go to Paris this year; Paris is too dear." "What, do you resign yourself to the ex istence one leads in a little provincial city?" "I have already passed one winter in this little city, and I enjoyed myself very much here. I hope we shall stay in the country. A country girl and a peasant, that is what I am, and I (MO it frankly." "Bat if a husband should take you to Paris?" "I should obey." '•And if this husband were—me?" Armando blushed and cast down her eyes. After a moment's silence, the mar riageable young lady made timidly some objections. "Perhaps," said she, "you think me richer than I am." "I know," replied M. Rene, "that you have a very fine dowry." "But no, I have only eighty thousand francs." "You have much more than that "how?" "Let ns reckon. You would be content with a thousand crowns a year fur your toilet?" "Well, then, that la too much." "Thore is nine thousand francs saved, for there is no 'woman of fashion that does not
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