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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.
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'Months; and no paper will be discontinued until all
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% 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