‘ft . r • .t l ll . •• • , ! , • u L ot SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXIX, NUMBER. 5.1 PRDLISIIED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING Office in Korthern Central Railroad CCM.. patty's Building,north-westcorner Front and Walnut streets. Terms of Subscription IlSte Copy per aunum,ir paidie advance, 6 4 111101 paid within three - Ater.t.ha from commencement of the year, 200 41. C'eamt.gii a C1.0.13.-3r.. No subscription received for a less time than six months; and no paper will be dkcontinued until all Screarages ore paid, unless at the optima the pub lisher. I,l7" . Money: may be remitted by mail at the publish es risk. Bates of Advertising. e square [6 lines] one week, • 1 three weeks, it each .ultsequentinsertion, 10 1 " [l2iines] one week, 50 it three weeks, I. 00 *I ench s ulisequentinsertion, 25 Lergeradrertisement.tn proportion. A liberal dincount will be mode to quarterly, hall , yearly or yeurlyadvertisers,who are strictlyeoufined to their nosiness. tartry. The Land of Dreams ISY w. C. BIIYANS. A mighty realmis the land dreams, NVult steeps that hang is the twilight sky, And weltering oceans and trailing streams That gleam where the dusky valleys lie. Out over its shadowy border flow Sweet says from the world of endless morn, And the nearer mountains catch the glow, And flowers in the nearer fields arc born. The souls of the happy dead repair, From their bowers of light to dad bordering land, And walk in the fainter glory there, With the souls of the living, hand in hand. One calm, sweet smile in that shadowy sphere, From eyes trot open on mirth no more; One wanting word from a voice once dear, How they ri,e is the memory o'er and o'er! Far off from those hills that shine with day, And fields that (doom in the heavenly gales, The Land of Dreams goes stretching away, To dimmer moolit.iins and darker vales. There lie the chambers of guilty delight, There walk the spcc'rrs of guilty fear, And the soft low voices diet (foal through the night, Are whispering Bill in the helpless ear. Dear mnid, in thy giehood's opening flower, Seurce weaned from the lore of childish piny! The tears on who.te cheeks ore Intl the ',bower Tlmt freshens lime early blooms of May. Thine eyes are clnoed, and over thy brow Past thoughtful shadvws and joyous gleams, And I Limn% by the moving hps. that now Thy spirit strays in the Lund of Dreunta. Light hearted maiden. oh, heed thy feet ! Oh, keep where ili a beam of paradi.e A nd only wander where thou may'st meet The Reseed one from its waits. So shalt thou come from the Land of Dreams, With love and peace. to this world of strife; And the light that over that harder streams Shull he on the path of thy daily life. [Graham's Magazine I. November The dead leaves their rich mosatcs, Of olive and gold and brown, I 1 laid on the rain-wet p.ivetnentv, Through alt the embowered town. They were washed by the. Autumn tempo-t, They were trod by hurry ing feet, And the maids came out with their bosoms And swept them into the street, To be crushed and lost forever 'Ncsth the wheels, in the block mire lost The Summer's precious darlings, She nurtured at such a cost! O words that have fallen from me! 0 golden thoughts and true! Must I see in the leaves a symbol Of the fate that awaiteth you! IL April. Again lan come the Spring -time, With the crocus's golden bloom, With the smell of the fresh-turned earth-mould, And the violet's perfume. Pericles uttered a quick, low whinny of recognition, and ceased pawing the floor. "Are you there, Corollas?" presently said another voice. It was that of the Judge,who had follow ed his son into the barn. Tip lay with his elbows on the hay, and listened. "aping to ride, are you? Who saddled From Harper's Magazine. the horse?" "Tip," replied Cephas. Nancy Blynn's Lovers. O gardener! tell me the secret Of My Rowers so rare end so sweat— hove only enriched my garden With the block mire from the street." [Atlantic Monthly grt“titrizo. William Tansley, familiarly called Tip, having finished his afternoon's work in Judge Boxton's garden, milked the cows, and given the pigs their supper—not forget ting to make sure of his own—stole out of the house with his Sunday jacket, and the secret intention of going "a sparking."— Tip's manner of setting about this delicate business was characteristic of his native shrewdness. Ile usually went well provid ed with gifts; and on the present occasion, before quitting the Judge's premises, he "drew ur on" a certain barrel in the barn, which was his bank, where he had made, during the day, frequent deposits of green corn, of the diminutive species called heeket —smuggled in from the garden, and design ed for roasting and eating with the widow Illynn's pretty daughter. Stealthily, in the dusk, stopping now and then to listen Tip brought out the little milky ears from be neath the straw, crammed his pockets with them, and packed full the crown of his old straw hat; then, with the sides of his jacket distended, his trowsers bulged, and a top pling weight on bis head, he peeped cautious ly from the door to see that the way was clear for an escape to the orchard, and thence, "cross lots," to the widow Wynn's house. Tip was creeping furtively behind the wall, stooping, with one hand steadying his hat, and the other his pockets, when a voice called his name. It was the voice of Cephas Boxton. Now if there was a parson in the world whom Tip feared and bated, it was '(that Cephe," and this for many reasons, thechief of which was that the Judge's son did, upon occas ions, flirt with Miss Nancy Blynn, who, sharing the popular prejudice in favor of floe clothes and riches, preferred, apparently, a single passing glance front Cepha.s to all Tip's gifts and attentions. Tip dropped down behind the wall. "Tip Tansleyl" again called the hated voice. 91 50 But the proprietor of that euphonious name not choosing to answer it remained quiet, one hand still supporting his hat, the other his pocket, while young Boston, to whom glimpses of theaforesaid hat, appear ing over the edge of the wall, had previous ly been visible, stepped quickly and noise lessly to tho spot. Tip crouched. with his unconscious eyes in the grass; Cephas watch ed him good-humoredly, leaning over the wall. CNI "If it isn't Tip, what is it?" And Cephas struck one side of the distended jacket with his cane. An ear o f corn dropped out. Ile struck the other side; out dropped another ear.—A couple of smart blows across the back succeeded, followed by more corn, and at the same time Tip, getting up, and en deavoring to protect his pocket, let go his hat, which fell off, spilling its contents in the grass. "Did you call?" gasped the panic-stricken Tip. The rivals stood with the wall between them—as ludicrous a contrast, I dare assert, as ever two lovers of one woman presented. Tip, abashed and afraid, brushed the hair out of his eyes, and made an unsuc cessful attempt to look the handsome and smiling Ccphss in the face. "Do you pretend you did not hear, with all these ears?" said the Judge's son. "I—l was huntin' for a shoe-string,"mur mured Tip, casting dismayed glances along the ground. "I lost one here som'ers." "Tip," said Cephas, putting his cane under Master Tansley's chin to assist him in holding up his head, "lookme in theeye, and tell me—what is the difference, twixt you and that corn?" "I don't know—what?" And liberating his chin, Tip dropped his head again, and began kicking in the grass in search of the imaginary shoe-string. "That is lyingon the ground, and you are lying—on your feet," said Cephas. Tip replied that he was going to the woods for beau-poles, and that lie took - the Corn to feed the cattle in the "back pastur, cause they hooked." "I wish you were as innocent of hooking as the cattle are!" said the incredulous Cephas.—"Go and put the saddle on Per icles." Tip proceeded in a straight line to the sta ble, his pockets dropping corn by the way, while Cephas laughing quietly, walked up and down under the trees. "floss's ready," muttered Tip, from the barn door. Instead of leading Pericles out, he left him in the stall, and climbed up into the hay loft to hide, and brood over his mis fortune until his rival was gone. It was not alone the affair of the stolen corn that troubled Tip; but from the fact that Pericles was ordered, he suspected that Cephas like wise purposed paying a visit to Nancy Blynn. Resolved to wait and watch his departure he lay under the dusty roof, chew ing the bitter cud of envy, and now and then a steam of new-mown Timothy, till Cepbas entered the stalls beneath, and said, "Be still!" in his clear, resonant tones, to Pericles. "lie didn't half curry him. Wait a minute. I'm ashamed to lot a horse go out looking so." And the Judge began to polish off Per icles with wisps of straw. "Darned of I care!"anUttered Tip. "Cephas," said the Judge, "I don't want to make you vain, but I must say you ride the handsomest colt in the county. I'm proud of Pericles. Does his shoe pinch him lately?" "Not since 'twos set. Ile looks well enough, father. Your eyes are better than mine," said Cephas, "if you can see any dust on his coat." "I luf to rub a colt. It does 'em so much good," rejoined the Judge. "Cephas, if you're going by 'Squire Stedman's, I'd like to have you call and get that mortgage." "I don't think I shall ride that way, ,father, I'll go for it in the morning, how ever." "Never mind, unless youhappen that way. Just hand me a wisp of that straw, Cephas." Cephas handed his father the straw. The Judge rubbed away some seconds longer, then said, carelessly. "If you are going up themountain, I wish you would stop and tell Colby 111 take those lambs, and Dead for 'em next week." "I'm not sure that I shall go as far as Col by'e," replied Cepbas. "People says"—tho Judge's coke chang ed rlightly—"yon don't often get farther than tha widow Blynn's when yon travel that road. How is it?" "Ask the widow," said Cent's*. "Ask her daughter, more like," rejoined the Judge. "Cephas, I've kind o' felt as though I ought to have a little taikwithim "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 7, 1858. about that matter. I hope you ain't fooling the girl, Cephas." And the Judge, having broached the sub ject to which all his rubbing had been intro ductory, and his remarks a prologue, wait ed anxiously for his son's reply. Cephas assured him that he should never be guilty of fooling any girl—much less one so worthy as Miss Nancy Blynn. "I'm glad to hear it!" exclaimed the Judge. "Of course I never believed you could do such a thing. But we should be careful of appearances, Cephas. (Just another little handful of straw; that will do.) People have already get up the absurd story that you are going to marry Nancy." Tip's ears tingled. There was a brief si lence, broken only by the rustling of the straw. Then Cephas said. "Why absurd, father?" "Absurd—because—why, of course, it isn's true, is it?" "I must confess, father," replied Cephas, "the idea has occurred to me that Nancy— would make me—a good wife." It is impossible to say which was the most astonished by this candid avowal, the Judge or Master William Tansley. The latter had never once imagined that Cephas' intentions . respecting Nancy were so serious; and now the inevitable conviction forced upon him, that, if his rich rival really wished to marry her, there was no possible chance left for him, smote his heartwith qualms of despair. "Cephas, you stagger me!" said the Judge. "A young man of your education and pros pects—" "Nancy is not without some education, father, "interposed Cephas, as the Judge hesitated. "Better than that, she has heart and soul. She is worthy to be any man's wife!" Although Tip entertained precisely the same opinions, he was greatly dismayed to hear them expressed so generously by Cephas. The Juage rubbed away again at Per icles' flanks and shoulders with wisps of straw. "No doubt, Cephas, you think so—and sartin I haven't anything agin' Nancy—she's a good girl enough, fur's I know. But just reflect on't—you're of age, and in one sense you can do as you please, but you ain't too old to hear reason. You know you might marry 'most any girl you choose." "So I thought, and I choose Nancy," an swered Cephas, preparing to lead out Per icles. "I wish the linss'd fling him, and break his neck!" whispered the devil in Tip's heart. "Don't be hasty; wait a minute, Cephas," said the Judge. "You know what I mean —you could marry rich. Take a practical view of the matter. Get rid of these boy ish notions. Just think how it will look for a young man of your cloth—worth twenty thousand dollars any day I'm a mind to give it to you—to go and marry the widow Blynn's daughter! a girl that takes in sew ing! What are you thinking of Cephas?" "I hear," replied Cephas, quietly, "she does her sewing well." "Well, suppose she does? She'd make a good enough wife for some such fellow as Tip, no doubt; but I thought a son of mine would ha' looked higher. Think of you and Tip after the same girl. Come, if you've any pride about you, you'll pull the saddle off the colt and stay at home." Although the Judge's speech, as we per ceive, was notquite free from provincialisms, his arguments were none the less powerful on that account. He said a good deal more in the same strain, holding out threats of unforgiveness and disinheritance on the one hand, and praise and promises on the other, Cephas standing with the bridle in his hand, and poor Tip's anxious heart beating like a pendulum between the hope that his rival would be convinced and the fear that he would not. "The question is simply this, father," said Cephas, growing impatient; "Which to choose, love or money? And I assure you I'd much rather please you than displease you." "That's the way to talk, Cephas! That sounds like:" exclaimed the Judge. "'But if I choose money," Cephas hasten ed to say, "money it shall be. I ought to make a good thing out of it. What will you give to make it an object?" "Give?—Give you all I've got, of course. What's mine is yours--or will be, some day." "Some day isn't the thing. I prefer one good bird in the hand to any number of fine songsters in the bush. Give me five thousand dollars, and it's bargain." "Pooh! pooh?" said the Judge. "Very well; than stand aside and let me and Pericles pass." "Don't be unreasonable, Cephast Let the colt stand. What do you want of five thou sand dollars?" "Never mind; if you don't see fit to give it, go and see Nancy." "No, no, you shan't! Let go the bridle. I'd rather give ten thousand," • "Very well; give me ten, then!" "I mean, don't go to being wild and headstrong now! I'll give you a thousand dollars, if nothing else will satisfy you." "I'll divide the difference with you," said Cephas. "You shall give me three thou sand, and that, you must confess, is very lit tle." "It's a bargain!" exclaimed the Judge.— And Tip was thrilled with joy. "I'm sorry I didn't stick to fire thousand!" said Cephas. "But I wish to ask, can I, for instance, marry Melissa More? Next to Nancy, she is the prettiest girl in town." "But she has no position; there is the same objection to her there is to Nancy.— The bargain is, you are not to marry any poor girl; and I mean to have it in writing. So pull off the saddle and come into the house." "If I had been shrewd I might just as well have got five thousand," said Cephas. Tip Tansley, now more excited than he had ever been in in his life, waited until the two had left the barn; then, creeping over the hay, hitting his head in the dark against the low rafters, he slid down from his hiding-place, carefully descended the stairs, gathered up what he could find of the scattered ears of Picket, and set out to run through the orchard and across the fields to the widow , . Blynn's cottage. The evening was starry„and the glittering edges of the few dark clouds that lay low in the east predicted the rising moon. Halting only to climb fences, or to pick up now and then the corn that persisted in dropping from his pockets, or to scrutinise some dark object that he thought looked "pokerish" in the dark; prudently shunning the dismal woods on one side, and the pasture where the "hooking" cattle were, on the other, Tip kept on, and arrived all palpitating and perspiring, at the widow's house, just as the big, red moon • was coming up amidst the clouds over the hill. He 'had left a good deal of his corn and all his courage behind him in his flight; for Tip, ardently as he loved the beautiful Nancy, could lay no claim to her on the poetical ground that "Only the brave deserve the fair." With uncertain knuckles Tip rapped on the humble door, having first looked through the kitchen window, and seen the widow sitting there, sewing by the light of a tal low candle. "Good evening, William," said Mrs. Blynn, opening the loor, with her specta les on her forehead, and her work gathered up in her lap under her beat figure. "Come in; take a chair." "Guess I can't stop," replied Tip, sidling into the room with'his hat on. "How's all the folks? Nancy to hum?" "Nancy's up stairs; I'LL speak to her.— Nancy," called the widow at the chamber door, "Tip is here! Better take a chair while you stop," she added, smiling upon the visitor, who always on arriving "guessed he couldn't stor," and usually ended by re maining until he was sent away. "Wal, luny as well; jest as cheap sittin' as standin'," said Tip, depositing the bur den of his personality—weight, 146 Ibs,— upon ono of the creaky, splint bottomed chairs. "I'ooty warm night, kind o'," raising his arm to wipe his face with his sleeve, upon which an ear of that discontented Jacket took occasion to tumble upon the floor.— "Hello! what's that! By gracious if 'tain't green corn! Got any £re? Guess we'll have a roast." And Tip, taking of his hat began to empty his stuffed pockets into it. "Law me?" said the widow, squinting over her work, "I thought your pockets stuck out amazin'! I hu'n't had the first taste of green corn this year. It's real kind o' thoughtful in you, Tip; but the fire is all out, and we can't think of nestle on't to-night, as I see." "Mebby Nancy will," chuckled Tip.— T'Ain't she cousin' down? Any time to-night Nancy!" cried Tip, raising his voice, to be heard by his beloved in her retreat. "You do'no what I brought ye!" Now, sad as the truth may sound to the reader sympathising with Tip, Nancy cared little what he had brought, and experienced no very ardent desire to come down and meet him. She sat at her window looking at the stars, and thinking of somebody who she had hoped would risit her that night; but that somebody was not Tip; although the first sound of his footsteps did set her heart fluttering with expectation, his near apprach, breathing fast and loud had given her a chill of disappointment—almost dis gust; and she now much preferred her own thoughts, and the moonrise through the trees in the direction of Judge Boxton's house, to all the green corn, and all thn green lovers in New England. Her mother, however, who commiserated Tip, and be lieved as much in being civil to neighbors as she did in keeping the Sabbath, called again, and gave her no peace until she had left the window, the moonrise, and her ro mantic dreams, and descended into the pro saic atmosphere of the kitchen, and of Tip and his corn. Tip's month, which had been watering in anticipation of the roasted fuckel, watered more than ever at the sight of Nancy's ex quisite eyes and lips. Her plain, neat calico gown, enfolding a wonderful little rounded embodiment of grace and beauty seemed to him an atire It for anp queen or fairy that ever lived. But it was the same old tragic story over again—although Tip loved Nancy, Nancy loved not Tip. Well for him had his mouth only watered for coral However, he might flatter himself, her regard for him was on the cool side of sisterly—simply the toleration of a kindly heart for ono who was not to blame for be ing less bright than other people, She took her sewing, and sat by the table Oh, so beautiful! Tip thought; and envel oped in a charming atmosphere which seemed to touch and transfigure every ob ject except himself. The humble apart ment, the splint-bottomed chairs, the stock ings drying on the pole, even the widow's cap and gown, and the old black snuffers on the table—all, save poor homely Tip, stole a ray of grace from the halo of her loveliness. Nancy discouraged the proposition of roasting corn, and otherwise deeply grieved her visitor by intently working and think ing, instead of taking part in the conversa tion. At length a bright idea occurred to him. "Got a slate and pencil?" The widow furnished the required arti cles. lie then found a book, which hap pened to be a Testament, and using the cover as a. rule marked out the Flan of a game. "Fox and geese, Nancy; ye play?" And haring picked off a sufficient number of kernels from one of the ears of corn, and placed them on the slate for geese, ho se lected the largest he could find for a fox, stuck it upon a pin, and proceeded to roast it in the candle. "Which'll ye have, Nancy?"—pushing the slate toward her; "take your choice, and give me the geese; then beat me if you can! Come won't ye play?" "Oh dear, Tip, what a tease you are!" said Nancy. "I don't want to play. I must work. Get mother to play with you, Tip." "She don't wanter!" exclaimed Tip.— "Come, Nancy; then I'll tell ye suthia' I heard jist 'fore I come away—suthia"bout you!" And Tip, assuming a careless air, pro ceeded to pile up the ears of corn, log-house fashion, upon the table, while Nancy was finishing her scam. "About me?" she echoed, "You'd ha' thought so!" said Tip, slyly glancing over the corn as he spoke to watch the effect on Nancy. "Cephe and the old man had the all-firedest row—tell you!" . He bitched around in his chair, and rest ing his elbows on his knees, looked up, shrewd and grinning, into her face. "William Tansley, what do you mean?" "As if you couldn't guess! Cepho was comin' to see you to-night—but I guess he won't," chuckled Tip. "Say! ye ready for fox and geese?" "How do you know that?" demanded Nancy. "'Cause I heard! The old man stopped him, and Cephe was coin' to ride over him; but the old man was too much for him; he jerked him off the boss, and there they had it, lickety-switch, rough-and-tumble, till Cephe give in, and told the old man, rather'n have any words he'd promise never to come and see you again if he'd give him three thousand dollars; and the old man said 'twas a bargain!" "Is that true, Tip?" cried the widow, dropping her work and raising her bands. "True as I live and breathe, and draw the breath of life, and have a livin' bein' !" Tip solemnly affirmed. "Just as I always told you, Nancy!" ex claimed the widow. "I knew how it would be. I felt sartin Cephas could'nt be de pended upon. his father never'd bear a word to it, I always said. It'll be all for the best, I hope. Now don't Nancy; don't, I beg and beseech." She saw plainly by the convulsive move ment of the girl's bosom and the quivering of her lip that some passionate demonstra tion was threatened. Tip meanwhile bad advanced still nearer, contorting his neck and looking up with leering malice into her face until his nose almost touchod her cheek. "What do ye think now of Cephe Bos ton?" he asked, tauntingly; "hey?" A stinging blow upon the ear rewarded his impertinence, and ho recoiled with such sudden impetuosity that his chair went over and threw him sprawling upon the floor. "Gosh all hemlock!" he muttered, scram bling to his feet, rubbing first his elbow, then his ear. "What's that fur, I'd like to know—knockin' a feller down?" "What do I think of Cephas Boston?" cried Nancy. "I think the same I did be fore—why shouldn't I? Your slander is no slander. Now sit down and behave your. self, and don't put your face too near mine, if you don't want your cars boxed!" "Why Nancy, how could you?" groaned the widow. Nancy made no reply, but resumed her work very much as if nothing had happened. "Hurt you much, William?" "Not much; only it made my elbow sing like all Jerewsalem! Never mind; she'll find out! Where's my bat?" "You ain't going, bo yo?" said 3lrs. Blynn, with an air of solicitude. "I guess I ain't wanted here," mumbled Tip, pulling his ]rat over his ears. Re struck the slate, scattering the fox and geese, and demolished the house of green corn. "You can keep that; I don't want it. Good night, Miss Blynn." Tip placed peculiar emphasis upon the name, and fumbled a good while with the latch, expecting Nancy would say some thing; but she maintained a coal and digni fied silence; and as nobody urged him to stay, he reluctantly departed, his heart full of injury, and his hopes collapsed like his pockets. For some minutest Nancy continued to sew intent and fast, her flushed face bowed over the seam; then suddenly her eyes flamed, her fingers forgot their cunning, the needle shot blindly hither and thither, and the quickly-drawn thread snapped in twain. "Nancy! Nancy! don't!" pleaded Mrs Blynn; "I beg of ye, now don't:" $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE "Oh mother," burst forth the young girl, with sobs, "I am so unhappy! What did I strike poor Tip for? He did not know any better. lam always doing something so wrong! lie 'could not have made up the story. Cephas would have come here to , night—l know he would!" "Poor child! poor childl" said Mrs. Blynn. "Why couldn't you hear to me? I always told you to be careful and not like Cephas too well. But maybe Tip didn't understand. May be Cephas will come to-morrow, and then all will be explained." • "Cephas is true, I know—l know!" wept Nancy, "but his father—" The morrow came and passed, and no Cephas. The next day was Sunday, and Nancy went to church, not with an undivi ded heart, but with human love, and hope, and grief mingling strangely with her pray ers. She knew Cephas would be there, and felt that a glance of his eye would tell her all. But—for the first time in many months it happened—they sat in the same house of worship, she with her mother in their hum ble corner, he in th e Judge's conspicuous pew, and no word or look passed between them. She went home, still to wait; tortured with the wasting anguish known only to those who love and doubt. Day after day of leaden loneliness, night after night of watch ing and despair, succeeded, and still no Cephas. Tip also had discontinued his visits. Mrs. Blynn saw a slow certain change come over her child; her joyous laugh rang no more; neither were her tears often seen or sighs heard; but she seemed dis ciplining herself to bear with patience and serenity the desolateness of her lot. One evening it was stormy, and Nancy and her mother were together in the plain, tidy kitchen, both sewing and both silent; gusts of rain lashing the windows, and the cat purring in a chair. Nancy's heart was more quiet than usual; for, albeit expecta tion was not quite extinct, no visiter surely could be looked for on such a night. But is it not true that the spirit loves surprise; and that, when least expected, grace arrives?— This truth applies alike to the seeming trifles of life and to matters of the greatest moment; and it was made manifesttoNaney that night; first when, amidst the sounds of the storm, she heard footsteps and a knock at the door. She need not have started and changed color so tumultuously, however, for the visiter was only Tip. "Good °venial said young Master Tans ley, stopping, pulling off his dripping hat and I shaking it. "I'd no idea it rained so! I was gobs' by, and thought I'd stop in. Ye mad, Nancy?" and he peered at the young girl from beneath his wet hair with a bash ful grin. Nancy's heart was too much softened to cherish any resentment, and with suffused eyes she begged Tip to forgive the blow. "Wal! I do' no' what I'd done to be knocked down fur," began Tip, with a pout ing and aggrieved air; "though I s'poso I deu taw. But I guess what I told ye turned out about so, after all; didn't it, hey?" At Nancy's look of distress Mrs. Blynn made signs for Tip to forbear. But he had come too far through the darkness and rain with an exciting piece of news to be thus easily silenced. "I han't brought ye no corn this timeofor I didn't know as you'd roast it if I did.— Say Nancy! Cephe and the old man had it again to-day; and the Judge forked over the three thousand dollars; I seen him! lie was only waitin' to raise it. It's real mean in Coptic., I s'poso you think—mebby 'tis; hut, by gracious! three thousand dollars is a tarnal slue of money!" Hugely satisfied with the effect this an nouncement produced, Tip sprawled upon a chair and chewed a stick, like ono resolved to make himself comfortable for the evening. "Saxafrax--ye want some?" be said breaking off with his teeth, a liberal piece of the stick. "Say, Nancy! ye needn't look so mad. Cephe has sold out, I tell ye; and when I offer ye saxafrax, ye may as well take some." Not without effort Nancy held her peace; and Tip, extending the fragment of the sas safras-root which his teeth had split off; was complacently urging her to accept it— "'Twas real good"—when the sound of hoofs was heard; a halt at the gate; a horse man dismounting, leading his animal to the shed; a voice saying, "Be still, Pericles!" and footsteps approaching the door. "Nancy! Nancy!" articulated Mrs. Blynn, scarcely less agitated than her daughter, "he has come." "It's Cephe!" whispered Tip, hoarsely.— "If he should ketch me hero! I—l guess I'll go! Confound thht Cephe, anyhow!" "Rap, rap! two light, decisive strokes of a riding whip on the kitchen door. Mrs. Blynn glanced around to see if everything was tidy; and Tip, dropping his sassafras, whirled about and wheeled about like Jim Crow, in the excitement of the moment. "Mother—go!" utter Nancy, pale with emotion, hurriedly pointing to the door; "I can't." A made her escape by the stairway; ob serving which, the bewildered Tip, who had indulged a frantic thought of leaping from the window to avoid meeting his dread rival, changed his mind and rushed after her.— Unadvised of his intention, and thinking only of shutting herself from the sight of Cephas, Nancy closed the kitohen door rather severely upon Tip'e fingers; but his fear rendered him insensible to pain, and he [WHOLE NUMBER, 1,462. followed her, scrambling up the dark stair case just as Mrs. Blynn admitted Ce phas. ' Nancy did not immediately perceive what bad occurred, but presently, amid the sound of the rain on the roof and of the wind about the gables, she heard the unmsitakable per turbed breathing of her luckless lover. " Nancy," whispered Tip, " where be ye? I've 'most broke my head against this blasted beam!" "What are you here for?" demanded Nancy " 'Cause:l didn't want him to see me. lle won't stop but a minute, then I'll go down. I did give my head the all-firedest tunk:" said Tip. Mrs. Glynn opened the door to inform Nancy of the arrival of a visitor, and the light from below, partially illuminating the fugitive's retreat, showed Tip in a sitting posture on one of the upper stairs, dili gently rubbing that portion of his cranium which bad come in collision with the beam? "Say, Nancy, don't go!" whispered Tip; "don't ]eave me hero in the dark!" For the widow bad closed the door, and Tip was suspicious of bugbears. Nancy had too many tumultuous thoughts of her own to give much heed to his distress; and having hastily arranged her hair and dress by the sense of touch, she glided by him, bidding him keep quiet, and descended the stairs to the door, which she opened and closed again, leaving him to the wretched solitude of the place, which appeared to him a hundred fold more dark and dreadful than before. Cephas in the mean time had divested himself of his oil-cloth capote, and entered the neat little sitting room, to which ho was civilly shown by the widow. "Nancy'll be down in a minute." And placing a candle upon the mantle-piece, Mrs. Blynn withdrew. Nancy having regained her self-posses sion, appeared mighty dignified before her lover; gave him a passive hand; declined with averted head, Ids proffered kiss; and seated herself at a cool and respectable dis tance. "Nancy, what is the matter?" said Cephas, in mingled amazement and alarm. "You act as though I was a pedlar, and you didn't care to trade." • 'You can trade, Sir—you can make what bargains you please wit% others; but—" Nan cy's aching and swelling heart came up and choked her. "Dear Nancy! what have I done? What has changed you so? Have you forgotten— the last time I was here?" " 'Twould not be strange if I had, it was so long ago." Poor Nancy spoke cuttingly; but her sar casm was a sword with two points, which pierced her own heart quite as much as it wounded her lover's. "Nancy," said Cephas, as ho took her hand again so tenderly that it was like put ting heaven away to withdraw it, "if wo love each other, let us be true with each other. Can you not trust me? Has not your heart assured you that I could never stay away from you so without good rea sons?" "Oh, I don't doubt but you had rea.sonsi" replied Nancy, with a bursting anguish in her tones. "But suck reasons!" "Such reasons?" repeated Cephas, grieved and repelled. "Will you please inform me what you mean? For, ns I live, I am ignore LI t!" "Ah, Cephas! it is not true, then," cried Nancy, with sudden hope, "that—your father—" "What of my father?" "That he opposes us; that ho has offered you money—" A vivid emotion flashed across the youug man'F, face "How—what have you beard, Nancy?" "Is't true?" said Nancy; her rigid fee ttires, her intense look, her unnatural tone of voice, all betraying the painful and dan gerous tension of feeling with which sho awaited his reply, "tell mc! tell me quick!" "I would have preferred to tell you with out being questioned so sharply," replied Cephas. "But since hearsay has got the start of me, and brought you the news, I can only answer—he has offered me money." "To buy you—to hire you—" "Not to marry any poor girl—that's the bargain, Nancy," said Cephas, with the ten derest of smiles. "And you have accepted?" cried Nancy, quickly. "I have accepted," responded Cephas. "I have accepted," responded Cephas. Nancy tittered not a word, but she sat like one frozen by despair, her eyes full of hopeless passion, fixed intent and tearless upon her lover. "I came to tell you all this; but I should have told you in a different way, could I have had my choice," said Cephas, with profound pity and affection. "What I hate done is for your happiness as much as my own. My father threatened to disinherit me if I married a poor girl; and how could I boar the thought of subjecting you to such a lot? Ile has given me three thousand dollars—l only received it to-day or lehould have come to you before—for Nancy—dear Nancy? do not look so strange! it is for you, thisi money—do you hear?" lie attempted to draw her toward him, but she sprang indignantly to her feet. "Basel base!" she exclaimed, trembling with emotion. "Cephas, had you struck me dead it would have been less cruel than this! To offer me money!" And she covered her burning face with her hands.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers