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After the Ball They tat and combed their beautiful hair, Their long, bright tressee, one by one, .A.a they laughed and talked in the chamber there, After die revel was done Idly they talked of waltz and quadrille, Idly they laughed like other girls, Who over the Ere, when all is still, Comb out their braids and curls gobe of sa in at d Bru-eels lace, Knots of flowers and ribbons, too, Scattered about in every place. For the revel is through And Maud and Madge in robes of white, The prettiest night gowns under the sun; Sto:icingless,slipperless, sit in the, night, For the revel is done,— Si t and comb their beautiful hair. Those wonderful waves of brown and gold, Till the fire is out in the chamber there. And the little bare feet are cold Thin out of the gatheratg winter chill, All out of bitter St. Agnes weather, While the fire is out and the hour is still, Maud and Madge together,— Maud and Madge in robes of white, The prettiest nicht gowns under the sun, Curtained away from the chilly night, After the revel is done,— Float along in a splendid dream, To a golden gittera's tinkling tune, While a thourand lustre* shimmering strewn, In a palace's grand saloon. Flashing of jewels, and flutter of laces, Tropical odors sweeter then musk, Men and women with beautiful faces And eyes of tropical dusk,— And one (ace shining out like a star, One face hunting the dreams of each, And ene voice sweeter than others are, Breaking into silvery speech,— Telling, through lips of bearded bloom, Au old, old story over again, As down the royal bannerol room, To the golden gittern's strain, Two and two they dreamily walk, While an unseen spirit walks beside, And, all unheard in the lover's talk, Be cluimeth one for a bride. Oh. Maud and Madge, dream on together, With never a pang of jealous fear: For, ere the butt. r St. Agues weather, Shall whiten another year, Robed for the bridal, and robed for the tomb, Braided brown hair, and golden tress, Irhereil be only one of you left for the bloom Of the bearded Host° arena—. Only one for the bridal pearls, The robe of satin and Brussels lace,— Only one to blush through her curls At the sight of her lover's face Oh, heatniful Madge. in your bridal white, Fur you the revel has just begun; But for her who sleeps in your anus to-night The revel of Life is done! ilut robed and crowned with year sainily Queened' heaven and bride of the sun, .oh, beautiful Maud, you'll never miss The kisses another bath wont grtectiono. "Lost, Stolen or Strayed." TROM THE NOTE BOOK OF A MEDICAL STUDENT The following strange event was related to me when a student in —Hospital, by a household servant of the name of Ann Fairly. She came into the Hospital to be cured of a disease to which her class are pe culiarly liable—a white swelling of the knee. She was at that time about forty years of age. In her youth this person's first place was in the capacity of house maid to a nobleman's family, the head of whom I shall call the Marquis of Cornber. r,y, a personage of some celebrity, connec tted--and not remotely—with royalty.: Per ;baps it will be best if I tell the story in her own words, exactly as I put it down at the ,time she related it. "My lady had an intimate friend, Lady 7Mosshill—a countess she was, and a very t fair, beautiful woman to look at, pleasant . spoken, too, and not in the least haughty.— Ir;te lady was often on a visit to Lady Corn tbervy, .and Wm visits mostly lasted a very l long time; for the Earl, her husband, was „employed a great deal in Parliament, and phasing no children Lady Mosshill felt dull. rSo she used to tell Theresa, my lady's sec ond maid, who attended Lady llossbill when she visited at .any lord's, to save her ladyship from bringing her own maid. "After.l.bpd lived at my lord's for about twelve months the housekeeper sent for us of the servant's ball, one morning, to come together to her room. We wondered a good deal What could be the matter, but gvaloally sea ,fonnd onrselves all collected in the housekeeper's ,room. Mrs. Merry's speech was a sharp one, very much to the purpose, and not at All satisfactory—at ,least to the feelings of some of as. "'lt is very unpleasant business! have ,to speak about.' said she; 'but it worries me a good deal more than, I dare say, it will any of you. To speak plainly, and with .ontany preamble, my lady Nisbet some of her diamonds, and of course suspicion falls on• the servants.' "There was a general exclamation. At last some one requested to know if suspi cion had fallen on any particular individ ual. SI 50 "Not Mrs. Merry answered.— Miss Dormer and Mlle. Theresa, my lady's own attendants bad desired their drawers and boxes, even their pockets might be •searched; and it had been done without any result affecting the characters of these twe young persons. "Everybody was vociferous in denying the guilt imputed. "As for myself, i was excessively indig nant, for I kept my lady's room clean, though only under housemaid; and knowing that I would have died sooner than have ta ken the diamonds, I was very vindictive.— I got severely rebuked by the housekeeper. '"Noone is accused,' she said, in reply to my angry defence 'but some one has taken them; they could'nt go without hands, that is certain. They are very valuable, and my lady will feel anoyed at their disappear ance.' "We all went to the drawing-room to my lady, and demanded that our boxes and our persons might be searched. She acceeded to the request. "'No one need feel agrieved,' she ob served, at this proceeding; innocent per sons, of course, will remain blameless, and the guilty only will be detected.' "The search was made, but fruitlessly.— As Mrs. Merry observed, the house was well nigh turned out of windows; yet neith er my lady's diamonds nor the thief who took them were discovered. "A detective officer was brought into the house, but even his sagacity failed to dis cover the truth; and so, fon,a time, the mat ter dropped; not, however, without leaving a soreness rankling in every dependant of that noble household. "I believe now, that I had what is usu ally called tco much spirit for my station in life—perhaps I ought rather to say, too much temper. I was no more individually suspected than any of my fellow servants; but I had a sturdy honestness of soul, and it galled me terribly to think my honesty should be suspected. (I frequently de clared that I should never rest till the real thief was discovered; and, to say the truth, my restless and suspicious vigilance ren dered me as good a detective as if I had been trained to the business. "My father, who was a shoemaker in the village where my lord's principal coun try residence was situated, was a very vio lent rural pc.liticion, and a fierce upholder of what he called the 'Peoples Rights.' I used to hear him harangue his neighbors, hour after hour, on evenings when his work was done, and they met in the kitchen —which served our family for a 'parlor, kitchen and hall'—over a pipe and a tank ard; for, with all his violence of a party spirit, my father was no pot-house frequen ter. lie was like many Englishmen of his class, whom I have since observed, a fierce decrier o( the vices of out aristocracy—their pride, arrogance and extravagance—and yet, withal in his heart of hearts, a secret admirer or a lord. It mast have been ow ing to the latter feeling, that when my lady expressed a gracious intention of taking me into her household, my father did not offer the violent opposition which might have been expected from one of his radical opin ions. Some resistance on his part certainly occurred; but the shallowest observor might have seen it was assumed more for the sake of consistency than for any dislike to my living with 'real nobility.' "However, I had imbibed enough of his prejudices to set myself up as a talker against my superiors—a proceeding for which I was often scolded, and not unfre quentiy threatened with dismissal. On the occasion of my lady's loss my irritable and ehufed spirit vented its bitterness against the whole noble order to which my _lord's family belonged.. It is a wonder to me now that I was not at once sent away for imper tinence and sauciness, but Mrs. Merry, the housekeeper was somewhat inclined that way herself, so I suppose sbe had a fellow feeling. I took a particular spite against Lady Mosshill on the first occasion my lady had us all into 'the drawing-room, and Lady Mosshill was present. She wore, the whole time of my lady's lecture and exhortation to confess the truth, a cold, sneering smile, that might have better sat on the features of a fiend than of a living woman. "I was the more irritable, because, having to keit, clean my lady's suite of rooms and those appropriated to Lady Mosshill, which were ner Lady—'s, I felt I waamore pe culiarly liable to be suspected than the ser vants who were more remotely employed. "However, time wore on; Lady Mosshill returned home, and the diamonds were al most forgotten. and rarely talked about.— My hot impatience of blame, real or impu ted, began to calm down. I gave satisfao tion in my work, for I was determined al ways to do every duty well, and I wished to stay in my present service long enough to obtain a first-rate character. "Things were thus coming round, when my Lady Hornbill came again to pay my lady a milk of some length. Mademoiselle Theresa announced it some days before her Ladyship's argicsr.i. ""Dat mauvaise•sujet, mi ledi blosshll, is coming. Anne,' said the French girl in her broken English. She hated my 14dy Moe "NO ENTERTAINMENT /9 SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING. JULY 30, 1859 shall, as all lady's maids hate those on whom—not being their real mistresses—they are forced to attend. 'lt must be dat you get her rooms ready, als—bah! but I hate her so moosh—she is vat .you call the beast in the sty—cochon—ah—cochcn—coehon!' and Theresa stamped her little kid-shod foot, and ground her white teeth. "'She give to me an old robe vat I vould not pick up from de street,' she said, as she ran up stairs; and, to say truth, I was far from being ill-pleased at Theresa's spite, for I liked, as I before said, Lady Itlosshill very little better than did my lady's French femme de chambre. "In a day or two Lady Mosshill arrived, and my lady and she were as intimate as ever. They were, indeed, the dearest of friends, and any one, to see them walking in the grounds together, their arms around each other's waists, their hands clasped, would have taken them for two of the veriest boarding-school misses, brimful of senti ment and romance. It was in conversation always 'my love,' and 'my dearest,' and they could scarcely be a moment apart. We could hardly help laughing in the servants' hall, when we talked of the sentimental friends Sip which existed between these la dies, neither of them much less than forty— one of them, my lady, the mother of grown up daughters. "Lady Mosshill had been Lady Corn berry's visitor about three weeks, when, one morning, my lady's bell rang as if the hou e was on fire. Miss Dormer, who was chat ting to me on the grand staircase, which it was part of my duty to hearthstone every morning, ran up stairs for her very life; and some of the men-servants came running from the different offices on the stairs.— Everybody believed something serious had occurred. "Presently, Miss Dormer came down stairs, as white as ashes; she went into the housekeeper's room. I must tell the truth —we all followed to the door of Mrs. Mer ry's apartment, in hopes of hearing some thing; and something we did hear, for Miss Dormer had left the door on jar, and was speaking in loud excited tones. "'Where can they be? Who takes the things?' said Mrs. Merry, in a vexed tone. "'That, heaven only knows,' said Dor mer, half crying; 'but one thing I knew, in nocent people, Mrs. Merry, are not to have their characters taken away every moment in this way; and I shall give my lady warn ing, that's what I shall do. Some devil's in this house,' said the lady's maid, stamp ing her foot violently, for she was by no means remarkable for mildness. "'Go, Mrs. Merry, pray, go,' she contin ued, 'to my lady; there's her bell again.' "The portly housekeeper bustled up stairs to my lady's room, scolding, as she came out, because we were idling there, she said, listening to what was no business of ours. "'lt was our business,' James, second footman, said, 'if anything was wrong again with my lady's diamonds; fro had been sus pected once, and might be suspected again.' "Mrs. Merry angrily bade us go about our work; but we did not rest till we ques tioned Dormer, and learned that my lady had lost more jewels. "And again there was a fine commotion— searching, detective officers; and again, as before, suspicion fell on no one, and the lost jewels seemed as far off as ever. "Many of their servants left their places. Such constant attacks of suspicion were too much; but they gained nothing by that, only the remark that perhaps they dreaded discovery. As for me, though I spoke my mind freely enough, I stayed. I had been preferred by my lady, because I had been brought up in a model school of hers, where I bad carried off the prizes for household work from all competitors. I had not been in my lord's service two years, when the upper housemaid dying, I was promoted to her situation—a rare thing—for upper ser vants in a great house, must perfectly know their business. I bad worked hard to learn mine thoroughly; and, moreover, knew all the ways of the house, which a stranger might be slow in acquiring. So my pert ness was reprimanded, and my services re• . tamed. "And the commotion died away again, and six weeks passed away in peace. and quietness. Lady Mosahill, on leaving Lady Cornberry'e house, went to Paris for the winter. "We saw nothing of her ladyship who had been loud in her remarks about the missing jewels, till the ensuing spring, when she arrived on another visit, intended to be a lengthened one. "She remained about a month; and, at length, to the great joy of the servants, who hated her, gave notice that she would depart next day. On this one, she kept her own room all the morning; superintended the packing by Madlle. Therese; and finally, with her own bands, packed a small valise with a few necessaries, for she was to spend a day on her way home with some peer, whose name I forget now. All this The. rese told us, when she came to take up hot water for Lady Mosshill's toilette. "'I wish she would Leave her room,' said I, not in a very good humor, 'all my work is thrown back by these ladies keeping their I rooms so late.' " 'Never° you mind, Anne,' said Therese; 'my ledi, she vill dress herself directly. She is going to my Lae :Virden's for dinner, and you shall go to her room den.' "I grumbled a good deal; but I had to wait Lady fleaspre, for all that; it was six o'clock that evening before got into the room to clean it. "Therese was gone down to tea; I looked round; Lady Mosshill's things were all cleared away, and packed ready for depar ture. The valise stood on a chair close to the toilette; and I noticed that though the key was in the padlock, yet it was not locked. I stood, broom in hand; and strange thou:ag, for which I could never account came over me. To this day I can hardly tell what prompted me so powerfully that I could not resist the temptation. I placed my hand on the top--Lady Mosshill's night robe came first; then a small basket; and further down, a case of Morocco. How my heart heat as I took it in my hand; how stealthily I looked round the room, as if I were about to become a thief instead of to detect one. "I opened that case, which I had found in Lady Mosshill's valise; and there, on a bed of snowy quilted satin, reposed two of my own lady's most valued jewels—a brooch of diamonds, and a bracelet of emeralds and diamonds mixed. I had seen them on Lady Cornberry's toilette but the day previously; and Miss Dormer herself had pointed them out to me as unmatched for beauty and value. They had been presented to my lady by her own father, the Marquis of— "If a doubt fur a moment disturbed my mind it was soon dispelled; I knew those jewels again too well to be deceived; I did not doubt long. Now, after the lapse of years, perhaps the wish that I had acted otherwise comes across me now and then; but at that time I was young, somewhat vindictive, and fiercely sensitive about the honesty of the poor. I threw down my broom, and replacing the jewel case where I had found it, I went out of the room, locked the door, and flew down the great staircase, regardless of the servants who were passing to and fro. The family were all assembled in the drawing-room for the half hour previous to dinner; not knowing or heeding if visitors were present, I open• ed the door and walked boldly in. It is more than possible that such a breach of duty would have been punished with instant dismissal, had it not been for my pale face, wild looks and excited manner. There were present my lord and lady, my lady's two brothers, and two or three strange visitors. "My lady rose up from her chair, "'What does this mean, Anne?' she said. "I was too eager to exonerate myself and my fellow-servants at that minute, to have much regard for the noble presence I had intruded on, not being indeed at any time overawed by contact with great folks, from whom I had seen a good many little actions; therefore I said— "'Please, my lady, will you listen to what I have to say?' "'Good Heaven!' said her ladyship, hold ing her scent-bottle to her nose, and turning to my lord, who stood on the hearth, 'is she deranged, do you think?' "'No, my lady,' said I, 'I am not mad, if you mean that; but you accused us, my lady, in the servants' hall, of stealing your diamonds. I said then, my lady, as I say now, it isn't always poor folks who steel.— If you, my lady, or my lord, or any lady or gentleman, will please come with me to Lady Mosshill's room, I'll show you, my lady, who's the real thief, and the true cause of your servants, my lady, being wronged.' "When I said diamonds, my lady jumped up quite alert, though she had been fainting a few minutes before, in the fear that I was a lunatic. "'My diamonds?' said she. 'Load on, girl; I'll follow you!' "I wanted no more. Turning round, I ran up stairs, followed by my lord, my lady, my lady's brothers, and even one or two of the visitors. Curiosity is as great in fine people as in poor servants. We never stop ped till we got to Lady Mosshill's apart ments. I unlocked the bedroom door, brought my lady to the valise, took the case out (acknowledging I had broke into it,) opened it and asked my lady if these were her jewels. She was silent for a moment from amazement, and I believe horror, for though lady Cornberry never scrupled to believe ill of a poor servant, she was dread fully shocked to find a countess could be a thief. When every one had become quite convinced, that Lady Mosshill was the cul prit, I was dismissed, and my lord and my lady, with their guests. decended to the draw ingroora. Dinner had been waiting some time, and after some talk, they all went to the dining-room, with the exception of my lord, Lord John, my lady's eldest brother; those gentlemen retired into the library, and had a tray taken there to them. 'The fruit of their resolves was soon known; James was summond, and he came down to tell us that one of the grooms was to takes horse and ride directly to Milber ry Castle—the place to which Lady Moss hill had gone on a visit. This groom we found, was bearer of a letter to Lady Moss hill; and the English lady's maid informed us that my lady told her the letter was from my lord, forbidding the noble culprit to return to his house. Certain, it is, she never came back; and my lord himself sear ched Lady Mosehill's trunks, before her things were seat to Milberry after her. Then we heard my lord at the same time had written as account of the whole affair to Lord kfotwhill, who did not write a reply, but same himself to my lord; and there was a terrible scene. oLord Moss/till refused, at first, to believe Lis wife's guilt; and I was sent fordo the library, where my lord and he were to hear my testimony. I had rejoiced in my deed till that moment, 'when I raw that stroug man, the noble gentleman, the great states man, the loving husband,—for even Lord Mosshill's enemies gave him that credit-- bowed with that great grief; my heart relen ted, and I burst into a fit of violent tears. "Lord Cornberry desired I would tell Lord Mosshill all I knew. For some min utes I could not speak for my sobs; but Lord Mossbill came to me, and, poor servant girl though I was, and the cause of great sorrow to him, and abjured me solemnly, as I cared for peace here or hereafter, to tell the truth. I felt as if I were on my trial for life or death. Somehow, all my acorn for rank deserted me, and I told the whole from first to last, concealing nothing, not even my curiosity and wrong behavior in looking into Lady Mosshill's valise. When I had concluded, my Lord swore Inc to the truth of my statement on the Holy Bible. And I was dismissed, sorrowful and repen tant enough. Ido not mean that I should have concealed the truth out of regard to Lady Mosshill's rank and station, but I cer tainly was overstepping and only gtatifjing my revenge, to expose the lady to strangers by the violent manner in which I stated the truth. "What happened afterwards Mdlle. The rese and Miss Dormer told me. Lord Moss hill when, indeed convinced of the truth, im plored my lord to hush the matter up. His family was one of the oldest in England, and I have always heard one of the proudest. The blow of such a discovery went nigh to break Lord Mosshill's heart. He, however, firmly did his duty. He broke open the drawers, jewel cases, one private repositor ies of his Countess, and found all Lady Corn berry's missing jewels. They were returned, vrittian epistle to my lady herself, that Miss Dormer said would have touched the heart of a tigress to show mercy. But for her bo som-friend my lady had none; she said mat ters had gone too far to be concealed—that my lord, in his first wrath, had sent for his solicitor, and revealed all! At the same time Lord Mosshill received my lord's let ter, he received one also from the lawyer, demanding restitution of the stolen jewels. "Whoever set the matter afloat, this is certain; the day after the discovery, the whole affair was in the newspapers; and it cost Lord Mosshill large sums to suppress all further appearance of the matter in the journals of the day, But by that time the matter was quite notorious enough in high circles: and Lord Mosshill received an inti mation from the very highest quarter that his lady had better travel. That is the po lite mode of banishment now-a-days, I be lieve; and to travel, Lord and Lady Moss bill were forced. "I lived long enough in my lady's service to know the end of this strange story; and when the end came, considering the share I had taken in it, I was, I assure you, by no means a happier woman for the knowledge. About five years after her banishment from the British Court, Lady Mosshill returned. My lady and her daughters one night were proceeding in their carriage to a splendii fete at.—Palace. Some stoppage occured in Piccadilly, and my lady, to beguile the time was looking about her. Suddenly her eyes fell on a lady, who' sitting on a balco ny, half concealed by flowering plants, was watching sadly the gay cavalcade of splen did equipages. The eyes of the ladies met. My lady uttered a slight shriek, and sank back in her carriage; the lady in the bal cony fainted dead away, She was taken thence to her bed, from wh'eh she never more rose "Shame—remorse—humiliation—death its elf punished the crime of Lady Mosshilt; a crime aggravated by her attempt to cast it on poor servants. For her, pity, I think, would be useless and foolish; though as I have said, my share in her detection gave me trouble enough—especially when I hoard of her death. But for the disgrace inflicted on those who never before knew shame—for the injuries inflicted on innoccent sufferers —I can only say she scarce deserves for giveness; but I find it hard still (especially now years have made me a sadder, wiser woman) to forgive myself!" - Change for a Hundred Sr Arawrr FONBLANQUS. It was market day in a great noisy man facturing town not many thousand miles re moved from Lancashire, and the confines of that neighboring county so celebrated for the "euteness" of its inhabiti.nts. The railway had brought in thousands of people that morning, from all parts of the adjacent country, most for business, some for plea sure, some for a convenient mixture of both Men came in to make money, and made it or not according to circumstances; their wives and daughters came in to spend mo ney, and found no difficulty in accomplish ing their object; other people came in for other purposes (as will appear before the conclusion of this faithful narrative,) and were equally successful in car. ying them out. In the Exchange, merchants and cotton spinners. and brokers and agents thronged together,• and were as busy as bees in a hive. What were they doing! Ah! that I cannot say, Hundreds of thousands of pounds, I am told, change owners on market day in this same Exchange, without a scrap of writing, or earnest to bind the bargain. Who can tell what great transactions were being clenched? Perhaps some one, was $/,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE. buying up all the cotton in Liverpool; per haps the money was being found for some invention that will provide broadcloth at sixpence a yard; perhaps that vulgar look ing old fellow, to whom all are touching their bats, on account of his reputed wealth, is buying what he knows very well be will never be able to pay for; and who knows but that those sanctified individuals in white neck cloths are contracting for a supply of thread bearing a lie upon its la bel, in order to cheat the poor seamstress of her duel Such things are done, we know, thanks to that much villified tribunal—Her Majesty's High Court of Chancery. But we have little to do with the Exchange and those who frequent it. This great town —which is to be nameless, for certain suf ficient reasons—goes to dinner at 2 o'clock, eats a great deal of cola meat, and drinks a great deal of hot wine; and being a town of inferior organization, gastronomically speaking, is not afflicted with those fright. ful consequences from which any other town of more fashionable and dyspeptic habits would suffer. Consequently, for about one hour after the time I have named, there is a lull in the transaction of business and whilst the bees are on their return to their work, much shopping takes place. The principal jewelers in this nameless town are Messrs. Elephant & Castle, and a goodly sight their shop windows afford upon market day, especially when the old year is at its gasp, ann all the "pretty-pretties" for new year gifts are exhibited in glittering rows therein. So thinks an elderly gentle man from the country, a clergyman of the Church of England evidently, from his spot less white neckcloth, snug chin, and the heavy gold seals that hung, snore saajorstm, after the fashion of our ancestors, from his fob. There is a well-to-do creaking in his carefully polished boots, and a smile upon his ruddy cheeks that bodes well, he is al together the sort of person at whose table you would like to have a place, and in whose will you would have no objection to find your name. Mr. Elephant (Castle, his partner, is at home) has a high respect for the cloth, so he hews profoundly to the clergyman as he enters, and his reverence, who is urbanity itself, bows to Mr. Elephant in return.— The jeweller is charmed. Politeness is not a stable commodity in this nameless town. Great is its wealth; but the magic "tup pence a week," which in some other quar ters is devoted to the acquisition of manners has been but sparingly expended by the parents of the present generation of its denizens. Mr. Elephat knows a gentleman when he sees one; and sending his young man to wait upon some other customer, at tends to the stranger himself. The simple-minded pastor at once states his errand. Thursday is New Year's Day, and Mrs. Dalcimer must have her accus tomed present. What shall it be? Some thing useful, you know, and not very ex pensive, not more than thirty or perhaps forty pounds. It is pleasing, to hear the good man speak of money! It is clear that he prizes it only as the means of giving pleasure to others. Many valuable trinkets are exhibited for selection; but are rejected with a corres ponding number of smiles by Mr. Dalcimer as "trifles." At last a very solid gold watch with chain and pendants, heavy and plain, fit for the wife of a bishop, is produced and approved. Fifty pounds is the price, and whilst Mr. Elephant's young man is find ing a case wherein to pack it, the Rev. Blank Dalcimer takes from his pocket a fat black pocket-book, and from its interior a bank note for one hundred pounds. lie was just such a man as you would expect to have such a pocket-book, and such a picket-book would not have been complete without such a large crisp bank note in it. There are some people whose very tooth picks proclaims their respectability. The Rev. Blank Dalcimer was very sorry he must trouble Mr. Elephant for change— Mr. Elephant would be only too happy to oblige him. Mr. Elephant could easily oblige him upon market-day. The respect able pocket book, With pounds in small notes in it, is placed in one ample pocket, the new watch, in shining morocco case, is carefully deposited in another, and the rev erend purchaser is leaving the shop politely as be entered it, when a young man dressed in the extreme of fashion—so far in the ex treme as to be in danger of tumbling over the other side into the abyss of vulgarism, bustles rudely in, and runs against his rev erence. The good man is not angry, only hurt; stooping to pick hie hat which had been dis placed in the shock, he furtively rubs his damaged chin, and upon recovering himself recognizes the youth who caused the mis chief. "Why, bless my heart, l'raulr, what brings you here?" "Oh I've come to buy something for So. phy, sir; but I hope I have not hurt you?" "No, not much; but you should not be so impetuous. Are you returning by the four. fifteen train?" "Yee, sir, I think so?" replied the youth. "Then we may as well travel together. I want to speak to you about the shooting over the glebe lands, so buy your baubles, my dear boy—buy your baubles—at once." The dear boy lost no time, he selected a diamond and opal necklet. brooch, and bracelet to match; value fifty pounds, net eash--,Sophy was a lucky girl—offered a [WHOLE NUMBER 1,610. hundred pound note in payment and de manded change—not u his reverend ac quaintance had done as a matter of favor; but as his right. "There! change that, he said, and flung his note on the counter." Now it seemed to good Mr. Elephant, that there could be no possibility of danger in changing a note even for so unusual an amount, when presented by a gentleman cf Mr. Dalcimer's appearance and manner— Mr. Daleimert—why he might be an Arck• bishop. But this young Rapid with his hands thrust in his pockets of his peg-top trowsers, with his ballet•dancer pin, and his birds•eye scarf, chewing a toothpick, with his hat cocked, was a different sort of cus tomer. Ere could not be a bad character himself—oh no! did not the divine call him "Frank," and would he frank any but re spectable people? But young men will be young men, and sometimes keep very bad company. lie might have been imposed upon himself. So, the exohange being near at hand, Mr. Elephant dispatched young Rapid's note to the master of that place to be scrutinized, pretending, all the time, that he was sending it out to be changed. The messenger returned and whispered to his employer that the report was that the note was a perfectly good ono, and he rather ashamed of himself for having kept his worthy customer waiting whilst he indulged in such unworthy suspicions—hastily changed the defaced note, and having handed the difference ant Sophy's "baubles" to Rapid. was bowing his customers out, when—oh that this pen should have to record itt—a policeman, breathless with haste and ex citement, dashed into the shop and seized the reverend gentleman and his lively young friend by their collars, and I am sorry to add that the respectability of the former dropped from him like a cloak and he stood trembling, the very picture of a detected swindler. "W—w—w—what's the meaning of this?" gasped poor M. Elephant. 'Why, that you have two of the most no orious forgers in England in your shop— that's all," replied the man in blue; procee ding to handcuff his prisoners. "Have you changed any notes for them?" "Y--y—yea t—two of a hundred apiece." "They are forgeries then, the cleverest.— Here, give them to me." Mr. Elephant obeyed mechanically. "I shall have to pro - - duce them at the police office to make the charge—Hil cab," and the constable, having secured the derbies on his captives, thrust them into the cab, and having told the still confused jeweller to come along as quick AS . he could "to swear agin them"—drove off— where? Echo makes the usual response. For never from that moment has Mr. Elephaht set his gaze upon either of hie customers; the pretended policeman who took them into custody; the cabman who drove them away; the watch; the jewelry; the change, or the perfectly good Bank of England notes fir one hundred pounds a•piece, with which their ingenious fraud was commited. BLONDIN NOWHERE—OUTDONE DT AN ED ITOR!—The local of the Cleveland Democrat takes off the account of Mons. Blondin's "rope walk" over Niagara, in the following rich style. Those who have read the par ticulars in the papers will appreciate in On the morning of the Fourth, the local editor of a prominent evening daily paper in Buffalo, accomplished a feat which places Mons. Blondin's tight rope act at Niagara quite in the shade. Re crossed Main street, the principal street in Buffalo, on a cross walk without stepping off. When it is known that the aforsaid local had been em ployed in seeing the old Fourth of July out and the new Fourth of July in, some idea may be formed of the, magnitude of the undertaking. The cross-walk chosen for this daring feat leads from Thomas' Saloon to the Terrapin Lunch. The side walks on each side of Main street were crowded with spectators, by far the greater number being on the side on which the Terrapin is located, they being sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust in his ability to perform it, and his willingness to treat when he got over. Numerous Star-Spang led Banners were flying in the air, and numerous bands were playing the air of the Star Spangled Banner, while a Cali thumpian band were putting on airs gener orally. About 8 o'clock the local emerged, from Thomas' Saloon, and was greeted with immense ipplause by the crowd on the other side, who were impatient to bare him ems across and treat. It was really a treat to come across such enthusiastic fellows. Before attempting to cross, he performed numerous wonderful feats, such as telling the time of slay, walking a crack in the side-walk, seeing a hole through a ladder. &a. The cross-walk was about thirty feet in length—and, in order to make it steady. he had about thirty glasses of buck beer as guys, thus aftording one guy to esah foot. without mentioning the "gays" on the op posite side-walk, who were standing by is expectation of a drink. Like many other performers be was dreised in tights— baring been tight for two weeks before, in preparation forhis feat. Only once did he betray the slightest ir resolution, and that was when his eagle eye took in the immense concourse on the other side waiting for him to treat. Scorning a balance pole, he steadied himself • moment againet a lamp post, and then. amid die breathless attention of the spectators, bum
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