~E14),111141,2 3 :1 r %-\:)7 SAXII.I.I. WRIGHT, Editor and. Proprietor. VOLUME XXXI, NUMBER 34.1 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MOItMNG Office in Carpet Hall, Nurth-westeorner of Front and Locust streets. Terms of Subscription Doe Copyperanruni.if paidin advance. •• • if not paid within three inontiisfrom emmineneemeniofthe year, 2 00 91. C/cmtas a I:z.c..x - sr. Not übaeription r c eel ved torn I cal. time than SIX ieloatlts; andao paper will lie di-eoutinued until all arrearugebarcpuid,unic.eat the optional' the pith- trj.leitteyttia c•C itterlb yinni I u .1 1 1 u sr s risk. Bates of Advertising. antler t[Gi ines]one week, • three weeks. euch4ubsetinentiertion, 10 [l2:ines]oneweek, 50 three weeks, t 00 't eneli4uhsequenna=ertioll. Largend vertisernent-in proportion Althertalistouniwilibe'nude to quo, terly,holf earlyorvearly tdverlisersmh 0 are -11'10{)conitile 4l o their business. DR. 7i().l7pEit, IrIitIiTIST,.43FFICE4 Front Street 4th door _ Lo r from ',west. over Saylor Sr- McDonald's Gook store Colambot, Pa. 11_7`Eatranee, same a. Jolley'. Pho tograph Gallery. (August 21, 1‘.3.1. THOMAS WELSH. JUSTICE OF TUE PEACE, Columbia, Pa. OFFICE, in Whippers New I:Wilding, Lelow Idltteles Hotel, Front street. , F . r p o;spt attention give], to all loitinpcs rntruste4 to Wic Novernber H. M. NORTH, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT L Ily Columbia ,Pu. Collections vomptly matte ,i uLaueogte and York 3ounitea. Colimiltitt.May4,lSso. J. W. FISILER, Attorney and Counsellor at Law, tOcal-I.23ll=cii.fi, Colombut September 7 S. Atlee Boekius, D. ff. S. PRACTICES the Operative, Surgical and Median kill Departments ofltentiiitry; OFFICE Locu.tArect, ',owe= he Ft,titLlia Ron-c and llevi Office, Columbia, Pa Nay 7. tss9. Harrison's Conmbian Ink O[llllEll is o. superior article, permanently black, and not corroding the pen, eon be had in alo onntity. al the Family Medirine :11ore, and hi:lo.er yet ot that English Boot Poltsh. Columbia. Jaw, 9.1859 We Have Just Received DR. CUTTER'S Improved Chest Expanding Sutipettder and Shoulder Braces for Gentlemen. and Patent skirt Supporter and Renee for Lathe., !no the article that et wanted nt thta time, Coyne rind •ee them at Family Nletheine Stole. Odd reilowid April 9, itla9 Prof. Gardner's Soap have the New Enu hand Soup fur thmte who tlie obtain it from the Soup alum it t. pie:want to the -.km, tun! tea/ take grew-e •pot front Wooten 'Good+, it in theretore no bulWoo.z. for you g e t Ili, worth of your money tit the (rums y Sletlicane Stole Cottonton. June 11,1,59. RIIIAM, or, Bond's Boson Crackers; for is t a.l A (tow Rtfut I,l,trikee at• trawl ./ taco-Bw, , aIIICICS w Column/Oa, at thr Fdloily Store. April RI, ISPALDING'S PRI:PARED GLUE.-.The wont of ...th .i, iricie I. 1 , •.1 /El • Vi•r , , f. t nil , . ond now It C4l/ .1•• - 0,,,,ted . for up 14.10 L ; in II LIC• 1 . 11111.1. Wi11e.0.11 , 1 1 , II ii 4, , , ~.I. .k l• , I L.,. • ~ !lolly Ilg -: ciut in it - 1,11.111:4 In 1.1, 0... C. inuil.k.• Von XII, ',llea .1.. • t 1, 1,1 i L. Jan U at lie 7:1,0:111eL 121=1 IRON a:L.w 5'NX,73:"..! fPIIE Rub,' kb , .1. Stud. .I( BAR IRON AND ! They are constantly t.iruu led •toeh 1111111. 61 . 111111 of his tio.iness. and C.1111 . 11.06}) 11 10 CU. toners 112 large or smolt quantities, at the lon est rat, J SWIMS: & SON. Locust street below S'etiolid, Columbia. Pa. April 20, lefin, ITTER'S Compound Syrup of 11- and. Lu Wild Cherry, for Cough.. Uo!d,, &e. F. I :ale he Golden Mortar DruOtore, Front st . luly9. Compound Concentrated EN tract A Sarsaparilla for the sure of Serotala Eata's Evil. and oil scrofulous offectlons, u frt:A atL.:lejutt received and for sale I.y R. WILLIAMS, Front st Colombia, sept. 24, 1859, FOR SALE. 2no GROSS Friction %Jambes, very tow for cash. v .Tone It. tV11.1.1 MOS Dutch Herring! A Ny one fond of u good 11erung t un FalprAiPtl r EITERI.II.:IN'S Grocery sl.ore, No. 71 Loctrn.st. Nor. ]n. 1859 LYON'S PURR 0910 CATAWBA BRANDY .1111.1 PURE eepeetally for Medmilicy , lid Sacramental purpoge., nt the ? 1t%111.1 111FIDIC1NRSTOSIE. NUT RAISINS for S cts. per pound, are to be had only at 11/IEI2I,EIN'S Grocery Store., March 10, 1,40. No. 7t LOCUM Greet. GARDEN SEEDS.--Fresh Garden Seeds, war ranted pore, or all k.eda. jtt.l feeeived at ELERGEIN'S Grocery Score, Mnrch 10.1%0. No bosu.t.lmel POCKET BOOKS AND PURSES. ALARGE lot of Floc and Common Pooket Books and Purse, at from IA cont. to two dollar. coelt Ile edquorter4 and News Depot Columbia, April 14.1 :GO, A BEW more of those beautiful Prints kit, which will he old cheap, nt SAY LOR & April 14. Colman:a. PA. Just Received and For Sale 1500 sAas Ground Alum Gait, in large Gf tmugq..l4l/11,t1e.1, ui A PPOLTri: May:WGO. Warehowe. Cunal P.OLD CREAM OF GLYCERINF.-- For the tun and prevention fo Cll/I npral hand.. &c. For sal, pi the GOLDEN MORTAR DRUG STORE. Ike 3,1849. Front .ttreet. Columbia. Turkish Prunes! FOR a first rate urtieleof Prunes you mug go to 23. Ettf:Rl_ SIN'S Grocery C. , ; turc, No 71 Locun at N0v.19, 19a9 GOLD PENS, GOI.D PENS TINT received a large :and fine ii..ortment of Gold AJ Pen,. of Newton hod iffrivwoliN innlllll - 14ClUre, at SAILOR & 111r1lONALII'S Book Slate. grit 14 l'ront lit rem'. ober", Locu.t. FRESH. GROCERIES. • 11" r E continue to wrli the lost "Levy*" Syrup, %%Mite and Brown , Shear...cowl Coffee• and c home Teas. to be 'hall to COlllllOlll nt the New Corner Store. op• pantie Otis Fellows' Ilull, and at the old wijout ,trig the • ' llk.ll. C. EON • Segars, Tobacco, &c. ALOT of Yuan. Tobacco and Point( trill be found at the norr of the o.uboo•criber. Ile keep. only a fact rote article Csil P. F. EBERI.F.IN'S Grocery Store. 0ct.6.13 Locust at., Columbia, Pa. • CRANBERRIES, New Citrate. al Oct. :RI, I 4GII. A. RAMBO'S. SARDLNE, Wt . " . .rier.hire Suuee. Refined r7oene. arr.. iint re eeived tied tor ',lle by S. I- 1 7 .10 7 . 1 11• M Oct :!e. ItGil, No 71 I,err-t St. CUANBEIZALES. IVST received it fre.ll lot of Cranbcrries and Newr 0 Currant...tit No. C 1 1.0...,1•1 , 4treet. r urn:chid:v. glinting. Through the Snow Mrq. Tubbs—fifty, fat and frosty, dressed in black satin and flowery cap—comes from her housekeeping:room (where she has been consulting Betty, her cook) into the study of Mr. Tubbs, her husband, who, up later than his amiable spouse, breakfasts leisure ly, and reads lii3 letters grimly, on this snowy Christmas morning. Ho is by nu means a prepossessing-looking gentleman, though his coat is superfine and his waist coat large. EMI *0 34 "I've ordered Betty," says Mrs. Tubbs , sinking into a chair, "to make the fellow a small suet dumpling—no plums or currants in it, Dr. Tubbs; and send it in with a rasher of bacon. The fat bacon, Dr. Tubbs; the ham-like lean I keep for the parlor; for if ushers will stop during the holidays where they ain't wanted, they must take the con sequences." "Of course, my dear," answers Tubbs, pompously, and at the same time winking terribly (fur ho has a visional defect which always keeps his eyelids moving ) "Your remark is most judicious. Indeed, if the truth be spoken, even this prudential ar rangement will be unnecessary; fur I think of giving Gray notice sit once, and getting rid of him this very morning. For—for for—this getting on rapid system of his will never do. If it continues, Mrs. Tubbs, we shall soon cease to be master and mistress of Goshen House; fur here's a letter from the Baileys' father, praising his boys' rapid progress in arithmetic. Hero another from Wigget's uncle, to say that Tom's general advance is excellent; and to crown all, here's a third letter, from the Rev. Dr. Pike, canon of Diddlebury Cathedral, to say that his grandsons' progress in the classics is re markable, (you'll remember, my dear, that there are four of these ladsl) and that they have learnt as much Greek and Latin in the half as at some schools they would have done in three years. Mind this, my dear: Now of course boys getting along on this way will soon leave. Instead of ha. ing six years out of 'em apiece, two will be enough under such a forcing plan, There were, the Fieldings, too; why did they leave? Why, that they could draw trees well whin they should have been still in lines and cubes.— I've told Gray of all this, times and often; but, but," adds Dr. Tubbs, with pathetic dignity, "he minds me nu more than those boys who call sue 'Old Winker.' Ile talks about 'moral. honesty' and trash of that sort, instead of paying attention to my behests. as this is toe ease—and i! don't Jo to let e location get on like a steam engine dismiss nun, aial—and—this scry .1:11g. Tr ‘2, I in VC some equiva ,• , , ,ar er,o Lit was a mantis's no t , • .•i• •: .I[l3 goal's WEI lodgiuz tvtuter vaeattuu. But better u lust puuud than his evil should make further head." "A pound: We bhall save double that in the fellow's board, Why: it wants yet five weeks to the end of the vacation, and this— soy at ten sbiilings a week—will be two pounds ten. Go and do it at once, Dr. Tubbs, whilst I dress fur church. Arad make, haste; we can then drive off, and be spared the nonsense of 'good-byes.' On my way up stairs, doctor, I shall counter mand the suet dumpling." Not without some little hesitation when his wife's eye is on him—for his conscience, seared as it is, points how base his conduct is to one like Robert Gray—Dr. Tubbs draws certain sovereigns and shillings from his private drawer, and goes forth to the school room, where, by a most economical scrap of fire, sits the gentlemanly usher.— His slippered feet are on the hub, a little pocket ...:Eschylus in his hand, a short pipe in his mouth; behind him lies the wide, high school room, beyond that the bare windows and the snowy Yorkshire landscape of wooded heights and barren moors. "l'aughl smoke—smelling like a tavern!" are Dr. Tubbs' introductory words, and I then, taking a distant chair, he proceeds to business. It is soon effected—as most things arc—and to his infinite but secret chagrin; fOr he expected demnr and entreaty. His usher's manner expresses n sense of relief and release. True, were the pompous pedagogue a reader of human hearts, he might have detected ono vibration of defie r' late despair cross the clear, bright, manly eye when the first words of dismissal came; but it is gone like an electric flash, and he sees nothing before him but the serenity of self-reliant manhood. Hurrying over his gruff adieu, pocketing his receipt, and basely oblivious of all Gray's noble efforts to in crease his school, which, when he came a year ago was sinking to the verge of ruin, the pompous and shallow pedagnge makes his exit to go to church—a hollow conven• alist, not t sincere worshipper. Resolute and brief as young men are, Gray gathers up his few books from off the school room shelves, hastens up stairs, packs his portmanteau, and directs it to the near est railway station, puts the rest of his things in a knapsack; and then going down stairs he scatters a few shillings amongst the servants, visits the old yard dog in his kennel, gives one look around the play ground where he has passed so many sad and weary hours, and then goes bis way, his knapsack on his shoulder, a good oaken stick in his hand. There are some worthy souls to speak to iu this primitive Yorkshire "NO ENTERTAIMIENT IS SO CIIEAP AS "READING, NOB, ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, MARCH 3, IS6I. village—the parish clerk, the cobler, the carrier; then he hurries onward with a brisk step towards the moors, which lie so high and far away: they must be crossed to reach the railway by which he intended to go. Turning by-and-by out of the highway, lie proceeds down a lane with high banks and hedge rows on either side. It lies deep in snow, though traversed by recent wheels, and winds away pre.lently towards wood land and river ceenei y of r;:quiGite beauty —though wreathed and crisped by frost. Here is a cottage, old fashioned and substantial, an exquisite garden around it, and clothed with a glowing pyracanthus.— The berries are massed in coronals; the leaves lie around in hods of richest green. But the windows—at least towards the lane —aro shuttered; no one seems keeping Christmas within. But as Robert Gray leans upon the paling looking towards a little window that now is bowery with scarlet and green—in summer with the myriad waxen trumpets of the ypilow jasmine —a Win duds by and f on d l e s his hat. "IC yer a wrintin,r, Mr. Watson, sir," lie says, "you vro'nt find him at home to-day. Hint and ruissis be Anne to , ee their young est son. Old Tab the maid's minding the house; but she's op stairs dressing I dussay now." "IVell, Mr. Watson deservel a holiday. Gone for long?" '•Nro; I reckon they'll be home to-morrow. Miss Marianna, the daughter, ain't n•i"em. She's gone to Master Fielding's, across the moors, to keep holiday wi' the children. She's a particular favorite there a sort o' cousin to tte missis! So saying, [fudge again touches his hat, and proceeds. When the honest fellow is out of sight, Gray opens the gate gently, and steals in. Then from the before mentioned l owery window he cuts a spray of pyracanthus with his pocket kn;fe, and coming forth again, hurries away like one guilty of a serious sin. When he is far out of sight of the cot tage, on his path again to the highway, he looks at it long and tenderly, anti then open ing his knapsack, lays it within. This shall go with hint far and fur away; it grew about her bowery window—she whoni he has met once or twice in country homes—she whom he has spoken to a few times—she wham he has looked upon and loved. Like a man who has accomplished a mis• sion, he now walks steadily onward, regains the highway, and begins the ascent to the moors—to the lower ones, which die at the base of the higher and more remote. Deeper became the snow, wilder the scene, neither man nor bird nor beast giving life to the whitened waste. By-and-by he comes to a few solitary homesteads, and beyond these to a lonely grave yard, where the dead sleep eternally amidst the great hush of nature; he must pause a moment, for here lies a poor school boy who died of cold and facer. Gray nursed him, Gray loved him, Gray cannot turn away—perhaps forever—with out saying farewell to the insentient dust. As he diverges to the gate of entrance into this lonely burial ground, a middle aged gentleman comes towards it, from the rear of the small thatched church, and striv ing to undo the latch, cannot; his fingers may be cold. Ile may havo entered tile grace yard by some other path. For days, possibly, there has been no passer in. re this as it may, the gentleman cannot make egress. Gray hurries forward, and from his side undoes the latch. "Thank you," says the gentlemen, raising his hat, "a c mrtesy is always pleasant, even on a lonely Yorkshire moor. I thank ynn a happy Christmas—a good day." lie is a handsome, thoutditrul man or middle lire; his hair just touched with grey, his manner prompt, his words curt, like one whose dealings are many, with men and the world. L l erhaps he is n Yorkshire manufacturer— who knows? —many have fuctoriei4 in the hollows of these moors—rich, exAct, earnest men—gathering whole populations round them, and making steam their willing slave. When the stranger is out Of sight Gray passes in, bnd following the footsteps in the snow, they lead him to a simple gravestone at the rear of the church, off which the snow has been recently brushed; on it is recorded the death of two old persons—man and wife—who died some five years before. Their names were Fielding; their married life a long one, considering the years they lived. "1 thought as much." says Gray to him self. "That gentleman was Itlr. Fielding; —the rich spinner—and this the grave of his father and mother. 1 have heard that he was as noble a son as he is a noble father, husband, master and man. Yes: I thought there wis a likeness in his face to the boys that came to Tubbs', to be taught drawing half a year ago. flow often does the prosaic hide the depths of a poetic na ture! This is his visit to his parents grave, , on the anniversary of the death; and who knows of what worth such visitation and self-communion may be? The virtues of a year may be sown thus in a single hour!" Gray passes on to the schoolboy's solitary grace. No reverent feet have visited it—to reverent hands have scraped off the dazzling snow. The marks where the little red breasts have hopped across it are plainly visible, and yet it is ne.t solitary; the wind sings a dirge, the snow presses downily, and at night the moonlight sweeps over it and silvers it with glory. Under the arch of heaven no single thing but what bus some hymn sung to it--some tears wept over it by nature! The poor usher resumes his walk pres ently, for he has far to go. The cold is Le numbing, the snow deeper, yet Ile presses on, and he stops to find :Ismail flask in the pocket of his outer coat; from this he sips.n drop of brandy, (it holds but very little) and then plods um The day begins to fade-- the titstamte is yet cuusiderable--be grows anxious. • Al. length the moor dips downward into the valley, and beyond this is the higher, bleaker, lonelier moor, across which lies the station be wishes to reach; through the val ley sweeps a vast water power, and here stands the wondrous mill, in which daily work three thousand people, employed by John Fielding, the great cotton lord. But the mighty giant of spindle and mule sleeps to-day, the fires are low, and labor rests her hands! Some miles from the mill the mansion of the c,-tton lord stands embosomed in woods, and here at the foot of the fell is a cluster of cottaaes. Descending to one of these, he asks a wo man standing At n loor the nearest way to the opposite fell. "Why, cross the beck by the bridge, and take the road before thee. But eb, sir: it's a coating an a wild night - Tor the moors; and now I'm thinking, if you - go by Graystones —M.r. Fielding's park anent there—you'd find it more sheltered-like, and a bit nigher still. You can't" miss the way if ye keep this side the beck to the mill; then cross it, and a bit beyond get into the park by a stile; the path then take you by Gray. stone pool—a mighty piece of water, all frozen over now—and towards the end leads up the way to the moors. You can't miss it, though it's coining on a wild night, I fear." Gray hurries on, passes the mill, the mill hands' cottages—almost all of them tenant less to-day—find his way to the pool, and so to its furthest side nearest the moor• As he approaches the road leading thereto, ho sees n man dressed as a servant, standing on the bank as though attending three or fmr boys, who were skating up and down the pool. They are all of them fine, athletic lads, and Gray knows them to be his old drawing pupils, the Fie"'dings. Though he has no intention of approaching them, for they are skating some distance from where he has to tarn .sr, he cannot refrain from staying a moment to watch them. As he does so, a bell at the hall rings loud and clear; its echoes are taken up in the solemn moors, and re-echoed back again, "Gentlemen," calls the servant, "there is the first dinner table; you had better re turn now." They prepare as it seems to obey, by skating towards the shore; and Gray turns away, not willing to be recognized and de tained, fur he feels desolate and low in heart. Fur him no welcoming feast is spre.td, no ear listens for him, no eye ex pects him. Snow before him, snow behind him--a sad and solemn Christmas day to him! Yet the snows of winter hide the buds of spring, and out of oor sorrows our truest joys arc oftcncst born. Ire has turned his face and his steps •tway from the pool, towards the moor, when a crash, followed by awful crici, met his e.trs. Looking tontml, hurrying towards the pool, he sees that the tallest rmth, in skating, to ward 4 the shore, granrated dati,ger , mq ice; cracked, mini he fell through. Ho is now struggling in the water--Iris head above it, his hands battling with the ice; sthilst his brothers hastening to the rescue, seem in peril too, the poor demented servant coward, perhap4, by nature--,lands on the shore, wringing his han d s and shooting. At a 11 •c^n athletic hounds 'Gray has reached the s p.t. In another moment he has thrown off his coat, hat and knapsack. "Stephen! Walter! Falkland!" ho calls; "don't attempt that; I'll come to Harry's revene. Even whilst he speaks he dashes his way across the ice, goes through it, is in the tool; not a minute too soon—the lath is spent, and, benumbed with cold, is sink- "A brave heart, Harry—a band here— there, now my arm's around you—bear up. I'm Gray, your old drawing master."— MI ling the lad's head above water, swim ming dexterously, battling with the ice, in an anxious moment or two ho reaches the shore. II icing !mode I Gray's vr.troing, the other boys aro safe, .tuo, and nutv crowd round. "Harry is not much the worse, said Gray, kindly, as the spent and benumbed lad leans on him and begins to recover. "A near chance; but a drop of brandy, with a run home and a warm bath, will sot him all right. Walter, feel in my coat pocket, you'll find my brandy flask; it holds but a drop, but it'll do good." So saying, whoa the flask is found, Gray makes Harry take what it holds, and then hurries him off' home. "But you'll come, Gray?" say Stephen, who is the neat eldest to Starry, "pap% will never forgive us, if you don't come, after having saved us our dear Harry. We al ways liked you Gray, and were talking of you this very morning. Come on; you're dripping like a dog." "Thank you; I want to be at station by S o'clock to-night, and at Leeds to-mor row; so r can't. I have dry under-garments in my knapsack here, which I can change in that rudder shed yonder. Good-byo, I want to cross the moor before it is to Into "The nor, Gray! Why, you'll have a hard fight with the snow. Our shepherds report it as very deep. But why are you tied for a few hours?" “I have left Tubbs; I taught too fast for him; but if I reach Leeds by to-morrow I may get a tutorship; fur there was en ad• vertisement relating to one in the last paper So run home, Stephen; I'll write to yr,o thence.” Gray does not stay for any reply; but, seizing his coat and knapsack. hurries to the distant shod; here he changes his shoes and nether garments, and to get warm, sets off on a run, as noon na he has dressed and swung his knapsack on. Up the snowy road, by the moorland crags, on to the moor itself—a wide, wild waste of whitened des olation. Yet. some traffic through the day marks the road sufficiently for it to be easy to find whilst light lasts and the snow holds off; so he keeps on at a rapid pace, fur the whole distance now to traverse is hut some siz miles, and he is not without hope that it' will be easily effected. But presently the I snow drifts get deeper, and baffle him more I and more at every step. The clouds charged with snow bring day suddenly to a close; and at last it begins to snow henvily, as' though the clouds had burst. Still he keeps I his way, not without hope. lint when the road becomes more and more indistinct, when the snow comes down heavier and heavier still, when the rising wind whirls it round and round, when the cull beentnes < 0 intense as to benumb him, even whilst he is moving ho regrets his folly in having slighted the kindly invitation to Mr. Field ing's hou3e. But Gray is a proud man, he has had the birth and education of a gen tleman, and he cannot go fa wnirg anywhere uninvited tike a beggar. At last, hopeless of regaining the track. thoroughly spent, and growing drowsy, he sits down on a crag; the storm whirling round him and freezing his blood. Then he closes his eyes, lost in that dreamy entba nasia which precedes death from cold.— From this 6e is aroused by something warm' and wet touching his hand--something lying heavily on his knee. Reluctantly-- almost with difficulty—he asserts sufficient will and volition to open his eyes; and then he sees a shepherd's dog rests its paws'upon his knees and licks his hand.. At the same moment a loud halloa is heard. With still more difficulty than be has opened his eyes, be makes a faint reply, for he is con scious the rescue is at hand. It is scarcely uttered before a shepherd casts back .the blinding snow and stands beside him. "If you please, sir, yon must come with us. As soon as ho heard of the matter, Mr. Fielding sent me and another off, with a horse and the dogs, on the moor after you; for no one, he knew, could live out such a night." But Gray can only speak. So the shep herds assist; now coming up with the horse they place bun on it, give him some whisk). ! they have with them, and one mounting be hind, so as to hold the benumbed gentle ! man, the other leads the way back to amy -1 stones. But the way is hard to find, the B , IOW so blinds nod baffles them, so lies in monstrous drifts, and the cold so benumb ing; yet through this desolate waste they ! get at last, and by S &clack reach the. Tin - -re, in the wide porch, n wt.,le group of sympathizing friends welcome the poor gentleman. Ile cannot talk much, but be replies to the pressure of their worm and kindly words. "There, take my arm and loan on me," says the same gentleman to vrhota Gray opened the gate of the little, tronely buri..l croon t this very morn; "yo.l have twiee served me to-day, once in a manlier iris payable, so let me serve in turn," Tttua saying, Gray is led up stairs to a chamber, where a warm bath and dry clothes ittrnit him. Cherished and refrepited he lies down on a sofa, and has !loop rind wine and other restoratives. These taken ho sinks into a sleep. When he awakes it is 10 o'clock or more: yet ho finds Mr. ridding seated beside him. -God ever love and bless you, air," he says, taking Gray's hand; "fire to yeu I owe the life of my priceless boy. I can never repay you, for they have told me all --your bravery, your goodness—everything. But you must not leave ma, Mr. Gray, for n lung time. It was I who advertised in the last Leeds newspaper; fior my boys want e master, and you were the one I thought of, and should have liked; bat I did not know that you were leaving that mean, pompous, shallow hypocrite, Tubbs. Make your mind happy. sir; you have a home here; to-morrow we will talk of money affairs; but be sure, eveti when your office ends, you shall find me a sincere friend. Now, do you think you aro strung enough to come down and see the Christmas tree, cad Sir R , ger do Caverley danced? Mrs. Fieldidg and all my people want to thank you, too." Oh/ yes, he is strong enough; for shall he not see the pretty Marianna, the idol of his dreams. So they go down arm•in-arm together, and Mrs. Fielding and all the guests are earnest and warm in saying grateful and kindly words; and there is Marianna, a, little tremulous and timid; and still more so, when Gray gives bar off the Christmas : tree a small needle book, on which is finely wronght—"Love me and I'll lore thee." 11 Gray sits down beside one of the glowing fires, whikt they dance Sir roger d e 1-.4 $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; 82,00 IP NOT IN ADVANCE? ley. But bp-and-by she leaves the dance and sits down beside "dm. "I was so sorry fur you, Mr. Cray," she says, "thinking of you on the bleak moor." ''Were you? that is good news, Mari anna. Before I ascended the moor I had a long walk. I had been past a certain cottage, and cut off n spray of its ruddy pyracenthus; it is now up-stairs in my wallet. But lam going to stay hero as tutor. It is a piece of richw fortune than I thought of. particularly if rho ortft, who.e face I first saw beside those cottage window-panes, is glad." Sim does not answer, but lays her hand in his, (all the rest of the folks era mad, dancing Sir Boger) and looks up with tear dimmed eyes in his. So he came through the snow: for this and this; Le is no longer desolate, but -richly loved. By sorrows xre are baptized to holier duties and to beppier lives! The Soldier's Story I was rather disappointed, if the truth must he told—so indeed we were all at home —at my kinsman's scanty supply of words, when he returned to us from that grim Crimean campaign. As for the general story of the war, we did not want that from him, but what had personally befallen him; for we knew that, though it tens herd, indeed, to be pre emi nent in the di , eharge of duty or daring of danger amidst that flower a the world's sAlierhnod, he had Jwcn .. as riote• worthy, even among such. by those who had the best means of appreeiatiog his enurage and his industry, I have found ,tbis naah‘it, manly ailence touching personal exposure and achieve. ment, and almost invariable chattouristic of our noble Fighting men. M y reader n ill therefore kindly bear it in mind that the detailed and curious narrative I put under bi' eyes here is of my writing rather than of his telling, short as at is. But I have interwoven in it, so far as I know, nothing but authentic threads of recollection. I picked the matter fur the spinning of them bit by bit out of his conversation, as an old woman might pick out of a long hedgerow at great intervals, tvuoi enough to furnish NVlTiSted for her knitting needles to work op into a stocking or a pair of mitts. fie had been under fire continuously, fur I seven hours and more, on ono of the most hard-fought days of all that hard-fought struggle, and, as lie rode away at evening I towards the camp, rode bareheaded, in rev ; °rent acknowledgment to !leaven for the marvel that he was riding out of that hail of iron himself unhurt. I As for the unobserved incidents of that I day's danger, from. which a merciful pre servation had been vouchsafed, they would be hard to reckon; but upon three several occasions during those seven exposed hours, it really seemed that the messengers of i death avoided him, as in some legend they turn aside from the titan who bearsa charm ed life. There was a six pound shot, which he saw distinctly coming, as a cricketer eyes the pr‘tjectile which threatens his middle I wicket. It pitched right in front of him, land rose as a cricket-ball when the turf is parche , rand bake], bounding clean up into the air, and so pasiitig right over his un tonched head. It fell behind him, and he looked at it more than once that day, mid, hut for its inconvenient hit'k, thought of !carrying it away C.r u munamt 'Poore was a folly and twenty pound shot next, a of twin brother to that nhiub , sane three weeks before, had actually torn his forage cop f om oft his lien.); but it come L ao quick for sight. IL, VS"V3 tit that mo ment backing towards the shafts an mtt munition cart horse, whose reins he held ' clone i, its jaw, he spurred on his own to make it give way in the ri A lst dirzction.— Smash: came the great globe of iron, and as the bones and blood and brains bespatteaed him, he utmost fell forward; for the po brute was restive nu longer; headle , 9 horses don't strain vainst the bit, altlion4h 'tis just as hard as ever to back them into the shafts. Then there was a moment, one of those of direst confusion, of what other than such soldiers as fought that fight would hate reckoned a moment of diem iy—a moment wherein regimental order itself was in part broken andconfoited; the guardsmen mingled with linesmen, lineemen with blue coated • artillery. There had been fearful barns among those noble sorrants of the deep-voiced cannon, end men were wanted to hand out the shells from a CAT: be had himself brought up, re plenished, to a breastwork. fie called in some of the linesmen. Ono of them stood by hint foot to foot, almost or actually in contact. They wore handing ammunition from one to the other, as men do fire buckets when fires aro blazing in the street. Re leant in one direction to pass on the load ha had just taken from a soldier's hand; the soldier was bending towards the next man in the chain; a Russian shell cam:. bound ing with a whirr, then burst and scattered its deadly fragments with terrific force.-- One of its great iron shreds passed—there was just room for it—between his leg and the soldier's that stood next him. They looked each other in the face. "A near shave that, sir!" said the man. "Nearer than you think for, perhaps," he answered, for he had felt the rounder cur flee of the fraznient actually bruise him al ['WHOLE NUMBER 1,596. it passed, whereas its ragged edge bad shaven, with a marvelous neatness, front Lis trouser, part of the broad red stripe up-t, the outer seam. I venture to give these minute derails be cause they may help other civilians, tus they helpe I me, to 'Tealize," as they call it now a•days, more vividly the risk of n day of battle, and the large drafts they draw upon a man's fund of nerve and composure, just as he stands, without coming into any clo2e encounter. But nt last the firing was done; and, hareheaded, as I have said, ho turned and rude towards the camp. It was before the famine period there, and though there was no superfluity of food. there was f o od to be had, and after that n g day's fighting men were in sore need of it. It was dusk, and he was lighting ("candle to sit down to his meal, when tho voice of n French soldier called something like MI, name fr,ml tha outside. 110 was Ilia:soil a perfect master of that language, as the "S )1- .11A-do-train" who stood outside fjord to hie great rebel hi. Erst utterw.c., of in quiry. The Freneittnat.l rid In u'e by the and across the ere ttc rt.'s haPic Inv s.arnething, nh eh looked Itke t.arti•colare.l sack. The body t.f an offi - mr, strtnped bare all hot the tran , •rrs. the dark leg 4 hanging one way, the fair ..kilittcd naked shoulders nal aria the other, the face to wards the groom! "I was directed, min officlor, to bring this poor gentleman's corpse L 1 y•JLI. rimy Say you vcere 3. friend of his—his name is Cap coin X—w Even at that early stage of the campaign such shucks had lost the startling effect of novzity, nevertheless, there were few names among those of his friends and comrades which it could aback and grieve him mar.• to hear pronounced under such circum stances. Th.) light was fetched. Ire raised the poor body; then, with n sigh, let it omen more gently down. There was a small round hole in the very centre of the fere head, whereat the rifle ball bad darted into the brain of his hapless friend. lle called an orderly, and directed him to accompany the Frenchman in the dead man's tent. lie would Mattel(' soon follow and see to his receiving soldier's obsequies.— flis .veririness and exhaustion were such as to ronder it imperatively necessary that ho should first take his food, to which he re• turned, with what inerehsed weight at heart who shall rightly tell? It needs not that the tension of a man's nerves should have been strung tight by the hand of battle, for him to know, from his own experience, what is the strange and awful, and weird feeling of she first relaxation of them in the early after hours of responsibility, danger, or im portant crisis of decision. If apparitions and visions of things unearthly be indeed mere fictions or men's brains. such after hears are just those wherein the mind it readiest to yield to the power of illusion -- Illusion or reality more startling, more un accountable by Etr than it? Whether of the two was this? There entered at tho curtin of his tent the dead man, toward.; whom, in some few minutes more. he should have been showing the last Rad kindnesses. The light fell full and clear upon hie face. He took ofr his forage oup as he came in. The lirottd white forehead showed, no longer any trnoo of the murderous inera4lt of the ball which hod slain him. Into the p ior dull glaze I eyed the gleam had returned —could it indeed Itto the gleatn of returned life? O: .1 f ghost; gle.vri rifedi ke s "%chat ma..l; )..m send that Fron.eltinvi with my corpie to me? At I,tamr, rte ism!' inskt that it was mine?" "X------7 Gool twaven! Van it be indeed" Who should it I,e? What ails you, ma, Why do you stare at me scq" "I eanotos 'any what ails me; but I Rut surely antler somo strange delusion. It is nlt half an hour surely, einco I saw yon ettetche I lifeless neross a mule's back, with a rifle: bullet between your eyes. What can this mean? You are not even wounded." "Xa, thank God! nothing hu touched we for thie time; but that French roldier—dii you then semi him up, inde3dl" "Indeed I Hideous comico-trag;.: this ..li in the awful drama of wart They diec. , rered by and by that the slain brother soldier was 1., comr.tde of their own corps, bat a bravo offs• cer of another arm. Neither of them had known him personally, nor had they beard before that between him and X— emitted. in his life time, the moat remarkable and dose resemblance; such an identity of fv.‘- ture as is rarely Poen eare in twin brothers Mar Some "reedy" pact lota off toe follow ing iu regard to South Carolina: She may see seed, Then pro sea, But can't ~o, * -f€ed, ut.t r , ,eed. or .7pc-sad. T'111: MINISI LE AN b E COCZADE - A very conserrative and goni.cl minister this city, meeting one of hi 4 young friewli: ou thO btrtOt, 1V0L0.41 With route curius:h• upon wb.it istruelt him n, a 1,1 u,. nom .ut the hat of his friend, and iiiluired what it meant: "Sir," said the young blood, "ths:: is the bins cockade." "Cockade — eti..c.t , the minister, "cockade'." Myer, sir, i,1.1 cockade. That's nil right, ain't it. ' "Yes," said the minister, "nil right on the goose." The young ma:, out beim acne ..,inoo.—Luui.,te::c. Dcor. D
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers