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.amu.E.l. WIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXXI, NUMBER 46.3
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY XORN/NG
(Vice in Carpet Hall, _Vora-west corner of
Front and Locust streets.
Terms of Subscription.
Owe Copype ranruin.i f paldin
' if not paid within three
imontlisfrom eomuleacemenl oldie year, f! 00
it cop - sr.
F:o: uh.eriinion reed+ yeti torn Ie•" tune than six
month•; and no paper will be di -00111i111114/ 111111: all
afrearagevt re patd,aale.sut this optionoft he pub.
e. her. _
ICF - Moncymaybc,.e.rtittetlb ymai I au lirpublisb
cr s risk.
Rates of Advertising
scion r nes]oue week,
•• three week=
entehiale , equentlin , "crlion, 10
[l2 i ne.n]nue week 50
three week=. 1 00
tt each; uleunipten
Largeradvertkernent , t en proportion
Allberia 1 Ingenue) wil 'lee nude no wine ierly,balf•
early . orcearly ten verth,ers,erlio are striedi}eonfined
o their bu-iete....
DR. HOFFER,
DENTIST. ---OFFICE, Front Street 4th door
trom Locust. over So) lor &Donald's Honk .lore
Columbia. l'a. ID — Entrance, c-ome a• .1 Pho
tograph Gallery. [August 21, 1115 S.
THOMAS AV
DISTICE OF THE PEACE, Columbia, Pa.
OFFICE, in Wlapper's New Building, below
Pock's I Intel, Front -mem.
[ - Prompt altention given to all business entrusted
to In , core.
November 22, IE-.57.
H. N. NORTH,
A TTORNEY /IND COUNSELLOR AT LAW,
Colleenon, romptly mad e II Lane n.lci aad YorL
coteitue,
Columbia. May 4,1'450.
J. W. FISUP.,R,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
Cri11X333L7C3 , 51,1:1,
Columbia, :September u, ta.lb It
S. Atlee B cities, D. D. S.
DRAC'rICES the Operative, Surgical and Meehan
teal Department. of Donn-1r);
LOCU.I reel, between he Franklin llou , c
and Pc..4 Wiwi., Columbia, Pa
May 7. 1.59.
Harrison's Conmbian Ink
1)(711ICII zuperior perm:anemic black,
VT and not corroding the pen, (bit lie hail in not
dantity. at the T.:tore, alai blacker
yet to that Engli,ll Boot Poli-h.
Columbia. Juno 9.1,59
e Have Just Received
CUTTER'S Improved Chest Expanding
Mid Silolllllt`r BrHee, ibr Innoleninn,
and Patent Sista Suppolier and Itrnee for Lathe.,
3n.t the article that is wanted nt this lance Co9:e
and see them at Family Mediclice Sinn.. Chid re:loWs ,
[April 9,
Prof. Gardner's Soap
INTFI have the New Kligl.o Soup for tho=e who die
I' V not Obtain It from the Soap Man; it a- plott-nut
to the -Inn. and trill lake grey-e 'poi+ from lVoWell
(410,1+, It theretbre uo humbug'. tor you get thc
worth of your money to the Fatuity Aledtesue Store.
Columbia, June I t , 1 ..".19.
I"Rt or, Bond's Boston Crackers, for
Dy.„,„„tws, sum! Arrow nom Cracker-. for:in
vainls and artielee 111 Columbia, at
the Family Medicine Store,
=
SPALDING'S PREPARED GLUE.--The want of
such ail arnele fell in every family, and now
it ran be :applied: for 110 . 101.11 g fnmturr, 1•11111 a•
tell re. ornamental work, toy,. Are., there 1% 11011111114
LiTeritir. We have nnind a ti-eful m lep.urnig maw,
!rave been t , eles for month-. Von
Jan.lL-An It ut the
tasounA: FNIII.r AlEnrcisc sTort.E.
IRON AND STEEL !
(111 m; Sol,,nlwr• have reeeited it New• al d Large
..3toelc of zilllttwit eed of
11_1R IRON AND STEEL!
Thry are eou-tautly M rth ‘lnvls ip
of lip. Ilea Call 111111.41 It In Vll,olllor. ut large
Or saran 1/11,111111/e,, at the fats / .:41 tiara
.1 HUM & SON,
LOCII , I greet below Secuud, Columbia, I'u.
April 2-+.
I.?ITTEICS Compound syrup of 1•Ir and
ti Wild Cherry, fc,r Cough'. Cri!ii.,:kc. F. r
be Golden Alortar Drag:rdure, From [ July 2
A ER'S Compound Conrentralrd Extract,
A
tiar.mparilla tbr ILe rune of Scrolala I King'•
Evil. ...I all 4, :rollibuik :Iffection., n (NA Ju-t
reemvud aud for rule Icy
R. WILLIANIS, Front St I Columbia,
cep!. 01, I. ;0,
FOR SALE.
200 GROSS rrictio:t Matelte , .. very Invv tor en.ll.
R. WILLI:\ NIS
Dutch Herring!
ANY one fond of a good Herring t :La be kapplied at
S. F. MIERI.EI
Store. No. 71 Loeu.t Rt.
Nov. 19. 1-59
EMI
L"N'S PORE 01110 CATAWBA BRANDY
and PURE WINKS. e,pecially for 111cdoloes
lid Foler.onomul purpo.o=. at tho
Jn0.23. V-11111.1" AIIIDICINMSTOIZE.
NICE RAISINS for 8 cts. per pound, arc to
Lc bad only at
-
MIERIXIN'S Grocery Store,
No, 7l Lot upt street
March 10, li-00
GARDEN SEEDS.--Fresh Carden Seeds, war
ranted pure, of all 1..1.1%-pl4l rueetvell +Li
E111:1(1.EIN'r5 Irroeery Slum,
No :1 I,o•n-t 4ireet.
March 10.1E40.
POCKET BOOKS AND PURSES
A LA lot of Foie awl Cootoom l'orket Dool.‘
filld PUf at from 15 cent+ to two dollar.. each
Ih tdquarters and Ness- Depot.
Columbia, April 14. I 4,u.
EEW more of those, brantiful Prints
lett, wlttelt WIII be .111,1 eltenp, ut
SA Vl,Oll er. AIt:DONALD'S
Col a minn. l'a.
April
_II
Just Received and For Sale
1500 SACKS Ground Alum Salt, in largc
ur
APVO!.I)
WareliniJac.Catiail 13.-111.
14 I y::.,'60
COLD CREAM OF CLYCERINE.—For the core
Iliad preVeolifill In chopped 1.111,41 4 . &c. ror
at rl.e I:OLDI:N MORT.% It sTon
_Dec 3.15.51.. rroilt Colmrthia.
- . -
Turkish Prunes!
FOR a first rate ar ticle of prune. you inuq go to
S. P. FAIIIRLEIVS
NOV. 151.9. Grocery Store, :So 71 I.w:te4 ct
GOLD PENS; GOLD PENS.
Insrr revetved a large and fior .n•=orlsnmit of . Cold
l'en, of Newto n and (irt,sol,r+ :nanufacture, 01
SAYLOR de Alet/ONA LIES hook Story.
ftgril
Front , 1.0131.1.
FRESH GROCERIES.
m r F. rominue to .1.11:11.• Sy , up• Avi"c
"" 4 Cotrod , nod clot:cert.:l..
to be 'tad to Caluotion nt the Nen Conti" Store. op
pos.. 441. Fellow* 111.411, nod at the old .tend
11. C. lON DEILSAIITtI.
Segars, Tobacco, &c.
LOT of fir.,-rate Sega,. Tolute en and Snuff still
2 be (mood at the 140 re of line nth-c nLcr. lie In
only a (AO 1,14,94.
S. EIIERLEIN'S Grocery- Since.
/41.0.1. t a, C011.4111b1.1, Pa.
Oct 6;G
CRANBERRIES,
E r; Crop Prooe 4 , New C&I1011,
Ort Nita. A M LIAMII(vs.
SARDINES,
IV° rer•terslare : 4 4.1re. Refilled Coelia. Ar.. PM re
reseed u•sd .ur loy
tli 1.!.1, 1,01, 1.0,85-t
CRANBEIIRI ES.
CST orceiv...l ireq, N. rt v
Nu. 71 11,01.,,t..1 t•6lver.
0.1'21. 1,11. S 1:1.11:171.1 IN
gflutino,
The Lost Deeds
EEEM
A parting glance around the office, to as
sure himself all desks, closets and iron safes
are prorerly secured for the night, and the
solicitor's confidential clerk locks up and
prepares for home. With coat buttoned to
the throat:and hat drawn over his eyes,
Mark Edwards turns his steps towards home
and cheerfully faces the rough wind and
drizzling rain, which unmercifully pelt and
buffet him, as he vainly hails omnibus after
omnibus to receive the same answer—" Full."
But Mark makes no trouble of these out
door inconveniences, for his mind's eye is
fixed on the well-covered tea-table, bright
file, and, best of all, the pretty young wife
awaiting his return. The picture is so pleas
ant, that he cheerfully breaks forth into a
line of "Home, Sweet aline," as ho turns
the corner of the street where stands his
own trim little domicile.
E3lll
Mrs. Edwards is peering into the darkness
through the folds of the muslin curtains,
and has the door opened before Mark's hand
touches the knocker.
"What a night for you, love!" says the
little matron, brushing the rain drops from
his bushy whiskers, and kissing him com
passionately; "and how late you are!"
Edwards looks up at the clock as he strug
gles out of his dripping coat. "I am late
indeed," he answers: "but Mr. Pleadwell
has started on his trip to the lakes this af
ternoon, and there were a great many things
to attend to before he went. And look here
Fanny—this packet contains some valuable
deeds and securities, which will be called
for by the owner in a few days; in the mean
while I have to copy one of them, but don't
feel inclined to begin to-night. Where can
I place them in safety?,'
Fanny suggests his desk, but that is the
first article a burglar would lie likely to
meddle with. The wife's cheeks pale at the
idea of such a visitor, and she considers.—
"That old secretoire in the spare bedroom,
will not that do?"
Mark hesitates. "I had so many injunc
tions to be careful, and not let them go out
of my possession, that lam afraid of even
that."
Fanny reminds him that there is a secret
drawer in it. "llJn't you remember," she
asks, "what trouble we had to find it?"
"Hal the very place!" So his wife car
ries the candle fur him, and the valuable
packet is deposited in this hidden receptacle.
Its only contents are a few highly scented
letters, tied together with a piece of ribbon
to which Fanny, laughing and blushing,
confesses they are Mr. Mark Edwards' love
effusions before marriage, carefully pre
served to bear witness against bins when he
comes cold and cross.
Perhaps it was a restless night and un
pleasant dreams which made the clerk so
uneasy—even in the hurry of the nest day's
work—knowing that he had not visited the
escritiore before leaving home in the morn
ing to ascertain with his own eyes the safety
of the papers in his charge. He pooh-poohs
the idea as it presents itself, remembering
one key is in his own possession, and the
other on his wife's housekeeping bunch; but
it returns so often, that it is with a feeling
of relief that he hears the signal for closing
and feels he is at liberty to return home.
How is it his welcome is not such a smil
ing, ono as it usually is? Fanny's spirits
seem depressed, and her eyes look as if they
had beets clouded with tears.
"Have you had any visitors to-day?" her
husband eareleisly inquires as he sips his
tea.
The hesitating "No" is so faintly pro
nounced that the young man, hitherto pre
occupied with business, looks up.
"That 'Nu' sounded like 'Yes!' Who has
been here?"
"Only my brother George." Fanny an
swers in a low voice, and Mark, frowning,
turns away and takes up a book.
"My brother George" is his aversion, and
the torment and trouble of his wife's family,
always in difficulty, no sooner rescued from
one scrape than rushing headlong into
another; sometimes invisible fur months,
and suddenly reappearing to levy contribu
tions on any relatives able or willing to as
sist him. Mark has seriously contemplated
forbidding his visits; but then Fanny is so
tender-hearted, and cherishes such a kindly
belief in the prodicars ultimate reformation
that her husband has not yet mustered sail
cient firmness to enforce his wishes, although -
Ile knows where his wife's brooch went, and
why she wears that old velvet bonnet. Fan
ny seems to guess what is passing in his
mind, by her coming so softly to his side,
and, stroking his hair, and pressing her lips
to his forehead, but neither of them say
anything, and Mark leisurely prepares for
his task of copying. While he has gone up
stairs to fetch his papers, she lights an ex
tra candle, and enscousees herself in a cor
ner with her work-table, regretting as she
does so that her "poor boy" must be bored
so with this odious writing when he ought
to be restinz. However, Mark soon comes
down the stairs, three a time, to nsk,
rather angrily, why she has moved his
packet without mentioning it. With aston
ishment in her looks, his ,vile denies having
done so, and hurries with him to the spare
bedroom, asserting her belief that he has
overlooked the parcel. Not a thing is out
of its place. The old escritoire stands 'ex
actly as they left it, the luck hal not been
"NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SQ CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING. JUNE 15, I
tampered with, nor was the secret draw4r
open; and there, undisturbed, lie the love
letters; but the small Lrown paper parcel,
tied with pink tape, and sealed with the of
fice seal, is gone!
The husband suspecting, he knows not
what, looks almost sternly at his wife, whose
answering glance is confused and full of ter
ror.
"Tell me the truth, Fanny, my dear Fan
ny! Are you playing a trick to tease me?
Remember, if I cannot produce these papers
I am a ruit.ed man? It would he worse
than the loss of money; TILT I might re
place, these I cannot. Tell me at once
where they are."
"Indeed Mark, I know no more akout
them than you do yourself. They must be
here; perhaps they have slipped behind the
drawer."
Although nest to impossible, the chance
is not overlooked. Hammer and chisel are
soon fetched, and the back of the escritiore
is soon knocked out, leaving no nook or
cranny where the smalle,t paper could re
main unperceived.
Almost beside himself, Mark leads his
wife down stairs, and commences question.
ing her. Where is her key? On the ring,
it has not been out of her possession. has
she bean out? No. Is she quite sure of
that? Quite; besides, as she ventures to re
mind him, the locks have not been forced,
nor is aught else missing, as would have
been the case if thieves had entered the
hcuse. In uncontrollable agitation, time be
wildered young man paces the room, while
Fanny, unable to proffer advice, or assist
him with any reasonable conjecture, watches
him in trembling silence.
Suspicions are crowding upon hie mind;
hints given before his marriage about Fan
ny Roberts' brother, and regrets uttered,
even within his hearing, that a respectable
young man like Mr. Edwards, should lower
himself by such a connection, are suddenly
remembered and dwelt upon. He pauses
before his wife, and sternly demands what
errand had brought that brother of hers to
his house. That brother of hers! What a
speech ! All Fanny's sisterly feelings are
in arms, and yet she falters, for she is forced
to own that it was for the want of money.—
"And you told Idol that I had those papers
in the house," Mark cries, accusingly.—
With crimson face, she angrily denies it.—
She did not mention Marie's affairs during
their short interview. Is it likely she would
do so? Or if she did, would George, poor
foolish fellow that he is, steal up stairs and
rob his sister's home! Ridiculous! Impos
sible!
'Alark retorts, "without lie
possesses the key."
It has not been out of my pocket," sobs
Fanny.
"Then where?" asks Mark, "are the mis
sing papers ?" Their little servant-maid
away for a holiday—no one in the house,
according to Fanny's own confession, but
this young man. Where are the papers?
Receiving fur reply a torrent of tears and
protestations he flings himself on the soft,
and tries to steady his nerves to the conse
quences of this extraordinAry loss. Mean
while, Fanny goes and institutes an una
vailing search in every box, and cupboard,
and drawer where it could be possible to
find such a parcel, although it would puzzle
her to explain how it could have withdrawn
itself from the secret drawer to take refuge
elsewhere. At last she returns to the parlor in
despair. The packet must have been stolen.
But how? When? By whom? Getting
frightened at Mark's gloomy looks, she is
delighted when a tap at the door announces
a visitor, and that visitor proves to be her
father.
To him the affair it circumstantially de
tailed, and Mark points out the inevitable
loss of his situation and good name if be
should be unable to produce the papers or
give any clue which might lead to their dis
covery. To Fanny's dismay, he particular
ly dwells upon her brother's visit and her
half-made endeavor to conceal it; concluding
by an entreaty that she will, if retaining
any affection for her husband, tell all she
knows.
But now the father interposes. To tame
ly hear both his children accused of such a
crime is more than his irrascible temper
will endure, and he enters a counter-accusa
tion that Mark has, fur some unworthy end,
removed the parcel himself. Words now
become so hot and bitter that Fanny's dis
tress is increased, not lessened by this chum
pionship, and she weeps so bitterly and
pleads so earnestly with both that Mark,
more touched than he would like to confess,
abruptly leaves them to shut himself in his
chamber. After seine hours, the sound of
his footsteps ceasing the anxious wife creeps
softly up stairs, and is relieved to find him
lying on the bed in an uneasy slumber. Her
father persuades her to rest too, but poor
Fanny shakes her head, and still sits by his
side, leaning her head on his shoulder,
.and
feeling more forlorn and miserable than it
had ever been her lot to feel before. What
will poor Mark do? And what will become
of her if he persists in believing her guilty?
Equally bewildered and almost as unhap
py as his daughter, Mr. Roberts tries to
soothe her with promises, not only to seek
George, and bring him to exculpate himself,
but to forgive Marks hasty speeches, and
assist him in investigating this mysterious
affair. So, at last, Fanny begins to feel
more comforted, and to wish her father to
leave her; hut, tired as he cmfesses himself,
he calm it quit her in such trouble, and they
continue to occupy the same position by the
fire till night has long given place to morn
ing, and Mr. Roberts' eyes close involunta
rily.
A footstep overhead startles them. "It
is only Mark," says Fanny, after a moment's
listening. "Poor fellow, I wish he had slept
longer."
In the modern six-roomed house every
sound is distinctly audible, and they heard
him enter the chamber where stands the
shattered escritoire. After a short pause,
he is heard slowly descending the stairs, and
his wife raises herself from her reclining
position, and smooths her disordered hair.
As ho enters the room, Mr. Roberts lays
his hand on his daughter's arm. "Look,
child, look 1" he whispers; and Fanny sees
with astonishment that her husband is fast
asleep, and holds in one hand the bundle of
old love letters.
Setting down his candle. Mark unlocks
the front of his large and well filed book
case, and begins deliberately taking down,
one by one, the handsomely bound volumes
of the "History of England," which grace
the highest shelf; then he draws out a num
ber of the loose magazines, hidden there be
cause of their untidy appearance; lays the
o!d love-letters quite at the back of all re
places the odd numbers, returns the volumes
to their shelf, carefully putting them even.
locks the glass doors, and is talking away,
when Fanny, with a cry which awakens him
snatches the key froth his_hand. Rubbing
his eyes, and wondering, he sees her eager
fingers dragging [fame and Smolett from
their proud position to assume an inglorious
one on the hearth-rug and in the fender; the
once treasured "Bellee As-winblee" are scat
tered in all directions; the highly prized
love-letters receive similar usage; and then
from behind all the rest, Fanny triumphant
ly takes out th.! small brown paper parcel.
tied with pink tape, and sealed with the of
fice seal. Crying and laughing in one
breath the happy little wife is the next mo
ment in her husband's anus, kissing and be
ing kissed ad libitum.
Little explanation was needed. The
young man's brain, ex-cited by extreme anx
iety regarding his trust, hail led to his cau
tiously rising in the night, and unconscion-i
-ly transferring the packet to what he after
wards remembered as the first hiding-place
which had presented itself to his mind on
bringing it home the preceding evening.
how many times he asked forgiveness is
not recorded, but Fanny is a true woman,
quick to resent, but easily appeased; and
Mark has taken George and George's affairs
in hand so heartily, that the young scape
grace is actually improving, and there is
ev.m some hope of Fanny's belief in total
reformation being realized.
Brown. & Co
A STORY OF LOVE AND DCDT.
Nature evidently intended me to bo born
wealthy. By some mistake that excellent
intention was frustrated. Hence resulted a
gentleman of expensive and expensive tastes
—which tastes the inconsiderable sums he
received from the liberal proprietors of liar
pci's Mrgazinc,".in consideration of month
ly instalments of his brain, by no means
enabled him to gratify. Hence, inevitably,
non-receipted bills—hence, finally, duns.
This brings me to speak of my arch per
secutor—a demon in feature and malignity,
a merchant tailor by vocation, Brown (of
Brown & Co.) by name.
It is but justice to Brown to mention that
he had not always seemed the fiend lie
proved to be. Indeed, I had once thought
him ; if not an angel, at least the ninth moiety
of one. Angelic were his speech and man
ner when I first casually visited his fashion
able establishment with my friend Bray
ham, the half-millionaire. lie spread in
resistless array before me rare and costly !
fabrics, culled from the most recherche
fleeces and looms of Europe. He commend
ed them to me for purposes of coats, waist
coats and continuations, with moving elo
quence. When expiring Virtue hinted at
present pecuniary stringency, he stilled her
dying sigh with the honeyed assurance that
he would await my convenience. Could
anything have been more Mer.tl?
Human virtue, alas! is weak.
My love of goodly raiment was strong.
I yielded I
Months paused, during which I was the
cynosure of Broadway and the Academy of
Music.
New Year's came, and with it a bill from
Crown S Co. My surprise at its amount
only increased my grateful sense of obliga
tion to Brown.
A few weeks afterward came Dun No. 1,
or the Dan Delicate—a polite note confiding
to me the fact that the firm of Brown & Co., I
had heavy payments to meet on the nest I
day, for which act of liquidation the amount
of cash in the coffers was inadequate. "How
sad," I thought, "that such benevolence
should end in insolvency!"
A fortnight later came No. 2, or the Dun
Ijrgent—recapitulatory and pathetic, con
cluding with an illusion to legal measures:
delivered by a thick set young man, who
seemed in doubts as to whether it was not
part of his duty to knock the down.
Soon after No. 3, or the Duo Diabolical.
Brown hinaself•—his errand manifest in every
line of his ill-omened face, and each glance
of his evil eye—appeared in the parlor of
my hoarding-house, jJ et after dinner, when
E W. 1.3 (as usual) the centre of an admiring
circle of .coon; ladies.
That day I ceased to be the lion of my
boarding-house.
I will not dwell on the harrowing details
of the persecuticm that finally drove me to
seek another home. Like some mariner
im
pelled by the very fury of hostile elements
into a haven of tropical delights, so 1, in
fleeing from the vindictiveness of Brown,
was led by relenting Fate to the portals of
Elysium. To be circumstantial, I removed
to a quiet boarding-house in a remote part
of the city. My suit of apartments (com
prising a chamber and closet) was, as usual,
the third floor back. It commanded a bird's
eye view of two very limited back yards.—
Beyond them rose, four stories high, the
rear of a large double house, which my land
lady had informed me, in enumerating the
advantages of my room, was Madame Croch
et's boarding school fur young ladies.
At Madame's windows appeared, from
time to time, the usual variety of school
girl physiognomies—broad, round and at
tenuated, sallow, pale and freckled, merry,
mischierous and stolid. I soon, however,
remarked at the window just opposite mine
one of surpassing attractiveness. Dimpled
cheeks, lustrous blue eves, a profusion of
snnny ringlets—pshaw ! how feeble is lan
guage !
I have dealt copiously in the inceptive
and progressive phenomena of love in my
contributions to harper's Magazine afore
said, as the readers of that excellent period
ical know; yet I cannot thus violate the
sanctity of my personal experience. I have
the more reluctance, because I know tbat
every correct-minded reader will pronounce
the affair highly reprehensible, if not—m. s
Madame Crochet indignantly characterized
it—outrageous. To such I can only plead,
in extenuation of my conduct, that I was
then very young.
I will not, therefore, reproduce the thril
ling epoch when our windows and, I may,
add our souls, were first brought into com
munication by a pair of stares. ' I will pass
over the successive stages of the flustered
handkerchief—the projectile kiss—the deaf
and-dumb alphabet. Nor must I, out of re
gard fur the tranquility of Madame Croch
et's menage, divulge the secret of time postal
arrangement by means of which we were at
length enabled, in defiance of espionage, to
discharge full broadsides of affection to each
other on gilt-edged note paper.
Lest on the other hand, this veni-vidi-vies
like summing up of the history of so rich a
conquest should seem to savor of vanity, I
humbly record my indebtedness to two im
portant auxiliary circumstances; first, in
Madame Crochet's model establishment the
pupils were guarded against flirtation with
such lynx. like vigilance that it is no wonder
the proclivity thereto, inherent in young
feminine nature, had in them strengthened
into a positive mania; secondly, I was yet
in the almost undimmed glory of the apparel
furnished me by Brown & Co.
I was seated in my room one day reading
the following note, which had just reached
me in a perfumed condition and a pink en
velope:
"De tREST Anot.mtust—l have been in my
room all day pretending to be sick, but in
reality reading your street note again and
again. Oh ! how can I tell you the feelings
that agitate and overwhelm MC? Terror at
thoughts of what Madame Crochet would
say if she only knew—joy unspeakable at
the assurance that I ant really, truly loved,
by one so good, so noble as you.
"Then you are really a literary man, and
wrote those dear, delightful stories in Hitr
per's Magazine. It seems all a dream that
one standing on such a pinnacle of genius
and famo should stoop to care fur such a
plain, foolish, unattractive little body us me.
"And is it true that your poverty is the
only obstacle to our speedy marriage 7 (I
wish you could see how I blush as I write
tho word.) I think dear Adolphus, I can re
move that obstacle. My papa is a merchant
on Broadway. They say he is rich— I don't
know how rich, but am sure he has heaps
of money. Ile wouldn't esaetly approve
of my getting married now, but if we should
do it first and then ask his consent after.
wards, I am sure he won't refuse it, for I
am his only child, and he thinks all the
world of me. Besides, I know ho will be
proud that I married a man of genius.—
Then ho will give us a house and everything
nice.
"Dear, noble Adolphus, do not think me
cheap for consenting so readily. If you only
know how unhappy I am, and what crrel
ties and privations I suffer from Madame
Crochet, I am sure you wouldn't wonder.
"But I roust bid yon adieu, dearest, and
get a horrid geometry lesson, or I shall get
a dreadful scolding.
"Write immediately to your ever devoted.
"ARABELLA."
"Angel," I murmured, on finishing it,
"commissioned to elevate me to that height
of competence and happiness for which na
ture designed me! Blissful prospects of—"
Just then a tap came nt my door—and
Brown entered !
"So I have found you at last," he ex
claimed with unpleasant elation. "11, pe
you have been well ?"
My paradise was in possession of the fiend.
No resource remained but diplomacy. Re
pellant as it was to my feeling..., I yet, in
my desperation, availed myself of it.
•'Mr. Brown," I said, attempting a cheer
ful expression of countenance, "I trust the
time is tear when I shall be able to dis
ebarze my long- lefsrrsi oldigatilus to y .u.'
51,50 PER YEAR IN ADVACE; *2,00 IF NOT IN ADVANCEI
ETH
Brown replied only by an incredulous leer,
as one who should say, "That's played out."
"Mr. Brown," I continued, drawing ms
chair confidentially close to his, "I am go
ing to be married."
"The very best thing a young gentlemai ,
can do," he remarked, paternally, "provi
ded he marries well." The last clause Iva.,
interrogative.
"She is an angel," I replied, (Brown
sneered,) "and an heiress," Brown smiled
approval)—"the only child of wealthy pa
rents," (Brown became radiant.)
The result," he exelaitned, "of being fit
ted out by Brown & Co. You are not the
first young gentleman whose fortune has
been made in that way. Very few," he
continued, sententiously, "appreciate the
value of good clothes."
I will not repeat the conversation that
ensued. So a::::. , factory was it, that Brown's
original confidence in, and benevolent re
gard fur me, were fully restored. lie even
engaged to furnish a wedding, suit, accept
ing my nute for the full amount of my in
debtedness to him, increased by interest at
rather more than the legal rate.
Fortune and Arabella continued to smile
on me. After a few impatient weeks and
numerous ardent epistles, Hymen was in
voked to cap the climax of our happiness.—
A dark evening—the quiet exit of Arabella
—a eat riage containing myself at the near
est corner—a hurried visit to a certain well
known clergyman whose sympathy for be
nighted seekers after matrimony has been
a source of much emolument to himself—
followed by penitent filial prostration at the
paternal feet; this was the programme whose
successful execution sent unbounded indig
nation to the bosoms of Madame Crotchet
and her corps of accomplished intstructors,
and a thrill of symi.athetic excitement to
those of her fair pupils, besides leading to
occurrences yet to be recounted.
The next morning after the evening of our
marriage—thrice happy evening!—we pre
sented ourselves at the handsome up-town
residence of Arabella's parent.
Seated, awaiting :lint in the parlor, Ara
bella lookep peeuliary lovely. Her com
plexion was a peculiar mixture of caller and
blushes, and her beautiful eyes were evi
dently charged with a torrent of tears, ready
fur effusion at the right moment. As fur
myself, I was carefully arrayed for the oc
casion in the irresistible dress suit that had
graced my wedding.
At length the door opened. The tears
gushed. "Dear papa," sobbed Arabella,
"this—is—my—h us band."
Turning, I confronted Brown!
That my Arabella, nee Blown, should
have been the daughter of Ow! Brown, of all
the thousands in New York bearing that
respectable patronymic
My first impulse was to rush incontinent
ly from the house, but one glance from Ara
bella incapacitated me for such a proceed
ing. Brown on the other hand, exhibited
evidences of an equally violent and unpleas
ant tumult of emotions. At length recov
ering his composure, somewhat as a serpent
might revive after an unexpected blow from
a cudgel, he *marked blandly—"lt seems
you have done me the honor, sir, to marry
my daughter, and now, I suppose, expect
me to provide for you both."
I bowed courteous assent to this proposi
tion.
"Then I am sorry to disappoint you," he
continued with emphasis. "My property
has been acquired by years of toil, and it
shall never support the extravagance of a
young gentleman who is incapable of dis
charging that first of social obligations
—the payment of his tailor's bills. Arabel
la, if you will leave this man and return to
me, you shall continue to hare a home—
(Here A. embraced my left coat sleeve, sob
bing, 'Never! never!')—otherwise I shall
have no further communication with you.—
While I acknowledge" (turning to me) "no
claim arising from your mr cringe., yet I ,1,,
not wish to act ungenerously. Accept this
as my daughter's dowry." litre he pro.
duced from his pocket-book end handed to
me a slip of paper. I unfolded it, my own
note for three hundred dollars to Brown &
Col Indignantly returning it to him, and
dramatically declaring that I would speedi
ly rid myself of the obligation or starve, I
left the house, carrying on my arm the half
hysterical Arabella.
The nest day we took apartments in a
modest cottage in New Jersey. here my
Arabella proved a priceless treasure, devel
oping marvelous economical resources, and
acting as a most efficient amanuensis. With
such assistance and encouragement I pro
duced so many thrilling tales for the "Cos
mopolitan Sensationist," and such stunning
editorials for the "Weekly Paz-hart," that
in less than two years I hind the satisfaction
of paying the full amount of my note to
Brown J. Co.
Marvelous was the change that took place
in Brown's estimate of me on that occasion.
He at once made satisfactory overtures of
reconciliation, and insisted on my accepting
from him a new suit of clothes.
To so high a point did his admiration of
me at length rise, that he urged me to aban
don my literary drudgery and study under
his tuition the remunerative and highly res
pectable profession cf tailoring. I. of course.
accepted so advantageous un offer. Being
naturally gifted with high artistic qualities,
I have made rapid progress. I record with
grateful emotions that I have this day been
admitted into the flourishing firm of Brown
Co., merchant tailors. I herewith take
my fin•tl literniure. •
[WHOLE UMBER 1,605.
Wonderful Mautscript Discoveries
The recent troubles in Syria r.ro produc
ing some very unexpected results. The re
cult of the fanatical Druseq, and the retri
bution provoked by the excesses to which
the insane hatred of the Alaronite Chris
tians had led them, have resulted in open
ing to the gaze of the civil:zest world trea
sures, which but fur that contest might have
Mill remained buried among the musty pos
sessions of the convents of Polestine.—
'family have the scholars of the world ceased
their congratulations over the famous Ti,ch
endorf manuscript—the most valuable lit
erary treasure discovered in modern times—
before the announcement is made that a
rival•has been found in an Old Testament
discovered nt Nazareth, in comparison with
which the former appears almost toOd,lll
its date.
This new treasure is a copy of the Pentr
tench, and claims to be at least twenty-three
hundred and sixty years uld.
The best account or the matter which has
thus for reached us is from the pen of Dr.
Leyburn, now in Palestine, in a reeent
number of the Presbyterian. It appear. ,
that Professor Levishon, an eminent 0: ...n
-ut' scholar, n frie n d of Tis,h(nd rf and
for twenty years Professor of Hebrew in tin,
University of St. Peterstmr,4 h for me
time been pursuing his studio.; with g-,.at
zeal in Jerusalem, with special ref - ere:tea to
the University soon to be erected there. by
the Russian Government.
Professor Levishon, in his search fur old
manuscripts, went to Nazareth neatly a
year ago, and looked at a number, amongst
which was one they told him had been
"through the fire." On esa•nining it he
found an endorsement, evidently from a dif
ferent hand, and of later date than the
original, stating that on a certain ocea-Ann
this with se. oral others, was thrown into the
lire a% a test its genuineness, and that is
alone came out uninjured. Having re
turned to Jecuealc,u, the Professor pur
sued his w dinary work until some time af
ter the Damascus and Lebanon massacres,
when a fanatic Moslem from Damascus came
down to Nazareth, and began to persecute
three of the Samaritan t. it U , :u. re,
and on some petty charge had them cast in
to prison. Dr. Levishon, who had been con
sulted in the matter, inquired of the Rus
sian Bislitip at Jerusalem if the three Sa
maritans had no means of purchasing their
BEIM
' . :Sloae," was the reply, "they are very
pour
"No property?"
' None."
”Nut 'ling whatever?"
••Nothing—yes they have a book, a very
old book, and it is cue which has been Pirou ;Tic
the firer"
The Professor no sooner heard this than
he saw himself in anticipation the owner of
this rare old treasure. lle at once made a
large offer for the book; the prisoners were
released and the book became his property.
On a closer scrutiny of the manuscript it
writ found, front an inscription, to be, as al
ready stated, at least two thousand three
hundred and sixty years old. It is endorsed
as having been in the hands of Zerubabel,
who built the second temple.
Even this ancient manuscript is surpass
ed by another, which has long been known
to be in existence, known as the "Samaritan
Pentateuch," and w hich has hitherto been
studiously withheld front the eves ~f•
schi -
arc, but which Professor Levish in has re
cently been permitted to examine. and of a
portion of which he has made photographic
foe simile copies. During the inter e-ting
researches connected with this fatuous man
uscript, Dr. Levishon found upon it an in
scription which places it he says "beyond
all doubt that this identical parchment copy
of the Pentateuch (the Samaritan) was
made by a grandson of Aaron, and the
grand -net hew of Moses."
We must confess that these discoveries
seem almost too wonderful for belief, an I
yet the statements of such a scholar as Pro
fessor Le's ishon seem hardly to leave us room
to doubt their substantial c,,rreetne&s.—
Verily that little despised t0...-n r f Zelo
has been strangely limn red' Ir was
that Christ lived for thirty n ra
here that Ile preachA his lit a sermon, an 1
now after the lapse of almost tnentc centu
ries, it is Nazareth to which is reserved the
honor of giving the, most ancient manuscript
copies of the Old Testament to the world:—
Indeed this last mentioned copy of the Pen
tateuch, if we arc to accept the dates assign
ed it, must have been more than a thonsand
years old at the time of the Savior's birth.
Who shall say that the eyes of Christ has s
not rested upon, and His hands handled,
this thrice sacred volume, or that when He
went into the synagogue of this very town,
"and stood up to read," as "His cestom
was on the Sabbath day," that he did not
sometimes open this very book?—S.
Chronicle.
:.4—The man everybody likes is generally
fool. The man who nobody likes is general.
13- a knave. The man who has friends who
would die for him, and fi.,es who would love
to see him broiled alive, is usually a man of
somo worth and furee.
Met:sr.—no New York Sunday Timeg
gives this deserter it good shot. in the f I.
lowing
"Cnkrerrotory Maur3" once. ula•I
%Ve CJ I:ed our n..,10ws glint
But new w 4 ll wring eh.' 4wr n..
- '