r i
\ rt U A t la
C r
)
i i 4
SAKI* WEIGHT, Editor and Proprietor.
VOLUME XXXIII, NUMBER 9.1
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING.
(Vice in Carpet Hall, North-toesteorner of
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lah'er.
frrMon eym a e:e value db eTAbljsb
er s ridle
Rates of Advertising.
qua r c[tli ines]one week,
three weeks,
eachiubsequeniinsertion, 10
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Largeradvertisemenffin proportion
A liberalliscount uri the made to ,luarterly.ll al 1-
early.° r/early tdvertisers,who are btrietl3confittett
otheir business.
DR. HOFFER,
DENTIST.--OFFICE, Front Street aft door
trout Locust. over tt"aylor & At cDonald'a Honk store
Columbia. Pa. ID — Entrance, same at.: Jolley's l'hcs
• °graph Gallery. [August 21, 1859.
THOMAS WELSH.
-1118TICE OF TIIE PEACE, Columbia, Pa.
OFFICE. in Wl,ipper's New Building, below
alnek's Hotel, Front street.
ellov - Prompt attention given to all business entrusted
0 ins care.
\ November 28, 1557.
H. M. NORTH,
TTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW
columbium,
- Collections .r. romptly made nLaneabterand York
)ounces.
Columbia,May 4,1950.
J. W. FISHER,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law,
.43,3.11.7.233.110.11.Efi, .W.Vi.
Colunnbiu, Septemberll, 14,11.i.11
S. Atlee B ckius, D. D. S.
I)RACTICKS the Operative, Su rg teal and Median
icul Drpartmento of Dentistry:,
OFFICE Locust street, betweect be Pranklia Howie
and Poor Office, Columbia, Pa
May 7, Ism
Harrison's Conmbian Ink.
A ATIIICII is a superior article, permanently black,
VI and not corroding the pen, can he hod iu an)
..antity. at the Family Medietoe Store, and blacker
yet a+ that English Boot Polish.
Columbia...lime 9, 1859
We Have Just Received
R. CUTTER'S Improved Chest Expanding
Suipender and Shoulder Bracey for Gentlemen,
and Patent Skirt Supporter and lirace for Ladie , ,
Plot the article that is wanted at thin time. Come
and tee them at Family Medicine Store, Odd Fellows'
Hall. [April It, taliS
Prof. Gardner's Soap
TATE have the New Hoglund Soap for those who die
TY not Minim it from the Soap Mum it pleasant
to the skin. and wit! take grease spoil from Wooten
Goott4, it is therefore no humbug. for you get the
worth of your money nt the rumtly Medicine Store.
Columbia, Julie 11,1859.
aRAIIAM, or, Bond's Boston Crackers, for
Dympeptie4, and Arrow Root Crat•Lerc,
vulids and eliildien—new articles lit Columbia, at
the Family Medicine time,
April IU. 1839.
SPALDING'S PREPARED GLUE.--lbe want of
such nn urtiele is felt In every family, and now
it con be supplied; for mending fuenoure, china
ware,ornameneal work, toys. &e., there is nothing
supetior. We have found it tieeful in repairing ninny
areteles which have been useless fur month.. You
4511126 in at at the
ts.ounA: }WILY MEDICINE STORE.
IRON AND STMEL I
TIII'. Subscribers have received u New arid Large
:Lock of all klml. nod nix.
• BAR IRON AND STEEL !
They are constantly supplied with stock its this branch
of his business. and can funish it to cumomers in large
or small quantities, at the lowest rates
.1. !MAIMS: & SON.
Locum street below Second, Columbia, Pa.
A aril 2a, le6o.
RITTER'S Compound Syrup of tar and
Ivad Cherry, for Cough., Cold, Ste. Ft.: +ale u
he Golden Mortar Drug Store, Froul st . I I uly2
AYER'S Compound Coneentrated Eatract
Sarsaparilla for the cure of Scrofula • • King's
Evil. and all scrofulous affections, a fresh gig 6..40 just
received and for sale
It. WILLIAMS, Front at , Columbia,
sept. 24, 185,
FOR SALE.
2
00 GROSS Friction Matches, very lose for rash.
Jane 25.'59. It. NVIIA.In
Dutch Herrings
ANY one fond of a good herring an be aupplEed at
S.. F. EBERLE/I N'S
Nov. 19, 1859. Grocery Store, No. 71 Locust et.
LYON'S PURE 01110 CATAWBA BRANDY
and PURR WINKS. espeelally Mt Medicines
nd Sacramental purpoves, nt the
Jan. 29. FAMILY MEDICINS STO
•NICE RAISINS for B.ets. per pound, are to
be had only at
EBERLEIN'S Grocery Sunre,
March 10, 1060. • N 0.71 Locum otreet.
GARDEN SEEDS.—Fresh Garden Seeds, war
ruined pure, of all kaula, lu=t received at
ELIERLEINIeI Grocery Store,
N 0.71 Losu4 'greet.
March 10,1960
POCKET BOOKS AND PURSES.
A.LARGE lot of Pine and Common Pocket Books
and Purses, at from 15 cent; to two dollars each.
Ht tdquartera and News Depot.
Columbia, April 14. I 3W.
AEBW more of those beautiful Prints
Lett, which will lie gold eheop, ot
SAYLOR sh his:DONALD'S
Colombia. 1.41._
April 14
Just Received and For Sale.
1500 SACKS Ground Alain Sall, in large
or sad; guano ties,ot
A PPOLD'S
Wu rehnuae . camel lisioin.
a 45 .5 GO.
/OLD CREAN OF GLYCERINE.--For the care
•%., and prevention to chopped hand., &e. For vale
ot the GOLDEN MORTAR DRUG STOR R T.
t• • Dee..3,18,i9. Front ..treet. Columbia.
Turkish Prunes!
„Elpß. a Slat rata article of Prunes you mum q o to
S. SWITILI-AN'S
N. 1r.:9, 1839. Grocery Store, No 7/. Locust sr
GOLD PENS, GOLD PENS.
MUST received a large and fine assortment of Cold
U Pens. of Newton and Ormsoold'v manufactory, at
SA YLOR & fitcDONA LOS Book Store.
Agril 14. Front street. above Locust.
FRESH GROCERIES.
B continue to sell the he..t.q.esy” Syrup. White
wl and Brown Sugars, good Coffees and choice Teas,
to be %ad in Columbia at the New Corner Store. *P
raise Of i•Pellowe' Hall, and at the old etaud adjoin.
, d ug the nt. H. C. FONDERSMITII.
gem's, Tobacco, &c.
Atat eit first-rate Seger!. Tobacco and Sneff will
be found at the store of the subscriber. lie keeps
only a first-rate article. Call it.
• P. ESISIMEI WS Grocery Store.
GetA,IS -• Locate at., Columbia, la.
PAAN BERRI ES,
Tj EW Crop Pronto, NOW Citron at
Oct. 10. MOO.. - - • A. M. RAMBO'S,
SARDINES.
Worceider.bire Sind. Refined Coegua.f.e.. jut re
caned and for sale by S. F. E.I3ERLEIN. •
Oct. Si, Ito), No. 71 Locum St.
CRANBERRIES.
Mreclined a fresh lot of Cranberries and New
eNU, at No. 71 Locust Swam
•OW isoo. • • S. F. EDER-lA.IN
tatirg.
To My Wire
The following exquiatte ballad was written by
Joseph Brennan, an Irish exile, who died in New Or
leans, name years age, of consumption, at the age of
twenty-eight. Air. Brennan wrote several songs that
'tweeted much attention, but this is the beet. It is
touchingly beautiful.
5150
Come to me, denrest, I'm lonely without thee
Darsimcaud night-thne I'm thinking about Mee;
night-time and day-time in dreams I behold thee—
Unwelcome the waking that ceases to fold thee.
MA
Come to me, purling, my sorrow to lighten;
Come in shy beauty to bless and to brighten;
Come in thy womanhood, meekly and lowly;
Come in thy lovingness, queenly and holy.
Swallows will Bit round the dceol,ate
Telling of Spring and ins joyous renewing;
And thoughts of thy love and Its manifold treasure,
Are circling my heart with a promise of pleasure.
Oh, Spring of m 7 spirit! Oh, May of my bosom!
Shine out on my life till it bourgeon and blossom;
The past of my life has a rose root w'thin it,
And thy fondness alone to the bumbine can win it
Figures that movrs like a song through the even—
Feature+ lit up by a reflex of (leaven—
Eyes like the skies of poor Erin, our mother,
Where shadow and run 'lime are chasing each other
Smiles coming seldom but childlike and simple,
Opening their eyes from the heart of a dimple;
Oh, thank% to the Saviour! that even thy seeming
Is left to the exile to brighten his dreaming.
You have been glad when you knew I wa• gladdened;
Dear, are you sud now to hear I am saddened?
Our hearts ever answer in tune and in time, love,
As octave, to octave, and rhyme unto rhyme, love.
I cannot weep, tut your tears will be flowing;
You cannot snide, but my cheelm will be glowing;
I would not die without y ou at my tide, love,
You will not linger when I shall have died, love.
Come to nw, dear, e'er I die in my sorrow,
i.e on my gloom like the sun of to morrow—
Strong swift and fond as the words that I speak, love
With a song on thy Ilps soda smile on thy cheek. love.
Come for my heart In your absence is weary;
flame, for my s pirit is sickened and dreary;
Come to the heart that is throbbing to ores, thee,
Come to the arms that would fondly corm thee.
Ny Little Heart
The sun is set but there fulls no dew;
The year is old and the moon is new;
My fate is cruel, my heart is free,
And I sit in thr silei.ee and think of you,
My dearest. dear little heart.
I sit in the silence and watch the skies,
As the tender red of the evening dice;
Illy fate is cruel, but fti•h defies
The Dreary night ihnitieiween us lies,
1115 denre•t, d..ur little heart.
All the dreaming is broken thrnugh;
Unlit what is done and undone I rue;
Nothing is ~teutlfa.: and nothing true
But your love for me and my love for you,
lily dearest, dear little heerr.
With the waves thnt ebb, with the wave. that flow,
When the winds are loud, when the winds are low,
When the rose• come, when the roses go,
One thought, one feeling is stll I know,
My dearest, dear little heart.
l'he time is weary. the year k old;
The light of the lily burns close to the mould;
The grave is cruel, the grave is cold,
But the other side is the city of gold,
My dearest, dear little bean.
getectiong.
"Pray, Sir, are you a Gentleman?"
[CONCLUDED.]
After a little more conversation I took my
departure. IV ithout being in any way able
to account fur it, or to reason on the subject,
I felt I should first stumble on the lady in
question. Not many days later, one idle
Saturday afternoon, I went with a friend to
a private lunatic asylum some little way out
of London; he to see a relation confined
there, whom he considered it his duty to
have a look at now and then; I, out of mere
curio,ity to inspect such a place. Arrived
at the asylum, he went off at once with the
mistress of the establishment; I, under the
charge of a female warden, was taken round
such parts as are shown to a visitor. In
one room was a girl with long dishevelled
dark hair, and blue eyes, swinging on a
rope hanging from the ceiling. She was
dressed in Turkish fashion. Strange!
thought I; dark hair, blue eyes. "What is
the matter with her?" I inquired.
"Ob, she is mad, but harmless enough;
her friends are very rich. She lute a fancy
for dressing so, and the mistress allows ber.
At times she is not so bad, and then ebe
lives quite alone with the mistress. She is
always worse when she sees strangers, and
talks mere nonsense when they are present.
Listen to her. She is singing such rubbish
now."
And co she was, but yet there was a meth
od in her jumble of songs. such, I almost
fancied, as n person might be driven to use
who wished to feign madness. I eyed her
intently. She was looking at see with ap
parent carelessness. Can it be she.?" thought
I. "Oh, no, it cannot. She would surely
recognise me." At that moment I bethought
me of the pearl ring. I lifted up my finger,
and deliberately turned round to her full
view the conspicuous part of the ring. With
a shriek of anything but madness she ran
away.
"Oh, she is gone," said my companion,
"to the mistress' private room. She can go
there when she likes."
I was satisfied, and said nothing, but
waited for my friend and the bead of the es
tablishment, the latter of whom I intended
to see alone. In a minute or two a tele
graphic message, stating that I must return
to my chambers in town, to a consultation,
by the first train, was put into my bands.—
I consoled myself with the idea that I would
come down again, on Monday. I inquired
the name of the mad eirl; mode my bow, sad
"NO ENTERTAINMENTIS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 28, 1861.
in three-quarters of an hour anis deep in
law in my chambers.
Monday morning found me at Mrs. —'s,
near Haswell.
"Is Mrs. at home?"
"Yes sir•"
I sent up my card, and when admitted, I
forthwith proceeded to make inquiries about
my friend.
"Oh, she was taken away yesterday I.y
her friends. She has been improving lately,
and was removed about two o'clock yester
day."
"Do you know where she came from, or
where she has gone?" said I.
"Not at all, sir."
I saw the woman was telling an untruth,
but how could I expose her?
"Do your patients generally come and go
in that extraordinary manner?"
"Oh, constantly, when introduced and
,takep away by a doctor."
"Then her friend is a medical man?"
."Nn, air, I did not say that; her friends
brought a medical man with them."
Untruth No. 2, thought I
"And what is his name, pray?"
"That I must not tell."
Truth the first and last, I thought.
"I can give you this clue, sir—they went
down the line, for I know they took tickets
to Exeter."
I "Thank you," said I, inwardly concluding
that that was untruth No. 3, and that there
fore (as turned out to be the ease) the par
ties had gone up the line—probably to Lon
don. I then became more open, threatened,
coaxed, tried to bribe, and at last was told
that if I did not leave the house at once, I
should be turned out by the men•servants.—
Out I accordingly chose to go of my own
free (?) will. In vain I twisted and turned
everything over in my mind. The mistress
of the establishment was not to blame—l
could not bring her into court, for I dared
not prove any interest in the young lady.—
Besides, I might have been mistaken, and
in that case how foolish 1 should have look
ed. I was obliged, again, to fall back on
Time, the great solver of mysteries. At
length Time came to my relief.
About eighteen months after the last men
tioned circumstances I was junior counsel
in some trial in London. It was my turn to
examine the next witness—a somewhat un•
important one, by-the-bye.
"Miss Eveline Shirlock."
"Miss Evelina Shirlock" was repeated by
the man in office. Forthwith the usual oath
was administered in tho accustomed rapid,
careless manner—" The evidence you shall
give," &c., &c. I had not as yet looked no,
for I was running my eye over my brief: but
when I did, I was so startled as nearly to
jump out—not of my skin, but•—of my wig .
Good gracious! More beautiful than ever,
and self-possessed, there stood before me in
the witness-box my long•lost miedy friend.
Now, if a barrister ever loses his presence
of mind, be is not fit for his profession. I
very nearly, but not quite—never, however,
so nearly as then—lost my presence of mind.
However, my wits did not quite abandon me.
At a glance I saw thot the witness did not
recognize in a grey curly wig, and with a
sedate face, her former ally with dark locks
and a merry countenance. At once I thrust
deep into my pocket my pearl-ringed hand,
tried slightly to change my voice, and be
gan:
"Your name is Evelina Shirlock?"
"Yes."
"You live at Sun Villa, Regent's Park?"
"Yes."
"You are described, I see, as the niece of
Sir John and Lohn Clanmer, living at the
same place?"
"I am."
"[lave you lived there long?" She got
confused. No answer.
••llnvo you live there long?" I repented
"What on earth are you at?" whispered
my senior counsel on the same side. "You
will so bother the girl with your questions,
which have nothing to do with the case, that
she won't be able to give the evidence we
really want. •
"No, I will not," I replied; but I saw the
lady change color rapidly more than once,
sigh, and given tokens of fainting. I put
my handkerchief to my face. "My nose is
bleeding," I whispered to my senior. "Yon
examine this witness, I will take the next."
At once I left the court. The witness did
net, I believe, acquit herself in first-rate
style, for which I got the blame. My irrel
evant questions I attributed to a throbbing
head, in corroboration of which my suppos
ed bloody nose did me good service. The
evidence, I knew, could not materially affect
the case, and I had elicited what I wanted.
No sooner was the court up than, having
changed my clothes and flung my papers at
the astonished clerk's head, off I drove to
Sun Villa, Regent's Park.
'•ls Miss Shirlock at home?"
"Yes, sir."
"Take my card up, and say I am the gen
tleman who examined her to-day in court,
and that I wish to see her."
Quickly, radiant with beauty, she entered,
leaning on her aunt's ann. She shook hands
with me.
"Oh, aunty' she said, "this is the gentle
man to whom we are so much indebted, and
to whom my warmest thanks are especially
owing. But, Mr. Stonhonse, you were too
hard upon me in court. When I fancied I
began to recognize you, I thought I should
have fainted."
•'lndeed, bliss Shit.lock, you mutt make
every allowance for my excitement on so
unexpectedly meeting you, after having in
vain sought you for many a long month."
Lady Clanmer kindly asked mo to dine.
Sir John had already started for some Loed
Mayor's feast in the city. Of course I ac
cepted. Dinner over, and a decent time
hating been spent at the dessert, the old lady
ro.e. saying:
"I shall leave you two together, for I dare I
say you have a great deal to talk about."
We did talk. Each of us told our own
story. With her's you shall forthwith be
made acquainted in her own words. Seated
by me, she began:
"I am the only child of Mr. and Mrs.
Shirlock, of Rukeby Castle, near Reigate.—
My father originally was very far from
wealthy. All the property and money came
from my mother's side. Unfortunately, I
lost my mamma. when yming. By the mar
riage settlements, which had been conceived
in a most grasping manner by my maternal
grand-father, who disliked my father, and
which were shamefully worded, it was or
dered that if my mother died first, the child
or children should inherit all the property
(about £lO,OOO a year) and the house, and
that my father should only be allowed £5OO
per annum for the rest of his life. I men
tion this as a slight excuse fur my poor
father's most shameful conduct. When I
was about seventeen years old he began to
get very anxious. He could not realize the
idea of coming down from being master of
Rokehy Castle and a large fortune to a pal
try pittance. He knew that even if I did
not assert my legal rights a husband,
sooner or later, probably would du so for
me. Had he dared, ho would have killed
me. Ile often said as much. When I was
about eighteen he told me be had found a
husband for me whom I must prepare to
marry. Now, at that age I really was
averse to the idea of matrimony, and when I
was introduced to my would-be lord and
master, my dislike knew no bounds. After
a little time I discovered that my father had
entered into an agreement that if Mr.
married me, my husband and myself were
to have £l,OOO a year, and my father the
rest until his death. Mr. actually
bound himself in writing to give up to my
father £9,000 a year and Rakeby Castle if
my father would make me re arry him. Now,
the money and the castle I never cared about;
my father miLitt hare had those with all my I
heart, as he ought during his lifetime; but
to be bought and sold, to be compelled to
marry an odious man (for odious he was in
every way) to be compelled to marry no
odious man, to be made a—"
Miss Shirlock burst into tears. After a
time she continued:
"I need hardly say that on discovering
the under-plot I resisted more stoutly than
ever every entreaty, every threat, every
bribe, made use of to induce me to marry
Mr. —. Things went on this way till I
was nearly nineteen. It was bad enough
fur me, I confess, but not enough in my opin
ion to justify a daughter running away from
her parent's roof. About a month before I
met you my father sent for mo. After a
long interview, in which I steadfastly main
tained my ground, my father dismissed me,
saying with as oath, "You shall see what it
is to disobey me—you shall undergo worse
than death." Prom that moment I was
closely watched, not allowed to see any one,
confined to my room and a stroll with an at
tendant fur nn hour a day in our back
garden. In a short time I was visited by
two medical men, who q•tickly informed my
father that they were satisfied, and would
do as he wished. The meaning of that
my father next day told me, namely, that
for £5OO each the medical gentlemen had
signed n certificate stating that I was mad;
that he had met with a nice private estab
lishment and an accommodating, easy-con
scienced, though hard-dealing mistress,
who was utterly devoid of feeling; that in a
fortnight's time, if I did not marry Mr.
—, I should be confined for life. "Yes,
for life, and in a madhouse, miser but I
will not repeat his fearful language. My
servant was faithful to me, whatever her
other faults were. By my request she
searched my father's private papers, and
found that things were exactly as he had
stated. Long before this I had written to
my mother's sister, Lady Clanmer—then
living in Paris—but in vain. My letters
were all intercepted. What could I do but
run away? I know full well that I should
be telegraphed fur, because when not in my
room, of which my father kept the key, I
was visited by him every quarter of an hour
in the garden, just that be might see that I
had not escaped. Day after day I had
marked the regular running train in which
we first met. By a heavy bribe I obtained
a midshipman's dress and a ticket marked
Dover to London, from one cf the porter's
at the station, who had been in our service.
I suppose he got it from his brother, the
driver, who had come from Dover. I also
begged him to keep an empty first-class car
riage for me; and instructed my maid, as
soon as she saw the train actually in motion,
to return with a scratched face, and say that
I had knocked her down and ran off to the
station. All went right till you jumped into
the carriage after the train had started.—
That led to my strange question, "Pray, sir,
are you a gentleman?"
We were both silent for a time.
"Well, Miss Middy," I said, you have
enlightened me as to your history down to
our first meeting in the train, will you kind
ly condescend to give roe a history of your
self since our parting in a cab?"
"Most willingly," replied she, smiling
through her tears. "You have been quite
my preserver. After leaving you I drove
near the residence of one of the medical gen
tlemen whose names you had given me, got
rid of my cabman" (you little knew, thought
I, what a narrow escape you had there),
"and went to the doctor. On finding he was
nt home, I walked straight in, told him my
whole history, and threw. myself quite on
his honor, begging him to conceal me
effectually for two years, when I should be
of age. After a time, chiefly owing to me,
the idea of going into voluntary confinement
in a private lunatic asylum was hit upon
and matured. There I should never be
sought. There I went. The mistress, a
kind lady, was of course in the secret. I
did just what I liked. Able lawyers were
engaged to watch proceedings for me in the
outer world. In case of accident T wore a
wig of dark hair. ALI went well till you by
chance stumbled on me in the mad house.
Your kindness, your good nature, I did not
doubr, but 1 did not then want to meet you.
That same afternoon I telegraphed to Dr.
that same night I was in his house,
and commenced my new duties, to avoid
suspicion, as governess to his children. In
three months' time my father died. My
legal friends secured my rights for me. My
uncle and aunt had come to England. I •
told them my story. They were horror
struck, but I thanked God I was a free
agent. My nest object was to find you. I
did nut wish to make ourselves ton conspi
cuous, so I refrained from advertising; but
in every other way, tried without success,
to meet with you. Time after time have I
followed in my carriage a cab which, after
all, contained the wrong individual. Thank
Goodness, at last we mot, though it was
in a crowded court, and though, Mr.
Stonhouse, you were a little too hard upon
Atid now let me thank you," she
said, putting her band confidingly into mine.
' Oh, youi eennot tell how much Do thank
you, for your former great kindness to mc."
I soon became very intimate at Sun Villa.
On the events or the next your I must nut
dwell much. They are too painful. Day
after day I rode with Miss Shirlock in the
park, dined at lady Clanmer's house two or
three times a week, escorted her and her
niece constantly to the opera and theatre,
for Sir John did not trouble himself much
about such places, and was only too glad to
place the ladies under my charge. I ne
glected my law business to such a degree
teat even now I am slightly suffering from
it. As for loving Miss Shirlock-, of that I
never dreamed. 03e day I said to her:
"Middy (I had learned to call her so),
what have you done with the likeness I gave
you in the train?"
"Oh, Ido not know," she replied. "I do
not Want it so much now that I am as
with you; my chief reason fur
keeping it was that I might recognize you
again."
Of course we often laughed and talked
about our first meeting. Time after time
we used to talk about my engagement.
"Middy, how is it you do not marry? I
know that Captain Fitzgerald is dying for
you—Mr. Carlyon is desperately in love—
the Honorable Augustus Bonehurch would
give anything to call you his own. Why
don't you make one or other of these gen
tlemen come forward, or, rather, why do
you continue to refuse all your admirers one
after the other?"
"Oh, I do not know, Mr. Stonhouse; I du
not lore them; they are only attracted by
my sweet face or fortune."
"Well, but some are sensible men; why
don't you try to love some of them?—you
will in time, if you try?"
"Pshawl" burst in Middy. "How can
you talk such nonsense, and profane the
name of love in that way? If I were driven
to seek a home, like a very young girl, who
had no experience, the case might be differ
ent. Even then in a short time I should
find out that I had acted wickedly."
"Well, but Middy—" said I.
"Now, don't go on in that way, Mr. Spe
cial Pleader. You are not holding a brief
for which you nro paid, so you are not
bound to speak what you do not believe."
In the course of eighteen mouths, towards
the close of the London season, Middy and
I were together in the garden, I lying on the
grass smoking, she seated near me.
"Middy," said I, "give me joy; the old re
lation who stood between me and matrimony
is supposed at last to be dying, and probably
in the course of six or eight months I shall
no longer be a bachelor."
"What, Frank!" she cried. "What, go
ing to be married?"
"Yes, Middy," said I, somewhat puzzled.
"You know full well I was engaged."
"Yes, but, but—"
She said no more, but fell on her face
fainting.
"Here's a mess," thought I, as 1 rushed
to a neighboring friendly fountain. "Here
is a mess!" exclaimed I, as, on returning
with water, I saw that my picture and a
locket with hair in it of the same color as
mine had, by the fall, been shaken from her
bosom and lay beside her. I had often no
ticed a small gold chain round her neck,
which, descending into the folds of her dress
was lost to view; but little fancying what
was appended to it, I had thought it intru
sive on my part to ask what was on the end
of the chain. And she had called me Flank
too, for the first time in her life. "Oh, what
a inr...wr groaned I. Welt. I dashed water
in bar lace. In the course of a few min-
*1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; 82,00 IF. .NOT IN ADVANCE
utes she came round, sat op, reph.ced my
picture and the locket. Her eyes encoun
tered mine: for a very brief space of time
we gazed steadily at each other. For °ace
in my life I was fairly at a loss to know
what my eyes said. She quickly recovered.
"Let us walk," she said, "It will do me
good."
Up and down the garden we sauntered
for a short tune, talking of my wedding, she
congratulating me, I answering in monosyl
lables, and wishing myself anywhere but
there. As soon as poseible I said good
morning, and went out at the garden-gate.
It were impossible, otherwise I should like
to analyze the way in which we shook hands
with each other.
"Cab, sir?"
"Yes," replied I, opening the door and
shutting myself in.
"Where to, sir?"
"Oh, Jericcol" replied I.
And, now, being alone, I began to medi
tate. Middy loved me to distraction, that
was clear; aye, and loved me, too, in the
fullest, truest sense of the word, purely and
forever. Now fur self-examination.
"Where to, sir, did you say:" interrupted
cabby, putting his ugly frontispiece round
to the rciudotv.
"Jeriehur replied I, angrily. Can't you
hear?"
Cabby shuffled on ills coat, lashed the
horse, scratched his head—lasheil she horse
again. Now fur self-exittnination. And
least the reader should have his or her cu
riosity excited, and take me for a patent fool
let me at once say that 1 have nit been a
barrister for twenty year. , without having a
wholesome dread of putting myself in a wit
ness-box. My self-examinations and ans
wers I keep to myself. Suffice it to say, I
have been married fourteen vests and have
eight children: but, as my incame is not
large, I should have been just as well pleased
with four, if the other four had not come.—
Each child, however, has added a fresh link
to the chain that binds me closely to my at
fectionate wife, and were she on trial, I defy
the united abilities of a hundre I horse-power
attorney-general and ditto solicitor-general
to elicit from her that I have been anything
but in word or deed, a most kind, tender,
and attached husband.
Owing to a crowd of vehicles wo came to
a stand still in Oxford street.
"I say, Bill," exclaimed my driver to a
brother Jehu, "have you ever heard of Jeri
cho? Where is it? Gent inside wants to
go there."
"Can't say Jim," responded whip No. 2,
"unless it be smack through the city, or
other side of the water. Try 'em both and
swear you have lost your way."
This recalled me to my senses, and made
me think of the insane address I had given
to my driver.
"Cabby, I will go to the Temple instead
of Jericho."
"All right, sir," said he, evidently much
relieved, and such is the sympathy between
man (when a good driver)and beast, that
the horse evidently was much relieved.
My long-lived relation, I need hardly say,
did not die that bout, and another season
saw Middy and myself again in town to
gether. Wo met, we were friends, talked to
each other, sometimes rode together, but
neither of us ever alluded to the garden
scene. Each clearly wished, each as evi
dently dreaded so to do. Somehow or other
I was obliged, as I explained to Lady Clan
mer and herself to apply more steadily to
my increasing practice. Somehow or other,
too, when I called, Middy occasionally was
not nt home, pleading when we met indis
position as her excuse for not receiving me.
The chain still hung round her neck:
whether or not its appendages were there I
could not tell.
“Towards the end of the seasanS 144 my
relation at length departed this life. In the
following autism my bride and mytelf enter
ed on our new life end went abroad. Cardq,
of course, were sent to Lady Clanmer. On
our return, I found, forwarded to our new
house in Curzon street, Mayfair, from my
chambers in the Temple, Middy's wedding
cards.
Thank goodness she has got over it at last,
thought I. She had married the eldest son of
a Scotch peer. I knew him. A kind, hon
est, straightforward man, but not over-gifted
wisdom. lie and his wife lived in Scotland.
hardly ever coming to London. Once after
we were both married, Middy and I met.
I danced with Ler. The chain was still
round her neck. lam afraid to say how
deeply I drank that night at supper, with
out being in the slightest degree intoxicated.
Port wine had as little effect on me as water.
Occasionally, on the birth of one of my chil
dren, congratulatory letters passed between
her and me. She poor thing. had no chil
dren. Every Christmas brought us a hunt
er of grouse from Scotland; every Christmas
took from Curzon street a cod,e bead and
shoulders, oysters, 4ke., directed to Middy's
husband. Those presents also occasioned
a biennial interchange of letters.
People say that all married persons have
a secret corner in their hearts, not at all of
necessity a guilty one, which th'y never, by
any chance, betray to their partners for life.
May be so. All I know is that I never told
my wife of my antecedents in connection
with Middy.
•"On the 25th inst., agovl tsentyris, owing
to a fell Cram her horse, Evalion, the beloved
site of---"
I started, dropped the 2V.mes. Good gra
[WHOLE NUMBER 1,6_21.
cious! poor Middy then, is dead. ' Hastily- I
looked around—my wife was not in the room.
Tne paper, properly folded, WWI quickly
placed on the table and off I went to my
chambers. Presently I heard a great fuSs
in my ante-room, and my clerk's voice ex
postulating in no mild terms:
"You can't come in. Well, I tell you,
you shan't come in. My master, Mr. Stan
house, won't be disturbed by tho lik e of you."
I rang my boll.
"Who is that?"
"Some poor woman, sir. Sho says she
must and will see you herself. I have
threatened to give her into custody, but she
won't go away, and won't tell me her busi-
nese."
"What is she like?"
"I can hardly tell, but I thiuk, air, shele
a Scotch-wotnan."
"Show her in."
In The came, and asked me if I eras indeed
Mr. Counsellor Stonhouse, then would I just
open that parcel ant see if all was right, -I
recognized Middy's writing, and opened the
packet with trembling hands:
"It is all right." said I, offering the woman
a sovereign, and adding, "can 1 do any thing
else for you?"
"No, sir; many thanks to yon, hot my
traveling expenses have been paid, and as
for the rest I would do anything in thowido
world fur that dear gndo teddy, who, when
alive, was so kind to me and my pair bairns."
With that she departed. Again my belt
sounded, and the clerk, on intruding his in
quisitive face, was told, "Do not lot me ho
disturbed on any account for the next hour."
The last words I heard before settling
down to my reverie were:
"My good woman' why could you not
give me that parcel instead of taking it to
Mr. Stonhouso yourself?"
"Gang to the deil wi' ye, ye Geld, rule;
do ye think that packet way for the likes of
ye to handle; ha, ha, yo auld fule."
Tho door was indignantly klacomed.—
Poor Middy had chosen a coarse-tongued
but faithful messenger. Tho packet con
tained a letter, my picture, a song, end the
chain and locket.
The letter was written of course under the
most highly excited feelings, if not actually
under the influence of delirium. I put it,
the picture, and the song into my fire. The
burden of the song (I bad often heard her
sing it)was, "IVill she love you as I de?"
The locket I dropped into the Thames that
night. The c hain my eldest daughter wore
round her neck. In my pocket-book I have
the tress of hair she gave me in the railway
carriage when under such strange circum
stances we first met.
Frank had finished. Fur a quarter of an
hour neither of us spoke. It was dark'. I
could not see his face, Once I heard his
mutter "Poor, poor Middy." It might hare
been poor dear Middy. lam not sure:—
Tears,l fancied, were trickling down his
cheeks. Nut in the slightest degree from n
wish to hurt or annoy him, but more from
carelessness and heedlessness than anything
else, I thought r would try and ascertain his
real feelings. In a few mammal he said:
"Any more wine, Charle,f"
"No, thank you," replied I; "but, Fronk,
I say, did you ever read Ivanhoe, and do
you remember just at the end, where Walter
Scott says, with reference to Ivanboo,•Rc
becca, and Rowena, that—"
I had gone too far.
"Temple," said ho sharply, addressing
me by my surname, "Sou said you would
haTO no moro wine; if you are not going to
the ladies, I am."
He moved towards tho door, but returned,
took my hand, squeezed it and said, "Charlie,
I did not mean to be so abrupt. I hardly
knew what I was saying. I feel a little ret
lieved at having told you this chapter of my
life; but mind" whispered he, almost fiercely,
"mind, never allude to what I have to-night
related."
We went up-stairs— Frank g king Beret—to
his dressing-room, probably to wash away
traces of emotion. A quarter of an hour
later, with his rich tenor voice, he was join
ing in some merry glee. As I looked at him,
I thought how little sometimes do our near
est and dearest relations and friends .know
of what passes beneath the surface. Oh,
how little did I conjecture what was coming
when first I heard the commencing words
of the story, 'Tray, air, are you a gentle
man?"
PRICE OF OLD ALDERREI4.-A good thing
is going Ow rounds about ono of our new
aldermen, which is related in this wise:
The grand jury summoned Ald. be
fore them, for the purposo of asking him
some questions, lie c.iine before them, and
the following convereation occurred:
"Ald. —, has any one over offered you
any money, in the shape of a bribe, since
your election?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who was it?" said one of the grand jury.
"flow much did he offer you?" inquired
one of the other jurors.
"Twenty-fire dollars," responded the
aldarman, with a curl of his lip.
"Did you take it," said the foreman. •
(Em ph a tically)—"No, sirl"
Mr. —, the briber. was sent for.
"Mr. —, did yon offer Aid. twenty
fire dollars as a bribe fur voting so aud so?",
"Yes, sir."
"Did he take it?"
"No. air."
"Why didn't he take it?" said an. of the ,
jurors. much surprised.
"Weil, he said that he couldn't eel! him- •
-.lf for twenty fire , I,,llare, us dirat azerfas
e n/ o , I alder asta—lit e ACtO OMB imp
)41,0er!"—Yeio Fork Despatch.
IMI
CHARLE7 TexPLE