'l l- 7.L 1 ..' 'CO''''' - t - ILIJ' . .'( - .;: -. .:11, -. -....'... '.'...:::.'-: 43ANCIEL WEIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXXIII, NUMBER 43.3 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY MORNING. Office in Carpet Hall, North-westeorner of I Rent and Locust streets. Terms of Subscription. 412tte.CoPyperannum,i f paidin advance, if not paid within three monthsfrora commencemeniofthe year, 200 Cboxi.tiEs ocazo3r. - Nos utiscripiion received torn less time than six months; and no paper will be discontinued until all tirrearagesarc paid ,unlessat-the option° f t he pub isher„ ici-Moneyma yberemittedbmail aithepublisli et -3 risk. Rates of Advertising. qua rt [6 Inee]one week, +OOO At three weeks, 75 enelt‘absequen 'insertion, 10 12 inesioneweek. SO three weeks, 100 each 4 nlilequeniinaertion. 25 lhargeradvertieement.in proportion Atiberal liseouniwillhe made to quarterly, holt ear lvot olvertisers,who are striell3conlined *their buniaess. IvEttg. Longings. When shall Ibe at rest? M trembling hi-art Grows weary of iw burden. siekenine!Mil With hope deferred Ohd that it were thy will To loose my bonds, and take me where thou art? When shah Ibe at rest? My eyes grow dim With straining through the gloom; I scarce can see The way marks that my Saviour left for me: Would it were now and I were safe with him. When shall Ibe at rent? Hand over hand I grasp, and climb an ever steeper hill, A Tougher path, Old that it were thy will, Ny tired feet might tread the Promised Land Oh that I were at rest! a thousand (bora Come thronging o'er me lest I fail at last. Would I were safe. all toil and danger past, And thine owl, hand might wipe away my tear; Oh that I were at re.it, like some I love. la 4 fohd 1043 drew hall my life nwny, Seeming to plead that either they might Flay With me on ea stii, or I with them above. Bat why then murmar,? Thou did,t never shrink From any toil or weariness for me, Not even from that la-t deep agony; *hail beneath my little trials sink? No, Lord. for when I am indeed at rest, One taste of that deep le ks will quite efface The sternest memories or my earthly race, Save but to swell the sense of being blest. Then lay on me whatever cross I need To bring me there. I know thou enlist not be Unkind, unfaithfu I or untrue to me! Shall I not toil for thee, when thou for me didal bleed? The Dead Prodigal \'es, bear him to hit father's nouse; And on the old familiar bed, %Vlicia first his childhood found repose, From which his boyhood springing rose, Lay gently Ino dishonored head. For him w. 113 no predeetineti prime: , lie was not pure, tier strong, 110 r loge; rassiutt obscured the light , of truth, And brought him age in time of youth, And death instead of tranquil age. Of vice the urgent debt he pail; But shall hi• folly nurse our pride! He sinned avian the gracious Lord, Like you and me—and, self-althorrei, Be sinned against himself, and died Pass by him, man of blood, With shrinking reel and lifted eyes; Von never sinned against your frame, Nor cause of scandal gave, or blame, And he did both—and there he lies. So weak of will, he never strove As some against themselves have striven; So young, so easily beguiled— Ah, was he not a very child, Father to thee, which art in heaven? gritttiono. The Brilliant Keeper. BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE HEIR TO ASHLEY." It was a comfortable room, even for the west-end of London. It was not the grand drawing-room of the house; it was not the commodious dining-room, where Sir Philip's patients waited their turn to go into him; it was only a small cozy apartment with a bright fire, easy chairs, and, generally. plenty of litter. For a wonder, it was tidy now; nothing was on the 'centre table, save Lady Annesley's desk, at which she sat writing—a plain, pleasant woman of forty, wearing weeds yet. The late Sir Robert, a popular and successful physician, had risen in the world and got his baronetcy; but this had been his second wife. On a low sofa, near the firo, • sat an old lady—a cheerful, nice old lady, in spite of her blindness and her eighty-four years.— She would tell you, could you speak with her, that God had seen fit to take her dear eon, Sir Robert, and had spared her. Upon ber lap was a bag made of white linen, re sembling a pillow-case, but not so large; and she.was stuffing it with handfuls of pa pertorii into minute bits. Since she be • came blind she was wont to employ some of liar time in tearing up Waste paper, news papers and the like, to stuff cuehions. Ma ria Carr, Lady Alinesley's nieco, was at the' far window, making a case for this cushion; two square pieces of white velvet. on each of which was painted an exquisite frpop of flowers, Maria's doing. The cush ion was intended fol. a present for Mary Annesley, who. was on the point of marriage 'with Dr. Scott. She had.gone out now with the late Sir Robert Annesley's ward, Geor gina Livingston, who lived with them. Mre. Annesley looked op from her cash ion end her bite of 'paper—if it be alloWable to .say that of one who has no,sight; but - when , sheepoke to people she was in the habit of turning her.face in the direct;oa she thought they might be, agahe had done -before., the darkness had oome on: t "What ntOut Charley'? going to chtirch? Is it de !pi .!cell, I ii.t9P 3l e - I:m7kr 44.1"Rellik *ye • %.•:,•• ; „; stopped. The door had hastily opened, and a gentleman entered—a tall, fine man.— But for the sweet smile that frequently ei parted his lips and lighted up his dark blue eyes, his features might have been deemed plain. And yet ladies were apt to say that Sir Philip Annesley, being unmarried, was too attractive for a medics" men. "is that Philip?" 11l 50 "Myself, and nobody else, grandmamma;" for Sir Philip sometimes, half in sport, ad dressed her by tho old familiar title of his boyhood. "Who will lend mo a finger!" "A finger!" echoed Lady Annesley.— "What for? Ask Maria." Maria laid down her velvet, and came forward. Sir Philip opened a little square box, and taking out a ring, passed it on to the third, or wedding-finger of her left hand, She stood before him, perfectly quiet in mo tion and bearing, but blushing to the very roots of her hair. Two thin chains of gold crossed and re-crossed each other, enclosing a brilliant between each crossing,-twelve brilliants in all, small, but of the first water —a jewel of rare beauty, remarkably light and elegant. "Philip, what a beautiful ring!" uttered Lady Annesley. "Yes; it took my fancy. Mary will like a keeper, and Scott, in his absent fashion, is sure not to think of one. Lucky, I say, if be remembers the wedding-ring. It is too large; is it not, Maria?" "Much too large for a keeper. Mary would require another ring to keep this one on." "I ought to have chosen the smaller one," said Sir Philip. "There is another, just like it, only less in size. I'll' take this one back and change it." "It must have cost a good deal?" said Lady Annesley. "Pretty well. Forty-eight guineas." Mrs. Annesley lifted her hands in dismay. "Oh, Philip! Forty-eight guineas for a ring! It seems next door to a sin. Your father, my dear, would have looked twice at a quarter of the money before giving it." He crossed the room and put the keeper into her hand, bending down to her, and speaking gently: "Feel itgrandmother; it really is a beauty. I know the sum is large; but we do not give away Mary every day." Mrs. Annesley passed her fingers over the ring, after the manner of the blind, and handed it back to him. "Philip, when do you intend to buy a wedding keeper on your own account? Ever?" That sweet smile of his rose to his lips, and perhaps the least tinge of color to his face. "A doctor has no time to think of such things." "No time!" returned the old lady, taking the remark literally. "I think he has as much time for it as other people. Where there's a will there's a way. Philip, do you know that you are in your thirty-fifth year?" "And do' ou know also what you patients say?" put in Lady Annesley. They say—" ~ 14~1110 guess: that will do!" interrupted Sir Philip, with a laugh. "If they don't like an unmarried man, they need not come to me. Let them go elsewhere." "Not they." said Lady Annesley, signifi cantly. "Philip, you really ought to marry. Delay it another Om years, and your chil dren will he growing up when you are an old man. I wish you would: it would set my mind at rest." "At rest from what?" asked Sir Philip in a hasty and somewhat sharp tone. "Oh, we.l; I am not going to explain," answered Lady Annesley. "At rest in more ways than one." "Provided,d presume, that I married to please you," cried Sir Philip, who fully un derstood the by-play. "Of course not to please me, Philip—l am nobody. To please Year sisters, and to please the world." "Terrible if I married only to please my self, would it not be, Lady Annesley?" be laughed. lie had never called her "mother;" at one time had studiously called her "Lady An nesley." -Four-and-twenty years of ago when his father married this, his second wife, Philip, in his inmost heart, had re belled at the union. They all had, at first; ' but they learnt to like her in time. The girls were married now, save Mary, who would be the last. [The Plana. "It is no joking matter, Philip. What a nice rose that is in your button-hole!" con tinued Lady. Annesley. "Where did you get it?" "Out of 3lrs. Leigh's coneetratory"•—iue replied, taking it from his coat—a magnifi cent rose, beautiful.as a samelia—"she se duced me into it just now, when I was at her house." "Is her daughter better?" "No, poor girl. And I fear—" Sir Philip did not say what he feared.— Eta was not one to spea's, at home, of his patients. In the silence that supervened a servant appeared. "Lady Oliver, air." Sir Philip nodded; stood a moment or two as if in thought; then prepared to descend: "Will you put this up for me?" be said, giving the diamond keeper to Lady Annee ley eike rimed her. "I willcbange it when I go,ont.j These,. Maria! a present for you." lice huctiLthe. white rose into Maria's lap. She,did not touch.it, only let it lie there, her cheeks again glowing hot. Lady An ;leaky knitted her,brow. - , But it cleared as her eyes fell on the ring. "You had better try them," said Maria. But she spoke the words without thought, and felt, the moment they had left her lips, that she bad rather have bitten out her tongue than uttered them. "But the flitting from the house of all of you, what a trouble it would bel" returned he in a tone of much remonstrance. 6 'l don't know that every one of you would have to go, though," he continued, while the too conscious crimson dyed her face, and she played nervously with the gold cord. "Certainly not, if Lady Annesley had her way," ha resumed. Maria, astonished at the words, glanced at him in amazement.— "Don't you see it all, Maria!" "I: 110,1r:di4.41.0amgr.ittgaz.bacatyl" she . "See whatr she exclaimed. "NO ENTERTATNMENTIS SO CHEAP AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING. MAY (.24, 1862. enthusiastically exclaimed, as she slipped it several times on and off her finger; "but what a judge Philip must have been to get it so large as this! "Who is this coming up?" It was Charles Carr, Maria's brother, pop ularly known in the house as "Charley." A young liententint he: gay, careless and hand some. Often in scrapes, always in trouble; deep in debt, in "bills," in many things that he ought not to be; altogether, a gen tleman who was believed to be going to the bad headlong, especially by Lady Annesley. Ile was her own nephew, her dead brother's son; and he came to the house, presuming upon the relationship and upon Maria's res idence in it, oftener than Lady Anneslay liked. A great fear was at her heart that be had grown tno fond of Georgina Living ston, or that Georgina had of him—perhaps , both. Her penniless nephew who had not cross or coin to bless himself with, steal Georgina and her nine hundred a year! The world would talk then—nould say that she, Lady Annesley, had planned And Lady Annesley was remarkably sensitive to the world's censure. Charley glittered in, in full regimentals; ono of the handsomest young fellows that had ever bowed before Her Majesty nt St. James'. And ho had no objection that somebody else should see him and think so. "Where's Georgina?" naked he. "Georgina's out,"snappishly replied Lady Annesley. "What are you dressed up fur?" "I have just come from the Levee. Did you forget it?" he returned, taking up me chanically the little jewel-box and opening it. Charley's fingers had a trick of touch ing things, and be often got a rap on the knuckles for it, literally and metaphorically, from my lady. "What a splendid ring!" he uttered. "Sir Philip's present to Mary. But it is to be changed, it is too large." Charley put it on his little finger and turned it round admiringly; as they had all done. "A charming ring!" he ropes ted.— "It is really beautiful!" 'To you wish it were yours?" laughed Mafia, from her distant window. "I wish I had the cost of it," lie said.— "That would be of more use to me. What was it? Fifty guineas?" "Not a bad guess," said Lady Annesley, who really liked Charley, and his good looks, and his good nature, au fond, when she could forget the fear and trouble touching Miss Georgina. They stood together, singing praises of the ring; now she had it on—now he. Lady Annesley at length took it from him—and held it over the box, as if taking a farewell of it before she dropped it in. "Oh dear!" cried out Mrs. Armesley. Lady Annesley hastily put the lid on, left the box on the tnble by Charley, and ran to her mother-in-law. The old lady had let the sack fall upon the hearth-rug, and some of the ammunition was falling out. "Don't trouble yourself, my dear," she said, as Lady Annesley began pushing it in. "Put it on my lap again; I won't be so clumsy a second tithe. It is nearly full, you see." Lady Annesley did as requested, and re turned to the table. Charley, restless Char ley, was then standing by Maria, and the two were whispering together. Lady An nesley took a sheet of fair white paper and wrapped up the little box, without again looking in it, lighted a wax match and sealed it. "Well, I must be off," cried Charles.— "Shall you bo at home this evening?" "I shall," laugLed grandmamma, frcm her place on the sofa. "I don't suppose many of the others will be out." She had not penetrated Lady Annesley's fear; and Charley was a wonderful favorite of hers. "Look, Maria," said Lady Annesley, as they heard Charley and his sword clattering down the stairs four at a time—"l will put it here. If Philip should come for it, you can tell him where it is." She lifted the lid of her desk and put in the little box; then approached Mrs. An: nesley and took hold of her arm to lend her from the room. •"We shall have no drive to-day. unless we make haste. Maria will finish that." '•it's finished, nll but tacking," said the old lady; "it is as full as it ought to be.— Muria, my dear, come and do it at once." Maria carried her velvet to the sofa, and set about completing the cushion, kneeling down for convenience sake. She had got the velvet cover on to it, and was beginning to put round the gold cord and to sew on the tassels, when Sir Philip entered. He rested his arms on the back of the sofa, and looked down at her and her work—a fair girl she, with a gentle face. 4 'l wonder if folks would send me pres ents if I set up housekeeping on my own score?" he cried. "Nay, I shall not tell you. So much the better if you have not seen it. I thought it had been patent to the house. My vanity may be in error after all." "What do you mean, Sir Philip?" Ile was gazing hard at her with his deep ,blue eyes—vain and saucy enough they were just then. She felt herself completely at sea. "Give me your opinion, Maria? If I did set up housekeeping for myself, do you think that any oue of you could be induced to stop' and help me in it?" Her heart beat violently—her eyes fell. The gold chord irrber fingers was wreathing itself into knots. Sir Philip came round and laid his hand upon her shoulder as she knelt, making her turn her face to him. "Because I may be asking the question some day. Do you know where Lady An nesley put the ring?" She sprang up. She opened the desk, and gave the parcel to him, sealed as Lady Annesley had left it. Ile slipped it into his waistcoat pocket, went down to his brough am, and drove off. In less than twenty minutes he was back again, and came flying up the stairs as fast as Charley Carr had down down them. "A pretty simpleton you made me, Maria! —giving me an empty box!" "An empty box!" she echoed. Ile took the box out of his pocket, and held - it open before her. "I told the man I had brought back the ring to exchange for the smaller one, opened the box, all gingarly, to hand it to him, and behold! there. was nothing in it." "Did you drop it in the brougham? Did you open it in the brougham?" she reiter ated. "I never touched it, after you saw me put it in my pocket, until I was in the shop.— I unsealed the paper beforo the shopman's eyes." "Then where can it be?" exclaimed Ma ria. "Lady Annesly certainly sealed it up, and put it herself in the desk ready for you. No ono went near the desk afterwards—no one came into the room, but myself." "Lady Annesley must have sealed up an empty box, that's clear," said Sir Philip. "I have brought the other ring." But Lady Annesly, when she entered, protested that she had not sealed up an empty box—that the ring was in it. And she related the details to Sir Philip, as they have been given above. The box, she said, was not out of her hand a minute altogether. "Are you sure you put it in?—that you did not lot it slip aside?" questionel Sir Philip. "Surer repeated Lady A.nnesley. half inclined to resent the implied suggestion of carelessr.ess. "I am quite sure. And, had the ring slipped aside, it would have gone on the table. I put it in safely, and shut it in." "Who was in the room beside yourselves?" asked Sir Philip. "Only Charley Carr. Ho was standing by me, wishing that the ring were his." "No," cried out Mrs. Annesley, inno cently; "wishing its value in money was his. The more sensible wish of the two." A wild, sickening sensation darted to Maria Carr's brain. It was not yet a sus picion; it was a fear lest suspicion should come; nay, a foreboding that it was coming. The suspicion did come; came immedi ately to all of them. In vain Sir Philip suggested that Charles must have done it in a joke, to put Lady Annesley in a fright, for he was as full of tricks as a monkey— that lie would - bring it back with him in the evening. That he had taken the ring from the box there was no doubt whatever; and Lady Annesley, in her anger, refused to be soothed. She attacked Charles the moment he made We appearance. "Where's the keeper?"— she sternly demanded, without circumlocu tion. - "What keeper?" returned Charles. "The brilliant keeper, that you made off with to-day." "I don't know what you mean, Aunt." Lady Annesley flew into a rage. "I left the box close to your hands when I turned to pick up the cushion for Mrs. Annesley.— "Row dared you take the ring out?" "Let me see whether I have got it about me," retorted Charley, in a careless, indif ferent, provoking manner, as he made a show of feeling in all his pockets. "Oh—l must have left it in my regimentals." Lady Annesley nearly boiled over. Words led to words. Charles - grew angry in his turn; and at length she gave a hint that he must have stolen the ring. Ile declared he had not touched the box or ring; that he had turned from the table when Lady An nettley did, and remained talking to Maria while the cushion was being picked up; and he swore to this with sundry unorthodox words, forgetting that he was not in quar ters but in a lady's drawing-room. "If nobody takes his part, I will!" hotly cried Georgina Livingston, after Charles had dashed away from the house, promising that he'd never enter it again; and her countenance was distressed, and her cheeks were scarlet, as sho said it. "Steal a ring! You may just as well accuse me, Lady An nesley, as accuse him; I should be the more likely of the two to do it." "Do, pray, recollect yourself, Georgina!" remonstrated my lady. "Is this avowal seemly for a young girl?" "I don't care whether it's seemly or un seemly," responded MiseVbergina, dashing sway some tears. "Tau ought to be. ashamed of yourselves, all of you! Because Charley happens not to be made of money, you turn against him, and think he'd take it. I'll let him know that /don't." Hot words, hotly spoken. A few days, and even Georgina was obliged to judge him less leniently. Sir Philip chose quietly to investigate the suspicion; and he ascertained that Charles had, the very evening subse quent to the loss of the ring, and the follow ing day, paid sundry small debts, for which he had been long dunned. Twenty pounds, at least, of these payments were traced, and then Sir Philip dropped the search. Why pursue it? It was all too clear, for Charles hnd no resources of his own to draw upon. But here Maria stepped in to his defense. She protested with earnestness, with tears, that the had furnished him herself with twenty pounds; that she had given it to him in that moment when they were whispering together. She knew Charley's wants, she said, and had been saving this money up for him. Lady Annesley flatly contradicted Maria. It did not stand to reason, she con tended, that Mrria, with her poor means , could save up twenty pounds, or even ten. The thing was almost against possibility; and Maria fell under nearly as great a ban as her brother, for attempting to screen him by falsehood. There were moments when, in her own sick heart, Maria did believe him to be guilty. Such things have been heard of in the world—done in the reckless- ness of necessity. * * * * * * * A twelvemonth passed away: •and a twelve month brings changes. Georgina Livings ton was of age now, and at liberty to choose her own residence. She was alone in the drawing room one April evening. Mrs. An nesley was much confined to her chamber, and Lady Annesley had gone up to her.— Sir Philip came in. "Alone, Georgina! Why! what is the matter?—crying?" "Oh, Lady Annesley set me on!" was the young lady's pettish rejoinder, as she brush ed the tears away. "She was angry with me for 'moping,' as she called it; and I told her I would not stay hero to be grumbled at." "Why do you mope?" he asked. "Because I choose," was the wilful retort "I can leave now if I like, you know Philip." "If you like—yes," assented Sir Philip. "Where should you go?" "I don't know, and I don't much care," dreamily responded Georgina. "Would you like to remain in the house for good?" resumed Sir Philip, after a pause. "I was thinking of asking you to do tio." A faint blush rose to her face, but she showed no other emotion; and his tone, con sidering the momentous words, was wonder fully calm. Perhaps both had been con scious for some little time that these words would bo spoken. Sir Philip bent his head towards her. "The world has reproached me with not marrying. Help me, Georgina, to put the reproach away! There is no one I would ask to be my wife but pia." "Look here, Philip!" she exclaimed, push ing back her hair, and turning her face, full of its own eager excitement, towards him— excitement not caused by him. "I'll speak out the truth to you; I eoul•l not to every one; but you are good, and true, and noble. Were I to say to you, 'Yes,' and let you take me believing that I loved you, I should just be acting a lie. I love some one else; lam trying to forget him with my whole heart and might—but I did love him." "Who was this?" "Charles Carr." Sir Philip's blue eyes flashed with a pe culiar light, and he looked into the fire—not at Georgina. "That love ought to end," he said. "It can bring you no good." "Don't I tell you that it has ended—that ram putting it from me as fast as ever I can? But the remembrance cannot go from me all at once. I did love him; and I be lieve it was your generosity, in hushing up his dreadful disgrace, instead of proclaiming it and prosecuting him, that first made we like you more than common." "You acknowledge then that you do like me?" smiled Sir Philip. "Yes—very much." "Well enough to take me for better and for worse?" "Yes; if after this confession you would still wish it." "I do," ho answered, drawing her to him, and taking his first kiss from her lips.— Georgina flew to her room, and there burst into a flood of tears. Lady Annesley was strangely elated at the news. She had hoped for it in her in most heart—long and long. "You have done well, Itilip," she said to her stop-son. "I shall escape the worrying about not getting married, at any rate," responded Sir Philip. "Philip"—lowering her voice coofidenti ally—"do you know I frightened myself to death. at one time, lest you should marry Maria. I fancied you were growing attached to her; and people would have said I set it on." The red color flashed into Sir Philip's face. "I should have married her, but for that affair of the diamond keeper." Lady Annesley looked hlane.. "Did you like her so much as that?" "Like herl" be echoed with emotion—"l loved her. I am not sure but I love her $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2,00 IF NOT IN RDVANCI. still. Why, Lady Annesley, I all but asked her to be my wife the very afternoon that wretched boy did the mischief." "I'm sure I em very glad be did do it, if it prevented that," retorted my lady. "I might have got over that—his fault; but I could not get over Maria's. To up hold him in his deceit—to invent a falsehood to screen him—how could I make her my wife?" • "Whatever is there about Maria to like?" fretfully interrupted Lady Amesley. She's inure likeable than any ono elso in this world, to my thinking—" "Hush, Philip!" The news of the engagement went forth to the house. Maria had still remained in it milking herself useful, as she had done before, especially to Mrs. Annesley, for she had no other home. Better she had quitted it—to see Sir Philip every day was not the way to cure her love for him. "I hope you will be happy, Sir Philip, I wish you every happiness," she stammered, believing it was incumbent on her to say something to him to that effect. But Sir Philip observed that her face turned ghastly with emotion as she spoke. "Thank you; 1 hope we shall be,"-he cold ly replied; and, since that unhappy episode, ho had never spoken to her but coldly.— "Georgina Livingston posseises one great essential towards making herself and others happy—truth." The preparation for the wedding went briskly on. Lady Annesley would first re move into another residence. No change had been made since Sir Robert's death, but Sir Philip must have his house to him self now. One evening Sir Philip was spending an hour with Dr. Scott. A navy surgeon was also there—Mr. Blake, once their chum at St. Bartholomew's; and Geor gina was sitting up stairs with Mary Scott and her baby. "Is smoking allowed here?" asked the surgeon, glancing at the elegant sofa on which he sat, where was displayed that beautiful cushion painted by Maria Carr.— "I'm half dead without my pipe." Receiving assent he lighted it, and then walked across the room to Sir Philip and the doctor, who stpod at the window. There was some disturbance in the street, and they all three remained there chatting and look ing out. Suddenly a burst of light up in the twi light of the room, and they wheeled round in consternation. A blaze was ascending from the velvet cushion. They cane . tup the hearth-rug and succeeded in putting out the fire. Georgina Livingston, hearing the confusion, came in with a white face. In lighting his pipe, Mr. Blake must hare suffered a spark to fall upon the cushion.— There it had smouldered, penetrating at length to the stuffing, which then blazed up. You may remember that it consisted of paper. "Oh, that lovely cushion!" lamented Geor gina. "What's this?" uttered Dr. Scoot, picking up something bright and glistening from the ashes. "If I don't believe it's a ring!" A ring it was. The lost, the beautiful, the brilliant keeper. The eyes of Sir Philip and Georgina met. Maria was that same evening sitting alone —she and her breaking heart. It had felt breaking ever since that cloud fell upon it. She hoard Sir Philip come home—and she began gathering her work together. Don't run away, Maria; I have something to toll you." She looked at him in wonderment. His voice wore the same loving tone as in days gone by; a tone long past, for her. "Lend me your hand, Maria!" And, with out waiting for assent, he took it in his, the left hand, and slipped upon the third finger, as he had done once before, the diamond keeper. "Do you recognize it?" "It is Mrs. Scott's" replied Maria. Why have you brought it here, Sir Philip?" "It is not Mrs. Scott's; it is larger than hers. Do not remove it, Maria. It shall be your own keeper, if you will let me add the wedding-ring. . Confused, bewildered, wondering what it meant, wondering at the strangely loving expression that gleamed on her from his dark blue eyes, she burst into tears. Was be saying this to mock her? No! not to mock her! No! Sir Philip wound his arms round her as ho told the tale; ho drew her face to his breast, his eye lashes glistening in the intensity of his emo tion. "I can never lot you go again, my darling! Ido not ask your forgiveness, I know that you will give it me unasked, fur you and I alike have been miserable." "Charley innocent—been innocent all this while?" rho gasped. "Ile has, in good truth! We must try and make it up to him. I—" "Oh, Philip!" she in terrupted,vvi th stream- ing eyes, "you will believe me now! I did give him the twenty pounds—l did, indeed! I had saved in so many trifles—l had made old gowns look like new ones—all for him. You should not have doubted me, if the rest did." "My wbole life eball atone to you, Maria," be softly gbispered. "Georgina—" She broke from him, her cheeks flushing crimson. In the moment's bewilderment she had entirely forgotten his engagement to Georgina; Ile laughed merrily, his eyes dancing, and drew her back again. "Never fear that I am abodt to turn blor mon and marry you both! Georgina has given me op.' Maria. In the excitement [WHOLE ATIMIBERI,6S7. caused by the discovery she spoke her mind . out to me, that she did not like me; ith ail her 'trying' half as well nq she did Charley Carr, and that none but Charley should be her husband. Scott has gone to tell Charles the news, and bring him up. If—" "What on earth is this?" ejaculated Lady Annesley, as she came in and stood like ono petrified. , "It's this"' replied Sir Philip, holding oat - Maria's hand, on which shown the brilliant keeper. "This mischiermaking ring ha, turned up ngein. When you held it that day over the open box, and Mix. Annealley celled you out, there can be no doubt that you, in tho hurry, unconsciously slipPed_ii on your finger, instead of into the box, and lost it off your finger again immediately amidst the paper stuffing. The cushion hai just given up its prey." . Lady Annesley sank upon the first seat, with a very crest-fallen expression. "I never heard of such a thing!" she stammer ed. "Mj finger! Whatever will be tho .. consequence? Poor Charley!" _ "The consequence, I expect, will be,- that you will have two weddings instead of ono:" laughed Sir Philip. "Georgina" has — p - rOL claimed her intentions, and I don't supPoea Charley will bear malice. I think I ought to have given the ring to him as a memento; instead of to Maria," "To Maria!" irascibly returned La3,k Ail;. nesley, not precisely understanding, •fititnrit feeling comfortable. "What in the s , orld need is there to give it to her, Sir Ear' "Great neod," he replied, his tone beirbit4 2 ing serious. "But it is given with - a ebrii dition attached to it--that I add °rft or plain gold. Ah, Lady Annesleyl we cannot' be false to ourselves, try as wo trill. Maiia has remained my best and dearest - loro - up to this hour, cajole and deceive my hert : Tt:as I would. And now, I trust, she will remains so, as long as timo shall last!" THE POONANCIS— A NAT107,.7 WITH Mum' —ln the Dutch Byblad for September; I 880; occurs a description of the different nations/ inhabiting Borneo, with a notice reepeatini the tribe of the Poonjyngs, which, otineconnt of the singular peculiarity to which the:nci thor refers, I think too remarkable for' - cli= livion. The article is inserted in a serioue periodical, and I have no reason whatevii to doubt of its veracity. It relates - es fool= lows: "The Poonangs are very shy, and reside in the most interior part of Borneo: And no wonder they are rarely met with, for as soon as they are frightened by the ap pearance of something out of the way, they hide behind the trees, and kill every .being' that come under boar of their blow ylipO.- 7 They have a most ugly look." In statute and color they aro much the same 'as the* Bassaps, but their forehead is more indented, their face more prominent, and their Month' exceedingly wide. They .speak a language.' which had no affinity nt all with the tongues used by the other tribes, and only consists' of monosyllabic sounds. But the most re; markable feature of all is, that they- haie; tails like the animals, and which are longer in one individual than the other; - whilst those of the females are very short and of a softer kind than with the males. The com mon size of the appendage is between thrce: and fire inches. Oa the whole, however...* it is hard, stiff and nearly immovable, which• makes sitting an impossibility. To remedy: this defect, or rather this exuberance, the, Poonangs always take with them a wooden. block 'with a hole, and use it as a chair, after' first having carefully put their tail in the perforation. It is said this nation is spread, all over the inland regions of the isle, thokit. I heard the tribe mentioned under another, name in the KoOtee state. The.almri ,, ines of the several dominions, all relate the same,, tale about the Poonangs, and last year-the, suhjects of the Sultan of Gaonang-Tel000r) had the good luck to catch three individual", of the race. Mr. Van . Hontrop, who, just, then was in the Borneo province,. has : leen, and manipulated them; and, after accurate, investigation, he came to the result Abet. their tail was neither a sham nor adisensed excrescence. To persuade me that gentle-- man brought me in contact with several. eye-witnesses, who all testified the same.—, And at Macassar, whore the existence pf, these tailed natives had been long 'held for a, fable, Mr. Van llontrop did all lie could to prove the truth of his relation. The oven . promised the Sultan his services to exert himself as much as possible to catch some Poonangs, and to have them transpeiliW dead or alive, to Macassar, from • vilitaine' they then could be taken to Holland, r aii_ examined by the Aeadonii enceq." Gorrillas the Poonnngs are not, rot. tlifs species of monkey inhabits Africa and' is tailless. - • • AI.4IIRAN SENnr; Zeyst, near Utrecht, Sept. 24 18G0.--; Notes and Queries. TIIE NEW CusxEc-rzcrr SunsEas.-A' good anecdote is told of one of the Cmineeo lent boys. While in conversatit'in'•Withlie rebel, after the capture of ForfPcilliilfr(lfe• latter said, "At' least, with all our fitabfa wo have never made winder' The Yankee, a very demore-loiiltini otokirt - - men, innocently r9plied,'")re:dViiit . miilCi t them 9f wood any langer,"itnirliointiiit ono of the big proje4ileisliink'near,YhiilF . had breached tgefort, maketbeai - nalir of tie7n - 1 1 ,lpice' Is' ft' miwate. oil:ones .11ffirThesebel leadcrthommulentltbelsm badly raieel. .Xhey,ma7,l* . t.ylle: : s3l,lfisg e , cTeViIPI4 2-4 r.r,q 1 9F,1 1 21 1 #6.4.77 .art) as44o. lie Ell
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