I•- - • • • - . • • . • . . . p 1 • • • • • . • •••• • •;• , •••. • • • • . ••••:- :T i:? • • • .• . r S' . .• . . . • ..SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. & VOLUME XXXIV, NUMBER 18.1 /1 0,- BLISRED EVERY SITURRY MORNING. Office in Carpet Hall, North-west cornerof ,Front and Locust streets. Terms of Subscription Oi‘e Coltyperanrum,i f paidin advance, • • " if no; paid withiiiihree ..monthsfromeommeneementoftheyear, 200 110 , 02:Ltat et. oc•iay. Jo; o. anscrum ton i'eceived to ra less time than mai andinapaper wilt he di4eantm u ed mu it all r r.rrearagesdrepaid,unlessat the optionolthe pub ' trariae 117"IoneY n a ylp 0•0 milledb - ymail a n ttepublish cc rabk. . Rates of Advertising. quar.[a eacs]one week. three weeks. each.uosequenlinsertion, 10 inegionewee Ir. 50 three weeks. I 00 onehlabtequentinsertion. Largeruiveracement.in proportion jk I ibera I liscouit t willbe made to quarterly,li all ea ' iv or rn triyadvertisers,mno are striettpronfined .o their business. U. M. NORTH, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR AT LAW. Columbia, Pa. Collectlons romrtlymade nLancasteiand York Bountres. Columbia,Nay 4,1850. DR. HOPPER, PEFFIST.--OFFICE, Front Strect.4th heir Iromioeum. over Saylor & McDonald's Hook ,to e Colamt n, Pa t E7'Entrance, some a. Jolley's Ph °Mph Ilerv. (Marina 21. ‘R: Harrison's Conmbian Ink 10(7111CU At a superior article, permanently black, 11, and not corroding the pen, can lie laid in any amithy.nt the Family Medicine chore, and blacker wet to that English Boot Polieb. Columbia, Jane 9,1859 Another New Arrival. Tun are opening this day a beautiful line of Lailieo, VV C;ents , and Bov-' wear, which we are offerieg prices to suit the times. STEACY BOWERS, Cor.2d and Lorust Sin. Coln. June 7, ISG2 Nousekeeper's, a Word! 'MT Received, a tall mock of bleached and an d bleached AlluQlina, Tichingq, Checks. Gingham. , and Prints, in a word, everything pertaining to do metric we. Call and examine for yotirxelves. at ST ACV & BOWERS, Could mid I.cieu-4 2515. Cols. June 7, ISO Lawns, Lawns, Lawns. T AMPS e9ll and hCC our beautiful 121 cent Lawns, fu.t colors, at $T F:ACY k 130 Vt , FAA. June 2'4.11412. Oppo-ute Odd renew-' HOOPED SHIRTS. ANI:*.IV and pieta ‘ll,l .1., le of [looped Skirt., ju.t 'received; Also, a full r..oltment of other rayles, very cheap AIALTIW &CASK, Columbia. Apr..l 26, laht Lovu-t 14irec:. Fort SALM, 500'zinek‘ G A. Sall, JOU Suet:4 Ashton Salt ply at APPOLD'S Warehouse, Canal Buda. Columbia. Dee. 1001. NOW FOR BARGAINS. Wit have just received another 101 of rillswool De- Baum. and plaid Alositininques. Which we offer at minced price-. Ke.CV& BOW Kits, Coln. June 24, 1.561. Cor. 'Nand Locust Ft.. VOLD CRE.III OF GLYCERINE.--For the curt ...d i ncvr.ntou 11l chopped hoods, Arc. rot •04 ot the /1.3.) RN MORTAR DRUG STIR 1., Dee 3,18 a Front street. On 1/ NOTICE. TIEC ary.leraiened wrotil.l give motiee that he tamed. lartrufter lo do it ru•li and Will ',ell goon, elf redtteed petrel.. Railroad toen nod cohere who pu.. relVe their pal• monthly, wth be allowed a credit days. 11. F. MU Milt. Oct .12,14,431. SALT! SALT! JIIST received by ihe .utiscri her, u t their store n L. u4t greet below Second. 100 Bags Ground Alum Salt, ed , d win nr sold et the lowe., mu rket nrice4. Cola. Jul> '6l. J. i4ON3 GLASS, GLASS, GLASS ! IUST received, from the manufactory, n large lot of el Mom %Voce. at very low prier.. The place to g et cheap Tumblers to put yoorjellie4 in, 14 STEALY & BOWERS, Oppodle Odd fellows.' Colombia. I'n. ent , ... in NI n. zn2 TO 'llllll LADI.E.o. UTE would cull your special nunnlion In a new mid bentetilui hoe of Ihers Goode we hey" jugt ro crived, at ndueed prices STEAM' & ROWERS, Corner Second son Lo(n‘t Polumbin, May 17. ISI2. Columnin. Tom Thumb About Again! AT Plialiter'it Tin and Viati.e-fitritiOin. Fun., Lei rind .treet.oppn.ite the Bank. he• *Na. luny. are the Vr beet Coal Oil Lbll.l , "• 4 '•'l 4 and examine thew. Bret Coal I Jul ni 25 op., per gelle,.. el t.otomLi•l. Ate 'l7 1 4 112 PJ A II r.r:R.^4 isAzmai; 'roux. notraxm w' Owi The leg chimer for lisrpins. 2500 Pieces Wall Parer, Or our lie-I styles mud quality. yet on hone, whirl , we arr clo-ieg out eta percent. lower iilWl Philn itelphi.v Wholesale Prices. Cull cool es we an• sell ing all - rapillsy H. C. FONDCRSMITII, Adjoiu,•ig the IN tic Coiumbia. Nam), 29.1%2 A NW more of those beautiful fr , uts LAI- lelt, Winch will he 'old cheap, at SAYLOR tic AteDONALDS Columbia. Pa Ap , ii 14 We Have Just Received R. CUTTER'S Improved Chest Eipanding Suspender and Shoulder Mucci. for Gentlemen, and Patent Skirt Supporter and Brace for Ladie., leer the article that is waffled at thin time. Come and see them nt Family Medicine Store. Odd Yellowed tAprit 9.1839 altlllllll, or, Bond's Boston Crackers, for Uyspeptiesould Arrow Root Cracker., for_n.• valid& and children—new articles in Columbia, at the retail) , Redwine Store, April 16. 1659. QrALDINIPS PREPARED GLUE.--The want of tomb ■n arliele is felt in every lumpily, and now it can be supplied; for mending furniture, china, -ware, ornamental work, myc. Mere Is mailaing impeder. We have found it useful in repairing many swamis., which have been useless for months. Yo Jan :Min it Indio ra.outtAz rm I LY POCKET BOOKS AND PURSES. ALARCH: lot of Fine and Common Pocket Rook.; and Purses, at from 15 cent. to two dollnra each,. • Ha tdquarters and News Depot. Colombia. April 14.1 +tlJl._ _ _ plm. I'XEST daticivalf. )1 WirING just received our first NEW SPRING STOCK . we would announce to he eitizentror C,olumblit and vicinity, that it is NOW READY FOR INSPECTION, to all whammy favor on with a call, feeling confident 'we eon offer goods at such „nice. as will induce all to purchase. [l7 - CALL AND SCE TIISSI._ar STEACY A. BOW IntS, • Comer Second and Locurt Street.: Cola. May 3,'51. Oppo.ite Odd Follows' IKOSIZOLIA .1103121117. X. - r ADI its GA; ep. Mimeo* and Iffoya , Haaiary.in fora) 11 vermin notwithetanding doe groat adoe h e e h t t h e prime or geode, we wilt self at oar noun! low !oleo. STEACY dr. BOW KRS. Corner Of Feeond and Loewe s • Can t Jai/ 19,112. Columbia, Pa. rIBXCI l.y lb. bane ball" barrel and quarter .111. bur.el, of the best quAlusen. 'Apply to D. F. A PPOLD. Columbia, July 12.1E02. Canal Basin. cow VINVGARI , ' • iriiß veer ben aitiele . of Vicentr .n the market i• "litlifES ¢ CG'S " PURE CORN VINEGAR." WhiCIO may he had at the hianaltietet.V. in earned *le adjoining Ikea Felltritienalt, pct. 4, , pl, C. C. 51D1F..3 & co „, Autumn Pictures Si so EVENING. The grans is dank with twilight dew; The Sky in throbbing thick with rill re— I ere the never-parted Twin., And guarding them, the wnrrior Mar.; lligh, too, above the dark elm liven, Glitter the sister Pleiades. No foot upon the quiet bridge— No foot upon the quiet road; No bird ntirs in the covert walks; Only the watchman in abroad. rrnin dbuieit gate the inastiff'n bark Comes sounding cheerily thro' the dark 01141 The hazel leaves. Wank velvet now, Rise patterned *gainnt the twilight sky; The restless swallow sleep. at 1114, The ow f utiveila its Woman% eye; Our cottage like a light-house chines prom out Its covering ravines. know above my lamp-lit room The blocky angel Start are watching, O'er the long line of dark-ridged roof, l'ar overgahle end and lb:vetting; And lam I blow the light not —pray, Dear wite, for hint faraway. With hope renewed with frostier love, heart'. return 1111,1 brighter eye., Now illoraing glitter. ill tlu• grass. IVith gladsome thought, 1 'gin to roe. The lawn is blooming dewy gray, Flower-like expatele the golden The robin on the mountai t ash Ilk morning-hymn ting 9 PWCCL to me; Iligh on the tolorio.t twig alone lie calm, clear, and joemidly. The yellow leaves around Win full: From clbitaitt fields the blackbird- cull Otte rose, sit this gray autumn day, Blooms w all u vtentlftt4 fl true, Like oilier (lowers in Flow decoy, Going to whence they CRITIC; Aa swarms of golden lanierflfeu, The dead leaves fill November skies Through cru=eler golden rain of leaves, The market-carts jog by, While morning cloud. go, fraught with 'fight in order through the sky. The tree. with bathed land baled breath, Are waiting.tiletaly for -death. The been nre on the ivy-bloom, Illithe a , in April tiros; The gathering, nwulloovn on the roofs Look t'utaril number clime; Teaching us rill that, proud anti meek, We, too, urother home mura seek. —Chamber's Journal. grlntino. Nary Thorne's Cousin "Mary, I am astonished:" Of course, the grave elder sister was as tonished. In truth, and in fact, she lived in a chronic state of amazement; for Mary Thorne was always doing something to as tonish her friends and relatives. Miss Ruth could hardly credit the evidence of bet own scopes, in the hazy glow of the August morning, when she came out of the clematis windows of the little south porch, and dis covered that yonder moving object, half way up the umbrageous branoes of the huge old pear tree, was not a spray of leaves, nor yet a russet-plumed robin, nor a cluster of sun-eheeked pears swinging in the blue em pyrean, but Miss Mary Thorne comfortably perched in the crook of the gnarled tree, her curls all flecked with the sifted rain of sunshine that came through the shifting canopy of leaves, and a book in her "I don't carer" said the littlo damsel, laughing saucy defiance. "It's the nicest place in the world up here; I feel just like a bird with the leaves fluttering against my face and the wind blowing so softly—and I intend to, stay heft? Wouldn't you like to come up here, Rtithy? It's easily done; just put your foot on that knot, nod—•" Ruth, who was thirty, and weighed a hun dred and sixty pounds, bristled up with amazement. ••Mary Thorne are you crazy? Come down this instant!" "I shan't," said naughty Mary, tossing the silky shower of curls away from her forehead, and glancing down with eyes that shone and sparkled like two blue jewels. "But wo are going—" "Yes, I understand. You are all going in triumphal procession to the depot, to ren der nn ovation to the groat Professor L► Place, the wisest, sagest and grandest of mankind, to whom the Thorne family have the unutterable honor of being second cous ins, and to escort him solemnly to a month's sojourn at Thorn Hall. "0, dear!" ejacu lated Mary. "I wish I could run away some where and hide. I hate this paragon of prim precision! I shan't marry him if he asks, and I mean to behave so badlyithat he won't dream of it! NO, I am not going with you. I hate the close barouche, and it's too warm to ride on horseback. I shall stay at haute!" And Miss Mary settled herself so snugly with one tiny slippered foot swinging down, and her pretty head close to a nest of blue speckled bird's eggs, that Ruth gave it up with a sigh of despair. =1 "Well, then, have it your own way, you incorrigible romp! I wish you weren't too big to be abut up in a dark closet, or hare your ears well boxed!" "It is a Rity, isn't it," said Mary demure ly. "OE course it is, Mary; if cousin Tom Bradley comes this morning, be sure and explain to him why we are absent, and be have like a young lady, mind?" "All right," said Mary danntleisly. "I always liked Tom!, -ws used Whim grand romps together, when we were children. rilintiog. EMI= "NO ENTERTAINMENT Sa CEA P AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTING." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING. NOVEMBER 29, 1862. She sat there in the old pear tree, prettier than any Ilamadryad that ever might have haunted the mossy old veteran of the gar den, her cheek tiu•hcd with sunshine and carmine, her dimpled lips apart, now read ing a line nr two from the book in her lap, now looking up, rapt in girlish reverie, into the blue sky as it sparkled through ever moving leaves, and now breaking into a soft little warble of song that made the very robins the:nselves put their heads one side to listen. The carriage had driven away long since—rho had watched it beyond the curve of the winding road; the dark mantel of shadow was slowly following the creeping sun-glowt t zross the velvet lawn below, and the old church spire among the far off woods had chimed out eleven. And still Mary Thorne sat there in the forked branches of the giant pear tree! Suddenly there floated up into the leafy sanctuary, a pungent, aromatic odor, which made her lean curiously forward, shading her eyes with one hand, the better to pene trate the green foliage below. Not the late monthly roses, not the Amethyst borders of heliotrope. nor the spicy geraniums, none of these blossoms distilled that peenlar smell! "My Faience!" said little Mary, "it's a cigar." A cigar it %cal, and the owner thereof.— she could ,jnst•see a white linen coat and a tall head covered with black, wavy curls— stood on the porch steps, quietly smoking, and indulging in a lengthened view of the garden slopes. "That's Torn Bradley," said Mary to her self. "Now, if he thinks I'm coming down out of this delicious cool place to sit up straight in the hot parlors he's mistaken! . Tom!" she called out, in a silver accent of impera tive summons, and then burst into merry laughter at the evident amazement with which the stranger gazed round him, vainly trying to conjecture whence the call pro ceeded. "You dear, stupid Cousin Tom," she ejac ulated, "don't stare off toward the cabbage beds! Look straight up here! you may come up if you please. There's plenty of room for both. You arc Cousin Tom," aren't you?" he continue:!, a sudden misgiving crossing her mind. "Of course I am; and you aro Mary, I suppose?" "Mary herself! Up with you, Tom catch hold of this branch—there. Now shake hands—you saucy fellow, I didn't say you might kiss me?" "Well, I couldn't help .it—and besides. aren't we cousins?" said Mr. Torn, swinging himself c )mfortably into a branch just above Mary. "Why, Tom, how you have changed!" ejaculated the young lady, pushing back the curls with one band, that she might the bet ter view her playmate of childhood's days. "Your hair never curled so bet,rc; and what a nice moustache you've got. I shouldn't have known you. Tom:" "No," said Tom, roguishly. "And you've grown so tall: I.deelnre, Tom, you're splendid." The gentleman laughed. "I could return the compliment if I dared! But where are all the rest of my relations? The house be low is as empty as a haunted hall." "All gone to welcome that horrid, poky old Prof. La Place, who has graciously indi cated his willingness to pass a few weeks with 115. Tom, Ido hate that man." "flare him! what for?" "0, 1 know; I'm sure he is n. snuff= dried, conceited old wretch, and I'll wager a box of gloves he wears spectacles!" "Nonsense, Mary! why, he's only twenty six." "I don't care—l know he's rheumatic and wears spectacles for all that. And Tom, now, if you'll never, never breathe a word of this—' "I won't, upon my honor," said Tom. "Well, then, papa has actually got the ides into his dear old bend that I should make a nice wife for the professor, and— and—" Mary turned away with crimson indigna tion basking in her cheeks. "It is too bad of you to laugh, Turn. I never, never will marry the man!" "I wouldn't if I were you," consoled Tom. "But, cousin Mary, wait and see the man before you decide. Ile may be quite a decent fellow." "No," said Mary, shaking her head and biting her cherry lips firmly; "I hate him beforehand." "Wh'tt a splendid little pussy you arp," said her companion, laughing. "No indeed, Tom, I'm not!" and the blue eyes become misty. "I love papa and Ruth dearly—and I . love almost everybody! I like you, Tom, but I hate Prof. La Place! and I want you to promise, Tom, thatyou'll stand my friend, and not allow him to tease mo into walks or rides, or tete-a-tetes of any kind! Will you? Would he? If she had asked him to precipitate himself out of the pear tree upon the stone steps below, witn those blue eyes fixed on his, he'd have done it! Any man of taste would. "1 promise!" ho said; and they shook hands on it! What a cosy place for a chat that gnarled old tree weal And when they had talked over everything they could think of, it was the most natural thing in the world that Tom should recover the book which bad slipped down into a network of tiny boughs, and read poetry to his pretty cousin in the deep musical voice that maidens' lave to listen to! And Mary eat there, watching the jetty curls blowing to and fro on his broad white brow, and the long. black lashes almost touching his olive cheek. And she thought how very, very handsome cousin Tom was, and how much he had changed in the ten years that had elapsed since she had seen him last; and she wondered whether Tom was engaged to any pretty girl—some how she hoped not! Now, why couldn't Tom have been rich like that Prof. La, Place, instead of a poor young medical stu dent, and—" And when the large black eyes were sud denly lifted to hers, Mary felt as though he had read every thought of her mind, .and blushed scarlet. • "Come, Tom," she chattered, to hide her confusion, "we've been up here long enough. Help me down, and I'll show you the old sun-dial that we used to heap up with but ter cups when we were children." "What a tiny, insignificant, little Mary she felt, leaning on the arm of that tall cousin. And how nico it was to hare the stately head bent down so courteously to catch her soft accents—for somehow Mary had forgotten her sauciness, and grown wonderously shy! A rumble of wheels—it was the returning carriage, and Mary clung to Tom's arm. "The awful professor!" she whi.raered.— 'Now, cousin Tom, be sure you stand by me through everything." "To nip life's end!" was the whispr:red answer; and Mary felt herself crimsoning, much as she strove to repress the tell-tale blood. Bat there waq no one in the haronehr, save Mr. Thorne and Roth, aq it drew np on the grand sweep, heßide the two cousinQ. "Where is the professor?" questioned Miss Mnry. "lie was not at tho depot," si hi Ruth "and"— But Mr. Thorne htl sprang from the car riage, and clasped both the stranger's hands in his. "La Place! is it possible? Why. we have just been looking for you at Mill Station?" "I am sorry to have inconvonienced you, sir," was the reply; "but I came by the way of Wharton, and walked over this morn ing." "Never mind, now, so you are safely here,' exclaimed the old gentleman. "Ruth, my dear—Mary--let me introduce you to your cousin, Prof. La Place!" Mary had dropped his arm and stood dis mayed. "You told me you were cousin Toni?" "So I am cousin Tom! that is my name and relationship. Now, Mary," and the black eyes sparkled brimful of deprecating archness, "don't be angry because I don't take snuff, nor wear spectacles! I bog the other cousin Tom's pardon, whoever he is: but lam very glad he isn't here. Mary be just and don't hate cousin Torn, because his other name happens to be L's Place!" Lie need not have beez so apprehensive, for in their twilight walk beside the sun dial that very evening, she confessed that she did not find Prof. La. Place such a ter• tibia ogre, after all; quite the contrary, in fact. And he succeeded in convincing her that ho liked his impulsive little cousin Mary all the better for these pear trim con fidences! But, no doubt, it was a very perplexing thing to have two cousin Toms; and so. about six months subsequently, Miss Mary contrived to obviate that inconvenience by allowing one of them to assume a nearer re lationship, and in spite of all her amerce dens to the contrary, she is Mrs. Prof. La Place. For it's a solemn fact in this world. that. whenever a girl says she "never, never," will do a thing, she is pretty sure to go and do it the first chance she gets, and Mary is no exception to the general rule! The Novice "I, in probation or a Sbaerhood —RItAxE.re.ARE The events I am about to relate took place at Paris, in the reign of Louis the Fifteenth; all excepting the names, or rather titles, of the parties—for their first names are those which actually belonged to the actors of the drama—being literally true. The Count de Villeroi, a noble of high descent and great feudal possessions, had an only daughter, lienriette, wbo, almost in her childhood, evinced so decided a vocation for a conventual life, that, before attain the ago of sixteen, she entered upon her noviciate in the convent in which she had been educated. Returning home, in conse quence of a severe illness, a few months after, she met at her father's, Adrien, Vis count do Mornay, a young man, her equal in birth, fortune, and endowments; a mutu al attachment ensued, and they were on the point of marriage, when M. de Villeroi died, leaving his daughter under the guardian. ship of his only sister, the Marquise de Chamillart. This lady, still young enough fir coque try, had, unfortunately, imbibed an attach ment for de Mornay, and in revenge for his neglect of her charms, resolved to separate the lovers; an opportunity for which pur pose unluckily offered itself in his being ap pointed secretary to on embassy at the court of St. Petersburg. The Marquise immediately placed her niece at the royal abbey of Panthernont. Rue de Grenville, in Paris; the abbess of which convent was nearly connected with her family, and joined her heartily in en deavoring to induce the ' fair novice to in• crease the already large number of illustri ous ladies of the house cf Villerol, who had attained the highest honors of the church. The Marquise adopted the further pre caution of sending to the abbey of Panthe mont, partly as companion, partly as atten dant, upon her niece, a tenant's daughter, Eugene Latour, whose vocation for a reli gious life she well knew, promising that if she succeeded in inducing Henrietta to take the veil, she would herself furnish the money required for her entering the same convent. In addition to this, annoymous letters were dropped, by unknown bands, into the apartment of the fair maiden, an nouncing that Adrian was on the point of marriage to a Russian princess; and the marquise showed communications addressed to herself to the same effect; so that poor Ifenrietta,. hearing nothing from her false lover, and assailed on every side by pursua sions and arguments in favor of a religious life, was nt last driven to resume the dress and duties of it novice, and to announce her intention of becoming a nun as soon as the requisite forms could be undergone. Although, however, the marquise find, to a certain point, succeeded in her end, one of the means which she employed had com pletely failed her. Eugene Latour, an af fectionate, honest-hearted girl, had, with the quick sympathy of youth toward youth, become unfeignedly attached to her , young lady, and seeing at once, and the more strongly from her own deeply seated tell gious feelings, that poor Ilenriette's voca tion was Vie result rather of disappointed love than of devotion, and distrusting, most j u stly, the good faith of the marquise, who seemed, to her sense of simplicity, taking too much pains to establish that which, if true, needed not such reiterated proofs, suddenly demanded her dismission and her wages, and set forth from the ruined Gre nelte, determined, if possible, to get to the speech of the Viscount de Mornay. Whetlor her pilgrimage might not have conducted her to St. Petersburg, there is no saying, had she not, luckily, bethought her self of repairing to the hotel of the noble man in whose suite Adrien had visited the court of the Czar, whore she immediately ascertained that the teermary of the em bassy had been unable to encounter the severity of the climate, had been Pent under medical advice, to his chateau, near Lyons. Hither the faithful girl repaired, hus banding as best she could, her own small means, and pefornting—partly on foot, and partly by the aid of good-natured travelers —a journey whose duration and difficulty can hardly be adequately estimated in these days of steamboats and railways. She found the Viscount de Mornay, as he expected, sick rather of grief than of disease. A .!ssf cm of deceit had been practised with s ~ -rses:t to him; and he, when Eugene ma it ber appearance in his eppartment, folly dint Mademoiselle do Vll levoi, to whom he had written repeatedly, without receiving any answer, (letters which the marquisa had taken good care should never reach the convent,) had already taken the veil. The tidings which his unexpected visitor bad to tell him gave him new life. Ile im mediately despatched her to the Princess Potocka, the Itussinn wife of a Polish noble man, and the friend in Pa ris upon whose aid he most confidently relied, and proposed following himself as soon as his health would permit. Eugene arrived at the Hotel Potocica on the very ova of the profession. The four teenth of March was the fatal time, and this was late on the evening—evening, do I soy?—before the necessary explanations had taken place; it was deep in the night of the thirteenth; and the princess, as her only chance, resolved to set forth at once on her senrch fur the archbishop, The archbishop was. however, nowhere to be found. All that she could learn from the drowsy Swiss porters of the palace was, that he was either in retirement at the sem inary of Saint itlagloise, or he was gone to pass thejete of St. Bruno with the holy fitthers of Chartreux in the Rile d'Enfer, or he was resting himself at his country honse at Con lairs sue Seine! Defiled and disappointed, the princess drove back to her hotel. She retired to rest, lifter giving Eugene to the care of her attendent. But, as her love of justice, her hatred of perfidy, and her affectionate pity for its amiable and innocent victims made it impossible for her to sleep, while any means to prevent the meditated injury was yet untried, at seven o'clock Eugene was summoned to the carriage, and they drove to the abbey. "Let me see the abbess as soon as pos sible," was the message sent. The answer, as might be expected, was a possitive refusal. The abbess was obliged to be in office at that hour in the church. She then asked if she might not be permit ted to enter the convent to reveal something to her of the greatest importance. The re ply was: .:'By no means, except by permission of the Archbishop of Paris." And, now, almost in despair, the princess re-entered the carriage, and establialsed her self at the doer of the church, there to await the arrival of the prelate. Tbe.clock struck derv:, when one of the servants of the princess forced his way to her carriage. "Madame," said be, hastily, "the archbish op entered by the cloister door; he is aires.dy at the attar, and the ceremony is poing to $1,50 PER YEAR TN ADVANCE; $2.00 IF NOT IN ADP The princess and Eugene shuddered when they heard this inteligence, but recovering her presence of mind, the princess wrote a few lines on her tablets, and then ordered her valet to make way for them through the crowd, and conduct her to the sacristy with out losing a moment; giving Eugenie, mean while, to the care of another servant, de siring him to bee her safely seated in the church. Never had a more brilliant assembly of royalty, nobility, and persons of varied claims to distinction, been gathered to gether on such an occasion. The pride of the aunt had led her to make the ceremony of her niece's profession as imposing and dignified as passible. 11l did her sparkling dress, however, ac cord with the deadly whitoeness of her check and the languor of her eountennance, as she awaited, with the firmness of despair, the opening of the gates of the choir. As she rose from her knees a sort of loud murmuring woo heard at tho bottom of the church, among tho servants in the livery. "Turn those footmen out!" cried a noble man, in a very loud voice; but they were al ready departing unbidden, for they were bearing out a young man who had fainted, but was recovering, sand struggling to re main where he was. This circumstance drew Ilenriette's attention to the spot, just as her aunt wns leading her to kneel before the observant prelate. She saw, she recog nized her lover in the now passive youth whom they were now bearing away, and who uttered on "011, Dieu!" which, thrilled to her very soul; but the angry pressure of her arm by her enraged and alarmed re lation, recalled her to herself. What an expression of interest, love, anxiety, and agony beamed front her glistening eye, as 9ho turned to kneel at the feet of the arch bishop. But when there, when the awful moment really came, she felt that the cere mony must go on, though she would bo a wretch for life. Neither that look of agony, nor that of humble resignation which suc ceeded, was lost on the benevolent prelate, who was holding in his hand tablets cranni ed in gold. "Sister," said he, in the kindest tone, "what is your age?" " She is nineteen," cried her aunt. "You will have to answer me, madame, by-and-by," replied the archbishop; and he put the same question to Henrietta again. "I am just turned seventeen," faltered out the blushing novice. "In what diocese did you receive the white 1 veil?" "In the diocese of Toul." "flow in the diocese of Tool?" exclaimed the archbishop, in a very loud voice. "The seat of Toul is void; the bishop of Tool has been dead these fifteen months, and no one there can be authorized to receive novices.-- Your noviciate is null and void, young lady. and we:refuse to receive your profession." lle then rose from his sent, assumed his mitre, took his crosier from the hands of an acolyte, and said. addrcs,ing the assembly: "My very dear breth , rn, 'here is no neces sity for us to examine r.n I interrogate thic young lady on the sine.n:ty of hcr religious vocation. There is, at present, a cononieal obstacle to her profession. As to any future impediment, we reserve to ourselves the means to ascertain whether any such exist. To the meanwhile, I forbid any other ecclesiastic whatever to assume the power of accepting:her vows, on pain of interdic tion, suspension and nullity, and this in virtue of our metropolitan rights, aecorning, to the bull cum proximity!" When bo had pronounced these word., a sound, as of approbation, was heard (rim many parts of the building, but the prelate instantly sung, in a grave and solemn voice: 'Adjolorittm merlim in nomine Domini:" and turning to the alter, he proceeded to give the benediction of the holy sacrament, while Henrietta. scarcely able to support herself. was icad to the nearcet seat, where she hid her face in her handy to conceal her varied emotions, among which thankfulness was predominant• Meanwhile, though the considerate pre late, in order to avoid a public oxposuro of the nefaririas proceedings of the marquise, that be might not disgrace a noble family. had taken advantage of a violation of forms to annul the ceremony, that lady found herself so despised and avoided in the circles in which she had hitherto moved, that she was forced to quit Paris; and, on pretence of illness, she set out to travel in a foreign land. And in a happy marriage terminated this romance of real life. A MATRIMONIAL LEGEND.—Orie night, a maid in the parsonage of Wreckholm, before covering the fire, made as was her custom, the sign of the cross. Somebody laughed beside her. She turned round to see who it Ras, but her companions 'trete ail asleep. The noise came from a stone in the chimney which the sexton had dug up when making a new grave. The parson, wanting a bob, appropriated it. Next day, they made in quiries about the flagstone, and old people in the village related the following story: Three hundred years ago, a pious man named Melehoir was parish priest of Wreck holm. Every night before going to rest, he retired to the church to pray, careing neither for bad weather nor cold. But his wife was not of the same opinion. '•Coming in et two o'clock in tbe morning, and getting into bed like an icicle on a winter's night— Pee no patience with bind Good Father Petrus nercr indulged in such •agrarics.'' [WHOLE NUM8ER.1,634. But hero her conscience struck her. Fath er Petrus was the last Roman Catholic priest, and a celibate, while Melcheir had done womankind a good service—was tho father of eigh teen_ eh ildren :7 -se Ras p his third wife, and if he hadn't married her, she might have remained an old maid fur ever. So, repenting her severity, she called the servant, Lars, saying, "Disguise your stir as a ghost to frighten your master when he goes out to-night, and I'll give you a jug of bezr." Lars dressed himself in a white sheet, and placed himself in Melehoir's path. On seeing the ghost, the pious man began to pray, and while ho prayed, Lars sank slowly into the gronnd, "Who aro you?" asked the parson. Receiving no answer bo prayed once more, when. sinking to the waist, the man cried out, "Master, it is Lars." "Too late," esclaimed Melchoir; "your heart, from which proceeds your sin, is already underground." Then, giving the wretched serving-man a crack on the head with his prayer-book, ho sank beneath the earth—turned into a flagstone. The peasants erected a. cross on the spot, and there it still stands. The parson's wife was of the noble family of lkorne (squirrel.)— She was buried in the church-yard of flatu na. yet her corpse cannot turn to dust, though her coffin and winding-sheet have long since mluldered away. Not only she herself will not decay, but the arm of her brother, which lay nest to her coffin, became hard as a stone, while the rest of his body fell to powder. You may he sure that when the family (not my friend's, but a former priest's) heard this tale, the sepulchral flag stone was sent to its own place that very day before nightfall.—One Maria Speck/J. A. Cut - nous STORY.—The Bank of Eng land, says an English paper, possesses some singular traditions and experience. We heard, the other day, an anecdote from an authentic source, although it related to something that happened many years ago— before the lifetime of the present generation. The directors received an anonymous letter, stating that the writer had the means of ac cess to their bullion room. They treated the matter as a bons, and took no notice of the letter. A more urgent and specific letter failed to arouse them. At length the writer offered to meet them in the bullion-room at any hour. They then communicated through the channel be had indicated, appointing some "dark and midnight hour" for tho rendezvous. A deputation from the board, lantern in hand, repaired to the bullion room, locked themselves in, and awaited the arrival of the mysterious correspondent.— Punctual to the hour, n noise was heard be low. Some boards in the floor were without much trouble displaced, and in a few min utes the Guy Fawkes of the bank stood in the midst of the astonished directors! Ills story was very simple and straightforward. An old drain ran under the bullion room, the existence of which had become known to him, and by means of which ho might bare carried away enormous sums. Inquiry was made. .N,ltiiing had been abstracted, and the directors rewarded the ingenuity of their anonymeas correspondent—a working man oba had been employed in repairing sewers—by a present of eight hundred pounds. REITATZKABLE LAKES IN PORTUGAL— On the top of a ridge of mountains in Portugal, called Ditralla, are two lakes of great ex tent and depth, especially one of them, which is said to bo unfathomable. What is chiefly remarkable in them is, that they are calm when the sea is so, and rough when it is stormy. It is, therefore, probable that they have a subterranean communication with the ocean; and this seems to be con firmed by the pieces of ships they throw up, though almost forty miles from sea. There i+ also another extraordinary lake in that country, which, before a storm is said to make a frightful, rumbling noise, that may be heard a distance of several miles. And we are also told of a pool or fountain, called Fervencias, about twenty-four miles from Cambria, that absorbs not only wood, but the lightest bodies thrown into it, such as cork, straw, feathers, &a., which sink to the bottom are never seen more. To these wo may add a remarkable spring near Estretnes, which petrifies wood, or rather encrusts it with a case of stone; but the most remarka ble circumstance is, that in summer it throws up water enough to turn several mills, and in winter is perfectly dry. I`ilo3t TO ti%RiTF. TO AT `CASn!!\GTO\--•lY rotT.txT TO 'BUSINESS MEN.—As there IMO many persons who wish • to' communiecte with the different bureaus of the War De partment, a memorandum of the proper per sons to address may be useful to our read er: All letters relating to pay of soldiers on furlough or in the hospitals, should be ad to Gen. 11. F. Larnei, Paymaster General. Applications for back pay and the $lOO bounty of the deceased soldiers, should be addressed to Lion. E. B. French, Second Au- ditor Applications for pay of teamsters, em ployees of Quartermaster's Department, or for horses killed in service, should be ad dressed to lion. R. I. Atkinson, Third Au ditor. Applications relating to pap and bounty in the Marine or Naval service should be addressed to lion. Llorace Berrian,Sonrth Auditor. Letters concerning soldiers in the army should be addressed to Adjutail Osiers! Lorenzo Thomas. ,; ~..,
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers