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ME
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=SEEM
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jc,'.:44?!iliok:E4toi and Pnblishei:
VbI4IJAIE . XXXAr, NUMBER 44J
THE,, SPY,
EMMAUS FAMILY MIER
.111ORNINC.
OFFICE, Ix - tom-sr ST., OPPOSITE COLITM
• -., • BIA BANE.
- 0 -
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tions, $9,00. Auditors' Notices and Legal Notices, 3
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JOB WORK; •
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in-
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AEADING RAIL ROAD.
SMIUDIER AARANGEDIENT.
GREAT TRUNK LINE FROM
the Nort - h'aua North-West for Philadelphia,
New York, Reading, Pottsville, Lebanon, Allentown,
Easton, fie., Sc., • -
Trains leave"liarri:Stiurg for Philadelphia. N"ew
:York, Reading, Pottsville. and all Intermediate Sta
tions, at It A. 51.. and 21'. M.
New York "Express leaves Harrishurgat 040 A. 31.,
arriving at New Yorkist 1.15 the same morning.
A special Aecommoilation Passenger train leaves
Readotg at 7.15 A, 51., and returns from Harrisburg
at P.
Falare e s l from Harrisburg:
S o O . N
B w
g Y a w g i e checked l e s ck :
e t dPhidphia 12 3.1 and o
through.
Returning. leave New York at n 51".. 12 noon and
7 P. NI., (Pittdiurg Express arrhing at Ilarrisburg at
2A. M.) beat e Philadelphia at 5.15 A. 51., and 3,30
3.. M.
Sleeping ears in the New York Express Trains,
through to and front Pit tst atrg, without change.
Passenger+ by the (latawissa Railroad leave T . a-
Inagua at 5.30 A. sk. and 2.10 P. 51. for Philadelphia.
'New York. and all Way Points.
Trains leave Pottsville at 9.15 A. 51.. and 2,10 P. H.,
for Poilaielphia:llarrislourg and New York.
An Aerommodation Passenger train leaves Read
ing at 6.00 A. 31., and returns trom Philadelphia ar
5.00 r. H.
the above trains mu daily, Sundays ex
eepbok
A Sunday train leave. Pottsville at 7.10 A. 31., and
Philadelphia at :1.15 P. 51.
Commutation, 51Pleage. Season. and Excursion
Tivicebeat red teed rate-' to and from all points.
1W Pentads Baggage allowed each I:a.m.:neer.
G. A. N1(.211,L5.
General Superintendent.
- -
=ME
,PENNSFLIPANIA RAILROAD.
Trains leave Columbia going east,
Colmobla Ltain, H 1.1 A. M.
Corft.:Aceolantodattion, 1 55 P. M.
(to VC/lined , with Fast Mail east, at I.:meats' r)
Ilarilsbarg Aeeontorlation, 6 a P. M.
Trains leave west,
hall Lrian, It -15 A. NI.
3 larrisburg Aceomodation, 0 50 I' M.
Columbia train arrives, S 20
J. BOICP., Ticket Agent.
READING AND COLUMBIA R. R
Accont. leteces corn. 8 A. M
Arrive at Reading, 10 32 do
Fast Line leaves Cora. 2 10 P. Ni
Arrives at Reading:, 4 :2:3 do
All trains connect with the Penna. It. It
at Landiliville, going east and west.
It. CRANE, Supt.
N. C. RAIL'S/174902%
V 0 .12 NANDIV IGHTSVILLR R. R
Tho ;rails front Wrightsville and York
Will - run as follows, until further orders:
Leave Wri. , htsvillo, 7 30 A. M
1 00 P. NI,
it
Leave York
la . t 4
Drparture and Arrival of the Passenger
Trains at York.
DEPARTURES FROM 17:011.1:.
For BA lar.monn t 4.15 A. M., 8.30 A. M.,
andel:Al P. M. .
For llAtuttsnuna, 11.55 A. M. G. 19 P.
and 12.25 A. :11,
• , AItEIVA LS AT YORK.
From BAmrtmonE, 11.50 A.M., 0.15 P. M.
and 12.2'2 A. M.
From MAtutisnyncl, 4.10 A. 51., 5.25*A.
M., and 2.45 I'. M.
On Sunday, the only trains running...are
the ono fro m . .llarrisb u rg at 8.25 in the morn
ing, proceeding to Baltimore, and the ~no
from Baltimore at 12.22 A. M., pmcceding
o,
tflarrisburg.
DR. HOPPER,
TIENTIST,--OPPICE, Front Street next door
Jj "to It. Williams Drug Store, between
,Locustand Walnut sts,,Coltt., Pa. tpr.
11, IL ESSICK,
ATTORNEY IND COUNSELLOR AT WY,
COLL' MBIA, PA
LADIES' DRESS GOODS!
NENV Stock: putt received. We have
some, Ocap bargains.
' STFACY & BOWER.S.
Opposite Odd Fellows Hall, Cora, Pa.
'November
D 4. A. *...1117.,LLER,
QURGEO 25 .fI I STISVOffers his protest
13‘sional services to the citizens of Coltim
'bin and
OFFICE on,Front street, fourth door
above Locust, ffice formerly occupied by
J. Z. Hotter.
Col umbla pleb:2D;
• • NORTEC;
TTOINBY . AND COT:MELLOR AT LAW
LIM. Columbia, Pa.. *
Collections...prgiaptiv made in Lancaster
York counties:
Cola; Jule ISGI •
INA.NTED.
- LIVERY ONE, to know , that the way to
...I.llsave money. is to buyyour goodsat the
, Clsoap Mors of Maltby Case. . general
assortment of Sp ilng Goodiajnst rereiveia.
Car a:mar.lo. "
•..
FLVT FAMILY GROCERIES.
RERIN - *ID Sugsre and Syrups. Prime
Itio Coffee, Toss, Spices, Dried Fruit,
English, and American Plekels,A.R., &c)
Just receivod by, HENRY SUYDAM'
Oor. of Union Front giit
ypl•~::mar.L_-•81.
.'""'p-"'"...-.........,/ ' ••••••:-.4:-,i----- - --.--, - --------,-. - . --- :‘ ,-- - - ----.74 , 1-r- - _ -••-, • •.• -,...,,,....-,. •-,,,
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EOM
7 30 P. :t.f
30 A. NI
12 10 I'. .Nt
4 30 P. Al
DR. WISHART.'S
PINE TREE 'TIRTORDIIL
Is The Vital. Principle of the
Pine •Tree,
TITAIXED by a peculiar process in the
ki distillation of the tar, by which its high
est medical properties are retained.
Mace You a antglil Have You a Sore
Throat! grave you any of the premonitory
symptoms of that most fatal disease, Con
sumption ?
Those who should be wain . ed by these
symptoms generally think lightly of them
until it is too late. From this tact, perhaps
more than any other, arises the sad preva
lence and fatality of disease which swceps
to the grave at least "one sixth" of dea:,l'
Consmnption has destroyed more of the
human family than any other disease, and
the best physicians for many years have
despaired ota cure, orn remedy that would
heal the lungs, but for more than two hun
dred years the whole medical world has
been impressed that there was a mysterious
power and efficiency in the Pine Tree Tar
to heal the lungs; therefore they have re
commended the use of Tar Water, which
in many cases had a good effect; but how
to combine the medical properties so as to
heal the ' has ever been a mystery
until it was discovered by Dr. L. Q. C.
wlsmurr; of Phibidelphia, Pat., the pro
prietor of "Wishart's Pine Tree Cordial."
Many, not only of the people, but phys
icians ofcvery school malpractice, aredally
asking one "What is the principle or canso
of your success in the treatment of Pulmo
nary Consumption?" My answer is this :
The invigoration of the digestive organs
—the strengthening of t todebilitated syst em
—the inct•ificab'On and en richment of the
blood, mast expel from the system the cor
ruption which scrofula breeds. While this
is effected by the powerful alt erative (clang
big from disease to health) properties of
the Tar Cordial, its healing:lml renovating
principle is also acting upon the irritated
surinces of the lungs and throat, penetra
ting to each diseased part, relieving pain,
subduing inllamation, and restoring
healthful tendency. Let this two-fold pow
er, the healing and the strengthening, con.
tinue to act in conjunction with Nature's
consnant recuperative tendency. and the
patient is craved, tf he has not too long de
layed a resort to the means of cure.
I ask nil to read the following eirti (lentos.
They are from men and women of unques
tionable worth and reputation:
Dn. WoutmlT—Dear Rir! I had nvery
dreadful cough and sore I hroat for one year
and my whole system was fastgi ving way,
and I was prostrated on my bed with but
little hope of recovering. My disease
; breffirtbllve-rownr.,44,obeflial,mtes r nivil4n,
a short time I must have gone to my grave,
but, t hank f.; od, daughter-in-law would
not, rest until she went to your store, No.
1.0 N. Second street, and related toy ease to
you. purchased one bottle of your Pine
Tree Tar Cordial, and I commenced to use
it. and in one week 1 rm.:mach bettertand
after using three bottles, I am perfectly
well, and a wonder to all toy friends. for
they all pronounced me past cure. Pnb
lish my ease it you think proper.
REBECCA
No. ma \Vylie street, Philadelphia.
Dr. Wish:lW:: Pine Tree Tar Cordial is
an infalliableenre for Bronehitia, Bleeding
of the Lnngs, Sore Throat. and ltroast, In
thunation of the Lungs.
'Arr. Ward says
DR. \VIM - TART—N/7" ; I had Bronchitis.
Intlamation of the Lungs, Shortness of
Breath, and Palpitation of the Heart in
their worst forms ; I had, been treated by
several of the most eminent physicians in
Philadelphia, but they eould not stop the
rapid course of my disease. and I had de
spaired of over being restored to healt h.—
I was truly on the verge of the grave. Your
Pine Tree Tar Cordial was highly recom
mended to Inc by a friend ; I tried it, and
am thankla I to say that, after using four
large, and one small bottle. I was restored
to perfect health. You can give reference
to my house, No. 968 N. Second street; or
at my (Alec of Receiver of Taxes, from 9
a. in. tot2p. m., corner of Chefout and Sixth
streets. JOHN 'WARD.
Read the following from Mica:
Du. Trim:air—Dear Sir: I take pleas
ure in informing you through this source
that your fine Tree Tar Cordisl, which
was recommended for my daughter by Dr.
S. A. Hall, of this city, has cured her of a
cough of more than live months' standing.
1 had thought her beyond cure, and had
employed the best of medieal aid without
any benefit. I can cheerfully recommend
it to the public as a sale and sure remedy
for those similarly afflicted, es I know of
many other eases besides that of my daugh
ter that it has entirely cured of long stand
ing coughs. yours respectfully,
JOHN Y. PARKhIt,
Daugerrean Artist =3 Genessee St., 'Utica.
• * * * * I have used Dr. Wisliart's
Pine Tree Tnr Cordial in my' family, and
can cordially recommend it as a valuable
and safe medicine for colds, coughs, and
those predisposed to consumption.
Dr. G.. 1. FOSTER, 100 Genessee St.
The above are a few, among the thous
ands which this great remedy has saved
front an untimely grave.
' %Vc have thousands of letters from physi
clans and druggists who have prescribed
and sold the Tar Cordial, saying that they
have never rood or sold a medicine which
gave such universal satisfaction.
. The Tar Cordial, when taken in connec
tion with Dr. Wisitart's Dyspepsia Pills,
is an infallible cure for Dyspepsia.
The p NT, TREE TAI; CORDIAL 'will
curo Coughs, Sore Throat and Breast, Bron
chitis, Asthma, Whooping Cough, Dipthe-
Tilt arid is ull also nn excellent remedy for
t lie diseases of the kidneys, and femn le corn
plaints,
•
BEWARE OF COUNTERFEITS
Thn genuine has the name of the propri
etor and a Pine Tree blown in the bottle.
AU others are spurious imitations.
Pr(e Feyly Cents and One Dollar per Bot
tle. Prepared only by the Proprietor,
Q. C. WISEWIT,
Ko. 10 2fOliTlT SECOND Street, phi:hula.
phia PClUlSyfrallia.
•
Sold bypreggiAts everywhere, at Whole
sale by all. Philadelphia. and New. York
Wholesale Druggists. ""
mar.l9--•841 y., .
"NO ENTERTAINMENT SO:CREAP" AS READING, NOR ANY PLEASURE S 0 LASTING."
COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SATURDAY MORNING, .JUNE 11 g 1864.
trigivaL
For the Columbia Spy,
-0R
THE GIPSY LEADER.
A. STORY OF LOVE k TREACHERY
- 0 _
•BY FINLEY JOHNSON,
Arthor of "The Outcast Daughter," "Alice
St-John," "Fannie 11(3%N-bray," "The Or
. phans," "The Drunkard's Daughter."
I=l
CHAPTER XI
The singularsenergy which character
ized the whole character and proceeding
of Myra, the Gipsy Queen, was never
more truly exhibited than in the steps
she so successfully took for the liberation
of Henry Handy.
Rackets was, within an hour after his
interview with Henry, in the prison re
spectably attired as a Thriller, and waited
upon one of the first lawyers of the State.
A hundred dollars was given as a retain
ing- fee - ,* and as we have seen the prisbner
was released on bail.
Myra and Rackets waited for him at
the prison gates, and in another hour he
was well mounted, and on his way home.
The night was dark and squally. A
cold wind careered over the meadows, and
I the leaves were scattered to and fro. It
was upon such a night, then, that Irene
with all the real courage of a heroine,
commenced her expedition to find the
means to save her lover. It was strange
that she should, apply for aid, in the out
set of her career, to the very authorities
who had Charles in custody, but she had
seen enough of the Marshal to know that
his heart was in the right place, and that
he would help her if he could, so it was
to him that she first appealed.
"You want the, loan of a horse, Miss
Irene, to carry you home," said the Mar
shal, "you shall have one."
Thus, then, was it that Irene, on a
quiet' and fast horse that the Marshal had
procured for her, started for her home,
after nightfall, first for the format which
her mother was stopping, and then for
Mount Hope.
.. ,41 . 1 repp...muzulda0VOVWVIVAitiOtortV.'
could have'been freed 'Vein -snip r eion,
without the inculpation of henry; but it
would have been a mock sensibility to
pretend that sho really hesitated a MO
meat in her course. The idea had now
got fair posession of her,that the personal
appearance of her lover had been simu
lated by his brother, and if she could
only find the means by whic it could be
accomplished, the evidence against her
lover would fall to the ground.
And, now, as Irene rode on, the night
darkened abouther, and is feeling of d read,
as if some great disaster was to happen,
that took possession of her.
She put her horse into a gallop, and
was about crossing the bridge, when a
figure started up in her path, and a shrill
voice cried :
"Stop, Miss, if you please."
The horse reared, but did not plunge,
so that Irene was not thrown, and ,she
called out, at once :
"Stop fur what ? Who are you ?"
"Don't you know me, Miss ?"
"Oh, yes, I think Ido now. You are
the lad who was in the seri•ice of Mr.
Charles Handy?"
"just so, Miss, but if you don't mind
I will just walk along side of your horse,
and tell you something."
•'Very well."
"What I want to say, Miss, is that Mr.
Charles didn't do the murder."
"I know that."
"But you want proofs of that."
"Oh. yes, yes. And if you can help
me—if you know anything that can aid
iu that proof, my gratitude will be eter
nally yours, and you will be doing a good
action."
• "Well, I don't mind doing a good ac
tion one:: in a way, Miss. Now, you just
listen to me. L rather think I can put
you in the way of finding something at
Mount Hope that will show that some
body else may have murdered your father."
"At Mount Hope ?"
"Yes. You ain't afraid of ghosts, are
you ?" .
"No."
"Then come with me there, andl will
help you all I can. What do you say
now, if you were to find a wig that Was
so exactly the color of Mr. Charle's hair,
that if any one put it on, they would look
just like him, and would be easily taken
for him."
"Oh, yes. yes, that's how it was done."
"Come along, then, with me to the
old mansion, and we will find all them
things."
"Most willingly, but I wish to see my
mother, first. If you will wait. for me
hero, I will ride back."
"All right, Miss."
Irene urged her speed, and was soon
over-the little bridge. She had scarcely
however, left the boy a minute, when
from the hedge side there rushed a man.
who sung his arms around him, and held
as with a grip of iron. It was in" a vain
that Saul struggled to free himself from
this unwelcome embrace. A cord was
,
slipped over his heed, and' then • down
across his arms, and pulled tight by a run
ning noose.
The boy was a hopeless prisoner.
Then he cried oat load far help and
the moment he did so, a handkerchief
was coiled up rope fashion, and placed
in his mouth like the bit of a horse, and
tied tightly round his head. Iticas (rely
in a faint, muffled fashion that he could
now utter a word. , .
From the hedge and,deep cavernous
recesses around the spot there now slow
ly emerged a throng of dark figures, and
noiselessly the gipsies, to 'the number of
about forty, assembled in a dense throng
close to the britige.
Then, from the midst of some dense
foilage, came Myra, the chief of the gip
sies, and she stood upon the centre of
the bridie, and held aloft her wand,
which was to the tribe a symbol of au
thority. There then came another dim,
reddish, light over, the scene, and from
the other side of soli., tall trees, about a
half mild from the spot; tlEbre rolled over
a mass of thick smoke, through which,
at times, gleamed bright fiam:is, that fell
with a sickly lustre upon the swarthy faces
of the gipsy tribe.
All those faces were turned in the di
rection of the•flames, and' the effect was
strange and picturesques, for at the same
moment, by various gestures and expres
sions, they betrayed great satisfaction.—
Then, as the flames slowly subsided, My
ra spoke in a ,Ipw, earnest voice, but yet
one which betrayed traces of excitement.
"The work goes well, and the son of
the tribe is free again. I hear his horse's
tread even now. He comes! he comes!"
An ejaculation burst from every lip,
and then Saul, who had managed to loos
en the gag in his mouth, uttered a cry
for help, .
A heavy blow on the top of his head
from one of the gipsies, stunned the boy
and he lay as if dead, close to Myra.
"Listen all," she said. "Listen to what
will be spoken by the voice of the fates,
that hold human destinies in the hollow
of their hand." •
An intense stillness was about the spot
—so intense that from a fhr off could be
heard the confused shouts of people, and
then, too, before - 41.1Yra could proceed in
what she had to say, the tramp of a horse
in the distance became perceptible, and
each moment increased in sound, so that
it was evident it would soon reach that
part of the road that was occupied by the
gipsics.
Myra waved her wand, and uttered
one word. It was an order which was
instantly obeyed, for the throng of gipsics
melted away in the darkness, and she was
left alone on the bridge.
Nearer and nearer came the horseman,
and at length was close to e
al?et, S tet si 'lll4 ftti c trcel ' visi etr;
now she roseio her full he ght and said :
"Hold, son of our 'tribe, hold."
The rider reined in his steed, and then
said a harsh voice—
"Why do you stay rue ? I have missed
11151
That voice was Henry Handy's.
"No," said Myra, "you have not missed
her. She is on before, and you are on
the, road yet between her and Mount
Hope. Dismount, Henry, I have much
to say to you."
"There is no time."
"There is time for all things."
"But you know that the girl may be
my ruin yet, and that I must intercept
her."
"And then you will listen. Dismount
I snv."
"Then, by all that is desperate, I will
not. Let me pass."
Like the scream of some mountain
eagle, came one short, sharp word from
Myra, and in an instant horse and rider
were surrounded by the Gipsies.
"Why—why---what is this ?" lie said.
"Are we not all friends ? What is all
this!"
The gipsies were as silent as so many
spectre, but Myra spoke :
"I'eople of the lost tribe," she said, "I
speak to you of this man, who is now
above the running stream, which, should
he swear falsely, will carry his soul to the
perdition from which there is no return.
Henry ! Henry ! Henry !"
"What would you of :no ?" said Hen
ry. "What madness is this, when action
alone can avert my danger."
"You must swear."
"Swear to what ? Am I not one of
you ? Body and soul, am I not ono of
you ?"
"You shall be," said Myra. "Dismount
at once, bare much to say to you—but
the oath—the oath."
"The oath," muttered the gipsies, who
thronged around him, and the effect of
this pronunciation of the word in deep
chorus was striking and majestic.
"By the living water—by the sun and
the moon, and by the star that holds its
place in the north—by the sister star set
in the due south, you swear thatyou will
be to the tribe the hope, the refuge, the
comforter im affliction—the giver of the
gold that may save one or all; or you give
yourself to the death that will hauntyour
footstep until it has overtaken.you."
"Of course I do."
"Hold up your right hand."
He did so, and Myra touched it lightTY
with her wand, and then turning to the
gipsies, Said : •
"It is enough." •
"Then she made use of the word 'she
had before uttered, and in another mo
ment she and Henry stood alone on the
bridge.
"What is the meaning of all this ?"
said he. "Am I suspected by the tribe ?"
"You are."
"And for what And.you and they
delay me here, while Irene Stoops is on
the road, and seeking the means of my
destruction. I shall miss her let."
"No. The scouts are oat. Hark !
Hark . •
A piercing scream from someone about
a quarter of a mile from the bridge, came
upon their ears,' and thin another: Then
in the lapse of a couple of minutes, there
came the rushing gallop of •a_ horse to
wards the spot, and as it passed them, a
little dirk figure sprung from the back of
the steed, without foran instantarresting
its progress, and allowing the animal to
tear onward , at.a mad gallop towards Co
lumbus, the dark figure sprung upon the
bridge.
"It is done. She is now a prisoner in
our tribe."
"You hear," said Myra to Henry.—
"She whom you dreaded, is safely dis
posed of."
"I do hear,
Mount Hope."
"But I haVe something to say."
"Then say it quickly."
.'You will be so great—so happy, Hen•
ry, when you are master of the estate,
will you forget her who nursed your child•
hood ? Will you forget the arms that
clasped you, and the breast on which
your infant head rested ? Will you for.
get me, Henry ?"
And now, I must go to
- There was an uncontrolabic emotion in
the face of Myra as she spoke, and her
hand shook as she placed it on the arm of
Henry Handy.
"I know not, good mother," said he,
with a slight tone of sarcasm in his man
ner, "why is it that you thus suddenly
question me, but you know I shall not
forget. Are we alone ?"
•
"Quite alone."
"And the tribe ?"
"Are to their tents again. I have got
something to say to you, ITeniy. You
know that I was your nurse in childhood
—you know that by your mother's pre
mature death you were left, with your
brother Charles, to the care of a dissipa
ted father, who scarcely ever looked upon
you. I was your nurse, and second
mother. It was through me you concoc
ted the plan to win back your estate."
"Yes, I knew that the plan was sim
ple and good. I was to come down here,
and whil the tribe was to spread fire and
desolation, I was to be a highwayman and
rob for the means of buying." ,
"Yes, and the plan has succeeded."
"It has. lam now owner of one half
of the estate, and I, have hidden in the
old mansion the means of purchasing the
balance."
"And the mansion ?"
"Oh, that belongs to General Scott,
my uncle, who will be
. _glad to sell it I
fancy. It is Aran , 4, Myra, but .116. was
"nowii`;."
Dforint Hope."
"Did he ?"
"Yes, Henry, and if my dream be true,
he is there still."
"You rave."
"No. His time had come. More I
know not, but what I say, I . believe.—
Do you recollect, or did you ever hear,
that he married about ten years ago a fair
young girl ?"
"What of her ? I heard of such a per
son who died abroad."
"She went from the world, but I know
not how. It baffles. me—but I will know.
For your sake. I will know."
"Oh, you are very good:"
"Is that all, 'Hoary ? Oh, remember
when you are great and rich, it was I and
my people that made you so."
"Don't go too far, Myra. I will be all
that I have sworn to be to the tribe—but
as to, really being one of them, you and I
know better than that. They believe—
and the accident of my dark complexion
favors the fancy—that I am one of them
selves—but lam not. Let me once get
posession of 2lount Hope and all its ren
tals and you will see—what—l—will—
do."
These last words were spoken by Hen
ry Handy in a disjoined• sort of manner,
which gave them a strong siznificance,
and, but that the feelings of Myra were
in a strange state of excitement,she must
have noticed them. As it was, she drew
nearerand nearer to him, and tears,
which
he never heard or seen her shed before,
he now could not but believe were flowing
from her eyes by the half suppressed sobs
that came from her laboring breast
"Why what ails you ?" ho said, rather
harshly. "1 never knew you so weak be
fore."
"I am human,ilenry. But go on your
way, and triumph. It is written—it is
written."
"Then I shall succeed ?"
"Yes—that you shall succeed. Go to
Mount Hope now, and carefully remove
every vestige of your disguises; for who
shall say what searches may now be made?
Commit, to the flames every thing that
could ten against you. Charles, too, must
perish I"
"Is that written too ?"
"It is. Henry, do not feel any weak
ness towards him. Do you wish to save
him ?" -
"Not I—l hate him. It is a secret to
all but you, Myra. But I spoke of love
—love in my fashion—to Irene more than
sir. months ago, and she repulsed me.—;
She loves Charles, and I hate him."
• "Let him perish then. He , is not of
us. Oar people will hold Irene captive.
All will be well. Look."
Henry followed the direction of the
eyes of Myra, as she ftbriiptly faced" the
old Mansion of Mount Hope, and' to his
surprise he not - flitting from-Window to
window, along what he knew was a long
gallery, a faint light, as if carried by so me
one who was slowly pacing : thrtagh he
house.
"By heaven," he °vied, "there iesome
enemy them already. Who can that be?
Speak, Myra, oan you. not tell me ?" -
"It may be your uncle."
"General Scott! • Ah, that would be
Well done, if atone blow lie could open
the inberitanee tb me. INFIEY, it migbt
$1,50 PEA : YEAS IN ADVANCI;ii, - 50 - lINOT PAPID riADVANCZ
save me a few thousand.
.What does he
there 7"
"I know not. Are you afraid ?"
"I afraid ? Good night. If all the
fiends—well, well, that is idle boasting.
I will to the mansion, and take precau
tionary measures."
Henry' remounted his 'horse; which he
had held by the bridle, and waving his
hand, he set off at a trot for the old man
sion. Myra, on his departure, at once
dropped to a crouching posture on the
bridge, and wept very long' and bitterly.
"What is it all for ? oh, what is it all
for ?".she sighed. "Am I mad ?—and yet
it has been the dream of my life. I have
never been unhappy until now the end is
nigh. I must have felt that the innocent
must suffer. I would fain spare Charles,
but I cannot—l cannot. There is no help
now,—no help."
The rain began to fall in torrents, and
still, amid the pelting of the shower, and
the howling of the wind, Myra crouched
down on the bridge, and wept.
C EAYTER XII
The fortunes of Irene upon that evnt
ful evening on which she rode out of Co
lumbus, to do what services she could for
her lover, are easily recounted. The ad
venturousgirl made her way in safety to
the farm.
"Mother, dear mother," was Irene's
first exclamation, as she flung herself on
Mrs. Stoops' breast. "f. bring you con
solation. Charles is innocent. lle is,
indeed, innocent. Let me sot down by
your side, mother, and tell you all. You
look doubting through your tears, but
you will believe when I have told you all
—you will, indeed, mother."
"I heard your father's last words,
Irene."
"Sres, mother yes, and he thought
them true. Now 1 will show you how ho
was mistaken, and, then, we will ask our
selve if Charles, who was so good and so
gentle, may not have the benefit of every
doubt."
'•Tell me all, Irene. God will direct
Mil
Irene then related to her mother all
that had passed since she had last seen
her, and ended' by detailing the meeting
she had had with the boy %aul,-who she
stated, was; even then.waiting her return.
It was with. surprise
,and horror #l4t,
Mrs. StOops,bea:rd those details , aucl;as
v
71 . ,• •
waymaM -and the mit"rdiirdrlfdier liva
band, she sobbed hysteripallY, , •aii if her
heart would break.
"Oh, my, child, my child," sho said;
"we are in the hands of too subtile a vil
lien to escape. Oh,. heaven direct us."
"Heaven, dear mother, will help us if
we will help ourselves. It is to heavens'
tribunal that Charles has to appeal, and
such help as I can give him, I will.--
Farewell now.dear mother, for I hope
only a few hours. I will conic back again
as soon as possible. I want money, too,
mother—mother for Charles I He is your
son now, mother."
"Yes. Oh yes. Take all, my child.
Your father left this purse with me. It
contains a thousand dollars. Take it,
and save the innocent."
"I will mother. And now, even amid
our griefs, let us try to be of good heart,
and I .do believe, and you will believe
that my poor murdered father looks
down from heaven approveiugly on his
child."
"He does. God bless you, darling.—
Go and do your duty."
It was then that, with a holy and firm
determination to leave nothing undone
or untried to servo her lover, that Irene
left the farm again, and at about half
past twelve o'clock. in the midst of the
squally wind, and the flitting rain, Mount
ed her horse again-, to keep her appoint
ment with the boy Saul.
But little did she dream of the danger
that awaited her before she should be
able to reach the spot on' which she had
loft Saul; and little did she expect that
he•was a prisoner in the hands of those
who were on the e'er) to capture her al
so.
On she sped—not swiftly, for the
horse was somewhat fatigued, and the
darkness was so great that it made the
road look and feel uncertain, and both•
steed sad rider were timid.
It is probable enough that this slow
and cautious pace of the horse saved Irene
from some severe injury by the sudden
fall she.got as the horse came in contact
with a rope that the gipsies had stretch
ed across the road to intercept her pro-
gross.
It was then that she uttered the scream
which Henry and Myra had heard while
on the bridge, and it was the horse Irene
had ridden, 'which had rushed by them
at a furious gallop. :
To a moment after her fall, Irene _was
pOunced upon - hy severalgipsloe, and a
scarf being thrown over her face, anti
tied securely under her chin, she *as
hurried down a sloping path, to the en
campment of the tribe. Only once more
had she been able to utter a cry of dis
tress, when she was thrust in one of the
tents of the tribe, and an old woman.
with considerable dexterity, tied 'her
handsand feet with severalhandkerehiefs
antivrould not make the slightest reply
to all her cries, for release.
.
She was compolled to lie upon the straw.
pallet where . she had, been'first placed;
for she was sa - 'seoured by the nicks that
she could not regain her feet, and when
the old hag, lyho bad „so fettered . ; her,
went out of the tint, she carried walker
tbe lamp which had buzu iciid slI
was darkness. '
At 8114, /rival fat
„ '
INI
[WHOLE NUM.8ER,1,760...
burst with grief, for - all her lilifies" cMs
ing her lover appealed to be extinguish
odby her capture, but she was 'not long
left to the indulgence of either hope or
despair, for close to her ear, a voice
whispered :
"Miss Irene is that you? Only say
'yes,' or give a little whistle, and it Will
be ll right."
It was with inconceivable joy that
Irene recognized in the voice that of the
boy Saul.
"Oh, yes, it is indeed I," she said.
"Hush, don't say another word. That
will do. Hero you are."
The difference in tonein which Ahem
three last words were uttered let Irene
know that Saul was in the tent.' "
"All right, Miss," he added. "I entU
little slit in the old canvass, you see, and
here I am. Lord bless you, they nab
bed me as well as you,
and laid me down
close by the bridge. • They thought they
had settled me, but I got one of my arms
out of the rope they tied round me, and
soon opened the little knife that • Mr.
Charles gave me, and was all right.—
Then I rolled slowly over and over, when
they didn't notice me, and got clear away.
The dogs here all knew me Well; and let
me come into the camp."
-"But how did you know I was hero ?."
"I heard that old Myra—the queen of
them, tell Mr. Henry so."
"Henry l"
"Yes. They had a preeiotis long talk
on the bridge yonder." •
"What, is he free ? Can you help - m•
to escape, Saul ?" ;
"Yes, Miss, and will do it."
Saul in the utter darkness, ineeee_ded
soon, in releasing Irene, and' she arose to
her feet, perfectly free. -
"Now, you follow me Miss," added
Saul, "and you will soon 'get away.. ' They
trust to dogs altogether, yon see, and
they all know me. Besides; die - tribe is
scattered about: "Where will you go ; tp,
Miss ?" '
"To Mount Hope, as wo
Then to Columbus." •
"Very good. That's it Miss; Now,
don't you be afraid, but walk on just • as
if you were one of the tribe. • Pat some
thing' on your head; like a .hood, as they
da, and nobody will notice Yen."
Irene tied a handkerchief overher hest
4ncl followed,sauk from, ~ th;e7th
Et• '-alk
rnri 0
by his - side.
• There.was a ruoged e , path up the,.
side,
which wound soon through ,a copse
and this was tho route taken by Saul and
Irene. If was only before reaching the
copse that there was any possibility of
their being seen by the gipmes; the me.
inept they were fairly among the trees
they were safe.
'"Now, Miss, if you please,and don't
mind a little scramble, and being helped
over a bit of broken ;wall of the garden
of Mount Hope, you may save leaf a
mile in getting to the house."
"You lead the way and I will follow.,
oh, Saul, how shall f thank you?"
"Oh don't say a word about that, Miss.
You must know its all for love, for though
I now see its Mr. Charles you like, I
won't interfere." • .'
- "Interfere Saul
"Yes. Oh, dear me,. yes. I did mew
you to bo Mrs. Saul, but now—..."
"I have given you to another,
I bare broken every raw----4"
"I don't mean your vows, Miss, but
my own. • But I can tell you that I heard
quite enough on the bridge, betweenthat
old Queen of the gipsies and Henry Han.
dy, to put Mr. Charles all right, if they
will believe me. Here we are. " Mind
how you go, Miss."
It was a portion of the wall of one of
the out-gardens of Mount Hope, that had
either been wilfully broken down, or had
fallen by stress of weather, that Saul now
stopped, and, with all the care in the
world, he helped Irene over the bricks,
and at last they both stood in thegatdon..
"Now,Miss," added Saul, "I suppose
it never struck you how to get-in the old
house, but I have made my way in the
old. house, but was glad enough forget
out. I don't believe in ghosts, bnt
,Y like
to keep out of their way., Thicis'isup
path."-
Irene followed Saul with implicit' ecia,
fidence,and haled her on to the amide
fiaggeterrace, which wentskingonisside
of the mansimi, and. opening one of Ake
long French 'easements he ushered
in the &mite.
"But, Saul," she said; as she
ed.; she know not why, "I begin -to 'use
how hopeless a thing it is too moat ee
vast a building as this." -
"So . it would, Miss, if we didn't lakine
where to go. , Bat" - do. I was here cos*
night, 'when Mr. Henry came, iiftlie
went into a small room up attire.'-'
take you there, and there Witt Weiwat
find what we want." 2., C. girt
"But tho darkuor, Saul ••;,41
"Alta right."
Them was,thewharp crack cligitiiist
match *gamic &est:Mot; train aitoMas
moment- • he' had lit a ••bit - tor
which he stack on the and'of-a•pleoikiit
stick. It• shod thmigh dais!.
im*k tl2# I* • .4.4 wat:o9.4 .403-‘AT
111. 03517INII13).
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aatoto worth one
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irOth _that
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cottii Ge• •
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