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VIE OTHER . GEBEL
In the year 1840, finding myself out of
,iployment, I happened.to hear that there
as a demand in Paris for workmen in,
y business. I unddistoOd the French
near. , and had,no ties to keeP
in I.,enderk;, so I packed up all my
orldly'goods, and with a few pounds in
.y pocket, proceeded to the gay capital.
hired:a singlechamber on the second floor
.one of the enormous "hotels geniis," or
Inished. houses, in the Roe du Faubourg
ittssonniere ; and the next day went out
seek, employment: Iliad two letter's of
troduction to masters—one directed to the
o St. Martin, where !p roceeded first.
ho employer received me kindly, 'but
aid he had no need of workmen; The
icond gave mo the same answer, but
,dded that if in six weeks' time! werenot
•ngaged, he should certainly be in a con
, Rion to employ me. A month passed and
eft me still idle. I found that I had been
isinformed as to the demand for work
en; or else, that the state of things had
hanged since the date of my information.
began to think of returning to London,
'afore my stogk of money became too low
o enable mo to do so; but, by a strange
ato, I was positively without a friend or
lative in England; and, if I returned, I
lid not see that I should greatly improve
y prospects. On the other hand, the
ouse in the Faubourg St. Antoine, had
sured mo that I should be engaged there
.n another fortnight. I resolved to stay.
t saw my money dwindle down to the exact
•um which would take me backto London.
hesitate O--but at last spent a portion,
ith the resolution of a man who burns his
,c,a(upon the shore to give himself the
enrage of desperation. Meanwhile I re
, owed my search,but still without success;
ill, at last, tho day came when I was to
;resent myself at the manufactory in the
uo St. Antoine. The aspect of the work
op, and the countenance of the master,
ere a sufficient answer. I left the house
' th a heavy heart--my last and most
Went hope was gone in an instant I I
as without friends—almost without me
•, or the means of getting it ; and as
ectually cut off from my own country
if I had been in the heart of Siberia. I
rid no spirit to renew the search that day.
took my small loaf and cheese, and with
book in my hand and sat in the girded
ftho Luxembourgh till the light failed. I
turned home, and entering at the lodge,
',lced to speak with the porter's wife, of
horn I had hired my room. At the same'
me, a young woman lodging in the same , ,
,ouse came in and asked if there was a'
etter for her. The landlady gave her one,
nd she broke open the seal , and began to
d it eagerly. I felt some degree of,
hamo to speak'of my business in presence
.r a stranger; but the young lodger was
bsorbedin reading her letter, and showed
9 signs of departing.
"I wish, Madantaliallet, to ask if you
ad another room to let, which I might ex
bulge for my own."
"Oh, yes--Monsieur would like one bet-1
er furnished ; one on the first floor per
aps, Well, I must say Monsieur is not
edged very comfortably ; but however,for
six francs a week, I am sure Monsieur
Would. not find a nicer loding in all
Faris."
"No, Madame Mallet, it is not that which
I want. I simply wished to know if you
had another room unoccupied, at a lower
rent than my own." -
"Why yes," replied she, in a less respec
table tone--r-"if you wish for one cheaper
you must be content to climb up to the top
floor, where I have a little room, not very
• elegantly furnished as a matter , of course,
at four francs per week. This young per
son occupies the other garret, which she
•
will telLyou is pretty comfortable."
The young lady 'raised, her eyes from
iho letter and murmured timidly, 'that she
w ag quite satisfied with it.
I observed her as she spoke. She was,
certainly-far from being handsome, but her
dress though plain was neat and graceful.
There Was, however, an expression in her i
thcopr meek humility, the result,. perhaps,
consciousness of a want of. beauty.—',
On that account she had, I thought expe
xionCed neglect, perhaps harsh.treatment;
and ,had' become timid and retiring, never
forgetting her defects.,
"MonsienrOn walk, up and see his new
'room if he Pleasesi",'added Madame Mallet
as it .isuite ready, he has nothing'
to do but to carry up his box." .
Sho toohthe Aighr, and I followed- My
poatneighbin wished,rne, good night upon
•„tbielanding:gnd•l entered. my new, abode.
.1119 room , was small,, and 'paved : vith
.ate 1. ItMkt:Pined pitnply, 4 bed,two choirs,
and on the wall a (ow ,Catho.
Ootttrcs. Iljto heuse, like most ,of the
`lintelft gar.nial in. the suburbs of. Paris,
great building, forming three ,sides
. MAMMA° YREd PI47APd withtre*: My.
Ipekednin upon, this yard... I,,sat
i rmselfdoiwn ,anki .I?agan.to ,refieet 'upon m y'
.pppi.tign4,..,lVy;llll9llPY•jf i.iv94l;:the.life.pf
a hermit, would', not last me , mom than
three weeks. I might
, then, - perhaps
scat
a faw. bank 'I had 'bronght .wsth rne—the
only consolation to Which. could then in
m rouble thad alSb n ring which my.
:r.) •'' ;
‘ l :•:4:it .-.. 0.fi,,db...-144iii., : ,_
NIMMINII 6,
A WEEKLY PAPER DEVOTED TO LITERATURE, AGRICULTURE, MORALITY, AND FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE.
"MEMNIMPNIP
. .
mother had given me, and which I had re- daskness, I looked up, and saw a faint,
solved never to part with. flush of light around the horizon ; and au
I continued to seek employment and to it grew not only in the east, but in the west,
live with the most rigid economy ; but at and in..every direction, I saw the edges of
length I found myself Without a sou. I hills, and the spires of fir plantations
took my books and, sold them for a few against the sky—l said, "It is nottho day
frsmcs at ono of. those innumerable book break, but the coming of a groat wonder. '
stalls that lino the quays of the Seine.— And I heard my mother's voice, saying,
When thiS money was gone I sat down in "Fear nothing ; you have kept' the ring-I
despair, with my face between my hands. gave you, and your love for mo will wipe
I had no further resource but my mother's out many sins." Then a great fear seiz- 1
ring, and, this I was determined to keep. ed me, and I called upon her by name,
Tl.o day passed away, and I tasted no food. and would have held her by the garment,
The next day I fasted also. I was deter- but she was gone. Meanwile, I prayed
mined, if at length I gave away to hunger, upon my knees, and I heard the stir of the
at leaSt not i to do so without such a strug- voiceless multitude around me, and I fell
gle as should console me in after dine for upon my knees and wept. ..
1
breaking my resolution. The sun shone Ido not know who found out first that
brightly that day, and I heard my neigh- I lay ill. Throughout the next day I was
her singing with her window open, where half awake, with a consciousness of soma I
I had often seen her, above the trees. I one moving in the room ;and in the even- 1
went to bed early to forget the pangs of ing a doctor came to me, perhaps he had;
hunger,•but I could not sleep. A gnawing been before, but I had no memory of it.
in the stomach, accompanied by. heat and He gave me medicine which I took with
thirst,
kept mo awake till the light stream- out inquiry, and another night passed in.o
ed in through the long narrow windows. calmer sleep. When I awoke again I felt',
Then I heard my neighbor again moving better. There was daylight in the room.
briskly in Ihe next apartment. Presently I stretched my hand out to draw aside the
I heard her open and fasten back the long curtain of my bed, when to my astonish. ,
wooden screens or jalousies, which close meat, I saw upon my finger the ring which
from the outside of all the windows in Par- I had sold to the jeweler. There was no
is. Then, like a bird at thesight of a fine doubt of its identity. I tried to recall the
morning, she began to sing again, till the events of the last two days. Was this,
i clay grew more advanced, and I heard the then, only part of the terrible dream which
noise of people in the street. She descen- had oppressed me? No. I remembered
ded the stairs, and I saw her cross the too well the days of my poverty and
yard, with her graceful little cap, which hunger; the long struggle with myself,
all French women wear in the morning, and the final yielding; the shop on the
and carrying in her hand a basket 2f wov- Boulevard where I had sold my ring, and
en straw, such as the French prisoners the Restaurant where I had broke my fast.
made and sold in England at the time of I thrust my hand under my pillow and
the last war. drew forth my money, the surest,,,proof
I c ould hardly stand for faintness ; I that I was not deceived. However I push-,
waited till I thought it late enough to find ed aside my curtains, to assure myselfthat'
some jeweler's shop open, and then, taking I was at home, in my own bed room,when,
my ring, I crept down stairs noiselessly us to my surprise, there was my next room 1
if I were about to do some shameful deed. neighbor sitting near my window, busily,
Oh, how happy and gay seemed every- working upon a little cap. The table was
thing in the street compared with me 4 The drawn up to her side,and upon it was some
sun shone, and the air was so calm and lace and ribbon. She plied her needle
, clear, and tut: faces ofthe people so cheer- briskly for a while without observing me,
' ful, as they passed to and fro under the and then held out the cap at arm's length,
long line of trees under the Boulevards. I and eyed it like a connosseur. Then she
I soon found a goldsmith, where I offered my worked a minute or two longer, and again
' ring. The man eyed me attentively for a she held it out,-when, suddenly holding it
moment, for there was, something suspi- sideways, she saw me looking at her
; cious in coming to sell a ring at so early "Does Monsieur want anything?" she
an hour. However he seemed satisfied asked.-- T . \
with my appearance, and having examin- "Yes," said I, "I wish to know the name
ed the stone, and tested the gold with of my unknown friend, who' has restored 1
aquafortis, he offered me sixty francs ; I to me a ring, given to me by my mother
believe two thirds of its value—but I ac- when dying, and which I
was mpe ;
The occupant of' the "other garret" sell it . for bread, two days ago. I cannot'
seemed to haunt me. I met her as I cross- guess what being has done this.. I har I
led the threshhold of the jeweler's door, re- no friend in Paris. and I entreatt spoken
I
to
with her baskettfull—a long loaf of this tos a soul. But I you, if I
land a melon forcing up the lid. I bid her you know, not to conceal the name, that 1
I good morning and passed on. I entered may bless it to my latest hour."
the restaurant and asked for breakfast, of "By-and-by, Monsieur you shall know
I
which I eat heartily, though I was care- all ; but at present—"
ful not to eat too much after my long fast. "Nay," I interrupted, "I entreat you to
; But in spite of my precautions I folk esc- tell me ; should I doubt? "It can
but why
1 tremely ill. My eyes were glazed; my be no other than yourself; and yet, I can
lips (as I saw in the glass) were black and not tell why you should thus interest your
-1
Iparched, and I trembled from head to foot. self for a poor stainer and a foreigner."
Ido not remember how I spent that day, "But would not Monsieur have done an
but all night long I lay in bed, burnt up equal kindnesa'for a stranger? There,"
with fever, and haunted by wild dreams. I she exclaimed, suddenly checking herself,
Sometimes I seemed to walk between "the secret which I meant to keep is told.
high leaning walls, that threatened to top- Mons. Gellert, the cure, always said I was
pie down and crush me; and I quickened a silly thing."
my pace to escape them, but their length "But why wish to conceal so good an
was interminable. At others,' climbed in action?" ,
darkness •Up a spiral staircase to the roof I "I do not know, except that I should
of some great cathedral; 1 heard the roll- ; have liked to wait till you wererich enough'
ing of organs like low thunder ; I climbed,' to repay me. Now you will tease your
and
climbed, fearing to be stifled, till, at I self about the money, though I am sure I
length I issued .on the roof; and looking Ido not want it. I never should have had
; down from the dreadful height, 1 saw a it, but for Mons. Gallart, the cure; for,
great city spread -below, and far away I you see, I never thought of saving money.
broad fields, and bill, tops crowned with ' I used to buy every week a new cap, and
1 windmills. A fear of falling took hold of` now and then a new dress till, one day,
me, but. I could not recede ; and I called Mons. Gallarkovortook nie in the c ogentmadow
aloud - for sortie one to come and drag DIP coming from mass, spoke to e
back to the little door. Then, perplexed youth, and how soon it was flown, and
with the sudden change, and asking; my- asked.rne if I had ever considered that one
self whether I dreamed or not. I stood in t day I . should be no longer young and
a level country, where there ;were long stong. And I said I had; but it seemed
broad • ditches, • filled with flags and bul; that so many long years must yass away
rushes bordered by stunted willows. Here before that tune come. He told me that
there was a .stagnant pond, its scummy he himsclf thought liko monce,:but now
surface stmt. with purple and green, its his hair ,had grown gray ; ,ho looked bank
long leathered grosses
. hunted by. splendid and saw how quickly , a man glides from
dragon:flies ; for it was a 'deep still moon youth to age. "Besides," he said "you i
tide,.and the blue and dazzling sky shut in may be taken ill," and you have.not a,
all that - broad landscape.' .And, although friend in the world, excepting me
I had thought myself theonly living being aril poor. Would it not be well to try and I
there'sr-Fol;altheugh my Mother hatt . been save a little money 7 Indeed," he said, "I
dead for many years
-,-I "turned apund would not ask you to forego ono, pleasure,
and found her standinghy me without sur- if I did not think it might spare you some
prise: She bade me go' with her, and . see future pain," An 'so he talked to mo in
what she would-show me.; •
Soon we stood this way. as we walked arm-in- arm, along
up,on.'n wido road, :and as I guessed, upon the foot-path through the fields, till we ,
the.e.ataltirts,Prp-,grgßt city, for theard a came loth!) road at Neuilly ; and then ho
iMise of a Multitude far otf; presently wo 1 blessed mo, and bade me good .by and
downre
tered the city by a . gate ; and wo looked tutned across 'the fields. And all the way
i
oon a broad lined .on each side home I though.ruporil-his words, and reset
with temples,andgreat hounes.,-samendless yed to buy fewer cap& and . dresses, and.
line of pillays,,for the street seorned ,t 9 tra- .now that is a year ago, and I have saved
Yurso,the,Whole, city; and at the hottom, a hundrqdfrancs,and next Sunday I would
ftir away, we Saw.blue mountains strateh- 1 have taken them to !pass with iTIO, and
the Old into the sky.
' We' Walked towards l'ivaited ter him
,again in the claret] yard,
thea•L-ti. greet crowd hecornprinying'us— 1 and have Shemin how ‘ I minded l-1 e
till we issued. by. another gate, and. saw l'imid, :and have asked what tO do with all
the field again . It 'suddenly grew .dark ;I my money." .
.!.. .•,' „:;',
but the crowd, continued ,to pour outward 1, "An4 , y9tl gi.VP11.4:'094.V,F0 for my
by' tbe city gates . " After a long . time oil sakt4 1" I .
.„, . ,
-.„, . „ ,
"Nay Monsieur—to what bettor use
could ho tell mo to - employ it 1 lam not
grown old yet. lam not ill--I had no use
for it." - - •
"God blesS you," I exclaimed, "I hope
soon to repay you the money ; though the
debt 'of gratitude I owe you I can never do
away. But how did you learn that I had
sold this ring, and where?"
"Oh, I partly guessed it, as you shall
hear. Madame Mallet came to my room
door, and said you .were very ill, and ask
ed me to come and watch you while she
fetched a doctor. I came in and sat by
the bedside till the doctor came and saw
you were in a high lever, and in great
danger, and you ought not to be left alone.
So I offered to sit by you,"for, you see, I
can work here as well as in my own room;
for I lose no tine. Madame Mallet offer
ed also ; and we agreed to attend upon
you by turns. And when I was left alone,
and you were asleep and dreaming,' heard
you talk of a ring, and entreating some
one to keep it for you till you came again,
and bought with a hundred times its val
ue. Then you gobbed and spoke rapidly
in a language I did not understand. Sud
denly I remembered meeting you at the
jeweller's door the day before; and I said
to myself, he has been compelled to sell a
keepsake, and this it is that preys upon
i his mind, and makes him ill. And 1 tho't
t!‘
.si
of my money, and blessed the good old
cure,- whose advice had enabled m to help
you. In the morning, I went out a..,
seal
with my basket and found again the' hop
upon the Boulevard Montmartre. 1 aslrU
if some ono had not sold a ring there the
day before. Tho man answered -yes. 1
toly him that you wished to-buy it again,
and he said that you could have it for eigh
ty francs. So I paid him the money and
brough the ring aivay. And then I thought
how surprised and delighted you would be
to find it on your finger on awakening; so
I contrived when your hand was stretched
out upon the coverlet, to put it on without
disturbing you."
My eyes were filled with tears at the
thought of so much simplicity and good
ness, I would have said a hundred things,
but I could not find a word to utter. 1
wished that she had been an English wo
man, that my emotion might speak, with
out restraint, in its natural language.—
She saw me striving to speak and stopped
me.
"You must not talk," she said. The
Doctor cautioned mo above all things, not
to let you talk or bo excited ; and hero I
have been chattering more than an hour,
and forgetting that I ought to go to mar.
ket."
So saying, she put on cap, and tak
ing her basket, went out and shut the door
noiselessly behind her. .
I lay 'in bed a fortnight ; and every day
she sat with me and chatted. The con
stant attendance was no longer necessary,
but I begged her to stay with me by day.
As I grew better the restraint diminished,
and all her natural cheerfulness began to
show itself. Her little•rounded figure gli
ded about the room. with all-the lightness
of a fawn. Sometimes she sat singing and
working, as if in her own room, and then
would check herself, and say that it
made my head ache ; till I begged her to
go on.
One day I said to her, "You have never
told me your name."
"Aimee : and yours'?"
"William Arnot," said I, shearing my
self of the final consonant to suit her
French ear—"in French, Guillaume Ar
not. It is not so pretty a one as yours,
which makes you always beloved," said I,
playitig upon the word.
"Nay, excepting M, Gellert, I do not
know a single being whom I can call my
friend."
"And how is this?" I asked—your aro
so kind and good?"
"I never knew my mother," she replied.
"My father was a vinegrower in a little
village in Lorraine; and M. Gellert was
the . cure there at that tithe. I had a sister
who -was very beautiful ; and M. Gellert
taught us both to 'read and write, and to
understand the best writers, whose works
ho lent us from his library. But my sis
ter was proud and never loved mo much:
and when she Married-a rich man, and
went to-Paris to liver she thought of us no
more. I forgave all this, but when my
father lay ill, and his . farm had gone to ru
in, we wrote .to her 'in vain. When he
died, - we.wrote ugnin, and had no answer,
I thought I never could forgive•her while
I lived. Tho good old cure had • been re._
moved , to the parish of St. Etienne, whore
ho preaches . now, sometime beibre my
father died ; but ho came to mo as soon as
he 'received the news, and arranged my
lather's funeral. - Afterwards, as I htid no
relatives in -the the village, M.Gallurt took
me to Paris with him and placed me with
Madame Armonville, a milliner in the Rue
Richelieu; where I learnt how to earn my
I have never. seen my sister since
I have been here; but once,' soon after I
came to Paris. I passed. by. her house. I
saw the windows brilliantly lighted, and I
*era .music. 'They had a party them that
night. 1 stood looltinfl up at the windows.,
and crying bittorly'. I would . have given
till that I rssessed to see my sister once
•••' . . .
more if only for a moment;to remind her the forehead once again. • And he begged
of the days we spent in our childhood.— us to conic home and dine we with
compli - hith With so I
But was afraid of being driven from the much eernestness that ed. •
I
door if I rang, and so I passed on, and half-guessed his reaSon. Ho had viewed
never went that way - again; that is my his- meat first with the anxiety with
his whicha
tory, Monsieur." far scrutinizes the child, •
"It is yery sad," I said. "I will not tell and he wished to have me longer with
you now, by what, strange order of events him that ho might better judge. We talk-
I also am friendless in the world. Some ed together all the afternoon, but Aimee
other time 1 will tell you all. Your story sat in silence, listening to our words. The
has made me sad, and I did not like to discourse of the old men,wies, full ".of deep
I dwell upon tho past. Let us rather look and practical philosophy. .It was the lan- .
forward to the futuro and like brother and gunge of a man grown weary in seek
sister, resolve to help and cherish one an- ing, in the eternal ebb Und flow. of history,
other while we live.' the tendency of life, and had fallen back
I took her hand and pressed it in my upon the present, and a good and holy,
own. I spoke hurriedly end earnestly, life, as the only certain things whiCh ri
for I felt most deeply every word I utter- can hold. In the evening he accompani
ed. A new source of tile had sprung up ed us hack to the church, whore we left
in my heart. I forgot how little I was in him, and took our way homewards. •We
a condition to help her—poor and wretch• looked back again from the hill tap, and
ed as l was. Tho sigdht
ill-treatedtf uch a no
the and a ble saw th level shaft e sun about
of light to sink into
shot t across' ho fore all
st,
creature despised, mid is by
world, preserving all hope and cheerful- that golden Sea of leaves. It was dusk
ness, and seeking only to do good to oth- when we returned. A foie days titter
ers, had made ine a new man. All life wards she received a letter from the old
stood out before me with another aspect. man; as he was accustomed to do at cer 7
I felt a stronger faith than ever I had be- tain intervals. He spoke favorably ofrrie,
fore, that all the evil in the world, the amongst other things, but cationed her to
thought of Ns , Well had long haunted and avoid, not only evil, but the appearance of
..
perplexed me, will one day vanish like the , evil, so that she might - escape the scandal
mist, and show the beauty of God's pur. of the world ch. was too far for her to visit
poses hid within. I was so happy, and so - The chur
filled with hope, that I thought 1 felt the regularly. But after she had been to mass,
near approach or better days ; and indeed we went together every Sunday to p.
from that time the current of my fortune cloud or Asnieres, or some other village,
ebbed and turned. in the environs. The fine weather ling
.
At tho end of three weeks I was so far I erect still. Tho trees under our window
recovered as to leave the house and renew were nearly bare, and the vine against the
my search for employment. I found a house had begun to shed its stalks, hut in
great change had taken place since I bad the country the trees were still thick with
kept my room. In every trade there leaves, for there had been no wind. 'The
seemed to be a new life ; and in a few days mornings became more misty, but at mid
i was engaged in the manufactory in the day the sun was warm. It seemed tho
Rue St. Denis. My employer was pleas- winter wouldallen never comthe e—such a golden
ed with my. work, and paid me well. My calm had f earth ; ilk one
first care was to repay my friend the me-1 monism while we talked of country ram ,
ney which I owed her. She arranged a bles,
snow nookedkeS out of m
in the st
y wiadow and saw
visit to the cure on the following Sunday, the fla falling reet.—
and showed him her money, as she had Then came the winter nights ' and how to
originally intended. I offered to accom. pass them? We could sip no longer our
pony her. coffe on the Boulevards, sitting at• the lit-
There are but few days in our lives . tie green table under the trees. Sometimes
which are not forgotten as soon es passed.l we played at chesS, which I had taught
Tho fete days in the calendar of our exis. her, and twice we
. went to the theatre to
tence are few and far apart. Yet some. gethcr. But this was not enotigh. One
times we come to a day which never pass- day I asked her if she would like to learn
es from our memory till we die. Every- English, and she
,eaid, "Yes," and prom
thing we thought and did upon that day ised to take pains to learn. I bought a
comes back upon us afterwards, when the little grammar, and began. The cure had
eye is filmed with thought, and all the pros. taught her well the principles of grammar,
ent is forgotten for a while. This Sunday so that she very quickly comprehended the
will live forever in my memory, one of the, rules. She applied herself with unwaver
\
foremost of such happy days. Wo - rose ing industry—even while she worked, she
early, and went out of Paris by the Bar- she.had her grammar open before her,
riere del l'Etoile. It was a still, cold au- conning the rules and learning them by
turmn morning. Tho mist that lingered heart; and at night I read with her, and
still, when we set out, had wholly passed explained the words and peculiarities. At
l away,and left a heavy dew upon the leaves, the end of five Months she could read it
and laid the dust upon the roads. W e pretty well, and began to try to speak.—
turned off from.the highway after awhile,' There was something so simple in her for
and took a foot path across the meadows sign accent, and her literal translations of
till we came to a deep valley, and stood the idiom of her own language, that I
still to look around for a time. Behind could not.help laughing. ' But she was not
us we saw the towers and triumphal arch- disCouraged, but would laugh too, and ask
es of Paris—the white houses of the out- me to explain her error, and promise to
skirts sprinkled, far and wide, among the speak better by.and-by.
trees. But below it was quite a landscape. The summer came again, and I worked
One side of the valley was plughed up to early and late, for we were very busy. It
the borders of a wood. In the hollow stood happened, at that time, wo hadsome work
the old church where we were going, ivy- to execute near Orleans ; and a little troop
squared, with a square tower. Behind of workmen were to•be sent there to stay
flowed the Seine, end, farther still, the for a couple of months. The master' lie
forest, called the Bois de Boulogne, piled lected ins to superintend them. The choice
up into tbo sky its masses of innumerable was a confidence, and I could not rofuseto
tints. We descended and entered the go. I told my friend of it in the evening.,,
church. We were late, for we had ling- I was' to leave Paris on the eve
w ning fo
allow
ored long to look upon that scene. My ing, and tho day previously, e arrnged
friend touched the incense brush, which to visit the old cure once again.
was presented to her at the door, but I did Yet another day, which will linger in
not. There was chuunting as we enterod my memory till 1 die !=the brightest of
butyresently the cure mounted the pulpit, those happy days! We went out early
and began to preach. He was a fine old t hi s time. It wes,the firit day r Jane—
man. His hair wascroy, but he was not a fine clear morning. • A 'gentle inin had
bald. His face was benign and placid, fallen in thri,night, rind eYery'thing looked
though at times,. it wore a somewhat care- fresh and green., We 'Walked Meng the
worn expression, and his forehead was ibordern of the eked and heard the black ,
planted deep with wrinkles. I listened bird, hidden in the leaves, 'sing out and
with delight to his discourse which seemed \ stop ; and then there' was a dead silence;
to harmonize with the mood wrought in my till another answered, deeper in the woods.
mind by the calm autumnal day, and the
Ii I had never soon her dressed so prettily
sight of that still - country ; for he preached : before.. She wore a dress of grey Merino,
not of dogdins, or of articles of faith, but of
I and a cape•of the same stuff. Her cap was
charity and love to all mankind. of taco, and pale blue ribbon. We did not
I • We waited for him in the 'churchyard, speak often. I' thought , of the separation
and when the whole of the congregation ` on the Morrow, and at every step I seem
'
had loft the chufeb, and the footpaths Were; oil to shrink from it mare. Afterieardekve
dotted. u ith them in their neat attire, the' went to St. Cloud, which was not 'far off.
et:reissued from the door, 'and the sextonl And all this time I had never spoken to
flistened tho great holes behind him. Ai- her of anything but friendAip, nor ever
inee ran' to meet him,_ and he kissed her: whispered to myself how I loved her.• My
on the forehead, end turnine• towards! love had been too' purelo know itself. We
me, said, "So .you have found a .new !wandered wandered in the park !Alit was tinie' to •
friend." ' - , go, and still we lingered. We sat downth reat oaks: and then,
• "No, Monsieur," ' said I; taking oft' my upon a seet, beneath g
hat with a feeling of revereece, "say, rat)- when the hour grew nearer, when we Were
er; that 1 have found a new friend ; for to to depart, I felt more deeply still how till •
her I owe my life and peace. of mind; and my soul was bound to her. I could not
as yet I have not found occasion to mako leaveher till I told her rill. ....-. •
.
her,a•roturn."Bieht Weeks passed' sloWly in the old
e
She loOked confused ; but the cure pat.. city of Orleans but every day I wrote to
, ,
ted her on' the head aed hogged me to hor, end she replied,--the solace °Goer
walk beside him, and tell him how this was.' seliturtnights. Slip told ma, - in her iinxi.
He walked between us in his sulked gown,' &ince of heart, hoiiishe had me'ress_
tied with a girdle Okra waist, and with fall' or since the day We Went to the Cerein the—.
head Uncovered, whilel 'related to him valley ; and how she . had feared. that L.
mystery. She hung down her t.ratl, but should never love her n's she loved mess
the old man raised it up' and kissed-her on for . , "yoe; alone" she said, ; "eould :Mike)-
.
•
, ..
I some. 1 insertion, 00 60 8 Wares 8 months. ' $
1•do ' 8.: do •tuuB So 8 months. 7 1 12
Each ealarequeoe do. 115 8 d column nths. 1
l Warne 8 Months, 060 t halfB months.° 00;
do . K menthe, 400 IL do do 8 months. 9 lar
d o 12 month's, 7001 do II do 18 00
2 d 8 months. '4OO I °Mama II months. .8 08
do • 0 months. 5501 do 0 4o 12 10
do; 12 mouths. -8 00 1 do li de 80 0 0
A. liberial redaction will be mado to Merchants and others
will) advent's' by the year:
Oar paper circulates In every neighborhood, and is read by
nearly every Itim me a nsnnte therefore affords I
coavanlent and ch o w for the badness own of Mil
county—the morclifint. mechanic owl all others—to eatena
the knowledge ot their immtion and boldness Wo tlionid
dire to insert ••A Card.' fon.every Mechanic. Merchant. end
w ro hoc s t o ° n m o m o an i n in g
utho nhoino ty e . a d W g e
c h o a um M s ea nd
E nome m ta
in a lesitimate holiness will lose by IlliMillliDi extensively—.
for, as a general mle the moro o tonne :ly a con adveriises.
the granter will bet his profits. - •
'BoOks, Tolfs'and Maas,
OP EVERY DESCRIPTION. PRINT.RD.IN TUB vim!
BEST STYLE, AND -ON Tile SHORTE.-ST
,
- NOTICE. AT THE OFFICE.OF
61 THE
ChrdiRFIEIR Rerußl.loA.”. 'r
_ _