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V orsets Lesen.
Everybody Should Read This
a sii?® inmost*
As people will buy where good goods are
sold cheap, and, as large sales at small pro
fits afford satisfactory pay for labor, time
and attention, we have determined to soil
oar now stocks of
just received, at the
VERY LOWEST LIVING PRICES,
thus insuring the trade and good will of our
friends, and offering inducements to all peo
ple to trade with us,
We have just opened the beßt and most
beautiful styles of prints we have ever han
dled from 12J to 20 cents,
Unbleached Muslin, from 15 upward,
Bleached " " 1G "
Our stock of FRENCH MERINOS, All-
Wool De Laiues, All-Wool Plaids, we will
close out at
Our large stock of Flannels, will be run
off at a very low figure.
Large Stock of Balmorals & lloop Skirts.
Full assortment of ladies' Dress Trimmings,
Buttons, Velvet Ribband, Ruffiiugs, Tape,
100 Breakfast Shawls worth $3.00 will bo
sold at $2 00.
Cloths, Cassimeres, Satinets, Jeans, &c. t
will be closed out at the very lowest figures.
Gents' Merino. Wool Shirts and Drawers
from SI.OO to $4 00.
Carpet Chain and Woolen Yarn at lowest
Sugar, from 10 to 1G cents,
Coffee, (Rio) from 28 to 33 "
Syrup, (tip-top) 25 "
Spices, Raisins, Dried Peaches, Currants,
Apples, Cherries, &c., constantly on hand.
. BRUSHES &c., &c.
' A full line of
at lowest cash prices.
The Fnllest Assortment of FANCY GOODS in
everything the gent, lady or child may desire.
Dobbins' and all other kinds of Soap.
Kaighn'g Cattle Powder Celebrated Through
ont the State.
A FULL, FRESH STOCK
NOTIONS AT WHOLESALE,
to which the attention of Country Merchants
is especially invited.
Each buyer will be certain to get the worth
of his money.
Store room and warerooms on the corner
af Valley and Mill streets, east of the Black
PRATT, LAW & PRATT.
Lewistown, January 30, 1867.
AFTER THE "W-A.R-
J. G. WHITTIKK.
He sits beside her, bronzed, but young,
Scarce seeming one day older
Than when, five'years ago, he Hung
A gun across his shoulder.
The same broad brow and sunny hair,'
The same frank, blue eyes smiling,
The face without a shade of care,
So earnest, yet beguiling.
Unaltered, and yet changed, for bright
Upon his breast is gleaming
The star whose ever beck'ning light
First set his spirit dreaming.
Its golden glories rise and fall
With each quick heart pulsation,
And he is only one of all
The brave ones of the nation.
Unaltered, yet changed, for see
Beneath the glittering spangles
Where his young, strong right arm should be,
An empty coat sleeve dangles.
Thus, in the autumn afternoon,
The blue mists slowly rising,
They sit as in that by-gone June,
When love first shunned disguising.
His one hand holding fast her twain,
The brave heart proudly swelling,
As breathe the fervent lips again
That tale so sweet in telling. .
Unchanged? no, dearer for the star
That has a hero named him:
But dearer for the life-long scar,
And the swift ball that maimed him.
And if she sought the wide world through,
Her heart could ne'er discover,
Nor fancy suitor, half so true,
As this, her one-armed lover.
BY MBS. N. ROBINSON.
The hour is midnight, and tho season summer. The
lull, round moon smiled a tender, subdued smile upon
the little, low-caved brown house, hedged in by roses,
and covered with vines. It fell through tho open door
in a broad sheet, and shone through the tossing vines,
falling in silver patches among the shadows on the floor.
There were two in the old browji house—an aged man
with sunken checks and glaring eyes and snowy hair,
resting upon a couch ; the other, a girl of sixteen, with
long, black curls, eyes as brilliant as the stars and dark
as a rayless night, and laco as pallid as the snow-white
locks her slender fingers were smoothing so tenderly
away from the wrinkled brow of her only parent. There
was no light in the room other than that of tho moon;
and a solemn, invisible Presence sat by the watcher and
the watchod. The eyes of the girl failed not to road the
unmistakable tokens presaging the coming of the Mes
senger; and though her cheek blanched, and her heart
quivered with anguish, she nover for a moment ceased
those gentle ministrations to the sufferer.
' Maud !' It was the voice of the dying man.
' Here, dear father,' she replied, pressing the stiffening
; Maud, lam going. Pvemember,dear, all that I have
said to you. \ou havo now no friend to care for you.
This poor shattered lrame can no longer stand between
you and life's storms; but, child, remember that tho
Father of all is your refuge. He will not forsako you,
darling. l)o you hear mo, my daughter?'
' \ es,' sobbed the girl, and burying her head in her
hands, sho cried : ' O, father ! father I'
' Don t, Maud! Bo strong. It is very beautiful whith
er I am going. Maud, darling, make life glorious with
good deeds. Aspire always. Be good and pure—bo
bravo in all circumstances. God is your father now.'
A long silence followed, broken only by the convulsive
sobs of the bereaved daughter, who had thrown herself
beside the dead, laying her head upon the bosom so fast
turning to ice. Hours flow by, and the moon went over
and stood in the west; deep shadows crept over the place
on tho floor where its radiance fell, and darkness filled
Anson Arlington, who lay dead in tho brown house,
had appeared a strange, taciturn man, to all save his
child. Ho had come among tho simple farmers with
Maud a babe in his arms, whence no one knew. He
gently but firmly repelled all tboir advances toward form
ing a more intimate acquaintance—rarely going out,
and devoting himself to his child.
A poor woman in tho vicinity prepared clbthing for
little Maud, and came twice a week to wash, iron and
bake, for which she was liberally remunerated.
He adored his beautiful Maud, and surrounded her
with everything in his power to render her noblo and
Gifted by nature, and studying undor so loving an in
structor, sho, at sixteen, fulfilled the rare promise of her
girlhood; and at this period her only earthly friend was
summoned away, leaving her the brown house r and gar
den—a thousand sweet, tender memories—tho books
they had' read together—and the education ho had given
her; a legacy more precious than gold.
Of her mother, Maud knew little. Sho had question
ed her father respecting her, but the query brought such
an expression of anguish upon the face she loved, that
sho forebore. Sho only knew that the portrait of a pale,
haughty woman, looking many years her father's junior,
hanging in tho parlor, was that of tho parent whom she
had never soeu. After the performance of the sad bori
rites, au , down to think upon some course to
pursue. The future looked "very dark to the orphan ;
but it would not do to spend precious moments in use
ess repining. She must act. Her last money had gone
to t e ray the funeral expenses, and in some way she must
procure a livelihood. Making up her humble wardrobe
in a small parcel, she put on her bonnet and shawl, and
closing the cottage-door behind her, looked about. There
was a e ear blue sky overhead—green fields and wood
lands stretching away to the right and loft, and in the
distance the spires of a large manufacturing town were
just visible. What drear, desolato feelings sweat over
lei as she closed the gate, and paused to gaze for a mo
ment upon familiar objects which sho might never be
hold again. She leaned against the old elms, whose
slender branches vibrated through the still air, aud wept
A voice came to her, saying, 4 G'od is your father now,'
and her grief softened. Sho looked unconsciously to
ward the heavens. There was no familiar form floating
there, buoyed up on angel pinions—nothing but white
v apor sailing along on a cool westorn breeze. Yet she
felt new courage coming to her heart, and whispered,
4 1 will not despair.'
footsore and weary, when tho sun had reached its
meridian, she paused before a large, aristocratic-looking
dwelling. I hero was something repellant about the
massive stone structuro, but she said resolutely, 4 1 will
try.' And ascending tho granite stops, she touched the
' I wish to seo. your mistress,' she said to the servant
The menial eyed her superciliously, left her a fow mo
ments, and then returning, conducted her to a gorgeous
apartment, where, reclining upon a sofa, was the mis
tress of tho mansion—a handsome woman, haughty and
passionate-looking. Maud shivered beneath the search
ing gaze of the stony, gray orbs, and a dim memory of
<i faco like that of the splendid female heforo her arose
like a troubled vision.
4 To What happy eircumstanco am I indebted for this
visit/' asked the lady in a cold sneering tone.
4 1 am friendless and poor, and camo hither hoping to
find some employment as a governess.'
4 Indeed !' ejaculated tho lady, running her eye over
the faded but neat apparel of Maud. 4 Unfortunate, poor,
destitute—the old story! Doubtless you are a worthy
young lady, have moved in good society, are refined, etc.'
Maud's C3 r es flashed, but sho only remarked :
4 1 will endeavor to prove myself worthy of your re
spect and confidence, if you will permit me.'
4 Possible ? How very kind of you ! 4 Here,' sho con
tinued, shoving a book toward Maud, 4 can you read
Maud read clearly and readily a fow passages, after
which she was subjected to a rigid examination in Latin,
the higher English branches, and music; at the conclu
sion of which, her future employer said:
4 My name is Mrs. Lamoille; and my niece, Miss Ger
aldino Mott, aged twelve years, of whom you will have
the charge, and a cousin, Gustavus Lamoille, with my
self, comprise the family. What, may Ibe permitted to
ask, is your name?'
4 Maud Arlington.'
Mrs. Lamoille, sprang to her feet—a fiorce, deadly
light glowing in her eyes, and her face colorless as fall
1 What?' she gasped.
1 Maud Arlington.'
Mrs. Lamoille sank back, while a hateful expression
came over her countenance.
' King tho bell,' she ejaculated, imperiously waving
her hand to Maud, who obeyed in silence.
A servant quickly answered the summons, whom she
bade bring Miss Geraldine to her.
Soon a child, beautiful as a dream, with long golden
curls, clear, sunny eyes, and step like a fawn, entered,
and crossing the room, asked :
.' What do you wish, dear aunt ?'
'To present to you your governess—Miss Arlington.'
Tho name was pronounced in a sharp, disagreeable man
' 1 am sure I shall love you,' said the child, advancing
and placing her hand in thatofMaud.
Mrs. Lamoille frowned, ami commanded servant
to show Miss Arlington her room, saying as' she arose
' I shall expect you to set at the table with tho family,
and hopo you will deport yourself as becomes tho gov
erness of my niece,'
She well knew that this last insult would ho keenly
felt by the sensitivo girl, in whom, despite her own hard,
ungontle nature, she had perceived purity and native
For a moment, Maud lost sight of the good principle
hitherto hor guide, and stood flashing back upon tho ar
rogant woman the indignation burning within her soul;
hut it was only for an instant. A remembrance of the
words uttered by loved lips, now motionless beneath the
clammy fingers of death, dispelled all angry feeling.
* CHAPTER 11.
Maud met tho family at. the tea-table. Mrs. Lamoille,
stiffly inclining her head toward her, said:
' Mr. Lamoille—our governess.'
The young man bowed slightly, fixing a pair of largo
eyes upon Maud, who experienced an unaccountable fas
cination until those scintillating orbs were withdrawn.
Mr. Lamoille and his cousin conversed on a variety of
topics, in no way adverting to or addressing Maud, who,
pained and deeply embarrassed, excused herself early
and withdrew to her room. Her labors for tho day woro
done, and she sat there with a weary, heavy sensation
at her heart. .Night spread its shadows darkly beneath
the feathery pines and under tho hill; but the moon sil
vered the forest-tops and tho open valley, and coming in
at the window, tenderly enfolded the young mourner in
its radiant sheen. Musing alone there on the present,
so bitter with trial and sorrow, on the past—with its
delicious, as well as mournful recollections, she heard,
oven in hor revorie, tho voices of Gustavus and Mrs. La
moille in earnest conversation ; then Lamoillo came out
on the piazza, and began pacing up and down. She
could see him distinctly in the moonlight. Ho was tall
and massively built, yotof elegant proportions. He had
a haughty tread, and a defiant way of folding his arms
over his chest. His face was dark and unreadable, his
hair jetty and luxuriant, and his eyes flashed and cor
ruscated like diamonds.
Weeks sped away, during which Maud completely
won tho love of Geraldine, whom she found intelligent,
gentle, and assiduous. Mrs. Lamoille remained repelling
as at first—the keen, cold, gray eyes lookod as stony,
and in no way did the proud woman acknowledge that
the poor, but beautiful and gifted governess, was enti
tled to the least consideration; while tho latter, in her
presence, was always startled by her resemblance, to
some one whom she had seen before.
Gustavus Lamoille soldom addrossed Maud, yet she
never lifted her eyes, save in the solitude of her own
chamber, without meeting the fascinating gaze of thoso
inexplicable orbs; and at such times, a power irresisti
ble seemed chaining her to her seat.
She was happy only while in the society of her pupil.
At length, when Maud had been at Mrs. Lamoille's
nearly a year, that lady was seized with a most violent
malady, and the servants, all save one, fled in affright.—
(nistavQs placed Geraldino out of tho reach of danger,
and then returned to the infected dwelling.
.laud s womanly heart would not permit her to for
sake Mrs. Lamoille, though thore wero no ties of grati
tude to bind her to the spot, fraught only with unhappy
momones. Bay after day she minißterod to tho suffer
er, who, wild with delirium, uttered—when life had near
ly ebbed to its close—in the ear of Maud, the startling
4 1 am your mother, Maud Arlington !' sho shouted.
4 I never loved your fatbor, and I hated you, you looked
so much like him. I tried to smother your worthless
life out when you was a babe—but ho foiled me. Thoo
I struck deeper at his heart; and agonized at my perfi
d} r , ho took you and fled from mo! Ila, ha ! He forgot
the riches, which I hastened to bear boyond his reach.
beggared you both. 4 Seo thore, Maud P she ejacula
ted, springing upright, and pointing to a darkened cor
ner— 4 Your father! Beckon away, old dotard. I won't
come. O, my God, I am dying!' and shrieking a loud,
hideous shriek, she fell back dead.
Maud remained # pale, breathless, and shocked at the
terrible scene, and'the words of the dying woman.
Lamoille sat opposite, regarding her with a straugo
intensity. Presently Maud whispered:
4 Mr. Lamoille, can you tell me tho meaning of those
A sinister smile curled the scornful lips of Lamoille,
as he answered slowly and deliberately:
1 She was your mother After she forsook your fath
er. she camo hither and lived with me.'
He paused to watch the effect of his words. Maud,
terribly agitated, gasped :
4 Sho could not; my own mother could not have done
so unwomanly a thing !'
' Sho did, nevertheless,' sneerod her tormentor, 4 and
your father was cognizant of the fact.'
' My poor, poor, father!' murmured the horrified girl.
4 It is no wonder you never smiled.'
Lamoille's black, fathomless eyes regarded her oven
when—in tho heavy stupor which had come upon hor
sho seemed unconscious of his presence.
4 You are to fill your amiable mother's place,' he said,
crossing to where she sat, and laying his hand on her
Sho felt in every fibre the subtle mesmeric power of
tho]lußtrous orbs which appeared penetrating her very
She would have spoken, but her lips were frozen, and
would not move; her tongue chained, and a deadly
weight pressed upon her brain.
Few people camo to Mrs. Lamoille's funeral; they
feared infection, and they kept aloof. Poor Maud, with
a flood of discordant emotions surging up in her heart,
beneath an exterior of perfect apathy, behold her old
enemy placed in the family vault, and almost uncon
sciously, Lamoille became her constant attendant, and
with a fiendish joy, which he took no care to conceal,
went on weaving about his helpless victim thosostrong,
intangible cords holding her in such loathsome bondage!
Humors derogatory to both were circulated by the
lovers of scandal, which, through a faithiul servant,
reached tho oars of the miserable girl. It was a rare
exemplification ot the ascendancy gained by a string,
wicked being over one physically weak. Maud, under
the baleful influenco of Lamoille, seemed gradually for
getting tho past, and losing intelligence; and be with a
zest, favoring of duibleire, watched coolly, and trium
phantly, the sad spectacle of a mind sinking into idiocy.
Having established, beyond a doubt, in his belief, that
Maud was fully and irretrievably under bis control, he
left her one evening, for the first time since Mrs. La
moille's death—three months having elapsed 6inco that
It was a dark, starless night, and a south wind moan
ed drearily through tho yews and quivering aspens with
out, and penetrating crevices, flared the pyramids of
flame capping the tali waxen tapers burning on the mar
Maud crouched before the fire, listening to the voice
of the approaching storm. Thoughts began to move
.like shadows through her sluggish mind. There was a
sensation of pain as she gradually awoke from her long
mesmeric sleep, and became conscious of tho life she had
for weeks been leading. Sho shuddered as memory, in
pact, reproduced the wretched past. She started to her
feet, glancing fearfully around, and, perceiving herself
alone, bounded from tho apartmenfr, out into the dark
ness. \\ ith feet swiftly impelled by terror—for she was
now fully aroused from the lethargy imposed upon her
by the demon in human form —Lamoille—she fled to
ward her early home. The gray dawn of morniDg came
in rain and tempest, when Maud reached the door of tho
cottage. The elm-boughs vibrated slowly, for they
wero heavy with moisture, and tho birds twittered in
the rosebushes—just criraspning with unfolded buds.
She lifted the latch, and went in; a damp, musty odor
greeted her senses. Sick, and almost insensible, she
flung herself upon tho couch, last pressed by her dying
father; and then ensued a wild delirium, induced by the
fierce fever raging through her veins. She thought the
rain-drops pattering upon the mossy shingles were bul
lots dropped by Lamoille into her burning brain, and
tho rosebush tapping against tho window was his fingers
on the panes.
I 1 rom this deliriujn she awoke, one evening, just as
the setting sun was tinging with gold tho deep shadows
under the trees. Through her partially closed lids she
saw widow Brown (who came to tho cottage in her
childhood to labor for herself and father,) sitting by the
open door knitting. She heard tho tea kettle bumming
on the coals, and inhaled the aroma of tho boiling tea.
>*he felt weak and languid, while a sensation of perfect
peace and security stole over her.
A now life was opening upon her perceptions—a life
of wider activity and truer aspirations. The words of
her dying father had a deeper import than hitherto.
She had a bitter experience, but it made a grand ba
sis for tho superstructure builded in the aftertime.
The neighbors were kind to Maud, and with their aid
she established a school, which was liberally patronized*
while Mrs. Brown became her ally in the Household
Thus a year passed quietly away. Maud remembered
the time spent at Mrs. Lamoille's ever with a shudder.
She had expected Lamoille would seek her out in her
humble retreat —but no tidings of him had reached her.
He might have died as well as her former pupil—(feral
dine; but she shrank from making any inquiries.
One evening in mid-winter, when the air was filled
with descending snow—which the wind in its erratic
gambols tossed wildly about—Maud sat alone before
comfortable fire. Her scholars had gone to thoir re
spective homes, and Mrs. Brown had been summoned to
the bedside of a sick child. The clock on the bureau
bad just chimed eight, whori a heavy step, partially
muffled by the drifting snow, sounded on the stone step
without; then the door was unceremoniously pushed
open, and the form of a man, deeply muffled in furs
paused before the somewhat startled girl.
'You do not recognize mo?' said "the stranger, in a
hoarse, rattling voice.