ALLE LEUTE SOLLEN DIESEN 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 PRINTS, MUSLINS, &C., 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 COST. 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, Trimmings, &c. 100 Breakfast Shawls worth $3.00 will bo sold at $2 00. Gents' Goods. 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 figures. Groceries. 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. TUBS, BASKETS, BUCKETS, BROOMS, . BRUSHES &c., &c. ' A full line of Queens-ware, at lowest cash prices. The Fnllest Assortment of FANCY GOODS in the County. Fancy Soaps, Perfumery, Pocket Wallets, NICK-NACKS AND JIM-CRACKS, 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 or 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 Bear Hotel. PRATT, LAW & PRATT. Lewistown, January 30, 1867. SiPPIMIT TO THE Gazette. 'szmm 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. CHAPTER I. 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 hand. ; 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 the apartment. 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 womanly. 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 bitterly. r 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 boll knob. ' I wish to seo. your mistress,' she said to the servant who appeared. 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 *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. CHAPTER nr. 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 duties. 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.