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trouble about. Let me see-one part of the concert W
to bo sacred and the other profane—l hope that doesn t
mean that it is to be wicked. If I may choose, I prefer
appearing in the sacred part, I will sing eepct ari
deeper still." . , ,
There ran a sort of terrified gasp through the assem
bled ladies 31 r Crane, who liked, to be everywhere,
and hear everything that went on.. sacked the knob of
his stick and chuckled. At last somu one said very fee
bly, ' What, that grand thing!—the song John Braham
made immortal ?'
' Did he r said Hugh. ' I should have thought the com
poser had some hand in doing that. Don't youappioto
of my choice V
'ltis a difficult song,' was the reply. 'Do\ ou know
the recitative ?'
< Recitative,' repeated Hugh, absently ; 'O, to be sure.
That is, of course I shall get the music, and my sister
will run through it with meat home. 1 don t think jou
will want me . t the rehearsals,' he added, with a twin
kle in his eye. ' I wish you good evening.'
Mr. Carton's step was more elastic than usual as he
went awav. Perhaps the fresh summer air and the
beauty of woods and fields did him good. At any rate
it was with a verv bright face that lie stopped at (he
little door in the wall that divided Mrs. Wynne's garden
from his park, lie opened this door, listened, and shook
his head, but indignantly. Some one was playing a pi
ano which was not in very good tune. By and-by the
sound ceased, and a little figure eaine to the window,
peeped through the muslin curtains, and saw him. 31r.
Carton took off his hat, as she inet him at the door.
'I thought you didn't play,'he said.
'I don't-for visitori,'was the reply;'but mamma
likes it. I was only trying a bit from 'Oberson.' It is
sueli sparkling music, just as if the writer were just so
brimful of happiness and mirth that lie didn't know
what to d'> with himself.'
' Then you cor. hi n't fancy the man who wrote it dy
ing slowly while ho wrote? said Mr. Carton, gravely.
' What judges we are all of us !'
' Was Weber dying when he wrote ' Oboron'?' asked
'Yes,' replied Mr Carton, 'and knew that he was.—
He wrote it for an English opera company, and came to
England to put it on the stage. He left his wile and
bairns behind him in the far off country, and worked
all the harder in the hope of seeing them once more be
fore he died He never did, though It's sad. isn't it ?
We won't talk about it. What's that puzzled face for?'
'I was wondering,' said Beijtie, 'how you, who don't
care for music, came to know all this about Weber, and
to be so interested m it'
' I may know something of the life of a clever man,
though ewotchets and quavers were Greek to me, mayn't
I?' laughed Mr Carton. 'And how can you tell that I
don't care tor music, eh?.'
' Well, you never say anything about it,' replied Ber
tie. 'And then the choir—'
'O, the choir,' said Hugh, slowly. ' But then you see,
in the foreign churches, at least some of them, one might
get a little spoiled for—your choir ?'
'Don't call it mine,' said Bertie. ' They wouldn't ad
mit me if i wanted to join it, which 1 do not. for I
couldn't spare time as the others can '
' Why wouldn't they admit vt?' he asked.
'O, I don't know.' replied Bertie, with a little shrug
of indifference. 1 I'm insignificant and a nobody, and
then my voice is neither one thing nor another—not
worth you know. I can't go up to B nor down
to wonderful depths, Mr. Carton."
' Will you let me hear it?' said Hugh quickly.
'Are yon serious?' said Bertie, looking up, with a lit
tle flush of astonishment.
' Indeed 1 am, he replied. 'Sing something for rnh.'
Mr Carton was silent for a while after the song was
finished, and he looked over Bertie's music discontent
'These don't suit you,' he said at last. 'I wish yon
would let ine get some soprano thing's for you. lam
going to send to London. Ah, by t!o way, I havn't
told you about that. I hope I shali not disgrace mysclt;
but 1 am going to sing a solo at this grand concert.'
4 It's quite true,' said he 4 Don't look so terrified. —
Your amateur performers are always indulgently allow
ed to blunder. Is it not so? What o'clock is that?' lie
added, suddenly. 'I had no idea it was so late; and
Ethel will be waiting for inc. That reminds me, Miss
Bertie; take my thanks for all your kindness to her,
and to me, through her. And now let pay my respects
to Mrs. Wynne, for 1 must go.'
Mr Carton was a bachelor, and rich; so it would
never do for Dyke wood to ofieud him outright. Ife
must sing his song; that was, if some happy chance did
not interfere to prevent it. It the Dykehanibury mag
nates did make fun of them all, they mu t bear it. Mr
Crane said it would serve them right for besieging the
man as soon as In* came among them; and of course he
would make a tool of himself. The ladies comforted
themselves with the reflection that a failure would do
hirn good; would make him more humble and tractable,
and teach him not to make remarks about the choir.—
But little Bertie Wynne went about with a troubled face
among the flowers, and told herself, with rising anger,
that she hated the concert, and that nothing should'
ever induce her to go to it. She was thinking this one
Evening contentedly, while her busy scissors nipped away
bei e ami there a dead rose from the standards, when
suddenly a voice, which she knew pretty well by this
time uttered her name, and she looked up and saw Mr.
Carton's brown face above the wall on which his hands
4 lhe loses are finer than in tie,' he said, demurely.—
4 May I have one oftiyjm if I come for it?'
He did not wai* for an answer, but raised himself to
the top of the wail.and then dropped on the other aide.
' It a so far round to the gate,' he said, glancing at a
wicket about three yards distant. 4 And besides 1 feel
a "I'- 100 ' h °l slilL 1 nevei- Bee a wall like this
! , ! anll , n; ; J? cl,mb over 5t - Now for my rose.'
Beitie banned him the scissors, but Hugh said. 4 No
you ww. u m >- buuo " hoi J ,*
question quietly, and in a tone which
had lost its lightness, for, looking down at her as she
obeyed bis command, lie saw her face was pale and
fancied her fingers trembled. ' '
4 What a ruffian of a fellow I am!' said be. 4 What is
it: Mrs. Wynne—
4No, no,' interrupted Bertie; 4 mamma is all rhdit- it
isn t that. And there s nothing the mutter, only— \£ r
Carton, I want very much to say something to you if
you're sure you won't be angry.' '
4 Angry?'said be. 4 We ought to he friends by this
time. Miss W ynne. \on are not afraid of me "
4 No.'said Bertie; 4 but-1 wanted your sister to say
it, but she wouldn t. She said that 1 must speak to you
myself, tnat you would not listen to her Mr r-.wr,,
it's about the concert.' ' t0n >
Hugh's face changed in a moment. Subdued mirth
gleamed in his eyes, and twisted the corners of his lin*
at thai 1 moußtathe > b,,t rlie was not looking
Ue slid th ' nk 1 Bhall make aworße meBS t,uln the rest?'
Bertie did not answer; she was looking away over the
woods toward the spires of Dykehambury, some miles
'Mr. Carton, everybody* is talking abort the concert,'
continued Bertie. 'You see, it is not the thing as it
would be if it" were confined to Dykewood and the choir.
The Dykehambury Music Hall is a very grand place,
and then people will come from all parts—'
' For fun of hearing what a fool I shall make of my
self, eli?'" said Mr. Carton.
' Well, don't you perceive that by such means I shall
be adding to the receipts? And as it is forcharity 0110
shouldn't mind being laughed at.'
'But, Mr. Carton, you don't know—'
' But, Miss Wynne, you don't know how I was beset
on all sides about th is affair just at first,' interrupted
Mr. Carton. 'They have begun to look coolly on mo
now, I am aware; so tee how amiable I am to be still
willing to help '
'But if you can't?' said Bertie.
' A man never knows what lie can do till he tries ' said
i Mr. Carton.
hy, 3-m don t even attend the rehearsals' said
There was an involuntary movement of Mr. Carton's
; hands toward his ears. ' No,' said he, ' 1 do not; and
j have not got the song yet.'
Bertie lurried a horror stricken face toward him.
'Do yott know that the concert is fixed for Wednes.
; day V she asked.
I ' \ es, r plied Hugh. ' [ expected to get 1113* packet
|by post this morning, but it didn't come. I wonder if
I remembered LO put in the address? he added with a
, spirit oi mischief he could not control.
Mr. Carton,' said Bertie, 'don't do it'
| Hugh's air or' light raillery changed altogether at these
pleading words. He bent down and took the two nor-"
| vous little hands in his, and his face was very grave
' You don't iiko me to be made fun of,' lie said. ' You
1 are unhappy that is, anxious, on my account, Bertie?'
'Yes—and Ethel's,' added Bertie, quickly. She hard
! 13* knew what made her add that. Perhaps it wasstme-
I thing in his face which she had never seen before; or it
might have been the consciousness that he had called
her by her name lor the first time. If she had looked
at liiru then she would have seen that a debate was go
ing on in bis mind. But she did not. He was silent for
some minutes, still holding her bands; then dropping
them, he turned away, and said, coldly, • I shall hope to
see you at the concert, nevertheless, Miss Wynne; don't
j disappoint me.'
The words fell chili on Bertie's heart, and she took a
step toward him.
' You are angry,' she said. ' T have offended you.'
' Xo. Good-night,' lie replied.
Mr. Carton never looked back once, but went out bv
j the gate this time, soberly enough, and walked away
1 along the park. And Bertie stayed among the roses,
1 thinking she had done a foolish thing; wishing that
| vainest of till wishes, for the past back again, till it grew
! late, till the moon came out, and she went into the house
j with the heart ache.
I . V '
I he clocks in the great square of Dykehambury were
j striking seven, and one solitary gentleman was wander-
I ing about the orchestra of the music hull. The organ
stood ready open and this gentleman went up to it and
examined the stops; but lie could not have done nothing
further if he had desired it. since there was no one to
blow for Inm, From the organ lie turned to the gland
piano, struck a few chords, and broke off with u gesture
of amusement. Jl was the air the variations of which
lie had so unceremoniously cut short for Miss Grafton,
flien this solitary gentleman espied in one corner a
violin with its bow stuck invitingly across it. A strange
1 expression stole over his face at the sight of this, lie
look off his gloves, and went up to it softly, looking
round him as if he had been going to do some guilty
thing. He had only time to adjust the instrument care
lessly to its place, and to draw from it one long chord,
when another step came up the stairs, and the conduc
tor stood before him. Hugh Carton positively blushed
as he put down his prize with reluctant fingers, lie
glanced with a comical deprecation at the new comer,
who knew 110 better than other people what were the
powers of this bold soloist, and said, half smiling: 'Who
knows? I might play as well as sing, if I tried.'
lie "then selected his corner in the orchestra and took
his seat. lie did not care about all the fuss and bustle
of the green room, and be sat, indolently watching the
take their places, the arrangement of
harps and music stands, and the gradual filling of the
hall down below, till the conductor came forward with
bis baton, and the overture began. Xo one who looked
at him would have thought that Hugh heard anything.
He never moved a muscle of his face, never looked up
even when the first soprano solo brought forth an en
core, so clamorous that it had to be complied with lie
was perfectly passive and immovable until his owtKurn
can e, when lie stepped forward and took up his music.
Even Hugh himself could not help being conscious
of the subdued rustle that swept through the hall at bis
appearance, a rustle of excited anticipation; a sort of
self-gratulatory preparation to be critical. He knew
tb it there were snides more cynical than pleasant on
some faces, and that opera glasses were being leveled
at him. His blooi might have flowed u little more
quickly in his veins perhaps, as he looked down upon the
audience below him, but tiiat was all. He could not see,
though perhaps he guessed intuitively, that Bertie
Wynne had her head bent down, and her hands pressed
tightly together in an agony of suspense for him; for
Bertie had retracted her decision not to be present. —
She hud found it impossible to sta\' away; and she will
never forget the moment when the first notes of Hugh's
recitative broke on her ear, and the littlo rustle in the
ball sunk suddenly into breathless stillness. Bertie's
bead was raised, and the flush of nervous dread left her
(ace. She had never heard anything like this before; it
was very possible that Dykeharnbury never had either.
The silence remained unbroken for some moments
after the song was finished, and then the applause breko
out in a deafening clamor, that would not cease until
Mr. Carton came back, spoke a word to the accompanist,
and substituted "Angels ever bright and fair." • '
The rest of the concert was hopeless confusion to
Bertie Wynne In the interval she heard dimly the
exclamation of astonishment and delight that passed
from lip taj |jj) around ly;r; she even recognized the
harsh chucldc of Mr. Crane, as lie asked old Mrs. Graf
ton what she thought of the choir after that; and she
was vaguly watchful of that one figure sitting silent
and grave .in the orchestra, never moving, never seem
ing to notice anything that went on, and to all appear
unco profoundly unconscious of the commotion which
us wonderful voieo had stirred up in the hall. She
knew little more until she found herself in Mrs. Grafton's
carnage, and saw Hugh at the window petitioning for
a seat. He did not say much after he got in. '"The
stars were very bright, and the air of the summer night
was very sweet alter the close music hall. Perhaps
although there had been no passage in Bertie's quiet
so wonderful as that drive home from Dykeharnbu-
I j, 1 V'f. gate in the wall, they bo'th got out,
Yi" lL 8 chaperon drove away, with a caution to
r. ai ton to see her safe into the house. Hugh took
oil his hat to the retreating carriage, significantly, and
stood in the gateway, looking down at the little figure
all in white beside him.
'Well?' ho said smiling.
11 I never heard anything so beautiful in
my life, said Bertie. l \\ hy didn't you tell us?'
' 1 ell you whathe asked; 'that j. once made a living
by singing in public? I never said That I knew noth
ing ot music it- was taken tor granted; and. excuse
me, \ our Dykehambury people are rather supercilious,
they amuse me a little. One only, out of all, did "not
sneer, hut took a part that would have been doubly
kind i! 1 had been the presumptuous tool thev thought
me. Did you thiuk I did not know the sort of dead him
on, it win he tun.' that posssesscd all Dykewood— you
excepted ' \et one evening I was sorely tempted to
teli. Do von remember?'
'1 tnink so, said Bertie, as •.die made a step toward
the house, but lie stopped her.
'One moment,' said Hugh. 'Something else dates
from that same evening. My pulses are. riotously quick.
I can tgo home till they are. quieter. I began to think,
Bertie, that evening, that i might give 1113- little iriend
arid counsellor a dearer title. It's very sweet to hope.
'l'm not fit." said "Bertie.
•\ou are in 3- pearl ot price that 1 meant to win for
myselt, il I could, said Hugh 'Listen: no; thus, with
3'our hand in mine, that 1 may feel it 3*oll shrink from
me. .My father married an Italian opera singer, and
was cut oti with a shilling for doing so Do 3*oll think
the worse of me for my mother's sake ?'
'No,' replied Bertie."
•1 have been next door to a pauper,' he continued. 'I
have done the hardest manual labor, finally, I have
been a public singer myself. Do you think the worse
of mc for a!! tid- ?'
111 voluntarily. Dart ie crept a little closer to hi in. which
. .was answer • utiieient.
'lr tiiosc rdlent woods and lawns could speak, the 3*
would tell how 30U have haunted them .with your
I ghostly presence. Come and make it real for me. I
j-sliall come to-morrow, and the next day, and every dav
until 3 011 wiil let me take 3*oll home. These tilings
creep -out, don t they, Bertie ? To-morrow all Dyke
wood will know what came of the grand J)\ kehatnburv
' 1 iiey will say that 1 am not good enough for you,'
j returned Bertie.
-Mr. Carton s answer as unimportant. He waited
j until the hall door had close 1 after Bertie, stayed a little
; while longer, looking up at the light in her window,
and then went off to walk up and down fn the starlight
| and wonder that Fortune was good to hirn, just as he
used to wonder in the old days at the strange grudge
she seemed to bear him.
ENCOUNTER. BETWEEN AN ELE
PHANT AND A RAT-
A very extra'- ' : .ary encounter between a raft and an ele
phant has recently taken pJaee in the (jarden of Plants,
London, which w;, w:uu --sed with interest by hundreds of
I'l'" keeper- w■ en age lin de>:royina a great many rats,
when one of them escaped and ran to the spot allotted to
the elephant. Feeing no other refuge, in the twinkling ol"
an eye the rat snugly ensconced himself in the trunk of the
elephant, very much to tin elephant's dissatisfaction. He
stamped his foot and twisted his trunk round like the sail of
a windmill. After these evolutions lie stood suddenly still,
evidently reflecting on what wa- best to do. He then ran
to the trough where he is accustomed to drink, and plunged
his trunk into the water, then returned to his den, and raised
his trunk; with the water lie absorbed, he dashed out the
unfortunate rat, which was in a sheet of water like that is
suing from a lire engine. When the rat fell to the ground
the elephant seized him and made him undergo the immer
sion and projection four times. At the fourth throw it tell
1 dead. The elephant with a majestic air, but cool and placid,
crushed his annoying little enemy* with his foot, and then
went round to the spectators to make his nsual collection of
cakes, sugar and other dainties. The feat was received with
, vociferous applause, which the elephant seemed fully to un
derstand and appreciate.
A STRANGE STORY.
A few nights ago a respectable farmer, resident in the
I neighborhood of Barton was driving froiu bis home in
search of a nurse, when his attention was suddenly called
in a field through which there is a public footpath. Alight
ing from his gig, the farmer Hastened to the spot, where he
; saw a laboring man had been digging a grave. At the sight
: of the farmer he made off, leaving the lantern and spade
j heldifd him, and also an overcoat, which the farmer took
I possession of. Journeying a little farther in ihe direction of
' lirigg, he met a woman, who said she was going to meet her
sweetheart at the lonely spot indicated. Believing that foul
play was intended, the farmer drove (lie girl to her own
I house. Theaffair is now being investigated.— Jie<tdin<j Times.
Punch's direction how to make a hole in your income is
sound, —to pay a large-rent.
Cut a dog's tail short, and he can't wag it. " Brevity js
i the soul of wit," but not of waggery.
The man who made a shoe for the foot of a mountain is
now engaged 011 a hat for the head of a discourse.
Facts should always be stated in black and white. Any
thing written in red ink, of course is ink-red-ihlc.
Which is the strongest day of the seven? Sunday, be
' cause the others are week days.
| MMAiMS iiV Mmi
Attention is directed to the
I AM AUTHORIZED TO SELL.
Taking into consideration their convenience to mar
ket, location in quiet sections where law and order and
freedom of action and opinion prevail, and price, these
lands are more desirable and
CHEAPER AS HOMES
than any offered in the former pro-slavery regions.
SEE LIST IN GAZETTE AND DEMOCRAT.
Ageii t for Sale of Real Estate.
Lewistown, February 27, 1867.
FROM THE '
Arrival of More NEW GOODS
II [TTEN"HOUSE & McKINNKY bog
leave to inform the public that they have
;jusf received a new and fresh assortment
i of Goods, and prices to suit all.
Muslins from 15 to • 25cfs
I Calicoes " 12A to 20 "
Wool Delaines from 50 to 05 "
i Merinoes " 1 40 to
1 Alpriccas " 50 to 125
.Vi 1 Wool Flannels from 40 to 85
Shirting Flannels " 50 tn 85
Table Diaper " 55 to 65ets
Balmoral Shirts " 2.50 to 2.90
Siu.-;!e i dou'e Shawls " SUO to 10.00
lire ikfast Shawls " 200 to 4.00
Woolen Hoods " 50 to 1.75
Buck Gloves 1.25 to 2.50
No. 1 Kid Gloves " 175 to
Assorted Gloves " 25 to 1.00
Drawers from 87 to -2 50
; Cas imeres " 100 to 2.75
Also, a large and splendid assorfment of
Whole Suits from 15.00 to 80.00
Also, a good assortment of
BOOTS & SHOES, HATS & CAPS,
Loaf Sugar, 18 cts.
A. White Sugar, 10, 17 "
Brown Sugars, 10. 13, 14, 15, 11
Crime Coffee, 29, 31 "
No. 1 Teas, 40, 45 •<
Dice, 12 "
Fyrups, 25, 88, 88 "
Sugarhouse Molasses, 15 "
Washing Soaps, 15, 10, 20 "
No. 1 Cheese, 25 "
Congress & Spun Tobacco, 100 "
No 1 Navy Tobacco, 95 "
Kmc old Lynchburg, Smoking, 50 "
No. 1 Cut A Dry, 50 "
liiglic&l Prices Paid for all Kinds of Marketing.
Wc cordially invite the attention of both
old and young, great and small No charge
SHOWING Call and examine
before purchasing elsewhere. Thankful
for past favors, hoping a continuance of the
same, we remain,
llesp ectfullv, &c.,
RITTENIIOUSE k McKINNEY.
' Lewistown, November 21, 1866.
m TUB MIIM !!
In addition to an extensive stock of
GOLD & SILVER WATCHES.
j" :E "W elry,
IL 7/, JiLLim
establishment, will be found a beautiful as
of all the prominent
and hundreds of other articles.
11. W. JUNKIN.
Lewistown, May 24, 1865.
THHE undersigned are prepared to
buy all kin,!? of Produce for cash, or receive on
store at Brown's Mills. Ueedsville, Pa. We will have
PLASTER, SALT AND COAL.
We intend keeping the mill constantly running, and
for sale at I he lowest Market rates, at all times.
#S"Tlio public are requested to give us a call.
sepJTtf H. STRFN'K & HOFFMAN'S,
HIGHEST CASH PRICES FUR WHEAT-, A\U
ALL RINDS OF GRAIN,
or received it on storage, at the option of those
having it for the market.
They hope, by giving due and personal at
trntion to business, to merit a liberal share of
i LA SI EE, SALL and Limeburners
LUAL always on hand
. WM. B McATEE & SON.
Lewistown, Jan. 1, 1865.—tf
A LARGE assortment of Soaps. We call
XY. special attention to the CE LEBRATED
OLiXL; this is one of the very best and
cheapest Soaps in use. For
J ftn3 ° F. J. HOFFMAN'S.