me gaurasiw §J«ttUtgw«, PUBLISHED EVEIIY WEDNESDAY BY 11. fl . SMITH & CO H. Or. SMITH. A. J. Steinman TERMS—Two Dollars per annum, payable lu all oases In advance. Tttc T.ivrASTES DAILY INTELLIGENCES Ifi published'ove?y evening, Sunday excepted, at 85 por Annum in advance. OFFlCE—Southwest coainca oy Centre QUARK. fflffeg. JIY w c 11 iYANT. I sflzfid upon the glorious Hliy And thegi-eou mountains rouufi; And tlioiuiit th;‘t when I came to lie At reu wltuiTi the ground, ’Twuru pl.-.u-nu'.. Unit tu lWweiy June, Wliuu bvooiis send up a cheerful tune. And proves a joyous sou id, Tipi -extou’s hand, mv grave lo mnlte, Tho rich, yrefiti inonuiaiu turf should break. A coll wil bin tin f-«>/.;-u mov.iil. A colllu borne lhrmu-Ji sleet, Yhd icy do Ik above Is rolled, While fierce t no beat Away! —I wil not tbluk oftnesc— iiiue he tliHsky .*ml s it the bretz*, Ear l li . n«-n be neat h l ho fi-el. An 1 bo the U'.iup mould g-iitly praised Into my narrow pine*: < i' rest There through the Me-'. lo:ir; ‘.uuitntr hours, The fjohieu iit?Mi “-hiiii! • J*”, AiM thldi yi iu iu; ;i*-x met y rwup-i uf 11 >'' --Me »“>■ «:*•!•' . The idle hull - Uly Should rust I- mi i he. e, ••' dhe housewlic h. ; .? ;u«d litu... And wlnil If ehreriui hliuuM ul liooii , iii; i t.h. ru l:i; h’-ard aud tm'il. Come, t' (.m t <• villa.e a-ui, <'r snh"i ot in a v ; lint, if, aroiii.d m • p, ot >h *-p •j re !i lends i P.V.- h li d e-m ,- .\iM hi'fiil; u; e:l an the aisles of a I'hhli- Jouable eituieh on a week-day. Mr. ■ Morgan- -bool; keeper, clerk, and super intend., nl, u! I in on*.- -w;is immersed in a .study of Jong hdger.«, wliieh seem to 'have been mv-ntid to keep the minds of the oniei'd.' in places from stag* Jiatiug. Jem Ihiiln, i ln> sole porter ami pointsman on ■inly, iva-* occupying the hoi'sehai r sen' : ;r. <■ nt* * I hv the eoftipany for the punishment of their passengers, 'sunk in Ilia’, professional lialf slumber wliieh lias still mi eye and an ear open for any sounds of lm dne-s. Seeing that ! he \Vii-> on duty f >v an average fourteen hours a day, it was vt*ry well for hiiu Unit iie lid l m ([uiretl something of the faculty aserihed to great military com mander'', of snatching an odd ten min utes of. sleep whmmver tiie movements <>f the enemy,—in hi. 1 - ease lhe “ ups ” ami “ down.-; ’’ -would let him. Suddenly liohhs jumped up, and was out on tiie platform in a second. The distant rumbling of the up-train from K for Torninn had mingled with his blissful dream of the lap of the “Rail way Hotel,” am! miir-nil him to his duty of hell-ringing Mr. .M ugan had not heard the sound, apparently, though he was wideawake, iiuf iheu it was not his sperm! lm dim- -. i! 11 • 1 1!i" v t' wlion >. ui. the of lie ru-enier*-'!. *m lice (dock as hem i- i ■> 'i .'i vi said Jem, i' fti'uie ;iis time or '‘it u}i mi the West f<• they does ull >\vn and the cJironoine- Uici l- vi’i •; dii i lu-i " Vt*'4'»• ‘i -> l>-• *i ~) u*," reniurkeii tin; purler, tii-' eni'i ne t.l r»;t\* up at the pluLtnrui. “ Well, I v.i»!" let';• v-.'-i.mdayreplied Jim>. will) i-.i; •-i 1 1; ft* s;df satisfaction. ■ “ Vi;u cdo <«ft fit* ••ysit'iu of averages on the .111!m■' i■ oi ! -oppose; we ain’t got to 1 n.n ; in* >i ! .mi Hit* ninin line. Weil, you’ve • • you know, — two 11) 111111 < Th'-n: iu:L o;n‘ (M-st-ngcr for Wan. i’ »r«l, .’),•! Ip-v. a> a .sc.-oml class, ami app ■arc-l • bav- 1 >*tL a single car pet ltag, Jem i)• --liii.- -ii: -• .villy calculated iliat lie W't.-i ijuiii i Mil'll in Uie weight of that hi ill'- If, ami ; t-sume I his own talk with the iJriver. “ Here’s to d .y\. JYiegrapli for you, Jem, — I Mippo.m .smi han’t seed it,?” Coming from the rural metropolis of E , the spmUv r \v ( u in a position to coiifor ! h--. :• kiml of literary obliga tion- on I,Y !': i-• i. * I at the smaller sta tions. “J dors’; c U'o ;..r re Telegraphs,” said UkmU! '-i\ nin..ui!\. Indeed, Liie newspaper, iiavim-, [ia.-.-cd 11 trough the hands of tin* d: iwr and hia mate dur ing their h di-ii.*ur of ieh eshment at E —, wa.* imt a tempting looking object ckc-pr io wry earnest politi cian. .1 ■ m 1 odd out his' hand for it neveiu !ich'-m. "I ibui'i want no papers. What’s the irv ui a newspaper to a man as is nail-'d to ibis Yre jdatform fourteen hours out of every twenty-four’.’ What odds can ii make to him about politics? Lota of i.uking in I’arlymenl,” lie con tinued, edam ing with an air of disgust 'cither at the long speeches or at the dirty pages. “Ah! J des-say! much good they does a-t al king.” “There's all about the Ilirish .('huivh.” “i> ith.er iin- 11 irih (’nurcli! What harm did the Ilirish Church ever dome or you'.’ If they'd take oil' the Miriah Mail, now, as keeps tiro out of my bed till one in the umniing every other night, kicking my heels in this here soluntary hole, I’d-ay they did some good. I’m turned Tory, Joe, I am. I don't admire so much progress; it drives a man oil' his legs, and well nigh oil'his head 100. You’ve beared of this 1-lacl as thi. imw company’s got pass ed V” ‘'The Mil!ford and Anhwater?— They’re to have running powers over this line, I’m told.” “Ay, and we shall have lots more work hero a signalling, and no more , pay, I’ll he hound, for it. .Running powers! I wish I’d my foot behind Hoinoof Ihcnf directors, Joe, I’d give ’em ho mu running powers—bless d If I wmild'nf.” “ Time’s tip,” said the station master, Issuing forth watch in hand. There was the usual whistle and shriek, and with a slow, lumbering motlou aud much panting. like an tin willing mon ster, the train lagan its work again. “ Hold on there! hold on !” shouted the official suddenly, when they had scarcely yet got well under way.— “Here’s .Sir Francis coming down the hill,” said lie to the porter. “Hold on !” “ Hold on !’•’ echoed Dobbs, fruntleal ly rushing to the end of the platform, ami raising both arms with the due telegraph motion. Glancing round, he saw the dog-cart rapidly nearing the station, with the driver’s arm raised In correspondence. Quickened by the (.bought of a possible shilling, he ran some fifty yuids along the liue, still shouting and ge.- ticu.'ating after the fast retreating train. But the wind waa contrary, ami Buster did not, and the guard would not hear; and Jem return ed panting to tiro platform to see Sir Francis jump Town at the station door —just one half minute too late. “How’s this, Morgun?” paid he, as the station master ciimt forward to ex press his regret. “ Why, they’re off! before their time 1” “I think not, sir Francis,” said Mr. Morgan, respectfully, glancing up at his clock. The baronet drew out hia own watch, but it more than confirmed the station-master. He was evidently a gooil deal annoyed, but he waa too much of n gentleman to blame others for punctuality. “ By Jove, Lizzy ! we’re too late, af ter all,’ he-mid in a tone of vexation to a young lady who had accompanied him, as he went to help her down, “ How very provoking !” “I’ve been here fifty times to meet tills train, and never knew you all so sharp in my life before,” said he, with an attempt to smile. “ Quite true, Sir Francis,—lt is very seldom we are so exact to time; the tralu eatne in early and had to wait a minute or two, but there was no one here, you see, aud so—” “Of course, of course, Morgan. There’s no one to blame but myself; but it’s very annoying to miss it by so little. ' I 21) c I'anawtcr JlntcllujciHcr. VOLUME TO had an engagement I wished esjiecially to keep to day.” “ I’m very sorry, I’m sure, Sir Fran* ois,” said the station master, with a manner as if he meant wbat he said; for Sir Francis Hargrave, if not exactly popular, was generally respected in the neighborhood, and had even once or twice sent Mr. Morgan a iittle present of game in acknowledgment of polite services in his department. But iu the midst of explanations and apologies the station door opened, and another would be passenger appeared. It was a young man in the dress of a superior mechanic, carrying a small bundle. “Train gone?” saidhe,almost breath less. * Just gone,” said Jem, with an em phasis on the first word, as though he congratulated himself and his questioner on having timed it so nicely. There was no malice, but only a general sort of civil misanthrophy on tbe porter’s part towards the general public. He saw a good deal of the weaker side of human nature. People were so stupid ; coming late for trains, as if it was not quite as easy for those who had all the day before them to be ten minutes be forehand as two minutes behiud, (he should like to know what the company would say to him if lie was two minutes late to sigual in the half-past five train these blessed winter mornings); bring ing luggage with unreadable addresses, or no address at all; expecting it to go all right, even under the latter condi tions ; or, in cases where it was legibly directed, duly labelled, and put out on the platform, hoveriug over it to his, Jem Hobbs’s, personal inconvenience (these were commonly called lady pas sengers), in the evident belief that the company would make away witli it, leave it behind,orotherwise unlawfully dispose of it, if they were allowed the slightest chauce. Then people asked sued) utterly needless and unreasonable questions; expecting him to know, and to be able to explain to the dullest com prehension the time-tables, not only of his own line, bul of every line iu orout of connection with it; to be able to give an exact guess, if a train were late iu arrival, as to “how much longer” it would be; and, to crown their aggra vations, standing at tiie carriage doors when the train was just startiug, to give some parting message that might just as well have been giveu ten minutes before, or insisting on kissing each other on tiptoe through the window. “(June !” echoed the young man, with a face of consternation. “ Why--” lie turned round to face a slight, girl ish figure which hud entered close be hind him. “We’re too late,” he said, —“too late.” “ When does the next train go for London, sir?” asked the girl timidly of Mr. Morgan. There was great anxiety in her face, but she seemed the more business-like of the two. “There’s none till l.”o,” said the statiou master; “you’ll have an hour ami a half to wait.” “ Have you a telegraph here?” inter jected (lie young man rapidly. “Telegraph? No,” said Jem, in a tone which implied that things were not come to that pass of aggravation yet at Wausford Hoad. The girl meanwhile was studying the time table, running her lingers ner vously along the lines. “The express does not stop here,” she said, “ how far is it toCroxtou, sir? it stops there. Is there any convey ance to he had that would take us on there in time ?” The young man caught at the idea eagerly*. “Ves,”said lie, “a lly, or gig, or any thing; it is worth trying. And he be gau to count the coins in a purse which did not seem over-well filled. But no conveyance of any kiud was to be had at tiie “Station Hotel,” unless by nrevious order from tbe little town of Wausford, which was two miles ofi', “ft's no use,” said the disappointed traveller, trying hard to suppress evi dent emotion, as he walked out upon the platform, where the girl quickly fol lowed him. There had been another more inter ested spectator of the scene thau either of the railway officials. The young lady who had accompanied Sir Frauds had marked with a woman’ssympathy the look of distress iu the face of the girl (who might have been a year or two younger than herself), and was now engaged in an earnest whisper with her brother, for such was therela tionship between them. The baronet turned round sharply.— “ Very well,” said he. Andhestepped outxiipon the platform where the other two v/ere walking, —the girl clinging to her companion’s arm, and looking up pitifully into his moody face. Sir Fraucis touched him lightly on the shoulder. “ Is it really importaut toyr.u, young man, to catch this express for London’.’” “ O yes, sir, yes !” said the girl, an swering for him, as he turned round to his questioner with asomewhat bewild ered and half-resentful expression.— There was nothing to reseut, however, in Sir Francis's manner,-though it waa more businesslike than sympathetic. Time and words were precious. “Jump into my dog-curt, then, hero at the door, aud my groom will get you there in time. Look sharp, Johnson !” The porter caught the baronet’s de cided lone, and the groom, who was walkingthe mare about, wassummoned to the door again before the young man could half understand the oiler, or ex press his thunks. “Do you go with him ?” said Jem to the girl, as she handed up the little bundle to hercompanionalready seated by the groom’s side. “ No, O no!" said she; “make haste!” Sir Francis stood at the door looking after the dog-cart for a minute or so, as it drove rauidly ofi'. He had his watch in his hanu. “ She'll do it in the time, Morgan,” he remarked, as they turned a corner out of sight. He was more interested in his mare’s powers than in the emergencies of a stranger. “0, will they, sir, doyou think ?” said the young girl to him ap pealingly. Her eyes were straiuing af ter them too. “ Yes, yes; they’re safe to do it,” said the baronet, looking at her with some curiosity. He was half amused and half embarrassed by her earnestness. Ho was not much accustomed .to these appeals from “young persons” In her station of life. But she had a very beautiful face, he saw now ; aud he had an artist’s eyo for faces. ‘ Yes, lie’ll bo In time, my—good girl.’ Ho had almost said “my dear;” but, with u happy presence of mind lie cor rected himself. Then ho walked back Into the station to get out of the way of her thanks; for he saw tears In her eyes, and he did not care to see a wo man cry,—eVen a plobiuu. Neither, to do him justice, was ho a man to desire such Impassioned thanks . for a mere good natured action. He had done it to oblige his sister; but when be saw how pretty this other girl was, he felt very well satisfied that he had done her a kindness too. “ And what are you going to doyour self, Sir Francis?” asked Mr. Morgan. “ 0, I should have had to Halt here, I suppose, anyhow, for the 1 .Jo train. We’re goiDg to Moulsford, and the ex press wouldn’t help us, —don’t stop there, you know. You won’t mind waiting here, Lizzy ? It’s a great nuis ance,—l shall be late for that meeting ; but, you see, Vernon will expect us to dinner all the same. * I think we ought not to disappoint them. I'll just take a stroll about aud smoke a cigar. Have you a book ?” She shook her head, “I shall do very well,—dou’t mind me, pray.” “ And I must have left the Times in the dog cart. How stupid of me!” “Here’s to-day’s Telegraph, miss,” said Jem, producing the paper from the office window. ‘lt a’n’t justly fit fora lady’s hands, but it ’s only the iuglu black,—perhaps If you was to take your gloves ofi’, it wouldn’t hurt.” Jem had an idea that the little hands would wash, but the lilac kids certainly would not. "0, thank you! nevermind. Now you see. Francis, I'm quite provided.” “ Weil, Mr. Morgan will take care of you, and I’ll look in.” He lighted his cigar, and was going out at the door op posite the platform. The girl who had accompanied the young traveller was still waiting in the office. “She wantß to thank you, Sir Fran cis,” said the station master, to whom she had been speaking. She came for ward a stop or two, but Btlll seemed too Bby to address him. Ho turned to her good humoredly.— “ 0, it’s not worth mentioning,—it will do the mare good.” It was wonderful what an expressive face this yonug per son had; and there were tears in her eyes. “ Don’t say a word,” he said, in a very kind tone , “good-by.” It was not at all his habit to say good bye to “ young persons” he encountered on railways. At this moment a whistling scream was heard in the distance, and Jem Dobbs rushed frantically across the office, and out upon the platform. “Only the down express, Sir Fran cis,” said Morgan, in explanation. What is the strange attraction which draws everyone to see an express go by? It was a question which Jem Dobbs would have felt much relieved to have got answered satisfactorily. Why should he continually have not only to shout and warn and remonstrate, but to rush along the edge of the platform at his own personal risk, and push back tbe curious fools, young and old, who seemed to be always trying how near they could stand without the traiu touching them ? It was no wonder that the girl, to whom railway traveling was a novelty, should go to the door to look. Even the more aristocratic young lady was stand ing iu the office window, and Sir Fran cis himself turned and went out to see. Certainly he had the excuse of having nothing better to do at the moment. “Take care there!” shouted Jem from tiie points which he Lad gone to attend to. “ Take care,” said the baronet. But she was careful enough. Sir Francis did not seem to be so very much inter ested in tiie passage of the express, after all,for he turfWl'.his back to it as it came roaring up ; it gave him the opportuni ty, at all events, of looking into her face ugain without rudeness, as she stood absorbed in watching its rapid approach. He dropped his cigar as lie turned, and reached to pick it up almost at her feet. Au iron clump on the platform fastened together two llag stones which were somewhat worn. More than once Mr. Morgan had written to headquarters to advise their removal as dangerous. The baronet’s heel tripped on this as he re covered hiscigar, and he staggered back wards rightou the edge of the platform us the train came rushing up. Instinc tively lie put out his hand, and the girl clasped it. He was quite oll'his balance and the strain was almost too much for her. There was a loud scream—from the window, not from her—as for one terrible instant the two swung together almost over the platform, so that the hindmost carriages brushed tiie person of Sir Fraucis as they llew past. The girl held on bravely, though she was dragged a step or two from her position. The statiou muster iiad rushed forward the moment he saw the peril; but the whole scene passed instantaneously,and by the time lie had grasped the girl's dress with one hand tiie traiu had pass ed, the danger was over, and she had fainted aud fallen on the rails. The fall was in a measure broken by the station master's grasp ; but when Sir Francis, who had recovered himself by aspring forward, stooped to assist her, the blood was trickling from her forehead, and she neither moved norspoke. She had struck her heud against tbe rail. “ (Jood heavens ! is she killed ?” said lie, in an agouy. Mr. Morgau was calmer. “Only stunned and faint sir, I think ; she did not fall heavily,—l had good hold of ijer.” Tiie two men lifted her carefully into the office, aud laid lie* on the horsehair bench, which had never been found so convenient. Tbe cut was not severe, so far as they could judge. “S«*ml at once for the nearest sur geon,” said the baronet. “ I fear we can’t be spared here,” said the station-master; “ but I’ll step across to the hotel, ami get some one from there to run up to Wausford.” “I’ll go myself,” said the baronet; “Lizzy, you see to her —get some water.” “ Ves, yes,”-said his sister, “go at once; there’s not much harm; I hope.” There came a sigh from the patient as she spoke, which tiie experience of Mr. Morgan pronounced an excellent sign. He was so far right, that before Sir Francis had been gonctmany minutes, the color had partially come back into her face, and she had once or twice opened her eyes. The landlady of the little public house close by—digni fied by tiie name of n “hotel” —came in, and although a vulgar, fussy woman, she was some lie!]! to the others under the circumstances, .-’he was anxious to have the patient carried over to her parlor, but this tiie station master did not advise. “It’s a noisy place, miss,” he said in au aside, “she’ll be better taken up to Wausford aftc-r the doctor lias been.” “Who is she Mr. Morgan? Doyou know at all?” asked the young lady. Mr. Morgon had no idea. Jem had no idea. He had seen the youug man onee or twice, bethought, about Wans ford lately, but he was a strauger to the place. There was consciousness in the eyes the next time they were opened, aud they looked round with a mute and questioning distress at all the strange faces. Miss Hargrave signed to Mr. Morgan aud Jem, who were hovering about and looking on with Uie kindly but troublesome helplessness common to their sex ill such emergencies, to go out of the way. “We shall' manage very well now,” she said to them. “You are to lie still, dear, aud!be quiet; you’ve hurt yourself.” 1 Apparently the sufferer gained confi dence by what she saw in the gentle face which bent oyer her. She shut her eyes again, and lay quite still for some minutes. Then she looked up agaiu, aud asked,—“ where is my bro ther ?” “ He has gone to London,-;you know, dear, and I’m to take care of you till he comes back.” “Oh! I remember,” said the girl, with a look of pained anxiety. Can J go home now,—to Wansford, I mean? 1 think I could go now,” she said, half raising herself. “ We’ve sent for something to take you there, —it will be here very soon,” said Lizzy, with pious falsehood.— " You’re to be very quiet till it comes. You have had a fall, but you’ll be your self again in a very little while.” “ I know’—l know,” said the girl, “ Was he hurt ? ” “My brother, do you mean ? O no, it was you that fell,—and you saved his life, I do believe. But you must not talk.” “Tell mu the gentleman’s name, —I asked the clerk,, but I was not sure what he said. “ Hargrave—but never mind,” “ Sir Francis Hargrave?” Lizzy nodded, as much as to decllno talk. “ Are you his sister?” said the girl, springing half up, and looking wild enough, art her hair hud come all loose while they were bathing her temples. “Yes,—but I’ll tell you nothing if you won’t lie still.” “ Oh !” said the .other, “forgive me! do forgive’me ! O, if I had, but known ! don’t think hard of me!” Her pleading was piteous. She was waudering, no doubt, and Alias Hargrave was seriously alarmed. But she was a sensible girl, and kept her presence of mind. “ I’ll go away,” said she, stoutly, “ if you will talk.” “Say only you’ll forgive me, what ever comes of it!” said the sufferer, seiziug her hand. But there was a hazy look about the eyes, aud her voteegrew weaker, Lizzy Hargrave promised for giveness lavishly, and succeeded at last in calming her so far that she lay down again, still holding the hand she had taken. She lay quiet after this, and sank into a doze. - Miss Hargrave sat and watched her, waiting anxiously for her brother’s return with the surgeon. He was longer thau she had hoped. But the patient was now breathing easily, and the doze seemed to have become a sound sleep, for thetightly clasped hand wasrelaxed, aud at last withdrawn altogether. She picked up Jem’s Telegraph, which had dropped on the floor, auu glanced over Its pages. There was not much in it to interesther, and she began mechanical ly, as people will do in such cases, to read some of the advertisements. At last sho was struck by one in which a familiar name appeared. “One Hundred Pounds Reward.— Wanted, evidence of the marriage of Richard Hargrave with Mary Gordon, in or about the year 18—. The mar riage took place in Australia,—probably at Ballarat. The name of one of the witnesses is supposed to have been John Somers, who came from the neighbor hood of Wansford, in Essex. Apply to R. H., 15 Crown Court, Clifford’s Inn.” The coincidence of names was at least curious, and she read it over more than once. A start from the sleeper, how ever, led her to drop the paper hastily, lest its rustle should disturb what Bhe LANCASTER PA. WEDNESDAY MORNING JUNE 30 1869 hoped might prove the best restorative, j The surgeon had not been easily ! ! found ; but Sir Francis brought him at I , last, as fast as his horse and “ trappe” j r could carry him. He would not pro- I nouuce a very confident opinion as to 1 ; the amount of injury his patient had ; | sustained. The cut was nothing, and , i there was no external mischief. The ! ; symptoms which he did not like were ; ! the outbursts of wandering excitement: :of which Miss Hargrave informed j ; him, and the subsequent drow-| ; siness which continued now, even in : ; spite of the disturbing presence of so! | many strangers, of which indeed she J seemed only partially conscious. “She must betaken home at once, | and put to bed,” said he, “ and weshall | know more about it to-morrow. You j said you had some arrangement for her 1 conveyance, I think, Sir Francis? I\ j had better stay, perhaps, and see her \ ! safely landed.” i ; “ Very well,” said the baronet; “yes,! I have arranged about all that.” 'He! called his.sister aside, and whispered a few words. Miss Hargrave's face bright- j ened, and she quietly pressed her bro- ; ther’s hand. The three stood together | by the fire in the office, interchanging I an occasional commonplace remark iu 1 a low tone, Mr. Morgan having retired to his insatiate ledgers. Sir Francis was thoughtful and silent. For want of some better subject of conversation, his sister took up the Telegraph, and' pointed to the advertisement she had | noticed. Her brother glanced at it, ; made no remark, but after a minute or j two took it up and read it again. “ Curious, is it not?” said his sister. I “ Ves ” said the baronet; “ I’ve seen 1 something like it before. It’s an old | story.” . He dropped the paper on the ground, ' —indeed, it was not tempting to ban- ' die more than one could help. Then he i turned and looked out of the window. I “Here’s the carriage at last, thank j Heaven ! We’re going to send tier up to , the Hail at once,” he said to the sur geon, in brief explanation; ‘‘she’ll 1 have more chance there thau in her ; own lodgings; aud Mrs. Hargrave, as • you know, doctor, is a first-ratenurse.” \ He had found out, while hunting the j surgeon up and down the little town of : Wausford, that two persons ausweriug to the description of this young man aud his sister had been occupying some very humble lodgings there for the last few days, though liis informant did uot know their names. The girl, still only partly conscious, was carefully lifted into the carriage, in which all necessary preparations had beeu made, aud Miss Hargrave found a | corner there for herself. With the sur- [ geou seated on the box, they set c:F at j once for Wanscote Hall. ! “ I shall wail here till Johnson comes 1 back, Lizzie, —he can’t be long now. [ We must give up the Vernons to-day, ! of course; you must write and explain.” | It was not above three miles to the ; Hall, and in Jess thau half an hour the j sutl'erer was safe in bed in a darkened ' room, with Mrs. Hargrave, that aunt of aunts, as her niece called her, silting in her kingdom by the bedside. She hail ; seen plenty of trouble of all kinds ; but : to look at her placid face now, you i would have said that iu ali her life she ! had' never even known a care. Trouble had refilled, not corroded her. ir. The mare meanwhile had covered her seven miles easily within the three quarters of an hour allowed her, and Oroxtou Station was reached before the expressjfor London came,insight. John- I son, the groom had vainly tried to i engage his companion in conversation | during the drive. Beyond replying —| judiciously euough—to his remarks up- ! on Brown Bess’s good qualities, the ■ young stranger had been abstracted and j silent. When he jumped down, how- i ever, he thanked the mun warmly, and ; offered him a half-crown. The groom looked at tho money : sheepishly. “No, thank you,” said j he; “you’re very welcome for my! share of it, sir.” He added the “sir” almost involuntarily. ! “ Take it, my good fellow,” said the other ; “ this lift may be worth many half-crowns to me.” But Johnson looked at the little bun- [ die tied up in a handkerchief, and • thought there were not many-lmlf* ‘ crowns’ worth there, at any rate. “ No, sir, thank you,” he said, not moving his baud from the reins! “Sir Francis wouldn’t ljke it.” The man was not selfish ; not so many men of his class are as their masters are- apt to think. “ I wish you a good journey, J sir,” he added, as he turned round, . “ and I hope no offence.” “That chap's agentlemau, I do be lieve,” said the groom to himself, as he drove round to ttie inevitable “ hotel,” : to wash out the mare’s mouth and liis j own before returning. “He don’t talk ! altogether like one, nor he don’t wear I no gloves, but he’s got a gentleman’s ways.” The object of these remarks reached London in due course, thanks to Sir Francis’s help, not an hour after the train which lie had missed. Taking a i cab from the terminus, he drove straight ! down to the London Hocks. “ Whereabouts would the Diana Ver- i non lie, for Port Philip?” he inquired of the first respectable looking seaman he could find. lie was directed to Uie vessel at once, , —not a hundredyards distant. She was not off yet, then. “ When do you sail?” he asked a boy who was carrying some thing on board. “At six this evening. Are you a going?” “ No. Can you tell me if Jack Winter is on board ?” ! “ All ; he was, liowsumever, a quarter of an hoursince.” He brushed past the lad on the nar row gangway, thereby drawing out rather a large oath from so small a blas phemer, aud iu another minute had the object of his search pointed out to him. It was a bluff, greasy looking man, sit ting on a barrel, with a short pipe in his mouth, apparently not over sober, to whom he was directed. “ Are you John Homers, formerly of Painter’s Lildge, Victoria?” Tho speaker asked the question quickly and decid edly, but in a low tone of voice. He read the true answer in the seaman’s face In a moment, greasy as It was. There was no mistake; he had found his mnu. “ Well,” said the person addressed, with an oath, and a laugh which was not meant to express pleasure, “you takes liberties with mv name, mute. Anything else as you’d like to know?” “’Yes,” said tho other, quickly, “a good many things, which I think you can tell me. You are John Somers?” “ I au’t called so on board the Dirty Diana; you can call me so, if you like, —or by any other name, If it strikes your fancy, youngster.” And ho stuck his pipe into his mouth again, and his bauds into his pockets, with what might have been either defiance or con temptuous indifference. “ Look here, said the younger man, never mind about the name, —I may be wrong; but I will make it worth your while to listen to me, If you’ll step ashore anywhere with mo for ten min utes.” ’ “ You be blowed! ” said Jack Win ter, or Somers: “we’re ofT in a hour, and I’ve no time to listen to your busi ness.” He spoke with somehesitatlon, however, for he saw the other’s tremu lous eagerness. “ You’ve nothing to fear from me,” resumed the strauger, “ and everything to gain. I want you as a witness ; and I say again, I’ll make it worth your while.” And feeling nervously in the old purse, he slipped something into the sailor’s hand. Casting a glance round tho deck of the vessel to assure himself that no one was watching them, Jack Somers look ed into his hand stealthily. The color of what he saw there was enough.— Calling to the boy as he passed, he charged him to tell the captain, if any Inquiries were made, that he should be back “ iu no time,” and motioned tohis new acquaintance to follow him. He led the way to one of those common resorts for seamen which abounded In the neighborhood, “ Ask for a private room, youngster, If you’ve any maggin to do as you don’t want made too common. They’ll give you a parlor if you pay for it.” The pair were soon seated ir* a low, close room, redolentofstaletobacooand worse odors. “Now, John Somers,” said the younger man (he quietly assumed the identity, and the other did not now seem inclined to dispute it), “ you see I know you ; but I’ll call you Jack Winter for the present if you prefer it. I’ve no objection,” he added, with a half-laugb, “ to a fancy name, ir it suits a gentle ' man’s purpose; I’ve haled by more than one myself of late. But you were John Somers when you saw Richard .Freeman married.” “ John Somers it was,” said the mao, sententiou9ly, though with some sur prise. He was quite atjiis ease now; for whatever doubtful points there were in his previous history, Richard Free man’s name was in no way connected with them. “You saw him married ? ” “Well, I did.” “You remember the name of the— lady?” “ Well, she wasn’t that much of a lady; but I remember her well enough, —Mary Gordon ; she were some sort of a cou3in o’mine.” The young man slightly flushed, and spok e rapidly. “You witnessed the marriage. Did you know Richard Freeman well ? ” “ Better than I know you.” “ Was that bis real name ? Did you know him go by any other ? ” “ Well, there was few of us as went by our Sunday names out there, you know. I don't suppose as his name teas Freeman. I’ve heard he left an other name behind him in England. I can’t justly say as I remember it.” “Was it Hargrave?” “Hargrave? 1 do believe it was! I’ve got a paper somewhere as he gave me to keep, with his marriage lines on, and I count that’s the name as is on it.” “ You’ve got his marriage certificate? Tkeu it’s worth a hundred pounds to you, my good fellow, that’s all, if you’ll come with me,” said the younger man, excitedly. “The devil it is! Are you in sober earnest, mate, or have you beena-lush iug it ?” The other hastily drew out a small pocket book, and produced a scrap cut irom a newspaper. It was the same advertisement which had attracted Miss Hargrave's attention at the station. “ Who’ll go bail for the truth of this here?” asked Jack Somers, prudently. “If you’ll come with me at once to my lawyer’s, and bring the paper you spoke of, and tell him what you’ve told me, you shall have part of the money down and the rest when you give your evidence.” “I dop’t like lawyers,” said Jacks shaking his head. I alius give them sort as wide a berth as I can.” 11 If your story be true,—as I have no doubt it is, mind,—l’ll make it two hundred.” “You’re flush ofyour promises,young ster. Now let me ax you aquestiou,— you’ve axed me a pretty many. What’s Dick Freeman, or whatever his name might be, to you ? ” “ He was my father,” said the young man. “ D— me if you don’tfavor him, now I look at you. You’ve a considerable spice of his ways about you, too. Well, Dick was a good pal to me; I liked Dick. And you’re Dick’s son? 1 don’t know as I’d ha’ gone near a lawyer again, of my free will, for the chance of liie hun’red pounds you talk about; but I were always a soft chap, and I’ll i/o with you, if I miss my trip. You’ll have to see me through with the cap’n, mind you,—you and your lawyer chap. He’s good foi that much, I suppose?” The two men got'into a hansom, and drove rapidly to a small court near Clifford’s Inn. They wereshown into a room almost as close and dingy as that which they had lei t. Mr. Brent, the lawyer, whom they found there sitting at his desk, went far to justify, in his outward ap pearance, Javk Somers’s prejudice against the profession generally', — which however, it is only fair to say, was founded on certain personal expe riences not of a favorable kind, con nected with what he himself termed “a spree ou shore,” but which was known in the jargon of the law as “assault and battery,” and which had led to his shipping nimself on board the Diana . uuder his present alias. He had been : assured, however, in the course of his drive from the Docks, that the law at present had no terrors for him, but rather a prospect of considerable ad vantage ; so that when he was presented to Mr. Brent by his lawful surname, he ; made no difficulty on the point. , “So we’ve got our witnesses, Mr. : Hargrave,” said the lawyer, when the introduction had been duly made. “I knew Furritt was right. Never knew him fail, sir, —that is, when properly paid. Always pay a man well, Mr. Hargrave,' when you want your work well done. That’s a maxim of mine. ! I’m sure you’ll agree with me, Mr. 1 Somers?” Jack Somers indicated his assent to so sound a principle. “ You’ll be well paid for your work, | sir, as you’ll find; it’s Mr. Hargrave’s | wish, —excuse me if I call you so for I the present,” he added, turning to the | younger man,—“it’s Mr. Hargrave's expressed wish to act in the whole of this business on the most liberal prin ciples. Do I represent you correctly, sir ?” “ Yes, yes,” said the one whom the lawyer called Hargrave, in a tone of some impatience. “But we have uo time to lose, Mr. Brent; the vessel of which Mr. Somers is mate sails this evening.” “ She must sail without Mr. Someis, then, my dear sir; we cannot possibly spare him, now we have him. The law must lay an embargo on you, Mr. Som ers. But we’ll make that all right,” said the lawyer, as he saw sighs of rest lessness on the sailor’spart. “ I’ll send down my clerk at once.” He rang the bell, and gave his instructions to a squinting young man who answered it. “ We’ll serve a aubpeena on you in due form in the course ojf the evening,” he continued ; “ we could not part with you, sir, on any account : and, as 1 ob served just now, you will bo more than satisfied for any inconvenience. He knows of the reward, Mr. Hargrave?” “ I knows,” said Somers, with a wave of his hand, perhaps implying that such things were not necessary to dis cuss between gentlemen,—“l knows; but I’m not. sure I’d ha’ come hero at all, but as he says he’s a son of Dick Freeman’s. I liked Dick.” “ You witnessed the marriage of Richard Freeman—we’ll call him so, you know —with Mary Gordon, In March IS—?” said the lawyer, referring to some notes. “Month o’ March, was it? Well,” he said, after some calculations of Ills own personal movements, “I prltty well think it was; leastwayH, when they were married, I saw the Job done, that’s surtaln. And I promised Dick I’d remember it.” “ At Ballarat, were they married V” “ Quite right,” said Jack, “ There was a fire there, some two or three years after? The wooden fhurch was burnt?” “ The whole town were burnt, as you may suy.” “ Then the registers were burnt. It’s all right, it’s all right,” said the lawyer eagerly; “that corresponds exactly with Furritt’s information. Capital fel low, Furrltt; never wrong. Mr. Bom ers, you’re the man that has given us a deal of trouble—and expense; but we are very glad to see you. You’re the “missing link," Mr. Bomers, that we read about In the—in the—” Mr. Brent was not sure it was in the Scriptures. In his natural exultation at having caught his witness, he was wandering out of the safe paths of law into the inorny thickets of literature; so he wisely pulled up with a cough which covered his retreat. There was no doubt, however, that they had got the very man they had long been looking for. and that Mr. Furrlt, of the “Private Inquiry” Office, had done his work quite successfully.— The partlculars.of the sailor’s evidence was very soon Committed to writing by Mr. Brent, readVver, and duly slgued with Jack Somers’s mark. Most complete case,” said the law yer ; “ I don’t suppose Sir Francis will go iuto court against it. We’ve got the marriage certificate, theonly surviving witness in person, the baptism certifi cates ; in fact, there’s not even a legal doubt. I propose to reopen negotia tions with the other party at once.— Compromises are against our interests, of course, but as an honeßt lawyer I al ways recommend them, especially in family cases, you know, Mr. Hargrave, —especially in family oases, where feel ings have to be considered. Mr. Som ers will star with you, or where we may easily find him, I conclude ?” Young Hargrave had drawn out his Eocket book, and had a bank-note in is hand. “Here, Somers,” he said, “there’s the fifty I promised down. It’s about the last of the lot, Mr. Brent,” he added, with a half bitter laugh. “They were hard got, I hope they wont be wasted.” ‘‘You hand this to me in trust for j Mr. Somers,"saidßrent.lookingsignifl cantly at the younger man, and arrest ing the note on the way across the table. “ This is in part payment of thereward offered, and I am authorized to hand it over to Mr. Somers immediately on his I evidence being given in court to the ef -1 feet of this deposition?” ! ‘‘Y T ou’reapreciouscunningold duffer, i you are,” said Jack Somers. “ Suppose ; I says as I won’t squeak till you bauds methatover—eh? two can play at hold fast, I’d have you remember. But if there’s any slice o’ luck coming to Dick Freeman’s sod, as I count there is from your talk, I ar’n’t the man to balk him of it. You may keep the flimsy till I axes for it, lawyer ; mind it don’t stick to your fingers, though. And now, Mr. Hargrave, I’m getting dry.” Hargrave was considerably embar rassed what to do with his witness, now he had caught him. He looked at his legal adviser in some dismay ; but that gentleman, in no way offended by the j sailor’s uncomplimentary address, after i quietly securing the note, recommended | them both to a house in the immediate : neighborhood, where he assured them j they would-find every accommodation in the way of board and lodging. He called young Hargrave aside before they parted. “I think, with all submission, Mr. Hargrave, I'dkeep him within reach, though I don’t think he’s inclined to bolt; but safe’s safe, you know. Aud I propose to go down myself to-morrow or next day to make a last offer to Messrs. Hunt, Sir Francis’ people. They’ll listen to reason now, if they are the men they pass for.” “ I don’t wanthard terms, Mr. Brent, remember; I don’t seem to make you understand the one thing I care for, — establishing the marriage. I won’t fore go my rights in any one way; but its not a matter of money with me, remember that. I want no accounts of the estate, as you call them, or arrears of any kind. It’s hard enough on him as it is.” “Pooh! he had enough ofh is mother’s, without baronetcy. The Wauscote es tates are not above half his income.” “Bo much the better. But I want no back reckonings; 'let bygones be by gones.” “ You really are the most unreasona bly reasonable client that I ever fell iu with in the course of my profession,” suid Mr. Brent; “however, they can hardly fail to close at once with such terms a 3 you insist on offering; except that your very liberality might seem, perhaps,—we lawyers are suspicious, you will say,—to imply a doubt of the strength of our ease.” “You dou’t think there is any doubt?” “ Not a shadow. I’m risking a good deal on its validity, you know, Mr. Har grave ; it I don’t call you ‘Sir Richard,’ it’s merely that I dont wish to seem ob trusive.” “You dont risk much,” suid Har grave, bluntly. “Time and braiua are money, sir.— Aud the case, remember, waa not so promising wbeu our terms were made. I’m getting an old man, too, and your auuuity wont have to run over many years.” “I’m not grudging youwhat I agreed to,—not at all. SVe’ll look in to mor row, shall we?” “ Early, if you please,—or rather, this evening. I’Jl get this, Mr. Somers's, evidence iuto proper shape; and to morrow, as I said, I shall go down to Wansford.” When Sir Francis Hargrave reached home, he fouud the medical report of the patient not wholly satisfactory.— Evolved from the professional cloud in which the surgeon thought fit to wrap his information, the plain truth was that he feared some injury to the brain. The baronet was very urgent first, that further advice should be had; aud secondly, that the surgeon should uot leave the house for the present; and when the first was pronounced wholly unnecessary, and the second all but im possible, seeing that there were cases in and - about Wansford which were con sidered quite as Interesting by the parties immediately concerned, Sir Francis re luctantly compromised matters by get ting from him a promise to return that evening to the hall to dine and sleep. A ictc-a tele dinner with Mr. M'Farlane was rather a high price to pay as a retainer for his services, no doubt; but iu his present mood, the owner of scote was inclined to be liberal. “Rest and quiet are worth all the doctors in the world for the next four hours,” said M’Farlane, honestly ; “and I'll be with you at seven, if that case goes at all as it should.” He returned in due course, and pro nounced his patient to be going on ad mirably'; in fact, he found her comfort ably asleep. The dinner passed,—so well, that the surgeon, who had never dined at Wauscote before, even pro nounced the baronet in his heart to be “not a bad fellow”; a large concession on his part, since he had imbibed thd* modern doctrine that peers and bishops and baronets, and suchlike, were utter anachronism iu an age of realities. He enjoyed his dinner aud his wine none the less, rather the more; it was divert ing some small part of capital to the imerests of labor. He was leisurely sip ping his culfee with the same pleasura ble feeling, and Sir Francis had taken out his watch, andvbegun an apology about having letters to write which would oblige him to leave Mr. M’Far lane to amuse himself for an liourorso, when a message from Mrs. Hargrave summoned the surgeon up stairs. The patient had awoke, at first ap parently much revived, and perfectly sensible. Bhe had asked with some na tural surprise where she was, and when informed, had begged in a very excited manner to be allowed to see Miss Har grave alone. The elder lady had hu mored her, but had re entered the room very soon on a slight excuse, entertain ing a prudent suspicion that it might be desirable, for the patient’s sake, to cut such an interview short, if she con tinued to betray excitement. The re sult seemed quite to justify the interrup tion ; fur she found her niece in a sad state of bcwildermeut. The girl was now Insisting on getting up, and return ing to what she called her home, after puzzling poor Lizzy with fresh entrea ties for forgiveness for some imagluyry wrong. Yet there was more than method in her madness, if such it was. Bhe Inquired auxlously whether her brother had caught hls train to Lon don, showing a perfect recollection of all the circumstances of his journey.— They did not know at all how to deal with her, aud Mr. M’Farlane wua re quested to give hls advice. The surgeon felt her pulse, and asked the ordinary questions. “You think I am wandering, sir,” said she : “ I know I am not. I was shaken a good deal, but I am quite re covered now. I can walk to wansford quite well, or you cau send something lor me, as it is bo late,—but I cannot stay here. Pray, pray, don’t keep me!” “ My dear youug lady, you are in my hands, if you please. I’m absolute here, —monarch of all I survey,—and I can’t allow you to leave this room to night. But I’ll do anything else for you, and I dare say you’ll be well enough to go to-morrow. Can I write to any one for you, or do anything for you in Wansford? Would you like any of your friends Bent for? ” Yes, yes,” said the girl, “If I only knew where to write to for him. I’m not sure of his address.” “ Well, let it all alone till to morrow; you’ll be better then. I’ll give you something now that will doyou good.” He went out of the room with Miss Hargrave, leaving the elder lady still in attendance. “ She’s got something on her mind,” said he. “Her pulse is all right, and she’s rational enough. The cut on the temple is quite superficial. It’s on her mind, and she may worry herself ill. Perhaps she said something to you?” Miss Hargrave hesitated. Her own Idea had been that this strange girl had escaped from a lunatic asylum, but that her brother, or husband, or whatever he was, would hardly in that case have left her so unceremoniously at the sta tion. “She has been talking to me rather Btrangely,” she replied ; but she had a delicacy in repeating all that had passed. “Well, we’ll give her a composing draught to-night— quite innocent—but it’s not a case for medicine. She’s in trouble, poor thing,” There was a complaint called love, which admitted of all manner of com plications, and for which there was no known remedy in the old or new phar macopoeia,— nullti medicabilia herbia. as Mr. M’Farlane said when he found himself in classical company, quoting the Latin grammar of his boynood. He had not the smallest doubt in his mind that this was a virulent oase of the dls ease, but he was not quite sure wheth er he could venture upon a joke on that subject with a baronet’s sister. Was the young man whom she called her brother any brother at all? Had they run away together, and had she or he re pented ? Well, he waa not called upon to settle these questions. Hewentdownto the drawing-room, but Sir Francis was still in his library, and Miss Hargrave socn pleaded fatigue and retired. So Mr. M’Farlane, having had a long day's work and a good dinner, and never being over-fond of his own company, wished himself good night, and went off to bed. j There was-nothing whatever to de- I tain him the next morning. Beyond a i trifling scar on the forehead, his patient was none the worse for the accident. Sir Francis begged him to call again ; but it was not without remonstrance — he was very honest in his work—that he conseuted to look iu the next day. The girl’s excitement had considerably subsided, and the paiu which Lizzy Hargrave showed whenever she talked of leaving the Hall without the sur geon’s permission—which that young Judy had privately begged him not to give—seemed to have overcome in some degree her reluctance to remain. Her protest grew more feeble, aud the tears she shed now were rather those of gra titude to her kind hostesses than of dis tress. Miss Hargrave was, perhaps, rather of an impulsive nature. Bhe had been her brother’s companion from her earli est years, and could hardly be said to have a friend of her own sex. It might be these circumstances, combined with a little love of patronage, which made her take so very decided a fancy to this stranger, moving apparently in so to tally different a sphere from her own. There was something specially attrac tive about the girl too. She had not all the conventional mauners of polished society, it was true ; but she had been brougnt up, as Mrs. Hargrave soon gathered from her, in Australia, and the probable manners and customs of society : there left a large margin for allowances, j In gentleness and delicacy of feeling, j which are the same in one continent as j the other, the guest was the equal of her ! entertainers,—in intelligence, certainly not their inferior. “ She is a very remarkable girl, this Miss Freeman,” said Mrs. Hargrave, after a long conversation in the drawing room on the first occasion of heruppeur ance there. “ She’s a darling,” said the more en thusiastic aud less logical Lizzy. “What do,you think, Francis?” What the brother thought he did not say. He had said very little the last two days. But In the evening, wheu 1 they were assembled again, the talk I happened to turn oil Australia scenery. ' A usual remark made by their young guest betrayed that she had some of the tastes, at least, of an artist. Water colors were Bir Francis’ y as sio.n, aud be had a very fair share of skill in that accomplishment. He did what he could not always be induced to do to oblige his visitors —he went to the library, aud produced a portfolio of rough but very clever sketches. Peo ple were generally so stupid, as he said, preteudingto aduffre what they knew nothing at all about. But it was’not so this evening. The admiration of hls new friend was very quiet and subdued ; nut the few remarks she made were quite enough, to the ear of the initiated to betray a very considerable proficien cy in the art. “Oh! show her that pretty sketch you made for me of the two ponies,” said Lizzie ; “ that’s the best of all.” He turned over the portfolio, and found what she wanted. ‘ It’s a wretch ed thing, Lizzy, as I’ve often teld you,’ he said, as he threw it out. “ I like the rougher sketches better,” remarked Miss Freeman, quietly, after a glance at it; for sbe was evidently expected to say something. “ Exactly,” said the baronet, turning it on its back, “you are quite right; I can’t draw animals,—l always wish I could. You are quite right,—and hon est. I dare say you can do a great deal better thau these things.” “ My father was considered to draw well,” she replied; “and he took great pains with me—at one time ; and I was very fond of it, —that’s all.” She seemed to speak under very great restraint, and Bir Francis, with the tact of a gentleman, soon put the drawings away. He tried to draw her into con versation on other subjects, but she be came very silent, and soon asked leave to retire. Sir Francis had obtained more par ticulars about bis guest than the rest of his household were aware of. He had found out the widow with whom young Freeman and his sister had been lodging at Wansford for the last four or fiye days, and had perfectly satisfied himself as to their entire respectability, to say the least. He had also ascertained the young man had been searching reg isters, and making very particular in quiries as to the Hargrave family. The advertisement which had caught his sister’s eye had brought to his lecollec tion an old report, to which his legal advisers gave no credence whatever, of a marriage contracted by a deceased uncle in Australia, aud of a claim set up, or proposed to be set up, by the children of such marriage, to the baron etcy and theWanscote estates. But this story had been set afloat a few months after hls own succession to the estate, now fully three years ago, and the mat ter would hardly have been allowed to sleep so long had the claim rested on any plausible foundation. Richard Hargrave, an elder brother of Bir Fran cis’ father, at a time when his own pros pects of succession seemed utterly re moie, hud gone off* to the colonies (to the considerable re.iefof his relatives; aud had died there. He had formed a discreditable connection In Euglnnd before he left, and very probably the woman had followed lrim to Queeslumi, and passed herself off as his wife; but that he had any legitimate heirs was highly improbable. Were these Free mans the elainiuulfts? Bir Francis had even taken the trouble to cull on his lawyers, aud drawn their attention to the repetition of the old advertisement in the newspapers. Mr. Jluut, the shrewd old senior partner, laughed. “ It's old Brent at it again ; I know by the address! He’s gelliug money out of some poor devil, but ho can have uo case. Mr. Richard Hargrave hud a natural son, no doubt,—possibly two or three; but he never marned that woman, unless it was within six months of Ills death. And that would be per fectly immaterial to us, you know, Bir Francis.” Mr. Hunt was the family adviser ami friend of many years, and his voice was to the young baronet as the voice of au oracle. It waa rather disagreeable, however, even this shadow of a claim; more especially if, as he began strongly to suspect, he had one of the claimants now in hls house, connected with him by this new and singularobllgatlon. Ho would like exceedingly to do something for this youug man aud his sister, aud it would interfere very unpleasantly with his intentions if they or their ad visers should be inclined to regard his offer in the light of a bribe or a com promise. The baronetwas in a very un comfortable Btate of mind altogether—a fact which did not entirely escape his aunt’s observation. He treated his re luctant guest with scrupulous kindness and attention, but he left herentertain ment almost entirely In the hands of his sister and Mrs. Hargrave. Miss Freeman had so far yielded to that lady's arguments as to consent to remain at Wanscote until her brother returned from London ; and Bir Francis had left instructions at Wansford that the lat ter, on his arrival, Bhould be fully informed of his sister’s whereabouts, and the circumstances which had brought her to Wanscote; or that any communication received from him should be forwarded to the Hall at once by special messenger. “You pain us all considerably, Miss Freeman,” he said to her on almost the , only occasion they happened to be left alone, " by your extreme eagerness to leave us; but you have the right, and we submit.” “ I am very sorry to seem so ungrate ful,—indeed, I am.” “ Nay, excuso me, it is not a question of gratitude on your part; and that's just what I can’t understand. Philoso phers tell us (and lam cynic enough to believe) that people hate the sight of those who have laid them under an ob ligation; bo that, if I were anxious to get rid of you, it would be all quite la accordance with our delightful human nature. But when a mao has done another a real service, It is said he feelß kindly disposed to him,—feels a sort of property in him, you see,—ever after- NUMBER 26 wards. I suppose the rule don’t apply I to a woman.” ; It wasdifficulttosay whetberhespoke ; more in jest than in earnest, though it ; was with a laugh of badinage that he uttered the words, and he looked out of . the window as he spoke. She made no J immediate reply ; and when he turned round he felt sure she was in tears, though she held her face dowu close over some pretence of work which Lizzy had found for her. “ I beg your pardon,” be said, gently, —“really I beg your pardon; there is something I do not unuer9tand about it all, I see. lam very unlucky. I won’t suy anything more on the subject. When you get back to your own friends, perhaps you will so far forgive me as to let me know if there is any possible way in which I can further your brother’s views in life. I owe him nothing, you know,” keadded, laughing, “soperhaps he won’t be proud ; indeed, I did some thing for him.” “ Oh ! you have all been most kind to us from the first,—that makes it so—so “ So very disagreeable?” She wa9 only a girl of nineteen, though her self dependent life hud given her much of the experience of a woman ; and the absurdity of the conclusion made her laugh, just a little laugh in spite of her real distress. It was the first time she had done more thausmile. Ho came nearer to her and spoke earnestly and quietly enough. “Is it because we are rich and you are poor that you should be too proud to accept our gratitude ? Is that quite as it should be?” j “No,” said the Australian, lookiug ! him full in the face fora moment,—“no, it’s not that, Sir Frauds; I’ve se6u men living like princes one week and beggars the next. I don’t think very much of money. I’ve known what it is to want it, too,—a want I suppose you cannot even understand. But money’s a miserable thing,—a miserable tiling, I mean, for people to quarrel about.” He thought lie began partly to under stand her; but Mrs. Hargrave came into the room at the moment, and he weutouUior his morning’s ride When he returned to luncheon he fuuud his aunt waiting for him. “ This young thing’s brother's come, and he’s iu the library,—a rather im petuous young man, it seems to me. He wishes to see you before he talu s his sister home: so if you won* to go to him at once it might perhaps be as well.” Sir Francis found his visitor awaiting him ; Miss Freeman was with him, hut left the library as he entered. He put out his hand fraukly; the young man had the bearing of a gentleman, and was in more presentable costume than when they had last met. “Mr. Freeman, I think? though our Inst meeting was rather a'hurried one.” The young man bowed. “ 1 have to thank you, Sir Francis Hargrave as 1 have only lately learnt, for your great politeness—Uiudness, I should say—to a stranger. I do thank you, though I could almost wish that kindness had not been done. .Still more I thank you for your goodness to my sister.” Sir Fruncis interrupted him. “ You have been misinformed entirely, Mr. Freeman. lam the person to oiler thanks, if thanks could repay, or were desired. To Miss Freeman’s bravery, under God’s providence, I owe it that I am here alive.” “Pooh! the girl put out her hand, she tells me. as any one would, and you caught it. There is no obligation. Wo dout think much of such things whero we came from. And most of you En glish gentleman, I take it, would have sent a poor girl home with a ten-pound note, perhaps, to nay the doctor, aud called next day. You have dealt with her a 9 if she were one of your own, she tells me ; and I say again I thank you for it.” He spoke somewhat roughly, but there was heart in his tone and words. Again Sir Francis warmly disclaimed the other’s interpretation. “I say,” he continued, “you and yours have treated my sister as if she were one of yourown blood. You were right, air—she is a Hargrave by birth and name.” “Indeed!” said the baronet. He saw now pretty well what was coming. “ I am come on an unpleasant errand and 1 want to get it dpue. My name is Richard Hargrave, son of Richard Har grave, your father’s elder brother.” Sir Frauds bowed. “You claim to be ills lawful heir?” “ I do. Not exactly in the sense you put it, however. I came to Hnglaud to make out my right to this baronetcy, and thisplace, I supx>ose,” said he, look ing round him : “ but more than all, I had a fancy to prove I was not the bas tard your lawyers choose to call me 1 have done it, sir. I have full proof— your lawyers have admitted it—of my mother's marriage, and my own legiti macy. But I oiler you terms—fair terms, I think. Acknowledge iue as my father’s son ; give me enough for a lair start in the new country—it suits me better than the old ; buy me a farm and slock it—l leave it to you ; aud J’il never trouble you about the title or the estates.” Sir Francis smiled aud shook his head as the other ran on. “ 1 know what you think, you think the claim’s a bad one, or you tliluk I am a fool. Perhaps lam that last ; my lawyer tells me so, however. But I can see the loss to you will be far greater than the gain to me ; you were brought up to this sort of thing, you see, and I was n’t. Nor I don’t altogether hold with your primogeniture laws. I don’t see why my father should have had all the estate, just because ho happened to be born a year or two before yours. And a handle to a man's name is no great use in a new country. And the long and short of R all is this: it’s more than likely I might not have made my case so clear but for your help ; and I think 1 think 1 should expect Hits old house to fall down and smother me il J turned you out of it.” “ My good sir,” said the baronet, ns hooii as he could get room for a word, “ these things are all best left to our lawyers. No doubt you are well ad vised, but we won’t di.cal Column 15 cents per line. Special Notices preceding nwrlngeH and deaths, 10 cents per line for tlrsl iDHc-rUnn and 5 couts for every subsequent luscrlloD«| .Legal and oth k r notices— Executors’ notices 2.5 a Administrators' .lotices, 2.50 Assignees’ notices, 2.50 Auditors’ notices 2.00 Other “ Notices, ’ten hues' ot less, three times, 1.50 registrar’s certificate of the birih of one Richard Hargrave Gordon, son of Mary Gordon, single woman, of Wauaford, in IS—, (Just one year previous to the marriage at Bullotat, you will fiud.)-- And I have this morning, ainee you called on me, seen the wonmu Les ter, —you remember, >Sir Francis, —who is prepared to give evidence of the birth. “ I don’t want to enter into any pur i liculars that might be painful to you,” continued the lawyer, to the young rnau. who stood silent aud perturbed, and had i turned very pale, with one hand laid heavily on the library table; “but the ! subsequent baptism of a Richard Hac- — grave by the chaplain of the Nemesis at Geelong is, you see, quite compatible with his L»irlh as lliehurd Gordon two years before. That you were aware of this I do not for a moment assume,” lie aided, hastily, as the other made a sud den exclamation. “ Mr. Freeman,” interposed the baro net, “yuu made me a proposition now in the way of compromise; it was a handsome oue. I accept it. Name the locality where you would wish to settle, aud Mr. Hunt bus my instructions at once to—” “No!” shouted the Australian; “ I wanted justice, not charity. No, Sir Francis liurgrave—l beg your pariiou, I ought to thank you, bui I’m takou aback ; you’ve rather knocked me down you see. Your tale’s all light, I dare say; it’s what I’ve heard before at time, when my mother wan in a passion with me. Let me see the jnper. Ay, il’suil i :ght enough, no doubt. And this isn’t worth a rush ” said he, tak ing up the marriage certificate. He tore it passionately in two, ami threw it on the lioor. “Stay, sir,” .-aid Hunt, quickly pick ing it up; “ young men are busty. That pap; r concerns others besides yourself. You have a sister: unless I much mis take, that proves her the legitimate daughter of the late Mr. Richard Har grave ” “ All,” saiil Francis, with considera ble interest ; “ there seems some com plication in this case, Mr. liurgrave, I say again, 1 accept your first proposal; it will he fair enough for us both, ami less than you thought your just eluim.” “ No,” said the new claimant; “I’ll go back to the diggings. I’m youug enough to make a fortune yet, and 1 won't spend it ou lawyers, you uiuy bo sure.” Sir Francis Hargrave walked round the room, and laid his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Richard Hargrave,” said he, “we are blood relations. Your sister lias saved my life. Let me do a kinsman's part by you, Mr. Hunt, kindly leave us to have a talk together. Come hack to dinner, will you? ami we’ll have sumo of your sound advice then.” “i’ll give you pome nmv, gratis,” said the lawyer. “Don’t throw away friends, young man ; they arc not pick ed up so easily as gold is.” Then he bowed and took ills leave. Sir Francis fallowed him civilly to the door, and closed it carefully after him. The young Australian Hlood silently looking uL the torn certificate, which Mr. Hunt had laid on the table. You must take your own course as to your future life,” suid the baronet. “I will say no more now on that head, ex cept that 1 sincerely feel for your dis appointment, and I shall always re member the generous proposal you made to me. But iu this at least you will in dulgo me,—be my guest for a few days.” The oilier shook his head. “ You owe me a kindness,” said the baronet. “ I have a selfish aud personal reason for what I ask.” He gave way, though with evident reluctance. Grasping his hand, .Sir Francis thanked him warmly; theu lie took him at once to his sister, and left them together. It was not long, however, before Lizzy Har grave interrupted them. Her brother had told her at least enough of the state of tlie case to let her into tbesecretthat she aud Madeline Hargrave were first cousins, and that he very earnestly do sired that they should be good friends. Mr. Hunt's presence at the dinner table saved, perhaps, some embarrassment to all parties; and before he left, late iu the evening, the young Australian’s scru ples had been in a great measure re moved. His sister, it was plain, was considered no intruder in the family ; ami for her sake he was content to re main a week as a guest at Wanscote. .Sir Fruucis’s quiet kindness won the young man’s heart before that week was over; he had known most of the rougher side of life hitherto. He went witli the baronet to London, and in another mouth lie nailed to take possession of one of the best “runs” In Victoria.- But his sister Madeline only accom panied him aa far ua the ateamer which carried him out, and she returned to Wanscole as Lady Hargrave. hint*! Items, A Mr. Stephenson, of Pittsburg, former ly of C’lnrion county, was drown* d in the Allegheny river a few days Him-.’. Edward S. tioldon, Esq., of Kjttunlng, is named as a candidate for Ibo democratic nomination for Supremo Judge. Tho new jail at Easton, it is thought, will lie finished .Homo timo in tho coming fall. Among tho recent grmluule* of the L’. S. ’avid Academy is Lewis E. P.lxler, of linn. Asa Packer is fitting up h deer park near Packerlon, which will bo quito an at traction to that locality. A son of Samuel Jones, of Mendville, aged thirteen years, was killed tire other day by jumping oil’ a car which was ill motion. Andrew Logan, an engineer employed at Whitlon’H Mill, Cmc-hol ocken, had a leg and loot badly crushed on Friday, by a crank of tho engine striking it. Several furnaces m the Iftdrigh Valley are compelled to “blow mu,” on account of the i-carciiy ofmitl, caused by the suspem-imi in thecnal region. The present term of the Stale Normal School, at Ivlin boro, will close July Ud. Tho term «>f examinations will ire held Juno •Jsth, 121 th ami iiOlh. 'Hie wheal, rye, oats and corn crops, In IlieSrhuyikdl Valley, are looking very tlno and proud-.■ a large yield. Tho grass crop is good hid will not he a heavy crop. , f Al Chesirr, liehi'.vnre cminiy,on Sunday week :ji:j per-ons received the rile of con firmation in lie Cull iollc ( hm ch. Thirteen ot He in were » mvi-rts from oilier denomi nation-., A man named William Thomas wnn kill ed in TiimiMjim, on Wednesday Juki, bv be ing thrown with great force on the lluor, while being engaged In a friendly wrestling game. The Ib’tMehem 7’nr;/-.i -ays that ono hun dred and filly cur loads of notion, direct trotn the South, passed over tho Lehigh Vnlloy ndiroad u lew days since, on route to Now York. On ward - Oppnsllion-To Pres by tcriun lain Hutchinson is the brief and pithy name of hard-shell- Babllst In West Ely, Marion Countv, Missouri. Ho was bupthed at in tervals, Muny of the farmers of Lebanon county, according to the Courier, still have on hunu their last year’s crop. Il could have been sold, some months ago, for $2 60 per bushel. Now It is worth but $1 16. For tnn week ending June 5,13G0 squares of roofing slaty wore shipped by railroad and canal from Slatlngton, For samo wook 201 cases of school slates and 47 cases mau lies wore shipped from the same place. Frank Smith, a young man of nineteen 3’earn, formerly of Easton, was drowned In tho Delaware, near Monroo, Bucks county, on 1 intraday last. Ho was taken with tho cramp while bathing, and drowned before assistanco could reach him, In tho United Slates District Court of Pittsburg, on Tuesday last, a verdict was rendered iu the case of the United Slates vs. M’Klm it Co., distillers, for JI.UOO In favor ol tlx* (jovornment, for a violation of the* internal revenue luwh. It was not claimed that tho revenue had boon defraud ed, but that the distillery did not conform in'every respect to tho law of July 20, 1808 Tho West Chester JijJ'cr.tonuin says:— Two ma