' En This Life is What We Make It Lot's oftener talk of noble deeds, And rarer of the Lad ones, And sing about onr happy days, And not about the sad ones, We wore not made to fret and sigh, And when grief sleeps to wake tt, Bright happiness is standing by — This life is what we make it, Let's find the sunny side of men, Or be believer in it; A tight there le for every soul That takes the pains to win it Oh ! there's a slumbering good in all, And we perchance may wake it; Our hands contain the magle wand This life Is what we make it, Then here's to those whose loving hearts Shel light and joy abeut them ! Thanks be to them for countless gews We ne'er had know Oh ! thisshould be a happy werld n without them. To all who may partake it; The fanlt's our own if it is not— THE OLD TREE'S SECRET. We will take the house—shall we not Charlie? We had gone old fasnioned house, all over roomy, my little wile and |, from the dusty, cobwebbed the neglected cellars, and we garret to now stood together at the back of garden, critically surveying it Car ance, Living so much in the op y take the flow delightful. r one seemes { a new and fresh growth, like rs. Onl ind only, tbat this is not exactly the spot forour al fresco bou- doir.' here she glanced uneasily around Charlie I think I fancy Why not? It faces the walk, it com mauds a view of the house and the And branches haaging so low and clothed in ivy make A nice canopy above us, What is it that you object to?’ ‘I scarcely kuow. But have never liked this tree,’ It was s very old tree under which we sat, with a bugh gnarled trunk growing in a sloping position near the garden wall, and covered with ivy, About eight feet from the ground the trunk seperated into three branches, and here the ivy had matted iteelf in an impervious mass, concealing the de- cayed branches with the exception of the extremities, which here and there protruded from the green mass, white and bare, ‘They look like skeleton fingers, said Cecie, glancing up, snd it gives me the horrors. I think the tree ought to be cut down. It always reminds me of a graveyard or a haunted house.’ 1 did not at the time pay much atieny tion to her remarks, Bat some days whole garden, these somehow | | She sat silent for a moment, table | spiritual existence, the { what {in 18 i tell us the | after she again suggested that our gar den table and chairs should be remov- ed to some other spot, ‘] don’t know why it is, she said un- easily, but I always feel nervous here, I fancy there is sowething peculiar about the place—in the rustling of the ivy and in the very atmosphere; | often find myself starting and looking around with a vegue sense of something horrrble, with its distorted shape aud bare skele ton arms.’ ‘I rallied her upon being fanciful, but | promised that ;the skeleton arms’ of | the roand which she complained should be cut off, then said { | Seriousiy: ‘Charlie, did it ever occur to you that certain objects in nature —trees, for in stance—may have an individual life of their own ? I don't mean the mere vege life, but a sort of mysterious Now I can’t help fancying that this tree is conscious of is going on beneath it—that it re members things which it has witnessed long life and were it able, could some horrilile ghostly rory of the You may laugh, bi vou past. that | never sit under this love at inst with a handsome and pated fellow who made his Rppearan here | 2 short time, Deing unable to count of himself, | Mr. Gage forbade his visiting his dangh- give a satisfactory ac ter, and the two then agreed upon an | | elopement, This was put a stop to, and | the young man shortly afterwards left the place. The girl however, was very | closely watched, the parents having cause Lo suspect that she was in secret correspondence with him. And one morning she was nowhere to be found —-only a note slipped under the door of her parents’ sleeping-room informed them that she had gone to join her lov- er-—that she had taken with her all her jewels, together with five hundred dol. lars, which her father had left in his writing desk]; siace she would need money for traveling and other expen. ses. And that was tho last that they ever knew about her,’ ‘But could they not find the young man ' asked Cecie, ‘They found him, after a long search but he denied all knowledge of Emily and her intended flight. They had corresponded, and she(had assurred him that she would yet find means to join, him, but ber letters had then ceased ; nor had he ever since heard from her. This was his story. Some believe it but others, though nothing could even | her shawl which she had doubtless drop: | { wll, To this day the mystery of her fate | | and he loved her; why not marry ? i be proven against him, has dark sus picious of him. And the strangest thing was that having passed the garden wall every trace of the girl was utterly lost.’ “The garden wall?’ ‘I forgot mention that it was in thay monner she escaped, She mounted the sloping trunk of the old tree at the foot of the garden walk the seme under | which you so often sit—and then step- | | hate the sight of that tree. | ped along its norizontal branches to the This rendered evident by the broken twighs and seat On outside the wall was found top of the wall, Was tered leaves at the foot of the tree, ped or forgotien in her haste, That was remains unrevealed, though undoubted ly there was foul play somewhere, The jewels and the money were great temp tation to erime,’ That evening my wife said to me: Toat horrible tree, Charlie! not tell you that it had a veal?Perhaps it knows what became of that poor girl.’ Next Cecie went on a visit of a few days to her mother, taking the children with her. Before 8 going to my busine | cave orders respecting the tree, | wished eve ry trace of it to be removed before her return, wh cl our whenos " This was the se | had long {held. And | may add that to this | day Cecie knows nothing of it; for be sides the clergyman who gave Christ ian burial to the remains of the poor girl, no one but our selves who made the discovery ever knew the secret, We thought it best that it should be wo. But I observed that Cecie never af ter complained of the uneasy influence which had before so annoyrd her. With the removal of the tree and the burial of the bones, nature resumed her bright and joyous sway in the old garden. j eret which the old tree 80 A w—— The Beautiful Octoroon. An old citizen of New Orleans, who bad been rich before the war in lands and negroes, but who was stripped com pletely by the occupation of his plan. tation by Federal troops, told a story of an octoroon girl since the war, The girl was one of the wost beauti- ful of her race, and of eourse had been trained by her mother to be as wise as a serpent, if pot as harmless as a dove She knew just how beautiful she was, A very rich young man—that is, a young man with a very rich father, saw her and fell in love with her, A great Did 1] ecret to re | many young men had done the same thing, but she puta very high price on | herself. A house furnished ever KO | well was ull very well for common girls | but she held herself far above that sort | She the young man should have her ol thing. thay was perfectly willing but marriagewns her price nothing less, | When he told she assured him that love was not worth sn whit to a woman unless it was legalized, and that if he loved her a« he snid he did, he ought to be willing to make the sacrifice she required that he | might possess her, He beggad, stormed swore, entieated, wept, wailed and howled, but to no avail. She was as cool as She loved him a cucumber The that he mustered up courag young msn | to his father, I'he old man was very stern with him His gon marry an octoroon ! Never! “Do irate father style, * it, sir.” he said in the regular and you will never f ’” look me in the | wzain, In vain the y he Vain Femur man that he had been young once Was nim but not till | Mion, ) | | f very love for you pm ing you erable, Bat | m must see her “Tmpossible T"' was the he writes re l ly. and the door was slammed in his face that Maria for a very good It was impossible he should see reason, viz. : his father was with her trying to persaade her to accept his “protection,” which tae astute young man rejected, as sho had a similar offer for his son, a very singular position. He could not see his Jove without the consent of his father at all to get his consent, He oovld make nothing at all of it, About a week thereafter the mystery was cleared up. He received the fol. lowing from his father, dated New York : My Dear Sox: All you said to me of Maria is true, She is indeed everything that is lovely in person and mind, She is at once the most beautiful and the wisest of ber sex, I should be perfectly willing for you to marry her but for one trifling fact, I have found it essential tomy happiness that I should marry her myself, which | have done. I have provided for you amply, snd shall proba) bly never see you again. My wife and I propose to live hereafter in Paris, 1 hope to here from you oceasionly, Papa. The young Edward found himself in | her how much he loved | —AT THE— Job Office And Have YourJob Work CHEAPLY, NEATLY AND WITH DIPATGH. to Subscribe “CENTRE DEMOCRAT,” ‘The LARGEST and CHEAPEST Paper in Bellefonte. ONLY $150 PER YEAR, IN: ADVANCE. COR.” ALLEGHANY & BISHOP,STS/ BELLEFONTE, PA)
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