0350214D1120)
V.IO V°
[From the St. Lotrio Reville.]
LaSt Tear,—and - The First.
StrPraZKA. 1 .
•
• - .
ins in early bopah time,
l am pains and fears were few,
f ighs to reach fair manhood's prime
Were all the pains I knew;
- gentle were my wisimm r all,
A s - gentle as the dew
t Os upon an infant's grave,
B r andt the mourning yevi. -
=r one whom I did loie so well
JJ words, have never spoken ;-
1 ( he alone could wield the'spell
By which the fount was broken!
-r e f was one of those proud boys
t wh o m pedants sullen deem,
lo seemed to weep for parted joys,
&yield the lash a streata.!
Alsi yet 'twas but a siiigleivoird
Tht tame so sore amiss
o ne * L at I should unmoved: have heard
F rom any lips but his ;
ret ilea it poi a beavy weight,
_Cleaving the breast in twain:.
,tl:6i bursting first the wide goo d gam ,
That frees the heari from pain. ,‘"
gineier saw the tear,that fell,
\or heard' he of the wound
Rich harshly bade a spirit swell
That bad no words for a sound;
t 81mq:faded from my heart
'hat:first hffeetion dear,
Ansel' dui briny fount to start,
,nd yield its virgin tear!
. boyhood pass'd and manhood then,
That age for which.' pined,
lila me an equal, among : men,
•ife's searing cares to find
of life's joys, too I have known,
'feud as the dreamizig boy
/ hoped for,,when he mused alone!
O'er future few and'joy.
sadness and affliction's sting
In tern have held their sway,
/ forward still thiei shadoyva fling
O'er every future day ;
11 long that fount remained to me
A cent for bursting grief,
'lours of gloom and misery,
Tcomforters the chief. .
it is closed. Nor into birth
;ould I a tear-droicall,
all the sorrows of the earth
;pain ray head should fall. _
lore that solitary:balm,
Ist luxury of grief, -
field a reified spirit calm,
)r whis . per it relief.
why that last drop left e well,
r why it was the last,
/axis are sad enough to, ten—
ted all, and all is past ! •
\ad the'eye been dry thatlelt
Ice more the briny wave,
rich stewed, glistened, as I knelt
In silence O'er a grave r
[For the Bradford Reporter.]
qluth the Seriptures."-rtbrist.
4 14, search the sacred page,
At'iray- for light divine,
Ard Eke tile' sun, C let' itsrays;
On nature'kdarkness shine.
Szazeh at the rising deism;
The day spring from on high,
Shil then illumine thy soul,
And bid thy darkness fly.
Seaich at the noon - tide hoar,, .
When meridian glows;
an quaff the_ . cooling stream,
That from salvation flows.
:h when the day declines,
or let thy ardor cease ;
1 for you there shall find,
me happiness and peace;
La affliction's hoar,
sill griefs assuage—,
.1m in character. of /*I%
Haines on the sacred Pagl-:
mit in the hour of weal,'
When happiness is thine;
-4 for celestial joys 7-
Earth has no h i ps': divine.
&arch 'till thy dying hour,
"Twill then thy passport prove
Hugh death's dark vale,
To its pure source above.
tsvrtta, Ps.
Epigram.
“ Harry can you. tell,
revs do to draw so well !”
" Yes, you may, rely on't,
tat they'll step a client.
, ward, " No; they closer . . tali him—
first o6tiiiq the suit—thei strip MeV!,
1 ,
eash'.44. 6 • •
-Ar• %. V • ; "2g%, r • ~.- . :•) •
• .
ra
a ,v 0 •
40 • - ' •
-
• •
[Prom the Philadelphia Dollar Newspaper.]
• - Love and Death,
.Igend of the Delaware
BY MRS. E. S. SWIFT.
And then their love was secret !-011-, it is
Most exquisite to have a fount of bliss
sacred to us alone !---Miss Lcindon.
I was spending a week with a party
of friends at the Delaware Water Gap.
'We had,ust returned from a delightful
ramble through the woods to Flat Rock,
and were seated. on the piazza of the
hotel, watching the lights and shadows
made by the passing clouds - on the Jer
sey mountain, which rose to the height
of sixteen hundred • feet; immediately
opposite to us. The day, though late
in August, was as capricious as one in
April ; sunshine and showers hadlal
ternated with the hours ; the sun, a few
moments previous, had beeb bathing
the wooded summit of the mountain in
a flood of golden radiance, piercing the
thickets of underwood, and revealing to
the curious eye many .a leafy, nook of
vernal beauty ; now, it was raining hea
yily ; and the dull plashing sound of
the rain-drops, as they fell upon the
river immediately beneath us, imparted
to us all a sensation of melancholy.—
We were suddenly arroused by Emilie
eiclaiming— ,
- ‘. Look down the Gap ; see, the sun
is already shining there; sorely this
place is bewitched, do look at the rain
bow on the water."
We all arose, and gazed in the di
rection to which she pointed our atten 7
lion, and one of the most vivid- colored'
rainbows I ever beheld-lay pictured
across the river from shore to shore.—
In vain we strained our eyes in alt di
rections towards the sky, the dull lead
en-hued clouds above us gave no histo
ry of the beabtiful vision. For a few
minutes the bow of promise rested on
-the, stormy waters, then its rich paint
ing of many colors faded from our
sight.
In about half an hour the sun was •
again shining merrily; and'every leaf
and sprig seemed hung with precious
gems. The air was laden with the
perfume from the woods, and as the
cool breezes swept across the piazza,
we knew they had passed over lone
coverts of romantic beauty, where fair
ies might hide, and where the ferns, the
mosses, and the wild4lowers grew.—
We had worn out dresses and shoes in
our daily, visits to the PCnipsylvania and
Jersey Mountains ; we haefteen pioneer
ed by our good-natured landlord and
his pretty little twins, to all the known
lions ofztheGap ; but we were hourly
making vo yages of discovery for our
selves ; and when we assembled around
the well provided table of our host, each
had his or her adventure to relate. One
had found out an echo in the deep for
est that answered to every word; an
other had been botanizing, and` the
mantel 'stand was filled with tumblers
of gorgeous colored flowers ; another,
a disciple of old Isaac Walton, had
been angling, and a dish of fine sun-fish
attested his success.
In the evenings, the piazza was our
favorite promenade. We had some de
lightful musicians with us, and in mu-'
sic and conversation the hours glided
away with such rapidity, that we al
,Ways expressed surprise at the short
ness of the evening, when our host an
nounced that eleven o'clock baaqtruck.
Our party consisted of six ladies and
four gentlemen, all unmarried ; but,
very unfortunately, we were too closely
related for Cupid, to show his face
amongst us.
" What !" I hear my reader exclaim,
"no love ; I would not give a fig for
such a story."
- Nor 1 either, dear reader ; particular
ly as , the scene is laid in the Delaware
Gap—the very head-quarters of the
wily god, where Nature, in her most
glorious dress, keeps jubilee :
't And where, beneath, around, above,
Earth, water, air, seemed full of love."
Ah !,the deep recesses, of those for
est shades, the close intricacies of those
verdant aisles, how often have their 817
leneecand- - scilitudes been the choien
sanctuaries of Lcove's impassioned. Con
fessions ; and , hearts have It een united
in those solemn old .woods, never again
to be,riven asunder;.and there, per
chance,- , -
' Young bouts, w,eie plighted when the atone ,Wen!clark.uPott liftee sky,.
In fall•fleep ltnoveledge of their task; -
. To coffer and ' ,
" The' rain overand gone;",and
the afternoon .svas so serene and beapti
lel, Ave All sallied_down to the shore.
and',soort filled the only. ' boat belonging
to — the establishment.. - Josephiee, a
very Ovely girl from Baltimote.sat like
Regan!less Or Denanciation from any --Quarter.-Gov. rev , '
-TIE.
P OOMLEIDSIs•DIRZDIFOIB @VOW% Thlo9 R0T231111E31111 Vattitio,
the queen of beauty on the brow of
the boat, singing snatches of old songs
in the, gayety .of per heart. She was
one of . the brightest looking beings
ever beheld ; tali and graceful. with a
face of uncommon loveliness ; her com
pletion was soft . and transparent, and
the slightest emotion tinted her delicate
cheek with the glow of the .damask
rose ; her. eyes of a dark blue were
shaded by long black lashes, which im
parted a pectiliar-tenderness to their ex
preision ; her hair, also black; bluster
ed in short thick curls round her small
and finely shaped head. Occlsionally
she *bold, pause in her songs, and a
shade of 'sorrow, it,might be of memo
ry, would flit across her face. An en
thusiast in her love of Nature, she sat
gazing upon the beautiful scenery, now
Warbling like a bird; and anon calling
our attention to some bold projecting
cliff, that looked from its elevatinn rea
dy ni fall and crush us.
As our boat glided into the.deep-wa
ters of the Gap, we all' kept silence ;
shut out from the world by the tower
ing Mountains on each side of us; with
naught but the sky above, and the dark
river rolling beneath us, an awe as of
some Mighty Presence , fell upon our
spirits : and as we emerged from the
solemn gloom of that magnificentscene,
the tones of our voices were 'more sof
tened,. conversation took a more serious
cast, and we felt like those who had re
cently, been engaged in some holy re
ligious service.
But full of life and youth, as a few
rapid strokes of the oat brought our
boat into the glad suns hine, we again
awakened the echoes with songs and
laughter. Cousin Tom, as we called
a fine looking young than of five and
twenty, had arrayed himself in all the
various colored shawls of the party, and
from his picturesque appearance, might
have been mistaken for Osceola, or
some Other renowned Indian warrior ;
he now proposed to land us on the
Jersey shore, just at the point where
the river makes an abrupt turn, one of
the most romantic spots imaginable.—
Here, while we were seated on the
trunk of an enormous tree, that had
been struck .by lightning some years
previois, and still laid as it had fallen
close to the shore, Einilie impatiently
exclaimed—
.(:What a pity it is that there is no
legend connected,. with this sublime
place;.
how delighttut it would be now
to listen to someinteresting story of the
past."
Why, ladies !" replied hei brother,
"among so many fair creatures. sure
ly you have some modern reminiscen
ces that would makes very pretty way
side tale ; some diary of a heart, for
instance, some stray leaves from Love's
Album."
" Yes," said Cousin Tom, "I am
sure these girls have lots of love se
crets ; here is Josa now, looking so
demure and.modest, she has never ar
rived at the age of twenty without mak—
ing some acquaintance with Cupid,
know ; come, blossom, let us have the
lasi
We alL,iurned onr eyes on Josephine;
AO the aatation and annoyance depic
tbd on hee'sweet face were distressing i ;
her. brow and cheek for a moment man
tled with the tell-tale crimson, and the
next instant the pallor of death settled
every ,feature. Cousin Tom, in his
careless badinage, had evidently touch
ed a wound, not ye,t closed. An em-
barrassing silence followed, but we
were relieved by. Emilie exclaiming--
" See, we shall have company, at
last, at the Gap-house; there are two
gentlemen on horseback on the oppo
site side."
For a short period they were seen
slowly ascending the - rough and hilly
road ; but the thick:hedge of laurels by
which it was bordered, soon concealed
them from our view. Our next move
ment was to try and arrive at the Hotel
before them; and make ourselves pre
sentable at supper; for the sun had al
ready) disappeared, and the twilight,
which in this mountainous pass is so
rapidly succeeded by, night, was fast
approachirig. Hitherto, we bad been
the, only visitors at the Gap, and had
the" house, all to.ourselves; consequent
being a family party, we were riot
as particular in our costume as' we
-would -have been, had- strangers been
present, • ,
half an hour of fast roviing soon
brought us to . `the landing-place at the
foot of the rocks,- ClOse to the hotel;
and - We - lig to i arrange our
dresses and meet , together 'on oaf fa
vorite '. lounge, theplazza, when the
sound}ofhoofs'warned us that-the travel
lefe hid, atriicdi,.bilt strange to say,
but one . solitary horseman appeared.--
Hira i theit, was a mystery-4-what had
become of the other? We had alldis.
tinctly seen two gentlemen, and there
was no other house on the road, except
an old dilapidated tavern far down'in'
the gloomiest part of the Gap, , a place
we were sure no I traveler in his senses
would halt at, with our commodione
hotel in *sped, fur, as it Wastituited
upon a high hill, it could be seen from
a considerable distance.
Cousin Tom capered about as if he
had gone mad, declaring; „ it Was de
lightful, a perfect Radcliffe. idventure ;-
he had no,dnubt thtnext morning the_
traveler would be fatted concealed in .a
laurel thicket, stark dent!, with a Bowie
knife sticking in his heart."
Einilie laughed, and averred, that
hereafter should be a convert to old
Cotton Mather; henceforth, she should
be a faithful belieVer in witchcraft.—
That lonely road, with its monntain
bulwark on one side, and the dark roll
ing river: 011 the other, looked like a
haunt for ghomes, witches, and all the
dread family of evil. spirits:" -
- In the midst of our conjectures and'
discussions, the supper-bell' rang.
j and I
believe each of us , felt some curioaity,
tesee the new
,nomer._ A j slight made
young man, dressed' in black, with ' a
very intellectual face, stood conversing
with our host in the supper -room, who
introduced him to the company by the
name of the Reverend Mr. Bennett. ' I
exchanged a hasty glance with Cousin
Tom ; his conceit of murdered travel-,
er by such white clerical hands, seem
ed soridiculous, that I could with much
difficulty, refrain from laughing, as I
returned the gentleman's salutation.—
An hour was spent after supper in so
cial conversation, when Mr. Bennett,
pleading fatigue, retired for the night.
We immediately 6 - ailed the landlord
to know if Mr. Bennett had mentioned
having a companion with him.
" Yes ; a friend of his had intended
to have accompanied him to the Gap,
but his horse had unfortunately fallen
lame on the rout, and he was for the
present-Obliged to remain a shert'dis
tance behind."'
But where? where V' we all ex
claimed. •
" The gentleman did not . mention
where he had left his friend, but our
host supposed about two miles below,
opposite Columbia—the only stopping
place that he was aware of, near the
Gap."
We did not think it expedient to tell
him that we had seen both gentlemen
not a mile from his hotel ; and we
thought it hardly probable that a travcf
er would journey back two miles over
one of the worst roads in Pennsylvania,
to sheltera lame animal, when his sta
bles were direct \ in his way, and not
half the distance.
Long that night, after we had sought
our chambers, we conversed about the
missing traveler. Josephine and icy
self shared the same roonr, and I was
sitting at the window, gazing down the
road, now illumined by by the moon
light, when a sob from lay companion
made me start. She was standing , by
the dressing table, reading a closely
written note ; so absdrbed was she in
her occupation, that she appeared un
conscious of my presence ; twice she
perused the note through blinding tears,
then passionately. kissing the paper,
she threw herself on the bed in a par
oxysm of giief. Surprised as well as
alarmed by such a display of sorrow in
one generally so cheerful, I approached,
and throwing tny•arms around her, beg
ged her to be calm, and tell me the
cause of such sudden distress.
, ••Oh, cousin ! I cannot he,
calm,"
she exclaimed.; he is here,"
" Who, dear Joss
~ Henry !" , answered , she, wildly
gazing at me ; my Henry, whom I
lore better than my life'; he whom my
father hiss forbidden me, on pain' of his
endleis displeasure, to see, or speak to
him again ; and, cousin," added she,
.with 'trembling lips; ~. I have solemnly
promised to obey him ;" and again she,
buried her sweet tearful face. in the
pillow. For some time she wept as if
her tear% -Were breaking, but by de
grees, becoming 'More calm; ' she con
fided 'to me her '. , .titory • of true loVe."
Her father; Mr; ,Gorden, was i an
emblem physician in Baltimore, , in >a'
successful practice of about ten thou
sand a year. He :was( one of thosel
fortitiate individuals_ with .whick' our,
country abounds, wilo,,b , j,- superior tali
ents and industry; had risen _from' the
- middle vanks' of Life; "to take an 'no-,
knowledged station among, the aristoc-i
racy of theland. , Jesephine _ was hitt
idol ; proud and overbearing to 'all : thp.
,world :beside. . in, the' presence of Fie:
beautiful child, hie nattire became ticif-,
tened. to Ilneat Siniinine tenderrtess.-Li
Her , ed . cation land accOinpliishmelitii
r • k
ME
had been' his,pecaliar 'care ;
genee - towards her knew ri, hounds,
the eXiensive preients bimstatitly
lavished upon her, silently,attest,ed hciw .
well Ihe loved her 4-'thimey Was dross
in' his eyes coMparect to het happiness
or enjoyment . ;
_yet strange iirelate, he
bad refosed•the.hnd of his :daughterto
liarry 1.,e Roy, because he was riot rich;
A l ientlernen, Whose only sect amen.
dation was, •his_immense Wealth; _Wan I
the, auitorupon .whom , his chotee. fell„
Married to him, Josephineiti
tient would be of ohnost regal splentlbr;
his ambitious dreams for her ;aggran
dizeMent would he fully realized ; and
he still trustedethat her filial afreetion
and 'reverence for his wished and opiri-
Joni Would prevail over thelleie she
hadiconfessed for Le Roy ; 'and in his
proud imaginings, he alread3i, beheld
his darling girl the Wife of thepillien
etre. t
Harry Le Roy had been' disinissed
with: a, coldness and hauteur that. to one
of his ardent temperament :and South
ern:blood had been interpreted into a
direct and deliberate insult..
.Thebit
terness of his 'outraged feelings had
been iittreased by several letters that
he 'had written to Josephine being.. re
turned unopened, and hiebeing inform
ed that she had lett Baltimore ,to visit
some relations in a distant: State ; no
definite information could be obtained ;
and, wretched Mid hopeless; he had re-
sorted to travel to deaden the misery of
his mind.
By the mink chance, in p biladel-
phia, he obtained intelligenee ' that she
had accompanied a party 'of her rela
tiVes in an excursion to the ,Delaware
Water Gap. His- resolution was in
stantly formed ; he would follow her,
see her, and learn his doom :from her
own lips.
The Mystery was now solved. Har
ry Le Roy was the missing traveler.—
His tenderness for the feelings ofJose
phine would not permit hito appear
before her
_unannounced ;1 and he had
remained in the solitary old! house in
the Gap, whilst his friend, ,Mr. Bennett,
had preceded him to our hotel.
Here, dearest Josephine !" the
note went on to say, .4 I await your de
cision ; to me; it will be happiness or
misery,. life or death ! l'he yearning
love that fills my , heart for you must be
satiefied by the sight of that dear face.
I feel that I cannot any longer exist
without your presence. My Jose
phine ! my beautiful . , my . own ! yes,
my own ! for hearts that have been ce
mented like ours cannot , be disunited
by any earthly fiat. When and where
we shall meet, I leave to: you, my best
beloved; but in a few' hours I hope to
hold you to a heart ,which, since we
parted, has been filled but with one
long thought of thee—only thee!" .
I confess, after reading this note, I
never felt more perplexed in my
I was some years older than Josephine,
and I knew she would depend upon me
for advice and assistance, but I also
knew that her father would never for
give any -interference with his com
mands ; for the lovers to meet -would
be madness ;but how was I to prevent
After a few msments of troubled
'cogitation, I determined to remain neu
itral, and let things take their course.--
;1 knew that wicked urchin, Cupid, was
not to be told .. thus far shalt thou go •
land no farther,' and I foresaw that he
'intended to play some - of his most mis
chtevous pranks in his sequestered spot
-that looked as tf tt had been express
ly created tohe the earthly Eden of his
votaries. 'Josephine sat watching my
conntenance!with breathless eagerness ;
she looked like a sculptured image, so
pale and. 'still; gently lifting the•dark
ringlets that, shaded her cheek, I softly
kissed it; the electric cord of sympa
thy vibrated in each bosom, and With ;
out my uttering a word she felt that I .
would aid and assist her.; and, throw
hersalfl on my bosom, she
.wept
like a child! ' •
After much persuasion, I induced her
to retire to , rest, but •her slurribers were
broken and, uneasy ; she repeatedly
murmured -the named her lover ; , and
I saw. by the
night-lamp large tear.drops
glistening on her fringed eye-lids ; once,
in supplichting accents, she exclaimed,
4 ' Father ! dear. Father !"'
The next morning - : . Mi.T.ennett pro
posed an ~ezciion' to .Stroudsburg,'a.
village, a, few; "miles , -distant from' the
Gap. Josephine, on the plea of, a ner-,
wins- headache, hid nOt 'appeared, at
the breakfaSt-table and when' the rest
of The e party gladly„acceded to his pro
posal,, excused 'Myself as nurse; to the
invalid. Mr.'Benneit gave me' a quick
glance of-intelligence: ,and, banding me
a timiqueti: of wild roue, - begged "I
would' preient them.:With.- his , Compri
merits, tti Miss Gordon."
e
ME
Easz lac, IN W °D n tint a'othsta
laill
1. The carriages were'loon aftheAoor
and, with minrregtete that;l coUldliet
go L mith'-thent,lt My 'great relief, ' th ey
_departed.. I immediately.asicendid,
Josephine's ' chamber,, eml:feeifi her
sitting the window, quiticalm' and
Composed.' 'ln _my: ,abience she' had
taken a sudden-resolve to.see Le!R'oy-f
‘k she - would,", she said,'irtell him of
the solemn promise herfaiher had ex
acted froin.hert. she ' would convince
him it were better that they should not
Meet again—for: the ; last time she would
hear his voice and see hie face. !Oh l"
continued sfie. - ivith quivering aCcenti,
4# situated as I now am.. even my dear
father. Would not . object to this inter
view.
I had given her'the libequet of rases;
and whilst speakine she;' bad loisened
the cord that bound them togi3ther, in
tending to arrange them in a chinavaie
that stood on-the` table; when a email
twisted note, that had been concealed
in the centre of the bunch, fell to the
floor; with a glotimg cheek she raised
it, s4ring--.A. Oh, this isso like Harry
Has!, many, bouquets-of 'white mulles
he used to send me, but in my eager
nesS to'secure the dear little billet-doux
that I knew nestled - inside, the poor
flowere often periihed." '
She eagerly perused the Well known
character, and whilst iihe diCso, her
beautiful face became radiant with hap:
piness ; I. never saw joy Vividly depict
ed on anything other countenance.
" Oh, cousin !" she exclaimed, " he
will be here in ten minutes, and I hie
not seen him forr—ah 1 me-=so many
long months !"
Tears of rapture gliiteredin.her soli
eyes, and she yielded herself to the de
licious intoxication the certainty of see
ing him again inspired, apparengy
tboughtleas of all consequences. I *ill
not portray their meeting, foriosephine
insisted tipon . my being present. Theirs
was no common attachment, every im
pulsive of their souls was given to each
other,; few words were spoken, but as
he held her to , his heart every feature
proclaimed the victory of Love. The
hours to them seemed but minutes, and
when at,last, fearful of being surprised
by our returning party, I gently hint
ed to him that it was time to depart, he
saucily told me, " he did not'intend to
go at all." But at length, after Jose
phine promising him, if I would accom 7
pony her, to meet him in the afternoon,
in the old road, a sequestered spotnear
a water-fall e immediately beneath the
hotel, but by a steep bank of rocks
completely concealed from observation,
he consented to leave her.
She watched him as he sloivly pac:
ed along the road, until he' was hidden
from her sight; and then, for the firm
time, the th'ought was awakened in-her
mind that - she had broken the pledge
she had given her father, and, contrary
to his his known command, ~was again
about to - hold' a clandeitine interview
with her lover. - -
The struggle in her mind was in
tense; her wounded conscience rehel t
led against It& disobedience; she was
distracted. With contending, emotions,
for she was most tenderly attached to
her father, who to her had ever been;
excepiin this only- instance', the most
kind and indulgent of parents. But,
then again, she had centered every hope
of her t. life upon Le Roy ; what should
she dol Repel him--see him no more;
fore,vert? the thought had to much ag
ony in it to be endured. No ; she
would meet him once mote; and then
they Would'part, and to be to each oth
er like the dead-only a memory ! '
Alt ! delusive aophistry of a fond
heart! The:path of duty- is a straight
o 4; and he or she' who deviates frorri
ioknarrow track becomes bewildered
in a labyrinth from,which there is nu
return.
The old road, as it is called, now eh=
tirely disuSed - , was shady .and retired;
it was close to the river's brink, and
covered with a rich' green sward, thick.
ly i gemmed with the blue forget-me-not
— rf same flower so carefully cultivated
in our gardens which, in this 'mountain
regibn, grows , wild and abundant.'
,A
waterfall - of - considerable height - fell over
a precipice above, .imparting a refresh
ing Coolness to the air; huge rocks, of
strange and irregular shapes, carpeted
with' thick moss, lay. Pil il along the
shore, forming - luxuribna "Sting.places
for the lo,iterer. ' - i -_ * ;
• - :To this spot I.:.accompanied ;Jose.
phine. to bid a last farewell.to her,lov
er.
.Ire•lid been now a week at the
Pap: and' our `arrangements were al.
toady made •to leave it the next day.--
as it torn in the.road biought us in view
The Taillioid, of tbe Gap Hotel:told 'us. that
once befeire he had wiintesed a eimiler eight.
.
LCONcLVDED ON :701IRTIV PAGE.)
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