(HE DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA: Samrban ftlormnn, Junnurn 5, IBolj. .Stltittb ®alt. Till; LADY ELEANOR: A TALE OF THE TIME OF CEOMWELL. r.Y AGNES STRICKLAND. It was neither a time for marrying nor giv inir in marriage, when the nuptial vows were prehanged between the gallftnt cavalier, Col. Montfort, and Lady Alice Seagrave, one of the beautiful co-heiresses of a wealthy noble man. who had contrived to steer his course throutrh the contending storm of that momen tum period so cantiously, as to avoid commit ting himself irrevocably, either with the king nr the parliament. The bridal of his eldest daughter was not sanctioned by the consent of Lord Scagrave, though solemnized within his own chapel : it was a secret and stolen match, contracted unknown to him, with no other witness than the young sister of the pale, trem bling Alice, and the old porter cf the castle, Peter Look wood, the foster-father of both the vouug ladies, and who, on this occasion, took iipon himself the paternal office of giving away the noble bride. Lord Seagrave would sooner have beheld that fair form, shrouded, coffined, and laid low in the dust and darkness of the grave, than seen her finger encircled by the bridal ring which united her fates with those of the high minded but impoverished partizan of his cap tive sovereign. Lady Seagrave, the step mother of his daughters, had jiersuaded him that her favorite nephew. Sir James Balders, would be the most eligible husband he could select f>r Lady Alice. Sir James Balders had i v id to the full, as much world-craft ashiin ■!f in the groat struggle between the parlia ment ami the crown—nay, even more, for he even enjoyed some credit with the former, in corceijuence of having taken the covenant, jr-t at the critical moment when success be i.an to denote which was the better cause to them who had not previously made up their minds on this point. Hi- e-tates were contiguous to those of Lord Seagrave. and the alliance appeared very desirable to all parties but Lady Alice and Iwr si -tcr. There was ulso another dissentient j in the family, whose opposition was perhaps the most important of all. This was father Benedict, the household jtriest at Bcechmont 11 "ice ; for Lord Scagrave and his daughters were members of the olden faith. Sir James Haulers was a sort of lukewarm puritan, and Father Benedict strenuously advocated the caue of the Catholic Colonel Montfort to Lady Alice, who was only too williug to be lieve that, for once, religion was on the side of love. Their correspondence, their meetings, were all arranged, as it were, under the mystic shadow of the cross, and w hen the trying day drew near, that the valiant Colonel Montfort was ordered by his commander, Lord Coring, on a service of peculiar peril, connected with the defence of Colchester, Father Benedict was the first to back his suit to Lady Alice for a private union. It was in the cold grey dawn of a showery April morning, when the said Father Benedict forsook his pillow without a summons, and donned his hymeneal stole with the comfortable reflection that lie was about to perform a good a A a ri>ptable service to holy mother church, ly uF'ing the elder co-heiress of the lands a:. : ■ < mors of Scagrave, to a member of the I'ri ':- Iv at the same instant as the chapel f'"' k t id the third hour of morning, the por taof Bcechmont Hall were cautiously un f k'ii hv Deter Lockwood the porter, to ad i! the muffled forui of the cavalier bridegroom, I ha 1 exchanged velvet hat and drooping ; fir the plain steel cap usually worn by ' Knuud-head troojicrs, and shrouded his Iv i ii'in in a frieze cloak to escape obser vatinn. At the same moment the timid yet .rmis bride and her sister bride-maid, srm a'bred in their muslin wrapping-dresses, ' ' <-wpls. flowers, or any other nuptial ■ - mlidod with noiseless steps from parat" chambers, and, exchanging a i ' ••lubracc as they mot in the corridor, liur- j u i the chapel together by one door, as ' priest with his breviary in his -'id and the sjmrred and booted colonel, fol ''•v'l by lb tor Lockwood, entered by that i i -ire. No greeting beyond that of an ex- i K' cvo pressure of hands took place between any of t ],. The tapers were dimly | going at the altar in the misty morning : f The priest commenced the service of :: ; a, nmony hi a low, cautious voice, scarcely v 'p tic compass of a whisper. The respon • • "f the bridegroom and bride w ere {ironounc f n the same key, so as to be inaudible ten iw>s frutn the spot where they stood ; and if an . v had witnessed the scene from the '' ■ranee of the chapel, it would have had the a Ppearanec rather of a visionary tnbfwu con ,'' >rt he sorry to see my family bearings quartered with the cognizance of either." "There is little chance now, I fear, of any of the leading members of the new govern ment forming an alliance with families suspect ed of attachment to the old order of things," said Lady Eleanor. "So much the better," rejoined Lord Sea grave : "I neither desire to connect myself with ruined spendthrifts nor upstart traitors. It was a bad day for men who had anything to lose, w hen the ill-omened names of Cava liers ami Round-heads were first heard in Eng land. I protested from the beginning that I would have nought to do with either. Tell me of men like mv future son-iu-law, Sir James Balders." "A stagnant pool la the midst of a vortex of contending waves; a dish of skimmed milk that nothing can agitate but its own acer bity retorted Lady Eleanor. "My good father he will never tie son-in-law of yours, PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " RESARDLEBS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." unless Lady Seagrave present you with a youn ger daughter for his bride. Alice and I have both foresworn him." "How dare you talk of such rebellings, my lady prate-apace 1 I tell you Sir James Bal ders shall be the husband of one ot you ; I care not which." "Neither doth he, as we are co-heiresses," said Lady Alice ; "bnt I had rather be wed ded to my shroud than to a husband of his fashion." "Your reasons, Madam?" "They are so numerous that I will only name one. He is a Puritan." "So much the better, according to the pre sent state of things in Eugland, and he hath promised that you shall have perfect liberty of conscience." "Indeed ! and will you confirm his liberal guarantee, on that most importunt point ?" "Undoubtedly." "Then, mv dear lord and father, I nm re leased from all matrimonial engagements with Sir James Balders, for my conscience will never permit me to contract the deadly sin of marrv ing a heretic and a man whom 1 detest," said Lady Alice. "Then Eleanor must," "Nay, I have the same objection as my sis ter." "At any rate ynv cannot twist your own perversity into a case of conscience," said Lord Seagrave, "since yon have once expressed your willingness to wed a heretic." "Ay, one of my own choosing, my lord, which makes all the difference in the world," said Lady Eleanor ; "but as that will never be now, I pray you to allow me to enjoy ray maiden liberty in quietness, my lord." "You shall do no such thing. I am deter mined to choose miue own successor, by wed ding my co-heiresses after mine own pleasure, or I shall have two preaching son-in-laws forced upon me by the parliament forsooth !" "It will require more power than the parlia ment possesses, to compel me to wed contrary to my own good liking," said Lady Eleanor. "Or me, either," rejoined Lady Alice : "therefore, good father, let us be at peace." "I will not allow either of yon to know what peace is, till I see one or other the wife of Sir James Balders," rejoined Lord Sea grave. Three short weeks after this declaration, the co-heiresses of Seagrave, by the unexpect ed death of their father, became the arbitra tresses of their own destiny, being of full age to enter into possession of the extensive patri mony which had devolved upon them as the sole representatives of their ancient line. But on the same evening that witnessed the obsequies of the last Lord Seagrave, the alarm ing rumor of the fall of Colchester, and the sanguinary execution of two of the brave de fenders of that last stroug-hold of loyalty, Sir George Lisle and Sir Charles Lucas, was bro't to Beechmont Hall by some of the attendants on Lord Seagrave's funeral. Scarcely, indeed, hail the grave closed over his remains, ere this agitating communication was whispered to the pale, weeping Alice, whose natural grief lor the death of her father, had been in no slight degree aggravated by the reflection of the un dutifni step she had taken in contracting a marriage unknown to him, and certainly in op position to his wishes. The sudden nature of Lord Seagrave's death in consequence of a fall from his horse, had prevented her from con fessing her fault and suing for his pardon ; aud while she stood beside his grave with the feel ings of a self-condemned culprit, the tidings which the sympathizing porter had lingered beyond the rest of the mourners to communi cate, fell on her trembling ear like the knell of her beloved husband ; for Colonel Montfort was scarcely less distinguished for his zeal and active services in the royal cause, than the vic tims who had been immolated by the vindictive Round-heads. The chapel with its sable hangings, which had so recently been tbe scene of her stolen nuptials, swam before her sight ; she caught at one of the pillars for support., and, but for the prompt assistance of her sister, would have fn'ilen on the marble pavement. " Be of more courage, Alice, dearest," said Lady Eleanor. "We know not yet that Col. Chester has really fallen." " 111 news is always true," sobbed Lady Alice, "and my husband, my dear, dear hus band, is perhaps at this moment a mangled, disfigured corpse, murdered by the merciless traitors, who have slain so many noble gentle men in cold blood." " Hush, my sweet sister, you may be, and are. I trust, distressing yourself needlessly"— interposed Ladv Eleanor. " Colchester is not so far distant, but we may in the course of a few hours asetertain all particulars connected with Col. Montfort." " Nay, I will ride thither myself," cried Lady Alice, starting to her feet. " i am my own mistress now, and where my hnsband is, there will I lie also. His prison shall he my palace, and if they kill him they shall kill me also, and we will bo buried in the same grave." " No, Alice, no, yon must not think of such rash things," cried Lady Eleanor, detaining her sister with gentle violence. " No, no, my lady !" said Peter," Colehester is not a place for gentle ladies the first night of its fall, neither must it be said that my lord's own daughter rode forth like leagnering lass on the night of his bnrial to seek her lover." "My hnsband, my own wedded hnsband !" shrieked Lady Alice, wringing her hands and struggling with her sister. " Alice, you must not, shall not go," cried Ijady Eleanor, " only be patient for this one night, and we will send Peter to inquire the truth of these fearful tidings, and how it fares with Montford ; and then, if need be, we will go together." " Be it so, then," said Lady Alice, "but in the meantime, how long will it take some swift messenger to ride post haste to Colchester, to inquire of my husband's state ?" " My sou James hath already ridden off for that purpose. Lady Alice." said tbe porter, "and 1 trust that with God's blessing, wc mgy look for his return in about six hoar's time.— ! Father Benedict hath also started for Colches ter, to make espials into the state of things there; and likewise Sir James Balders, as I heard, called lustily to horse, as soon as he had led my Lady Seagrave from the chapel, and I suppose his purpose was to pay his compli ments to General Fairfax aud the other Ronndhcad traitors on their signal triumph." " The time-serving poltroon !" cried Lady Alice. " Ay, now may we be sure that Colches ter hath indeed fallen, and the cause of loyalty is forever crashed ; but Eleanor, sweet 6ister. doth not his preseuce at Colchester augur the worst for me ?" " Fear not, Lady Alice ; for let the worst come to the worst, I do suppose one word from my Lady Eleanor will set all right ; that is, if she be not too proud to sue master Richard Arncliff," observed old Peter. " Eleanor, dear Eleanor !" cried Lady Alice, grasping her sister's arm beseechingly. Lady Eleanor turned away. " Alice, it is impossible !" " Nay, I will go to him myself, then," said Lady Alice. " You, Alice ?" " Yes, I ;—dost think that a punctilio is to prevent mc from making an effort to preserve my hnsband from the same fate which has rob bed the world of Lisle and Lucas ?" " Remember, my Lady, yon have promised to abide patiently till morning,or till the return of the messengers that have been despatched to Colchester," said Peter. " Then I will keep my anxious vigil here," cried Lady Alice, seating herself at the foot of one of those stately canopied tombs, whose mys tic ornaments and sculptured effigies had escap ed the desecration of William Dowsing and his brother parliamentary commissioners, in their recent destructive visits to the churches and and chapels in Suffolk. Sadly and slowly, that long cheerless night wore away ; and just as the early beams of a glorious sunrise stole through the lofty stained windows of the chapel, and lighted up the richly fretted screen and altar, a step that seemed, by its hnstv tread, to announce ti dings of moment, was heard in the corridor without. It was the porter's son, James Lockwood, who entered with pale and haggard looks. " What news ?" demanded Lady Eleanor.— James turned a piteous glance upon Lady Alice, who, unable to articulate the anxious sentence that trembled on her tongue,sat with wan cheeks and expanded eyes, gazing in a speechless ago ny of inquiry on the messenger. " Sad news, my Lady, sad news for us all : Colehester has fallen, aud butcher work hath followed." " My husband ! my husband !" gasped Ladv Alice. " How fares it with Col. Montfort, James ?" asked Lady Eleanor. " It was scarcely possible for me to hear any thing like certainty, my Lady, but—" "Speak out, we would hear the truth." " I was told, dear ladies, that he was tried by a military commission, and—and—" " He is under sentence of death." " Dear ladies, you know how these trials end." " Ay, with the death-vollev from a file of murderous troops," said Lady Alice, in a voir# hoarse with suppressed feelings ; " I said it would be so." " I heard that at twelve at noon this day was the appointed time for the execution of the brave colonel," whispered James Lockwood to Lady Eleanor. " Order four of the swiftest horses to the post coach," said Lady Eleanor ; " I will ride a race against time for his life " As James Lockwood left the chapel to per form her bidding, a belted horseman in Sir James Balder's liverv entered with an iron bonnd coffer on his shoulder, which he placed before Lady Alice, with these words, " From Colchester," and flinging the key upon the pave ment at her feet, strode from the chapel with a heavy step. A moment more, and the fearful contents of that mysterious coff<>r were disclosed to the mournful gaze of Lady Vlbm. The scarf em broidered by her own hand, and presented by her to Montford on the eve of his first battle. The rosary and cross which lie had fondly tak en from her neck on the morning of tlicir sto len nuptials. His sword, with the true lovo keot still appended which she had attached to its hilt, and, last and saddest of all, those heart-rending tokens of his death, his shirt and ruff deeply stained with blood. " And is it thus—thus—thus!" murmured Lady Alice, as she sat contemplating with an agony too deep—a horror too overwhelming for tears or cries, these silent witnesses of her irreparable loss. " No, Alice, dearest sister, believe it not," cried Lady Eleanor ; " this is, I trust, the malice of James Balders to avenge his slighted nit. Montford was not to die till noon, and ere that time his pardon may lie sealed." "Oh, Never, never! Behold these fatal evi dences that all is over with him !" said Lady Alice, pointing to the ensanguined tokens be fore Iter. " Nay, these prove nothing beyond the fact that he is a prisoner," said Lady Eleanor.— " Alice, dear Alice, there is so strong a feeling within me that he is living, that I will away to Colehester within the hour to plead for his reprieve. Shall we not go together, gentle Alice ?" continued she, taking the damp cold hand that still rested as heavily as if its pulses had ceased to l>eat on the fearful contents of the coffer. "It would he useless now," said Lady Alice, "cruel sister ! last night you might— you might have saved him, and you would not: —uow, when his heart's blood is before mc, you mock uie with hojies that never can he re alized." " Only promise me to be caltn till you see mc again," said Lady Eleanor, as she left the cha pel. In halt an hour's time she was on the roud to Colchester. We w ill not enter into 'the feelings of the fair traveler during her lonely journey to tbe I head quarters of the Parliamentary army _ Hitherto, Lady Eleanor had heard mnch of the horrors of the war ; now, she, for the first time, witnessed traces of its destroying fnry. The beautiful trees, and every share of verdure in the immediate vicinity of Colchester had dis appeared, and circumvallary lines of blackness and barrenness marked the ground recently oc cupied by the besieging army of the Parlia ment ; and when she entered the town, the ruinous state of the houses and churches which had been rent and battered by the fierce bom bardment, and their swart aspect from the sul phurous atmosphere which had so often perva ded those streets from the almost incessant dis charge of artillery and fire-arms, during the latter days of the siege ; and above all. the wan, haggard faces of the few melancholy individu als who were visible, affordodn fearful testimo ny of the sufferings of Colchester and its brave defenders. Lady Eleanor Reagrave and her escort, con sisting of four of her late father's servants in deep mourning, were challenged at the various barriers that had been erected across the streets, bnt the name of General Arncliff, which she pronounced with trembling lips, served a3 a passport for her admittance ; and as her equip age proceeded up the high street towards the custle, where she was informed she should find him, it was with difficulty that she could repress the painful ugitation of her spirit. Hervouth, her beauty, and deep mourning, and the cir cumstances of her being entirely alone, occa sioned a sensation of surprise among the offi cers of the Parliamentary army ; and she had to encounter many a bold scrutiny, mingled with looks of unwelcome admiration, when she quitted her coach and presented herself for ad mittance at the guarded portals of the castle. A mortal shudder came over her as her eye was unconsciously attracted by the dark red stains of blood on the stoues, which denoted the spot where the recent mnrdcr of the gal lant aud unfortunate Lilse and Lucas had been perpetrated. At the same time the chimes of one of the neighboring churches warned her that it was half-pnst eleven o'clock, and the beating of drums in the quadrangle gave no tice that the time was fast approaching for the performance of a similar tragedy with regard to her sisteris husband, if, indeed, he were not at that time numbered with the dead. Nothing but the strong conviction that she must make an energetic effort for the sake of that beloved sister, could have nerved the shrinking heart of Lady Eleanor to proceed under circumstances replete with such terror, aud in a place she felt to be so unsuitable.— At first, the sentinels at the castle portals, as if they guessed the nature of her errand, rude ly repulsed her by crossing their pnrtizans against her entrance, telling her " That it would be impossible to see General Arncliff till the execution of the cavalier Colonel was over." "Then he yet lives, God be thanked, and I am not too late !" exclaimed Lady Eleanor, clasping her hands together, and bursting into an hysterical passion of weeping. The soldiers exchanged looks with each other, as if moved by the emotieu of the fair suppliant. "It is the wife of Colonel Montfort," whis pered one of Lady Eleanor's servants, who had heard that one of his ladies were secretly wed ded to the unfortunate cavalier, and naturally concluded that she, who manifested such an active interest in his fate, must be the bride. The sentinels were evidently touched with pity, yet fearful of the consequences of yield ing to their releutings. Lady Eleanor earnestly renewed her suit. " Whv, look ye, mistress," said one of the men, " we have no ill will towards you or the condemned cavalier ; but you are asking that which may bring us into trouble with our officers, and can he of no use to you or him either." " Oulv let me try 1" cried Lady Eleanor. " Ay, ay,* let her pass !" said the other. " Are you willing to take the consequence ?" asked "his companion. " Yes," replied the other ; " I have a wife of my own, you kuow. l'ass on. my mistress," continued lie to Lady Eleanor, " only you must go aioue." Leaving her servants on the platform with out the castle, Laly Eleanor followed the trooper who undertook to conduct her into the presence of General Arncliff, and with tremb ling steps ascended the broad staircase of that gloomy citadel, within whose walls the sentence of death had so recently been passed on her sister's husband. Nothing but the reflection that her errand was on life and death, could have impelled her forward without a single friend or attendant, to intrude herself upon him whose last words had been an injunction to forget him. Years passed in mutual es trangement and bitterness of spirit had roiled over since Lady Eleanor Seagrave and Rich anl Arncliff had looked upon each other ; and Lady Eleanor felt that it was not the love of sick village youth, to whose existence her smile or frown gave its touc of happiness or misery, whom she was about to meet, but one of the master spirits? of the age—one who had demonstrated to his fellow-men the difference between the aristocracy of station and the aris tocracy of tuleut, had taught both royalty and nobility to feel that Richard Arueliff, the son of the village surgeon of Beechmont. had no less a political existence than the proudest peer of England, lie was alone, seated at a table covered with papers, with all the stern gravity and deportment about him resulting from a habit ot command, and the eonseiousne-s of occupying a high aud important position in the newly constituted government of England, when his musings were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Lady Eleanor Seagrave, v ho, scarcely less to her own consternation than that i of her long-estranged lover, was announced by | the scrjcant of the guard, as " the wife of Col. Lucius Moutford." Her deep mourning, and the extreme agita tion of her appearance, favored tbe i lea ; the color faded from the sun-burned cheek of Arn cliff as his heart collapsed with the intense ago ny of that thought. " Arncliff ! Bicliard Arncliff ! If, indeed, I may still address you by that on re faimitar VOL. XVI. NO. 80. name," said Lady Eleanor, and faltered, for her eye sank beneath the frowning glance with which the Parliamentary General relied tu her imploring looks. How difrerent was the language of those dark expressive eyes. " I never could have loved him if I had a! ways seen him thus!" thought Lady Eleanor, turning away wish answering pride. " Be seated, madam," said General Arncliff, struggling to regain the stern eo'tapusure of laayncr which was one of the characteristicsV his party, and motfoniilg her to ftte a chair at a little distance from his own. " General Arncliff, M Sid Lady Eleanor, " the object of rat present unauthorised IWflhsion is to prefer a petition to you." " I understand you, madam, and can im agine how powerful the motive must be which has procured ine the honor of a visit from— from Lady Eleanor." General Arneiiff left the sentence incomplete. It was evident that he was not disposed to pronounce her name. "Are you then aware, General Arncliff, that I have come to solicit the life of the brave Col. Moutfort ?" " I am not the chief in command here, ma dam. It is to General Fairfax that your suit should be made." " To him who has already remorselessly mur dered the gallant Lisle and Lucas iu co'.d blood ! Hear me, Richard Arneliff—changed as you are, cold, haughty, and unkind though you be, I claim the promise yon once made to me, of rendering me the office of a true friend, if ever I required one at my need. That time is now come, and I charge you by the memo ry of those sweet days wheu the distinctiou of rank and party were not felt by us, that you exert your powerful influence for the preserva tion of the life of the gallant Montfort. God knoweth how earnestly I would have pleaded for you with him, if your cases had been revers ed," she added, drawing her hand across her eyes. Those of Arneliff brightened. " 1 thought that the humbly born Richard Arneliff was no less an object of coutempt to you than to your haughty family ?" said he. " \\ lmt reasons did I ever give you for thinking so ?" asked Lady Eleanor. "Ah ! Elean or, have you forgotteu your cruel language when last we met ?" " Richard Arneliff, I told you then, and I repeat it. that your present perilous exaltation has neither increased the respect or love of a heart like that of Eleanor Seagrave." Yet you come to me as a suppliant, proud ladv." " 1 do. and in the full confidence of not re ceiving a denial." , " You ask that which isnot in ray gift—the life of Lucius Montfort." " I will not be denied to General Arucliff," said Lady Eleanor. "That remains to be proved," returned he ; " however, for your sake the effort shall be made, cost what it may," added he, as he left the room. In less than a quarter of an hour he return ed with two papers in his hand. " This," said he, presenting the first, which was torn in half, to Lndy Eleanor, "this, madam, is the cancel led warrant for your husband's execution The other is an order for his liberation, which the council has granted at my request, and which I have now the satisfaction of pat ting into your hands, lie was severely wounded during the last desperate sally of the besieged, but I trust you will find him able to travel with you to your father's mausioD, if you purpose taking him there.'' "That mansion is now Col. Montfort'sown, in consequence of his marriage with the eider co-heiress of Sengrave." "I thought you had l>een the youiigtst of Lord Scagrave's daughters." " Undoubtedly I am ; but not as you suppose, the wife of Col. Aloutfort. lie is my sister's husband." " And you, Eleanor, you are—" " Still free from every vow, save that which I plighted to my first, my last, my only love, in the moonlight groves of Heeehinout, one sweet midsummer eve, so many years agone now, that he hath perehanee forgotten it," said Lady Eleanor, srnii ug. We will not trespa.s upowottr render's time by recording the rejoinder of Richard Arucliff. Suliiee it to say that the public acknowledg ment of the marriage of Luly Alice Seagrave with the pardoned cnvaiier was in due time followed by a union between Lady Eleanor and the Parliamentary General, through whose iu teression the gallant Colonel had been preserv ed front the fate of his brave companions in arms, Sir Charles Lisle and Sir Charles Lucas. A Qrr.rp. IIEMKHY.—A good lady, who had two children sick with the measles, wrote to * friend for the best remedy. The friend who had just r c.'ived a note from another lady, inquiring tlie way to mike pickles. In the confusion, the lady who had inquired about the pickles, received the remedy for the men slcs, ami the anxious mother of the two ehil dron rend with horror the following :—"Scald the n three or four times in very hot vinegar, and sprinkle them well with salt : in a few dnvs they will be cured." fST" To enjoy to-day stop worrying alout to-morrow. Next week will be just as capa ble of taking core of itself as this one ; and why should it not ?—it will have seven days inorc experience. The intercourse of friendship is a eon cordial for the heart. It beguiles the hour of grief; gently weans the thoughts from the 1 selfishness of sorrow, aud gives the mourner to feel that earth is not a wilderness. A country newspaper says, "Several ' deaths are unavoidably postponed." Wish ! auy quantity ru'ght be served the same vav. BASUH-LVESS.—Bashfulut'BS is not a fault ; it is more a nervous affection than auything | else. Tha over-bashful should mix iu socictv, , and < nitrate an indifference to outward rvui tcam,.