DC DOLLAR PER ANN'JM, INVARIABLY IN AOVANtt.
TOAVANDA :
Satnrban fUoriunn, 19, 1839.
£cltdti> |}otlni.
THE DEPARTED.
h rot* of snowy musliu.
L:eth -he <o pale aud still;
W:th her -null hands meekly folded
Above the heart so chill,
f w.r*, fitcmt !ems of the maiden.
Withering en her peaceful breast;
G eth -he in a!! her beauty,
To ht-r long, unending rest.
Let the father stand beside her.
Pit-ss the lips no more to speak,
the hair from off the forehead,
Pro>s the hard unyielding cheek.
L.t h-a weep, for tears f.vat falling
Wiii iffoni a --weet relief,
Tbfv've a mighty power of light'ning
rhe heart's full w eight of grief.
C rr.e'.h now in all her loneness,
she who bore a mother's part ;
>\ sr may know the grief and anguish
t>: her oversow ing heart.
-he h.th nurtured her from childhood,
■. ud hath loved her all too well;
he: her weep—for tears fast falling,
lose the Svsom's bursting swell.
iibb gather round the children,
bet them took upon her now ;
ia mercy let them linger,
: ga that placid brow.
0: - k upon the casket,
Th V the soul it shrined is fled ;
7 . nd and loving sister,
is numbered with the dead.
; i-: e:'"J her childhood's dwelling
•a r h -he ce'er may enter more ;
" . -wn the little pathway.
. her Levt hare trod of yore.
F._:. : - i.rih. oh I very gently,
7. -he is tut lifeless clay ;
wlatc -Lc'li sleep ia qniet
7 r. - rrcction da v.
§fle ft 1 b fair.
[7: T ~e Cdiatwrr Journal.]
1:1 T T Y ;
OR.
THE BLIND HARPIST.
> " h i very long tiuse ago—tut whoa
railways, when stcam-navigutiou
ey. and the electric telegraph not
>. ■ i o:'—a journey to Cornwall was
a: • table '.sndertakiog ; while the na
: • ts cf that county regarded the
" ; ir: . f the inland population ui
■ ' ■ giers. Fluctuations, bower
' -rite t ..a. ia mining concerns, as
k-.owr. to be in these adventurous
wcrv made. and fortunes .re
. w:.en the latter r.-verse befell Mr.
■ a great mining speculator, attended
y distressing circumstances, he had
.tth av.tni to lea: up a-.a'tist catani
speedily sank beneath the blow, leav
• - e orphan children totally destitute.—
: .. yea;: ja>l .. .. at to leave
• ■ -*• the ihflatnee of
■ - : 8 1'f* at .2 a mercantile house
t r ne at once repaired. His
vO - .. ttretl particularly in lack's
i r*. ition, respectably set
• tT red to receive tlie poor
' tin n us nui - n •
hi ;t family, providing a si ai
t the other. I: was a sad part
t . brother and s.ster : for In-
I a - ... i a vast deal further off than
I •f. ). and faint were the hopes they
■ ' : o 'meeting again in this world.—
: esc three never did meet again;
I V.-. : e ■ dest of the two girls, in pro
* became tlie wifeof a thriving Lon
•t. ~u i died hile their only dangh
'■ -c.vM Ethel Trailer. Harry's
r also became a wife ; but
. a leasetl her relation, u Ito firo
" to- : ve comsctiou, that .-o pretty
yfi -. t have done far better Mary
i| ' - I'.r -> as she ought to be called—
■ .; i in t i:e displeasure occasioned
tr ;1 choice : and not only
I in forgiveness in her own
■t i the same feelings into the
p sband. and even tanght her
I k i an on "the Mordaunts.'*—
x U irry were few aud far between:
|i ringr; though fortunes iu
■ ** •. 1 re not made so quickly as
'|H wore in their own dear native
Jfirs Mr Mordaunt. Ethel's hus
' ' I : s talents to account by
B by dint of utc
B * : support his delicate and
Trl o ■ •' if cot ia affluence. Ethel
B r* usbatui one child, a fair
Ti after herself, whose sweet
- • • - tlon endeared her to both
B. •ad made amends to her rao-
B ... of a sister's countenance and
'• ep election. however, Mrs.
~ -h-'i'ublicpriatstheaanounoe
• v .-giving sister's decease ; she
■ motherless girl, her niece
|| : ' to her bosom. But so de-
B -e rt of Mr. Dan vers.
H v : seif-respect would not
■ " ' family to approach the rich
M ■- Iborm reigned supreme
t i ch : ki of luxury and iudui-
B . a*r.air*r,t. and onfeeltitg. bet
Bi j h :n person and agreeable ia
" ■1: et even kuow where the
Ht> . e found—she made it a
Bt . . r ~ to cut ail suchdisfracefai
B-t " tuore particoiariy as they
H
B- ; f Mrs Danvers, Hairy had
B ,f. ong 'iioess might account
B a-incss, or ike inertness oe-
I . c state ; or. it might be. that
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
with, absence caused forget fulness, and he did
uot care to see the handwriting of the new
generation. Hence the name of "Uncle Har
ry" was seldom mentioued, either by the dash
ing Miss Danvers, or by the quiet pale girl,
Etty Mordannt, whose young life was passed
in tending her now afflicted mother. Ere mid
dle age bad dimmed the lustre of her eyes, or
changed a single dark hair to white, poor Mrs.
Mordaunt lost the use of her limbs through
paralysis, and Etty saw the sunshine of this
world through the haze of a sick room. Yet
had they much to be thankful for ; and a con
tented, happy family they were. They rented
the upper part of a small house in a genteel
street ; ami Mr. Mordauut's pupils were prin
cipally iu the vicinity, with the exception of
some schools in the suburbs. His emolument
was ccrtaiu and regular ; and although he had
frequently complained of a singular weakness
in bis eyes, attended by some pain, uo serious
apprehension of danger had disturbed the draw
ing-master's sereuity of mind. All his leisure
time was devoted to the improvement of Etty's
docile mind ; she learned everything readily,
save drawing—that she could not manage ;
and her father, half in jest, half in earnest,
shook his head, and called it a "deficiency of
intellect," and Etty herself, the gentlest and
most humble-minded of human beings, lament
ed this ' deficiency,' because it vexed her dear
father. But, as if to make amends for the
want she deplored, nature had gifted Etty with
a remarkable fine voice—thriiling, rich, melan
choly. A harp, which was her jjoor mother's
only relic of better days, stood iu one cojner
of their sitting room ; and not only had Etty
learned to accompany her voice on this old
harp very respectably, but Mr. Mordaunt also
was a performer, and what with his brilliant
touch and Etty's sweet warbling, these hum
ble family coucerts were quite delightful.
Mr. Mordaunt had never hitherto consented
to receive pupils at his own home, not liking
this infringement of domestic privacy ; but on
the urgent solicitation of a former pupil, who
had materially benefitted by his instructions,
Mr. Mordaunt waved his objection, and gave
a few lessous, always in the evening, to a young
man whose peculiar circumstances prevented
the reception of a master in his father's dwell
ing. This youth was the second son of Mr.
Rutherford, the senior portner of Mr. Danvers.
Mr. Rutherford was not only a keen man of
business, but so miserly in his habits and pur
suits, that although he had but two motherless
sor.s. and had already amassed an immense
fortune, he grudgtd them all participation iu
the pleasures and luxuries of life, and kept them
chained to the desk fiom morning till night.—
This kind of plodding existence suited well with
the disposition and habits of the eldest brother,
who resembled his father in all rcspeets ; but
Herbert the younger brother, was of a higher
character, and although a dutiful son, aud tol
erably steady and iudustrions, he felt bitterly
the want of a happy home.
At the house of Mr. Danvers. their father's
partner, both young men always fouud a cor
dial welcome ; indeed, it was the first wish of
Mr. Da over's heart to see his only daughter
united to John Rutherford, whose talent for
business and money-making rendered hiai so
very desirable as a partner for life. John had
no objection to the young lady ; she was much
the same to him a< young ladies iu general ;
and he thought it would be a good plan thus
to cement the union of the firm of Rutherford,
Danvers A Co.
Laura Danvers. however, had a strong wiil
of lur own ; and although she would willingly
have changed her name to Rutherford, it was
not as ' Mrs John.' but as ' Mrs. Herbert.'—
But although Herbert Rutherford bestowed
the full meed of admiration on tiie beautiful
Laura, as gallantry demanded, his heart con
tinued untouched, aud his fancy uncaptivated.
There was a run of deep feeling and romance
iu Herbert's nature, concealed beneath a re
served exterior, which required to be aroused
by a far different nature tbaa that of Laura
Danvers. Since he had left school, his taste
for drawing had been uncultivated ; but on
seeing the progress made by his friend under
Mr Mordaunt's auspices, the slumbering taste
revived, and Herbert succeeded in jcrsuading
Mr Mordaunt to graut him a small portion of
time, snatched from the hours of domestic
leisure. Mr. Rutherford, symjotfhiziag in no
intellectual culture or accomplish west, would
have scouted the idea of a drawing-master for
• the grown-np-bov Master Herbert,' and cer
tainly would hare grudged the cost ef lessons.
Hence the permission given to Herbert by Mr.
Mordaunt, of a weekly visit to his private re
treat. where the presence of his wife and daugh
ter was no hindrance to study, their .-ik-nce,
while Etty pursued her occupation of needle
work. remaining on these occasions unbroken.
After the first slight introduction. Herbert in
stinctively felt that no approach to a more fa
miliar footing would be permitted by Mr. Mor
daunt or the ladies ; his presence was a check
to social intercourse ; Etty demurely composed
herself to fulfil an appointed task, like a girl
in school hours ; and Mrs. Mordauut was ab
sorbed with a book. Nevertheless, Etty soon
ascertained that the young stranger was good
liking. ami had a very agreeable voice when
addressing her father : nay, she learned the
color of his eyes, and thought them the must
peuerating and expressive dark eyes in the
world. Herbert also, though busied from the
moment of his entrance with the single purpose
for which he was there, yet found opportunity
to remark the graceful outline ef the ta'l slight
form, ever bending over needle-work ; apd to
detect the fact, that Ettcs eyes were of the
softest, loveliest violet color, shaded by silken
fringes ; and nka: in Etty's long golden ring
let- a kind of sunshine seemed to It ager, though
little of sunshine ercr penetrated the dose at
mosphere she inhaled. Herbert, being a quick
observer, remarked also the old harp ia the
corner, and the flowers tastefully disposed iu
baskets ; he saw. too, bow often Mrs. Mor
daunt's glance was earnestly and anxiously fir
ed ou her daughter, when she seemed to be
engaged with the page open before her.
These drawing lessons had eoutkiaed with
out interraptiou for some weeks, and Herbert
' frequently looked iu s* M" Piter's but
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
out mentioning the progress he was making in
art—and of course the name of Mordaunt was
never mentioned there—when the drawing-mas
ter's increased weakness of sight obliged him
to give up several of his pupils, Herbert atnoug
the number. Vainly the youug man strove to
find some pretext for continuing hia visits at
more distaut intervals ; all his friendly over
tures were received so coldly by Mr. Mordaunt,
who was a proud man in his way, that Her
bert dared not persist, fearing to wound the
feeling he so much respected. He thought of
the sick mother, aud the sweet devoted Etty,
both dependent ou one whose affliction ♦gilt
eventually incapacitate hira from working to
support those dear aud feeble beings. But
Herbert was a stranger, and Mr. Mordaunt
was not a man to encourage or foster the svm
pathy ol whose outward expression only he felt
sure.
It seemed, indeed, as if fate was adverse to
Herbert's wish to be ou more friendly or inti
mate terms with his former master ; for after
an interval of time had elapsed, which to the
young mau appeared considerable, on calling at
the dooroue day to iuquire after the health of
the family, he found they had removed,and no
one could afford him the slightest clue to their
present whereabouts.
" I'm a feared," said the fat lady, " that the
poer gen'iam will get iuto great distress, tho'
he owed me nothiug, and always paid me reg'-
lar as clockwork. But he was too honest to
stay where he couldn't see his way clear, poor
gen'iam ; and I don't much thiuk he'll see his
way clear for long, anyhow ; for his eves fail
ed him utterly afore he went; and that failure
of his blessed eyes was the cause of his leaving
these elegant apartments, because he were
obleeged to give up his poopils. And I don't
know what they will do, that I don't ; for
Missis Mordaunt was helpless, aud Miss Etty
just like one of these lilies she were so fond of
nursing—easily broke down, I should say, by
au angry wind. Howsumever, I'm very sorry
for them ; but we've all troubles of our ewu,
aud I've mv share, too, sir, though you haven't
seen so maay years by half as I have.
Herbert sighed as he turned away from the
quiet street, after making several fruitless in
quiries concerniug the object of his interest.—
Sight failed, and pupilsgiven up !—what would
become of them ? Where had the poor family
gone to hide their distress from the gaze of the
world? That sweet, gentle, loving young girl—
that pale, sinking mother—the silent, uncom
plaining father and husband, whose every
glance towards those dependent creatures be
spoke deep affection and tenderness ? Oh, it
was dcplorabie ; and Herbert determined to
persevere in his search, and to assist them
as far as he was able, for Mr. Mordauut
must permit Mm to be a friend now. But the
former pupils, of whom Herbert knew sufficient
to hazard inquiries, could give him no intelli
gence of Mr. Mordannt's movements ; they on
ly knew his loss of sight bad deprived them of
aa able master; and thev coaccrued themselves
no more about the matter, except by saying
that it was a heavy calamity to befall so good
and industrious a man
For many months, Herbert Rutherford had
visited at the house of Mr. Danvers more rarely
than of yore: Miss Danvers smilingly upbraid
ing him for his absence, but welcoming him
charmingly when he came. Her father had
heard from Uncle Harry, who had returned to
England with au enormous fortune, and who
was coming to visit them, after the chagrin and
disappointment be had experienced in Corn wall,
from fiuding all his friends and relations dis
persed or dead.
" I understood or imagined," said Herbert,
" that you were Mr. Trailer's only near living
relative. Miss Danvers V
Miss Danvers blushed scarlet at this simple
remark, so innocently made by the speaker,and
replied in some confusion : " Oh, I believe we
have relatious who come from Cornwall ; but I
suppose they are dead or abroad, as we know
nothing of them But I've always heard Uncle
Harry was a true Cornishman in his Kval at
tachments ; but I hope we may succeed in re
conciling him to remain among us, poor lonely
o!d man I"
" JVer lonely old man !" thought Herbert,
with a -d smil# ; " riih lonely old man,
or he would not Ik: welcome here 1"
John Rutherford's attentions to the Uanti
fal Miss Dauvers had become more marked
and assiduous since Uncle Harry's arrival in
his native land. Miss Dancers was the nabob"*
uearest. cay. probably, his only living known
relative, and it was high time to secure the
hand of his niece. Bat John was prudent.and
liked to feel his way, until the time seemed
rije for the experiment ; so he contented him
self by paying hiss devoirs attentively to the la
dy of his lore, and by redoubled enemy and
perseverance in business, to win the favor and
approval of Mr. Panver? Herbert, on the
contrary, had been absent and indolent of late
—careless about ledgers and incorrect in cal
culations of importance. The image of the
yoosg sweet girl and her suffering mother ab
solutely haunted him ; what could have become
of them whea the bread-winner was struck
down ? Etty's peusire loveliness had made,
indeed, a deep and lasting impression on the
young man's fancy : and those evenings de
votion to the drawing-lessons—although no
words were spoken between them—were re
called as the most cherished memories of his
heart.
Uncle Harry was received by Mr. Danvers
ami Laura with the empress-meet due to a ba
chelor Indian relative with lace of rupees at
his disposal : but Uacie Harry was fidgety and
ill at ease, and almost his first question was
about poor Ethel. He had been to their na
tive place place in the hope of finding her ;
and he cocld scarcely believe it possible that
Mr. Danvers and Laura knew not where she
was. Tbey spoke of disgrace and vexation,
and hinted* their certainty that Mrs. Marxians!
mast be dead ; or DO doubt, if otherwise, they
would have been applied to long ago. Poor
relations who had behaved shamefully always
found out rich ones, and never ceased pestering
theiu with begcing-letters
** I think rem mar rest satisfied. Unek Har
-Ir* ~ ia'i Mi-i Panrer- " that c*y "'e UKwVt"-
" REGARDLESS OP DENUNCIATION FRO* ANT QUARTER."
sister is no more ; for, depend upon it, if she
had left children, or had herself lived (for of
course they were poor,) we should have heard
from them quickly enough."
But Uncle Harry did not rest satisfied even
with this lucid explanation giveu by his beauti
ful uiece ; and, moreover, the sallow but heal
thy nabob quietly informed Mr. DaitTers, that
he thought it would be as well to insert an ad
vertisement iu a leading paper, iu order to dis
cover poor Ethel, either dead or alive. It was
monstrous, suggested Mr. Danvers, absolutely
monstrous, to make the thing so public ; but
remonstrance was vaiu, for Uncle Ilarrv was
obstinate, and might not be offended with im
punity ; so the utmost Mr. Danvers or Laura
could effect, was to persuade him to wait for a
few days, when, mcautime, private inquiries
should be set on foot.
Mr. Trailer was iu a hurry to return to Cora
wall ; he had determined on purchasing an es
tate there, and settling down for the remain
der of his days. He detested London, and
seemed quite proof against all the blandish
ments lavished on hiin by the beautiful Laura.
He did not say how unnatural he thought them
nil, for deserting poor Ethel, but he looked and
acted it ; and Miss Dauvcrs could scarcely con
ceal her spite and indignation—her only hope
being in the belief that Mrs. Mordaunt had
really passed away from the face of the earth.
But, worse than all, this tiresome, fidgety Un
cle Harry had spoken of the poor Mordauuts
before Herbert ; and Herbert had started aud
blnshed, and seemed so confused and interest
ed in the subject, that Miss Dauvcrs attribu
ted the start to surprise—for she well remem
bered having led Herbert to suppose that no
very near relations existed to share Mr. Tra
iler's affections or money. Yet Miss Dan vers
well knew that Herbert Rutherford was no
mercenary, and cared little for wealth or its
allurements ; and she was puzzled as to what
the stcpng interest was attributable which Her
bert displayed concerning these " odious peo
ple."' Mr. Traher seemed more pleased with
the youug man than with any one or anything
in Mr. Danver's house ; and the avowal which
Herbert made to him. as they were walking
out together, of his own acquaiutance with the
Mordauuts, more closely eemeuted the bond ol
union between them. Herbert dwelt on Mr.
Mordaunt's excellent qualities and industry ;
he spoke of Mrs. Mordaunt ; and the tears
stood in Uucle Harry's eyes as he murmured :
" Boor Ethel, poor thing !" But when Her
bert attempted to describe the fair girl, who
had been as a bright angel in that humble
room, then the youth broke down in confusion;
and Mr. Traher, with a long piercing look at
his companion, exclaimed " Humph I" How
ever, both gentlemen agreed that no time
ought to be lost, and that other means failing,
the advertisement should be inserted forthwith ;
" for they must be in destitution," sighed Her
bert, •' for I know they depend entirely on Mr.
Mordaunt's exertions for support. God grant
we may soon find them !"
Oa the evening of that very day. the 'anal
ly party—namely, Mr. I>anvers, Laura, Un
cle Harry, and John Rutherford, who had
joined them at dinner—were assembled in the
drawing-room, at Mr. Danvers, and it being
early summer and warm weather, the balcony
windows wen- C|en, while the sweet scented
flowers outside shaded the interior from ob
servation. The room was brilliantly lit with
wax-tapers, and the soft moonlight streamed
down on the dowering shrubs and exotics, and
on the broad airy street which led into a mag
nificant square. John Rutherford was just
a?kimr Miss 1 tanvers to favor them with some
music, which John cared for no more than
he did tor the Paradise Lost, when frum the
street beneath arose a strain of song, preluded
by a few simple chords ou the harp, which ar
rested the attention of Uncle Harry, who ex
claimed " Hush ! what a thrilling voice ?"and
with finger upraised and quiet steps, he crept
towards the balcony, from whence, however,
he could not obtain a view of the performers,
on account of the leafy screen which interven
ed. Miss Daavers followed him and she also
stood entranced, for the wanderiug minstrels
wore of no common order—that was clear
from tlie masterly harp accompaniment, and
the simple pathos, clear and brilliant, of the
young voice which rose on the evening air,
31.d entered that luxurious apartment wafted
with the odors of the flowers. The song end
ed. Uncle Harry took his purse to reward
itinerants, when John Rutherford remarked,
that •" these kind >f people must realize a vast
deal of money in the streets ; and. fur kis part.
he considered it wn- giving encouragement to
vagrants to give t.km anything"—Or to true
anybody anything." gruffly muttered Uncle
Harry, crushing in among the Sower -lands,
in the tain hope of reaching the balustrade,
and throwing a handful of silver to the poor
wanderers below. But ere he could manage
to do this, another ha.-j-prelude. of a wild and
mournful character, hashed them all into si
lence ; and as the voice again swelled into the
full burst of song, he trembled : and so un
controllably agitated did he become as the
song proceeded, that Mr. Daavers, fearing he
was ill, asked what was the matter in a toae of
great alarm.
•• Hush T said Mr Trmher—hash !* and o
peremptorily was the word repeated, that Mr.
Pan vers retreated, looking somewhat offended.
His visitor, however, was far too engrossed to
remark this ; ami when the sweet voice ceas
rd. and the harp music died away. Uncle Har
ry exclaimed, in a voice choked by emotion :
" •* I haven't heard that song since I was a
boy. It is a Cornish ballad, which poor Eth
el used to warble . aad I most go tiowa tod
give these people something for the painful
pleasure they have afforded me. But, hark !
they begin again " And after a brief space,
I"ucie Harry cried, in a state of the utmost
excitement: ' This is st rauge I—another old
air which I'm sure only Cornishers can know.
It was our mother's favorite. I must see who
these poor folks are."
Miss Daavers followed the impatient nabob
down stairs, aad placing her hood on his arm,
said " Yea must not go out, dear ancle ; you
•nay take cold in the evwng ar will
bit- 'V harp and im 'he and
turning to a domestic, she gave the order.
The gorgeously liveried servant soon return
ed followed by two persons—one, a man, bear
ing an old harp, who was led by his compan
ion, a female, whose faca was not distinguish
able, from the slouched bonnet which over
shadowed it. The mau was blind, middle ag
ed, bat prematurely care worn, and with sil
vered hair ; yet there was a resignation and
touching benevolence in his countenance, and
a demeanor which so plainly bespoke the gen
tleman, despite his shabby attire, that Uncle
Harry felt quite abashed in addressing him,
and turned to the muffled female in an apolo
getical manner when he tendered the silver
coins. But Miss Danvers had uo uch delica
cy ; and she addressed the singer saying :
" Thi3 gentleman wishes to hear the songs re
peated—the two last. They are Cornisli mel
odies, he thinks ; and he wishes to know where
you learned them."
There was a silence, which was broken by
the harpist whispering to his companion—
" You may tell where you learned them, my
dear."
The timid form beside the blind man seem
ed to shrink nearer to his side, as she said, in
a low, almost inaudible voice—"They are Cor
nish airs, ma'am, and I learned them from my
mother."
"Is your mother Cornish, then V bluntly
asked Mr. Traher, as he vainly essayed togain
a l>eci of the face hidden beneath the slouch
ed bonnet.
" Yes, sir," murmured the sweet voice again ;
and again there was a silence.
" I'm a native of Cornwall myself," at last
blotted out Unele Harry ; " and one of those
songs you sang so beautifully was a favorite of
my mother's ; and it's an odd coincidence.—
Be so kind as to siug it again."
The voice and the harp were more enchanting
in the hall than in the open air, and Mr. Tra
her almost sobbed with emotion a3 he listened.
" Thank you, thank, my good frieuds !" he
exclaimed, j>rossiug to the blind luan's side,
and placing in his hand a glittering coin :
" you mnst come here again before I go, for
this is a treat indeed. I haven't heard that
song for so many, many years. I'oor Ethel !"
he sighed, half speaking to himself: but the
words had reached the ears of the strangers,
and they caused the old man to move forward
involuntarily a step or two, as if listening to
hear more. But Mr. Traher was far away
with memories of the past ; and the harpist
feariug to intrude, made a low bow, and utter
ed tbauks—thanks o impressive, and so un
like a common itinerant, that Miss Dar.vers
felt convinced he was not what he appeared.
" Come, Ethel, my love !" said the blind
man, as he took the female's hand, advancing
to the hall-door, the liveried lackey condescen
ding to carry out the old harp.
" Ethel !" cried Uncle Hariy, placing hun
self before the retreating pair—" are yen Eth
el, too ? And pray, what's your other name,
aud are you this worthy blind gentleman's
wife or daughter V
The female was silent, and evidently alarm
ed by this abrupt address, keeping tight hold
of her companion's hand.
Again the bfiud man spoke. "Thb is my
dear imd only child, sir," he said ; " and I do
not know why we should be ashamed of men
tioning our names to one wh has so bounti
fully rewarded our humble efforts. My name,
sir, is Mordaunt ; and my daughter is called
Ethel, after her dear mother."
" 0 merciful I'rovidence !" cried Mr. Tra
her ; " and is her mother living T
" Yes, sir," rather coldly replied the har
pist. still retreating towards the door, aud not
understanding this unusual interest evinced by
a stranger.
" Poor Ethel! poor Ethel !" sobbed Uncle
Harry, no* quite unmanned, and. without
ceremony, clasping the astonished harpist's
hand, and arresting Lis progress. "IHd yon
never hear her speak of Harry—her brother
Harry ? I'm he. Mordaunt ! and I was go
ing to advertise fur yuu to-morrow ; and new
let me look at my niece ar.d he pulled away
the slouched bonnet, and a shower of goideu
ringlets fell down the pale girl's shoulders ;
and Uncie Harry clasped her in Lis arms, cry
ing : " "Tis poor Ethel herself ; why is sLe
not here P
" Here V said Mr. Murdaunt. "Alts!—
she is alive tn us but dead to the world.'"—
And then, in a few words, draw-rig the blind
man aside. Mr. Traher heard the lamentable
tale of distress unfolded.
Miss D.mvtrs had vanished : she would cot
stay to witness so terrible a before
the servants. A wandering bcllad-siager her
cousin 1 Oh, it was disgusting—it was sot to
be endured.
Unde Harry found j-resemly that i! was
time for him to thick of a home elsewhere ;
aad all his arrangements were zealously
by Herbert Rutherford. So. bidding farewell
to Mr. Paavers and I.aara, he soon returned
to his beloved native country, accompanied by
the poor McrdaunU : nor was the oM harp
left behind. Their troubles were over—so
they declared, with deeply grateful hearts.—
It is true, one was strkken with paralysis,
aod cne was blind ; bat what of that ?
in their utmost desolation, God had heard
their prayer*, nor '.eft tbeai to perish.
Mr. Tmher casually meatowed to old Ruth
erford his intention to give his niece K*ty a
handsome portion, provided she rttarried to
please h n ; ami when Herbert -ismsfied bis
desire to run down into Cornwall to visit Mr.
Traher. woo had given him a hearty invita
tion, Mr. Rutherford offered DO objection to
the plan. ,
It was sometime pre Etij could be induced
to leave her dear jwreMs. even to Uncle Har
ry's tender care ; but oa Herbert's promise of
a long annual sppxn with them, he at length
succeeded in carrying off his fair bride. The
young couple resided near the metropolis ;
bat " Mrs. John Rutherford'" never would con
sent to call oa Mrs. Herbert Rutherford"
nor to own the relationship between them ;
for soon after Herbert's marriage with Ethel
Mordust, Miss Dancers became the wife of
Jobs, bar constant twain Bat as ilw afiana
f'cs tot dtstorb "he e'en teocr cf 'he ?cir-
VOL. XVI. —XO. 45.
ishing business system pursued by Rather -
ford, Ranters aud Rutherford, nor ruffle the
equanimity of Herbert and Etty, no ou
thought it worth while to remonstrate with
the proud and silly dame.
Uoclc Harry and the blind man lived ami
cably together, long after poor Ethel had gone
peacefully down to the grave. The old harp
is preserved as a precious relic by Herbert's
children ; and he always declares the most
fortunate day of his life to be that on which
he commenced the memorable drawing lessons.
TUK EonvsroNE LIOHT HOCSE.— The care
of this iiD{>ortant beacon is committed to four
men ; two of them take charge of it by torus,
aud are relieved every six weeks. But as it
often happens, especially in stormy weather,
that boats cannot touch at the Eddystoae for
many months, a proper quality of salt provi
sions is always laid up, as in a ship for a long
voyage. In high winds 3ueh a briny atmos
phere surrounds this gloomy solitude from the
dashing of waves, that a man exposed to it
could not draw his breath. At these dread
ful intervals the two forlorn inhabitants keep
close quarters, and are obliged to live in dark
ness and stendi, listening to the howling
storm, excluded in every emergency from the
least hope of assistance, and without any earth
ly company bat what is administered from
the confidence in the strength of the building
iu which they are immured. Once, on reliev
ing tbig forlorn guard, one of the men was
fonud dead, his companion choosing rather to
•hut himself up with a putrifying carcass, than,
by throwing it into the sea to iucur the suspi
cion of murder.
In fine weather these wretched beings scram
ble a little about the rocks when the tide ebbs,
and amuse themselves by fibbing, which is the
only employment they can have, except that
of trimming their nightly fires. Such total
inactions, anl entire seclusion from all the joys
and aids of society, can only be endured by
great religious philosophy, which we cannot
imagine they feel ; or by great stupidity, which
in pity we must suppose they ]K>ssess. Yet
this wretched communication is to small, we
are assured it has sometimes been a scene of
misanthropy. Instead of suffering the recol
lection of these distresses and dangers in which
each is deserted by all but one, to endear that
one to him, we are informed the humors of
each were so soured they preyed both on them
selves and on each other. If one sat above,
the other wa* commonly found below. Their
meals, too, were solitary ; each, like a brute,
growling ov-r his food alone. The emolument
of this arduous post is twenty pounds a year,
and provision while on duty. The house to
live in may be fairly thrown into the bargain.
The whole together is, perhaps, one of the
least eligible places of preferment in Britain.
ASECOCT* or FRAVKMK —On one occasion
while I>r. Franklin was in the Legislature of
Pennsylvania, he was busily engaged ia some
matter ju>t as the ehaplaiu was about to pray.
preacher waited for the doetor to cease
his attention to the object of his pur-uit and
attend to h'm, but finally the preacher spoke
and said. " If the Hon. Philosopher will giro
his attention wo will pray." Franklin, with
out raising his head replied, " Pray array f*
DERIVATION *F THE WVTD Bcv-raut —ln the
olden time, fires usr-d to he made ia the streets
of cities and towns on festive occasions,around
which tables were set out with sweet-bread and
good drink. Generally these occ&sons were
seized upon to reconcile difference among
neighbors, who were brought to sit together
at these table* in amity, where before there
hud beca controversy ; and Leace these fires
were called gc*xi fir-.s. or boa-fires, on account
of the good accomplished at tLeaa.
HOWE :T SCT FANCIFUL.—I W&R.dered into
de depths of de forest, say? Sambo, and La
tare wis a* beautiful as a lady gwine to do
widdm. l)c lea# glistened on de maple tree,
like new quarter dollars in de missionary box.
de sua ihined as brilliant and nature looked
so gay as n bock rabbit in a parsh y tranien,
and do little bell round de oic sheep's neck
tinkle softlv In Je distance.
THE BEST Jcoor.— A Judge and A lawyer
were conTersn; about the doctrine of trans
, migration of the *onls of men into animals.
•' Now,** said the Judge. *' suppose you and
I were turned into a bone and an as*, which
would you prefer to be V
* The ass, to lie sure." replied the lawyer.
*' Why ?** asked the Judge,
j " Because," the reply " I hare heari
I of an ass Utmg Joig, but of a horse never."
tsf An old gentleman once said, ia speak
ing of the bad consequences of d=*parity of
fortune—especially on the wife's side in mar
riage. that when he married, he had twenty
cents, and his wife twenty five—and that eh®
was throwing oat that extra five cents to hits,
trcr afterwards.
THE BEST WlT.— Jt%*y —Well, Annie, he*
did yoo get aloag with that stupid foo! of a
loier of \-wirs? Did you succeed ia getting
rid of him ?
Aanir—Oh, yes! I got rid of him very
easily. I married him. aid have to lover now.
'Spoken in a modest manner.,
haf* A person aked his phyocan if tobac
co was injurious te the brain. " No." repEed
be, " for no person who has any brains use it.
A correspondent, in raent.o . rg the
wreck of a vessel, rejoices that " all the crew
were saved except Una hogsheads o: tobacco. *
" Among other blessing* *" said Dr.
Franklin. ** a man should thank God for h:s
vanity. becaase it makes him fees happy."
!Ufa a fy> fhort to spend h 2+l