OS DOLLAR PER ANNUM, INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOAVANDA:
Zliarsiiiin lUortiino, YUnnb 19. 1857.
Sflcdfb poetrn.
A FIRESIDE SONG.
BY CALDKK CAMPBELL.
Give Hope place Reside onr evonine-fire ;
'Twill add a wanner relish to his glow.
And Bring oat pictures from the .smouldering pyre
Which darkness and despair can never show :
'Twill breathe of Might that ushers the glad Day,
Aud the white Winter followed by green May.
'Twill draw forth images of suns that rise
Front the dark !>osom of the passing niist—
Of smiling glances drying tearful eyes.
And wau cheeks into roses new health-klst;
Hope is not always false, wlute'er men say,
Siuce after Winter fuUoivs green May. -
Old is the night, but colder is the street—
Im thankful for the fagot in the grate ;
And dwell on every mercy thou dost meet.
Blessing the hand which spares the griefs that wait, !
On many a sufferer, iu whose sterner way
I.lagers the Winter longer than the May.
Thank God for this, that Hope hath come from Him, j
And nestles in oar hearts, like birds that find
"Neath some kind thatch shelter from hail storm grim. 1
Ynd food where stacks of corn keep oft" the wind :
Stay, heavenly Hope ! and teach us well to pray
That Winter may be followed by green May 1
Sf 1 f fIC b Calf.
i mmmi Sj|
OR, FEMALE INFLUENCE.
BY CATHERINE M. T HOW BRIDGE.
Iu a cool airy chamber of a neat country
telling, sat a drooping invalid, reclining fetb
, almost helplessly, in a large easy chair.—
the beautiful hectic on the otherwise pallid
Treks, proclaimed the victim of cousumptiou.
0 a low ottoman at her feet, was seated a
tai.g girl of ten summers. They were sis
>. The elder had beeu not only a sister, but
. m j mother to the younger, who retained no
'Taction of the tender parent iu whose arms
r infancy was cradled. Vet had she scarce
inissad a mother's care, so faithfully had
-.at elder sister performed to her a mother's ,
;.art.
Hut now she too was smitten down, aud
ci! did Ellen Hastings know that they soon
part ; for her sister Clara had uot cou
j'.ai from her the certainty of the painful
- :i which must take place. She had
• spokcu to Ellen of her own departure,
.ii;a'y as she would of an anticipated jour-
Iu this way the fair young girl had bc
c familiar with the idea, aud thoughts of
invested with such terror, had beeu rob
i.aif their gloom, wheu she saw how calmly,
" ;-'.:ngly and confidingly her sister could eu- j
the dark valley. If this calmness was ev- ;
• n danger of being ruffled, it was when Cla
"light of her darling Ellen, who clung to
: vii.glv as the tender vine clings to the
inn support about which it twines.
S . Ellen had taken her seat upon the ot
a:. no word had broken the sileuee, but in
ging glances bad spoken volumes of
•ro.iv. affection aud teuder regret. The face ;
e invalid was expressive of a yearning j
'triass, not unmixed with a shade of anxi-,
'j. as her thoughts were busy with the com- (
-• M jiaration. The countenance of Ellen ex
-nJ intense afTectioirand sorrowful appre- j
• GOD. At last the silence was broken by j
G . who spoke as if all that had been pass
- . the mind of each had found utterance
i and she was but continuing the sub
' a which they had beeu commuuiug.
Kar Eilen, I want you t/un to remember |
t'.ings," .-he said.
•' v much was expressed by that siuple ,
To Ellen it sjtoke of the time wheu the
n so dreaded should actually have ta- j
and she would no longer be shelter- ,
.1 blest by the tender, watchful love that
-• and for her from the hour wheu the cold
• all heavily upon the coffin of her mother, j
•' ' a brief moment the poor girl hid her j
a Ur sister's lap. and a couvulsive sob, ,
: r-sscd broke from her. But soon she
! hor head, aud trie*! to say calmly—
at \ t dear s btcr, that vou wish me
-Mirer.'"
'Tto i
iiings. mv love. And yet both can
in four short words, so that yon '
" 8-ways remember thein. I want yon to '
-me that vou will ever strive, l>oth to 1
-" 1 and to do good. Only four words— 1
? "1 Do goodf But could I know that [
" Y express would 1m? embodied iu your
! tV. how calmly and hopefully could I
you, for I should be sure that your feet
Lever stray into any devious path of sin j
- r Will vou try to remember these four
■ " b and" practice the two maxims com- 1
iii tlem V
! v ,ip ar replied Ellen. "I know '
drive to bo good, but bow can a little
*•> me do good
a a;a:-.v wiy>, mv love, if with sweet hu-
J'• truthful earnestness yon strive to do
* r t:! you of one way. Ever cherish
-r art true and riirlit sentiments, and
2 ; rover occasion occurs for giving ut
io :r> s ieh sentiments, never shrink from
1 -~' Ir. this way you will always exert
t r . v 'r.iaence upon those with whom you
Perhaps at another time I may tell
•-•.her wars in which even a little girl,
► '- 7 io •'.>,t " " '
L ;•' other time never earae. A violent
f. -,'b . g was induced by the exertion of
d After it was over, the invalid was
. • exhausted, to her couch, from which
'■ rv.se again It was the last time
L *'*' left alone with her sister. One obl
r more experienced now constantly took
w- • * vTh .-h she had so fmjneutly oceopi-
L After tbi*. every attempt to con- ,
"tressed the fast failing iuvalid, aud |
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
these proved to be her dying words, her part
ing counsel to the stetef she bad so fondly
cherished. As such, they made a deep and in
dellible impression upon Ellen, who had always
listened to her sister as to au oracle of wis
dom, and who now treasured in the depths of
her heart these her last words.
Ellen felt very sad and louely after the
death and burial of her sister. She took it
so much to heart, that she grew thin and pale,
and looked only like the shadow of her former
self. Ilcr father watched this state of things
with much anxiety ; for Ellen was now the
only treasure left him, and be was disposed to
guard her with the tenderest care. He resolved
to change the scene, and divert her thoughts
from the deep grief which Was preying npou
both mind and body, by sending her to spend
a few weeks at the*house of a friend, who had
a large family of children, some younger and
some older thau Ellen. Mr. Hastings felt sure
that the society which his daughter would fiud
there, would soon dissipate the saducss which
oppressed the mind of the bereaved girl.
When Ellen arrived at Mr. Herbert's she
found there a lively group; for to his own
large family were added, besides Ellen nasL
ings, the sou and daughter of a distaut rela
tive
At first, Ellen felt little disposed to join iu
the mirth and gaiety which always reigns
where such a group of children, buoyant with
health aud happiness, are collected. But she
was naturally of a sociable and lively disposi
tion. and though her mirthfulness was temper
ed and subdued by the remembrance of her re
membrance of her recent affliction, she was
soon ready to join cheerfully, and with a keen
relish, in the occupations aud amusements of
her young companions.
Ellen soon made friends with all, not except
ing Arthur and Lucv Donning, who like her
self were enests at the hospitable mansion of
Mr. Herbert. Arthur Dunning possessed a
fine How of spirits and a ready invention,
which added much to the enjoyments of the
juvenile circle of which he was for the time
being a member. If a new feature added zest
to an old and almost worn out form of recrea
tion, Arthur was usually the inventor of it.—
Or if a ready sally of wit threw the circle in
to a convulsive fit of laughter, he was the au
thor of it. But it must also be confessed that
he was somewhat reckless and mischievous.—
If at times, he greatly promoted the enjoyment
of his companions, he, at other times, greatlv
marred it by the mischievous tricks, which lie
delighted to plav upon them. At last, the ob
servation was frequently made that Arthur
Dunning would be a first rate fellow, if he was
not so full of his tricks.
One day, when Ellen entered the nurserv,
she found it occupied only by little Mary Her
bert, who was very busy in erecting what she
considered a very imposing edifice with the
materials furnished by a box of building block .
She was putting the finishing tuu.li on the
work when Eilen entered. Mary turned round,
and seeing who it was she exclaimed triumph
antly.
"There, Ellen, i-n't that first-rate ?"
"It is very well done," said Ellen. What
is it'!—a church ?"
" A church ! —no !" said Mary, almost in
dignantly. "Don't you see it is a great facto
ry ? It looks almost just like those Sarah and
I saw last week, when father took us to C.—
I w ill go and ask Sarah if it don't. Where is
she ? do you kuow
" She was iu the garden when I came in."
"I wiil go and a.-k her to come here. Won't
you stay here till I come back, and sec what
she says to it ?"
Ellen good humoredly promised to comply
with this request.
Scarcely hud Mary left the room when Ar
thur entered it. As soon as he saw the pile
of blocks which Mary had denominated a fao
torv, he turned to Ellen, and said,
" Who did that !"
" I.ittle Mary did it, she calls it a factory."
" A factory ! ha ! I will just tumble it
over and see what Mary will say when she
gets back."
Arthur advanced towards the miniature fac
tory to execute his intention. But Eiica
sprang towards him, and before his fi>ot had
touchtd it, laid her hand on his arm, saying
earnestly and pleadingly,
" Arthur, I wouldn't do it."
Arthur arrested by the earnestness of her
manner, stopped short, and looking her in the ,
face, said,
" Why not, Ellen T
For a moment, Ellen hesitated what reply |
to make. But as she stood there, uncertain
what answer to give to this interrogation, a '
scene was suddenly presented to her mind,
which almost dimmed her eyes with tears. — i
She was not in the nursery at Mr. Herbert's j
but she was in that sacred well-remembered
chamber, seated on a low ottomau by the side
of her sister. She heard her say, " Ever c'uer
i.-h ih your own heart true and right sentiments,
and when a proper occasion occurs for giving
utterance to such sentiments, never shrink
from doing so." The scene faded, and the re
ality was once more before her. Arthur Dun
ning was by her side, and he had asked her
why he should not overturn the playhouse
reared by Mary Herbert. Was not this a
proper occasion for uttering the true and right
sentiuieuts she felt iu relatiou to such deeds ?
surefv it rnnst be so. and she would not hesi
tate, though perhaps the high-spirited and
reckless Arthur would only laugh at her. The
tender recolection which had been called up,
probablv added persuasiveness to her manner,
as with "her hand still resting upon Arthur's
arm. she replied.
"Oh because Mary thinks so much of it,
aud of showing it to Sarah. It will make her
verv unhappy if it knocked down before Sarah
sees it ; and vou know it is always a sad thing
to make others tin happy. It is so much bet
ter to try to make them happy "
Arthur looked earnestly at Ellen ; but he
did not langh at her. as she almost feared he
would On the contrary, he said in a subdued
voice ;
" I know yon are right, Ellen : I will not
kuock it ilowu."
PUBLISHED EVE[IV THURSDAY AT I'OWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
Ellen's words and manner made a much
deeper impression than she was aware of.—
After this, wheu Arthur was about to perpe
trate any inisehievous trick, it seemed to him
as if a gentle band was laid on his arm, and a
soft, persuasive voice said, "Arthur, I wonld
j n't do it and lie could not do it. The con
sequence was, his young companions soon be
gan to wonder how it happened that Arthur
had so suddenly abandoned all his late tricks,
and become so agreeable a companion. But
no oue, not even Ellen, guessed the cause.—
She was too modest to attribute an energy so
potent to the few words she had spoken in the
nursery.
j Six years passed away, and FAlen Hastings
was no longer a child, for she bad bloomed in
to womanhood, having reached the golden age
of the novelist, sweet sixteen. Hut during
these winged years, which in their Bight had
borne her so rapidly to this point,she had nev
er forgotten her beloved sister Clara or her
parting counsel. To be good and to do good,
i had been her constant and noble aim. Stich
an aim could not fail to give a moral elevation
and dignity to her whole character, which
greatly enhanced those natural charms with
which she had been endowed in uo stinted
measure.
When Ellen was sixteen, it so chanced that
she spent a few days with a friend who resided
in a city where was located a flourishing col
lege. One evening, during this visit, she was
introduced to a small and select circle of inti
mate friends, among whom were two or three
of the college students. One of these was no
other than her old playmate at Mr. Herbert's,
Arthur Dunning. But .Ellen did not recog
uize him. They had not met since that time,
and as that meeting had made no particular
impression upon her mind, it was almost for
gotten. When introduced to Mr. Dunning, no
suspicion of ever having met him betore cross
ed her tnind.
Not so, however, with Arthur Dunning.—
The impression made upon his mind had l>een
far deeper, and therefore uot so easily effaced
by the lapse of years. As soou as Klieu was
introduced to him as Miss Hastings, he was
struck with something familiar in the glance
which met his, and iu the toues of the voice
which fell on his ear. They seemed to have a
strange connection with some scene of the past,
though all was dim and indistinct, lie could
not recall where he had met that glance and
heard those tones.
T or half an hour after this introduction, Ar
thur Dunning puzzled and wearied hiiuself by
chasing this phantom of the past. Sometimes
it would almost assume a tangible shape and
he would think he was about to seize it, when
it wonld elude his mental grasp, seeming as
airy and intangible as ever.
At length, oue of the party with whom Nliss
Hastings was on terms of familiar intimacy, ad
dressed her as " Ellen, my dear " In a mo
ment the misty veil was r-moved from the inind
of Arthur Dunning, aud he mentally exelaim-
C i,
| " I have it, I have it now ;it is Ellen II is
tings," and internally the whole scene iu the
nursery at Mr Herbert's came up before him.
i"lt is the very same. I was sun* that her
countenance and the toues of her voice were
strangely familiar, and equally sure that they
were connected with some cherished recollec
tion of the past. Ah ! that fortnight at Mr
llcrliert's—how well do I recollect it ! Ellen
Hastings was my good angel then."
Towards the close of the evening. Arthur
contrived to get by the side of Ellen, aud also
to draw her into a free and animated conver
; satiou. lie was aliout to call to her mind
their former acquaintance, when the attention
of both was arrested by the conversation of
the other members of the little group.
Certain college regulations which were re
garded by many of the students as very un
reasonable, onerous and arbitrary, had occa
sioned a dissatisfaction so general, that a plan
was forming and being openly discussed, to
resist them The disaffected students imagin
ed they were so strong in numbers and influ-
I litre, that if they combined in this movement,
they should overawe the college officers, aud
compel them to modify the odious regulations.
In this way they thought to escape the dis
grace usually resulting from rebellion against
! college laws.
j Tiie plan hail been boldly discussed by a
portion of the students for some time, aud
: those present did uot hesitate to bring it fur
! ward and combat its reusability, in the select
circle there gathered, Arthur Dunning, who
I was naturally somewhat impatient of restraint,
had beeu inclined to sympathize with the dis
affected party, and had serious thoughts of
joining them, should their plan be carried into
i execution.
The subject was discussed with much ani
mation and earnestness by those present, and
a variety of opinious w ere expressed in rela
tion to it. After listening to the rest for some
time. Arthur suddenly turned to Ellen, and
| said.
" What do you think of this measure, Miss
Hastings ? Would you advise us to join the
party who are about to adopt it ?"
*• I wouldn't do it," replied Ellen, earnestly,
though her cheeks were instantly after suffus
ed with blushes, as she thought how frankly
she had expressed her apiuiou to au eutire
stranger.
The words torched an electric chord in the
mind of Arthur Dunning.— ** I wouldn't do it.*'
He was instantly transferred by them back
to childhood's days. Once more he was in the
nursery at Mr Herbert'*- The hand of the
speaker was laid pleadingly, arresting!/ an his
arm. He could hardly persuade himself that
he did not feel Us gentle pressure. At last he
roused, himself from his musings sufficiently to
recollect that the silence which followed Miss
1 lasting's last words might seem to her long
and strange. Almost mechanically he inquir
ed. " Why not
Ellen hesitated. Was he called npon to
express to Mr. Dunning,"Stranger as he was,
the sentiments she heid on sueh .-.abiects?—
Then again the words of her dying siter were
brought to her tniud. She was sure these sea
tiweuta were just aud right. Why should she
"REiSARDEESS or DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
hesitate to utter them, when called upon to do
so ? She replied—
" I cannot approve of resistance to rightful
authority. I know there are young men who
under certain circumstances, regard such a
coarse as mauly. But to me it seems exactly
the contrary. No course is so truly mauly in
a young man, as that of yielding gracefully
and unhesitatingly to the authority of those
who by virtue of their office have a right to
claim obedience from him. If the regulations
seem somewhat arbitrary, the manliness and
self-command which yields obedience becomes
only the more evident."
" But are there no cases in which arbitrary
rule should be resisted."
" I will not take it upon myself to answer
this <|ues tion iu the negative. Allowing that
such cases do occur, it does not seein to me
this is one of them. I think that every mem
ber of the college who joins in this scheme of
resistance, will one day regret it. More ma
ture years will show him that he was hasty and
impetuous."
Arthur Dunning listened to Ellen's words
as to au oracle, though certainly there was
nothing oracular in the manner iu which they
were uttered ; for that manner was singularly
modest and unassuming, robbing her words of
wisdom of anything which could appear like
dictation. As Arthur remained silent, Ellen
continued ;
" Pardon me, sir, if I have expressed my
opinions too frankly. My only excuse is, that
you asked for such an expression of them."
" And I thank you most sincerely for grant
ing that request," replied Arthur, warmly.
No further opportunity for conversation
with Ellen was presented that evening, and
Mr. Dunning parted with her without reveal
ing the fact that he was the Arthur of by-gone
years.
But Ellen's frank protest against the pro
posed scheme of rebellion was not without its
effect on Arthur Duuning. The plan was at
last carried out by a portion of the students,
who hoped that their number and respectabili
ty would shield them from disgrace. But this
hope proved delusive. The officers of the col
lege were uot so easily overawed. Those who
enlisted in the scheme were driven to the al
ternative of making a humble confession of
their error, and promising obedience to the
very regulations against which they had rebel
led, or of being in disgrace.
But Arthur Dunning was not of tlieir num
ber. lie pondered seriously the words which
Ellen had spoken, and the result was that he
did not do it, but at the expiration of his col
lege course graduated with distinguished honor
Five years pass away, and Ellen Hastings
is spendiug some at the house of another
friend, in a city many miles distant from the
one to which the brief visit just chronicled was
made. Here again it was her fortune to meet
with Arthur Dunuiug. He was introduced to I
her at a large juirty which she attended soon
after her arrival. But she failed to recognize
in the popular and pleasing young lawyer,
wbos talents and eminent social abiiities ha !
made him a universal favorite, the high-spirit
ed and mischievous Arthur Dunning of child
hood's memory, or the youug collegian with
whom she had jiassed but one brief evening.
Not so witli Arthur. He was not now j>er
plexed by dim recollections of the past as he
had been on the former occasion, but at once
recognized in M iss Hastings, the fair mentor
of former years. Arthur now sought the ac
quaintance of Miss Hastings, and fortune
seemed to favor his wishes j for he frequently
met her in general society. But though he
constantly sought opportunities for intercourse
with her, yet his attentions were so quiet and
unobtrusive, that they excited no particular
observation. He was often on the joint of
alluding to their former meetings, but some
thing always seemed to hold him buck, and he
continued to suffer Elleu to suppose that they
had receutly met for the first time.
Ellen was herself much interested in the
youug lawyer, whom she thought remarkably
agreeable. If any deeper interest was awak
ened by his quiet and gentlemanly attention,
she was at the time unconscious of it.
Things were in this state, when, one even
ing. Arthur and Elleirchanced to meet in a
small and select circle. Early in the evening
Arthur was called away by a friend, who wish
ed to see him on pressing business. It is re
lated ot an eccentric individual, that he was
always observed to be the last to leave any
company in which he was fonnd. At length
surue one had the anxiety to a-k him the rea
son for this. Ilis reply was, " I have always
noticed that eaeh one, as soon as he leaves
the eonqianv, becomes the theme of conversa
tion for those who remain." The company
which Arthur Dunning left that evening, prov
ed no exception to this rule.
" Dunning is a fine, talented young man,"
remarked one.
" Yes, a young man of mrt talents, accord
ing to my judgment." remarked another.
'• And of rare social gifts," said a third.—
" No social circle among his acquaintance is
deemed complete without him "
" Too social, I fear." remarket! a fonrth,
gravely. "Or jverhaps I should sny too con
vivial. A young man of his temjß-ranieut is
iu peculiar danger."
" Very true," replied an elderly gentleman
" It is greatly to be regretted that Dunning is
falling into such habits."
Ellen started, and turning to an elderly la
dy who sat by ber side, asked in a whisper,
" What habits
" It is said, and I suppose with truth, that
Mr. Dunning is too fond of the wine-cup," was
the reply.
A young lady who had overheard the answer
to Ellen's question, now drew near, and said.
" What a jfity. is it not i to see so fine a
young man ruinod !"
'■ Is his ruin then a fact so confidently an
ticipated r asked Eileb.
'• AH who know him must hoj>e that he will
escape such a catastrophe," replied the eider
lady. "But those who have watched his course
for the last year, are compelled to feel that his
: danger is very great."
" And has uo one warned Uu of his dan
ger ?" asked Ellen'earnestly. "Do none of
his friends seek to save hira from im|>euding
ruin ?"
A young man who stood near, replied,
" lie is so proud and high-spirited, that he
would only resent such an effort as the high
est affront. He thinks himself in no danger,
and the person who should tell him he was
would only forfeit his friendship, without effeyt
ing any good result."
" Perhaps not," replied Ellen. "It maybe
he would take it kindly. At nil events, the
person would be discharging his duty.—Some
one surely should warn him."
" Suppose Miss Hastings should undertake
the office. I know of no one who would be
likely to have more influence," said the youvg
lady, a little mischievously.
Ellen would have thought little of this re
mark, regarding it only as harmless raillery,
hail it not suggested a question of duty.
" Would it be possible for me to say any
thing which could have any good effect V she
questioned with herself. " I am almost a
stranger. It is but few weeks since we met,
and after a few weeks more we shall probably
never meet again. Even should he be offend
td with me, it could result in no great harm."
After Ellen retired to her own room that
night, the subject was again presented to her
mind, and she felt a strong desire to warn the
young lawyer of his danger. She half resolv
ed that she would do it even at the risk of his
displeasure. She now recollected that on more
than evening when she had beeu in company
with him, he had appeared quite different the
last of the evening from what he had been the
former part of it. At the time she little thought
that the brilliant sallies of wit which he pour
ed forth, were in no small degree the result of
artificial stimulants ; but now she saw clearly
how it was.
A few evenings after, she again met Arthur
at a large party. It excited no surprise that
he should, early in the evening, quietly make
his way to her side, for he had often done it j
lefore But her heart beat as it had never j
done on previous occasions, as she thought of
the desire she had cherished to warn him of j
his danger. Tiie task had seemed sufficiently !
formidable when it had been contemplated in
the seclusion of her own chamber : but it now
seemed impossible, as beside her sat the gen
tlemanly, graceful, and dignified Arthur Duc
niug. It did seem almost like an insult to
warn him. of danger. Danger of what? Of
becoming a besotted drunknid. Irnjiossible !
That graceful, manly form ! those searching,
flashing eyes ! that elevated brow, stamped
with the unmistakable impress of genius !—he
in danger of such a fate ? It must be the hal
lucination of a disordered brain. It could be
nothing more, and she would not cherish it.
As the evening wore on, the wine cup circu
lated freely. Arthur's face became flushed,
and his eyes flashed with increased brilliance.
Vet lie stood beside Elleu iu the act of pour
ing out another glass.
" It is too true I fear," thought Ellen.
Castiug a hasty glance around, to assure
herself that she was unobserved, Elleu follow
ed the impulse of the moment, and placed her
hand over the glass. Arthur turned towards
her, aud his inquiring glance demanded an ex
planation
" I wouldn't do it," said Ellen pleadingly,
as her eyes met his.
" 1 wouldn't do it." How those well-re
membered words thrilled through his very soul!
There was uow a depth of pleading earnest
ness in the voice of the speaker, such as there
had not IJCCD on the previous occasions. Ar
thur was confounded. On those occasions he
knew there had been a cause. But what ex
cuse could there uow be ? and again he ques
tioned. " Why not ?"
" Because there is danger in the cup," was
answered iu the same toue of geutle jtersua
siveness.
Arthur colored slightly, and replied quick
ly, " Not for rue."
" For all who love it," was the rejoinder. I
The glass remainea v.nrasted, but Arthur '
escajietl from the side of Ellen as soon as he
could do so without manifest rudeness, and he
did not seek an opportunity of speaking with
her again during the remainder of the evening.
This did not escape the observation of Ellen,
ami she feared that she had offended him deeply, i
Tuis fear -o distressed her that she was start
led by the secret that it revealed. She could
no longer conceal from herself the fact that
she was beginning to feel a deep interest in '
Arthur Dunning, much deeper than she suppo '
sed. or could have wished.
The next day. Arthur sat alone In his office, 1
tuusiug on the events of the previous evening.
The words >iiil rang in his ear. " I wouldu't
do it," and agaiu, "it is fur all who
love it!"
" Is it jKxsible that Miss Hastings thinks
me in danger?" he asked. And something
like iudiguatioQ stirred within him. " How
could >he have indulged such a thought—one.
I am sine which never occurred to any but
her. That I should have beeu so insulted, and
by IRT too. If it had beeu any other j<erson,
I could have borne it."
But something within whispered, " Don't
you love it ? Don't you love it ?"
'• Why yes, I love it," was the response ;
" but not enough to be in any danger."
The only au-wtr to this disclaimer, was the
echo of the words—" Don't you love it ?'
Just at this moment a friend of Arthur's
entered the office. Alfred Wiothrop was a
young man who stood high iu the estimation
of Arthur Dunning. Among all his acquaiu
tanances, he could not mention one for whom
he cherished greater respect, or in whom he
reposed more entire confidence. After some
desultory eouversatiou. Winthrop said,
" 1 must congratulate you at the new leaf
you turned over at the party last evening."
" What new leaf ?"
41 1 suppose you kuow that you were unusu
ally temperate, and you do Dot need to be told
that temperauce is a great virtue."
Wiuthrop said this with assumed careless
ness and lightuess of manner, and under other
circumstances, it would have passed off with
Dunning as a kind of railery which vc-
VOL. XVII. —NO. 41.
rv little. But his peculiar state of mind led
him to observe his friend more closely, and lie
was convinced that his lightness of manner
was only assumed to hide more of real interest
than he cared to display. A new revolution
now dawned upon the mind of Arthur Dunn
ing. After a moment's silence, he said with
emphasis,
" I have one question to ask you, Winthrop.
I conjure you to give me a truthful answer."
"Winthrop seemed a little startled by his
friend's manner, but replied, though not with
out some embarassment, that he was ready to
answer any civil question.
"Then tell me truly, if you or any of my
friends have feared that 1 was in danger frotn
the wine cup ?"
" Yes, truly we have," answered Winthrop,
gravely. "We have feared for you more than
we can easily find words to express, though I
must confess to a timidity, which I fear is
wrong, that would have witheld me from tell
ing you so, if you liad not asked me the ques
tion ; but now you cauuot be offended with
me."
I am not offended," replied Dunning, seri
ously. " But the admission you have just
made, has startled me. I would think over
the matter in solitude before making it the
subject of conversation with any one "
" You are right," said Winthrop rising to
leave. "\\ hatevcr conclusion you may arrive
at, I hope yon will at least believe that" I have
been actuated ouly by warm and sincere friend
ship for you, in makiug the admission that I
have."
After Lis friend had left, Arthur Dunning
sat long musing on this subject.
" Is it possible," he a.-ked himself, " that so
many of my friends can have thought ine in
danger from this source, and yet Miss Hast
ings was the first to warn me. I suppose they
dared not do it. The gentle Ellen alone had
the heroism to brave my displeasure. SLo
knew that I wa displeased with her last even
ing, and was troubled by it. I could read that
in her countenance. Well, I was disposed to
resent it then. I thought there was no cause
for her warning ; but I "begin to think I was
mistaken. I may be standing oa the brink of
a fearful precipice, from which many, more
manly than myself hare been dashed down to
detraction. Ido lore the wine-cup : there is
no denying this. I love it more than I dream
ed of. Am I not then in danger ? Xolde
g:r! 1 lou alone Lad the courage to waru me,
and the warning shall not be in vain Oh,
thou mocker and deceiver ! from this hour wo
part company. "Touch not, taste not, han
dle not," shall be ray motto. There is no safe
ty in half measures. I will bid thee an eter
nal farewell and then I must be safe. Friends
shall no more tremble for Arthur Dunning."
Having thus settled this most important
point, the thoughts of Arthur again turned to
hiicii Hastings.
" She thinks I am displeased with her frank
ness. I mast seek an interview, arid assure
her that this is not now the case. I must al
>o inform fcer that this is the third time she
has bee.i my kind mentor, my guardian-angel.
But where can I meet her. I thir.k she will
i>e at Mrs. Lee's party to-morrow evening.—
If I do not find the opfrortunity I wish for
there. I mu-t seek it elsewhere *'
Arthur Dunning wa* not disappointed in re
gard to meeting Ellen at the p irty the next
evening. Arthur was on the wat< h for an op
portunity of addressing her without ljeing
overheard by others, but he carefully avoided
prox.m ty to her until snch an opportunity
should occur. Ellen perceived that Arthur
avoided her, and was pained to see it ; for she
thought it proved that he bad not forgiven her
the liberty she took at their last meeting.—
Since that time, the fear that she had offend
ed him, had given her store pain than she
could Lave wished, am' now that this fear
seemed to be confirmed by Lis care to avoid
her. she was more than ever troubled by it.—
She tri.-d hard to dispel all thoughts of him
from her mind ; but -he conld not do it. Strive
as she would to banish these thoughts, they
would quickly return, marring all the enjoy
ment of the evening. At last, wearied with
the effort to join in the fe-tivities which sho
was iu no state of mind to enjoy, she withdrew
to an apartment which had been nearly deser
ted by the guests, and seated herself by tho
window, the drapery of which served nearly to
cnceal her from the few who still remained
in the room.
Arthur, who had been watching her. though
afar off. all th evening, soon discovered the
the place of her retreat, and followed her
t lie re. She had not observed his approach,
and when he addressed her she gave a quick
start. Artliur perceived it and said,
" Arn I not intruding, Miss Hastings?"
" Oh, no," was the frank r**ply. " I hare
not bad the pleasure of seeing you this even
ing. Shall I tell you that I feared you were
offended with in" Have yon yet forgiven mo
for what you no doubt thought was an üßpar
donable rudeness on my part."
" How Jo yon know that I have been offen
ded with you
" 1 am sure you were the other evening, and
I have feared that you -till were."
" I will be perfectly frank with you, Miss
Hastings. 1 will own that 1 did feel some
thing like resentment at that time. But I have
thought calmly and seriously of this matter
since*, ar.d the result has beeu that i have be
come convinced of my danger ; a danger of
which no one but you has ever dared to warn
me. 1 have sought you to night to thank yoa
most s ncerely, aud to assure you that my-elf
aud the wine-cap have parted company for
ever.''
As Arthur said this, Ellen raised ler eyes
to lis face wiih sash an expression of glad
surri.-e a.- thrilled his very heart.
I "Do you remember the words yon used,"
|continued Arthur, "when yon prevented me
. from drinkiug lh.it gloats of wine
"1 am sure ido not." replied Ellen, was
too rauih lightened at my own temer.ty, in
I taking such a hbertj with TOO an so short an
i acquaintance, to n tain anything more than a
■ recollection < J tie general import of the word*."
I " You caid. ' I wculd n't do it.' Do voa