fgjjiß PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA: ,nrss9 fcbtnarn 1838 Stltrieb IpDttrj. FIRST GRIEF. BY JAMES HKDDKKWICX. ThfT trll me. first and early love Outlives all after-dreams; But the memory of a first great grief To me more lasting seems. The crief that marks our dawning youth To memory ever clings ; And o'er the path of future years A lengthened shadow flings. Oh ! oft my mind recalls the hour When to my father's home IVath came, an uninvited guest, From his dwelling in the tomb. I had not seen his face before, 1 shuddered at the sight; And 1 shudder yet to thiuk upon The anguish of that night! A vouthful brow and ruddy cheek Became all cold and wan : An eye grew dim in which the light Of radiant fancy shone. Cold was the cheek, and eold the brow, The eye was fixed and dim ; And i !,c there mourned a brother dead, Who would have died for hnn. I know not if 'twas summer then, I know not if 'twas spring ; Bat if the birds sang in the tree, 1 did not hear them sing. If 2 >wers came forth to deck the earth. Their bloom 1 did not see : ! looked upon one withered flower. And none else bloomed for me ! A sad and silent time it was Within that house of w>>e , A'.', eyes were d:m and overcast, Attd every voice wa> low. And from each cheek at intervals The blood appeared to start. As if recalled in sudden haste I aid the sinking heart! _ Seftiv we trod, as if afraid To mar the sleeper's sleep Aud >t .le last looks of his =aJ face For memory to keep. With him the agony was o'er. And now the pern was ours ; A> thought* of his sweet childhood rose, Like odor from dead flowers! \-A irhon at Jat he was brtic af-ir F: "'i tV- world's weary strife ; H w fl in thought dl we acaia L.ve o'er his little life. !•>- every look, his every word. Hi* very voice's "one. Cias icwk to us like thinsr* whose worth Is only prized when gone! The. ™ief has passed with years away, A:i i j >y has been niy lot; Bat the ear i* long remembered, And the other soon forgot! Tb- ,-iyest hour* trip lightly by. Ar.d leave the faintest trnee : Bat tie deep, deep trace that sorrow wears X i titnr can e'er efface ! 5r I e 111 b£ a 11. [Front Putnam's Monthly.] SXIP-SNAP. 'r.his Susan Simpson, age eighteen, with I iWty talent of pleasing men, was the ao 1 * edged [.etk; of the little Marrow Sqaash X.rT. Lis little talent of pleasing men is some lies riven by nature a* a eoui|>eD.*ation for tc sck of every other accomplishment, of rearing any ; but this was uot the case 1 s Cynthia, who had good Yaukee scuse. 1 vvin of sprightlioess in her composition. ' >a latter, *> 1 take it, requires several uth !" "ilests for its support, otherwise it soon into silliness, whence it sours iuto 1 *"v ill nature iu the country girl—in the i- ; i of society into sarcasm. •fT'.' a was pretty, in the freshness of her American beauty comes forth like a '*• and i* cut down. The loveliness of L sd rarely ripens in the matron. Aud 1 iu afraid to risk her loveliness uo for whilst she encouraged the atten aauy " beaux." who, iu the language ' vf society. •' went to sec her" evening af ?vvag, a; the snug farm-lioose of her fa * .ti.Ytr any of tbe?e swains took the rtnaity to press upon her notice the na in? case, and urge the necessity of its L} v'urv, she cut the matter short with i *L:b must bo said, that amongst all her then was not one who was a priori ~ i, ; S before a reciprocation of his love "j pkee— a very desirable match for her. Kst was Set h Taggart, who paid his r .' Tt oae afteraoou, iu a bran new fi ; ie, black broadcloth. I'retty . a was a'uae, aud prepared by previous eace to discern symptoms of an ap assault opon the Malakoff of her , pursed up her pretty iittle a:. j sewed, with nimble-glancing fiu . 0C of one of the old squire's lour'" Q,,i> ' eac^ cotton ; aud thought to > C * St a Taggart was, aud v 1C *°ld gel out of the fix in -e foend himself, and how he could •eo thick the had given hiai encoorage looked—very bewitching. Poor W tiie T Cge of his chair, and gazed window, which was ojven, into T but his was a mind like that of North's Peter— A , oa Qic ritfr'i bhaa, pr.a-Cc* to - 3 ' any iosptration iu the weed's -""-'•j p • iii-o the ashes * * * —■■■ J J THE BRADFORD REPORTER. " Miss Cynthia," said he, at length, " did you ever see a crow V "Yes, Mr. Seth," said she, folding her gus set, aud looking down at it demurely as a mouse. " Black—aiu't it ?" said Seth. " Very." Then came a pause. " Darn it—l wish she'd help me out," said Seth in his own tho't. " The little minx knows what I want to say, and she might help me to say it." What man has uot thought this before now, at courting time—aud wished to borrow femi uiue tact, aud the larger experience of women, to help him out of the slough of despond he is beginning to sink into ? What man would not give the world to kuow how the last man who offered himself to her, got through with it? " Ever see an owl ?" said Seth, at leugth, falling back upon his own resources. " Often, Mr. Seth," lisped pretty Cynthia. " It's got big eyes—ain't it, now ?" " Very big eyes," said she. Seth grew angry. Angry with himself, no doubt ; but anger, like Phoebus Apollo at sunset, glows brightest in reflection. He thought it a " mean shame," she wouldn't "help him out," while she sat there, lookiug " good enough to eat," and laughing at him, as even his blunt pereeptiou told him, whilst her attention was apparently bestowed upon ; the shirt-sleeve. He wished it was his shirt she was stitching so assiduously. He stirred up the ashes on the hearth, aud almost made up his mind that " he waru't going to give her another chance at him bat Cynthia dropped her cottou-ball, and Seth, not rising from his chair, stretched out his long, lank arm, and picked it up. He touched her hand as she j took it back, aud an electric shock thrilled through his veins, aud made him " feel all over —ever so," as he some time afterwards ex pressed the sensatiou to me. " Miss Cynthia, may be you are fotid of maple candy •• Very." said she. "Well, now." said Seth, "the next time I come, I'll try aud oring you a great gob." Put as he rode home, behind his old farm mare, he said to himself, " I reckon I ain't go : ing back to court a gal who sees a feller in a ! fix, aud never helps him." And -ure enough he never dnl return. MLs Cynthia lost her richest lover, and many folk-", even to tins day ! believe she wished him back again. It is the wuv of woni"n to want the thing that can't lie had. At least, so men say, if not in prac i tice, in theory, and Cynthia's mouth watered, ! f dare say, for many a week after, for that gob of maple caudy. THE MORAL. —Let every man, oh ! pretty J girl, pay court to you in his own way, and not in your way, and help him ont at that : being sure, however, that you are in harmony with his mode of procedure. Never disturb ice-cream when it is going to freeze ; nor lift the pot as it begins to boil ; nor make a false step aud get out of time when your partner is meditatiug a mtrs in the iltur temps, or the polka. Many a declaration of affection has been frightened off by some wrong uote sung iu the treble of the duet, which put it out of ; harmony. Cynthia. though so pretty a girl, and so ex perienced in the art of saying " no," to an of fer of marriage, had yet a good deal to learn iu her own craft : aud, indeed no experience ever primes a woman for the decisive moment, j Each case, must be met on principle, and not ' on precedeut. It is our business to discover, i in this storv of " Snip-Snap," how far pretty j Cynthia profited by the exjKTience she prided j herself upon in the rejection of her lovers. It was a mellow autumn morning, and a | russet glow had tinged the woods at the back of Squire Simpson's homestead. It was Seth Taggart's welding day. He was to marry j that evening, Susie Chase —a smiling little rose-bud of a wife, to whom he found plcuty of things to say. as sweet to Susie's ears as to j iier lijw hi> tnapie caudy. Cynthia, as one of iter best friends, was to be bridesmaid ; and as she wished to shine that night, in ail her I braverv. aud wanted some new ribbons for Iter head-dress, this want tempted her abroad, a little after noon, when the harvest-fields were quiet a.id the yoked oxen stood relieved from J iabor, ieisurely chewing the sweet morsel re- j ' served for that soft, suuny hour of rest, as i meu of business used to do the thought of the • last letter written by the hand they love, til! the burden of the day is laid a-ide, putting it ajiart (with all its woman's nonsense, and half unreasonable fancies, pure from the contact of the pile of yellow letters lying on their desk, offerings u[H>! the shrine of Mammon. Oar preny Cynthia tripped along her path, scattered a cloud of graashopjiers and crickets as she stepped : and iu her dllv little pride of belie hood her uoart hciu, though she would not have confessed the thought, that iter rela tive value to her crowd of beaux was in the 1 satne pro|K>rtioa as that of oue woman to ma ! nr grasshoppers. I At a turn iu the path she came suddenly on ! ouc of these a.Jm.rers —Irank Handy. Frank s i face flushed. He had been thinking of her when she surprised him—thinking of her ali • that day and through a sleepless night : and j in those hoars lue Cynthia of his fancy had ! smiled on him ami laid lier gentle hand in his. aud had been gathered to his heart—it was a shock to come thus surideulj upon so different a reality. AG the moment lie eucouutercd her he was indulging himself iu an imaginary : love scene, in which he was callmg her. iu : heart, "MY Cyuibia, my love," aud at the sudden sight cif her all such presumptuous fan cies fled in haste, aad hid themselves, shrink ing like vari-tiuted coral polypi when danger approaches—each into the recesses of its ceil. " I beg TOUT pardou. Miss Cyutiiia, he said, stammering before he gaUi red seif-po sessioii, aud accustomed himself to her pre sence. " 1 was on my way to make you a call. If you will allow uie, I will turn round and walk witia you." " I am uot going far, Mr. F rank, only into the village, for some ribbon for my hair, and gentlemen disi.kc shopping." knowing pcrf* •- tv well that he * oTd *'h her PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " REDARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER." " I know where a wild hop-viue grows," said he ; " it would make a much prettier or nament for your hair than any ribbons you could buy in the village." " And will you get uie some ?" " Turn this way into the weeds, and spare me half an hour while I twist it into a wreath. I am going away from here to-morrow, per haps. I have beeu offered a professorship iu a school of agriculture." " Indeed, Mr. Handy I" There was a pause, aud Cynthia resumed, a little hurriedly : " I should think you would like going away from here. There is nothing to tempt a youug gentleman to remain among us." " I shall like it, in some respects, better than my present life," said Handy. "This far mer's life, wheu there are no higher interests to accompany it, does not draw out the best energies of amau. Ilis nature, like his tho'ts, goes round and round in the routiue, like a squirrel in its cage, and makes no progress." " This mau thinks higher things than I think," was Cynthia's thought as he said this, and, for a moment, she felt humbled in his presence ; bat she rallied her pretensions, re membered lur bellehood and her conquests, aud the light in which she always had been looked upon by all her lovers, and was almost' disposed to revenge upon Frank Handy the j passing feeling of inferiority. Frank stood in , silence, twining the hop-wreath for her head j He did uot speak. His thoughts were bu-ied with the words he would say to her when he ; broke the silence. He was satisfied to have i her waiting at his side, waiting for the hop- j wreath, with its pale green bells, that he was ! twining leisurely ; and Cynthia grew impatient as she found she did not speak to her. She | addressed him several questions, which answer ed with au air of pre-oceupation. She wander- j cd from his side a few yards among the rocks, < turning over with her foot some pebbles cover ed with gray and orange moss, aud disturbing all the swarm of bosy insect life which made ' j its home there. The influence of the day stole iuto her heart, aud made her auswers more soft i i and natural. ! „At last llundy broke silence, calling her to him, as she stood watching the stir which j the point of her foot had produced iu an ant-' j hill. " Miss Cynthia." "Is it finished ?" she said quickly. " Not the garland—but the struggle in ray j breast is finished. I have been questioning myself whether 1 would say to you what 1 am about to say." Cynthia gathered a leaf, and began slowly j i to tear apart its delicate veins and fibers. " Miss Cynthia, is it pleasaut to you to have a man say he loves you ?" " 1 don't know, Mr. Ilan ly. I suppose so. That is, I think it is very embarrassing some times." '• Why embarrassing. Miss Cynthia ?" He was taking her on a new tack. It was ; different from anything she had ever before exjierienced. She did nut Lke this way of having his offer. "It is embarrassing when 1 know that my only answer e-.iu be No," she said, looking J him in the face for a moment, and then cast ing her eyesupou the lime leaf she was dis -1 sectiug. " It would be more embarrassing. I think if von were not so sure," he said, "aud if you took 1 the matter iuto consideration." "It never wants any consideration with me," she answered, j " What ! did you never place before your j j mii.d the subject of marriage? Have von j j been satisfied with the vain triumphs of a belle ? And did you never look beyond to see what the happy duties of a wife, and the sweet ties i of home might lie ?" j Cynthia laaghed, but the laugh was affect 'ed and constrained. " What nonsense, Mr. Handy !'' j "It is not nonsense," he replied ; "such thoughts are fit for maiden meditation—they are wotuanlv—and uv-wm/y, above everything j else, I should wish my wife to be " " I hope she may be all you wish her, Mr. Handy. We will go now, if you please, if you have finished my garland." " It is uot ready for you yet," said Handr, passing it over one arm w Itile he took her hand. " Cvnthia. leloved ! you must listen to me." She drew her hand away, but he took it again, and resumed : on must let me fee! its pulses beating against my hand, while I tell you the secret of my life—of my love for I al wavs loved you. 1 loved you when yoa were a blooming little girl, aud we both went to school to Kzekias lfoed, dear Cynth a. I have ' loved YOU against hope—at against my better reason. 1 have hesitated to tell you tiiis because incumbrances on my farm made my pv-'ition less than that nicii 1 thought ought to be offered to you I have watched you with other admirers : and, m some moments, have not thought that any other had your preference, so that other men have taken their chance tscfore me. T ;is offer of a |ffofcssar sliip. which adds a thousand dollars to my in come. makes it possible forme to address you Cvu'hia I there are depths of tenderness which no human eye has ever fa'homed, in many a strong man's heart —depths which, p rhaps. are by the shallower nature of your sex. en r rely reciprocated or understood. It is not a'.one my heart, it is my very nature—heart aud soul, mind and and strength—that I offer to you. The love of yon, lik; things which plants absorb and assimilate into their owe. Towth, ha- become part of me. This a tried and true affection. Cynthia. It has awaited patiently until the moment came when it might be offered to yonr acceptance. Cynthia, it* you will lav this little hand iu mine" he let it fall bat stretched out bis h3nd towards her.' " I will strengthen yoa, and elevate yon and guide von You shall be a woman of higher rank. as Gods rank woman.) for your union with a ♦aaa's .stronger, steadier aud more single mind ed nature and Cyntbia. your iu3ue:ice for •tocl on me will be incalculable. Who can estimate wfia* a man owes to ?he affection r* a woman * A'l I i'J r th*t '? 1 Wil. N<k iWe Ihtwar hi a nee Y-i draw forth—perhaps create—the gentleuess, delicacies, and the tendernesses that complete the manly character." He paused, and Cynthia stood with her hands hidden in the folds of her mantle. " No," she said, slowly ; " I am sorry, Mr. Handy, but I cauuot be what you wish to yon." There was au embasrassed silence between them for a few moments, and thn Cynthia, gathering courage with her rising pride, con tinued : " I am not good enough to answer your ex pectations, Mr. Handy. You must look else where for the kind of woinau who will satisfy you." Handy started and his face flushed eagerly. He was about to speak. Cynthia caught the lightning of his eyes ; but when they rested on her face, he saw that her words were not wholly sincere, and the look faded. " You are not dealing fairly with me, Miss Cyutbia, nor with your own heart," he said, a little bitterly. " You are not convinced of what you said this moment. You think in jour heart I am a foolish fellow, and that I ask too much. You do not think that Cynthia Simpson fails short of the reasonable ideal of any man." " 1 don't know why you should say such things," said Cvnthia, growing angry uud near ly ready to cry. It was the first time any of fer had been made which had uot left behind it a self satisfied feeling of triumph ; and yet here was F'rank Handy, as incomparably su perior to anv other suitor she had ever had us . Well, no matter. " Miss Cynthia," sard Frank, "when a man loves a women, as I have long loved you, he singles her out from the whole world as his representative of womanhood ; and there is that in her before which he bows down, doing homage to the woman nature within her. But this does uot imply unconciousness of her faults, lie may see where she comes short of her own capability. Aud that marriage is true union iu which the husband, up to whom she looks, and on whom she should lean, strengthens her lietter iu its struggle aguiust her worse ua ture." They were walking towards the homestead, and walking fast. Cvnthia was angry, disturl)- ed, and mortified. Was this a time to dwell upon her faults ? She admitted that she had some. Vague confession ! by uo means im plying that Cynthia knew that, at that mo ment, she was proud, vain, insincere, and pet ulant, and that she was crashing down the better feelings of her heart to give the victory within her to the worst. If Handy wanted her, she thought, he might woo her with more respect to hr pretensions. And he should so woo her. If he loved her as he said he did. she knew her power was great. lie should bring his homage uot coldly to the woman hood within her, but to herself—to Cynthia Susan Simpson, in spite of the full display of all her faults, and even in opposition to lib better reason. She was not to be defrauded of her triumph ; and it would be a great one udeed, if she forced him. bv her faults them selves, to surrender at discretion They reached the steps ever the stone fence which led on to the highway. In their path lay a disabled grasshopper. F'rank set his foot on it ami crushed it firmly. " Miss Cynthia," said he, "few women have the cour age to treat rejected suitors thus. It is the true humanity." lie helped her over the stop* ami paused.— He took the hop-wreath carefully from his arm and gave it iuto her bauds. She took it with an indifferent air, and, as she took it, crushed some of the green blossoms. She would have treated him with more courtesy (had Frank but known it) if she had been entirely iudiffer eat to his admiration j •• Miss Cynthia," said he now i:i a grave and measured tone, which, iu spite of her-elf. im pressed her with a sense of the po*eriessnes* of her little arts when brought into conflict with hi* self-possession and sincerity. "I know verv well how you have dealt by many m- u, and I am not disjosed to fall into the ranks, and take my chance among your umny other patient suitors. It is true, that the wound ! which you inflict on me, will leave it* scar for i life : but I cannot make my self-respect an of fering even to you. And if yon have the feel ! ings of true nobleness*, which I always fan cied 1 discerned in you, you would resjxct in?, esteem me, love me less, for such a sacrifice. 1 *uali never offer myself again to you." Cyn thia started. Slight and rapid a* her ifinve ineut was, lie saw it. and re|eated. " I shall never offer myself again : and I leave ttiLs place to-morrow, never to return to ir, till I nave subdued this love for you. To night T *ha!i be at the wedding. lam groom-ma ito Setli Taggart, and 1 shall stand up with yon. lam going home to consider foiiy what has passed, to convince my-eif if 1 can, calmly, whether my love for you ha been an error in my life, for which my judgment is responsible, or only its misfortune : whether the Cynthia I have ioved is really capable, as I have dream ed. of scattering the clou U iuat dim her :>eau iv, aud shining forth in her sweet queeulincss uj>on the lonely darkness of the ram who can teach her what is to love. I d"> not know what I shall tuink. To-day lias shaken rev confidence in you. As I said before, I shail make you no further offer ; but. it I make up my ui iid to renew the one I have ju*t m.uie you, I shall say Snip ! duriag the evening ; and, if you answer Snap ! I shall understand it is favorably received by yon. Mind," he added. " I think it doubtful whether notwith standing my love for you. I shah think it right to say it. lam going iuto the field* to "med itate till eventide" upon say course, aad I may bring buck the conviction tlia* for the present ' rejection of my sait I ooght to be much oblig ed to joa. Nor shall I say say Snip ! more than once. Iu this uncertainty I leave tho matter to your cou*ukr*tiou.' ! " What impertinence P thought Cyrtaia.— " I never h-?*id of such a tiling ! ' A d sh ? began to cry. >uuJmg alone upon tre high way. hoidiug her boo-wreath i? her baud " I dou't k iow what I had better do I ' w hbe bad taken mm e ' war of speakin • to me. Oh ! why should he be so very un kind ? I don't care. It is his loss u great deal more than mine, if he is really iu love with inc." The evil spirit was coming back, and it whispered, "He will certainly say Snip ! but you had better not say Snap ! too read ily." She walked on, thinking, imagining a tri umph, w hen suddenly the thought came to her that she was confessing to herself she wanted to say Suap !—and why ? It was not possi ble that the tables of Iter pride were turned upon her j that she was iu Frank IlanJy's power to refuse or to take ; that she loved him ! " I don't care for him at all," was the suggestion of the bad angel. " I only want to teach him for the future to behave. He is a presuming, exacting, self-conceited fellow." " Have you ever, in the course of your ex perience," said the good angel, " seen any other man like F'rui.k ? Has not the conver sation of this very day raised him high in your esteem —which is—which must be—that is, he stands before you in a light iu which no other man has ever stood before ?" " I don't believe he loves we," said her per verse heart, "or ehe he wouid have taken a great ileal more pains to win me." " Ah !"' said the good angel, " what better love can a man give, than that which seesyour faults and strengthens you against them ?—- True lie has set his ideal of womanhood so high that von do not come up to it ; but he sees iu you capabilities for good beroud those of other women, though to the height of your capabilities vou have never attained." " Oh ! I shall be a worse woman and au unhappy woman, if I do not love Frank Handy, and very miserable if Frank Handy does not love me," said her heart turning to its better instincts, as she threw herself npoa her little, white, dimity-covered bed in her own chamber, ai d shutting out the light from her eyes, thought what life would be if Frank nev er said Snip ! Frank, who was even then walking in the fields, trying to think all the harm he could of her. Here she lay. and cried, ar.d disquieted her self in vain. Aad sho thought over sill the good she had ever heard of Frank Handy, and —strange !—that though it seemed to her he had the pood word and good opinion of every man who knew him, no oue had ever quite seemed to appreciate him to his full value.— Perhaps he had never shown his inmost heart to other people as he had to fu*r. H*r wound ed feeling seized upon the balin she found in such a thought. Frank was not a man to put forth his pretensions. She had wronged him very much in calling him conceited and pre suming. He had spoken only what he had a right to think about his sincerity ; and oh ! how she wished he could think a great deal better of her. Daring the burst of tears that followed this reflection, the great farm tea-bell rang. Cyu tiiia sprang from her bed aud wiped her eyes. If she looked as if >he had been crying, might not some one -av she was Iretted to lose Seth Taggart ? Seth Taggart, indeed ! She wasn't going to cry for losing any mac. And the evil qiirits resumed their sway. So Cyutiiia vveat down stairs, toweriug in pride and wrath. She had half a mind not to go to the wedding. No, she could not do that. People vvou'd certainly say things she would not like about her and Seth Taggart, if she staid away. It was delicate proand with her, this matter of Seth Taggar'ts, be cause he had never made her any offer. " I think men treat women shamefully," a lid Cyn thia in her thoughts, summing npa I her w rougs at once, as she sat at the tea-tab'e, priming herself with pride against the weakness before which she felt her courage giving way. " Cynthia, I reckon you'd btst go and dress vou." said her mother, a* she was clearing away the table af*"r tea ; " you leave the things, and I'll wash up and pat away. It will take vou some time to fix yourself, an 1 you ought to be there early, if you arc goiug to stand with Sue." ' Who's the groomsman, Miss Br.desaiaid ?" sai l her father. " Frank Il uuly, sir," said Cynthia, with a toss of her head. " Ila I Handy ?" said her father, " aright clever fellow is F'rank. It'll be a lucky wom an he stands up with to be married to." Cynthia escaped to her own room, and she began to cry again. T sere I her father -joke well of Frank ; but no ody could know him a* wr!l th. ii knew him. Oh !if he only would come lack. Why hadn't she known the state of her own heart that morning. But he took her by surprise, an 1 all hr evil feeding* had got tipperinu-t at the moment. Il won.'.q be very cruel of him—very—not to trv } lt;r agHiu. TLUS -he thought, until 'lie nji, sufficiently advanced in her tci'et to pat her wreath on. SbooM -he Wear it ? Woa' jit not be c.>.u fessing trej much, if he to e-. it in her hair ? Sis- looked for s,>; Q - ribha id* in hr drawer, but at tins 'a)6inc.it ii-r father called her, ar.d said, it 'jiecame quick he would drive her over to tvvie's bef<re le unharues-ed h * old mire. .o -he pnt on the hop vrrea'h in r. hurry, g' .mg it the ivnefit of hr don't. and it* trending gr-.>en bed- with t! ; e light Cur'.jj of her pretty hair. Where did you get that from ?" said her father. '* It's r:. ghty tu-tr. I deeiire Oh •me a kiss, t'inthy. I It-qyour b r.ux will think you luok h-tlf as pretty a* I do. And it's better, my child, to lc adnrred by vonr ' lather who loves vou. th-ia by a eriwd of fool is i fellows half oi uhout get aronn i u iwettv giri ja-t l.ke ay flock ••f.sheep rr.t vouder, one fol'c•■>": g i:ecausc;uirthcrismaking opto her." " Foolish feiiows tlicv Wtto " fc-)iih fel lors." But Frank Handy at Dot one of the n. Frank had followed in her train safficientTr tu ie aceuu iud on? of her suitors. It was th - very " fo.-i.sh" So.k whose ranks be scorned to c-t:-r A", that her father Mid seemed to ; her ca-cei.t foe' : ng. She kissed the old WJIZ ruddy check and felt as if the Callow lore th:t 2utt?r- I at her hs*:t hid l-een r-'i*'* 1 * l" Lr eprr^Vs VOL. XVIII. NO. 35. I " What time shall I come for yon, Cyn thia ?" said he, us she alighted at Susie's door. j "Oh ! not till late, father," she said, hur riedly. "Stay—iiotatall. Someof tlie young ! men will walk with me ; or, if they don't I'll come with Tommy Chase. lie's only eleven, but he's tall of his aire." % And now Cynthia found herself in the bride's chamber. The pretty little-rose bud, blushing in her wedding muslin, and going to l>e happy because—well, it takes a good deal inore sense than Susie had to be unhappy in life when one is blessed with a sweet temper and a good di ge-t:ou. A superadded jjower of suffering 19 a proof of an advance in organization,andwe sul tnit the argument to the skeptic, wlretber this truth does not imply the necessity of some power or influence which shall counterbalance and adjust tiiis sensitiveness of suffering in the highest natures ? Cynthia was waited for to pnt the finishing touches to the bridal toilet, for Cynthia had taste, and Cynthia among Iter girls had h reputation for good nature. Her fingers fail - ; ed her as she pinned the wedding wreath, and she trembled wore than the bride did when the buggy that was ent for the minister stoj>- ped at the end of the brick {with which led ap to the homestead. She saw Fraiik Handy iu his bridal suit going to receive the minister. " Cynthia go and tell the gentlemen they may come in." Cynthia shrank back. But as the brides maid it was her office, and the others rushed her to the door. " She didn't want to see Reth Taggart, I reckon," said one of the girls iu a half whisper. " Don't you see how pale she has grown V Cynthia falsified this speech by looking scar let before the addressed could turn her head j and she opened the door of the room, where the birdegroom and his men were caged, with auair in which assumed indifference wasstroug ly marked, and said " Gentlemen,we are ready" with a toss that seut the bop-bells dancing in her head. | Seih, long, lean, and shiny, in his wedding ' suit as a snake in a new skin, took little Su sie on his awkward arm : Frank liandy, quite collected, and self-posses-ed, offered his to the bridesmaid, and they followed the bride and bride-groom into the best parlor Cynthia and Frank were parted, thru took their places for the ceremony, it was only a moment that she leaned upon his arm, but that moment gave her a new sensation. It was a pride, such a> no woman re ed he ashamed of, ia resting U|>ou manly strength. Ifis arm did not tremble, though all her nerves seetned to be twitching like wires stretched, and suddenly let loo>e. He seemed so strong, so ea'm, so ' H'lf-collccted. and so dignified, that she Iregan to feel her own uuwortbiueas, and to mistrost ! her power. Rlie eat her eyes down dnring the service, tried to bring htr rebel nerves under control— -1 she heard nothing, and saw no one. The rain ' ister had blesaed them Loth, and kissed the bride. Everybody carae around the pair with salutations. The kissing was rather indiscrim inate. Setli claimed the prirelege of kissing all the girls, and. of course, he kissed the • brides-inad. His firmer sensation of " all over—ever so'' transferred itself to her in a | different way. She would as soon bare kissed ! a clam. "Cynthia, TOO and Frank bring it the cake. Yon seem to furget all you hare to do," said oue of the yoane girls of the party. " Frank ! Here ! Yonr brides maid is waiting, uud I declare. I don't believe you hare taker, the privilege of the kiss you are enti tled to/' Frank was called away from the side of a lady in blue, a stranger fiom the city who been brought by some of the guests. She had no other acquaintances, and Frank seem ed to be attentive to her. " I beg your pardon. Miss Cynthia," saidf he, turning from the lady, and taking JO notice of the latter part of the speech that was ad dressed to him, " let us do all that is expect ed of us " They went together into the pantrv, and were there alone. Cyuthia tbocght," if he in tends to say Snip ! now is the moment. * —- Hot I* rank was intent on the arranging cake on plates, and disposing thera on a large waiter. Cynthia felt ready to rrv She tc*i refuge in silence—and cake. It may Itire been the sweet. unwholesome smell of the wedding cake which made her head ache violently. It b n footUh cn>tom,* ? said Frank, a a they '.(Tangfcd the cake. " Fa-dish, that per l*caose they are happy. *boe!d want t< make other folks .sick Kit there is a great deal of <cl£-!;im?ss i.i tin- display of newly-m*r ricd h.ipjvn s>, as that ewsay by Flin tells uv'' Frank -ighed, and that siuh revived t! cou'3'TC of Crrjtliia. Now, she thought, ho will say " r-.iip f* Cuii I sjv - Snso !"' Oh ! n v Slit- par. o-.: tl*tie <wpetr. '* Yon triil not have a:r cake at y >ar wedding,Mr.Frank.** s'ie said. Everything a'xvat that will l>c tha rtf JJ .r 1 1 and reason." SSc bad not intended to be bnt a* 'he sper-cb Ml from ber fip% it Soaitded so It tr'fl'ng—unw Ttlit. She vr : >hed she had net sM it. lis toae *is out f Larra ny with what >he f-it. '• Come,** fa ! Frai k, " as feed thcni.** lie took oue of the handles c-f the 'my, and the brides-maid ' •:■■■ V the othet. Toe ro• a was very merry. The wr.s sirred w;t"i plenty cf mJisc, . ♦•! tlie urine after it. Frank &'e::v 1 to he qu'te reJf-jrf!seJised, and atten tive to'v-ry body. Cui'hra's beaux coal! ra .ken- t's r>_- of her. She answered their <yie-?.iou* wroi. A rttrrtvr mn that she was the * iio* for S 'h Sha drcTnad to d nce, on the plea that !ie mast k*<?|> herself !is?r.;ag i d far !ur duties a brde-mnid, ar.} : idee !, her he--.] ached so she feared the mot : on Aco>-.?t-d by her Seiko./ 3!. d wi:h too spirit left |o m .ke ajn -*t the rejw's t;.at wereeoinjr iio.it. ihe coo'd not pcc.e.r that F.nuk J not r J rr.u-:ut , :r h*r. i> *fe st is : t blue. Mr Hardy Li - t l * "l . •• , ' . - V• - .2 • --* F 5 **
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