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 **