L HOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. j T OAVxYTSTTJxY : rttornmij, lllarrh 18, 1858. jwluttV THE OUTWARD BOUND. i[; sold mwe dreira of the m iriner's grave, i\ir il 'Wi By the curat around ; How little we think of the wind and the wave, U'liea all we love are on land ! -... hurricane comes and the hurricane goes, Cid little heed do we take, Though trees may snap as the tempest blows, \ud the walls of our homestead shake, [j • 'he north-west wind tells a different tale, With a voice of fearsound, When a loved one is under a dose-reef d sail, On the deck of the "outward bound." H * wistful then we look on the night O the threatening clouds go by,— tad the winds get up. and the last faint light [s dving away in the sky ! ;; v we iiste.i and gaze with a silent lip, E.,,! judge by the bended tree, li * the same wild wind might toss the ship, Ai.>i arouse the mighty sea ! Aii >uii!y then do we meet the day, W . i >:gus of storm are found, •. :cuy for the loved one far away, i 1:, the deck of an "outward hound." one that 1 cherished when, hand in hand, w, r vd o'er tlie lowing lea ; . 1 tii- .-lit that my love for that one on the land t as love could he ; r that lie nath gone out on the tide, ; vl that I worship the in ire, A. I think f the waters deep end wide, An 1 1 bade on the waters on shore. ; i.tf w it-di'dthe wind, I have watvhM the stars, xr t shrunk from the the tempest's sound ; t ray heart-strings are wreathed with the slender .-pars The. carry the " outward bound." ; hir. slept when the zephyrs forgot to creep, ii.iL the sky was without a frown, J..i 1 started soon from that fretful sleep the dream of a ship goiug down. ; Lave -at in the fields when the corn was in shock, \ A the reaper's hook was bright, 3.: my Tiru y conjured tiie breaker and rock, T. the d'.id of a moonless night. ; niil never measure affection r.gain, While treading earth's flowery mound, . i wast till the loved one is far o'er the main, o.n the >!•• k of an " outward bound." § tltllllt € alt. .rx SMUGGLERiS RRVESIGE. A .SEASIDE YARN. ' is- .-t a while unto a greybeard's story. . a lrf l ,! i i- —the truth were worse. K•' '■ year 179 —, semi five miles from the •aiw.-re 1 am now writing, lived John - tiie - >ii of a substantial yeoman-far i!nl the hern of the tall I atn about to tell j'lvinl, open-hearted young fellow was "' 'is,;, il iys, handsome enough to turn i Sof half the girl- within an afternoon's I lis hnimstead where but for his rest keof any settled mode of life, he might Imve b"en now leading a tranquil old at the life of a farmer had no charms " A life of excitement for me !" said il young man to liis father's reruoti : "none of your Imm-drnm, stay at ri-side happiness for Jaek Brown.''— thinking, he soon joined a band of i\ who at that time infested this coast, ■days smuggling was not only more hut !<>< disreputable than now.— hemg almost closed to fair traders by f-e who required such fripperies as ami the like, on such creature cotn eogn :i*, were obliged—if they studied "—to boy them in the cheapest tnur- I this was in the hands of the smug bo at that time formed no considera ortion of Kngland's maritime popula ting Brown, who from his childhood n used to the sea, in a short time from 'ling of this narrative had, by his encr aptue-s fi,r command, elicited warm '""in his brother smugglers, and was elected captain of as " rakish " a look ter, called the Petrel, as ever bofth-d a • Tuber. Once in every week or two brought in the much coveted mns siiks for the ladies, and the Cognac, lords, who, how much they might r e smugglers and smuggling in public, ■be L ast objection to become purchas r,v ate of the smuggler's wares at far II * than they could have purchased the fair traders as by law protected brown's intimate companions was i'."il-fel!ow, who had joined him in '>'haiidcruises, a man of two or three I !>y name George Gilbert, the son "than in reduced circumstances, and " "£ been wild at college to which by it great |KTsounl inconvenience, lie 1 -rut, for he was a youth of promise, bU'in of then doing something good h had some months returned home, A T tiled of family reproaches, and "" much spirit to wish to live as a pen ' ."'Ucniid good nature, had joined the "Venturers. Brown and lie were • ' "ever were two men more utterly " " mind and body. By the side of • 'lack Brown, the quiet, saturnine 1 '""'t made a poor figure—yet there 1,1 !| un than a stranger would have jp7" aS *' ie S " l,l rfi' ers discovered. Stern r witll a face whereon a smile seldom | l ' f l then it was a smile more un ( ' a 'i any frown—with nothing genial f s moonlight—a smile of min and contempt, George Gilbert, t,V~, Was emphatically the brain of er. ' rw ' ' l was that planned execute. Whenever a cool, cal ' ' r a k* en °J" e an( l indomitable ' riiM* ?' re rc< iP'rcd, George Gilbert 1 w f ,,r nisli(d them ; whenever "pri-e t■ • he carried out bv a strong nerve, a reckless heart and an iron hand, then Jack Brown was truly " Jack at a pinch." Little wonder then it, with two such men banded together in one cause, the Petrel soon became famous for successful cruises and hair-breadth escapes —or that her crew, who were all bound together in a kind of partnership, soon were in a good way to real ize a handsome livelihood by their nefarious practices in spite of the revenue. Now, although it is by no means my inten tion to dose my readers with too much senti mentality in these veritable chronicles, still 1 suppose I should l>e lesssening whatever inter est my story may JJOSSCSS, by omitting such love matters as are matters as are necessary to that story's developement. Let me be brief, however. Jack lirown wooed and won as pretty a girl as ever wore a contraband silk band, or kissed a handsome young smuggler—Kate Furness. It was likewise surmised at the time that George Gilbert—though he had never shown any feelings of interest when Brown announc ed his engagement to his lady love —had at one time been a suitor for Kate's hand Scan dal said that she had not treated the young man fairly—that, though she had up to a cer tain jn;riod encouraged his addresses, the mo ment Brown appeared on the field, she had slighted Giibert in a manner undeserved—for however harsh ami nnainiable in other respects J might have been the character of George Gil- | bert, he loved her with all that deep—l had j well nigh said—stern attachment of which j such natures—and such only are capable.— Just before she had formerly declined his suit, he had lead a steadier life, and ha l promised, if she would only otter him an object in view, that he would go to Londou and there mike use of his talents to retrieve the past, and brighten the future. Bat, no Brown was a handsome, dashing young sailor, and poor George was a man destitute of such advan tages, and, consequently, was, like many abet ter man by many a more foolish girl, jilted.— And so, like a sensible man, for a time lie bore the blow in silence, and endeavored to to make the best of it. True, Jhe had deceiv ed him, ami then as coldly undeceived him, and then given Li in for his pains a sneer and his congre. No matter ; pride would enable him to bear it, and for a while pride did. One evening ; as he was strolling home ward along the chfi", lie saw the two lovers, Brown and his affianced, .sitting among the bushes in a loving tete-a-tete. Having no wsh to play the part of a listener, he was turning away, when he heard his name mentioned.— lie hud been more than a man if he had not pause awhile then. Involuntarily lie listened, and soon verified in his own person the old proverb, " that listeners hear no good of themselves for Kate was just then telling Brown the issue of poor Gilbert's unsuccessful suit, adding thereto sundry facetious com ments of her own, which went like swords through the heart of the proud man who heard every word then spoken, and never forgot or forgave one—and Jack Brown, with a horse laugh, said, " Poor Devil !"' till he roared again. Little thought fickle Kate Furness, that pleas ant evening, of the fearful consequences that would ensue from those foolish words of hers, spoken, after all, in merry Jest, but taken by one of the listeners in fierce revengeful earnest —little thought -he how a moment had alienated from her the faithful heart that had loved her for years. Little thought Brown how bis coarse laugh, in which there was not the least particle of ill-nature, had severed a friendship that had existed from childhood be tween himself and his old school fellow, G il licit, turning the friend into a deadly enemy henceforward, but it was so. From that hour Gilbert bated K:ite and Brown with all the intensity which belongs to temperaments like his. Still, Gilbert and Brown sailed together as heretofore, till one day as they were cruising | off Jersey, a few hasty wo.ids between the two ! led to a quarrel —blows were exchanged, and j tlie combatants were separated by their crew, j Directly they landed, Gilbert demanded sat isfaction upon the spot, and Brown, after a i few well meant but vain attempts at reconcilia tion, took his ground and shot his quondam i friei.d through the arm. At his own request Gilbert was left behind in St. Ilelicrs, and the Petrel sailed home. His wound, which was a simple ilesli wound, rapidly healed, ami from ' that time his connection with the Pet id ceased, j But he had formed his plan already to crush his bated rival. In a few months Brown was married to Kate Furness, and for year all went on happi- | Iv. Gilbert, by exerting what little interest . his father possessed with the country members. : procured an apjiointroenf. in the coast guard, | and from that day it was reniasked that more j seizures were made along the shore, and the I'elrel went more rarely to the coast of Franco. ; Knowing well the character of the man they had lost as a friend, the Petrel's crew became ; dispirited, and Brown speedily found that the worst day's work he ever did was his quarrel with George Gilbert. One dark night, however, after they had ascertained that Gilbert was on the sick list, the smugglers had arranged to effect a landing j of several tubs of spirits, and this was to be brought about as follows ; About a mile from their usual landing place, where the shore was less rocky than nearer ! home, to a stile, 011 the summit of the cliff, was attached a strong block and pulley, with ! one man to work it, a second as a general as sistant in case of need, and a third some quar ter of a mile off' 011 the look out Then the lugger ran in shores as close as possible, and the tubs were floated off aud conveyed by the smugglers to a snug cranny, there affixed to the pulley, and then wound up to the brow of j the cliff, when they were conveyed by the | second man to the third, who soou disposed of them in a convenient stackyard, to wait till railed for. But the smugglers had reckoned j without their host," as the saying is. The sick list was merely a sham, and in less time than .served to couvey four tubs up to the stile j from the beach, n shrill whistle from the smug- j phi's outpost announced that danger was PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TO WANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA (iOODRICII. " REPS A RULES.3 OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." abroad. The smugglers on the beach regain ed their lugger and awaited the safe advent of the rest to cheer off. But it was too late. — George Gilbert, with four or five men, was running to the scene of action, the smugglers on the high-ground were intercepted, and af ter a short conflict were worsted, and by Brown's order retired, leaving one of their number shot through the body on the grass, and Brown himself a prisoner, though not be fore he had sent a bullet through the hat of one and the leg of another of his assailants. He was dragged to the Preventive station, and there detained in safe custody till morning, when lie could be takeu before a magistrate. During that night lie bitterly reproached Gil bert with his treachery in turning his hand against his former shipmates, and tak ing ad vantage of the knowledge he had acquired on board of the Petrel, to capture her captain.— lie then went on to ask his old school-fellow if lie thought that a mere foolish quarrel justi fied such hatred as his. For a few moments, Gilbert looked at liiiu with a smile of hate, blended strangely with contempt, ere he re plied. "Think you, Brown, that a petty squabble like that would have really turned the old friend of twenty years standing into a lifelong foe. or that a few bluckgurd words followed by a well directed bullet from a wrong headed , idiot like you, could have made uie what I . am ! No—it needed something more to do.'' " Aud that something more was ?" a.-ked B own, eagerly, in spite of himself— " Listen, and you shall know a secret," said . t lie other. " A year or two ago I loved deeply, purely and truly, a village girl. Aye—you may j smile—but men like me can love us well—or ( far better than people of your kind—your love j may have been a plaything for your vanity— mine was the hope of life. 1 loved—was re-! jecled, after having been coolly deceived—and ! loved on still. I could have borne that. Aye . I loved and was a fool for my pains. She I loved might have been a girl with no more heart than head—a jilt—but though thus driv en from the only hope whereby my soul then seemed to anchor—my trusting love flung in my face—l forgave that, and would have car- i ried my secret forgivingly to my grave. She loved another : and I was to furnish mirth for my rival Well—one evening while I was walking out over yonder cliff— 1 saw her sit ting beside of him she loved—who could not love her with half the intensity 1 had done— -1 heard words of endearment—words I shtdl never hear or speak in this world now—then 1 i heard my name mentioned with many heartless < jests by her, for whom i had suffered so much anrepiningly. I hen d eno igh to tell no that in their eyes I was fit to be mocked and sneered at by ti false coquette —to lie the topic of the coarse jests of an empty headed boor. My blood was turned t> gall—that night I swore a bitter oath I have kept ttic first part al : ready —for that girl was Kate Furuiss, and j that man was —yourself ; aye—you —John j Brown—the prisoner of the ('oust. Guard to-J night—the committed for trial to-morrow — I the transported—if there be justice in the laud , —tit the next assizes. And I will keep that j oath still further." So saying, lie walked out and left his: prisoner to his reflections—which were not of j a very pleasant nature Not that the stout heart of Brown feared for himself, but for his wife, who was hourly expecting her confine ment. lie knew that if lie was to be trans ported, she could be at the mercy of Gilbert in some measure ; and he knew enough of the ingenuity of hi t captor to feel sure that he would allow nothing to balk liitu of his re venge. " Scoundrel !'' shouted he in despair, " if I hear that my wife and and the child yet un born suffer aiiglit at your dcvilKli hands 1 will j come back, if it be three thousand miles and j twenty years hence, to take such a revenge us J a man shall never forget." These words Were heard—not hy the ear for which they were intended—but by one of the coast guard outside the prisoner's door,who re membered them long after the prisoner was wearing Ids heart out in a foreign land. Brown w as tried—-found guilty of smuggling and firing, with intent to kill, at two of His ! Majesty's revenue officers, Ac., and sentenced to death—which was commuted to " transpor tation beyond the seas for a term of his natu ral life." There was what the local newspapers of the day called " an affecting scene in court," when ids greyheaded father entreated the mercy of the stern Judge for the prisoner for Ihe sake of his poor wife and his unborn child. There was a yed of excration from the assem bled mob outside the sessions house as Gil bert passed out to which that amiable person age vouchsafed a contemptuous sneer as sole re ply. And in a few months the capture of the I'elrel bv the ever-vigilant Gilbert, who broke up Brown's gang, and the story of the trial a d the sentence were speedily forgotten, save by the convict's and a few a sympathizing smuggler", who, over their pipes and grog, would often avouch tlu-ir opinion that Brown j would yet come back to keep his oath, of j which —thanks to that loquacious member of | the coast guard, who originally overheard it— j they were aware. With one of these men Brown kept up a correspondence, and thus knew everything that took place in his absence. But Gilbert appeared to have forgotten his old grudge against Kate, and so Brow n's heart I grew light on that score. The revenue officer only bided his time till he could wreak his ven gence most terribly through her son. * * * * * Twenty years had passed away from the night when Jack Brown was taken by the 1 Coast Guard, and Mrs. Brown, who had lreen j established by her relatives in a shop in the town adjoining her girlhood's home, was, with j a few friends, celebrating of her son Harry, a fine young man, who had iuherited from his < father a handsome face, an athletic frame, and ; as adventurous a spirit as his who was far away. His mother was calling to mind ber Jong-lost husband, and instituting food com parisons between him aud her wild boy, rc- l grefting Hiat both would folic a lawless' course of life, when a tap came at the door, it was opened, and in walked Gilbert and two of his followers. The poor mother saw all at a glance. Ilushing to the side window, she threw it up, and screaming " Flv dearest liar n—lly !" endeavored to impede the further advance of the officers. The effort was use less. in a moment they had dragged him from the window, and had led him away a prisoner to the door where lie stood breathless w:tli im potent ruge the astonishment at the sudden ness of his capture. Poor Mrs. Brown rush ed to the door, and then stood wringing her hands in till the helplessness of despair, till she saw the men preparing to march Jlenry off, when she said r " George Gilbert, I did not think two and twenty years ago, when you and I stood to- J gether in my father's garden, that you would j ever bring me sorrow like this—that you eonld ever ruin the husband and child of one who j never sought to injure yon or yours." '• Softly, my dear madam," sneered Giibert, 1 in a fierce whisper, which though unheard by his men, was perfectly audible to the wretched i mother. "Do you remember sitting on the i cliff twenty-one years ago, and giggling with John Brown, at that ' poor simpleton, George ; Gilbert,' as you then phrased it, as though a ! proud man's love were worthy of nothing more j than a weak girl's heartless laughter ?" Then, motioning her a few steps farther off his men ; and their prisoner, he continued, " if you have ! forgotten that, I have not—do you remember it, Mrs. Brown, note !" She tlil, indeed, remember all too well.— : " George," gasjied she, " mercy—mercy for j the sake of my boy, who never harmed you. ; 1 was but a silly girl in those days—yon will not—you cannot seek to crush my home for such .a girlish folly as that. George—if you 1 ever loved me, pity me now. I have been punished already too far by the loss of poor John. Is there no ncrcy, George ?" asked j she, looking imploringly into the revenue offi- ; cer's stern face, which for an instant worked convulsively, and then subsided into its wont ed passionless expression. After awhile he answered in a husky voico. " Kate Brown ! think of what I might have been ; for though the son >1 not a word, out. gazed at liitn like one dist " slight, as lie said to ids men— " Now, my lads, away with him," and turn ing to the weeping mother added, "to share I I hope, if not at present, his father's fate," \ and the young man was dragged off. But the party had not advanced many yards f-hen with an effort of desperate strength, Ire wrest ed his arm from one of his captors, knocked ' him down, and snatching the cutlass from the ! other's grasp struck him a fearful blow aceoss ] the head. The man fell Weeding at his feet, as Ilarry, waving his weapon, shouted to (til- j bert to come on. In an instant Gilbert, who was sonic yards in the rear, stood before him, I and pointing a pistol at the young man's brea>t., said in ti voice of quiet determination : ] " Young man. will you surrender, and come quietly with tne ?" Tiie only answer vouchsafed bv the gallant ■ young smuggler, was a rapid thrust at the officer, who as quickly parried it with his cut lass, and saying, " \ our blood be upon your ; own head !' —fired. Harry Brown bounded high up in the air and fell on his face, at Gilbert's feet, stark dead, with a bullet through his heart. The neighbors hearing the report, rushed out with lights to the seen?', and there found Gilbert standing, with a pistol in one hand and a sword in the other. Fvon his iron heart \ relented, and his eyes grew dim as the child less mother flung herself upon the body of the i dead boy, aud poured forth her lament over i him, in all the wild eloquence of sorrow. Atid Harry Brown shortly after was borne ! to the churchyard, and buried under the gray wall looking seaward ; and every day for three wretched months did his heart broken mother i come to sit upon Iter child's grave, to mourn, ! like llachel of old, refusing to lie comforted. Her mind, which had never been strong, gave way at last, and in six "months from liel* | sou's death reason fled forever. She went to , reside with a relative of her husband's as a ' hopeless idiot. She was very quiet and per- j feetlv inoffensive, and spent long hours each day in sitting on the brow of the elift", looking over the sea, asking every passer by " if be (meaning her husband) had come back yet V' One morning they missed her from her ac customed seat on the cliff. They feared at first that she had fallen over into the sea, till ; some villager said that Ive had seen Iter enter ing the churchyard ; there, by her son's grave, with her anus peacefully folded over her breast lay poor Mrs. Brown as though asleep—lying them dead in the bright sunshine, by her boy's grave. And Brown "m his convict home, thousands of miles away, heard these things hy a letter from his friends who lived in England. Five years had passed since the events I have just narrated, when John Brown, who, by his good conduct, had obtained a ticket of leave, and had amassed, by honest industry, a good sum of money in the colony, whither in pursuance of his sentence, he had been sent, escaped to England. Time and sorrow had 1 altered the once dashing smuggler into a care worn man, with hard lines on his brow, and grizzled locks, and a face so sadly changed, that lie had small cause to fear recognition in his native place where many of his old friends were dead and gone. He felt he might safe ly pay a visit to the scene where he had spent his fiery boyhood—where he had wooed and won his poor lo>t Kate. One wild night in November the escaped convict sat on the oaken settle by the fir-side of " The Fortune of War," in —. at ivrrn where he and his rollicking companions oi " lung syne " had spent many a jovial hour, and while silently smoking his pipe, and listen ing to the conversation of a few sailors vvll.• were spending their evening tirere, he heard the following conversation : " Aye it is about twenty-five years ago sine young Jack Brown was taken by that infernal Gilbert. I remember Jack well—as brave a lad as ever ' ran in ' a tub of brandy under von ier cliff. I wonder if he is still in foreign parts, poor lad." *' Ah," said the other, "it is well for Gil bert that Jack is a few thousand miles away, over the herring pond, or I fancy some fi. e morning we might see George Gilbert with a slit in his wizen, for I've heard 'em tell as how Jack swore in a letter he wrote, when he heard from a friend here of his boy's death, that he would have his revenge—though lie waited long years, and came back tliousaiids of miles over the sea to take it." " Aye, lad ; and Jack Brown will keep his oath some day or other—depend oti it." Thus talked they. It was evident they had i forgotten him of whom they spoke. Brown said nothing ; but ever and anon they could see a grim smile curl his lip, as the foreliglit played over his weather beaten f.n-e. At last one of the sailors, tinning to the stranger, said : " Well, my hearty, you seem to take inter est i t our talk ; did vuu know aught of poor Jack T " I did," replied the stranger, laconically ; " but let me ask in turn what has become of Gilbert V " He is at -, some ten miles from this place," was the answer ; when the stran ger rose, called for his reckoning and glasses round, and bade them good night. This was the last time that John Brown saw his native place again after a long absence. ****** The next night, in a miserable inn at the town where Gilbert was now stationed, a pre ventive man and a tall, muscular stranger in sea-faring dress, were in close conversation over their grog Tliey talked of local mat ters in general atul smuggling in particular. " Oh 1" said the preventive man, " there's not much chance of our making much by sei zures now—there are so few to mike, since Mr. Gilbert came here. A mighty clever offi cer is he too, i can tell you tliar. Did you ever hour the story of his taking Jack Brown, : the most out-and-out smuggler along this coast some live-aml-tweiity years ago T' Tim stranger replied that lie had not, and listened patiently to the man's yarn, in which tiie real facts were magnified by his vivid imagination to such an extent that the stran ger eonld hardly repress a smile at times. " He must be getting an elderly mui, this Mr. Gilbert 7" '• I should think a few years older than you —■tint then one is apt to be deceived ; for he is a gloomy man, and that may make liitn look older." " 1 was at school with him ; that makes me ask," added the stranger. " i should hke to see him again." " That you can easily do," was the reply ; " lie is the keenest officer the King has here about?, and any one can see him going his rounds any night along yonder cliffs, between nine and ten o'clock." And so the two shook hands and then parted. It was a dark night *, the moon was vainly struggling through the wilderness of clouds as the stranger walked out at the inn door, turn ed on his heel, and slowly sauntered off in the direction indicated by his late companion.— lie had not walked a quarter of a mile in the darkness before he heard the sound of ap proaching footsteps, and a deep, stern voice a ked, " Who goes there ?" " (tne you know well," was the unsatisfac tory answer. " Honest men are not ashamed of their names, and I suspect tli it you are after no good." At this moment the moon shone out from a cloud on the two men, when Brown shouting " (filbert do you know me nmv—Jack Brown, lite convict T' sprang at the officer like a ti ger, before cutlass could be unsheathed or pis tol drawn, grasped his throat and falling with him to the ground, knelt on his prostrate foe. For a few moments, stunned by the fail the officer lay perfectly still ; but shortly, recover ing his faculties, he writhed desperately, in his assailant's grasp. Though a brave man and o.ie who felt that his life depended on hi.s e.*- I ertions, after a few vigorous, but abortive ef- i f irts to free himself from his position ou the > ground or to clutch his pistols, he found him self utterly powerless in the bauds of ouepuw- j erful as John Brown—for lie it was. Tightening his grasp on Gilbert's throat, * Brown contrived with the other hand to take both pistols from his enemy's belt, and laid tlietn cm the grass beyond his reach, Gilbert summoning hi- strength for another effort well nigh succeeded in hurling Brown backward, . and drawing bis weapon from his scabbard. I t/uiek as lightning the convict recovered one of the pistols, cocked it. and presented it ; close to Gilbert's temple, bade him be still, or ' —accompanied by a fierce oath —he would scatter his bruins on ihe turf. The revenue officer, though a bad man, was a brave one, yet it had required something more than ra tional bravery to disobey the command in such a situation. Giibert was still waiting a better oppottunity for resistance. He eoulJ not call i for help—for Brown had assured him that if i he attempted his cry would be followed by a shot. Suddenly the idea flashed th ough hi> mind that Brown who seemed in no hurry to harm him might, on his return to England be short of money, and have had reeoar c to high way robbery for subsistence. " If robbery bo your object," gasp d Gil bert as well as he was able, for t m convict's hand clasped his throat—" take all I have— I vvi 1 give it you unhesitatingly' Tiie reply was a:i oath—a tighter squeeze- -itid " 1 tun no thief, George Gilbert. 1 swore I would take a lieavv revenge for rev toj's 'laughter 1 wdl Mow vou; h; out a- vo r,. xviii. —no. 4.1. 1 clearly might ; firstly, because the shot would bring your men upon ine, and secondly, because —" " You surely would not murder me unarm ed " said Gilbert, with a cold sweat breaking out at every pore. Loosening his hold for an instant, Brown drew the cutlass from the officer's scablmrd, and hurled it over the cliff ; thCu securing the pistols in his vest, he leapt to his feet—ait example speedily fallowed by Gilbert who, wll lireast heaving and eye glaring like a ti ger's at bay. was preparing to dash at his foe, and escape or die at once. Drawing a pistol once more, Brown said—• " Gilbert, 1 strove to have my revenge for my murdered son. 1 will not slay you nnurin -1 ed—be this a token "—and he threw one pis |t ;1 froiu hint over the cliff—" but tiie of us must perish tonight. I will give you a last chance for your life—because villain though you are. you were once my dearest friend." So saying be hurled the second pistol a r ter the first, and extending his arms, lie shouted —"Come on ! There is a fall of eighty feet beneath ns, your life or mine to-night V' Tiien ensued a deadly struggle between the>e two bitter foes—bith were strong men and expert wrestlers, as all men in the West coun try are ; but a looker-on would soon have seen that Gilbert could cot hoM out long against the herculean strength of his antago nist. After a short struggle, in which neither gain ed any positive advantage over the other, they paused for breath ; and, as the moon g earn ed down on them, they gazed into each othethf eyes with a settled glare of hatred only to be (f.el led by death. Pippping suddenly upon one knee, i i a manner well known to all wrest lers, Brown with a terrific effort of liis giant strength, hurled Gilbert over his shoulder- They were both upon the very brink of the cliff ; the wretched linn fell down ten ft*t. when lie hung desperately to some bushes which grew upon the precipice. lli> iju'iiul :in antagonist looked down upon liitu for some moments in silence—but no thought of pity influenced him in that evil hour. Bv a desperate effort Gilbert has succeeded in gaining a temporary resting place for one of his feet upon a stone that projected from the cliff, and battling strongly for his life when Brown, who was looking over the cliff's brow muttered hoarsely : " Though you showed no mercy to me and mine, I would not destroy body And soul to gether. I give you live minutes to make your peace with God," and seizing a branch he slow ly desceued and bent it down with those iron hands of his, till Gilbert could grasp it. I know m>t what may have been tire thoughts o'f that proud stern man, as he hung by that Trail branch between time and eternity—perhaps for a moment a thought of repentance flashed through his mind—but the old spirit broke forth at last. " Brown," he cried " you robbed me of Lcr I loved—you arc now about to in order me— a dying man's curse is yours to-night." Brown deseednded a foot lower—drew his knife—and severed a branch. There was a wild cry—a fearful crash—then all was still. The tide was running in ; the tall rocks below received the miserable Gilbert in his fall. And as tfai moon shone down upon the ashy face of the murderer, her beams revealed to his horror e ricken sight a mangled corpse. Brown fled. Next morning, the revenue of ficer's body was found by a fisherman washed high and dry by the tide into a fissure of cliff. Tiie brow of the cliff above presented marks of a fearful struggle—but u coroner's inquest re turned an open verdict—and, beyond vague surmise nothing further was known how George Gilbert met with Lis death. Years after these events, an old man was knocked down by a cart in one of our seaport towns, and taken to the hospital, where ho soon lay at the point of death. A clergyman was sent for ; to whom the dying man confess-, ed all that I have told and died. That man was. John Brown. " Yor H AVKX'T' HAVE Yor ?"—While in a store, the other day, we saw a neat-looking old lady enter, with a basket on her arm and spec tacles on her nose, looking for all the world, as if die had po| p d out of a band box,so clean and tillv was she. She stepped up to the coun ter, and th- following dialouge took place be tween her and the clerk : Old Lady—" \r, she turned around and said ia the way of a final elencher : " Yon' e not in any ways riled, I reckon, are you?" ftsT" A woman of a sitiric turn of mind i nskul by her friends if she really intended t marry Mr. , adding, that Mr. vas a good kind of a man, but so very singular.— " Well," rej lied the lady, " so much tlm bet ter ; if ha is very much unlike other men, ho is more likulv to make a goo 1 husband '' The fii.st camp meeting in the T~n"l°l States was held in Kotuiky fifty-four years ago. Methodists, I'reshyt'rir san I Bij/otu I'ifdiaio 'l'lil.fl 'Hi ti.yr I;; ~^l