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 <rf a ruined father,
I hau, some fools aid, talent, and I would,
for your sake, have made a place for us in the
world—and then think of all I have suffered
—think of what I am—the detested revenue
spy. Think of the struggle that must have
been here, where a heart once was, ere love I
was turned to undying hate like mine, aud
then ask yourself if there can be any mercy 1
for you, at the hands of a man like me ?"
She aiiswt r> >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—" \<m haven't any butter, have
you ?"
Clerk —" Yes, ma'am, some nice agd fresh
just received."
<*ld Lady—-" You don't sol! it at twenty five
cents yet, do yon?"
Clerk—"That's our price, madam."
Old Lady—" You couldn't let roe have a
couple of pounds, could you ?"
Clerk—"Oh, certainly." Taking the plato
b- weighed out the butter and she threw down
a half dollar, which he scrutinized closely.
Oi l Lady—" You don't think that's bad,
do you?"
Cli-rfc--"Yes, ma'am, I do."
Old Lady (nneh excited) —" You Wouldn't
take this truck back again, would you."
Clerk—" How do you know I wouldn't ?"
and taking the butter, he dashed it buck into
the firkin. The old lady seized t lie plate and
the bogus half, and started to leave, but when
she got to the do<>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