Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, March 03, 1859, Image 1
(£ DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOAVANDA: Thursday Morning, March 3, 1859. jStlccftb |Joctrn. [From the Atlantic Monthly, for February.] THE PALM AND THE PINE. BY BAYAHD TAYLOR. When Peter led the tirst Crusade, A Norseman wood an Arab maid. He loved her lithe and palmy jjrace. And the dark beauty of her face. She loved his cheeks, so ruddy lair, His sunav eyes and yellow hair. He called—she left her father's tent ; She followed whereso'er he went. She left the palms in Palestine To -it beneath the Norland pine. She sans the musky Orient strains Where Winter swept the spowy plains. Their natnres met like night and morn, What tune the morning star is born. The child that, from their meeting grew Hung, like a star, between the two. Th<' glossy night his mother shed From her long hair was on his head ; But in its shade they saw arise The morning of his father's eyes. Rcneath the tawny Orient's stain Wandered the Norseman's crimson vein ; Beneath the Northern force was seen The Arab sense, alert and keen. His were the Viking's sinewy hands, The arching foot of Eastern land?. And in his soul conflicting strove N rlhern indifference. Southern love ; The chastity of temperate Mood, Impetuous passion's fiery fiood ; The settled faith that nothing shakes, The jealousy a breath awake* : The planning Reason's sober gaxe. And Fancy's meteoric blare. And stronger, as he grew to man. i ,e contradicting natures ran, — As -.tingled streams from .Etna flow. One born of fire, and one of snow, And one impelled, and one withheld, And one obeyed, and one rebelled. One gave him force, the other fire ; T!ii -elf-control, and that desire. One filled his heart with fierce unrest ; With peace serene the other blessed. He knew the depth and knew the height. The bounds of darkness and of light; Ars'. who these far extremes has een. V *t needs know all that lies between. So. n ith untaught, instinctive art. He read the myriad-natured heart. He tnrt the men of many a land : They gave their souls into his hand ; Aid none of them was long unknown : The hardest k ssou wa< his own. Hut how he lived, and where ami wi.v a. It matters not to other men ; For, as a fountain disappears, To pish again in latter years, So nature lost *ra>n may rise After a lap* of centuries.— May track the hidden course of Mood, Through many a generation's fiood. Till, on some unsuspected field. The- latent lineage is revealed. The hearts that met in Palestine. A:ni mingled neath the Norland pine. Still beat with doubie pulse 111 mine. Stlutri C a 11. THE HANGING GUEST. A RUSSIAN STORY. It is a grand discovery of our days, and one that his furnished the material for many a dis i.uguis'ued author's renown, that Dothingin the * rid is mote interesting, admirable, dignified, and edify inc. than the life of a respectable rob ber The jail is your only palace of romance ; b'xd is the lemonade of modern literature. We Ri" ans mast not remain behind the age. we &o have onr tales of robbers. If we would so*, appear in the eyes of all civilized Europe is a people utterly devoid of alt culture aud taste. For the honor of our country, there- I will for once constrain myself to con form to the fashion of the day ; but on condi .as t'..at it shall be for the first and last time asv life, ar.d that no one shall, a second demand such a sacrifice of me. I will re ■i*.e a simple anecdote, which I had from per of undoubted veracity, and who. more hi! an exeelleut way of tell a-story. It is c " : at made a impression upon me. as &r - stance of the marvelous ways of Divine Justice. Two verts from— Ore condition more. Yon mn*t allow me to ?* 2*e rone of vonr virtuous sort. ! tell my oo'y for the amusement of my readers, P*-hap* t also, for their instruction, but by no ~"ar* for the jwtrpose of acquiring for myself '- re; atatioa of a philosopher of the " young tfk\n of literature ; moreover, 1 rather pride - > ** on not being able to comprehend their pb.asophy. 1 *o versts from W a, upon an eminence freiwegn a wood, a morass, and a river, at some from the high road, stands a wooden '-'.ry Louse, with a green and antiquated Here usually throughout the summer, sometimes, too, in autumn, resides Ganrila P., a retired captain, and at district justice, a ury worthy man, as *■ strict justices in the W a depart- Eg t one Sanday morning. ia the month of s 7 c ° : . his worship. Gauri'.a Michailo *--h h.s honored ady, Parksovya Yego- THE BRADFORD REPORTER. rovan, set off for the city, in a britschka, to transact some business, viz : to go to church, to drink with his reverence and protopope, to eat and be convival with the district attorney, to hear the towu news from the commandant's lady, to read the St. Petersburg papers at the district treasurer's, and to play at boston at : i the governor's. Scarcely had the master and mistress driven from their door, when all the servants followed their example, and quitted the house. The butler weut to see his cousiu in the village ; the cook betook himself to the public-house to drink brandy ; the coukmaid to the river to catch crayfish ; Procher and Daria went nutting to the wood ; Vaska and Natasha strayed to the heath to gather cran berries, Ac., ; Duna alone remained in the house. Duna, the pearl of the whole W a department, fair as a lilly, fresh as a rose, graceful as a cedar, a sprightly, virtuous dam sel ; by her calling a honse-maid ; by her na tural good qualities, the favorite of her mis tress, the grand object of her frequent visits of the master of the house to the woman's apart ments. the victim of an inordinate propensity of the district clerks for kissing, the goddess for whose sake the governor's valet—who, like herself, had been brought up in the great world in the Xeeska Prospective—neglected the polishing of his master's boots, to the great scandal and indignation of the whole pro vincial administration ; none bnt he could ap preciate her feelings ; none but she could duly estimate the grace of his deportment. They mutually adored each other, as only hearts can adore that have taken fire by the Kasan Bridge in St. Petersburg, and they were as happy as none can be but in the country. Girls shut up in a house by themselves are always afraid of thieves. Dana, therefore, carefully fastened the outer doors, and to avoid thinking of thieves, she went to look at her self in the glass, while she waited for the valet, whom she had given to understand that her master and mistress were to spend the whole day in the town. In the pleasantest possible mood, Duna arranged her curls, set her neck erchief in order, tightened her girdle, and hum- - med a tune, when suddenly there was a gentle , tap at the door. " That is he I" and like an arrow she flew aud opened the door aud let him in. "Ah I it is not he !"' " I am y- ur man,'', replied a deep hnsky voice, as there cautiously entered through the open door a biir-built fellow, in a tattered frieze cloak and faded cap, with a swarthy face much in want of the barber's office, terribly foxy moustaches, and a dusky red nose, and a scar let forehead, biue lips, ami bloodthirsty eyes : the very type of the chairman of a city pot house, or one of those diabolical figures that are only to be seen in Salvator Rosa's paint ings The astonished Duna recoiled some steps, and repeated with a sigh fr<Mu the bottom of! her heart :"It is uot he !" Meanwhile the 1 stranger had stepped in, and with the utmost coolness closed the door again, locked it, aud put the key iu his pocket. " What do you waut ? Who are you ?" cried Duna. " Why do you put the key in your pocket ?" j " " Don't be alarmed, my little dear," he said smiling. "I am come to pay you a visit. The time most have hung heavy on your hands, ah : alone here." " Not at all. Rut what do yon mean by pocketing the key?" Instead of answering, he went up to her, and patted her oa the check She sprang : from him. " Why do you lock the door ! Give me the key. or I will cry out." " That will do you no good. I know very well there is no one in the house " " A pretty thing indeed ! Come in, without " With your leave." or, " lly your leave." and lock the door as if you were iu your own house." " I a!way* lock the door when I have the luck to be alone with so pretty a girl a* yon. niv angel !" ami once more he patted her on the check with his coarse, dirty ha:.J. The angry Dana retreated into a comer. " Rut who are yon ? It is very unhandsome, so it is. to make fun of a girl, aud tease her so without any acquaintance." '• I never visit acquaintances," he replied, with an altered look, aud a toue that froze the poor girl'* blood. In every antechamber and chaneery office Duna bore the reputation of a girl of spirit. £!ie ; was no easy conquest. Many a prosnmptnous clerk had felt the print of her nails in his face to that degree that he was not Ilk.lr to forget it. though he should live to be a master in chancery. Duna, in fact, did honor to the vir tue of St. Petersburg. Rut a bashfulpcoriac ai chaneery cierk, with his inky fingers, is a trifle to a girl who has been brought up in the best milliner's shop in the Xeeska Prospective; an unshaved. broad-shouldered. ugly vagabond, in a frieze cloak, with red moustaches and a vio let nose, is ad-fferent sort of thing, and enough to frighten anvbodv. Duna Iegan to cry. " Don't cry my little dock ! I won't do you any harm," he said, in a softer tone as he drew near ber. Now, this softer tone alarmed her even more, and she iu voluntarily stretched out her anns to keep him off '• Who are yoa, I *ay ?" she cried, in despair, but with au assumption of courage, with a fire, that was gradually extinguished by her gush- j ing tears. " You skail teii me on the spot who ' von are " " Who am I V " Yes. who are you ? Your calling ? Your name?"' "I am a thief." 44 A thief I" she echoed, faltering'*, turning as white as snow. " 1 am a thief by name, aud a robber by sta tion." be said, with a suiiie, and looking tcn deriy into her blue eyes ; but the smile oo bis face resembled tbe gbasiiy glimmering of the moon ou the foui waters of the morass. This is ithe approved style iu robber's tales, so you see there WAS no joke in the matter : alter such a i phrase all sorts of horrors may be expected *' Duna was terrified "not at the phrase, but at the stale, and a eold tremor ran through her frame, but seeing that ber visitor wis cawing PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. sport of her uneasiness, she rallied herself a little, and cried out hurriedly but with a trem ulous voice : " A rubber ! Poh ! what a horrid life." " Every man to his calling. I had another one ; but now, I say, my pretty lass, give mc : something to eat. I have not put a bit in my mouth these three days. We will breakfast together, and then " With a sudden gesture be threw his arms around her neck to kiss her. The sight of his bristly chin and formidable moustaches charg ing so fiercely upon her, the sight of his ugly red nose that nearly touched her cheek, put | her iu a downright passion ; aud with the ; strength that makes heroes of great use in mo ments of extreme peril, she pushed the auda cious fellow back. "Hands off if you please, Mr. Robber! J would thank not to frighten me for nothing. I know what you are come for." "You kuow, do you? Well, what is it, then ?" "Oh ! I know very well ; bnt allow me to tell you it is a very great shame. 1 will have you up for it. Give me back the key this moment, and be off." " Some breakfast," growled the stranger. ! " I have no breakfast for you ; there is nothing to eat in the whole house. Go break fast in the public house, if you have a mind. By the same token, you smell of brandy enough to knock rae backwards ; I dare say you have made a very good breakfast al ready." " What ! nothing to eat ?" he muttered, knitting his brow, and bending a piercing glance on the girl as he put his right hand down towards his boot. "Do you see thi.*?'" said he, showing her a broad-bladed knife, with small black speckles, traces of recently shed blood he had somewhere hastily wiped off on the grass. " I have no time to joke with you." Poor Duna stared with open eyes, and and seemed petrified by his basilisk glances. " Breakfast!" he shouted. " Immediately !" " Be quick : I have no time to lose." " Take whatever you please : there is some roast meat of yesterday in the cupboard, and some brandy." " Show me into the parlor, and put everv thinsr vou have trot on the table, and stirvour self " Pale and bewildered, she tottered to the cup board in the ante-chamber. He stuck the knife in his boot, and followed her step by step. Bread, brandy, salt, butter, cheese, and cold roast veal were placed on the same table where the proprietors of the house had recently break fasted before setting off for the town. He seat ed himself, seized Dana's arm, and forced her down beside him. " Well, I say." said he. bolting the tat veal with ravenous voracity. ' and squinting sideways at hi* companion, " 1 gave you a jolly start, didn't I ?" " I believe you did ! I wonder who would ; not be frightened so ?" " Yon did wrong to stand out against me. If yon had done what I wanted at once your hea l tli. Drink a little drop to keep me com pany." " I never touch brandy." " That's a pity; it's capital bran !y. What's your name !" " Catharina Nicola." " Tnat's a lie," he said, with his mouth full, aud scowling ou her ; " 1 know your name is Avdotya Yeremeyevna.'' " Then why do you ask. if yon know ?"' "To try your candor, Capital brandy, ti be sure ; is there any more of it ?" " There's "nother bottle in the cupboard." " Have the goodness to bring it here." '■ There it is.*' " Thank yoa. By yonr leave I'll give yon a kiss for it." Duna no longer dared to re-l-t : she submit ted with the best grace she could to the rude kiss, contenting herself with wiping the place where his sharp beard had scratched her soft skin till it had almost bled. " To let you see that 1 am un to a thing or two," i.e went on, after he had gulped hi* third gia-s of brandy. " I will teil yoa that a clerk brought your master 1,500 roubles yes terday from Ivanovitch F, whose case was brought last week before the district court. I> uot that true T" " May be so." '• Weil, where does your maater keep Lis money V " ReaHy, I do not kuow." " But 1 do : we shall soon find it Avdotya Yeremeyevna. my pet. my darling !" " What is your pleasure?" " I wish, my love, y> a would be sociable."' Poor Duna was forced to make a show of being sociable. The guest was in the happiest humor : he laughed and joke I with her. Duna gradually forgot her terrors, grew bolder, de feated nerseif becomingly, nay, laughed aloud, and endeavored to disguise her intense anxiety under a show of cheerfulness, while in secret she prayed fervently to heaven that the red uoscti guest might soon eat and drink his fill, and take his leave, and the incomparable Ivan might soon arrive to i . jemaifj her sensitive : heart for this fearful torment. Ala*! Ivan who had got ieave from the gov ernor left the town.and sped with hn*tv steps, and with a heart brim-fuii of tenderness and hope, to meet her. He walked not. he flew.— Cupid had fasteucd his own wiugs to h s boots. 'He flew like an arrow. But on his way !ay a ; brandv shop; there is no road without them He wonld have fi j*n by it ; bo: in the brandy shop were his acquaintances his beloved friend- He made a halt with them for a moment, only a moment ; and got tipsy with them It hap ' pened quite against h ; s will : he was in despair at it. Altogether, it was one of the most me • morabie vicU-riea ever achieved by Frieodsh p j over Love. Meanwhile the ugly vagabond had emptied . his sixth of brandy. At the seventh he gTe* priwtre. parsed his brows, Bn d bit his hps *asif a pang shot through bis vitals; a darx ! shadow pjAsed like a ciood over his counte : nance ; judden'y he sprang from h;s scat, aad i without iaieudiug it, poshed so strong'.y agaius; " RERARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." his companion, that she almost fell between his feet. He looked aronud uneasily, took the brandy bottle, the bread, and a piece of meat from the table, put them all Into the fathom less pockets of his cloak, and said : " Thank you for bread and salt—your hospitality.— Gaurila Michailovich keeps his money in his secretary, eh ? Why don't you speak ? Yon see I am not such a bad fellow as you thought at first, my pretty chick. 1 love you—l love you so much Just tell ine what sort of death you would like best to die. Shall I cut off your head, eh? Or would you rather I should hang yoa—from that beam, for instance. Don't be afraid, only say what yon would like best, charming I)una." " What pleasure can you take in plaguing me so cruelly ?" said Duna, not crediting that the ugly jester with the red nose could be in earnest. " Why don't yon answer T' he said, examin ing the secretary and the lock. " I should be glad to know—Whether you—would rather— be hanged, or—O ho ! Gauerial Michailvitch keeps his money under two locks, does h° ? I Stay a bit ; it is not the first we have coaxed open." So saying he took un iron instrument | out of his pocket, and immediately began to use it upon the lock. Duna stooJ as if spell bound in the middle of the room, trembling in all her frame. "Well, what is it then ? i oat, Avdotya Geremeyevna. Can't you make |up your mind ? Hang the lock ! Avdotya Yeremeyevna, I wait your answer, my precious. Tliis is the strongest lock I've seen this many a day. Will you speak or not." The secretary burst open with a crash. " Wuoo ! What a lot of fine things ! Bank notes, aud ducats, watches ! They don't go; spoiled most likely. A ring? I don't want it. "0!i I'll take these diamonds. Are these all crumbs of officer ?" Chatting in ibis fashion with himself and with Duna, he crammed his pockets with money and watches, and then turned abruptly to the half dead girl. " Well, my love, your choice? Waste no time ; but tell me, what death will you die ?" " Well I'm sure ! Ar'nt you ashamed, sir ? It is a very ugly joke this." " I atn not joking at all, ray sweet one." j " What have I done to you ? You have taken whatever you pleased ; I did not hinder you " ' That's very true ; bnt do you see, I can't abide leaving eye-witness behind me ; I wash my hands of them by all means. With others I don't stand on ceremony ; bnt as yon, my love, are such a nice good matured amiable lit tie dear. I wiil give you your choice of death. I love politeness : 1 too have been brought up in St. I'eters'nurgh." Still she would not believe that he was in earnest. " Now then, let's have it at once : I have no time to lose. Let us put compliments aside. lam extremly sorry, but you must die by my baud. I aui not going to be such a fool as to let you live, to tell what sort of moustaches, eyes, no*e. clothes, Ac . I have got ; —what I did here, and which way 1 went Now, Advotva Yereuievevna, auswer quickly." Every word of hir cold-blooded torturer was • a dagger stroke to her : her whole blood, all the warm current of her life, curdled ba.-k up on her heart ; her limbs grew icy cold, and floods of tears poured over her inaoiui ite face. She tottered aud feil to the floor. Iu her fail she caught the robber's foot, and k.—ed it.— "Have mercy on me!" she shrieked. "O 1 *pare my life, I implore you ! I swear to you before the Holy Virgin, I will not say a sylla ble to any one. May 1 never see heaven if I do ! For the sake of the blessed St. Nicholas —have compassion on me ! I will pray a'.! ray life for you as for my own father, my broth er—" The inexorable miscreant shook her efffrom his foot, kicking her iu the brea*t. Ia vain .-he rai.-ed her imploring looks and arras towards him : in vain she sought to touch hi> stony heart with all that intense despair, and the dinging love for a vonthfnl, joyous existence, could oreathe into the words, the voice and the tears of a helples? being. The vidian, har der than granite, grew every moment more crael and savage. Raging with impatience, he caught her* by the hair, forced back her head, drew his knife from his boot, aud was about to plunge it in her throat. " Oh. oh ! for the love of heaven !" sobbed the unfortunate girl, beside her-e fat the sight of the terrible kuife : "hang me—hang me ! No bloody death ! Mercy !—merer ! Hang me ratlier !" " Ay. ay," he said, with a hideous gria ; "so you can speak at la*:. Why did you not say *o at ooce ? I have lost a deal of time already ; still I can't refo-e yon the fav.->r : vou arc -mh a nice girl ! Don't be afraid. Daaa ! You shall die in the pleasantest man ner. It is an ugiy death that of the k: ife.— If I might choose myself I would rati, r be hanged than krioute-1. when n.y time comes. We will look abont for a cord." The wretched girl, powerless in mind and body through terror, cold as ice. trembiing and almost lifeless, submitting to ail his com mands. The rope was soon found, and the murderer returned with hi* victim to the same room where the remains of the breakfast stiii stood upon the table. He threatened to kill her instantly if she stirred from the spot w here she stood—placed a chair ou the table—and sprang nimbly upon it. Having fastened the rope round the bentn. he drew the knife from his toot, cut off the projecting part of the rope, stuck the knife into the be-im. and set about making a doubie running knot oa the rope. Duna stood motionless in the middle of the room ; heat aad cold rushed alternately through her frame : spark* of sre danced be fore her eyes ; she saw nothing ; she did noth ing but pray, confess her sins, commend her self to ail the saints, and mentally bid fare well to all that was dear to her in life. " Presently, presently, my precious I" said the murderer, going on with his work ; " you shall see how nicely I will hang yon. I aa WK a new hand a; tbe job Do you see now ! j all is ready ; ooly we try whether tne ;" rope Is strong enough. 1 would not for tue world you should full to the ground and break your ribs. It is for your interest and my own that—Draw the chair away from under my feet." Duna unconsciously went up to the table, and drew away the chair, whilst the robber held the rope fast in both hands, having slip ped it over one urm np to the elbow to con vince himself of its strength by swinging ou it with the whole weight of his body. " Push the table aside." Duua did so. "All right; it is a capital rope; it will bear more than you—you and me together " He now let go the rope, intending to jump to the ground. Apparently it was his pur pose to startle the poor gil l by the bold and sndden leap ; but the noose intended for her glided along his arm, caught him fast by the wrist. Puna's executioner had, iu fact, hang ( ed himself by the hand. Though experiencing the most acute pain, he wished to conceal his critical posi'ion fruin the girl, that she might not avail herself of it to escape. He tried to reach the imprisoned hand with his left ; bnt the weight of his bo dy prevented his bringing his shoulders paral lel. Suddenly he began to whirl and fling himself wildly through the air, hoping the rope would snap : but in vain ! if he had but the knife iu his boot, he might have severed it, <>r, at the worst, have cnt off his hand, and saved himself by flight. But unluckily for him. the kuife was sticking in the beam. How was he to get at it ? He thought of one means—a desperate one —the last He collected a!! his strength, to <hnke the knife out with a powerful spring.— The effort tailed. The weight of his heavy frame dangling in the air by one hand only, his violent efforts, the pressure of the tight-drawn knot, occasion ed the villain intense torture : the joints of his urm cracked aud began to part ; the blood oozed out umh r the rope from the lacerated skin, and trickled into the sleeve of lii.s d ak ; while that of tlie rest of hi- frame rushed from the extremities to his head Every moment it seemed as if the hand would be torn off He even wished that it might. His anxiety lest the people of the houae should return ; hi* ; dread of being taken iu this predicament ; im ; patience, rage ; the thought of hi* misdeeds ; of his punishment: all his guilty life : all this pos*e*sed his tumoltuons imagination, and brought his dark soul to despair. Cold sweat broke from his forehead. In spite of hi* ti ger-like endarance, a cry uf agony burst at last from his iron bosom. Duna. petrified, and thinking only of death, had hitherto looked on in idiotic indifference For a long time she did not under-taud what he was doing, and made no attempt to under hand it. .True, she was still standing upright like a living thing, hut living *he was not.--- The involuntary cry of the murderer waked her. however, from her trance. She saw him bleeding, as if it were half a dream ; she saw blood on the floor, a hideous gaping mouth, with great misshaped teeth, red fiery eyes start ing their socket*; he read his anguish in hi* ghatlv distorted features, and guessed at last what had happened. Hope animated her : be began to think of deliverance. " Avdotya, posh the table nearer," said the rvbber. in altered, but srill har-li an 1 com ■Sliding accents, that terrified her ngn : n. and compeii- d her to blind obedience. Once more - ie I >-: her presence of mind, aud pushed tin corner of the table toward* hiui. The villain reached it with f he toes of one foot ;he rais ed himself up a few inches It was f.>r bm a moment of heavenly enjoyment Never in hi whole life had he known one like it—not even ufter the most successful murder. His agony was le-< iutokrahle ; he drew brearh again: but hi- left hand which he tried to use to free his right, was benumbed and powerL **. T v e knot, toe, had grown too tight; the reprobate felt he eonld do no more without aid. •"Avdotya Yeremeyevna!—kind friend!— good girl! do me the tavor! jump upon the table; untie my arm—pray do! I will not kill yon : I only meant to frighten you. Oh '. how my head swims !" The miscreant's torture touched the kind hearted girds soul. The feeling of eonpOMHM unfrequeutly extinguishes in woman the thought of their own danger. Tiat woman thinks with her heart, has been *aid thousands of time* since the iuvention of printing. In Dana's bo som compa-sion prevailed over fear, ami sti fled the voice of self-preservation. She sprang upon the table, and labored long and hard at the knot She could not uudo it ! "Do me the favor, sweet, sweet, Duna ! Fetch a knife—em the cursed rope—l am dy iug with pain." T e girl iaraped ff the table and ran to the pantry. Poor creature ! -he little knew th-- return the red-nosed g:c*t was prepared to make for tbe kindne** of fu-r heart. She found a k.afe ; she harried back ; she was on the threshold, whea the table on which the robber had rested hi* foot turned over with a load noise. He had tq -• t it in endeavori: g |to change his feet. Ooce more he was swung with ai! his weight in the3ir. A piereingycll told of the -udden renewal of his former tor tare*. Duna stopped abort a; the do >r. H - I hideously distorted face st;nck her with invol untary horror : she thought it was Satan's own features she beheld. The - ght riveted hrr to the spot where -he *••-.[ : -he *hu iderei. a i dared not move a sre-p forward. ; She looked rouud and say a window o[>en T ,e thong it flashed upon her that >he might ! avail herself of the circumstance. Bat lie suf fers so dreadfully! How frightfully he scream*! The rope rnu-t be cat. Dana advanced a f-w steps. That horrid gaping month ! Dana tottered bacA and mechanically uncoascious of what she did, she rai*cd herself to the window ' Ire'ge, and dropped from it into the conrt-yard. When he wa in t'ae conrt-vard, -he knew no; j what she had done, or what she had to do She had escaped the sight of that feroc;ou -atanic month, bnt not tbe influence of her *or tucctor. He had fi*#c*itated her. He was-till lord of her life. lltr knees trembled, she dar ed not withdraw from tbe window "IU 1 too you'ig ; Je !"* bo* "led the mis i crexct lavage,v ; voj have (i n.? ckrerly.— I'd have sLt your turoat like a eiiicaeiiV' VOL. XIX. NO. 80. | These words nttered in unspeakable agony and despair, suddenly rallied ilie girl's ener gies. She ran to the gate. The master's horrid jest had proved his horrid punishment Could he hav: supposed that he tied the knot for himself? Could he have supposed that that awful moment, in which her foot hung her over the grave, should be the moment of deliverance to the innocent, and of exemplary punishment to the guilty ? Here was the fin ger of Providence. If is everywhere. It is a falsehood to maintain that vice and crime alone prosper in this world She ran, and ran, till her strength was nigh exhausted ; no one was in sight. She ran further ; her breath failed ; her limbs totter ed ; she dared not look round, lest she should again fall into the hands of her persecutor.— Nov here u living soul. Sue struggled up a rising ground. "Ah ! there is our butler, ami there is Vas ka : and Procher. Ah ! he too is with them." He, to wit, the incomparable Ivan, the gov ernor's valet. They were all returning home together from the brandy shop, careless and happy, singing love songs, cracking jokes up on their masters, with their caps set janntily on one side, and tacking along the road in ea sy zig-zags. Duna ran towards them, pale, with staring eyes and flying hair : her neck uncovered—her wits bewildered. " Come along! quick ! quick \" she screamed. "He is hang ing! hanging! hanging!—the villain is hang . ing ! faster! faster !" "Hey, darling little dove of the woods : they all cried to her, with a laugh ; "who is bang ing? Where is he hanging ? Give us a ki--, Dunushka. 'Tis a merry world." " He is hanging I tell yon ! Don't laugh Run to the house. Take forks, hatchets, guns — A thief, a murderer, with great moustaches and a red nose ! He said he would slit mv throat like a chicken's—that he'd hang me I" They hastened their steps, armed themselves as well as they could, broke the house door open and went into the parlor. The robber had fainted ; blood streamed from his mouth and nose : the arm by which he had hung had grown nearly a foot longer. They took hiin down and bound him. After the return of tLe master and mistress of the house, he was conveyed the seine evening to prison, and de livered into the hands of .Justice ! and justico could not Irnt own, with astonishment, that never liii then Lad so loug an arm come before her. Farming as a Vocation. THL life of the farmer has ever been consid ered by himself, one of toil and drudgerv, but with how much reason, it may be well to ask. to investigate, and to become satisfied. It is the lot of man in general to have an occupation. If not necessary for a living, it ismadea means of obtaining wealth, fame, or power. A few, born ti wealth or titles, pursue no calling but that of pleasure. Such lead mi-erable lives, and do little or mgood in the world. It i appointed into a!! men lo work. It is neces sary to health, strength, comfort, and happi ness. Rut to work, it is not necessary to guido the plow or harrow, to wield the axe or scythe, to sow or reap. There are other kinds of work, equally laborious and fatiguing—other uccupa -1 tion- nore wearing to the system, and attend ed w.th ]♦;>> pleasure. In this country, there •ire t:. re men engaged in farming than in any other occupation, and in the rural districts, they constitute a large majority of the inhabi tant-. and. a- a eon-eqaer.ee, see and know lit j tie of the drudgery of other occupations. In their visits to the mechanic, or manufacturer, tbey see him sheltered from the storms and cold, then notice that his -kin is less tawnv, his hands softer and whiter, and his clothes per haps !c<- soiled and torn : and it is but natural that tbey should think his labor less hard than theirs. They sec the merchant behind his counter smiling to his customers, or at hi> de-k counting his money, and tbey cannot think hi war s ; and they go away wishing that Privi ly-nee had been a- kind to them Thev see the lawyer advocating the cause of his client, uttering with eloquence witty or crave sfnten ees, bringing tear- to the eyes, or laughter to the countenances, of judge, jury, and spectators - j and they go away, repining that the gifts of Providence ares partially be-'owed. T.;eysco not the mechanic at work by his !amp, while farm- rs are reading by their fire-ides ; they see him n -t with hi acconnts. anxiously looking forward to the time when his payments become | due, or h : s flour barrel empty, or his pork bar re! out : th*y *ee not the anxious and care worn eoßutenance of the merchant, wbile alon* in his office, jut before h ; - bank note becom- s due. and ro money to met it ; and thev see not the lawyer in the stili hours of the night, with aching head and wearied eyes, lo king np au thorities to sustain h'< cause on the eve of trial. It is ft -y lktm*rfrrs—'hf fi< ws —that have set th-* stamp of drudg rj npon their occupa tion. N"o one ehe admit- or believes it. Tho lawyer, the doctor, the merchant, and the mechanic, envy the farm* r his farm and Ids hap; oe-s—his bread, butter, a.nd cheese h|.s fruits, men*-, and his grains, the product of lis own h!>or, that he can eat with an appetite -larpen 1 by muscular exercise, and knowing that they are pure anl healthy. Ask the mechanic what he is -trivir.g for, sad w hat is his aim. fir n h-ymr, a piece of land that I can cultivate. anl eat the fruits of my own ril ing ; the merchant wi'l tell joa that he bops to end fc days upon a farm ; and the lawyer aid doctor will tell you the same. What if th- r faces are blanche ' while the farmer is tawny—their finger- delicate and staple, while the former are dingy and CIU-U-Y— thir gar ments fine and clean, while his are soiled and coarse. Each is appropriate an I equally re spectable A chimoey-sweepjin white linen, or a farmer at bis plow In fine broadcloth, woaM . be an object of ridicule, equally with the lawyer • in rags. >i we men make themselves ridiculous 1 by overdressing th n the reverse. If the far ■ tuer has not delicacy, he has strength, and power of endurance—far more T&iaaUe. If • he is to educated s.iu icfined, it is no fault of bks cnp.' ■ did be h.nisei: not tb.t* v>; far Ino Que more leisure foe reading ana studr.