(HE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA: Thursday Morning, June 9, 1859. jstlctltb [From The Flag of our Union.] ALLAN PERCY BY SYBIL TARK. It was summer when we parted, And the July roses hung From the cottage-roof in clusters, Which the balmy zephyr swung ; While the vinc-leav. s sighed aud fluttered . Very softly overhead, Till a cloud of floating incense From each dewy cup was shed. It was evening, and the glory Of the sunset's parting dye Melted into glowing crimson As it faded from the sky. Long we tarried at the casement, Till the moonbeams, still aud white, Crept downward through the blossoms, In shining waves of light. Then I loved thee, Allan Percy, And 1 treasured every vow, Keeping sacred all the kisses Lightly pressed on lip and brow ! 0 ! I never dreamed that falsehood, Nor a lurking breath of guile, , Could for one brief moment linger 'Neath so sweet a beaming smilo ! lllow should I—false Allan Percy, As I listened to you there, My own heart so young and trusting— Know your vows were light as air ? Thus we parted—and forever! But I waited for you long, When the air was summer-laden. Flushed with beauty, rich with song. 1 have waited, Allen Percy, Such a weary, weary while, That my eyes are heavy weeping, And my lips forgot to smile. Golden summer, purple autumn, They are each alike to me. Bringing only mournful shadows Of my lost, lost love and thee ! Stltthb £ale. [From the Atlantic Monthly.] LOO LOO. A FEW SCENES FROM A TRI E HISTORY. SCENE I. ALFRED NOBI.E had grown up to manhood among the rocks and hills of a New England village. A year spent in Mobile, employed in the duties of a clerk, had not accustomed him to the dull routine of commercial life. He longed for the sound of brooks and the fresh air of the hills. It was, therefore, with great pleasure that he received from his employer a message to be conveyed to a gentleman who ; lived in the pleasantest suburb of the city. It was one of those bright autumnal days when (the earth seems to rejoice cousciously in the light that gives her beauty. Leaving behind him the business quarters of I the town, he passed through pleasant streets bordered with trees, and almost immediately found himself amid scenes clothed with all the freshness of the country. Handsome mansions here and there dotted the landscape, with pret ty little parks, enclosing orange-trees and mag nolias, surrounded with hedges of holly, in whose foliage numerous little foraging "birds were busy in the sunshine. Tne young man looked at these dwellings with an exile's long ing at his heart. He imagined groups of pa rents and children, brothers and sisters, under those sheltering roofs, all strangers to him, an orphan, alone in the world. The pensiveness of his mood gradually gave place to more cheer ful thoughts. Visions of prosperous business i and a happy home rose before hiui, as ho walk ed briskly toward the hill south of the city.— The intervals between the houses increased at length, and he soon found himself in a little j forest of pines. Emerging from this, he came suddenly in sight of an elegant white villa, with colonnaded portico and spacious verandas. He approached it by a path through a grove, the termination of which had grown into the sem- Llauce of a Gothic arch, by the interlacing of two trees, one with glossy evergreen leaves,the other yellow with the tiuts of autumn. Vines , had clambered to the top, and hung in light festoons from the branches. The foliage, flut tering in a gentle breeze, caused successive rip h pies of sun flecks, which chased each other over trunks and boughs, and joined iu way ward dance with the sunshine. Arrested by this unusual combination of light and shade, color and form, the young man stood still for a few moments to gaze upon it. Be was thinking to himself that nothing could add to the perfection of its beauty, when sud | denlv there came dancing under the arch a fig lire that seemed like the fairy of those woods, ! I a spirit of the mosses aud vines. She was a IB child, apparently five or six years old, with j large brown eyes, and a profusion of dark hair. J Her gypsy hat, ornamented with scarlet rib Lous and a garland of red holly-berries, had fallen back on her shoulders, and her cheeks ; j were flushed with exercise. A pretty little I dog was with her, leaping up eagerly for a duster of holly-berries which she playfully shook above his head. She whirled swiftly round and round the frisking animal, ber long I r 'd ribbons flying on the breeze, and then she paused,all aglow,swaying herself back and forth, kc a flower on its stein. A flock of doves, as ■ attracted toward her, enme swooping down the sky, revolving in graceful curves above u r head, their white breasts glistening in the sunshine. The aerial movements of the child Bi> re so full of life and joy, she was so in har moi.y with the golden day, the waving vines, •"•d the circling doves, that the whole scene ,1 '-c'ued like ao allegro movement in'rausic, and it afl cll,iruiing melody floating through I to £to ° d ,ilie ODe cbanted. He feared I i'iak or move, Jest the fairv should vanish THE BRADFORD REPORTER. from mortal presence. So the child and the dog, unconscious of a witness, continued their graceful gambols for several minutes. An old er man might have inwardly moralized on the folly of the animal, aping humanity in thus earnestly striving after what would furnish no nourishment when obtained. But Alfred was too young and too happy to moralize. The present moment was all-sufficient for him, and stood still there in its fulness, unconnected with past or future. This might have lasted long, had not the child been attracted by the dove shadows, and, looking up to watch the flight of the birds, her eyes encountered the young man. A whole heart full of sunshine was in the smile with which he greeted her. But, with a startled look, she turned quickly and ran nway; aud the dog, still full of frolic, went bounding by her side. As Alfred tried to pur sue them, a bough knocked off his hat. TV ith out stopping to regain it. he sprang over a holly-hedge, and came in view of the veranda of a house, just in time to see the fairy and her dog disappear behind a trellis covered with the evergreen foliage of the Cherokee rose.— Conscious of the impropriety of pursuing her farther, he paused to take breath. Ashe pass ed his hand through his hair, tossed into mass es by running against the wind, he heard a voice from the veranda exclaim : " Whither so fast, Loo Loo ? Come here, Loo Loo !" Glancing upward, he saw a partrician-look- I ing gentleman, in a handsome morning gown, of Oriental fashion, and slippers richly embroi dered. He was reclining on a lounge, with wreaths of smoke floating before him ; lint see ing the stranger, he rose, and taking the am ber-tubed cigar from his mouth, he said, half laughingly : " You seem to be in hot haste, Sir. Pray, what have you been hunting ?" Alfred also laughed, as he replied : " I have beeu chasing a charming little girl, who would not be caught. . Perhaps she is your daughter, Sir ?" " She is my daughter," rejoined the gentle man. " A pretty little witch, is she not ? Will you walk in, Sir ?" Alfred thanked - him, and said that he was in search of a Mr. Duncan, whose resideuee was in that neighborhood. " I ain Mr. Duncan," replied the patrician. " Jack, go and fetch the gentleman's hat, and bring cigars." A negro obeyed bis orders, and, after smok ing awhile 011 the veranda, the two gentlemen walked round the grounds. Once when they approached the house, they heard the pattering of little feet, aud Mr.Duu can called out, with tones of fondness : " Come here, Loo Loo ! Come, darling, and see the gentleman who has been running after you !" But the shy little fairy ran all the faster, and Alfred saw nothing but the long red rib bons of her gypsy hat, as they floated behind her on the wind. Declining a polite invitation to dine, lie walked back to the city. The impression on his mind had been so vivid, that, as he walked, there rose before him a vision of that graceful arch with waiving vines, the [undulating flight of the silver-breasted doves, and the airy mo tions of that beautiful child. How would his interest in the scene have deepened, could some sibyl have foretold to him how closely the Fates had interwoven the destinies of himself and that lovely little one ! When he entered the counting-room, lie found his employer in close conversation with Mr. Grossman, a wealthy cotton broker. This man was but little more than thirty years of age, but the predominance of animal propensities was stamped upon his countenance with more distinctness than is usual with sensua'ists of twice his age. The oil of a thousand hams seemed oozing through his pimpled cheeks ; his small gray eyes were set in his head like the eyes of a pig ; his mouth had the impres sion of a satyr ; and his nose seemed perpetu ally sniffing the savory piophecyof food. When i the clerk had delivered his message, lie slap ; ped iiiiu familiarly ou the shoulder, and then said : " So you've been out to Duncan's have you? Pretty nest there at Pine Grove, and they say lie's got a rare bird in it ; but lie keeps her so close, that I could never catch sight of her.— Perhaps you did get a peep, eh ?" " I saw a very beautiful child of Mr. Dun can's," replied Alfred, " but did not see his wife." " That's very likely," rejoined Grossman ; " because lie never had any wife." " He said the little girl was his daughter, and I naturally inferred that he had a wife," replied Alfred. " That don't follow the conrse, my gosling," said the broker. " You're green young man ! You're green ! I swear, I'd give a good deal to get sight of Duncan's wench. She must be devilish handsome, or he wouldn't keep her so close." Alfred Noble had always felt an instinct antipathy towards this man, who was often let ting fall some remark that jarred harshly with his romantic ideas of women—something that seemed to insult the memories of a beloved mother and sister gone to the spirit world.— But he had never liked him less than at this moment; for the sly wink of his eye, aud the expressive leer that accompanied his coarse words, were very disagreeable things to be as sociated with that charming vision of the en circling doves and the innocent child. SCENE 11. TIME passed away, and with it the average share of changing events. Alfred Noble be came a junior partner in the counting house he had entered as clerk, and not long after ward the elder partner died. Left thus to rely upon his own energy and enterprise, the young man gradually extended his business, and seemed in a fair way to realize his favorite dream of making a fortune and returning to the North to marry. The subject of Slavery was then seldom discussed. North and South seemed to have entered into a tacit agreement to ignore the topic completely. Alfred's expe rience was like that of most New Englauders PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH. " REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." in his situation. He was at first annoyed and pained by many of the peculiarities of South ern society, and then became gradually accus tomed to them. But his natural sense of jus tice was very strong ; and this, added to the influence of early education, and strengthened by scenes of petty despotism which he was fre quently compelled to witness, led him to re solve that he would never hold a slave. The colored people in his employ considered him their frieud, because he was always kind and generous to them. He supposed that com prised the whole of duty, aud farther than that lie never reflected upon the subject. The pretty little picture at l'iue Grove,which had made so lively au impression on his imagi nation, faded the more rapidly, because uncon nected with his affections. But a shadowy semblance of it always flitted through his mem ory. whenever he saw u beautiful child, or ob served any unusual combination of trees aud vines. Four years after his interview with Mr. Dun can, business called him to the interior of the State, and for the sake of healthy exercise he chose to make the journey on horseback. His route luy mostly through a monotonous region of sandy plain, covered with pines, here and there varied by patches of cleared land, in which numerous dead trees were prostrate, or stand ing leafless, waiting their liruc to fall. Most of the dwellings were log-houses, but now and then the white villa of some wealthy farmer might be seen gleaming through the evergreens. Sometimes the sandy soil was intersected by veins of swamp, through which muddy water oozed sluggishly, among the bushes aud dead logs. In these damp places flourished dark cypresses and holly trees, draped with gray Spanish moss, twisted around the boughs, and hanging from them like gigantic cobwebs. Now and then, the sombre scene was lighted up with a bit of brilliant color, when a scarlet grosback flitted from branch to branch, or a red headed woodpecker hammered at the trunk of some old tree, to find where the insects had eutreuch ed themselves. But uothing pleased the eye of the traveller so much as the holly-trees, with their glossy evergreen foliage, red berries, and tufls of verdant mistletoe. He had been rid iug all day, when, late in the afternoon, an un commonly beautiful holly appeared to termin ate the road at the bend where it stood. Its boughs were woven in with a cypress 011 the other side, by long tangled fringes of Spanish moss. The setting sun shone brightly aslant the mingled foliage, and lighted tip the red ber lies, which glimmered through the thin drape ry of moss, like the coral ornaments of a hand some brunette seen through her veil of embroi dered lace. It was unlike the woodland picture lie had seen at Pine drove, but it recalled it to his memory more freshly than he had seen it for a long time, lie watched the peculiar ef fects of sunlight, changing as he approached the tree, and the desire grew stronger within him to have the fairy-like child and the frolic some dog make their appearance beneath that swinging canopy of illuminated IIKSS. If his nerves had been in such a state that forms in the mind could have taken outward shape, lie would have realized the vision so distinctly painted 011 his imagination. But he was well and strong ; therefore he saw nothing but a blue heron flapping away among the cypresses, and a flock of turkey-buzzards soaring high above the trees, with easy and graceful flight. His thoughts, however, continued busy with the picture that had been so vividly recalled. He recollected haviiig heard, some time before, of Mr. Duncan's death, and he queried within himself what had become of that beautiful child. Musing thus, he rode under the fantastic fes toons lie had been admiring, and saw at his right a long gentle descent, where a small stream of water glided downward over mossy stones. Trees 011 either side interlaced their boughs over it, and formed a vista, cool, dark, and solemn as the aisle of some old Gothic church. A figurCj moving upward, by the side of the little brook attracted his attention, and he checked his horse to enquire whether the peo ple at the nearest house would entertain a stranger for the night. When the figure ap proached nearer, he saw that it was a slender, bare-footed girl, carrying a pail of water. As he emerged from the dim aisle of trees, a gleam of the setting sun shone ncross her face for an instant, and imparted a luminous glorv to her large brown eyes. Shading them with her hand, she paused timidly before the stranger, and answered his inquires. The modulation of her tones suggested a degree of refinement which he had not expected to meet in that lonely region. He gazed at her so intently, that her eyes sought the ground, und their long dark fringes rested on her blushing cheeks.— What was it those eyes recalled? They tanta lized and eluded his memory " My good girl, tell me what is your name?" he said. " Louisa" she replied, bashfully, and added, " I will show you the way to the house." " Let me carry the water for you," said the kind-hearted traveler. He dismounted for the purpose, but she resisted his importunities, saying that she would be very angry with her. " And who is sheV he asked. "Is she your mother ?" "Oh, no, indeed !" was the hasty reply. " I am—l—l live there." The disclaimer was sudden and earnest, as if the question struck on a wounded nerve.— Her eyes swam with tears, and the remainder of her answer was sad and reluctant in its tones. The child was so delicately formed, so shy and sensitive, so very beantifnl, that she fascinated him strongly. He led his hirse into the lane she had entered, and as he walked by her side he continued to observe her with the most live ly iuterest. Her motions were listless and lan guid, but flexile as a willow. They puzzled him, as her eyes had done ; for they seemed to rcmiud him of something he had seen in a half forgotten dream. They soon came in sight of the bouse, which was bnilt of logs, bat larger than most boases of that description ; and two or three huts in the rear, indicating that the owner possessed slaves An open porch in front wa<> shaded by the projecting roof, aud there two dingy black nosed dogs were growling and tousling each other. Pigs were rooting the ground, and among them rolled a black baby, enveloped in a bundle of dirty rags. The traveler waited while Louisa went into the house to inquire whether entertainment could be furnished for himself aud his horse. It was some time before the proprietor of the establishment made his appearance. At last he came slowly round the end of the house, his hat tipped ou one side, with a rowdyish air.— He was accompanied by a large dog, which rushed in among the pigs, biting their ears and making them squeal piteously. Then he seized hold of the bundle of rags containing the black baby, aud began to drag it over the ground,to the no small astonishment of the baby, who added his screech to the charivari of the pigs. With loud shouts of laughter, Mr. Jackson cheered on the rough animal, and was so uiuch entertained by the scene, that he seenu'd to have forgotteu the traveler entirely. When at last his eye rested upon him, he merely ex claimed, "That's a hell of a dog !" and began to call "staboy" again. The negro womau came and snatched up her babe, casting a fur tive glance at her master as she did so, and making her escape as quickly as possible. Tow zer, being engaged with the pigs that mo ment, allowed her to depart unmolested ; and soou came back to bis master, wagging his tail, and looking up, as if expecting praise for his performance. The traveler availed himself of this season of quiet to renew his inquires. "Well," said Mr. Jackson, " I reckon we can accommodate ye. Whar are ye from stran ger ?" Mr. Noble having stated "whar" he was from; was required to tell "whar" he was going, whether he owued that " bit of horse flesh," and whether he wanted to sell him.— having answered all these interrogatories in a satisfactory manner, he was ushered iuto the house. The interior was rude and slovenly, like the exterior. The doors opened by wooden latches with leather strings, and sagged so much on their wooden hinges, that they were usually left open to avoid the difficulty of shutting them. Guns and fishing tackle were on the walls, and the seats were wooden benches or leather-bottomed chairs. A tall, lank woman, with red hair, and a severe aspect was busy mending a garment. When asked if the stran ger could be provided with supper, she curtly replied that she " reckoned so and without farther parlance or salute, went out to give orders. Immediately afterward, her shrill voice was heard calling out, " You gal ! put the fix eus on the table. The "gal," who obeyed the summons,proved to be the sylph-like child that hud guided the traveler to the house. To the expression of listlcssuess and desolation which he had pre viously noticed, there was now a look of bewil derment and fear. He thenght she might, per haps, be a step daughter of Mrs. Jackson ; but how could so coarse a man as his host be the father of such gentleness and grace ? While supper was being prepared, Mr Jack son entered into conversation with his guest upon the usual topics in that region—the prices of cotton and "niggers." He frankly laid open bis own history and prospects, stating that he was "fetched up" in Western Tenes see, where he owned but two " niggers." A rich uncle had died in Alabama, and lie had come in for a portion of his wild land and "nig gers so he concluded he would move South and take possession. Mr. Noble courteously sustained his share of conversation ; but his eyes involuntarily followed the interesting child as she passed in aud out to arrange the supper table. " You seem to fancy Leewizzy," said Mr. Jackson, shaking the ashes from his pipe "I have never seen a haudsomer child," re plied Mr. Noble. "Is she your daughter ?" " No, sir ; she's my nigger," was the brief response The young girl reentered the room at that moment, and the statement seemed so incredi ble, that the traveler eyed her with scrutinizing glance, striving in vaiu to find some trace of colored ancestry " Come here Leewizzy," said her master.— " What d'ye keep yet- eyes on the ground for ? You 'aint got no occasion to be ashamed o'yer eyes. Hold up yer head, now, and look the gentleman in the face." She tried to obey, but native timidity over came the habit of submission, and, after one shy glance at the stranger, her eyelids lower ed, and their long fringes rested on her blush ing cheeks. " 1 reckon yc don't often see a poi tier piece of flesh," said Mr. Jackson. While lie wasspeaking his wife came in from the kitchen, followed by a black woman with a dish of sweet potatoes and some hot corn cakes. She made her presence manifest by giving "Leewizzy" a violent push, with the exclamation, " What are ye standing thar for, ye lazy wench? Go and help Dinah bring in the fixens." " You'll make a fool o'that ar gal. It's high time she was sold. She's no account here." Mr. Jackson gave a knowing wink at his guest, and remarked, " Womeu folks are gincr ally glad enough to have niggers to wait on 'em ; but ever stnee that gal came into the house, my old woman's been in a desperate hurry to have me sell her. But such an article don't lose nothing by waiting awhile. I've some thoughts of taking a tramp to Texas one o' these days ; and I reckon a prime fancy arti cle, like that ar, would bring a fust-rate' price iu New Orleaus." The subject of his discourse was listening to what he said ; and partly from tremor at the import of his words, and partly from fear that she should not place the dish of bacon and eggs to please her mistress, sho tipped it in setting it down, so that some of the fat was spilled on the table-cloth. Mrs. Jackson seized her and slapped her bard, several times, on both sides of her head. The frightened child tried to es cape, as soon as she was released from her grasp, but, being ordered to remain and wait upon the table, she stood behind her mistress, carefully suppressing her sobs, though uunble to keep back the tears tliat trickled down her cheeks. The traveler was hungry, but this wa a damper upou his appetite. 110 was indig nant at seeing such a timid young creature so roughly handled ; but he dare not give utter ance to his emotions, for fear of increasing the pcrsecutiou to which she was subjected. Af terward, when his host and hostess were ab sent from the room, and Louisa wus clearing the table, impelled by a feeling of pity he could not repress, he laid his hand gently upou her head, and said, " Poor child !" It was a simple phrase, but his kindly tones produced a mighty effect on that suffering lit tle soul. Her pent-up affections rushed forth like a flood when the gates arc opened. Sin threw herself into his arms, nestled her head upon his breast, and sobbed out, " Oh, I have nobody to love me now I" This outburst of feeling was so unexpected, that the young man felt embarrassed, aud knew not what to do.— His aversion to disagreeable scenes amounted to a weakness ; and he knew, moreover, that if his hostess should become aware of his sym pathy, her victim would fare all the worse for it. Still it was not in his nature to repel the affection that yearned towards liirn with so overwhelming an impulse. He placed his hand tenderly on her head, and said, in u soothing voice, "Be quiet now, mv little girl. I hear somebody coming, and you know your mistress expects you to clear the table." Mrs. Jackson was in fact approaching, and Louisa hastily resumed her duties. Had Mr. Noble been guilty of some culpable action, he could uot have felt more desirous to escape the observation of his hostess. As soon as she en tered, he took up his hat hastily, and went out to ascertain whether his horse had been duiy cared for. lie saw Louisa no more that night. But as he lay awake, looking at a star that peeped in upon liirn through an opening in the log wall, he thought of her beautiful eyes, when the sun shoue upon them, as she emerged from the shadows. He wished that his mother and sis ter were living that they might adopt the at tractive child. Then he remembered she was a slave, reserved for the New Orleans market, and that it was not likely his good mother could obtain her, if she were alive and willing to uudertuke the charge. Sighing, as he had often done, to think how painful there were which he had no power to remedy, lie fell asleep and saw a very small girl dancing with a pail of water, while a flock of white doves were wneeling around her. The two pictures had mingled on the floating cloud canvas of dream land. He had paid for his entertainment before going to lied, and had signified his intention to resume his journey as soon as light dawned.— Ad was silent in the house when he went forth; and out of doors nothing was stirring but a fog that roused himself to bark after him, and chanticleer perched on a stump to crow. He was, therefore, surprised to find Louisa at the crib where his horse was feeding. Springing toward liirn she exclaimed: "Oh you have come ! I)o buy me, sir ! I will be so go'd ! I will do everything you tell me 1 Oh, I am so unhappy ! I)o buy me, Sir!" He patted her ou the head, and looked down compassionately into the swimming eyes that were fixed so imploringly upon his. "Buy you my poor child?" he replied. " I have no house, —I have nothing for you to do " "My mother showed me how to sew some, and how to do some embroidery," she said coaxiugly. "I will learn to do better, and I earn enough to buy something to eat. Oh, do buy me, sir 1 Do take ine with you !" "1 cannot do that," he replied, "for I must go auother day's journey before I return to Mobile." "Do you live in Mobile?" she exclaimed, eagerly. "My father lived in Mobile. Once I tried to run away there, but they set the dogs after me. Oh, do carry me back to Mo bile !" "What is your name?" he said ; "and in what part of the city did you live?" " My name is Louisa Duncan ; and my father lived at Tine Grove. It was such a beautiful place ! and I was so happy there ! Will you take me back to Mobile? Will you?" Evading the question, he said : "lour name is Louisa, but your father called you Loo Loo. didn't lie ?" That pet name brought forth a passionate outburst of tears. Her voice choked, and choked again, as she sobbed out : " Nobody has ever called me Loo Loo since my father died." lie soothed her with gentle words, and she, looking up earnestly, as if stirred by a sudden thought, exclaimed : " How did you know my father called me Loo Loo ?" He smiled as he answered. " Then you don't remember a young man who ran after one day, when yon were playing with a little white dog at Pine Grove ? and how your father called to you, " Come here, Loo Loo, and sec the gentleman" !" " I don't remember it," she replied ; " but I remember how my father used to laugh at me about it. long afterward. He said I was very young to have gentlemen running after ine." "I am that gentleman," lie said. " Wheu I first looked at you. I thought I had seen you before ; and now 1 see plainly that you are Loo Loo." That name was associated with so many ten der memories, that she seemed to hear her fa ther's voice once more. She nestled close to her new friend, and repeated, in most persua sive tones, " You will buy me ? Won't you ?" " And your mother ? What has become of her ?" he asked. " She died of yell iw fever, two days before my father. lam all alone. Nobody cares fur me. Yon will buy me—wou't you ?" " But tell me bow you came here, my poor child," he 6aid. She answered, " I don't know. After my father died, a great many folks came to the boase, and they sold everything. They said my father was uncle to Mr. Jackson, aud that "l VOL. XX. —NO. 1. belonged to him. Isit Mrs. Jackson won't let me call Mr. Duncan my father. She says if she ever hears of my calling hiin so again, she will whip inc. Do let me be your daughter. You will buy ine—won't you ?" Overcome by her entreaties, and by the pleading expression of those beautiful eyes, ha said "Well little teaser, I will see whether Mr. Jncksou will sell you to me. If he will, I will send for you before long.'' " Oh, don't send for me !" she exclaimed, moving her hands up and down with nervous rapidity. " Come you/self, and come icon.— They'll carry me to New Orleans, if you don't come for me." " Well, well, child, be quiet. If I can buy you, I will come for you myself. MeauwhiU, be a good girl. I vvou't forget you." lie stooped down, and sealed the promise with a kiss on her forehead. As he raised his head, he became aware that Hill, the horse boy, was peeping in at the door ; with abroad grin upon his bluek lace. He understood the meaning of that grin, and it seemed like an ugly imp driving away a troop of fairies. He was about to speak angrily, but checked him self with the reflection. " They will all think so. Hlack or white, they will all think so.— Hut what can Ido ? I must save this child from the fate that awaits her." To Bill he merely said that he wished to see Mr. Jackson on business, and had, therefore, changed his mind about starting before breakfast. The bargain was not soon completed ; for Mr. Jackson had formed large ideas concern ing the price " Leewizzy " would bring in tho market ; and Dill had told the story of what lie witnessed at the crib, with sundry, jocose additions, which elicited peals of laughter from his master Hut the orphan had won the young mail's heart by the childlike confidence she had manifested to ward him, and conscien e would not allow him to break the solemn pro mise he had given her. After a protracted conference, he agrred to pay eight hundred dollars, and to come for Louisa the next week. The appearance of the sua, after a long, cold storm, never made a greater change than the announcement of this arrangement of that desolate child. The expression of fear vanish ed, and listlessness gave place to springing elasticity of motion. Mr. Noble could ill afford to spare so large a sum for tbe luxurv of benevolence, and he was well aware that the office of protector which he had taken up on himself, must necessarily prove expensive. But when he witnessed her radiant happiness he cotild not regret that he had obeyed the genercus impulse of his heart. Now, for the first time, she was completely identified with the vision of that fairy child who had so cap tivated his fancy four years before. He never forgot the tones of her voice, and the expres sion of her eyes, when she kissed his hand at parting, and said, " I thank yon, Sir, for buy ing me." [TO Bk CONTINUED.J LYING IN II:I> —No piece of indolence hurti the health more timu the modern custom of ly ing abed too long in the morniug. This is tha general practice in great towns. The inhabi tants of cities seldom rise before eight or nine o'clock ; lint the morning is undoubtedly the best time for exercise, while the stomach is empty and the body refreshed with sleep. Be sides, the morning nir braces and strengthens the nerves, and in some measure answers tho purposes of a cold bath. Let anyone who has been accustomed to lie in bed till eight or nius 0 clock, rise by six or seven, spend a couple of hours in walking, riding, or any active diver sion without doors, and lie will liud his spirits cheerful and serene throughout the day, his ap petite keen, and his body braced and strength ened. OiMom soon renders early rising agree able, and nothing contributes more to the pre servation of health. The inactive are contin ually complaining of pains, etc. These com plaints, which pave the way to many others, arc not to be removed by medicines : they can only lie cured by a vigorous course of cxercisp, to which, indeed, they seldom fail to yield. It consists with observation, that all very old men have been curly risers. This the only circum stances attending longevity to which we ueyer knew au exception. " LOMOND, how is it that the buttons nre on the inside of your shirt collar?" "J don't know—isn't that the way, mother ? " " No my son, you have disobeyed ine, you have been in swimming" The boy was for a moment silent. However the satisfactory explanation, as ho thought soon occurred. With a triumphant look and a bold voice, lie exclaimed : " Mother 1— 1 guess i turned it getting over the fence." 1 HI RE was more fact than fancy in the cross reply of iiii unfortunate female culprit, when under cross-examination by a brow-beating limb of tlic law. " Madam," lie demanded, " what sort of conduct have you pursued through life, that should subject you to thesnspicion of this outrage upon the plaintiff?" She answered, " Impudence, which has bceu the making of you, has been my ruin." " It seems to me that 1 h\ve seen your pysiognomy somewhere before, br.t I cannot imagine w here'' \ cry likely : I have been the keeper of a I r.si n for twenty years." An affection, however misplaced and ill requittcd, if honestly conceived and deeply felt, rarely fails to advance the sclf-tdncution of man. I - or a lady to sweep her carpet with embroidertd umlersleeves, would be con-ider cd very dirty; but to drag the sidewalk with her skirts, seems to be very genteel. tssr If you would enjoy yourself, always b late at a ball ; it's past time. fitgr Why is a retired carpenter likeaKctn rer ? Because he is au ax-plauer. Most people dou t think, they only thiuk they think.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers