(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.