(HE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE. TOWANDA: Thursday Morning, September 1, 1859. jitlttfeb IJffttrg. LATENT LIFE. BY ALICE CAHEY. Though never shown by word or deed Within us lies some germ of power. As lies unguesscd, within the seed. The latent flower. And under ever}- common sense That doth its daily use fulfill, There lies another, more intense, And beauteous still. This dusty house, wherein is shrined The soul is but the counterfeit Of that which shall he, more rctined, And exquisite. The light which to our sight belongs Enfolds a light more warm and clear, Music hut intimates the songs We do not hear. The fond embrace, the tender kiss Which love to its expression brings, Are but the husk the chrysalis Wears on its wings. The vigor tailing to decay, Hopes, impulses, that fade and die, Are hut the layers peeled away From life more high. When death shall come and disallow These rough and ugly masks we wear, 1 think that we shall he as now, Only more fair- And he who makes his love to be Always around me, sure and calm, Sees what is possible to me, Not what 1 am. Sthdeb ®ale. [From the Dublin University Magazine.] THE LAST VICTIM OF TIIE SCOTTISH JIAIDEN! A Scottish maiden ! What a pleasant vis ion do not these words call up. Who that has ever kept his twelfth of August on the northern moors could fail to be reminded by them of some bright-eyed Highland lassie whom he has met at early dawn of day cross ing the mountain stream barefoot, with her plaid thrown over her fair hair, and her clear voice singing out an old sweet ballad of her native land, or happily, if he had an en free to the homes of the Scottish aristocracy, they will bring before him some yet fairer picture of a pure pale face, where eyes of a blue, tender as the morning sky, spoke of a noble and truthful soul within and he has learnt to love the race that once bad such deadly feuds with his Saxon ancestry, because of the " gla mour " cast around hiui by the golden-haired daughters of the land. But very different is the real picture of that Scottish maiden of whom we are about to speak ; nor was she any visiou of the fancy, but a terrible reality, whom all men knew and feared throughout broad Scotland, two hun dred years ago. A dark and stern lady was she truly, and one who brooked no rivals—for they whom she had once embraced were never clasped to mortal heart again ; and the lovers whom she pillowed on her bosom, slept asleep that knew no waking. Few there were, even of the bravest, who did not shudder somewhat as they saw her keeping her unchanging watch through storin and sunshine, beneath the sha dow of old St. Giles, the principal church of the Northern capital ; and oftentimes, when they saw how the ground beneath her feet was stained with blood, they muttered curses on the " loathly maiden," that had done to death so many a gallant Scot. Yet to some this ghastly lady (which was none other that the public guillotine) appeared to have attractions, such as a bright eyed damsel would have en vied ; for it is recorded of the noble Marquis of Argyle, the last who had died in her em brace, when our story commences, that he ran eagerly up the steps, and exclaimed as he laid his head on the block ; "This is the sweetest maiden I have ever kissed." This saying of his was often cited, and the world wondered what hidden pang had so darkened life for the gallant noble, whose homage was courted by the fairest ladies, that tie should die with words of such bitter meaning oil his lips ; but when some few years later, the maiden pressed with her cold hand the throat of him who proved to be her latest victim, the strange and tragic circumstances of his death obliterated all re collections of the Marquis and his dying words It happened singularly enough, however, that these two, the Lord of Argyle, and Ken elm Hamilton who succeeded him on the block, had been in life the deadliest enemies ; and by a peculiar chain of circumstances, which we shall now proceed to detail, the death of the one caused that of the other. It was about a month after the execution of the Marquis that Hamilton, whose race, so closely allied to the kings of Scotland, was even prouder than Argyle's, found himself, compelled by political business, to pass a night in the little town of Inverary, close to which stood the magnificentcastle of the same name, which had been the heritage of the dead rival. Never, perhaps, did any one approach that beautiful spot with greater ill-will than Ken elm Hamilton ; lie was a young man of a pe culiarly fiery and impetuous disposition, of whom it was often said that his love aud his hatred were alike to be dreaded, so ardent ami passionate was heiu either ; he was the second son of that noble family of Hamilton*, be tween whom and the Argyles there had been a deadly feud for many generations past. — Never, however, had it burnt more fiercely than in the time of which we write, when the families had been represented by the Marquis who had just been compelled to lay his lofty bead ut the maiden's feat, and Kenelm, with his wild and angry temper , for his elder broth er was an idiot, who bore the family title, but lacked the wit to defend their honor when as sailed. Deep had been the hate between Ar i gyle and Hamilton, which the new-shed blood of the former had not availed to quench ; for, in addition to the old clan feud, there was a private quarrel between them which had fear fully embittered their traditionary hatred.— The Marquis of Argyle had been betrothed al most from boyhood to his cousin, the lady Ellen Uraham, and although their engagement had been a matter of family arrangement, he loved her well uigl truly ; not so the lady, however. She had not been consulted when she was bound, while yet a child, to the Mar quis, and with the true femiDine spirit of con tradiction, she resolved to choose for herself, and accepted the addresses of Kenelm Hamil ton, who, by some unlucky chance, had fallen !in love with his rival's bride. Their wedding I was even now fixed to take place in a few months, and this circumstance- no doubt, ex plained the last words cf Argyle, which were destined to oe the means of one day bringing | his enemy to the arms of this same cruel maid en, whom he himself had embraced with so j much fervor. And now the recollection of that last bloody scene was, doubtless, heavy on the heart of Hamilton as he rode down the path which led to Inverary Castle and the lit ; tie village that lay at its foot. It was a cold ; and gloomy winter night; the daikncss was • intense, and the wild north wind went shriek I ing and howling through the pass as if it bore ; upon its wings the souls o( those who had ex | pired in souie great agony, while the dark ' Scotch firs stood up like spectres among the bleak gray rocks. Truly it was an eveningon which the stoutest heart might gladly seek a shelter, and Hamilton was fain, though sorely against his will, to rest for the night in the domain of his enemies. This hud been no part of his intention when he set out on his jour ney ; he had then been accompanied by two of = it is retainers, and he designed to have passed j at a little distance from Inverary early in the day, and to have lodged for the night in a eas I tie at some distance, and belonging to a kins l man of his own ; but, unhappily that morning 1 one of his guides had been thrown from his f horse and injured so severely that his life was • despaired of. Some hours were spent in con veying the wounded man to a resting place ; i- and Hamilton, whose mission admitted of no t delay, was obliged to leave him in charge of e his comrade and push on his road, although y the short December day was already closing in e ; when lie started again. He rode on as rapidly as lie could, but the r i darkness soon became so impenetrable that he r repeatedly lost his way ; and when at last, the r , lights of Inverary gleamed through the driv o ing mist and rain, he felt that it had become y a matter of necessity that lie should rest there e for the night, as hisjadedhor.se was stumbling -, 1 at every step from sheer fatigue. s In these turbulent times, when every man's 0 hand was against his fellow, there would have s been considerable risk in Hamilton venturing :- into Inverary, and especially this particular 1 Hamilton, had he been known ; but Keueliti trusted that the darkness ol the night would t prevent his being seen by any but the landlord 0 ol the inn where he meant to sleep, to whom ', I he was personally unknown, and who would d not be likely to suspect that a solitary iiorse i- man, unattended bv a single retainer, could s j bear so proud a name. r In this supposition he was proved to have r judged rightly. Kenelm rode unmolested and Si unobsei ved through the little town, and the p streets of which were, in fact, almost deserted; a as the tempestuous weather had driven all the t inhabitants into their houses, and lie saw, to h his great satisfaction, that even the door ol 1 ; the inn was shut—a sufficient proof that no if guests were expected at the " Argylo Arms" i that night. The Landlord, a Campbell, of s | course, and as sturdy a Scot as one could wish u ! to see, himself came to the door to welcome l | the stranger, and after sending his tired horse s to the stable, lie ushered liirn it.to a huge e j sione kitchen, briefly remarking that lie must -, I be content with such cheer as the family pro i- visions could afford for that lie little expected s any visitors on a night so " uncanny." Hamilton assured him he was not disposed ii to be fastidious and having thrown off his 1 dripping mantle and discumbered himself ol t his heavy riding-boots, he sat dow non tlie oak f en settee opposite the huge fire-place ; while J Campbell went out to see that the horse was e attended to. y Left to himself, Kenelm began to look s around hiin, and he was much struck by the i scene which presented itself within the room, i The huge fire-place, which was filled up with i wood, sent u bright and ruddy glow over the c whole room, and lighted up with a brilliant - glare the figure of a young woman, who sat ; at one corner of the ample hearth, and who ', was the only other occupant of the apartment - besides himself. There was something very :, peculiar in the appearance of this girl, which y riveted Hamilton's gaze in spite of himself.— e She sat perfectly motionless, excepting for the e rapid movement of her fingers, which she was employing in knitting ; her plaid thrown back n from her head left her pale face exposed to 0 view, which was marked by a singularly va s cant expression. This was caused in part, no f, doubt, by the fixed stare of herjarge blue eyes t which never moved in their sockets nor briglit li ened with a sparkle of life ; it was evident ■, that she was stone-blind, while there lurked I. certain lines round the thin compressed lips t which seem to indicate that she had all the 1 acnteness, amounting almost to cunning, which i- often characterizes persons thus afflicted. f The countenance was far trotn beautiful— s scarcely even pleasing—yet it impressed 11am- I i ilton with a sense of power such as we often J feel und yet can not define in the presence of - persons unknown to ns. She gave no signs of u being conscious of his presence, but he felt she - was aware that he was in the room ; and as y he continued to watch her sitting there in her e strong impassiveuess, an indefinable feeling of s shrinking and dread took possession of him, y for which he could not acconnt. He had been i thinking of Lis rival's bloody death, and it struck him that the implacable " maiden* who PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA (JOODRICII. bad tuken Argyle's young life might liuve been fitly represented by this weird datusci w ho sat there so like a blind inexorable fate weaving a web of inevitable doom. The gailant knights of those times who fear ed neither death nor danger, were greatly prone to superstition; and Hamilton, hot-blooded and impetuous as he was. proved no exception to the rule. He was, then fore, heartily glad when the inn keeper returned and broke the ominous silence which had so oppressed him. " Here, Elspeth,"said Campbell, addtessing the figure in the broad Scotch of those davs | which we will not attempt to reproduce, "Here's a gentleman, cold and hungry, come and see what you can find for his supper." Hamilton listened anxiously for the sound of her voice, feeling as if it would be a relief ! to hear her speak, but she never opened her ! lips ; she rose up, however, at once, and be gan to move about iu a strange mechanical ' manner, her blindness becoming more apparent 1 as she guided herself by the touch, while the ! staring glassy eyes seemed to him absolutely ; ghastly as she passed near him. She placed | some oatmeal cakes and dried fish oil the ta i ble, along with a jug of whiskey, and then re i turned to her place by the lire, where she sat 1 immovable as before. " Is that your daughter ?" said Hamilton to the inn-keeper, as he invited him to draw ueui and eat. "My only child ; and blind from her birth," was the reply, uttered almost with sternness, as if the painful " ENpeth's not like other folks, and you had better take uo heed of her." Hamilton took the hint and said no more, while he applied himself to the rude fare set be fare him with a keen-set appetite. Nor did ; he spare the whiskey, which was wonderfully cheering after his wet ride ; and when he had finished his repast he felt, as he said, like a new man altogether. Filling his g'ass again he invited Campbell to join him, and the two ; began to converse together on the events of the day. Keueltn sat with his back to the blind girl, and, as she never moved or spoke, lie soon forgot her presence altogether, and had well-nigh forgotten also the necessity ol concealing his name and lineage from these ! retainers of his foes, when he was startled in |to a sudden remembrance of Lis position. Al luding to some political event, lie mentioned that he had been at Holyrood the day before. '• Ye come from Edinboio', then," said tile inn keeper, kindiiug with a sudden fierceness, and, clenching his list, he struck it on the ta ble v. ith a violent blow, exclaiming: " Curses j on the bloody city !—the city of murderers ! and may tiie lire from heaven come down upon it and consume it !" " Amen," said a deep, stern voice, almost at Kenelm's ear, and he started involuntarily as he saw that it had come from the blind wo man's lips. Something, too, in the sudden pas-ion of the Campbell had stirred the angry i blood within himself, and whilst an involunta ry instinct told hiiu what train of thought had i thus fired tlie retainer of Argyll*, he had tuuch ado to hide his own antagonistic feelings. " You speak sharply, Master Campbell/' ho said, at la>t. "The capital ol Scotland is be holden to you in truth." "Ay," said the Highlander, his brow grow ■ ing red with suppressed rage; "but why should ; I curse the senseless stones, though they were j stained with the blood of the noble Lord Ar gyle, llather let me curse his enemies, who j drove him to the death—his bitter foes, who I made his life so dark to him that he was fain : to break some petty law that lie might die Curses, then, 1 sav, upon the traitor Hamilton, who stole his bride." " Amen/' the deep voice answered, but this ! time Kenelm heard it not ; his fiery passions were aroused beyond control ; he forgot all but that lie had been called a traitor, and start ing to his feet, he advanced on the Campbell, saying : " Man, know you to whom you are speak ing ?" " I neither know nor care," said'the inn keeper rising, also. " Isut i say yet more ; | not only curses upon him, the traitor, tint upon | her, his lady light-o'-love, who would have brought a stain upon Argyle's time-honored i house had she become his bride." This was too much. Ju another moment ; Hamilton's ditk was gleaming iu his hand.—• " Villain, unsay that word," he thundered out; 1 " she is as pure as driven snow." " His ladv light-o'-love," repeated the Camp bell, with a mocking smile, at the same time preparing to defend himself; but the furious Hamilton had closed with him ere the words had well passed his lips—one fierce struggle followed, then the Highlander fell heavily to the ground as his assailant plunged the dagger into his breast tip to the very hilt : " Ibe, then, | with the foul lie in your throat," One deep l groan—one strong convulsion of the stalwart i limbs, and Campbell was a corpse. Hamilton stood transfixed, while Ids boiling blood gradually subsided, anil his pas-inn cool ed in the presence of death. The whole thing I had taken place so suddenly, that lie could I hardly believe the Jiving, breathing man lie had been talking to so amicably bat a few I moments before, was lying there murdered by i his own hand. Hut suddenly as lie gazed, he i felt his iiesb creep with a strange horror, a* I he saw the soulless eyes of the blind maiden i upturned towards him as she knelt on the ! ground by her dead father, towards whom she ] had crept with a step so steady that he had not heard her. Hamilton drew back, shud dering front the fixed stare, so dreadful seemed ! the expression of hate on her white ghastly | face; but as he receded she crept towaidshim on her knees and laid her hand, which she had steeped in her father's blood, on his, till it bore ; the same red stain, and sai i iu a low stifled voice: "You have murdered him, and you dial! die for it. None saw the murder, for my blind eyes saw it riot ; but think not to escape ; the vengeance of Heaven will track you out one day." Then flinging up her arms to heav en, she exclaimed—"My father, O my father!" and fell upon the corpse with a shriek so wild and piercing, that Hamilton felt as if it must huv rung upon the ears of every person in "REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." the lov.n, und reached even through the mas sive walls of Inverury Castle. That cry recalled him to himself ; he must j escape right speedily, or another moment would see him surrounded ly those whom it must rouse ; the instinct of .self-preservation at once tuck the place of every other leeling, and with one bound he darted to the outer door, opened it, rushed to the stable, mounted the horse without saddle or bridle, and t he cluttering of his horse's feet, as lie galloped away, was u!l that the inhabitants heard of him as they rushed to the inn, whence the blind girl's O ; shrieks were still heard echoing. Hamilton never slackened his pace till be had laid ten miles between him and Inverary. In those days the course of Justice was as stern as it was summary ; and he felt well assured j that the present Marquis of Argyle,the young er brother of his rival, would never rest till he hud found out the murderer of his retainer, especially when he heard from Elspeth the cir | euinstances of his death ; and if lie succeeded iu his search, the services of the " maiden " | would right speedily be called into action for Kenelm himself. When at la.it he ventured, under cover of a j fir wood, to stop liis furious courser's course,he ! began to consider the best means of avoiding : discovery with no small anxiety as to the issue. His best hope was in fact, that none had been present during the murder but the blind girl, who could not identify him ; and that not u -ingle inhabitant of Inverary had seen him, except her dead father himself. He was now not very far from the house of his kinsman, where originally intended to have passed the night. The time lie hud spent so fatally iu the inn at Inverary had not extended beyond an h< ur, and I lie rapid pace at which he had traversed the last ten miles had fully brought him to the time when we wouid, according to his ordinary style of traveling, had reached his destination, lie therefore resolved to pro ceed thither at once, as if lie were only arriv ing from the village where he had left his sevraiits,and to trust that no one would ever sus pect him of having made his unfortunate detour into the domain of his enemy. This plan suc ceeded perfectly ; he wusexpeeted by his cousiu anil the next morning his servant joined him, having left his comrade doing well; so that no doubt was for a moment entertained that lie had ever deviated from the road he had been expected to take, and he had once more started for Edinburgh before the news of the murder had spread beyond Inverary. Never theless, when the fact did become known, it created a sensation, chiefly owing to the pecn liar circumstances of the case—a murder com mitted by an unknown assisiu in presence of one sole witness, and that one deprived of the power of seeing the murderer, was even in days of bloodshed, a striking event, and the mysterious escape of the criminal seemed ulto ■ get her unaccountable. The Marquis of Argyle, who was at his j cii-tle on the fatal niglit, left no stone nuturn ! Ed in his efforts to discover the perpetrator ol | tlie deed, being stimulated to unusual activity j in the search, by the suspicion he entertained ! that the assas-in was iu some way connected with the family of his foes, the Ilamiltoiis.— I This he gathen d from the conversation between tin* murdi icr and iiis victim ; which Elspeth detailed word for word, but it afforded no clue whatever to the actual individual, and Kenelm himself was never suspected. After a few weeks of useless investigation the search was giveu over ; but the details of the murder were carefuily recorded by theconrt of justice, and the Lord of Argyle declared ; that if ever in Lis lifetime the assassin was dis j covered, he would bring him to the sealTohl,be the interval ever so long. Elspeth found a home in the Maranis's household, after the good ohl fashion ot these times, which rccogni zed a elaiiu on the part of all the helpless and affl i-ted of the clan to find a refuge with the family of their chief, and Kenelm iiad, to all appearance, escaped with perfect impunity. Yet he, gay and reckless as lie seemed, was j secretly haunted by one dark foreboding.which never left him day or night, Campbell was not the first man he had slain in the course of his stormy career ; but he was the first man lie had ever murdered ; the first whose life he had taken otherwise than in honorable warfare and already the unfailing retribution of actual crime had commenced in the deep secret ol his 1 heart. Wherever he went, alone or in crowds, I from the hour when the low solemn warning of I the blind girl came to him as he stood with his feet dabbling in the blood of lior father, lie heard that voice ringing in his tar, ami telling him that vengeance v.ould surely find liiui yet, j and the sleepless justice of the Invisible track • Liin out when leu-t he looked for it. Not even I the joy-hells, on his wedding moaning, could ! drown that ominous whisper iu his soul, nor tiie sweet tones of the Lady Ellen, while slie , murmured her bridal vows. Still was it sound | ing there, when the feeble cry of his first horn j spoke of new tics to make life sweet ; and,later still, he heard it through the firing of the su | lutes that greeted him as ambassador on a | foreign shore. Years passed on. most of which were spent at one of the continental courts ; : and when at last, lie returned, with his wife ; and family to Edinburgh, the murder of the j inn-keeper had not been thought of by anyone for a long time past. One day, about a month after his arrival in i the Scottish capital, Hamilton was walking along the most fashionable part of the old tow n where the houses of the nobility were chiefly to be found when his attention was nttrnetcd by a fray, which was going on in the streets between two young men. Such a sight was by no means uncommon in those days ;but the fury of the lads was so great that was evident some serious mischief would ensue if they were not seperated. Hamilton, whose rank in the city entitled him to interfere, at once rushed iu lie tween tliem, calling to them in a loud voice to desist immediately from further quarreling,and with a firm grasp of his strong hands on tlie shoulder of each he sent them reeling to the opposite sides of the street. The affair had collected a considerable crowd and Hamilton's rank and position were well known amongst them, so that they all made way for him as be turned to resume his walk. One moment lie stood there in all bis proud prosperity, receiving the homage of the pro • pie as bis right, and scarce bemling his lofty head in acknowledgment of it—the sunshine of a bright, summer sky streaming down upon his noble and commanding form seemed but to typify the brilliancy of bis worldly prospects. — One moment he stood thus, and the next the vengeance that had so long tracked his steps i uaseeii laid hold upon him with a deadly grasp an 1 the suu of Hamilton's career sunk down to set in blood. A shriek so thrilling and in- I tense that it seemed to pierce bis very heart, suddenly rung through the air, and all eyes,as as well as his own, were turned to the spot from whence it appeared to have arisen—and there a sight presented itself which caused the stately Hamilton to grow pale and tremble like a child. On the highest step of the stone stair which led to the door of the Marquis of Angle's town residence, a tail, haggard-looking woman was standing—her arms were outstreched towards Hamilton, and her eyes, whose glassy | vacancy showed that they were sightless,seemed to glare upon him with a horrible triumph as she shrieked out in tones that were hpard far and near : " Seize him ? seize that man whoever lie may be—lie is the murderer of my father ! I know biin by his voice." Many of Argyle's retainers were among the crowd,and the Marquis himself had been drawn ;to the win low by lho noise of the quarrel.— | All knew Elspeth Campbell, the blind woman and remembered her father's mysterious mur der—all could testify to tho acuteness of her sense of hearing, and the repeated expression i of her longing desire that she might hear the ! voice of the assassin, so long sought in vain.for ; she remembered the full rich tones that had | called 011 her father to unsay his words, one instant before lie fell a corpse, and she felt cer tain she could know them again if she could but once hear the murderer speak ; and now, after the lapse of all these years, the well known voice had struck her ear, and again and again she .-creamed out : "Seize him ! 1 know lie is my father's murderer." In another moment Argyle was confronting Hamilton, too thankful to have such a charge established against his ancient enemy. The people crowded round, and if any had been disposed to doubt the blind woman's recogni tion, Hamilton's own awestruck conscience set a seal upon its truth, for he attempted no de fense, but kept his appalled look still fixed up on the blind woman's ghastly face ; he let his bunds fall at his side and exclaimed : " It is the hand of God, and I am lost !" He spoke truly ; he was 10-t indeed. Argyle speedily brought him to justice. The him J woman's evidence was unquestionable nor did he attempt to controvert it ; it was as if the very blood of the murdered man had'risen up to cry for vengeance ; and all men deemed it a righteous sentence which doomed him to the scaffold. Not many days after the bright morning when he stood us it seemed, on the pinnacle of fortune with admiring crowds around him, he found himself again the centre of a large as semblage, the object of iut< rest to all. The deadly maiden had been prepared to receive another victim, and at her feet the noble Lady Ellen H..miiiou sat weeping bitterest tear-, as she saw the lover of her youth, the husband of her riper years, led up to die. They let him pause one moment to take leave of her. "My Ellen, do not weep," lie said, " this is but the work of God's unsleeping justice. 1 ever knew that 1 mu-t die for that rash deed. The blind woman's voice has haunt led me through all these years, as it seems mine has haunted her. She told me vengeance would overtake me, and it has come—merciful it is that it meets me on the scaffold and not iu the fires of hell." He kissed her pale lips and pass ed on. Still nearer to the fatal maiden stood the blind woman, who had murdered hiinas surely as had killed her father. He laid his hand on j hers ; " Elspeth, you are avenged," he said ; j"I am about to die. Now, let your hatred | pass away, and pray for inc." " 1 will," she answered, and the tears fell ; from her sightless eyes, as he passed on tosut i fer. Jn another instant the maiden had done her work, and the la.-t of her victims lay slauglitcr ! Ed in her terrible embrace. The instrument of death thus strangely named was never used again. It was super i ceded by the more modi rn fashion of excuting criminals, and it may now be seen in the Muse ; uni of the Society of Antiquaries iu Edinburgh, j with the dark stains yet corroding on the lata] ! knife, which were left there by the blood of liini who iu vary deed and truth was brought to justice by the s : gnal retribution we have re corded. To Yorxc LAMES.— 1 have found that the i men who are really the most, fond of t lie society ' of the ladies, who cherish for tiiein a high re spect, are seldom the most popular with ihe sex. Men of great assurance, w hose tongues arc highly hung, wiio make words supply the place of ideas ; and place compliment in the room of sentiment, are the favor ites. A due respect for woman leads to respectful action j toward them—and respectful is usually distant | i action, and this great distance is mistaken by j them for neglect or want of interest.—Ad j dison. fazf Love is neither crime nor folly.— j Unrequited love may he inexpedient, and she ! may be weak who indulges it, but there was ; never a heart in wiiir.li true love bad dwelt that i was not purified and made noble by its inliu ence. The sin and crime in the world, ordi narily ascribed to love, should be ascribed to the absence of it. BCLWFR snvs :—" Of all the agonies in life, that which is the most harrowing and poig nant, which for t he time annihilates reason and leaves our whole organization one lacerated mangled heart, is the conviction that we have been deceived where we have placed all the trust of love." VOL. XX. —NO. 13. The lost Darling. Dimpled white hands ioldcd peacefully across tlie -dill bosom, bright eyes closed in their la->t siuuiber, the soft ait stealing iu at the half open window, raising the silken hair from the calm, pure brow, all life like, so mockingly life like that you turn away and cry out bitterly troai the depths of yonr poor, anguish stricken heart us you realize that those pule lips will lisp your name no more, those soft eyes smile not again upon you, and that those clinging arms will never again be clasped around your neck, nor the fair voting head be pillowed up on your bosom. The little chair vacant, the cradle, the crib ; a little hat with wreaths of faded flowers, hanging against the wall, tiny worn shoes just where the little one threw thein carelessly iu its last play, all useless now, for the darling, your darling, lies pale, still aud cold. The bouse is still now ; no sound of pat tering footsteps, no innocent prattle, no singing laughter. There is uoiae ;n the street, but to your poor, suffering heart it seems insopporta ble. The young aud fair pass gaily by your wiudow, and their light luugh rings out upon the air, while you press your hands over your j teardimined eyes, aud strive to forget,—forget ; only to your hearthstone this great affliction i has brought sorrow—forget that while you are i weeping, the busy world will go on as usual, ! and laugh, jest, and plan, buy und sell, lose and gain as ever ; forget, aye, you strive to forget a!! save the oue great crushing grief that lias trampled down upon your quivering heart strings. Forget! ah yes, you do forget that the lit tle waxen form before you is but the casket that once enshrined a jewel and that jewel you called your own was lent to yon, aud is now set in the diadem of Calvary's meek and holy sufferer of the King of kings ; you forget that the tender lamb your frail hands could have guarded but poorly is safe from life's wearying tempests ; you forget iu your blind grief that your darling is an angel and instead of toiling and sinning, perhaps, through many years, it wears the robe and crown that only theblood washed may ever wear. Aye, you forget all this as you look upon your sweet, withered blossom, and cry out in your wild bitter anguish; you gnz'- upon the dark clouds that enshroud you, and forget the " silver liuing" and the bow of promise. .Say to the lone mother, joy to thee ! press a last fond kiss upon the pule lips and murmur thankfully, " Blessed be the name of the Lyrd ! " Housed from life's storms, free from lite's perils, no rugged steps, no path of thorns, no sin, no temptations ; safe ! and au angel ! Ah, little darling, thou art not lost, only gone first to the mansion of the blessed, and we should not weep for thee. Thou hast passed through death's cold river before us,and art safe, while we are left to battle with self and sin, to fight and conquer ere we wear a robe and crown like thine. Ah, little darling, joy to thee ! M.uiv A. KEABLES. TALENT, TACT, PERSEVERANCE. —Those three qualities help men forward to well-deserved wealth and enduring honors. David Ritten house, the American Astronomer, was a plow man ; linger Sherman, a boot aud shoe maker; George Bruce, the wealthy type-founder, (who has generously helped forward many a poor but deserving I rother of the press,) a poor printer boy ; as were also Horace Greeley, James Harper, Tlmrlow Weed, and Simou Camerou of the I nited States Senate ; the able and eloquent Senator for Ohio, Corwiu began life di iving a team between Columbus and Cincinnati. Thomas Ewbunk was tired a plumber ; John Fitch, who invented the steam t"at, and exhibited its operation, was a native ot Connecticut, and died poor aud neglected as did the ingenious Oliver Evans. Amos and Abbot Lawrence, the munificent patrons of the I u cful arts, once (though not recently) walk j ed down from V< l inout to Boston, with scarce ! a cent- in their pockets, and hardly any shoes ! on their feet. Andrew 11. Makle, tobacconist, I a former Mayor of New York, never inherited a cent of fortune ; and Mayor Brady won his way to wealth by skill as a mechanic and pru i deuce as a man of business. Sixteen years be- I fore the gallant but unassuming General Brown was C< nunander in-Chief of the armies of the United States, he was teaching a small Quaker j school. Oicoro, the greatest of all Roman \ Orators, was of very humble origin—yet his | eloquence confounded the traitor Cataline,and I made Julius Caesar tremble, though iu the | plenitude of his power. IMAGINATION. —A la-iv entered a dry goods store, and dcored to see several pieces of mus lin. On being told that the price was $3, she ! exclaimed, "How very high!" " Tney'ro ' cheap enough, if y<n'tl only inn gin e so," was the reply of a surly clerk ; and the lady ordcr- I e(' a piece to be wrapped up for her, took it [ up, and was walking out the store, when the clerk ran after her and said, " Madame, you have not paid me." " Olt yes, I have, if you : you'll only imagine so," site archly replied. What the world calls avarice is often times no more than compulsory and pennrious ness is better than a wasteful extravagance.— A jost man, being reproached with parsimony, snid that lie would rather enrich his enemies alter his death, than borrow of his friends iu . his lifetime. ggy A bankrupt, on being condoled with for his embarrassment, replied, " Ob, I am not at all embarrassed ; it is my creditors thatareem barrassed." £§s- A few days since, a " wee Hit of a boy" astonished his mother. She had occasion to chastise him slightly for some offence he had committed. Charley sat very quietly iu his chair for some time afterward, no doubt think ing very profoundly. At last he spoke out thus : "Muzz r, I wish pa'd get anozzer house keeper ; I've got tired seein' you round !" OPKN your heart to sympathy, bnt CLOSE it to despondency The flowst which opens to receive the dew, shuts against rain.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers