(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.