THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
OIE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
TOAVANDA:
Thursday Morning, September 15, 1859.
Sflerftb |!oetnr.
THE SLEEPERS.
They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ?
Children wearied with tbelr play ;
For the stars of night are peeping,
And the sun has sunk away.
As the dew upon the blossoms
Bow on their slender stem,
So, as light as their own bosom,
Balmy sleep hath conquered them.
They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ?
Mortals, compassed round with wo :
Eyelids wearied out with weeping.
Close for very weakness now :
And that short relief from sorrow.
Harassed nature shall sustain,
Till tbey wake again to-morrow.
Strengthened to contend with pain.
They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ?
Captives in their gloomy cells ;
Yet sweet dreams are o'er them creeping,
With their many colored spells:
All they love—again they clasp them ;
Feel again their long lost joys;
But the haste with which they grasp them.
Every fairy form destroys.
They are sleeping. Who are sleeping?
Misers, by their hoarded gold ;
And in fancy now are heaping
Gems and pearls of price untold ;
Golden chains their limbs encumber,
Diamonds seem before them strewn ;
But they waken from their slumber,
And the splendid dreaai is fiowu.
They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ?
Pause a moment, softly tread :
Anxious friends are fondly keeping
Vigils by the sleeper's bed :
Others hopes have all forsaken ;
One remains, that slumber kaeo :
Speak not, lest the slumberer waken
From that sweet, that saving sleep.
They are sleeping. Who are sleeping ?
Thousands who have passed away,
From a world of wo and weeping.
To the regions of decay.
Safe they rest, the green turf under ;
Sighing breeze, or music breath.
Winter's wind, or summer's thunder.
Cannot break the sleep of death.
5 11C Ct f b £3I f.
THE MIST OF THE VALLEY.
"My wife was dead. I bud never loved
her—l may as well speak plain—never lovtd
ter ; and yet for her sake I cast away the
one priceless pearl of my life I think every
human existence has its moments of fate—its
moments when the golden apple of the Hes
pendes hangs ready upon the boucb—how is
it that so few of us are wise enough to pluck
it ? The deeisiou of a siugle honr may ojeu
to us the gate of the enchanted gardens,
where are flowers and sunshine, and air purer
than any breeze of earth ; or may condemn
us, Tantalus-like, to rech ever more alter
some far off,unattainable pood—make us slaves
of the lamp forever and forever. And yet we
seek no counsel. We stretch torth onr hand
aud grasp blindly at the future, forgetting that
we have only ourselves io blame when we draw
them back pierced sorely with thorns.
My life, like all others, had its hour of des
tiny ; and it is of that hour, its perils, its
temptations, its sin, that I am about to tell
you.
I had knjwn Bertha Payson from my in
fancy. She was only a year yonnger than I
I can remember her face, far away among the
raisty visions of my boyhood. It looked then,
as it does now, pure and pale, yet proud Her
eyes were calm as a full lake underneath the
summer moon, deep as the sea—a clear, un
troubled gray. Her hair was soft and smooth,
and daik She wore it plainly banded away
from her large, thoughtful forehead The
pure, yet healthful white of her complexion
contrasted only with her eyes, her hair, her
clearly defiued, arching eye brows, aud one
line of red narking the thin, flexile lips. It
was relieved by no other trace of color, even
ia the cheeks.
I have not painted for yon a beauty, and
yet now I think that Bertha Payson had the
noblest female face that my eyes ever rested
on.
Her figure was tall and slender ; her voice
clear, low and musical. From my earliest
lioyhood she had seemed to me like some guar
dian saint, pure enough for worship, but, for a
long time, I had not thought warm enough for
lore
s>he was twenty before I began to under
stand her better I bad ja-t graduated at
Harvard, and I came home—perhaps a little
less dogmatic and conceited than the majority
of new fledged A B's—full of lofty aspira
tions, generous purposes, and romantic dreams
I was prepared to fall in k>ve. Vint 1 had nevtr
thought of loving quiet Bertha Payson. my
my next neighbor's daughter. The ideal lady
of my fancy was far prettier—a fairy creature,
with the golden hair and starry eyes of Ten
nyson's dream—an
Airy, fairy Lillian,
Ftnuag, lairy Lil.iaa.
And yet in the meantime. I looked forward
with pleasure to Bertha's companionship. To
taik with her always broognt out " ibe most
of Heaveu I had in B<* There was uothing
in art or nature so gioricos that it did not
uke new glory wheo glauces of ber eye kin
dled over it. My nnod never scaled any
height of lofty parpose or heroic thought
which her far reacmng soul had not couqnered
before me. aud so the beat purposes of cay life
grew better and stronger .u UM atreat atmos
phere of ber approval.
Thus it came aboot that we were daily to
gether. Long betora I though: of looking at
the pale prwid face with a lover's passion. 1
*.D"ts ] batl thooght, what other *ste"pre?A'.ion
PUBLISHED EVERY" THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
could a womau so pure, so single-hearted, so
true, have put upon the eagerness with which
I continually sought her society ? I passed
the largest portion of every day in her pres
ence. She was an early riser, and often, even
before the summer sunrise I went through the
narrow path and little wicket gate which di
vided our garden from hers, to persuade her
to join uie in a ramble in the delicious morning
twilight.
There was OLe Bcene of which we never
tired ; I have never seen it anywhere but in
Ryefields. In the Valley of Quinebang, the
mist rises so blue and dense that from a hill
overtopping it at a mile's distance it looks like
some strange inland sea, w hereupon, perchance,
Curtis' Hying Dutchman might take his long
and wonderful cruise, or a phautoiu Maid of
the Mut, sailing at dawn out ot some silent
cove might cut the phantom sea with her phan
tom keel, and go back with the sunrise into
silence and shadows. On one of those over-
topping hills Bertha and I watched the slow
coming of many a summer morning. It was
in one of those enchanted hours that I first
learned that a woman's heart, strong and pas
sionate as it was pure, slumbered beueath the
calm reticence of her external life.
We had been watching as usual, the sea of
mist, and speculating idly about the phantom
bark and its strange crew. Then we stood
silent for a moment, Bertha looking out over
the mist, and I looking at her dilating eves,
growing so large, so solemn, so full of thought.
At last, she turutd with a quick aud sudden
motion—
" Who would think, Frank, toseethis pros
pect now, that underneath this seeming sea
lay smiling the greenest and loveliest valley in
Connecticut ? I was thiukinghow like it was
to some human existence—men and women
whose outward life is a vail, denser aud more
impenetrable than the mist over the valley,
screening the throbbing. passionate, yet silent
heart from human vision. And ret there
comes a time when the vailed heart will assert
itself See. the sun is rising now- ; the mist
look- like a soundless sea no longer ; it is be
ginning to cnrl away in golden wreaths ; soon
we shall see the fair valley with its three white
houses ; its waving trees, its little becks of
bright waters. Sometimes, even thus, from
all proud hearts, the mist will roil goldenly
away, and we shall see as we are seeu, and
know as we are known—if not he-re, there."
She paused, aud I looked at her inspired
face I did not wish to break the i-ilence
which followed her words. I started, and led
the way down the steep hill. After a little, I
looked round to see if the same morning sun
rise lingered in her eyes. I caught my foot in
the same incautious step, against the roots of
a tree from which the spring rains had washed
away the earth. I was throwu headlong and
violently to the ground. I was stouued for a
moment.
My first sensation of returning consciousness
was a jlea.-ant one. I felt Bertha's old Land
upon my forehead. She had run swiftly to a
neighboring spring, and, with quick presence
of mind bad saturated her handkerchief and
mine, and she now was bathing my brow with
the water. I did not open my eyes at first.—
It was so pleasaut to lie there and receive her
Dlea>ant oiinistraicns. At length I felt her
ear close to my lips. By a resolute effort I
held my breath. I wished to try her. She
thought I was dead. She did not shriek or
moan ; only as if against her wiil, a cry, low
and sorrow fu! escaped—
" Oh, Frank, darling, darling !"
I slowly opened my eyes and met hers
There was a look in them 1 have never seen in
any other woman's before or since. Then I
knew Bertha Paysoneould love ; that she loved
me with a 1 ive that not cue womau ui tea
thousand could even understand.
I saw that underneath the marble heart her
passionate woman's heart was flame, but it was
n flame as pure as the heaven kimi|cd fires on
the altar of the God of the Hebrews. I knew
she loved me, and in the same momeut. that
with all the might of my heart I loved her—
that she alone was the woman to whom mind
and soul coo Id do homage, and say, " I have
found my Queen."
But I did not speak of lore then. I knew
she must have read my glance as I had read
hers, but she only said very quietly.
" Thank God that you are aiive. I must
leave yon now to see about gett.ng some oue
to take you home
" No, I can walk if you will help me."
I made the effort but could not rise. The
least attempt to move caused me such exquis
ite pain that I began to think my i; juries mast
be severe. I "said reluctautly,
"I am very sorry Bctha. I shall have to
let you go. I see it is inijiossibie tor me to
walk."
She drew a light summer <hawi from be r
shoulders, and arranged it so as to make the
position in which my head was lying a little
easier. Then she tripped away, and lyn g
t K ere, I watched, half dream:: g y. her light
figure go out of sight, down the h.II side.—
The time of her absence seemed very short
Except when I attempted to moTe I felt lit
tle pain, and never had been my soul so flood
ed with happiness. I loTed Bertha—l was
befoved by her. I felt too weak to speculate
about the future. I only rejoiced to the pres
ent
Soon Bertha returned with the village doc
tor, and two or three sturdy assistants. Ar
ranging a nastily constructed litter they start
ed to bear aie down tae hill. At the first jolt
the rnouon caused me intense pain. With a
longing sympathy. I stretched en: my hand.—
Bertba understood me, and laid ber own hand
in it; ard so with ber waitiug beside me, I
was bora home. No bones were broken by
my :a. My irjcr.es werea.i interna., thoag .
not dangerous ; but my convalescence was te
dious. In ail this time, Bertna was like an
angel of light. Sue shared with my mother tn
the labor of narsing me. She read to me, sang
to me ; or when I liked it better,?*! by me
in silence. It was sax weeks before I was
agaio able to wa'k about ; but in ai! this time
we had never spoken of Jove. With *!! my
run! I wxNhipped her ; but ay passion WAS
" RESARDLE3S OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANT QUARTER."
too reverent for light or hasty utterance. I
resolved to wait, until I could stand on the
hill top, where I had first my heart's love in
her eyes.
When at length, I could go out, my first
visit was made to Dr. Green. He had beeu
so kind and attentive, he seemed to take so
much pride in his success, that I could not re
fuse to take my first walk to his house, and
drink a cup of tea with his wife and a friei.d
c he had staying with her. It was with this
friend only that my story has to do.
God knows that I did not willingly put mv
self in the way of temptation.
How could I tell that in sitting l that sum
mer's ufternoon in Dr. Green's quiet parlor, I
should find a Circe ?
" Miss Ireton," said the Doctor's deep sonor
ous voice as I entered the room, and before
me rose a young, slight figure, robed in white,
with rces in her bosom, roses on her cheeks,
roses in her goldeu hair, that 'ay in ringlets
upon her dainty shoulders, and clustered round
her proud little head. Her eyes were bright
and full of smiles ; dimples played a hide and
seek among her cheeks' roses ; her lips were
full and red, and her complexion wonderfully
clear, with a quick changing color, infinitely
charming. Nellie Ireton was indeed beautiful.
Sometimes—even now out of the darkness of
death, and the grave, that face rises up to me.
and I see her stand before me once more, in
all her witching loveliness, as -he stood that
summer afternoon. If you had seen her then
you would have thought her immortal—that
death and change could never have come to
that form of grace, those eyes of light.
Miss Ireton was a practiced flirt. It was
not in the nature of all things, that any man
could love her as I loved Bertha. She could
not have comprehended Bertha's self-abri"na
tion, her heroism, her entire freedom ft cm all
vanity, all de>ire of triumph.
And yet her dominion over the senses was
absolute. I was born a worshipper of beauty.
I could not help admiring the airy grace of
movement, the sparkling change of her faPe,
and ttie smiles that hovered so archly about
her lips. Days passed and no fly was entan
gled ever more in a spider's nei, than I in the
meshes of her golden hair. At first I could
see Bertha was simply incredulous and u-toD
ished, then aw ild trouble began to darken the
clear gray of her eyes. All this time 1 loved
her. A single tone of her voice had more
power over uiv highest nature than ail tiie en
chantments of the others ; and yet I could
not break away from t'e fata!spell that bound
me. My sen-e were intoxicated—steeped in
delirium by the Circe. Can you comprehend
the enigma ? Its solution involves the history
of mauy a man's marriage besides his own.
Just at the right time. Miss Iretou brought
a new competitor in the field.
In a young law s'udent visiting the place I
fouud a rival. Nellie wis a good tactician
She played us off against ea h other most
adroitly, until we were inspired with all a
gamester's eagerness to win. Bertha had now
withdrawn herf!f from my society almost a'-
together. Indeed. I seldom visited her; but
whea 1 did i only saw her in the presence of
her mother. Every evening 1 pi-sed at Dr.
Green's. At la*:, in one fata! hour, I found
Mi-'.* Ireton alone. 1 proposed an i was ac
cepted far had my madn-> Listed : but
when I heard her faltering yes ; when the
golden head sank with fully a-, much triumph
as tei.derr.ess upOO my shmilder ; when I Au'il
have pressed the k -s of betrothal uj on her
lip*, a co'd shudder ran through my veins. I
closed my eyes for a moment, in the struggle
to rega n my clf command, and there before
my closed eyes. I saw Bertha stand as she had
stood that rnorirng. 1 saw her pale rapt face,
her eyes d.'ated with thought, fixed on thi
mis: over the valley. I heard her inspired
voice—
"Some time, even thn, from a!! proud
hearts the mist will roll suddenly away and
we shall see as we are seen, and kuow 'as we
are known."
Ala! in vain had the mr-t rolled aw.iv
frotn '.hut proud heari of Bertha Payson. show
ing me its hidden ftWMWtt. I h.ui rejected
the golden fruit of U**per;de£, lured by t!i
fair aetming apple of Sodom - and now 1 tun-'
wait vainly at the closed gates of Eden. We
have but one birth and one death, and the
charmed boor of fate comes but once to life.
My betrothed was speaking ; I roused mv
self to listen.
"I I ked you the very first time I saw TOO.
Mr Osborne : and I meant to make you like
me. You see I though; it would be more
lidSeuit, for Dr. Green told me that yon were
half in IOTC with that proad Berths Parson,
and I meant to s e if I couidn t make voa
fancy me in spite of all."
You succeeded only too well, little char
mer" There was a iuoun r ul truth in mv
answer, which her light heart did not pene
trate. Ido think Nellie loved me. or assne
-aid l.ked uie, as she was capable of lik.i g
Her freely expressed preference was sincere.
I should have a true wife, as tae world reck
or.s truth ; and yet in God's s ght, I should
be unmarried still. We two could never be
made one.
1 made haste to announce my engagement.
I hurried the preparations for uiy nuptials.—
I felt that ray only safety would i.e in leaving
HycSeldas soon as possible. Now that the
eicttetnent of tr.e ioverdriise wis over, and the
young law sta ;ent had saos-.ded into the quiet
fnecd of my affianced I could uot conceal trom
myself that I had set the seal on my own mad
foliT and condemned myse!f to an eternal yet
unavailing despair. I earefullj avoided any
opportunity at seeing Bertha 1 would not
have dared to trust myaeit in her presence.
It was the day before my br.dal. So far
had I traversed my path of thorns. I rose
rarij aud went out of door*. One more walk
I wtmld ia*Te to toe hill where the knowledge
of Bering's iova had come to me—down whose
slopes i had t eea borne with her hand in ra.ne.
It was September, but it had been a cool dark
summer, and the verdure aoag the h.ii side
was still fresh as Jane. Ic! mbed it rapidly
When I was wuiuo a few rods of its sammi: 1
loosed up A tail si ght tgsre was cloar'v
defined against the sky. Should Igoou ? j
Dared I meet Bertha then and there ? I an
swered these questions to myself l>y climbing j
on quietly and quickly. I could not help it.
In live minutes I stood hv Bertha's side. She !
had not heard my approach. Froud woman '
as she was, she had not been too proud to
weep. The tears glittered heavily upon her ,
long lashes. She made no vain attempt to ;
conceal them. She met my glance steadfast
ly,
'• Bertha," I said in a choking voice, " I did
not think to find you here."
i "Or I you,"she answered. "See, the mist
lies as heavily over the valley as when we stood j
here last. How little the scene is changed !" 1
" And how much everything else ! " I inter
rupted her wildly. " Bertha, it may be mad- j
ness or sin, but I must speak. I love you bet
ter than my soul. I always did love you but •
not with such passion, such despair as now. Is j
l it too late ? Must it be too late ? "
She 'looked ut me a moment in wonder, in
sorrow, tier dark, searching eyes questioned
me. Then her lip curled.
Would yon be twice a traitor, Frank Os
' borne ?"
"No !" I answered impetuously. " I would
not but return to my true allegiance. Nellie's
! pride would be wounded, but her heart would j
I not suffer much Aud you oh ! Bertha, you
did leve me—you do love me. Do not wreck
your life and mine."
' frank," said she quietly, yet earnestly,
" this is worse than folly, it is sin To-morrow
you will be the husband of another. What
right hare you to speak to me of love ? True
I did love once, but that dream is past. If
you w ere fret to-day I could not trust my hap
pmess to your keeping. Forget me, or think
of me only as a kind, well wi>hing friend."
" Is there no hope, Bertha?"
But I could not so give her up. The hour
had come I had dreamed of through my long
convalescence. I stood with Bertha again up
ou that Hill-top where I had meart to tell her
my love. I must plead with her a little longer.
Scarcely knowing what I said, I a-sailed her
with prayers. I poured out my very soul at
her feet But she only looked at me with her
dark, wistful eyes, and returned the same firm
reproachful No. At last I was silent. J saw
it was of no use. I had myself cast awav my
pearl of great price. I must he contented
hereafter with the glitter of my lost brilliant.
" ell," I saiii, humbly and sorrowfullv
enough, 4 1 do not deserve you. You are right,
Bertha. But give me your hand once more,
as y<m .1 d that morning ! Frieuds claim that
much. Bertha."
Site laid her fingers in mine. They did not
tremble, but they were very cold. SLe said
with a deep, pathetic earnestness :
"God bless you Frank Osborne! I, who
know yon so well, behove that you are sincere
in the words you have spoken to me this morn
ing. But y>>u must think such thoughts no
longer. Frank, happiness only comes to us
in the right. Your duty is to Miss Ireton.—
Fulfill it I conjure yon. You have a woman's
happiness iu your hand. Yon mu<t answer to
God for it. I conjure you to make her future
bright. Trust nothing to her light heartedn&s.
I tell you no woman's heart is light enough to
hear up under any want of love from the man
for whom she has given up nil things Io your
duty and you will fiud comfort even yet. Good
bye, Frank."
She turned away, and once more, ason that
more ;g, 1 watched her slight figure tripping
down th- hill. Her step was firm Her heart
ninst have been strong. She did not once lo'-fe
back. I watched her till I c->otd see her no
wn.g.r, And tbea I turned ai d looked moodi
ly over the vailey. Already the mist had .
parted, and !>efore the sun's fiery eye the val-1
• v lay onshrooded. andttguised, a? our so I'S I
:n ist -*and -ome day before llis eye. at whose ,
word the first sun rose and the last <un st. II
thought of the solemn import of Bertha's words, j
I had indeed a duty to perform. I cou d lay 1
..y In.rdeu of sin and ps;iuliment on no other's
-'••.'IT'S. It was not Nellie Ireton'S fault
that I had turned away from Berlin and a-k
--ci ber to be my wife. I owed her mv lite now :
Sn>* aid have it. I knelt upon the hill sue.
I oared my forehead to the cool breeze of the
S ptcro ber morning. I cried oat to heaven
for strength. T think ray prayer wis heard.
The nut day 1 W3> married. We left Rye
fieKl at once, and for three years I did not re
turn there.
I do believe—thank God for this gleam of
comfort—that I made Nellie happy. Io her i
own way she was fond of me. She loved socie
ty, mirth and fashion—she had them all. I
placed no restraint upon ber pleasures, tliough
I never accompanied ner Often she has re
turned from some gay party late at night, and
found roe sitting iu my study. She woald
boot 1 into my lap. at tiams, *'h ?. r fine
clu d like abandon, tell me what a fine time she
bad ; who bad talked to and complimented
her, and then a<keu with a com .cul >a r of se.f
it>fact;ots, if I was no: proauv* suei. a hand
some little wife.
You know I am handsome. you provnk'-<g
teassrg, clever old fellow, now don't you T~ was
usually the conclusion to the harangue ; and I
wouiu always give her the coufiru.ation she co
veted. Thar.k God, she never know now lone
ly my soul was in those days—how my heart
pired for companionship ; how ray spirit pant
ed for a Kindred spirit to share its doubts, its
seeking after the Infinity ! Taa-.k Gcd that
the lark :a the meadow was not gladder or
merrier than she!
She had been ray wife more than two vea-s
when sLe went cot one co d night, with her
far arms and neck uncovered, a d only an op
; era cloak tore wo over thetn as she drove to a
gy party. I had remonstrated. but she had
pleaded to be allowed to hare her own way,
and I could never brir.g myself to cross her in
! anything—l, wotjld never look at ber without '
j a remorseful couac ousnes* that the heart which j
; should have oeeu hers only shriaed in secret
the image of another. I strove, by the most
i lavish icd ge.uce even to her wh ms, to make
Iwhat eompensat.oa I could oerergive her.at-d
so this eight, as USUAL she had her will. She
did i?de*d. look rerv lovely with a rare deers 1
falling in such graceful folds about her little
figure—the golden curls just veiling but not
concealing the snow of her neck, and her arms
gleaming through misty lace Most men would
have been proud of her ; but I bad known one
woman whose simple superiority to all outside
decorations so far transceuded all the aids of
dress and fashions that I could not triumph in
the mere beauty of the external.
For once the consequences of myindo'geDce
was disastrous. That night Nellie took a se
vere cold. In a few days it settled upon her
lungs, and then medical skill was of no avail
She grew rapidly worse, and they made her a
grave beneath the cold gray sky of March.—
Through her illness I had been a patient nurse.
.She died with her head on my bosom. With
almost her last breath she told me I bad made
her very happy, when I stood over her grave
I mourned for l.er sincerely. I would have
given much to call her back to life ; nay, I
would have been willing—life was not so pre
cious to me, to have taken her piace under the
mould, so that she couid have walked forth
again in youth aud beauty, and yet as weeks
passed OH, God who judgeth not as man jndg
eth, will forgive me if a wild thrill of joy did
sometimes inuke my heart quiver when I tho't
of the love of my youth aud remembered that j
I was free. \
After a time I went home to Ryeficld, I
sought B- rtha's society. At first it seemed to !
me that she tried to avoid me. Bat I perse
vered. I know she must felt to the co _ e of
her heart the sincerity of uiy love. Would
she ever again return it ?
At last, one night, I asked ber to go with
me the next morning to the hill overlooking
the valley, where we had stood together so
manv times in other days. She consented
We rent up the hill almost in silence and
when we reached its summit we stood silently i
for a time.
At length I turned to ber.
" Bertha, there was a time when, as the
morning mAt rolled away from your heart, and I
I saw its hidden treasures, your love for me.
I have sinned since then ; but oh. Bertha, 1
have suffered. I loved you first, last, always.
With nil the might of my sou! I love you now.
Will you tuke me, and weave the broken thread? ,
cf my life into brightness at iasi ?
She looked at me steadfastiy and sorrowful- i
!y.
" Frank," she said, with a gentle, pitying
aspect, "I came here because you wanted to i
a?k me that question. I couid ee you were
cherishing hopes about me that I ought nut to
let you cherish any longer. It was a!! in vain.
I will be your friend Frank, your warm tender
friend, but the day for anything else is past
There was a ti.ue when I would have gone
with you to the world's end ; but you yourself
made my love a sin. I could not cherish it for
the husband of another. Frank, I conquered
it, and on earth it can have no resurrection.—
By the wild agony of its death-throes I know
that it is dead—dead utteriy. You can never
a_rain k.ndle the life in its cold corp-e. If vou
wronged me once. I forgive you. If JOB are
an happy I pity you. On earth I never ran
have a dearer friend than yon. but the Svne i
on my heart's altar is bnrned to white ashes.
1 can never l>e your wife."
I looked in her clear, friendly ey-s. An '
angel's pity soften -d their glance. but tli-v i
were not ouee casi. down. I couid see in t iein
no shadow of hope. I turnec away troru their
wisilul look. I uttered no more prayers. I
only clasped her hai.d in mne, and some tears
Iw as not ashamed to shed fell over it. Then
I let go. Once more sue went down the hill
alone, and I was left upon its brow to strug
gle with the anguish of my despair. Oh,
Bertha, Bertha.
ARTEIT s WARD'S OURR!\G FXRSTRIRY-E.—
Twas a earra -uli n te in Joon. when ail natur
was husiit A ruary Zeffer disturbed the ser-ne
silense. I sot th the ol.jek of mi bart'-
nffeck-hiips on the fence nv her daddy's was tar.
I bad experienced a bui.-kerin arter hui fer some
time, butdarsunt prociame mi poslioiß. Weil
we sot tlnr on the fense a swinging of our feet •
*2 A frojr A Uoshioß m read m the BaUtiagtoo
skale bonze when it was first paint j, A .k
ed very cimptil, I tnake no dowt. My left
arm was ok ipide iff baUousiu nays'.if on the I
fciise wii !e my rite arm was wound aff •sauui
te\v r<-.a 1 Snzinners vri>'e.
S 7. I, "S izanner i thinks very much of
you."
>ez -he. " How ti d : run on."
Sex I, " I wish there was wir.d-?r '■ mi - !e
scz vou coo"! see mv feelins." A I e J.piv
I pawd !>ere, bnt as ; he mtde no reply to
it, I contiuu ion tie following straae :
" Ah. ec-od yer know the rite I
parse on yer account, how tittles have =eas|
to le a tractive tu me A haw ml limbs is shrank
no. ye woodn't coat me net by no
Gre on ;hi- wa-tin form At sonken 7-."
I cride. jumping np. I shool l have e<ntinn--1
s u " ie r iigt-r j.robih'y, lot on'ortunatr'r 1
! -f Qi balar.ee A fell over tote the p.-; or ker
smash, taring ray c ose and domogia ;ryse.'
generally Sozanner sprung to my assist ir.ee
A dragged ine 4ih in dobl>!e quick tire:. Tt.cn
drawing herself up to her full h.te ; - i ;
" I wont listin to your nor'-? ts e.oy longer.
Jest yu sa rite cut what yos are driv.a at. If
ya mean gittin hitch'-d I'm in "
THE Mom'S —Young man ! Thy mother D
t'ay best eart'dy fric- ■] The world may forget
yoa—thy mother never • thw worii may tii>
' 7 J 4 ' l tna r y wrongs—thy Mtkr neve";
the world may per* cute you wnile living, anu
when dead, plant the ivy and the nigbuhade
of slander upon your grassie&s grate —but thy
mother wiii love ard cherish TOO while living
and if she surv.ve.s you, will weep for too whr
deal, such tears as none ou; a mother knots
how to weep. Love thy mother !
S&- Au lowa editor sa 1 bis attent ca *i<
first drawn to the su' ject of matrirßony. ojr
the skillful manner in which a Mun pretty
girl handled the fcrm j whereupon a broth
er editor remark--?! that the manner ia whir'
hi* wife h sod led the broog: was z,: so :op:l
--rating.
VOL. XX. —NO. 15.
! Tea Culture in the United States.
! The importation of tea plants and seed by
I the U. S. Patent Office, and preparations mak
ing by that Bureau for a practical attempt at
tea culture in this country, gives a fresh inter
est to the subject. Similar experiment, on a
scale comparatively limited, have been made
jiu former yeais, particularly by the late Dr
Junius Smith, of South Carolina, whose com
munications in relation thereto, frequently ap
peared in these columns ; and though his ef
. forts resulted in no immediate success, they
i cannot be said to have been uselessly made.—
• On the contrary, they afford the very best as
i surance that it is practicable to produce tea in
i this country. Such at least was his own opin
ion and this is the belief fully entertained by
those familiar with his endeavors. ThcCharles
, ton Courier of a late date says :
| "We regard that exfierimeDt a3 proving
conclusively the adaption of the tea plant to
the climate of Greenville District. It was
the opinion of Dr. Smith after a careful exam
ination, that portions of the mountain region
of North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia,
and Tennessee, were better adapted to tea,
than a great proportion of the land cultivated
iu Cliina. This opinion was derived not only
from examination of the soil, and persouai in
: quirv as to the climate and conditions of tbo
I weather, Lut from a study of meteorological
i records and observations. The same opinion
, as to our soil and climate was confidently ex
-1 pressed by M. Francis Donynge, whose visit
| some eight years since will be remembered by
: many readers, as his views were uttered thro*
the Courier, in several appeals in behalf of tea
; culture.
Dr. Smith was Dot far from seventy years
of age when he began his experiments in
; Greenville district, South Carolina, and could
; he have transmitted his acquirements and re
! sources to a successor, there appears to be uo
reason why Lis plantation should not have coa
tinned so flourish.
The U. S Commissioner of Patents, in his
' la-t annual Report, presents the results of a
careful inquiry as to the nature of the soil and
climate p ssessii-g the conditions necessary for
the production of the tea plant ni a largepor
; tion of our territory, and that it only requires
j enterprise, capital, and intelligence, to bring
th:> bra! ch of industry into successful compe
tition with the Celestials. Improved machine
j rv and other appliances for preparing the arti
cle, wiil afford an ample substitute for the
cheap labor of China. Even should there be
A deficiency in this respect at first, the prover
| bial ingenuity of American mechanics would
prove adequate to every exigency. That skill
; that produced the cotton gin, still exist* to be
stow on the country u tea Manipulator.
The adaption of climate aod soil being de
termined, no impediment exists to opening a
n w scarce of national wealth. Tire remutene-s
of the tea-growing countries of the old world
w.l; eu-u-e " protection" for native industry.
T;.„- Com mi.--: oner of Patents has stated, in
a circular, that no disposal w ill be made of the
plants no* growing at the propagating gar
dens !;~fure the next meeting of Congress, after
which a fea.-:bie piaa will lie proposed for their
distribution.—Journal of Ctmmtrot.
DEATH. —The article on " Death " in th
New Cyclopedia, has the following : As life
approa- he- extir.cion, insensibility supervenes
—a numhne-s and disposition to repose, which
do not ad at of the idea of suffering. Even iu
those case- where the activity of the mind re
mains to the last and where nervoas saosihiHtjr
would seam to continue, it is surprising hour
often :!. re has been observed a .-tate of happy
feeling on the approach of death. If I had
strength enough to hold a pen I would wrtu
how easy and Idightful it is to die," were the
last w. r .s of the celebrated Wm. Hunter,dur
ing h s las', mrjietits.
" Mo:.taiga®, in one of his essays, describee
an a .videat width left b.m -a insen-:tle, that he
was taken op for d-ad. Oa being restored,
, however, : e says ; " Me-thought my life ooly
hang r.;va my lips ; and I shut my eyes to
help threat it not, and took a pleasure laiv
g lis] kg .. ttii g mywll go." A waMf in
ih *1: art ;•].* R vew records that a gentle*
man wio i.j been r. -■re i from drowning
c' ir-d that h • had not experience;! like slightest
feeling of - T cation. '* The stream was trans
paren', th® day brill. ast, and as he srixal op
ngi.t lie c . ?e tie sun shining thrmgh the
water with a dreamy foaseifrusnc.ss that his
eyes were about to I e eles I on it for-rer.—.
Vet he neither feared h s fate nor wished to
avert it.—A c epj sensation, which soothed
and gra 3-1 si, ta-ao a i .xarloos bed of a
, watery grave."
A N- . Sr ST —Two larkic* had bought
a me-< ■ F'-rk in partner- ..p ; but Sa;a hav
ing noplace to pit h - wr a ia, consented to
enrra-i li.e :oie to J u. * keeping.
Tt.c c.-x: UJJT.I. .g i .ey wet, when Sam
'* G sod lao-ain. Jula-, anything happen
s-rnnge or JOSA in voar wtctiuty
lately r
" Vti!. Sin, most strange thing happen at
ray house jest; rlast night. Ail mystery, ail
mystery to
'• A . Ju. as, w hat wasdvt ?"
" Wr.. S.*n 1 toie you n w D - raonin I
w-rat :.\a i: ode seller for to get a p,ece of
kog for - Agfi '• e.il* and I pot my
hard dowu i;. do brine an felt roaud, but no
pork CP-** —all gone. CoaldnT tell wh3t
'.ewer!": w "hi% so I turned up debar"!, an Sara
true at pre. min'de rats had ea: a hole clar
froo , -••era of de tar*! and dragged da
pots ad cat ;
Sam wa-:"trlfied w h astonishment, but
| p.-esen'ly sa: 1—
" M"-y d a .'t de brine run out ob de wra-s
bev'e ?" "
" An, Sags, dat's de mystery—dat demys
terr''
1
—— *
* t - g-ara? appeared in *he
. vo-Id. y--j may k. jw him by ar. infaUibS sigo,
• titt '*•• d:r.eesare in agxiast him.