ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
Thursday liTcrning, May 3, 1860.
Sclcrfcb Jlottrn.
IF WE KNEW.
BY KITH BKXTOX.
If we knew the cares and crosses
Crowding round i..ir neighbor's way,
II we knew the little losses,
Sorely grevious, day by day.
Would we then so often chide him
For his lack of thrift and gain-
Leaving on his heart a shadow,
Leaving on our lives a stain ?
If we knew the clouds above us,
Held by gentle blessings there.
Would we turn away all trembling,
In our blind and weak despair?
Would we shriuk from little shadows,
Lying on the dewy grass,
While 'tis only birds of Eden,
Just in mercy flying past?
If we knew the silent story,
Quivering through the heart of pain,
Would oar womanhood dare dupiu them
llack to haunts of guilt again ?
Life hath many a tangled crossing ;
Joy hath many a break of woe ;
And the cheeks, tear washed, are whitest;
This the blessed angels know.
Let us reach in our bosoms
For the key to other lives,
And with love towards erring nature,
Cheri.-li good that -till survives ;
So that when oar disrobed spirits
Sour to realms of light again,
We may say, dear Father, judge us
As we judged our fellow-men.
Sclcdci (talc.
THE MIDNIGHT WATCH.
CIIAiTKR I.
'• For the watch to babble and talk.
Is most tolerable, and not to be endured."
A/ucA Ado About .\othing.
About the period when the civil wars be
tween the Republican and Royalist parties in
Rutland had terminated, after the execution
of the unfortunate Chailes I , in the utter de
fat of I:is son at the battle of Worcester, and
t ? dispersion of all the adherents to the Rov
ai cause, a small castellated mansion, not far
from the eastern coast of England, was gar
risoned by a party t)f the Parliamentary troops.
This mansion, which had belonged to a Roy
alist family who had fled the land, having been
seized upon and confiscated by the Parliamen
tary commissioners employed in sequestrating
the property of confirmed enemies of the com
monwealth, had been converted into a sort ol
fortress or strong'wld, the natural defences
and isolated position of which, rendered it ;>"
ouliarly adapted as a place of confinement tor
prisoners of war. its situation, at the same
time, so near the coatt, gave it an additional
advantage as a post of observation, whence
measures might l>e taken for the interception
of such Royalists, who, proscribed as obsti
nate malignYUts, might no led to t!;i< part of
the country in their attempts to seek the means
of escape.
Flanked on one side by the waters of the
river, this isolated house was cut off on the
other three by a broad ditch or moat, being
thus entirely surrounded by water, except at
one point the most remote from the river,
where it communicated by a wooden bridge
with a causeway, lined by an avenue of trees,
which served as an approach, and traversed at
some length a low level tract of land before
it reached the higher and more hilly country.
A similar tract of level, but of a more marshy
and swampy description, stretched along the
opposite bank of the river, terminating at
some distance by a line of low well-wooded
hills. Not far from the hou-e, which stood
thus alone, like a solitary bittern in a Dutch
landscape, the river widened suddenly into a
large expanse of water, called in this part of
England a " broad," which was itself only
separated from the sea by a narrow strip of
low sand-banks, and sandy downs or deanes,
as they are there termed, and extended thus
aloug the shore to some distance, when again
assuming the form of a river, it poured its wa
ters into the German Ocean.
Of the more ancient part of this mansion,
which boasted (it was never well known upon
what authority) a Roman origin, only a large
circular tower was left, which was attached
somewhat awkwardly,like an ill-adjusted head
piece, on to the more modern budding. Al
though constructed in the comparatively peace
ful times of Henry All's reign, the more mod
ern house had been evidently built with some
ideas of strength and defence, and iu a demi
castellated form,various smaller additions liave
been made to it at subsequent and different
periods, without any great observance of order
or style.
Behind the main body of the house thus ir
regularly constructed, was a species of small
inuercourt or garden, enclosed between the old
tower and the walls that connected it with the
mansion on one side, and a wing of the build
ing which extended to the side of the stream
ou the other ; whilst opposite to the back of
the house, which was now wholly unoccupied,
and almost in a ruinous state, a strong and
thick jiorapct skirted the river, and completed
the parallelogram. Formerly an opeuing in
the centre of this parapet had evidently con
ducted by several steps to the water's edge, in
order to facilitate th* communications .with
boats on the river ;but it had now been
blocked up by a fresh mass of heavy brick
work and masonry, as if for the purpose of
adding security to the place ; and at the time
we write, two e'ulvcrins, mounted- so as to be
ou a level with the top of the parapet, contri
buted to give to the spot the look of a forti
fied stronghold. The forms of flower-beds of
priui shapes, the former decorations of the
spot, might still be traced here and there iu
the now almost level aud sandy surface of the
coast, giving evidence that some pains had
probably-been originally bestowed upon this
interior inclosnre. But beyond these faint
traces of flower beds, nothing now remained
of its better days but a few evergreens aud
other bushes, which, growing close by the par
apet wall, had equally escaped the rude tramp
ling of the unheeding soldiers, or the wanton
deva>tatioti3 of some of the over zealous of
the day ; men who looked upon all adornment,
of whatever kind, al 1 appearance of gratifica
tion of a refined taste, however innocent, as
sinful and condemnable. A vaulted passage
traversed the wing of the ludding meutioned
as stretching to the water's edge, and formed
the u-ual and more direct communication be
tween this sort of court aud other parts of the
establishment.
Late on a fine autumn afternoon of the year
11552, some little time after the battle of Wor
cester, a young man, musket on arm, paced up
and down this inner court as sentinel ll.s
dress, which partook of the military uniform ;
of the times, without precisely belonging to
any particular regiment, and the finer cloth of
some parts of his attire, which was of a far
finer texture than was customary upon the
person of a common soldier, proved that he
was one of the many volunteers who had en
rolled themselves among the troops of the
Parliamentary army, and probably of gentler
birth than might bo generally found employed
iu such humble military functions. Loose
boots of so great a size towards their upper
part, that each might have been imagined to
contain, at least, half a calf skin, mounted to !
ward his large hose of plain but good material, j
A tuck or rapier of some length was girded
round h.s loins ; a c rslet with bandoleer slung
around it covered the front of his buff coat ;
and a morion, destitute of all feather or orna
ment, concealed for the greater part his hair,
closely clipped in compliance with the puritan
ical fashions of the times, the color of which,
| however, might be divined by the fairness oi
| the young mustache that curled lovingly about
his upper lip.
Sometimes, a< lie paced backwards and for
; wards upon his lonesome watch, the eye of the j
young man rested for a while upon the dull
swampy landscape, the chief beauty of which,
; at the moment, was a slight haze that hovcr
| ed over stream and marsh, and stunted willow
and distant hill, tinged with a golden hue from
the slanting rays of the sun ; the only living ;
1 sights and sounds of which were busy flights
of gnats whirling up and down with drowsy
' hum ; au occasional frog, that splashed from
the opposite .-bore iuio the water with an un
easy croak ; aud one solitary fisherman, who,
; after having drawn up his boat among the
rushes on the river's bank, near the opening
upon the " broad," and lelt his line to float
• along the lazy stream, seemed to have lain
down in his broad flat-bottomed punt, to sleep
at his ease. he paused to scrutin
ize more earnestly the heavy pile of the old
tower, to guard all egress from which might
be supposed, from his periodical examination
of its walls, to be the peculiar duty cf his
pot. Sometimes again he gazed listlessly up
on the marks of devastation, where the carved
armorial bearings of the family to whoar the
m u.sioti had belonged, had been hacked away
from the walls of tiie building, and other sym
bol- of nobility or religion had been wantonly
1 mutilated or destroyed ; and at such moments,
an almost unconscious sigli wouid escape him,
ill a voiding with the tenets of the party which
he evidently served. But most generally his
attention was directed towards a low window
in the first floor of the projecting wing, not
very many feet above the level of the ground,
in front of which a small wooden balcony, fi.ll
-1 ed with flowers, showed that the occupant of
the chamber to which it belonged was proba
bly of the gentler sex, and of an age when
such matters are still objects of tender and
careful solicitude. At these times, evidences
■ of impatience almost amounting to petti.-hness,
: j would appear in his uneasy gestures ; and af
ter a scrutiny cf some duration, he would
again turn awav to resume his pacing, with a
look of trouble and ar.n yance upon his brow.
. The handsome features of that fine face, how
ever, were not formed to express grief, nor that
clear bright eye sorrowful thought ; yet, such
were the circumstances of the times, that when
i ever disengaging them from associations con
nected with the balconied window, as his re
| flections reverted to himself and his own po
! sition, his countenance would fall, and his eye
cloud over with an expression cf sadness.
Gerald Clynton was of old family and no
ble birth His father, Lord Clynton, had
• j doatcd upon his wife with the fondest and
most exclusive affection ; and the birth of
Gerald, his second son, having been the occa
j sion of her death in childbed, the agonized
husband, who was 'inconsolable for her loss,
had never been able to look upon the child,
and, in its infant years, had banished it alto
gether from his sight. The time arrived, how
• ever, when it became necessary to remove the
t little boy from the sole care of menials, and to
■ ; commence the rudiments of his education ; and
:at that period Mr. Lyle, the brother of the
- | deceased Lanv Clynton, finding the aversion
I of the father towards the poor innocent cause
! of the mother's death still more strongly root
; ed by time, and his whole paternal affections
- ! centred ami lavished upon his eldest boru, had
i taken the child to his home, and, being him
f self childless, bad treated,aud as it were adopt
. ed. the boy as his own son.
1 Time crept on. The boy grew into the
vonth : the youth approached to the man ;
i but still Lord" Clynton evinced no interest in
- his voung son—gave no demonstration of
i awakening affection. With time also crept
i j on the angry and troubled clouds that arose
i i upon the political horizon of the land. The
■ ! storm at length burst forth. The fatal strug
-1 glccomtneuced betweeuthe unfortunatcCbarles
and his Parliament; and the civil wars broke
out. A staunch Royalist, Lord Clynton join
• ed with enthusiasm the cause of the monarch;
while Mr. Lyle, whose tenets were of the
Presbyterian persuasion, aud whose political
| opinions were entirely of that party, found
i i himself carolled iu the ranks of the Parlia-
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. O'MEARA GOODRICH.
" R.E3AC.DLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
mentary army, in which his name and fortune,
and his active, but stcru, cold courage, gave
him much influence.
Entirely deprived of the affections of a fath
er, whom he never remembered to have seen,
and on whom, with the usual levity of boyhood,
lie seldom or never bestowed a passing thought,
Gerald Clynton, or Gerald Lyle, as he was
constantly called after his uncle—and most
people knew not that lie bore any other name
—naturally imbibed the opinions and senti
ments of his protector; and, when the civil
war was openly declared, followed him to the
camp. The reflection never crossed him, that
the uukuown author of his being might be en
gaged iu the ranks of the enemy ; that his
uncle and his father might chance to meet face
to face upon the battle field ; that either his
real parent, or the parent of his affections,
might fall by the hand of the other. To do
justice to the feelings of the youth, uo idea of
the kind had ever been suggested to him by
his uncle, not a word mentioned of the politi
cal sentiments of his father. Colonel Lyle—
for such became his rank in the Parliamentary
army—was a man of firm adherence to his
principles, and although a cold, hard man, in
all things but his affection for his adopted sou,
too earnest and eager a supporter of the par
ty for which he to allow such a prose
lyte to what he considered the just and upright
cause—snch a follower iu his own footsteps as
his nephew—to escape him o:i account of any
j family considerations, which he stigmatized as
| "prejudices to be despised and set at naught
' in so holy a matter."
Enrolled as a volunteer in his uncle's regi
| nient, Gerald had, iu some of the scanty mo-
I merits of peace and repose snatched between
the quickly following phases of the struggle,
found opportunities to cultivate the acquaint
ance cf an old friend of his uncle's—an officer
in the same regiment—or rather, it ought to
be owned without reserve, the acquaintance of
; tiie fair daughter of that friend. Iu these
troubl. d but precious moments it was, that
j Gerald's young heart first awakened to love :
| and when, upon the death of his uncle, Colo
! lie! Lyle, who never recovered from the wounds
j he had received upon the field of A'aseby, pld
Lazarus Seaman received the command of the
regiment, it was again the bright eyes of pret
ty Mistress Mildred that served as a loadstone
to attach him to it, and to attract him to fol
low the troop which garrisoned the lone man
sion upou the eastern, coast of England ; for
Colonel Lazarus Seauiau was the governor or
commander of this impromptu sort of fortress ;
and Cohftiel Lazarus Seaman's daughter-, his
1 only and motherless child, quitted her father's
side as little as possible. She it was who was
the tenant of the room appertaining to that
balconied window, A those bright & carefully
tended flowers, to which the eyes of Gerald
now so often strayed, as he paced up and down
the dull court, to perform the duties of senti
uel.
Gerald's thoughts, however, as already inti
mated, were not placed, nor were they excld
sively occupi d by the object of his affections.
They dwelt, from time to time, with grief up
on ids uncle, whose death had excited iu him
so many bitter regrets ; and those sad recol
lections, in their turn, called forth in him oth
er reflections of a new and painful nature. He
recalled to mind how, in his dying moments,
the self elected father of his youth had sum
moned him to his side, and talked to him of
that other father whom he hud never known ;
how he had spoken, iu broken accents and
with ranch remorse, of the possible hatred en
gendered between father and son ; of his own
regrets, now first clearly awakened in him, that
he himself might have been the cause of such
a consummation ; and how then, with his last
breath, he in vain endeavored to murmur ex
pressions of bitter repentance for some cruel
wrong done, the nature of which no longer
met the ear of the anxious listener, and was
soon left forever unexplained in the silence of
d ath. These sad remembrances led to a train
of thought of a most painful and harassing
description. His position as a voluntary sup
porter of a cause repugnant to the principles
of a father whom, although unknown to him,
1 it was his duty to honor aud obey, aud as affi
anced to the daughter of a man whose repub
lican principles were so decided, appeared to
him involved with the most perplexing difficul
ties. New and conflicting feelings had arisen
iu the young man's breast. There was already
within him a bitter struggle between love and
dutv—between long inculcated opinions and
r.ewly awakened emotions. As the one or the
other feeling predominated, Gerald walked
backwards aud forwards with gloomy face, or
turned to gaze upon the window, the closed
casement of which seemed then to call forth
from him gestures and words of a somewhat
: testy impatience.
" the knows that this is my hour for mount
ing guard, and yet she comes not to the win
dow. She shows no sign of the least thought
or care for me," he muttered angrily to him
! self, stamping more firmly and sharply as he
recommenced his pacing, after a pause in which
he had eyed the window with bent brow and
bitten lip. " But she does not love me," he
added bitterly. " She has never loved me.—
She has never done otherwise than trifle with
my affections—seeking the demonstrations of
' my love to feed her vanity, and then flinging
them aside with the sick stomach of an Jovcr
pampercd child. lam a fool to let myself be
thns dragged at her skirts, in such tinselled
leading strings. No ; 1 will loose myself from
this thraldom. But what if she love another?
More than once I have thought she looked
: with much complacency upon that young re
cruit—the new volunteer —that May-wood, I
think they call him. Were it true, 'sdea{h !
I would slit his cars for him. God forgive
■me the oath !'' Gerald asked no forgiveness
for the revengeful thought.
He was still continuing his half muttered
soliloquy of jealousy and spite, w hen the click
of a casement-hasp caught his lover's car. Iu
! a moment, the angry expression- of his brow
was cleared away like a mist before the sun—
-1 a bright gleam" ot satisfaction illumined his
i countenance, as he looked eagerly and hastily
towards the window of Mistress Mildred's
, chamber. The casement opened, and first ap
: peared a fair hand, which, with a long taper
ing jug of blue and white Dutch porcelain, was
- bestrewing water upon the flowers in the little
, wooden balcony. Then there stood at the
, open window a youthful female form ; but the
, head was bent down so low over the flowers—
-5 the damsel was so absorbed iu her gentle oc
t cupation—she was, of course, so completely
■ unaware of the presence of any person in the
- court below who might enpect a greeting from
! her, that it was difficult at first to distinguish
i the features. A pure white, pinched, and
t pkiited cap covered the bended head, but not,
- however, so entirely as fully to contain or hide
i a profusion of dark brown hair, which perhaps
; according to the fashion of the times, it should
i have done. Through the flowers, also, that
, partially obscured the long low window, might
be distinguished part of a sad-colored gown,
f the simplicity of which, in its make, could not
- conceal, as perhaps it ought to have done, the
rounded outlines of a full but graceful furm ;
- while, at the same time, its dull hue was
' charmingly relieved—of course without any
s intention of coquetry —by a ruff and gorget of
i the most glittering purity, and at the end of
, the long sleeves, by two small, delicate, white
- cuffs, which seemed to be playing a game of
- rivalry with llie little hands for the palm of
t fairness.
i As Gerald hemmed, and conghed, and
' shuffled with his feet impatiently, he imagined,
s for a moment, that one hasty glance of the
t eyes which bent over the flowers was directed
iu the court, and then averted with the quick
ness of lightning, but he was no doubt mistak
en ; for when the task of watering tiie plauts
i was at an end, the head was only raised to
watch the clouds for a very short space of
■ time—sufficient time, however, to show two
• dark pencilled eyebrows placed over a pair of
> bright dark eyes, iu that peculiar arch which
; gives a look of tormenting esyitgkr'u to the
: expression, and iu the blooming cheeks, full,
but not too full for grace, two laughter-loving
: dimples, which impart : 1 to a lovely counteu
• 1 ance a joyous and fascinating character—and
; then was again withdrawn. The fair white
! hand again already rested upon, the hasp of
the easement, as if to close it, when Gerald,
- ! who had waited with renewed feelings of vex
; j ation the greeting of Lis lady-love, called in a
. low, but almost angry tone of voice, " Mildred*
. I —Mistress Mildred !'
" Master Gerald Lyle, is it you ? Who
■ would have thought that you were there?"
: said pretty Mistress Mildred, again showiug at
: the window her arch countenance, the expres
: sion of which seemed to be at most wicked
; variance with her prim attire.
" Methiuks a friendly greeting were not ill
I bestowed upon an old acquaintance,'' muttered
the young man iu the same tone of testy Impa
i tience.
•' Know Vou not," responded the damsel,
with something of the canting whine adopted
at the time, and in a semi-serious tone, to the
' geuuinencss of which her dimples very naughti
ly gave a direct lie—whatever their mistress
might have intended—" Know yon not that
such bowings of the head, and hissings of the
, hand, are but vaia and worldly symbols and
j delusions."
" Trifle not with me,l beseech you, Mildred,"
; said the vexed lover, " for my lieai t is sad and
mv mind is harassed. During the weary hours
of mv watch, I have longed for a stniie from
; that sweet face—a glance from those bright
; j eyes, as my only solace ; and yet the hours
passed by and you came not to your window,
although I had let you know that it was my
duty to keep his watch ; and when you did
■ come, you would have left again without a
I >iugle word to me. This was unkind. And
- ! now you are there, you bend your brow upon
1 me with an angry look. What have I done to
; ; offend you, Mildred? You cannot doubt my
; | love, my truth "
; j " And what is there in my conduct or in my
; words that can justify Master Lyle in thus
treating me as a trifler?" answered
- 1 with a pouting air, avoiding anv direct answer
:to all his other remarks. "Methiuks 1 lmve
cverv right to bo offended it so uoiust an ae
- cusation." But iu sp.te of the gross offence,
- Mistress Mildred now seemed to have no
> thought of punishing it, by withdrawing from
- the window.
i " I offend you !—you know I would give the
whole world, were it mine, to spare you one
1 painful feeling," cried the young man. "It is
1 vou who wrong me, it is you who are unju c t,
4 ! and even now you seek to quarrel with me.—
i But perliflps you wish to break the troth you
■ have given me—perhaps your light heart has
i already offered its affections to another 1"
i 1 "As vou will Sir. Perhaps my light heart,
t as you are pleased to term it, would do well to
i seek some less morose and tetchy guardian,"
- j said the young lady, tossing up her head, and
- preparing again to close the window.
t But as her eyes fell upon the despairing look
- and gestures ol her lover, the arched eyebrow
■ was uukjiit, and raised with an expression of
i cottfic vexation ; a smile Inrked for a moment
1 iu-the dimples aud corners of the pouting
inoutli ; and then at last broke out into a fiit
■ i of decided laughter.
i ! After indulging a moment in her mirth Mil
f dred looked at the young man lonuly, and said,
; "Go to, Gerald ! you show not the patient
- ' spirit of a Christian man ; and even now your
4 face wears such a frown, as rnethinks mast
i 'nave wrinkled the brow of the jealous blacka
i ' moor in those wicked stage-plays, of which my
I poor mother told me, before my father chid
1 her for it, and bid her cease to speak of snch
- vanities—fie now ! cnt upon you ! shall I throw
1 yon down ray little mirror that yon may see
! face ? Well !I am a naughty, forward child.
> ! Sec there ! I am sitting on the stool of pen
s ! ance, and I ask thy pardon."
" Forgive me also," cried Gerald, springing
1 • forward, his heart melting before the arch look
i of fondness that beamed down upon him.—
i " Forgive me mv pettish impatience with yon,
i- Mildred."
" Forgiveness of injuries is ordained us as
s our first of duties," rejoined Mildred with
v another demure look, which was all the wick
s eder for its deniurcucss.
" Bat why came you not before, my Mil
dred? " said the lover, with a slight lingering
tone of expostulation ; "you know not the bit
terness of those couutlecs minutes of anxiety,
and doubt, and eager waiting."
" I could not leave my father," replied Mil
dred more seriously ; " although he knows and
approves our attachment, he would have chid
me had he been aware that I come to have
: speech of you from my window ; and as it is, I
have done wrong to come. Besides he was
wearv, and bade mo read to him, and 1 sat by
his side, and read to him the Bible, until, in
the midst of an exhortation to watch and pray,
I heard a sound that he himself might have
called an uplifting of the horn of Sion, and be
hold he was snoring in his chair ; and then, in
the naughtiness of my heart, I stole from his
presence, to come to my room—and—and—
tend my flowers," she added, with an arch
smile.
" You thought of me, then,and came though
late, to see me?" said Gerald eagerly.
" You ? Did I not say my flowers, Master
Gerald ? 'asked Mildred, still laughing.
" Oh ! mock mc no longer, cruel girl ! Yon
know not all I have suffered during this ted
ious watch—all the doubts and fears with
which my poor mind has been tortured. Did
you know, you would console, not mock me,
and one word would console all. Tell me you
■ love me still."
" One word you say—what shall it lie ? "
said Mildred, raising her eyebrows as if to
seek the word ; and then, looking down upon i
him kindly, she added, " Ever."
" And you love none but me ? you have no
thought for any other ?" continued the lover,
with an evident spice of jealousy still lurking
j iu his mind.
" What two words now ? " said the laugh
ing girl. " Are all lovers such arrant beggars?
, give them a penny and they ask a groat.—
I Well! well 1 but one other, and that shall be
: the last. None," and as Mildred spoke, she
i bent herself ever the balcony to smile on Ger
j aid, and rested one tiny baud, of course uu
| consciously, on the outer frame work.
! " Thanks, thanks, mv dear, my pretty, my
darling Mildred !" exclaimed the young nun,
and as he spoke lie Sprang, musket on arm,
| upon a stoue bench, which stc J out from the
the wall immediately under Mistress Mildred's
• window, and endeavored to snatch the white
baud that just peeped so invitingly over the
edge of the low woodeu balcony.
" Out upon, Master Sentinel 1 " said the
young lady, putting back her hand. "Is it
thus you keep your watch? Another such
step, and I shall sound the alarm,and denounce
you as deserter to your post. Look ye !
your prisoner will escape."
Gerald instinctively turned his head to the I
old tower behind him,as he stepped down again
from the stone beueh, with somewhat of that ;
tail-between-the-legs-iock, which a spaniel
wears w hen repulsed from his mistress' lap.— j
But there was no one stirring, lie shook his
head repr oachfully at the laughing girl.
" Nay ! I did but remind y .of your duty,"
said Mildred ; " and you know my father sets
much store by the capture of this prisoner,
whom he supposes to be some one of rank and
note ; a fugitive from the dispersed ttTmy of
the raalignants ; perhaps a fricud of the young
King of Scots, and as such, aw. re of Lis re
treat."
I saw him as they brought him hither, after
capturing him in an att :..pt to gain the coast
replied the young soldier. " lie is an old
cavalier, of a stately and goodly presence, al
though cast down by his ill fortune. But j
enough of this. Tell me, Mildred " —But here I
the ears of the young couple caught the sound
of a distant bell as it came booming over the
water of the broad.
" Hush It is the curfew from the town."
said Mildred. "The watch will now be chang
ed. Back ! back ! They will be here directly.
I must away."
" Already," cried Gerald, with vexation.—
" But another word, Mildred—but one—some
token of yonr love until we meet again."
" Impossible !" replied the fair girl. " llow ,
can you ask me for a token? It were very j
wrong in me to give you such You ask too I
i much." Then, as she was about to close the
i window, she exclaimed again, " This poor rose i
wanfs trimming sadly. Alack ! these early
■ frosts destroy ail my poor plants and taking
up her scissors, which hung from her girdle.sbe
: snipped at a withered leaf. Perhaps Mildred's ;
pretty little hand trembled, for of course it was j
- an accident —the unfortunate scissors, instead
i of cutting the withered leaf, closed upon the ,
very prettiest rose upon the little tree—that
lose happened to hang over the edge of the
, balcony, and so it eainu to pa'ss that it fell at
i Gerald's feet.
Gerald seized it and pressed it, like all true
I lovers from time iuim'. morial, to hi- lips.
" Thanks, darliug girl !" he cried.
" Thanks ! for w hat ?" rejoined Mistress
Mildred, putting on a very lamentable air.—
' I " Now, don't suppose I l ave done this pur
posely. My poor rose ! how you crush it and
1 tumble it in your hand. llow could I be so
awkward !" and with these words the window
; was w holly closed.
; Gerald still stood with bis eyes fixed upon
! the window, when a noise as of a sharp rus
tling among leaves startled him. Immediately :
upon the alert, he looked cautiously around :
but there was no one in the court. He walk
ed hastily to the parapc-t wall and bent over it
; —all was still except the beat of the fisher
1' man, which he had before observed. It had
i apparently be< :i rowed to another part of the
river about the mansiou, as a better place for
:, flshing, without having been dbscrved by the j
. inattentive scntiaed, for it was now floating
• down the stream toward the opening into the
I broad. The fisherman again lay motionless at
j ; the bottom of the boat. Suddenly a thought
; seemed to cross the young soldier's brain, for
- he sprang to the bushes still left grow ing near
, the parapet w all, and searched hastily among
the leaves From the ground beneath their
; thick .-helter he raised a small packet. His
i mu>ket was already jerked into his right arm
- j to fire au alarm, iu order that the fisherman
' might be pursued, as suspected of attempting
vol,. XX. —XO. 48.
to establish a eommun'cat'oi with the prisoner
when his eye fell upon the superscription .of
the packet. He stared for oue inouieut with
surprise ; and then his color changed, and he
grew deadly pale. Ilis eye harried rapidly to
the tower—an exclamation of grief burst from
his lip3—and he stood aghast. At this moment
the steps of the soldiers coming to relieve
guard resounded along the vaulted passage
communicating between the court and other
parts of the mansion. At the sound the. blood
rushed back into Gerald's face, until it cover
ed forehead and temples He hastily replac
ed the packet in the hiding-place where he had
discovered it, and stood with musket in arm,
and in a state of ill-repressed agitation, await
ing the corporal and guard.
The young soldier who was now brought to
relieve'him from his post, was the same Mark
Maywood of whom he hud expressed his jeal
ous doubts.
The usual ceremony of relieving guard was
gone through ; but although the words of order
were few, these few words were communicat
ed by Gerald in a brief angry tone, and receiv
ed by the other young soldier with a cold,
frowning air. Between the two young men
there appeared to exist feelings of an instinc
tive repulsion.
As he turned to leave the court, Gerald
gave another gnxious, eager look at the old
tower, and glanetxl askance at the leafy hid
ing-place of the packet. Another troubled
sigh burst from his heart ; but whatever
thoughts occupied him before passing under
the vaulted passage, he raised his eyes to the
well-known chamber easement, wlreh was close
by. He could evidently perceive Mildred's
graceful form partly ensconced behind a
hanging to her window. Was s'ae watching
Lis departure Xo. It seemed to him as if
! her eyes were turned in the direction of the
handsome young recruit—that detected May
wood. And he ? Gerald looked round onco
! more. He felt convinced that the young sen
tinel's eyes were fixed upon pretty Mistress
, Mildred's window. It was in a high state of
i agitation—-a new £t of raging jealousy ming
; ling witli other painful and harassing emotions
—that Gerald followed the corporal and sol
diers from the court.
A PRACTICAL JOKE. —In a western State one
of the political parties had for twenty years
been in the habit ot holding their nominating
conventions at the house of Mr. G
He happc ed on a recent occasion, for the
first time, to be in when they had finished their
business, aud hear a little delegate move that
".this Convention adjourn sine die."
" Sine die said Mr. G to a person
! standing by, " where's that ?"'
" Why, that's away in the northern part of
| the county," said the neighbor.
; " Hold on, if you please, Mr. Chairman hold
| on," said the landlord, with great emphasis
' and earnestness, " hold on, sir ; I'd like to be
heard on that question. I have kept a public
house LOW for more than twenty years, and
jam a poor man. 1 Lave always belonged to
the party, and never split in my life. This is
the mo.-t central location in the county, and
i it? where we've always met. I've never had
j nor ask J f r an office, and have worked day
and night for the party, aud now I think sir,
jit ' - coi.'ei ptili to go end adjourn this Cou
. vention r ij/ up Sine die V
That la: d ;uu-t have beenonethebright
lights of the Democracy.
Lr. i.SO I'All.—This phrase is applied fre
quently to certain young men who are follow
ing a fashionable course of life, attended with
more or lets dissipation and extravagance.—
But with great propriety this term may be ap
plied to all those who are hurrying through
life—overworking the brain, and giving bat
little rest to their body or minds. Cariyle
very truly remark.? that " the race of life has
become intense ; the runners are treading npon
each other's heels ; wee to him who stops to
: tie his shoe-strings." What a fearful amount
of " wenr and tear" to the nervous system is
I there !o every department of life ! What a
I continual strife is there in every community for
wealth— for distinction and pleasure 1 How
much disappointment and envy may le found
rankling in the breasts of many persons ! Dr.
Arnold of Rugby used to say, " It is not work
j that injures a man ; it is vexation that does
it." It is this "fast living" in onr country
which produces so many of the ills that flesh
is heir to—it nuderuiiues the constitution—
breaks down the nervous system—produces
premature old age and shortens life.
S&F Mrs. Partington says she can't under
stand these "ere market reports." She can't
understand how cheese can be lively, and pork
can be active, and feathers drooping—that is,
if it's raining ; but how whiskey can be steady
or hops quiet, or spirits dull, she can't see ;
either how lard can be firm in warm weather,
! nor potatoes depressed, nor flour rising—unless
there had been yeast put in it, and sometimes
it would not rise then.
t-lx" Never be cast down b; trifles. If a
spider breaks his web twenty times, twenty
' times will he mend it. Make up yonr mind to
do a thing, and you will do it. Fear not if
j trouble come upon you ; keep r.p your spirits
; though the day be a dark one.
thy The Mahominedatis believe that in
thirty ve rs Mahomet will appear on horseback
and regulate the affairs of the world. We
don't see why he should reappear on horseback
for if we remember rightly, he made his ascent
on a jackass.
Happiness mast arise from our owu
temper trad actions, and not immediately from
any external conditions.
feaT What good would centuries do
man who only knows how to waste time 1
6nJ~A Western editor thinks Hiram Pow
ers is a swindler, because be chiseled an unfor
tunate Greek girl out of a block of marble.