DC HILAR P:R ANNUM INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
:
Thursday Morning, April 4, 1861.
TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW.
A 7.->*clud blossomed in my bower.
A bid s*a; in my gsr-lea ;
Th* rosebud was its fairest flower,
Tiie bird its gentlest warden.
A:iJ a child beside the liudeD trco
i-auj; '■ Think no mare of sorrow i
Cut let us smile and sin; to to-day,
For we must weep to morrow.
* asked the bird . "Oh didst thou hear
The song that she would sing thee .
And can it be that thou shouldst fear.
What the next morn would bring thee ?
lie answered with triumphant .strain,
Saying, "J know not sorrow ;
But I must sing my be-t to-day,
For 1 may d:e to-morrow .
I askrd the rose. "<>h, tell me sweet.
In thy fir-'. beauty's dawning.
Thou canst not fear, from t.iis retreat,
The eomiag of the morning •
She Snug her fragrant leaves apart.
The lovelier for her sor-ow.
Saving "*et! mu-t blourn to-day,
For I may drop to morrow. '
I said. "The bloom upou my cheek
Is Setting as the rise ;
Mv voire a i mere <b.l - or speak,
YVtu-a Jot ia uu-i repose® ;
And from the-e soulless monitors
fine lesson T may borrow—
Tb.-.t wt -bor.lj smile and sin; to-day,
Fur we may weep to mntr >w."
—'—-- - - - -
5:! fct c i) % alt.
[THE MAZED FIDDLER.
I. THE VIOIJJf.
What was that ?** cried Smith, starling
Wat end listen," answered bis friend.
[; was only tbe sound of a Tioiin in the
it bouse ; and Smith, who > a practised
sc an, trembled ie.-t be should bear some
fiitric jig, such ss coun'ry idier> alone can
petrate or even imagine. lie was wrong
.to uiiuu'.es a look of wonder was iu bis
t ; it) ten, he cried, " the fellow lias gen-
T lere was an imaiet -e pathos in tlie
> c ; the d.vii.e instrument v the instruments
u the organ lor their s.rg, but they ciaim
t Tioi n for their poet, seemed tilling some
■.:ge tii.e. of love .i tiTable and of ii.6u.te
: now it wo:: ' to sink into a wail
..rdesolaie weariness, aid anon there
mi* d i.viation —rapid, passionate, v.-
■u .. cvt-rv ... e. Of mere technical sk;l!
• ;vcr had evidently abundance ; but
*s _-s this, there wa* a soul in his plny
v- '•? us- pn>:<iu. i ictry. Silently the
f lifleiiittg with reverence to the
r worker ;ut lust the music grew cois
rven har-li. as if the player had sought
'v •.! the limits of possible expression,
■J i .. .<i some strange hurmouy in what,
•if* ' S .e'.y attuned,or to heart.- le-s hot
fie', -eetned utter '-. rd. Then lie
*d tad oar h .eudfc looked gravely at each
\oa are astonished to hear such music iu
ie fi-hing-hanite ?"
i.. the Lottdoi er : "If (hat man will
■ to town he will make a r >rture in a v.?ar
ve heard Pa-Tinitii ; e played. they ".aid,
s man who had sold h n- -;t to he dev .
ibis man plays as a dt v : might to
a Papaniui had sold himself ! Who
at bin ?"
T* masters." said the schoolmaster, with
i own at the Londoner - rather irrev
" rrds ; " two masters—Love aiid Vani-
Icg the later. I lear me, was the stron
vme two Tie man is—" mazed "as we
*e. Ills is a painful story. Will you
*.?sdoner, ready interested, gave a ra
i.i his friend began.
THE SCHOOJ M.lsTf.r.'i STOKT.
• "■"* to this place a man of about thir-
Ul * 1 fitly now. It suns me well
! wi< never fitted to strcggle in the
- ; aud here I know everv one. Mv
1 ' • r.;>le ; its reward is suOjcient for ray
*' • i>! vi I know that the children love
"? v rench comfort in ths. sir, for
*> u i erir been a father. Well, w hen
tit, the prettiest girl for many a utile
4 *< Mu*y Lee. \on have seen our
. • r.v, c rls—dark eye*. dark hair, and
■ r S*cch! Mary bad this, and she had
vi* ;*} |e®r 0 f a i>orn lady, so
'' - a tw foiks are plain and rough, no
of uttering a course jest be
■ Lee. H<-r father, a sntaii farmer.
Ltr toieranif to do ; and tne old
• . ac : a-f! *hc:p she lived, had been
* very mother. Yea will suppose that
> ' J Laa y-crers In a niauaer sue had :
in '-.vml>erown felt a kind of pnde
st >ue w .? • graud i.ke""— there was
* 1 • her which rather awed tliao
~ ar d o*.]y John llam'yn had any
- top. j f g er hand. lie lives next
n . L 4 ft °'d sr. ior now ; but in
,i. _ hoe and daring a fe'low as
, l; ( alone the t -a*t. Like Mary.
•r-lr 1 * 01 * r:cn ? l ' ,nt his father
c 'f three smafl coasters peo
'/ 'ffluegitßg, but that is no
ar - '• <lj :g, left thetn to h?s
-m he nd grown upside
t . * 1 **js 'here *< a quiet kind of
l There was more
t, ' winter morning wbeo
> *'•*'- '..weciiiet- and bleeding iu
. - : Mary heard how, in the
i - v , J -t he fore, ue had maaced a
°* !o * large brig that had
ht*. I.' " L::c e Rc-.k in the offing.
v\iV T? * ' f fcfr cre * tbe Imm.-
c-.--. ,' ' OWB - A. spar had airack
" 5 ?or * thtrt it as a grti
ghastly wound in his bead. Dr Woodbury—
—ibe old gentleman whom you saw today
upon bis little chesnut mare—met the meu, as
they silently brought John Hamlyn up the
steep path from the pier, and saw him carried
to his house ; and Mary, going home, knelt
down beside her bed, burst into wild tears,
Li)to into pruyers as wild, and felt, for the
f rst time, as if she loved the great strong sai
lor. lie recovered slowly ; some traces of
the wound indeed remained, but he coald have
had, i think, no scars more giorions, and ere
long he hoped to bring Mary home us his
wife."
"'Aud this brave fellow is the one who was
| playing?"
" Pray let me go on. No, he is not. Ge
nins he never had ; only the courage of a lion
and the affectionate geutieuess of a child
Poor Mary ! It had been well had these suf
ficed her, and so for a time they did ; but,
' unfortunately tor her, unfortunately for John,
there was a lad in tiie village who had geniu,
and, alas ! who knew it. Willy Basset was
hut a poor young fisherman—not a strong
: one ; uot even brave, but one of singular
; parts. If I was too partial to him, and if*
my praises helped to turn his head and fill
him with the demon of vanity, may God for
give me I did all for the best. Suffice, it
sir, that whatever time he could steal from
the drudgery of his daily life, was given par
! tial'y to the books I lent him, and partially to
i practising upon an old violin which had be
longed to his father, the village fiddler.
" John Hamlyu pased the cottage where
he lived one day. and heard him playing
' Willy Basset, lad,' cried the big curly hair
ed John, 'it seems to me yon might spend
year time better than in fiddling, with your
j poor old mother bed ridden ut home. There's
the herring hawks off the bay, man, and the
■ shoal will be round the head before von finish
Bobbing Joan. Out to the boat*, Willy.'
" Willy looked up, and was about to an
swer angrily ; bat John looked nlarminglv
j big. Said Willv : "It is very generous of
von John llamlvn, to talk of my mother's
poverty. Yon are richer than we, I know ;
lnt you need r.ot remind us of it !" These
were mean, false, cowardly words of his ; but
John—placable John—felt as if lie had *po :
ken too roughly, and held out his hand Wi!
i !v refused it, and turned away. From that
hour, us 1 fear, he often thought how he could
: lot injure the strong prosperous fellow who
had reminded him of his duty.
" You have noticed that we are a musical
race down here Maty Lee had tiiis passion
almost to excess, and sang with singular
sweetness. One evening, at u.y honse, she
: had been sing ig ferne of her quaint old songs,
when Willy Basset came up to return some of
my bocks. He sat down, and I asked him
to play a tune or two, as he often would when
he came to sec me. As yet he was but a
po..r player, though already gave some f.unt
promise ■ f that wondrous skill to which he
afterwards attained. This nig! t, whatever
was hi* inspiration—and Mary L-e'.s dark
eves had surely much to with it—he played
as he never had before, with quite new pus
• MI and energy This WHS imleed the first
time I ever heard him improvise. Hitherto j
l.< Lad simply played the ordinary country
tunes; tonight lie struck boldly away fro o
them, trusted "> his ownlieort, and succeeded
line I s-.id that he was cot handsome? At i
ordinary t.iucs he was not, but now. r.s his
ye lighted up with the excitement of his ir.u
■>.c. t.iere was wdd beauty about them w!;:.-h
to a romantic girl, would have far more charm
t..u:i ordinary comeliness. Wiivit he ended, I
asked M iry to s.ng —aud behold, Mary was !
crying
•' It is the o'.J storv. What was John
11 aml VIA, J tin and bluff, to ths Willy Basset,
so gifted and so passionate ? Ma y asked
Ler-elf tins question too often for her first '•
love to last It died out. John saw the
change, but would not believe it. A year
; ..--td Iy. Willy Russett's bed-ridden rocth
er died—proud cf her son. and loving him ■
w Id'v to tiie Ist. The tuoor soni cried out, I
as she IST dying, in her wretched cottage, or
a rough December day, "He will be the
;>r: ie of tiie country yet, my W IT —a won
derful boy !' But the neighbors said that lit
tie good would ercr come of one who had
been fiddlir g to please himself when he should
have b"cn fishing to help his mother ; arid I
could col bat feel that what they said was
true.
" And now, sir, care a tine which, to Ms
rv, I think, was one of the pnrest htppinf** ;
but wish n brought pleasure ie;-s pnre to Willy
l>aset, and absolute torture to flic brave
John. Willy—let me not be unjust to h JI —
was thoroughly sincere in all his professions of
love ; but there mingled wi'h them always, I
fear, a base sense of tr.umph over his richer,
stronger, handsomer rival. And as for John,
tuougn the. poor fellow blundered about iu his
big, uticouth, righteous way, slid sang at his
work, and never left a doty undone, yet was
iie as-ure<.ly smitten w.th a deep and terrible
grief as if he had testified thereto by jumping
over the cliffs, which otteu he was very much
inc.iited to do, for, struggle as he m:ght, he
could not but ace that Mary Lee, though she
had ever a kindly word aud a bright >m.lc for
him. to more intended to marry him than she
intended, say, to marry ~t.' Thu* went down
all the poor fellow's card castles, shattered by
a fiddle stick. II? was not imaginative, this -
big John ; bat. smoking hi? honest pipe of"
evenings in the snrded k*"tchcn of in old
homestead, he had had hi* little visions of hap
piness and ease, the central figure in every
such v siou being that of Mary Lee. W ell. j
that was over now. I don t pilj him the
less because be coold not write a sonnet aoout
his " blighted hopes.'
" la the Aprd after bis mother's death,
Willy Basket, with bis violin and with ten
poon'ds in his pocket— my savings were very
small, and I could give "him no more—sailed
away in a ship that was bonad for Naples,
lie went as a common sailor ; but I knew
that what he chieflly wanted was to reach some
iaua where he a gbt obtain real lj good masi
cai inching ; and, for my owe part, I toaw
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY R. W. STURROCK.
' aged him in the seheme, wild as it might ap
pear. An old friend of my own lived aj
, Naples, and I recommended Willy to him as
a youth of rare and brilliant promise. For
| whether it w as through his love for Mary Lee,
or whether it was through a mere ambitious
desire to show his kinsfolk and his townsfolk
; that, if he wis an humble fisherman, he was
yet something superior to that, certain it is
that his genius had taken a rapid and sudden
start, and that he would oftentimes play with
i really wonderful expression and power. Ere
j he went, Mary Lee, with little urging, had
: promised that if in a few years he came back
' in a position to maiutaiu u wife, she would
be bis.
" I remember well the morning on which
j his vessel sailed—a drizzly, nucertain April
j day, with now and than some some faint and
fitful gleams of sunshine over the sea. His
friends, Mary amongst them, stood upon the
pier-head as the ship went slowly away to the
west. Soou they could no longer see the wa
i vir.g of his red fisherman's cap ; the vessel
. went on, growing fainter and fainter to the
i sight : a cold, cheerless rain began to lall ;
*at last the ship could be seen no more, and
Mary Lee, as the Good Endeavor went fairly
• out of sight, sank back in John Hamleyn's
arms, lie was not far from tainting himself,
I think, the b'g, brave man, as lie led her
home ; and I found some tears in my owa eyes
that duv, I do not think I was the worse for
th*m.
" Letters cnm < from Willy in due time ;
hopeful, eloquent letters. My friend at Na
ples was very kind to him ; procured him a
master ; and, at last, plain Willy Basset, ex
tisher-bov, had a seat iu tiie orchestra of an
r Italian opera. Mary was proud euough of
this, to be sure ; but when three years passed
oy, and he still said noihing of returning, she
became uneasy. His letters grew less fre
quent ' lie has foun i new frien d,' thought
i she, 'and forgets old Coombetow ns folks.' In
deed, indeed, sir, if sht was sorely tried, yet
was lie as sarely tempted ! I learnt after
wards that he had progressed iu his arc with
wonderful rapidity ; at last he became a celeb
rity ; and you know, doubtless fur better
than I, to w hat seductions an artist is exposed
|in the south.
" bix years after his departure there came
a letter from h.m whicu made Mary's face flash
and glow again. He was comiug home—suc
cessful, famous' rich. Home to his little
Marv, ' whom he loved better thau any sig
nore of them all.' Home to his dear 4 old
friend*' naming me with words far tnoro flit
tering than 1 liked. Home to the old Coombe
town, • where, perhaps, he would be rather
more than formerly.* And so on ; a vain,
egotistical ietter, as I see now, but which
made Mary's heart as light as a bird's. She
hud wa.ted long, waited faithfully, but she
had not waited in vain, it seemed. Was she
j not right in her choice 1
"John llamlyn? John Ilamlyo was doing
very well in the coasting trade bet ween Coom
betown and Bristol.
'• Willy Ud.->et ? II? wa a famous artist—
aud j-he won d be uu artist s wile.
•'Tiie artist reached home, lie landed at
I Bristol, where he ioogt d almost ail hi money
with n well known banker, and thence posted
oa to the little Devonshire village with urnat
speed he mig-.t. \cu w.i paiuou mc .. luo
not attempt to describe his meting w.th Mary
Lee. I cou.U teii you ol its g.uj.iea.- 1 , of its
eebeuicmt passion; bat even as 1 speak the
sad uieu.orv is with me c* a*. tao?o tr.ais, ail
those uffiiciL-us, which so speed.iv fo.lcwed
ihis Lour of intense de. gi.L. 1 iocud bun
changed—uot altogether lor the better. His
i'uee, though he came from the south, was
very pale; n.s eyes, Irnnant as ever, hud now
a i gbt iu them winch was not that of cheer
*.i.l.l sS and li.iii.li j aud iu ...s wuu.e bearing
there was >ou<ew..ai of ostentation, somewhat
of rffc'tatioo, wu.ch it pained me bitterly To
ee. Despite ail this, he could be faseiuatiug
when he chose, and lue faults whicu 1, a
grave bookman, saw, were doubtless iu visible
to the gr! WHO loved. Johu Maralyn, iudeed,
conceived uu utter loathing for Lira; but John
had very strong provocation; for \\ illy now
took it into his Lead to be jealous of John
iealous of the man whose l.le-happiuesshe had
ruined ! —and gradually John's relations with
Marv Lee grew to be formal and constrained.
It was hard for John to keep quiet under this; ;
bat Love, if it had worked wonderfully upon
the artist, if it had fired aud kindled him into
goniu?, had tried Johu Haralyn also in its
magic crucible, and found him u.terlr pare;
so that, rather than cause one tear, one shad
ow of anxiety to Mary Lee, he would eveo
keep away from her! He was very seldom at
her house now, and \l illy made his visits ex
ceeding y trying to bun. Ttietnne filed for the
marriage was now close at band.
"John llam'yn, returning from a coasting
vovage to Bristol, went borne, smoked a huge ,
pipe m the kitchen, aud then, contrary to his ,
wont, walked tip to visit Mary Lee He saw
Willv, from a distance, leave the bone, so he
knew tftat Mary would be uioue. The same ;
evening Willy called to see mo. He seemed
overflowing with happiness; ail the better part
0 f j) !n —and believe uie, sir he had ranch that
was verv lovable !—shone oat. And, oh, how .
. he played ! Yon have heard him to-night.and
YOU kuew his genius ; bat then, Ins heart was
so full of joy. live future stretched before him
so blight aud so gay in iu everv aspect that |
MB music was as t:.e warbling of an angel re
jo.ciug %s it the beauty of the earth. He left
meat laat; but excited by the conversation and j
the music, be couid not go home to sleep He
racked on towards Mary's house, to wander
round st, to dream ab -at it, as lover? wiil
As he approached, he saw a light in be. win
dow, luough it was strangely late—and there
was t ..e snadow of a man upon the certain !
It st-. g him, this shadow, like a saake. With
a col billing jealousy at his heart, he crept
into the darkness of the hedge and watted.
" rrescatJj be heard the door open, and
then a Toice "which he knew wbe Hamlja's,
said; hot she bad been crying, he could tell
thi *' John's hie fern eta? otjtmto the light
" REGARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
- He walked slowly; the artist followed him.— '
I God forgive the poor man if he meant to use
3 a knife—l know he carried one; but, on the j
• brow of the hill, John turning, saw that he
, was followed, and inarched back upon his fol
-3 i lower. Even in the faiut starlight he recog
i uized Willy by bis wide foreign cloak, and
i j said, with a strauge, grave earnestness in his
i voice:
i j "'I have bad news for you, Basset; I wonld
i rather you learnt it from some one who is less
! hateful to yon than I aaa—why, I cannot tell i
1 —I never wronged you iu any way."
: ' 'Never tampered, I suppose, with my in
i tended wife ? Never tried to lure her away
from me? Never came to her like a thief in
i the night ? Never 'pitied the poor tiddler,' as i
I one would pity a maimed cur
I " 'Yon are very hot about it, Basset; but
> you shall kuow ail to morrow morning."
: " I insist, sir, upon knowingall to night; ;
; tomorrow you may be busy discharging your
bales at the pier-head "
! | " 'John felt the insult; but still, very stub
: boruly, very nobly,held down the passion that
was rising iu him. Willy—for rage had blind
! Ed him—mistook this silence for timidity and
went on, rapidly, tauntingly, till at length
; John answered:
" 'I went up to Mary Lee to night, if you
• will have it, to teil her that Johnson, the
Bristol banker, has absconded, and that you
■ are a beggar !'
" When a hoarse shriek Basset leapt upon
him and struck hiui iu the face. Aud thenjhe
• suppressed rage of years couceutrated iuio
one single blow, John lifted his huge arm and
beat him down. It was a terrible blow; the
i passionate artist lav stretched like a dead log
upon the groond—senseless. Snddenly tue
moon sluae out large and full. Tue light fed
• through the thick hedgerow trees, right upon
Basset's face. Jaim knelt down, and saw that
it was bloody. He groaned with shame, the
big John, that he should hare struck one so
j frail ; but at lust, Bus't's eyes slowly opened
and Joliu still knelt by his side, weeping like
a babe.
" What made him leap up, and then stag-'
ger-back, as if a knife had struck him to the
heart ? This: as he knelt by tlie artist, and
watched him return to conseionsuess, he ex
: pected to hear a curse from his hps ; he heard
instead, a low, feeble, chuckling laugh. It
was the laugh uf an iu.ot. \\ n!y liu->set was
liusaue.
" Three mouths afterwards I followed Mary
Lee to her grave: and wbeu the clamor and
the noise of the affair had died away, John j
liamlyn took the aiad artist to his borne, aud
has supported him siuce.
'• Willy Basset has lost all recollection of
that terrible night. He wauders about,harru-
Je-sly. quietly; the villagers, who will call him
'the Mazed F.ddler,' never molest him; and at
times he will take his vioiin and play so sweet-
Iv and so welt, that the f ew strangers who
visit Cootubetown will hardly belie re xe when
I tell them he is mad "
111. WHAT FOLLOWED.
However feebly the old schoolmaster had
told bis tale, there bad been something iu it
which had riveted tne attention of his liveli
er. The two n.=u sat for awhile silently, smok
ing and thinking. At last as the evening j
i closed in, the school:uister was ri-ing to light i
uis lamp, when he heard a tap at his door.— j
In auother minute John Ilaui'yn entered.
Tne Londoner gazed at him with interest.
There was nothing rorcaotic or picturesque ia
his appearance. He was simply a big scaeap
taiu, with prematurely gray hair and mild
eyes : for the rest he wore a rough pilot's
jacket, ar.J smelt strongly of cavendAh tobac
co. He said, quietly;
' : I have been down to the pier, sir; the
Sarah J*;.e has just come in ; an i now I fin J J
that poor Basset has left the house. lam i
goiug Lsjook for L m. Would you l.ke to come •
with me, sir ? There's a wiljish lock about
the sky to night, and I should be loath to
have him caught iu the that is rolling
- U P-" i
i ' I suppose we shall £cd him ia the church
yard r ?a. I the schoolmaster.
" Most like, most like, sir. I always notice,
that on nights like this he steals away there.
Poor fellow !it can't be helped now. But I
would rather lose my r ght band than u ; e it
as I did one uight !"
The schoolmaster sighed; 2nd, after a few
words with the Londoner, all three set out to
gether for the churchyard.
John Hamlju had been right enough when
he said that a storm was coming. The day,
as I hare hinted, had been oae of intense heat
• and now there was not a breath of air s'irriog.
As they walked oa, they felt oppressed by the
close, sultry deaduess of the night. Their road
. lay up-hill, through a thick, deep lace, such
as every Devonshire tourist knows; and ere (
; long the utter silence of the place grew almost ;
terrible. Not a leaf moved above them; and <
■' when, after half an hoar's walk, they reached ,
an open space from which the sea was visible,
they were stii! more struck with the gloomy ,
look it wore. A dull,heavy, leaden look—now
aud then there was a little white Sash befow j
them, when a larger wave than usual rolled ,
slowly ia and broke upon the rocks—but there
i was no life ia the sea, so to speak.
As they paased at the little churchyard 1
gate, thef heard the sannd of the violin
Willy Basset, standing by the grave of Mary
Lev, was playing such a requiem as never yet 1
musician has expressed in notes—a requiem
■of such depth of lamentation, such bitterness 1
withal, that the tore men almost wept as
they listened,and not auother sound was heard 1
: -ave the magical tones with which the Maz-d
Fiddler mourned over his dead lOTC. They did
not dare to interrupt him; bet a: length the
music ceased; he walked towards them, stag-,
gering like a drunken man; and then, as he
reached the gute, sank heavily, fainting, on
the groand. At that instant there was a peal
of thunder in the east, which roHfd on, crash
ing and rererberating as it rotted, tiii it seemed
to break right above their heads, then for a
minute atter silence; and tfcea a blinding sheet
of rain fell roddenfy apem then. Tirev lifted 1
-~' S• • *
I the Mazed Fiddler from the earth; John Ilara*
Ivn, flinging off his rough jacket, wrapped
Willy in it as a shelter from the ruin, and they
turned homewards. Tuo rain still fell, bat far
j away towards the horizon vivid flashes of
lightning leapt over the sea like sworj3.
" Make haste for the love of God !" cried
John, striding along with his burden as one
who carried nought; "make baste ! he is wet
to the skin already; it will be the death of
; him 1"
They brought him home and laid him gent- i
[v on his bed. The Londoner ran off for Dr. 1
Woodbury, but the good doctor wns ten miles
off. tending a sick woman; and when Smith
returned, tue artist was raving in his delirium
lie said not a word now of Mary, net a word j
of John liamlyn; his thoughts were away in j
the sooth.
" A poor fisher boy, Signora ! Money, mo- :
ney, always money ! Can 1 coin it ? On the
red, then ; I back the red ! For the eighth, !
; ninth, tenth time, lied! Red it is !" he scream- !
ed, half starting out of his bed. "Do you be- !
lieve in my fortune, now ? In notes, in notes !
I have no lacuev to carry my gold for me; an
artist, nothing more P
Through the whole weary night, while the
rain fell iu torrents without, the three mea
watched beside Lim; but as it drew oa towards
morning, and the storm slowly and sullenly
abated, he became much calmer. He slept for
au hour or two, and at daybreak turned to
the old school master, with a peculiar smile up- ;
oa his face.
"Yon will give ma my violin?" There
were several iu the room; his friend handed
him the uearest. "Not tJuil, not that! 1 play-
I td that at the San Carlo, when la. Catariua
sar:g so grandly. Give me the old cue; the
one I had when a boy." II; took it from the
schoolmasters hand and looked at it lovingly, j
Just then the morning light came fail into tne
room, iloodiug it with its lustre. "I played it .
oftea enough, sir, dowa among the rock*, when ;
there were none to hear me but the merry
sea-golfs. Ah ! the beautiful light 1 The
: birds will be singing after the storm, aud the .
iambs will be riiuuing iu the meadow* over
the fresh wet grass. I loved to see them once 1
but, I fear me, I fear me, I'll never move {
from this bed till they carry me away to the ;
gray old churchyard, yonder, close by the dear i
' old sea. And, wei!, 1 have had troubles enough
God knows ! and I'm weary, weary, and I
shall rest by her side at last."
Was he mad now? He spoka softly, bat
i there was a raLed look in his eyes, and at
i tioie\ a cold, nervous trembling went right
over him.
"Let him Lava his way, sir," whispered
John liamlyn ; "it is nearly over."
The artist played a few feeble notes upon
his old violin, and smiled sadly as be preluded
with a bar or two ot a Ample country a.r.—
Craa.
It was but the snapping of a fiddle string;
but as it snapped his heart broke, too. Ano
ther hoar hud passed away. The artist, with
his lean, long hand still upon the instrument,
nau faiien back upon bA pillow; and big John
Kamiyn, kneeling by the bed and shaking ter
ribly with the great strong sobs that seemed
to be choking hits suddenly cried out:
" L°ad us not into temptation; lead us not
into temptation; but, U Lord ! tid.ver us from
evil !"
Detectives Gatwitted.
Tie Auburn Advertiser says the reputation
that Rann Hakins possessed for sfresrlness
aud cunuing has been considerably enhanced
; since his recent masterly esea;e from the
Aabura State Prison. It is weli kuoaa ti.at
this accomplished rogue, agisted by potential
; i>nt unknown influences, succeeded in walking
i free and clear of the prison, clothed in genteel
raiment, with the nicest beaver, the £m>t kids
the gloss;-t pateLt-leatnef boots. Immediate- '
!y after Lis escape, the most rigid measure*
were taken to secure I.is arrest ; the most
acute and keen scented detectives were sent
out in parsait; bot ail attempts to catch the
rogues proved failures. The Advertiser says:—
" A few oighu ago it was rumored that
Husk: as eaibal jfcued by his prolonged escape,
determined to vMt a ball at a " tavern" in I
one of the small towns ia Onondaga County,
in the vicinity of his former horn" Two well
known detective*, who knew Hiskins person
ally, determined to attend the ball, ar.i dret
-ing np in their best oisgnise as gay cavaliers
they made their appearance at the tavern just
as the fiddle had made its preiiasiiuiry scrapes
and the fair couples had coaaene-i agitating
the light "fantastic toe."
To purchase tickets ani " Fail " ia was the
work of a moment. and soon the gallant de
tectives were enjoying the de.igats of the
dar.ee, while at the same time the:r most vigi
lan: glances were directed about the rxm
fur the e*eaptd Haskins During the third
or fourth quadrille the leading detective
songht aui obtained an introduction to a
modest appearing lady, iio cad, lor the most
part, sat quietly ia the shadow of the room,
attended assiduous'y by a polite and attentive
gallant.
Her quiet demeanor, her graceful figure,
neat and tasteful dress, and beuatiiuily Aowiag
curls, bad won opoa tne ueteetive; and much
to bis companion's annoyance, he succeeded ia
monopoly rg her company through two cr
three quadrilles, a waltz, eontra-dance, and
several po.ka* When tne iar.utoriiofSc.ou&iy
announced luat "the relreshiaent* were
ready," the successful detective galkntly crook
ed hu c-ibow, the f£r :ady accepted his invi
tation, and accompanied him to the table
where it vu hu delight to crowd epon her
notice ail the delicious rarities the table afford
ed; she swam in soup, sue was barricaded with
frosted and sugar cakes, and frozen with ur
roanding cream
A few dancea after the topper, a good deal j
of smalt talk between the two, ami the lady
announced her intei.tioa of leasing. The lady •
excused herself from the obsequkms detective p
and, after an absence of a few minntes, ap- !
peartfj with fur? ac<J hood ready for departure. I
VOL. XXI. NO. 44
The detective, greatly regretting her early de
parture, accompanied her to the sleigh, tacked
the robe closely around her, bid br good bye,
and returned to the ball room in pursuit of
Huskies.
The detectives retcrned to Syracuse, and
reported to one or two of the prison officers,
who were anxiously awaiting the sequalof the
: visit, and they were satisfied that Haskios
was not in the country. It has subsequently
i been ascertained, beyond a doubt, that the
, fair lady who so completely won upon tbe
i affections of the enamored detective, was oo
! other than Rann llankius, the escaped con*
i vict.
Wilkes's Dislodging Table Rock.
George Wilkes writes :
" I said I bad something to with the fall of
Table Rock, that broad shell on the Canada
; side, which ia 1850 looked over the very cal
dron of the seethiug waters, but which tumbl
ed into it on a certain day in the month of
June of that, by me well-remembered year.—
About noon on that day, I accompauied a
lady from the Clifton House to the Falls. Ar
riving at Table Hock, we left our carriage, and
as we approached the projecting platform, I
pointed out to my companion a vast crack or
fissure which traversed the eutire base of the
rock, remarking that it had never appeared to
i me before. The lady almost shuddered as she
j looked at it, shrinking back, declared she did
cot care abont going near the edge. ' Ah,'
said 1, taking her hand, 'you might as well
, come on, now that yon are here. I hardly
! think the rock will lake a notion to fail mere
] iy because we are on it,"
! " The platform jotted from the main land
: ome sixty feet ; bnt to give the visitor a still
I more fearful projection over the ragiug water#
a woodea bridge, or staging, had been throst
: beyond the extreme edge for soma ten feet.—•
This terminated in a small box for visitors to
stand in. and was kept ia its position, and ena
bled to bear its weight, by a ponderous load
of stone beaped upon its inner ends. The day
| was very bright and hot, and it being almost
' lunch time at the hotel?, but very few visitor!
were oat, so we occupied the dizzy perch alone.
I We gazed fearfully upon the awful waters, wa
| stretched our heads timidly over the frightfal
i depth be'ow, and we felt oar natures quail ia
; everv fibre by the deafening roar, that seemed
I to saturate us, as it were, with an indefinable
j dread.
" "This is a terrible place,*' said I, "Lock
under there, an 3 see what a mere shell we
stand upon. For years and years the teeth
of the torrent, ia that jetting, angry stream,
have been gnawing at the boiiow, and some
day this place must fall."
My companion shuddered, and drew her
self to ether in alarm. Our eyes swept the
roaring circle of the waters once again; mm
gazed about in fearlul facioalioQ, wneu sod
| deuiv turning our looks upon eaeh otner.each
recognized a corresponding fear i do not like
this place 1' exclaimed I, quickly. 'The whole
base ol this rock is probably .ategratad r and
perhaps sits poised in a soccess.oo of steps or
note he?, ready to fall oat and topple down at
any unusual perturbation, Ihat figure there
seems to me unusually large to-ciav. I think
we Lad better leave for 1 do not fancy such *
finish; and, besides, my paper must be uabiith
ed next weak.'
With these very words —tko latter uttered
jocosely, though not without alarm —l seized
j iry companion's Land, and in absolute panic,
we fed us fast as our feet could carry cs
towards what mizht be called the shore. We
first burs: into a laugh wheo we gained Uns
land, and jumping into our carriage, feit actu
al.y as if we had made a fortunate escape.
We roiled back toward the Clifton, but be
fore we Lad proceeded two minutes ou our way
a thundering report, like the explosion of an
j earthquake, burst upon u?. and with a Loud
roar the ground trembled beneath our wheel?.
We turned to find that Table Rock had fal
len. We were the last open it, and was,
doubtless, ti.e unusual perturbation caused by
our firing footsteps that disturbed the exacti
tude of its eq'ilibriam, and threw it from its
snu! poise.
In a minute core the road w#3 filled with
hurrying people, and during the following half
hoar we were told a hundred times in advance
of the next morning journals, that a lady and
gentleman wiio were on the Table Rock had
■rone down tbe falls. We are told that tlio
tret of a dog would shake old London brkig®
from end to end, when it would B&t be distur
bed by the roiling wheels of heaviily loaded
trains Table Rock Lad not been run upon in
the way I have been describing for years—
perhaps cevr. and therefore, wheoerer { hear
t spoken of, I always shudder and fee! as if
£ had something to do with its fa!'."
A WESTCB* JIEX'BER John?oa—barely
of age. was ejected to the 1 aetata Legislature.
He fays:
" When [ got near Vincenoes. I began to
think what a sorry figure, I a green country
' lad, would cat in an assembly of the wisdom
of ih State, and it required all my resolution
to keen ax from turning back Somehow or
; other I managed to get through the swearing
' process, and sneaked away to a feat from
which 1 Lardly ventured to look up antil the
House adjourned for dinner. On returning to
my bote!, I was rather gratified to leara that
I was to have a room mate, a brother member,
who. as he bad made at least six speeches du
rir;r the forenoon session, I naturally regarded
a one of the great men of tbe Home. After
dinner he came np to our joint room, ad car
fnlly closed the door, palled ont of his pocket
an enormous old fashioned bull's eye watch,
and handed it to me with this remark:—
" Uncle Jake told me just as I was
that I oagbt to have a watch, and loaned this,
botjdon't know bow to screw the thing up,
do youV
I walked into the legislative hail that af
ternoon with toe most unlimited confidence ia
my ability to discharge all duties iocM&bect
upon me, as a legislator
ik . . - - i 4f