OHE DOLLAR PER ANNUM invariably in advance. TOWANDA : Thursday Morning. April 18, 1861. jsdedeb Doctrj. A LOST LOVE. Bo fair, *nJ yet so desolate ; So wan, and yet so yonng ; Ob ! there ia grief too deep for loirs, Too seai'd for tell-tale tongue ! With a faded flower in her hand, l'oor little hand so white ! And dim hlne eye. from her casement high .She looks upon the night. Only a little rosebud— Only a simple (lower— Hut it bloomed no more as it seemed to Uoom Through many a lone, lone hour ; As they tlow'd from her fever'd touch away, The petals withered and brown. All toe hopes she dcem'd too bright to be ihtam a Sink trembling and fluttering down. It needs no hush of the Present To call back the sweet calm Past; The lightest summer murmuring May hi: heard through the winter? bia.it ; And the wind is rough with sob and with cough, To-r.ight upon gable and tree, TRi the hare elms wail like spectres pale, And the pines '.ike a passionate sea. jj.it she thinks of a dreary twilight tin the garden walk below, Of the laurels whispering in their sleep, And the white rose iu full blow. p n'ly moon ba.l sunk away, Like some pale queen, to die ; la tl.e costly .-hroud ot an opal cloud. To the June air's tremulous sigh. 1' All,all too freshly real, The silt subdued eclipse ; J!a..J in hand, aud heart iu heart. Aud tl.e thrill of the wedded lips. Those tender memories, how they flush Pale cheek and brow again ; Though heart be changed, and lip estranged, That sworo such loving then ! I 'Tis but the old story, Su:i£ if j often iu Vuis \ Pur man all the fieedotn of passion, F"r woman the calm and the pain. Tell it the soul v. uor.e grief is read, In the pour, pale suffering face ; I', will still cling >a t> a ioe that is g'.no With the Warmth of .is lirst embrace. OL, 'tis well for the currie-s spent, To weave the wt-b of ryme ; And oris u tin- nib- intm-'r:. s That float on the breach of time. If it better fir my i.ing heart, If evei it n.iglit be so. To t.' tto fe „•the light that has set, And tl.e dream of I nig I —■— ■ i.. J.. .... I |ft istcllait cou s. I Tho Way of the World. m i ■ ' ie a pleasant harvest breeze from over ■ * ny fit-hl oi new mown bay, comes a prct 'j love story from Ireland—Neptune's ral Emerald. Travelers know that Cu .i- f -rev. r "pi ay is:' bis tricks" with the Ir coileet.s and broths of hoys appertaining to tbe G -in of llu? Sea ; but it's seldom bis I •* there involve enough c implications or I onlrtitmps to make good newspaper romances. Then your " houid lad of K.illarney" falls in ire tvith a bit of a girl, be axes her will slm • are him, without a sum of a blush ; mi l if •lie says she will, tbe affair is decide, (French sounds nicely in an Irish storv, you know.) Should iter, "ouid man" see tit to interfere, I'addy just tips him over the head with Bis nillelali, and marries the girl before lie can k'.-t on his feet again. As for the maiden, she I.ever associates tears or thoughts of suicide lith the wedding- encasement, but sings from Itlietime of her betrothal : B •' My heart is a* light as a feather, ■ I hope it may never be sad ; I'm going t-i be married to-morrow, And won't you have me, pretty lad ? Hurroo 1" ■•'"ir renders will perceive that Irish ronrt- I' -iocs rmt preaent icanv attractions for the lunation" reporter, save when some Eng- I 1 adventiner tries lo earry off some pietty v\ when there is Hpt to be a row and a Ijtrai'd dramatic jig. At last, however, Old Ji>-aud lias produced quite a nice little liyiue ■ Dial romance, iu which uli the figurants are ■ri'-yof th e turf, and we hasten to lay it be- I'Dfe our readers : N"*ar the nneient and scrupulously rcspecta ' °'" l of NeiiHgli, dwelt a fair and frolic ' young apotheosis of eighteen summers, |[ -e natural beauty was materially cncliane- J the vi-ry becoming mellow light reflect >_■ !;om some hundreds of golden accessories. w parsimonious but pious parents had saved - s tempting assortment of lucre for her I'-vriagi- dower ; and so distinctly did its au ■ .>jaigle find an echo in public sentiment : ' fc heiress had at least one sighing suit- D' UT every pound slie possessed. To all she a -amiable and expensive; but there was I Rinong them whose superior qualifications e way of good family and a bank account I "e i.iin a decided advantage in the grand • '.ice for ln-r hand This lucky itidivid „l. no time in gaining the consent of the (, . unp> 'o his suit ; and such strong influ- I *' re '"ought to bear upon the pretty .iiut die filially consented to become Mrs. I "red not inform our readers that I, 1 nnijit ant swain nearly swooned in tha I of bis joy, and forthwith drove his Ij '* r thirty years ago. lie especi illy re curs to the times of 111 wards and BraiutrJ, end tiie holy Baxter, times not colored by the ut rabiliary of his own nature. Bat many a Jar emiade docs he pour forth over the worldii ness or inefficiency of the modern Church.— He know s not what things will come to. He trembles as lie thinks r.f posterity. Deacon Grum is slow to enter into any mea sures for the ad auceinerit of religion. He sees difficulties that others do not see. He calculates nicely all the possibilities of evil.— lie sees all the wrong principles that may lie involved, lie is fearful about motives, lie has his did!-cities with all the plans suggest ed. They are too narrow, or they are too broad. They are too tiinid or they are too bold. They are too slow, or. more likely,they are too fast lie is afraid of running before he is sent; of going before the Spirit, instead of following; of having too much human agency and then, again, of having 100 little. Propose as you will, he shakes his head doubtfullv.— He is always in a position to say, if a plan does not succeed "I told you so." Deacon Grum never sees at.y token of good in the church to which he belongs. Wluit others regard as a star o.' promise is to him only a meteoric ll isli—a phosphoric gleam— or perhaps a pure fancy. If few attend meet ings, that, of course, is bau most unpromis ing. If many go, he does not think much of it. It may le a mere matter of form. He fears it is. It is the heart God wants. It is no great tiling to go to meeting. If there is manifest feeling in the church, lie takes no en couragement from it. It may be only anizal feeling. It is not that deep feeling, lie is sure that opens the windows of heaven—such as they bud in the good old times. If lie hears of conversions, he says, with a despairing look and peculiar inflection, that he hopes Lbey are sound ones lie 10-pes they will hoi 1 out. If he talks with converts, they are uot apt to satisfy liim. Tiiev arc not like those of the days of Nettleton. • It is in a time of declension that you hear from Deacon Grum. He talks in meet ing then. He is eloquent then. He has a iliemc, then, suited to his peculiar mood, lie expatiates upon it making his darkness shine, so that men listening to liiin begin to think ail good persons hypocrites, and religion a phan tom. But, in time of revival, lie is compara tively silent; that, sunny, glad occasion, seems not to suit his idiosyncrucy. It touches not the chords of his mournful lyre. Be patient with Deacon Urnm. Do not wait for him. Go onward in the way of all duty. But deal gently with him. When weary with his lamentations, objurgations, and vaticinations, think of the "humor which his mother gave him " As I said, he is on his way lo lieavf n. True, it lias been conjectured that he will find something out of joint even there; something in the foundation gates, key note, etc., etc. But, no ! grace will have pur rifietJ Lim Beauty rf He limes PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY R. W. STURROCK. A Call to the Ministry. Somebody is always tcllincr stories about the •' Hard shell Baptists." Wags have the run on them, and they may as well be content and bear it. Here follows a tale told of them not long since. My informant locates it in the mountains of North Carolina, where the Hard shells are quite numerous, und where they be lieve pretty strongly in dreams and voices. In the important matter of a call to the ministry a dream or a voice is almost indispensable. Now, it came to pass that a man by the name of Walker felt himself considerably mov ed to " hold forth," and keep " spreading the fleece," Gideon like, to ascertain his duty in the important premises. To assist him in his pious investigations, he called at a still house one evening to get some of the "good critter." After refreshment, the story runs, lie left for hotne, and on tiie way he felt "moved" to go into the grove a few hundred yards from the road, "that- to wrastle on the subject." While he was "wrastlin" most earnestly, scarcely out done by the patriarch, some one passed the road with a long-eared animal, poiitely called a John Donkey, and John let off, as his race is wont to do sometimes, in a most moving and thrilling manner. Walker's imagination, by his earnest "wrast lin," was wrought up to great intensity, and he converted Major John's discordant music, which, to mo.-t men, resembles ihe filing of a saw mill saw, into a call Iroui Heaven, urging him to preach the Gospel. No time was to be lost, lie rose from his knees duly commission ed, went to his church,and demanded a license whin tiic pastor interrogated him thus : Pastor. Do you believe, Brother Walker, that you are called of God to preach, "as was Aaron ?' Walker. Most sartinly I does. Pastor. Give the Church,that is, the breth ren, the proof. Walker. I was mightily uiffikilted, and I was determined to go iuto the woods wrastle it out. l'a