ONE dollar per annum invariably in advance.
TOWANDA:
Tinrsday morning, Jnly 17, 1862.
j&letfcb jjpodrrr.
THE PATRIOT'S PRAYER.
When drawing near the Mercy Seat, with close shut
closet door.
And closed each avenue of the ugh t where pressed the
worlu before.
With rcv'rence let thy spirit bend, as bend the lofty
trees.
When o'er their heads sweeps, strong and free, the stormy
autumn breeze ;
Bow lower than for many a year, oh man of spirit
high,
And fervently, with trusting heart, send up this earnest
cry—
" Oh, God ! to eur brave stars and stripes let victory be
given.
'Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as 'ts in
beaveu!' "
When comes the holy day of rest, and GOD'S dear children
meet
Within those walls where JESUS comes his followers oft
to greet,
While songs of praise, like incense sweet, from grateful
hearts ascend,
And human eloquence shall oft with heavenly wisdom
blend. '
Then let the patriot's earnest prayer, oft in his closet
breathed,
Be echoed, and the promise claimed where many are
agreed;.
" Oh, GOD ! to our brave stars and stripes let victory be
given,
" Thy kingdom come, Thy will he d>ne, on earth as 'tis
in heaven!
"Thykingdom cornel" through parted veils the truth
shall then be seen.
And as when Christ on Calvary died the earth shall shake
again,
Then thrones shall crumble, empires fall, and tyranny lx?
o'er,
And freedom's clarion voice proclaim Christ s reign from
shore to shore ;
Then shall each soul enslaved be free, and every fetter
fall.
And He who gave the victor}- be crowned the Lord of all!
Well may we pray,As one step forward, to us he vic
tory given,
" Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as 'tis
in heaven !"
" Thy will be done!" oh, when, indeed, thy law is here
obeyed,
Before the righteous rulers shall the evil be afraid.
Then fraud and falsehood, demons dread, tlie.r sable
wings shall fold.
And nt a Judas sell this land for silver or for gold :
Taen his viae and li.g tree the patriot saint shall dwell,
And praise that guiding Providence, " who doeth all
things well,"'
And sing with voice melodious, like that to seraphs giv
en,
" Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as 'tis
in heaven ?"'
jl 11111 f b £ it 11.
(From Temple Bjr.)
LOUISA.
Viewed by tin light of my present experi
ence, I air bound to say that the whole busi
ness iti connection with my tarly ergagcimn'
to ttinrry Louisa Lippesiey seems to inn to
have been exceedingly imprudent. Of course
now I am entitled to ask myself and marvel
over the inquiry, as every oue else did then, as
to what I could possibly have seen HI her, or
what she could ever have seen in ine, to induce
either of us to entertain the opinion that our
marriage v.as in any way desirable. I may
say this now. because, as ail the world knows,
the whole affair lias been broken off years and
years; because there is not now the slightest
suspicion or a fcndrcsse between Louisa and
myself,—the mention of such a thing even
sounds ludicrously ; because she locg ago mar
ried somebody else (I need not drag his name
into the matter,) and has been, lor all 1 know
to the contrary (may I say, without Ding
deemed a monster, aire to the contrary .) a
good wife to somebody else, and a good moth
er to somebody el-e's great army of children ;
because all gloss of seuliiueut lias been com
pletely rubbed off our engagement and the old
threadbare thing is entitled now to no sort of
reverence or regard, and may just us well be
bung up as a scare crow, like other worn out
and contemptible matters, to frighten and cau
tion other people 1 rom following in our foot
steps. I hope and believe that I have a fac
ulty for veneration quite as great as anybody
else can have. lam sure that if in that old
broken off affair there lingered yet the smallest
trifle of real feeling, it should receive recogni
tion from me. I would regard it as sanetdy
ing the whole, and not rake with my pen in
sentimental ashes while thev were still warm,
but pass on quickly to other and more indiffer
ent matters But the truth must be told
reticence cn the sulj ct avails not I never
loved Louisa Lippesley ; although, rash crea
ture of nineteen that I was, I did a>k her to
m*rry me, and she—bless her ! never cared
a button about me, notwithstanding all she
said to the contrary
How, then fame to pass our engagement ?
Why did I gaze into the calm, blue, per
haps rather cold looking eyes of Louisa, and
express, haltingly, a devotion I did not feel ?
Why did Louisa glance at mv smooth face
(may I add, expressionless face ? I think I
my, contrasting it with its present looks of
powerful intelligence unci vivid sagacity ; if the
reader has any curiosity on this subject he has
0!,| V to know precisely the sort of man I nm
n °w, to vail to mind the picture No. 1943 in
H'e Catalogue, "Portrait of Gentlemen," by
*• Green, in the last Exhibition of the Royal
Academy, hung near the ceiling, u the north
**st room ;) why, [ say, did Louisa tints
glance at me, whispering reciprocity she did
lot possess, for a passion that had only a sup
positious existence ? It seems very nuaccount
a 'le all this, coolly considered so long after
Wards. Isut it is best to say at once, that it
"as all a mistake. We did not quite under
stand what was the matter with us. We were
young practitioners, and had got hold of an
THE BRADFORD REPORTER.
incomct diagnosis of our disease. People be
fore now have fancied themselves threatened
with pout, when they have been simply suffer
ing from chilblains. We took a serious affec
tion of the heart what was really but a slight
and evanescent irritation ; and the luck of the
thing was, that no oue was a whit the worse
lor our misconception. It was an error with
out consequence ; I wish every error was the
same. We were mere children, and we played
at being in love. We played so respectably,
that for a time everybody, including ourselves,
thought the play was earnest. They and we
were the more deceived.
Yet she was decidedly pretty, was Louisa
Lippesley ; a man might have been very fair
ly and creditably in love with her, supposing,
of ccurse, that personal attractiveness in any
way justifies love. Certain ladies, I know,
who justly, perhaps, pride themselves rather
on the prepossessingness of their minds than
of their bodies, denounce steadily the possi
bility of love being founded upon so frail a
foundation as a mere pretty face and figure
Siill, treating it as a man's question, which
it really is, after all, 1 repeat that a man
might have been very fairly in love with pretty
Louisa Lippesley. The only difficulty in my
case was I hat, perhaps, at the time I was
hardly to lie called u man ; I was rather a
boy. Yes, Louisa— my Louisa, I had a sort
of right to call her then ; just as people say
my house, although they are only temporarily
in possession, under au agreement fur tluee
years, probably— my Louisa was unqueslion
ably pie ty. The next time you pass through
St. Taid's Churchyaid, look imotlio basket of
the m m who stands I e the offices of the Reli
gious Tract Society, and sells the most lovely
wax dolis that ever were seen, —English wax
dolls, tiny are only surpassed in beauty by
English flesh-a nd-blocd women, —'ook carefully
for rather a small sized doll ; no, not that dar
ling with the jet-black eyes and the profusion
of jet-black ringlets; not the brunette doll,
but the blonde, with the flowing aiuhery tress
es, tiie open blue eyes, and the little red but
ton hole of a in< nth—that's she ; you see there
the very image of my Louisa Lippesley—the
Louisa to whom 1 was engaged to be married,
and whom, at an early period of my history, I
thought 1 loved devotedly—only that she
much prettier shaped feet, did not turn theui
in so persistently, was not stuffed with saw
dust, and never, that f am aware of, adopted
silver paper as an article of attire.
She was the youngest and prettiest of four
sisters, —Jane-Ann, Charlotte and Amelia
With every desire to regard favorably young
ladies who were likely to become by mv mar
riage closely allied to me, I must say that 1
did not like very much either Jane-Ann, or
Charlotte, or Amelia Lippesley. Perhaps,
as it seemed to me that I hud given ail my
affection to Louisa, I did not appear to have
any ready balance for di-tributon among her
sisters. Very likely they intended to be kind
to both of ns, and I am sure they were very
fond of Louisa, even to spoiling her, if that
had been possible. They always called her
"Bet," "D "fling," airi "Baby," and were
always making much uf her, and kissing her
dolitiuiy, smoothing her splendid amber hair,
roliimr her glorious ringlets round their fingers,
fondling her, pu ling their aims round her
waist and lifting lu-r off the ground—lor she
wu- very little and light was Louha, and she
was always regalded as quite helpless, and
unable to do anything for herself. " lea can't
do it, Baby dear; let trie," said sturdy Jane-
A ii. " It's no use you trying. Bet, you know,"
Charlotte would exclaim. "0 you silly Dar
ling. how could you think of doing it by your
self ?" Amelia cried out, when my Louisa
made any exertion for her own behoof. So,
weighed down by these expostulations, Louisa,
who perhaps had a natural talent for indo
lence, was quite willing to abandon all effort
to help herself, and to aliow her sisters to
mend her clothes, or muke her dresses, or trim
her bonnets, or finish her drawings, or coin-
pletr In r daily hour's practice on the piano, or
accomplish her singing lesson, or do anything
else for Inr, their fancy or desire to aid her
could suggest. One result of this was, that
my Louisa uppeured to he wholly unoccupied
from d.iy's end to day's end—t:oing nothing
but lounge about listlessly, and yawn occa
sionally in a distressing manner. She looked
ornamental enough, it must be owned ; yet it
never occurred to me, even in the wildest
moments of my imaginary affection for her,
that my Louisa was particularly useful.
The Lippesleys resided at Highbury. I
occupied apartments at Ibmlico. How did we
become acquainted ? Who introduced me to
the family '( I remember now, that 1 was tak
en there by little Flukewood, who was Mr.
Lippesley's nephew, I believe, and at that lime
was in the same office with meat islotkills and
lilogbury's, l>edford llovv. At au evening
party at the L ppesleys 1 first saw .iy Lo iisa
—in a white lace dress, with a sky-blue sash
(sa-bes wt re fastened then at the back, and
streamed from a bow of large siz^—l remem
ber thinking even on my first introduction, that
the sash matched well in color with my Louisa's
eyes.) Of course, seeing my Louisa, I fell
straightway in love with Iter, or thought I did,
and went home to Pnulico and dieamt. of her ;
and the very next Sunday found myself at
llighnury church, shameful y uninterested in
the sermon, and outraging seriously the feel
ings of the beadle who had shown me into a
pew, by my ceaseless movements and wild
endeavors to look around a corner, and catch
a glimpse of my Louisa's fair face in a white
chip bonnet trimmed with forget me nots, her
amber ringlets bursting out in front in a won
derful decorative manner. (For every woman
then, I may say, wore profuse curls in front,
and no one would hate thought of permitting
all her hair to tumble OUL at the back of her
bonnet—like a sort of cushion covered with
chenille, in the present fashion, which I admit
is pretty, and would be more so if one could
honestly believe that much horse hair in the
form of "frizzes," did not help to swell the
chenilled cushion.) " How I've been deceived
in that young feller !" I'm sure the beadle
must have meditated. " I gave him a good
seat, right under the pulpit, where he can 'ear
PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY AT TOVVANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., BY E. 0. GOODRICH.
! uo end—and only see how h >'s behaving—bob
bing about like anything!'' In truth, I thought
the sermon would never finish ; and I was con
templating the propriety of au Act of Parlia
ment to limit the duration of sermons, making
I it a penal offence for any clergyman to be
longer than ten minutes in the pulpit. But of
: course 1 was relieved at last ; and waiting at
the church door, and removing a very shiny
hat, in a series of my best bows to Mrs.
Lippeslev and the four Miss Lippesleys
" How very singular !" they all said ; and soon
I found myself walking towards their house,
and carrying ail their church services for them,
and still more desperately in love, as 1 thought,
with pretty Louisa Lippesley
I must do Louisa's sisters the justice of say
ing, that from the very first moment they quite
understood that my addresses were paid to her,
and not to any of them. Perhaps my feeiings,
while they did not admit of much c ncealment,
were not, on the other band, liable to much
misapprehension. The sisters at once made
way for me, at once permitted me to walk by
the side of my Louisa, and were fond even of
obtruding opportunities for my conversing with
her. Probably, as the recognized beauty of
the family she must, they felt, in the first in
stance, attract fur more attention and admira
tion than they could ever hope for. I think
her superiority was so thoroughly acknowl
edged, that they put away from themselves
all notion of jtalousy or annoyance that she,
a younger sister, should be preferred to tiiem.
They couldn't resist teasing her, however, a
little now and then on the subject. I remem
ber noticing that, occasionally a great deal of
nudging and whispering and giggling would go
on among the young ladies ; and sometimes
my Louisa, hurt by too much of this conduct,
would look rather as though she was going to
e> y, and would exclaim, in a pained voice,
perhaps a peevish voice, " Don't Jane Ann—l
wish you wouldn't or, " Le quiet, Charlotte
how can you?'or, "Have done, Amelia,
do, or I'll tel! ma. I won't be teased. I won't."
Tneti, if any of these remonstrances came to
theear of Mrs. Lippesley. she would cry out,
in rather a loud, glowing, I may even sav a
gurgling, contralio voice, accompanied by
much extibt ranee of gesticulation, " What arc
they doing to you, my pet, my treasure, my
own sweet lamb? Come to me, then, Loney
darling. Did they tea*c it bless it—a sweet
child ; eorne to its poor fond mother," —and so
on. In this way it soon became evident to
me that my Louisa was her mamma's favorite
child, and that the mamma was not a lady of
any extraordinary strength ot intellect
Mrs. Lippesley was a widow, and had been
in that lorlorn condition, I believe, for a con
sidcrable number of years. She had long ago j
given over weeds, it seemed, though ; indeed, '
at the time I had t lie pleasure o! her acquaint
ance, it might be said '.hat she had decidedly
taken to flow rs instead. She affected a very
decorated style o! head-dress, ai d looked some
times as though she had been in a sort of
ll.rial shower-bath, and while some of the
plants in their descent had lodged upon her :
head, others were dangling down her back or I
stiearning about all purls of her dre.-s Fre
quently she would mix straw with her flowers,
and look for all the world like a very mature
Ophelia, rather over made up for iier mad
scene ; while now and then she would abandon
flowers in favor of feathers. I have known
her also to have made diversions at times in
tire direction of velvet, spangles, steel beads,
and gold tassels. She was partial to color,
a d diil not care for insinuations or hints—or
I :hou!ii say, perhaps, tints—so much as soli J
downright assertions of it in the most positive
way. She ihouglit Vermillion very far above
pink ; and would not hear of pale primrose
while there existed a possibility of procuring
brilliant orange.
Concerning the late Mr. Lippesley, I was
able to arrive at no certuio information.—
From the young ladies I could only obtain
the vague statement, that their Pupa had
been " something in the city which did not
afford me any very diliuite idea as to his oc
cupation. To Mrs. Lippesley I did not dare
to put any question or oifer any suggestion on
the subject. She always produced her hand
kerchief, and betrayed symptoms of extreme
eraotiou whenever uilu-ion to her late husband
had been made : and as I was quite sure that
she was capable of having a lainting fit, or
even of surrendering herself to an attack of
hysterics, I shrunk from all attempt at dwell
ing upon a matter likely to produce such ter
rible conceqnences. She was a woman rather
proud ot her weak nerves and her sensibilities,
and of her liability to agitation upon si ght
provocation. She abandoned herself to her
feelings, and seemed happiest when gasping
and choking, waving her white laced hand
kerchief, tears in her eyes, and thoroughly
surrendered to uervous excitement. " Bless
you my darling hoy," she cried to nte once,
very shortly after my first introduction, " 1
feel towards you as you were my own—own
son." And site kissed me on the forehead, al
most violently, and shook hands with me with
exaggregate cordiality. Her hands were very
fat, and felt rather like pincushions. Iu my
most friendly moments I always had the idea
in connection wjth Mrs. Lippesley's hands
Ait resfe, I may say,that she w as fond of read
ing three volume novels, of reclining on the
sola,and of wearing carpet slippers. Of course,
1 soon informed Foikewood of the footing up
on which I stood with reference to the L ppes
ley family. He exhibited some surprise, fol
lowed, as it seemed to me,by a cer'aiti feeling
of gratification. He simply said, however,
" You've got into a good thing old fellow.
I congratulate yon, and wish you well out of
it. You'll save me some trouble, that's oue
thing."
I afterwards ascertained the value of the
last, part of his remark.
Certainly the course of the untrue love
subsisting between me and my Louisa appear
ed to run very smooth. No obstacle were in
terposed From the first, the object of his
introducing himself to the family seemed to
be appreciated. I was a well-received guest
and a family friend, and almost an accepted
suitor before I bad ventured to reveal to my
" RESARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER."
Louisa how deeply I imagined that my passion
for her was plowing up in my litart. Somehow
it seemed to be all thoroughly takeu for grant
ed by everybody concerned with very little ef
fort ou my part.
" She's a treasure !" Mrs. Lippesley wou'd
sometimes exclaim with a burst of emotion.—
" She's my own darling child. Don't think to
take her from me—don't dream of parting us
—don't, you wicked, cruel, Lard-hearted man.
I should hate you ; I should indeed—oh !
and then, happily, tears would come to her re
lief. Perhaps it was only natural that after
this I should look out for an opportunity of
stating to uiy Louisa how foud of her I sup
posed mysell to be. It did not occur to me
then, though I am fully awake to the matter
now,that perhaps,upon the whole, Mrs. Lippes
ley was not precisely the sort ol womau one
would have desired for a son in-law, supposing
one to have had any power of selection. I
deemed her to be simply a good, kind, lond
mother, of rather a poetic temperament, and
extremely effectionatc toward me personally.
Whatever do you do," she would cry, as I
left the bouse—"whatever you do, always
wrap up. Mind and wrap up—there's nothing
like it. My poor II " and then again
emotion interposed. The impression left upon
my mind was of course that the late Mr. Lip
pesley had met with death from his neglecting
to wrap up in a secure manner,and the conclu
sion I found subsequently to be literally cor
rect. I learned one day,from Flukewood that
his uncle died of delirium tremens ; and I was
aware that it was olten a part of that malady
lor the sufferer to abandon and destroy his
clothes, and wander about without them in a
truly alarming way.
il was not difficult to obtain an opporluni
! ty tor making a disclosure of uiy senlimeuts to
Louisa Lippeslev. i had great doubt, howev
er, about tindiiig her in a stale of mind appro
priate to the purpose. I remember making a
iirst attempt at a declaration, and uttering
about a tjuarter, say of proposal, one Sunday
evening m tin- summer tunc. Louisa was en- I
i i eating a green apple in the garden ; '■
! too much engaged for she appeared to take I
no notice whatever of my remark. Perhaps'
it was rather feebly put and not very intelli
gible ; and so I was compelled to abandon
the iflort until a more favorable accession.—
\Y litn 1 cominenced again my Louisa looked
so much as though i was teasing her, and so
strong an inclination to cry was expressed in
her face, that I again broke down, leaving my
feelings oniy fregmeutarily expressed. On the
next opportunity I declared myself as sudden
ly and thoroughly as I could. Louisa said
simply, " I'll tell ma !" and hurried away. I
could hardly decide whether the observation
was tc be interpreted as an acceptance or a
rebuke : whether was about to iuvoke a
mothers blessing or a mother's vengeance.—
I was soon relieved however, if it could be
called relief, by Airs. L'ppesley's falling heavi
ly upon me, and fainting in my arms, with the
word murmuring on her lips, " Take her."—,
Bless you—you cruel creature. Oh, how
could you ? lie happy. O my own sweet
doling pet—my treasure—uiy dear, dear Lu
cy," &e„ &c.
Of course, after that event, my Louisa and
myself were formally considered as engaged
and people seemed to me to do all they could
lo force this fact continually upon our atten
tion, to thoroughly impress and imbue us— ;
not lo say bully us—with it, and uiake our
lives a burden to us in consequence. I knew
1 always felt somehow as though I were brand
ed like u lelon, and the word " engaged" I
stamped upon my forehead ; and I did not
feci near so comfortable as I had expected.—
Certainly I had a good deal of my Louisa's j
society perhaps, indeed, rather too much of
it. The family made quite a business of bring
ing us together. The back drawing room was
especially devoted to the tentney of the " en
gaged cohple," as everybody seemed deter
mined to cail us. There we were expected to
sit and talk and make ourselves agreeable to
each other for hours together. With every
desire to be charmed with my Louisa, I began
lo discover eventually that her strong point '
was decidedly not conversation. In fact, after
one had got through, and knew by her heart, j
and thoroughly the witcheries of her blue;
eyes, her umber tresses,her delicate complexion 1
and her red button hole mouth, there was not
much else of my Louisa that was worth dwell
ing upon. These advantages were quite uuex- j
eeptional ; but I felt after a time that per- 4 )
haps there was something more required. I
had ail the sensations of having dined off a
souffle very pretty and delicate and nice, but,
dreadfully deficient in substantdity. It would •
have been as well undoubtedly, if I had dis
covered all this before I thought of avowing
my love tor Louisa ; and of course I could
not breathe a syllable of my ideas on the sub j
ject to any one, and meanwhile the family
seemed to be doing all they could to prosecute j
the unhappy young creatures who had made a
dreadful mistake about their feelings, "j There
is nothing like people knowing each other I
thoroughly before they marry," Airs. Lippes- j
ley would say ; " it saves ever so much troub
le afterwards. Bless you, Luey, darling !
Bless you, my dear son !"' and so she drove us
together to sit tor hours in the back drawing- :
room,wondering what we ought to say to each
other, and we ought to do to pass the time.— !
How my Louisa yawned dur.ng those inter- j
views ; and I'm sure I was very often on the
verge of sleep. 1 had always to sit next to :
her at dinner, at tea, at church. If I aeeom- \
{/anied the Lippesley's to an evening parly, I j
was chained to my Louisa's side all the even-!
ing. "Of course you must not think of daoc- i
ing with anybady else!"—so Jane, Ann, Char
lotte, and Amelia Lippesley in turn exclaimed
to me. " You must not thind of such a thing
or Luey will be so angry !" and 1 believe '
poor Luey was threatened by them with my '
displeasure if she ventured to solace herself !
with the society of others. So we were to- '
gelher all tiie evening, dumb and sulky and
wretched; pointed at by everybody as an " eu- 1
gaged couple," and giggled at by young pco- I
pie accordingly, and jested at. freely by elder- !
ly folks who had too thoroughly enjoyed their 1
suppers, and in an entirely false position, ar.d
ashamed. The love we had imagined lasting
as ou edifice of stone seemed to he melting
away like a snow image, and my Louisa and
myself grew to be very sick of each other.
Of course this is looking at the thing in its
worst possible light. There were times wheu
we were rather less bent upon beiug so rauta
a'ly disagreeable. There must now and then
be a sort of pleasure iu being iu tho company
of a young and pretty creature such as my
Louisa, even though she had mental deficiencies
and an inclination to be peevish. I did, I
confess, often enjoy the fact of walking about
Highbury with my Louisa on my arm, —the
white chip bonnet, with its lining of amber
ringlets, close to my shoulder, and the button
hole mouth cooing pleasant nothings, merely
" Noes" and " Yeses" as a rnle, —trying to
believe that I adored passionately, and was
so fortunate as to my choice. IStili this was
quite in what 1 may call the honeymoon of my
engagement. There were after moons very
much less iuciocs in quality.
In tim 6 too I began to understand better
Flukewood's observation, to the effect that I
should save him some trouble. He did not
pay near so many visits at his aunt's house
after as he had paid before ray engagement to
Louisa. " The fact is," he said, laugliiug, "mv
aunt wants rather too much attention." I
knew in the end too well what this meant.—
" You're quite one of the family now, you
know, my blessed boy," Mrs. Lippesley said to
me once ; " we shall not treat you es'a stran
ger, we shall not indeed." At first I felt
rather flattered by such a cordiai abandonment
of all formality ; but I soon found it was not
quite so agreeable a thing to be regarded
wholly as a male member tf Mrs. Lippesley's
family as I had been anticipating. Ido not
know how the late Mr. Lippesley might have
been viewed, but I found uiyself considered in
the light of a superior servant to the family,
out of livciv, and unrecompensed by wages.—
I was perpetually required to be iri attendance
ou Mrs. Lippesley. \\ herever she desired to
go, my presence was invariably insisted upon,
byway of escort ; I was always loaded with
shawls, wrappers, muffs, parcels and umbrellas.
I was shivering outside theatre doors strug
gling to get cabs for Mrs. and Misses Lippes
ley ; I was compelled at all hours in the morn
ing to see the Lippesleys home to Highbury
from evening parties iu all quarters of the
town before I could be permitted to journcv
home to sleep at my lodgings at Pimlieo. I
was once, I remember, running all night about
Islington HI the vain hope of obtaining change
for a sovereign in order to pay the cabman
who hud driven Mrs. Lippesley home from an
entertainment at the house of a dear fri nd of
hers residing in Beckham. For one serious
drawback on the pleasure of accompanying the
Lippesleys iu their pursuit of pleasure was.
that I had invariably to pay the cab fares ;
and it was this I found that made ray friend
Flukewood so much less solicitous for the soci
ety ot his aunt than had formerly been the
case. " She's let me in awful, she has, taking
her to evening parties : it's your turn now, old
boy !" so he addressed me. " Take her to
Turnham Green next week ; ail right ; go iu,
aud win ! But tiie fact was, it was going in
and losing ; and that was what I complained
of. For my allowance, in the way of pocket
money, was not very liberal; aud of course 1
was bound to make my Louisa a trifling offer
ing now and then—a silver thimble, a work
box, Moore's Melodies bound in whole calf, a
Scotch pebble brooch, hog wood and Irish-dia
mond bracelets, Ac. ; and really 1 could not
afford to main lain this ruinous expenditure in
respect of cab hire without leaving myself pos
itively penniless. It was al! very w-llformy
friends in the country to say that they could
not understand my expenses being so enormous,
and to decline sending any further remittances
until the next quarter-day, Michaelmas day.—
YV hat was 1 to do in the meanwhile? How
was Mrs. Lippesley's cab-hire to be paid? and
here she was proposing that we should ali go
lo Rumsgale lot* a month, and wou'd doubt-1
"less leave me to pay the steamboat fare for
the w hole party there aud back, to say nothing
of disbursements for doukey.s on the sands,
hackney-coaches, bathing-machines, Ac.
How was all this to end ? I am afraid T
must confess that my visit to Mrs. Lippesley's
house became at last less frequent ; perhaps
I was haunted by the fear of liabilities for cab
hire I should be unable to meet ; perhaps also
it must be said by a strengthening conviction
that my iove afl'air had been a mistake. A
sham sentiment had been passing current for
real ;it was time to detect and nail it to the
counter. Like one of those puppies which
look so pretty and thoroughbred iu their ex
treme infancy, and eventually grow up into
very decidedly ugly mongrel curs, the loves of
my Louisa and myself, deemed to be so gcun
incin the beginning, were found in the end to
be simply most unreal and mistaken. The
charm of our passion was in its youthfulness ;
that gone only absurdity remained.
My Louisa went out of town ; she was to
spend a month with some relations at Ports
mouth. We mede seme show of keeping up
a correspondence. Poor creatures ! We
deemed that we were bound to interchange
hollow, flackcid, feeble letters ; but these dwin
dled and dwadled. A month passed—two
months, three months, and for a long time I
had heard nothing ot Louisa, and I hud not
even been to call upon Mrs. Lippeslev ; cer
tainly my passion had very much evaporated.
Suddenly 1 met Mrs. Lippeslev, with Amelia ;
they had been at a morning concert at the
Ilanover Square Rooms.
" It's uot been my doing—indeed it has
not," Mrs. Lippesley declaimed violently.
" What is the matter V I asked.
" You've not beard, then ! Ah, I must
break it to yon. My poor Louisa—she's eu
gaged 10 be married—Major , of the Bom
bay Artillery—a dreadful man ! promise me
you will not seek to injure him."
Fervently I gave my word I would attempt
nothing of the kiud.
" She's a coquette —I say it though 1 am
her mother. My poor boy, I pity you from
my heart—-indeed I do. I can imagine your
YOL. XXIII. —NO. 7.
feelings ; bnt time will alleviate them. Ah,
the tears will come, my blessed boy !''
I besought her not to distress herself.
" You forgive her then ? generous heart, I
see you do. Bless you ! (then after a pause)
" Will you see me into a cab ? Tbank you 1
Have you any silver ?'' Ac.
I parted with Louisa's mother ; my engage
ment was broken off. I don't think Louisa
ever regretted it; lam sure I never did.
Is it necessary to say that I did not chal
lenge the Major ?
It was all an imprudent business and it was
very fortunate that we discovered in good
time how much we had changed our minds.
Good Advice to Matrimonial Candidates
The following items of advice to the ladies
remaining in a state of single blessedness, are
extracted from the manuscript of an. old
dowager ;
If you have bine eyes, languish.
If black eyes, affect spirit.
If you have pretty feet, wear short petti
coats.
If you are the least doubtfal as to that
point, wear them long.
If you have good teeth do not forget to
laugh now and then.
If you have bad ones,you mnst only simpper.
While you are young, sit with your face
to the light.
When you are a little advanced, sit with
your back towards the window.
If you have a bad voice, always speak in a
low tone.
If it is acknowledged that yon have a
voice, never speak in a low tone.
If you dance well, dance seldom.
If dance ill, never dance at all.
If yon sing well, make no puerile excuses.
If yoa sing iudifferently, hesitate not a
moment when you are asked, for few persons
are competent judges of singing, bnt every one
is sensible of the desire to please.
If in conversation you think a person wrong,
rather hint, a difference of opinion than offer a
contradiction.
It is always in your power to make a friend
by smiles; what folly to make enemies by
frowns.
When you have an opportunity to praise, do
it with all your heart.
Wheu you are forced to blame, do it with
reluctance.
If you wish to let the world know yon are
in love with a particnlar man, treat him with
formality, and every one else with ease aud
Ireedom.
TAKE lIOI.D or MY HAND. —" Take bold of
my hand,'- says the little one, when she reach
es a slippery place, or when something fright
ens her. With the fiugers clasped tightly
around the parent's hand, she steps cheerfully
and bravely along, clinging a little closer whetr
the way is crowded or difficult, and happy io.
the beautiful strength of childish faith.
" Take hold of my hand," says the young
convert, trembling with the eagerness of his
love. For well be knows that if he rely on
any strength of his own, he would stumble and
fall ; but if the master reach forth his hand,
he may walk with unweary foot even on the
crested wave. The water of strife shall not,
overwhelm him, if he keeps fast hold of the
Savior.
"Take hold of my hand," falters the moth*
er, feeling that she is all too weak for the great
responsibilities that throng in her path. Where
shall she learn the greatness of the mission—
the importance of the field that has been as
signed her? And learning it, how shall she
fulfil it, if she has not the sustaining, constant
presence of One who loves his people ?
" Take hold of mv hand," whispers the aged
one totteriug on through the shadows and
snows of many years. As the lights of eartl
grow dimmer in the distance, and the darker
iag eye looks forward to see if it can discer
the first glimmer of the heavenly home, tb
weary pilgrim cries out, even as the child be
side its mother, for the Savior's haud.
Oh, Jesus! Friend and elder Brother, when
the night cometh, when the feet are weary,
when the eyes are dim, " take hold of onr
hand,"
LAFAYETTE AT rriE AOF. OF SEVENTY ONE.—
In person he was full and strongly built, with
broad shoulders, large limbs, and a general air
of strength, which was rather increased than
diminished by an evident tending toward cor
pulency. While still a young man, bis right
leg—the same I believe, that had been wound
ed in rallying our broken troops at Brandy
wine—was fractured by a fall on the ice, leav
ing him lame for the rest of his days. This
did not prevent him, however, from walking
about his farm, though it cut him off from the
use of his saddle, and gave a halt to his gait,
which but for his dignity of carriage, would
have approached to awkwardness. Indeed, he
had more dignity of beariug than any man I
ever saw. And it was not merely the dignity
of self-possession, which early habits of com
mand may give even to an ordinary man, but
that elevation of manner which springs from
an habitual elevation of thought, bearing wit
ness to the purity of air you daily breathe.—
Atlantic Monthly.
It is stated that Beauregard is in sore
want of money. Prentice considers that's
strange when we consider what a big check
Buell and Grant lately gave hitr on the bank
of Tennessee.
jgfSP Among the conditions of sale by an
Irish auctioneer was the following : " The
highest bidder to be the purchaser, unless
some gentleman bids more."
The ancient Greeks buried their dead
in jars. Hence the origin of the
" He's gone to pot."
S@- It is impossible to look at the sleepers
in a church without being rctpioded that
day is a day of re^