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Would you learn the bravest thing
That man can ever do?
Would you be the uuerowned king,
Absolute and true?
Would you seek to emulate
All we learn in story
Of the mortal, just, and great.
Rich in real glory?
Would yon lose much bitter care
In vonr lot below ?
Bravely speak out, wheivand where
'Tis RIOHT to utter "No."
Von with kindly spirits blessed, *
Willing to do right,
Von who stand with wavering breast.
Beneath Persuasion's might.
When companions seek to taunt
Judgment into sin—
When the loud laugh fain would daunt
Your better voice within—
i >h, beware 1 you'll never meet
More insidious toe :
But strike the coward to your feet,
By reuson's watchword, "No."
tii' how many thorns we wreathe
To twine our brows around.
li\ not knowing when to breathe
This important sound!
Many a heart has rued the day
Wlieu it reckoned less
i it traits upon the moral "Nay,"
Than flowers upon the "Yes :'
Many a sad repentant thought,
Fums to "long ago,"
\\ hen a luckless fate was wrought
By want of saying "No."
Too few have learned to speak this word
When it SHOULD be spoken :
Resolntion is deferred.
Vows to virtue broken ;
More of courage is required.
This one word to say,
Than to stand where shots are fired
In the battle fray.
I'se it fitly, and you'll see
Many a lot below
May be schooled and nobly ruled
With power to utter "No."
.fclcct Sale.
[From London Society. ]
ROSE BLACKETT AND HER LOVERS,
" Yes, I suppose it is a good thing,'' said
Fred Whitfield, yawning, a little indiffer
ently, considering the occasion. " You see
ray mother made it up, so that I don't take
much credit to myself in the matter I
dare say 1 might have gone in and won on
my own hook if I had liked ; but I left it
all to the old lady. She likes managing.
So she and Mrs. Blackett laid their heads
together, and Rose and I said yes."
" Well, Fred, you certainly are the most
extraordinary fellow," said his friend, laugh
ing ; ' I don't think many people would
imagine you were speaking of your mar
riage."
" Dessay not," returned Fred. " People
go in for such a jolly lot of bosh on those
occasions; they cannot, understand that one
should have any common sense in the matter
Time's gone by for blisses and kisses, and
Cupids and arrows, and all that rubbish ;
and it's all very well, you know, to like the
girl yi u are going to marry—but hang it
til! one needn't make a fool of oneself
about it! 1 like Rose Blackett very well.
•"die's a nice gitl enough ; no nonsense
about her ; can ride well, which is some
thing, and plays croquet first-rate ; she is
good tempered, and, 1 am thankful to say,
without .sentimentality ; so we hit it off ex
actly ; but as for being over head and ears
in love, and all that stuff', I'm far to used up
tor anything of the kind, and she is too
sensible. We marry because our mothers
wish it, and because—as they wish it—we
might as well marry each other as any one
else. 1 can't say I particularly want to
marry any one ; but I suppose 1 must do
my duty that way ; and so you see I do it."
"All very well, Master Fred ; but I can
not say 1 think you are in a proper frameof
mind," said Harvy Wynn, " and 1 only hope
that when I am going to be married I shall
be over head and ears in love with my
wife. I don't think I would let my mother
make up a marriage for me, however sensi
ble in its outlines."
"Ah ! but then you are such a deuced ro
mantic fellow," laughed Fred. " Now you
see 1 ha\w gone through all that, and have
come out on the other side ; aud so I save
myself no end of trouble and anxiety ; and
let me tell you, that is no contemptible
thing to do in life, if you can."
" Jest so," said Harvy; "and by that
reasoning the more nearly we get down to
oysterdom the wiser our philosophy."
" Not a bad idea, Harvy. An oyster
must have a jolly time of it till he's caught.
And even then—we are all caught some
time or other ; so what does it matter ?"
' Not much, perhaps ; but I cannot say I
like the oyster theory. 1 like to live up to
the lullest of my powers while I do live,
and when I have worn myself out, then it
ls time to die. But vegetation, social or
' motional, does not suit me."
All the result of temperament and or
ganization, my dear fellow," said Fred, lan
guidly ; " you see you have a big heart and
big lungs and big muscles and a big brain,
and are a son of Anak altogether. I have
a weak heart and weak lungs, and more
nerves than muscles, and an irritable brain
iHiich has to be kept quiet by the never-to
bc-suflieient-pi aised nicotine ; and so emo
tion ami excitement and all that sort of
' nng bore me to death , and in fact, I ain
not up to them, and that's just it."
One would think you were a poor little
miserable starveling to hear you talk,"
E. O. GOODRICH, Publisher.
VOLUME XXV.
shouted Harvy. " A six foot light-guards-'
man not 'up' to anything ! and the best
cricketer and boldest rider to hounds in the
country ! Who is talking bosh now, Fred?"
" Perhaps I am, and perhaps you are ;
but it's too much trouble to decide," yawned
Fred, lazily.
And Harvy knew that when his friend
culminated to this point, there was no good
in talking to him any more. Fred was on
the cui bono school ; good-hearted and hon
orable, generous, brave, affectionate in
grain ; but he had spoiled himself by the
affectation of indifference, by pretending to
be so terribly superior to all the weaknes
ses of enthusiasm or emotion, and by mak
ing believe—and it was only make-believe
—that there was nothing in life worth liv
ing for. In aid of which philosophy he had
put on a lazy, lounging, careless manner,in
expressibly annoying to earnest and ener
getic people, maintaining that the culture of
nicotine, as he called it, was the only thing
worth a sensible mau's devotion ; though he
added a kind of bye alter to Bass.
ilis friend Harvy Wynn was a very diff
erent kind of person. Tall, muscular,
i broadly proportioned, his face not hand
j some so much as honest and strong —(Fred
Whitfield was allowed to be the handsom
est man in the county, aud the most ele
gant in appearance and manners—when he
chose) —full of life and spirits and animal
energy and vigorous thought, impassioned
in a strong manly way, and romantic too,
always in earnest, and never frivolous —
surel}' it was only by the law of contrast
that lie was the friend of languid, used-up,
affected Fred—only by the theory of com
pensation that the conventional club-man
about town found anything harmonious in
the country doctor who took life in heroic
doses, and even then complained of inan
ition ! But one does sometimes see these
udd friendships ; and Fred Whitfield loved
Harvy Wynn better than he loved any hu
man being, save, perhaps, his mother ; and
Harvy loved him, but with that sad kind of
love which one feels for people who might
be so much better than they are if tin\v
would be their truest selves. So it came
to pass that Harvy, who was to be grooms
man, was invited to Fred's house for the
few days now intervening before the mar
riage took place. He had only just arrived
when they had the conversation given
above ; and as yet had seen neither the old
lady, as Fred irreverently called his mother,
nor, of course, Miss Blackett, who lived
rather more than two miles from the Hawse
—the Whitfields' place.
His introduction to the mother came first.
She was a handsome, stately woman, with
the mien and manner of adutchess ; a cold,
courteous iron hearted kind of person, who
wore rich black silks and point-lace caps,
and despised poverty as on a par with vice
and crime. Conventional, proud, cold,
worldly—Harvy understood now whence
had come the flaw that ran through, and so
pitiably marred, the beauty of his friend's
nature.
Mrs. Whitfield was very civil, though, to
Harvy. She was in too good a humor about
this marriage of her planning not to be civil
to every one; for Rose Blackett was an
heiress, owning now some thousand a year
in her own right, with inheritance to come;
and she was glad that she had secured so
rich a prize for her son, when others, aud
men of higher social standing (notably my
Lord Marcy Masters and Sir James Ven
tour), were pretendants in the same field ;
so that Harvy only felt in a general way
tlie ice and iron of her nature ;to himself
individually she was all graciousness, of a
stately sort, not to say grim.
But one thing he did see, and that was,
that she was feverish and overstrained, and
looked ill, and as if on the point of break
ing down. His profession taught him that;
besides having by nature the full use of his
eyes.
" I am glad that my mother likes you, j
old fellow !" said Fred, when she left the ■
table ; " I know her manner so well, I can 1
weigh to an ounce the measure of esteem
she gives to any one ; and 1 can tell you—
if you care for it—that you are in class
number one with her ; which makes it
more comfortable for me, you know. I hope
that Rose will like you too, and then we
shall be all right "
" 1 hope so, too," said Harvy, laughing.
And then they talked of other things.
The next day they went over to Lisson,
where the Blacketts lived.
Mrs. Blackett was a ineek, mild, inoffen
sive creature, with weak eyes; always dom
inated bv the last speaker, and given to
easy weeping. She had long been under
Mrs. Whitfield's influence, whenever that
lady chose to exert it , though, since Rose
had grown up, there had sometimes been
tierce collisions, when the poor lady had
been put to terrific straits, not knowing
which sovereign to obey. Fortunately for
her, Rose was too fond of liberty to be dom
ineering ; and, so long as people would
leave her alone, was content to leave them
the same. So that, unless when Mrs. Whit
field annoyed her personally, and sought to
| curtail her individually, as she chose to
phrase it, she let her manage her mamma
i as much as she liked, and gave no heed to
j the direction which that management was
! taking. It was only when Fred asked her
I to be his wife, saying, " You see Rose, the
i old ladies have made it up between them ;
j but we can't do better, unless you are not
for it," that she understood the meaning of
the last few years.
"She did not care much about the matter
one way or the other," she said ; " she liked
Fred better than either my Lord Marcy Mas
ters, who was old enough to be her father,
or than Sir James Vontour, who was half a
fool so she said, " Yes, very well, Fred
and there the thing rested. And that was
about the exent of love making that had
been between them.
While Harvy was "making himself
agreeable" to Mrs. Blackett,* Fred Whit
field wont out on a roving commission to
look for Rose, who was never to be louud,
like any other young lady, in the drawing
room ; but always where she had no busi
ness to be—in the stable, or by the dog
kennel, or shooting at a mark with a reai
pistol as she used to say, or practicing cro
quet, or doing something that was not need
lework or anything else essentially femin
ine. A turn of the scales more, and Rose
would have been " fast," as it was, she was
only free. Fred found her, as usual, in the
yard superintending some tremendous pro
ceedings connected with Fan and Fan's
puppies, and after their first off-hand greet
ings (they met more like two young men
TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., FEBRUARY 2.3, 1865.
! than a lover and his betrothed), told her
i who was in the drawing-room, and asked
her if she would go and see him.
"That's your friend come to see you
turned off'?" she asked. And Fred said yes
it was.
I " Oh, very well !of course I'll go," cried
Miss Rose, with just the shadow of a blush
on her face, " but you know, Fred, though I
don't care about such things myself, it is
' terribly like being trotted out for show."
"Oh ! nonsense, Rose," drawled Fred,
i " Harvy's far too good a fellow to have any
j such disagreeable ideas." And they went
I into the drawing-room together.
Certainly Rose Brackett was a very pret
|tv girl. Tall, graceful, and yet with a cer
tain look of personal power about her,which
i some men like in women, though others re-
I pudiate; with large dark eyesof uncertain
I shade?, and thick, rich, glossy hair of the
| brown that sits next door to black ; small
i hands, now thrust into dog-skin gauntlet
j gloves ; small feet and dainty ankles,which
the looped-up purple dress and curt red pet
ticoat showed'to full advantage; dangling
her hat with its sweeping feather in one
hand, while sticking the other into the
pocket of her short jacket with the big
j metal buttons, half blushing and half de
fiant, she was altogether a " girl of the pe
riod," after the best models of her kind ;
just a little too jaunty, perhaps, and a shade
too indifferent, but evidently a finc-natured,
pure-minded, high-hearted creature, as yet
i in the block, and una wakened. At a glance
I Harvy read it all.
".She does not love him," he said to him
self, " and has never loved."
The two young men stayed to dinner on
Airs. Biackett's nvitation ; and, at first
amused, then surprised, Harvy ended by 4
being indignant at the cavalier indifference
with which Fred treated his betrothed.
Indeed, the whole thing was really painful
to him ; it seemed to be so little earnest,
and so devoid of the poetry and passion of
love. And he, who thought of marriage as
of an earthly heaven, and who would have
given all he had in the world to be loved
by such a girl as Rose !
" How often it is that people have what
they dun't prize, and that others would give
their lives for !" he said to Fred as they
drove home.
" Yes," said Fred, wearily. " Some men
like love-making and all that bother ; I con
fess I don't."
" You do not give yourself too much
trouble about it," said Harvy, secretly net
tled, but attempting to laugh. "Of all the
indifferent lovers that ever lived I should
say you were the most indifferent." .
"It suits Rose," said Fred, " and I am
sure I do the best I can under the circum
stances. It is ffueli a stupid position for a
follow to be in, altogether ; and even Rose,
though not silly, and not a bit sentimental,
dislikes it as much as I do. Did you see
how she blushed when she came into the
room to sec you ?"
" I saw she looked very beautiful and
rosy," replied Harvy ; " but I did not notice
that she was particularly embarrassed or
blushing."
" No, not embarrassed ; she is not the
kind of girl for that; but she colored up."
Which seemed to have impressed the young
man as something wonderful ; for lie spoke
of it again before they got home.
When they reached home they found that
Mrs. Whitfield had gone to tied, suffering
from a slight attack of fever ; by the next
morning she was decidedly ill ; and in a
short time dangerously so. It was an at
tack of nervous fever, and for a time her
life was despaired of. Of course the mar
riage was put off' indefinitely now, until
she recovered ; and, as Harvy Wynn was
free, not having yet made a practice any
where, he agreed to remain in the house in
close attendance, until she had passed the
i crisis, either for life or death,
i And this was how it came about that lie
! took up his quarters at the Hawse, and, by
| consequence, became well acquainted with
Rose.
Rose was not merely " the jolly girl with
out any nonsense about her " that Fred pro
claimed her, and that she ostentatiously
proclaimed herself to be, in deed, at least,
if not in word. Harvy, who had no love
for " fast" girls, and who had the power of
truth to elicit truth, soon found her out, and
! told her plainly that she was acting a part
| which neither became her nor belonged to
i her. It was all very well, he said, that she
i should like riding, and be fond of dogs and
| horses, and even enjoy firing at a mark —
though he hoped she might never develope
! into a sportswoman, clever at killing pheas
| ants, or hares either ; but it was nothing
J but affectation her trying to make herself
j into the bad imitation of a man, and pre
j tending to be ashamed of herself as a true
i woman. Women were women, he said ;
| and not all the big-buttons or easy-going
j slang in the world could make them any
j thing else ; and, whatever the fast school
might say, there was a grace in softness,
j and a power in love, and an ennobling in
j fluence in enthusiasm, not to be had it sta
j bios and hunting-fields ; " and womanly
j work is womanly glory, Miss Blackett,"
| continued the young doctor, warmly ; "and
| home is not merely a ' place to sleep and
| feed in,' as you say, but the emblem aud
enclosure of woman's truest life. And all
this you ought to feel strongly and enact
[steadily, because you are strong and stead
i fast."
j This lie said earnestly, for he was too
j thoroughly manly himself to uphold "as
, truly womanly " incapable of imperfect wo.
men; and the thing lie liked the best in
| Rose was her power and the dash of man
j liness in her, which might lie turned to such
j noble account if she would.
: " And when you have made me all these
fine things," she said, her eyes kindling as
j she spoke, but not with enthusiasm," what
will be the good of it? Much Fred will
' value me ! Much the world will understand
me ! One gets no good by such subtleties,
Mr. Wynn ; people do not care for them, so
what is the good of them ?"
j "I am sorry yon think so," Harvy ans
i wered. " I should have expected from one
! so entire as yourself the recognition of a
j good for its own sake, quite independent of
J the sympathy or understanding of the
j world."
"One must be understood by some one,"
she answered ; " and the more one's nature
is called out, the more need of a response."
Then she blushed—cheek, neck, and brow,
all one burning crimson—while her eyes
dropped, full of thoughts and feelings better
left untold.
REGARDLESS OK DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER.
I Harvy felt his own heart beat with
strange violence while lie watched the
lovely face before him ; but be jyas not a
man to show what he ought to hide; so,
with an effort, he drove the blood back to
its calmpr current again, and simply ans
wered : "The response always comes some
time in life, Miss Brackett."
She raised her eyes to his. "Is every
one happy, then ?" she said ; " is every mar
riage well suited ?"
"There are other means of happiness be
side marriage, though this is the greatest,"
lie said ; " a woman's home lias generally
other loves and others duties beside the
one of the husband : and at the worst there
are fiieuds."
" Friends !" slit said, scornfully ; " what
good arc friends (o one?"
" You think so ? Iliad hoped for a diff
erent verdict," said Harvy.
"Oh, you are not a mere friend," cried
Rose ; " at least, not the kind of friend 1
meant," she added, and again she blushed
to the very roots of her hair
"No; 1 am more the brother than the
more acquaintance," Harvy said, in a low
voice, altered, too, in its tones, and deep
and mellow—"your future husband's broth
er-friend ; I am yours also, am 1 not ?"
"I suppose so," she answered,coldly,and
turned away from hi til, as if offended.
Something not quite so tirey as wrath,
nor so happy as mirth, came into Harry's
eyes as he watched her move away discon
tentedly, perhaps more hurt than annoyed ;
but lie did not follow her, and in a few mo
ments she came hack to hint, smiling as
usual, as if she had done battle with the
evil spirit within her and had driven him
out.
But when Harvey parted with her that
day, she went into her own room, and wept
as if her heart would break ; and he, for
the first time in lii.s life, felt inclined to hate
Fred Whitfield, and to curse his blindness
and fatuity.
Had it not been for the young doctor, Mrs.
Whitfield's life would not have been worth
many hours' purchase. More than once
during her illness lie had dragged her out
of the very jaws of death, ai.d had now so
far recovered her that the wedding-day was
again discussed, and only waited Harvey's
sanction for the invalid to risk the fatigue
and excitement consequent.
" Oh, bother the marriage !" said Fred,
taking his mother's hand " Rose is a dear
good girl, and will wait till doomsday,
rather than you should risk anything, moth
er. There is no hurry, and we can wait
quite well until you are strong : .can't we
Harvey ?"
" Very well indeed, I should think," Har
vey answered, with an almost impercept -
ble dash of sarcasm in his voice ; " hut it
is not good for your mother to he anxious;
and she seems to be anxious to conclude
this affair. Of course it can be nothing to
me," he added hastily. "I have no purpose
of my own to serve in the delay or the con
clusion."
He had thought. As it was to he, it. was !
better concluded with all decent speed, lie
said to himself; and then lie, at least,
would be out of danger. She, perhaps,
needed no such precaution ; and yet —those
hlushds of hers, and that eager tremulous !
face had wakened strange thoughts in him.
Hush ! he must not dream such dreams.
What would he think of himself, a poor,
penniless, country doctor, if he came here
as his friend's almost hi other, and, in re
turn for his love, broke oil' his marriage
with an heiress, and secured her for him
himself? The thought brought the blood
into his face, and made him loathe himself,
as dishonored in soul, for even harboring
such a vision.
So it was arranged that the settlements
should be signed and that the next week
the marriage should actually take place,
Mrs. \\ bitfield's health not preventing. And
when Rose was told this, she wept again :
and, to her mother's intense dismay, burst
out witli "Mamma, 1 will not marry Fred
Whitfield !"'—an announcement which that
tine lady put down to insanity, as the mild
est term.
The day following this decision Fred
could not go over to Lisson ; he was de
tained on some business or other at home ; i
so the young doctor rode over, with a note
containing a request for the two ladies to
dine at Hie Hawse in the evening, seeing
that side one was disabled and the
other detained, and no intercourse possible
unless they would kindly come.
" Certainly," said Mrs. Blackett, a little
nervously, glancing at her daughter, who,
with her head thrown up, stood sideways
to her.
"And you, Miss Blackett?" answered
Harvey.
"Oli, by all means !" said Aliss Rose, not
quite pleasantly, at least to her mother's
ears. "1 want to speak to Fred very seri
ously."
"My dear !" remonstrated Mrs. Blackett;
and then she left the room.
" What has happened ?" asked Harvey,
impulsively.
" Oh, nothing,' answered Rose ; she was
standing now in the bay-window, looking
out into the garden, so that her face was
not seen. " 1 have only told mamma that
I am not going to marry Fred ; and she is
put out."
Harvey reeled like one struck. Had his
senses played him false.
" Indeed !" he then said, after a long
pause ; " your determination is sudden,
Miss Blackett."
" Yes," she answered,with assumed care
lessness ; and her quivering voice and
bashful eyes belied her assumption. "Now
that it has come so near, I feel that it will
not do ; and I am sure Fred will feel with
1110."
Again Harvey was silent. What could
he say? that he thought Fred would con
sent to give her up,being utterly unworthy
his good fortune? that he hoped he would
keep her still at her word, when lie hoped
just the reverse? that she was doing wrong
to be honest, wheu he loved her for it more
than he ever loved her before? What
| could he say? Truth and honor were on
opposite sides, as sometimes happens in
life ; and if lie said what lie thought, lie
would say what he ought not to say. So
he kept silence ; and Rose was not quick
enough to divine why.
While they were standing in this awk
ward position, both to much moved to speak,
a carriage dashed up to the door, and "Mr.
Norton" was announced. Mr. Norton was
Rose's trustee and guardian, in away;
though that young lady had full power
over her own funds, and did not in geuer
a! either ask advice as to what she should
do witli her own, or defer to it, if given.—
And being- of a school which "goes in'' for
a great many things better left alone, she
"went in" for speculation on a tolerable
large scale ; so that, since she came of age
she had placed most of her money out at
nurse, she said ; but she had chosen, un
fortunately for her, the most capricious
nurse of all—mining property. However,
she would do it ; so she had no one to
blame but herself. Not even smooth-spok
en, cleanly shaven, Mr. Norton ; who had
helped her by-the-by,to more than one"good
thing," in which he himself had taken shares
that he generously handed over to her, af
ter private; advices received and pondered
over. And when Mr. Norton came Harvey
left, bearing with him the promise that the
two ladies would come to dinner at half
past six precisely. As much before as they
liked, but not ti moment after.
W hen they came it was easy to see that
something had happened. Mrs. Blackett
was depressed, tearful ; her eyes were red
and swollen, her face puffed and pale ; she
spoke as if she had a violent cold, and in
every other particular of manner and per
son showed that she had been weeping bit
terly. Hose was Hushed and excited, with
a certain bravery of manner which trem
bled too nearly on bravado to be quite as
lovely as might have been. But she looked
beautiful—perhaps more beautiful than she
had overlooked in her life before : and even
lazy Fred seemed struck by her, and warm
ed up to unwonted feeling.
After dinner she asked him to go with
her into the library ; for she was utterly
unconventional in all she did, and would
not have minded asking a prince to tie her
: shoe, or anything else she might desire, be
ing just a little touched by the self-will, be
longing - to the heiress ; and Fred assented,
wondering what was up, and what she
wanted. W hen she had shut the door,"Dear
old Fred," she said, in a coaxing voice, "I
want yon to do me a kindness."
" I ain sure 1 will, Rose," said Fred, nat
urally, and without his drawl.
" You do like me, don't you, now ?"
" Why, yes ;of course I do. I think you
the best girl going," answered Fred, open
ing his eyes.
"And would not like to hurt or distress
me ?"
"By Jove ! no," hi- cried. "1 should
think not, indeed 1"
She was standing by the fire,leaning one
hand on the chimney-piece, with the other
just lifting her dark-blue gown over her
ankle, her foot ou the fender, showing her
pink silk stockings, bronze slipper, and a
bit of broad needlework as a flounce above.
" Well, 1 will take you at your word,"
said Rose. " I want you to give me up,
Fred, aud break oil* the marriage. Come,
now ; are you a good enough old fellow for
that ?" very coaxingly.
" Break off the marriage, Rose !" cried
Fred, all in amaze. "Are you dreaming?"
" Not a bit of it," she answered, laughing
a little hysterically; "quite serious and
wide awake."
" But I cannot give you up, Rose," said
Fred. "My mother has set her heart on
the marriage ; and it is so near, too, now ;
and 1 do love you a great deal more than I
have said or shown," he added, stirred out
of his affectation. " You know, Rose, how
I hate the idea of sentimentality or spoon
eyism with any one ; and I have fought off
that as long and as well as 1 could. But 1
am not the indifferent beast you think me.
I do love you, Rose, and 1 cannot give you
up."
She had turned quite pale during her lov
er's speech.
"Well, Fred," she then said, "ol" course
I am very much obliged to you, and all
that ; but 1 have not been playing a part,
and I do not feel a bit more than I have
shown ; so that we are not on equal terms,
if you love me as deeply as you say : and
I am simply in the old way of good fellow
ship. Mind that, and never reproach me
hereafter ; for 1 have told you the truth,
remember. And as for your lady mother, 1
don't think she will make much objection
when she knows all,because, dear old Fred.
1 am ruined."
'• Good (fod, Rose !" cried Fred ; "what
on earth do you mean?"
" Well, you know 1 have been going in
for speculating ; and so Mr. Norton came
down to tell me to-day that all tny great
expectations are come to nothing ; the
Bella .Jinuiita mines are drowned ; and 1
have not what will realize two hundred a
year instead of two thoustand. And so 1
think the question of Mrs. Whitfield's con
sent is settled, is it not?
" Now, then, Rose, I will not give you
up for any one in the world," said Fred, in
a deep voice. "My mother may say what
she likes, and you may say what you like—
the marriage shall go on ; this day week
you are my wife come what may ! 1 never
felt how much I loved you before to-day,
| Rose, when there has been just a chance of
j losing you."
"But if I don't want to marry you, Fred?"
! urged Rose, touched, in spite of herself, by
j the unusual warmth and chivalry of the
j man.
Oli, bosh !" said Fred. " You are not
the girl to have been engaged for three
months contentedly enough, and turn round
just the last moment, and say you don't
care for the fellow. 1 quite understand you,
Rose, dear old lassie ! You think that my
S mother will not like the match so much
now as when yon had money, and that you
j are not the catch yon were before you had
! lost it ; and so you thought you would re
| lease me. But 1 will not he released, Rosey:
, and so I'll tell my mother when she speaks
to me about it, if she takes that tone at
j all."
Upon which Rose did what was a most
J extraordinary thing in her to do—what Fred
had never before seen the slightest inclina
• tion in her towards him—she thing her arms
round his neck and kissed him ; and then
J hurst into a violent flood of tears, which
j soon passed into hysterics • when lie was
j obliged to call the servants and Harvey
| Wyim.
So now the whole thing came out, both
j tn Mrs. Whitfield and to Harvey ; Fred had
' no idea of making mysteries and keeping
! secrets unnecessarily ; but be noticed two
i things as the result of his communication,
; that lii.s mother looked decidedly displeas
ed, and as if she had made up her mind in
a different direction t< lii.s, and perhaps,
with more stability ; and that Harvey,
whose face had lighted up with a strange
pw Annum, in Advance.
passion, suddenly burst himself out, arid
became cold, and ashen, and "odd." But
Fred Whitlield was not remarkable for pen
etration ; so the coil coiled itself a turn
tighter, and 110 one seemed likely to get
out of the rounds,or to be free of its strands.
Rose could do no more than she had done ;
Fred could do no less ; and fyr once in her
life his mother was powerless, and he flatly
refused to obey her. His nature had been
ploughed up for the first time, and the
weeds had been cut down and the good
seed had sprung up. Rose Blackett, how
ever, and Harvey Wynn were as miserable
as it often falls to the lot of people to be by
the virtues of another. If Fred would only
have been selfish and ryir row-hear ted, how
many days and nights of suffering would j
have been saved.
The time was coming very near, now ; it
wanted only three days to the wedding,and
none but Fred was content. Mrs.Whitfield
was coldly savage, and declared she would
not appear at the church or breakfast eith
er. Conditions were changed, she said,
since the engagement was made ; and Rose
Blackett, who had once been well enough,
was no fit match now for the owner of the :
Hawse ; Mrs. Blackett was in a state of
chronic tearfulness, which made her poor
eyes very bad ; Rose was broken up out of
all likeness to he former self, and her at
tempts at the old high-handed "fastness"
failed signally ; Harvey was moody, irrit
able, feverish, uncertain; and the whole |
octave rang with an undertone of discord, :
which no one saw any means of preventing;
it not being always possible for one's fing
ers to strike the true key.
The three friends were riding along the
lane leading up to Lisson : Rose and Fred
in front, and Harvey at some little distance
behind—the lane being too narrow for there
abreast. Fred was talking about Tuesday
next (it was Monday now)and talking nat
urally and lovingly—for somehow he had
forgotten his drawl ol late—when they
heard a terrific plunging in the rear, and
then a heavy fall, as Harvey's horse—a
wild, firey, nervous brute—flung him sud
denly to the ground, taking him at a mo
ment of inattention when he was riding
with a slack rein and his mind far away ; I
so that he was thrown in a second, almost i
at the first start and plunge the terrified i
brute had made—frightened at an idiot lad
of the place starting up from behind the
hedge, yelling and flinging his arms abroad.
In another moment Rose Blackett, throw-'
ing her reins wildly to Fred, was k reeling
by his side, holding his head against her
bosom, and calling him her "Beloved Har
vey which he,stunned as he was, and un
able to reply,was not too insensible to hear !
and understand.
The carriage was sent for from Lisson, :
and the poor fellow, bleeding and terribly
shaken was taken to the house to be set to j
rights as soon as possible ; and while they i
were carrying him through the hall Rose j
turned to Fred, who stood leaning agaiust j
the lintel of the door and nearly as pale as j
the wounded man, but a great deal more \
wretched.
"It has come out, Fred," she said, laying |
her hand on his shoulder, the tears in her |
eyes, but with a more contented expression 1
of face than she hud had of late. "lam j
very sorry for you, especially as you have !
seemed to like me so much more really than j
you did ; but I cannot help it."
" You are a dear good girl, Rose," said
Fred ; "and I have been a fool. It serves j
me right. When I was master of the situ-1
atiun I fooled awaj my opportunity ; and j
now when I would die to be loved by you, i
Rose, you have gone oft* to another." He !
tried to smile, but his lips quivered, and he j
was obliged to turn away his head.
" Never mind, Fred," said Rose. " You:
will And some one else better suited to you, j
and more worthy of you than I am : and J
perhaps you will come to me some day,and ;
say, ' Rose, you have been the best friend
I ever had in my life,' when you have a j
sweet little wife that you adore."
" I don't quite think that," said poor i
Fred ; "but if you are happy, that will be j
something. At all events you are a dear ;
good girl ; and I love you more than you j
know of, or would perhaps believe. But j
that is nothing to the purpose ; I have lost j
you, when 1 might have won you if I had j
been wise."
They shook hands cordially, and parted ; j
and the next day Fied left the Hawse, and
soon after went abroad. Rose and lie did
not meet again till man, years after her i
marriage with Harvey ; and when they did, !
Fred was really married to the "dearest j
little woman under the sun," and Rose was j
a handsome matron, superintending her j
nursery instead of the kennel, and finding j
her children rather more interesting objects ,
of care than Fan's puppies of oldeu time.
She had saved altogether about four bun
<lreil a year out of the wreck of the grand
Bella Juanita silver mines ; and so on the
whole did not do so badly in life. Happi
ness has been found at even a lower " fig
ure."
Mrsic.—Let your daughters cultivate
music by all means. Every woman who
has an aptitude for singing should bless
(bill for the gift and cultivate it with dili
gence ; not that she may dazzle strangers
or win applause from a crowd, but that she
may bring gladness to her own fireside.—
The influence of music in strengthening the
affections is far from being perceived by
many of its admirers ; a sweet melody
binds all hearts together as it weie with a
gulden chord ; it makes the pulse beat in
unison and the heart thrill with sympa
thy. But the music of the fireside must be
simple and unpretending.it does not require
brilliancy ol' execution, but tenderness of
1 feeling—a merry tunc for the young—a
subdued strain for the aged, but none of
! the noisy claptrap which is popular in pnb
! lie.
A PREACHER was once traveling in one of
the back settlements, and stopped at a cabin
where an old lady received him very kind
ly. After setting provisions before him,she
began to question him. " Stranger where
mought you be from?" "Madam, I reside
in Clinton county, Pennsylvania." "Wall,
stranger, hope no offence, but what mought
ion be a doin' way up here?" "Madam, I
am searching for the lost sheep of the tribe
of Israel." "John, John ! come rite here
this niinit ; here's a stranger all the way
lVi mi Clinton count}-, Pennsylvania, hunting
stock, and I'll just bet ni}- life that tangle
haired old rani, that's bin in our lot all last
week is one of hiVn."
REMARKS OF
HON. .J. H. MARHH,
OF BRADFORD COUNTY,
On Senate Resolution ratifying Amendment
to the Constitution of the United States pro
posed by Congress January 3'., 1865, de
livered in the House of Representatives of
Pennsylvania, Friday evening, February
7, 1865.
Mr. MARSH. Mr. Speaker, lam happy
in the privilege of taking part in the pass
age of a resolution ratifying an amendment
to .lie Constitution of the United States tor
over prohibiting slavery—having long con
sidered slavery a great moral and social
evil, and as a great weight hung about the
neck of our nation,which, if not thr<wn off,
would in time drag us down to ruin. And
who can say that the slave power lias not
put forth her utmost exertions for the past
few years to accomplish that object.
But I am sorry to know that we have yet
a few men left, even gentlemen upon this
floor, who are willing to apologize for the
cruelties'of slavery,and who charge all our
present troubles to the election of Abraham
Lincoln—and for 110 better reason than that
the people, in a legal and constitutional
manner, saw fit to elect him President of
the United States.
Do not these gentlemen know that slave
ry commenced a bloody war upon freedom
long before Abraham Lincoln was elected
President ? Yes, and before the electiou of
that old imbecile, James Buchanan. You
can date as far back as the administration
of Frankl'n Pierce, a model of modern De
mocracy and an apologist for the cruelties
| and barbarities of African slavery. During
; his administration organized bands from
I the slave States went into Kansas, made
i war upon her peaceful citizens, and by the
aid of the bowie knife and revolver carried
; the elections against the will of a majority
1 of the bona fide settlers of the Territory.—
They robbed and burned their dwellings
i and storehouses. And men who were sus
pected of being in favor of freedom were
j often shot down while in the field following
' their peaceful and lawful pursuits. At oth
er times the quiet citizen was met by these
marauders and the rope adjusted to his
neck, and he was suspended to the first
| limb until dead, his body thrown out upon
; the plains, his flesh to be devoured by wild
: beasts and his bones to bleach in open air
But the cruelties inflicted upon the people
I of Kansas have at lengt.i found an equal
: in the treatment of our Union prisoners in
| rebel hands.
Slavery is not only cruel and barbarous,
but faithless to its compromises. Notwith
standing the advantage gained by the slave
| power in the compromises of 1850, in which
1 she asked that all agitation upon the sub
ject should then cease, she was the first to
break faith b}- the repeal of the compromis
es of 1820, by which she made her inroads
into Kansas, and war upon her peaceful
citizens. 1 say slavery was not satisfied—
degrading as were the laws of 1850 to the
free North, by which every free State was
made a hunting ground for human flesh,
and every citizen a bloodhound at the nod
of the slave hunter. Not many years since,
the huntsman's horn was blown within the
borders of Pennsylvania, and the crack of
his pistol heard upon the banks of the Sus
quehanna. Even the waters of that beauti
ful river have been made red with the bond
man's blood, and that blood, like the right
eous blood of Abel, is crying to God in
judgment against us. Slavery in her cru
elties has entered the family circle ; has
taken from the father his son ; has driven
off the grown up daughter in the chain
gang,and lias torn the infant from the arms
of an affectionate mother. It lias separa
ted brother and sister; parted husband and
wife ; and at length, led on by blind infatu
ation, strengthened by former success, and
encouraged by the Democratic party north,
it raised the arm of strong rebellion to ,iari
this mighty nation. By that act slavery
spread sorrow and suffering throughout our
whole land. From Florida to Canada, and
from the pine-clad hills of Maine to the val
ley of the Sacramento, tears in sorrow fall.
They moisten our hill-sides and bedew our
valleys ; weeds of mourning grow up in
every town, and sighs, deep-felt,break forth
from every hamlet.
Still slavery is determined to add fresh
wounds to the Government and fresh soi •
row to the hearts of the people.
And yet we have gentlemen upon this
floor willing to vote to give life to slavery.
They tell us that to abolish slavery will
prolong the war. Mr. Speaker, 1 cannot
sec it. But, whether we have peace or war.
let us have liberty ! We all love peace,
and would hail with joy its early return,
but we see no prospect of peace by adding
strength to slavery. Let us add strength
to our army, and words of encouragement
to our brave soldiers in the field, and peace
will soon come.
Since slavery has taken the lives of so
many of our brave sons and brothers, will
wg consent that it may still live ? Would
we be willing that in after years the slave
hunter, in pursuit of his fugitive, should in
sult the widow and orphan of brave and
patriotic men, who were called to defend
their country against a slaveholders' rebel
lion ? Or sneer at the battle scarred sold
ier, who has left his own right arm upon
the battle field in the hour of his country's
danger ?
Shall slavery, with its vile tread, pollute
the soil beneath which lie mouldering tin
remains of the brave and noble defenders
of freedom ?
Shall the ploughshare guided by the hand
of the slave,turn up to whiten in the sun the
i bones of patriots who have fallen in free
: dom's great struggle?
Shall we, as representatives of the peo
j pie, called upon to vote for the life or death
' of slavery, and knowing that it has cast
all its power against freedom, and with her
iron-clad talons been grappling for the
I heart strings of the nation—can we vote
that slavery may still live? No ! let slave
jry die ! And strengthened by its death,
may freedom and our country live !
AN OLD LADY'S ADVICE TO JOHNNY. —"Now
John, listen to me. I'm older than you or
I couldn't be your mother. Never do 3-011
| marry a } T onng woman, John, before \-ou
: have contrived to happen around four or
! five times before breakfast. You should
| know how late she lies in bed iu the morn
i ing, 3 T on should take notice whether her
• complexion is the same in the morning as
| in the evening, or whether the wash and
! towel have robbed her of her evening bloom.
You should take care to surprise her so that
you may see her in her morning dress, and
observe how her hair looks when she is not
expecting }'ou. If possible, you should be
where 3'ou can hear the morning conversa
tion between her and her mother. If she
is ill-natured and snappish to her mother,
so shi will be to you—depend on it. But
if you find her up and dressed early in the
morning, with the same smiles, the neatly
combed hair, the same ready and pleasant
answers to her mother which characterize
her deportment in the evening and particu
larly if she is lending a hand to get break
fast ready in good season, she is a prize,
John, and the sooner you secure her to
yourself the better.''
NUMBER 39.