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They will be entitled to 4 -, ;i u. confined exclusively to their business, with -e of change. ;r Advertising in all cases exclusive of sub ..mtion to the paper. JOB FEINTING of every kind in Plain andFan .Vus. done with neatness and dispatch. Hand . bunks, Cards, Pamphlets, &c., of every va ,ir and style, printed at the shortest notice. The ' JBTEE OFFICE has just been re-fitted with Power ; ~, s, and every thing in the Printing line can event- -1 in the most artistic manner and at the TERMS INVARIABLY CASH. gtUttti ftocinj. THE REST. [ aut dreaming of the blessings : t beyond the bonds of time, (tithe pearly gated city, O'er whose walls no evils elimb, Where the Father folds liis children S.itely to his loving breast ; • Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest." tin- toiling Christian pilgrim 0u a roughened pathway goes, ilt-re dijec-ted, there disheartened, Ever harassed by h'is foes. Pilgrim, raise thine eye above thee, There are joys for the oppressed, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest." Hast thou sickness, hast thou sorrow, Pain commingled with thy tears : (' mst thou trace the path of weeping Down the passage of the years ? ••I am sick," none say in Heaven, None by sorrow are oppressed, ••Where the wicked cease from troubling And the weary are at rest." Oh the joys of holy dying ! From the holy life they come, Constant toiling for the Master, Yet will bring the servant home, When he calls the tired pilgrim To the mansion of the blest— '•Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary arq at rest." fclrrtcrt ?.alr. A STORY OF NO MAN'S LAND, i. The New Forest is almost the only large strict left in England which has not been waded by the nineteenth century. You ..ay drive or ride for miles over thousands f acres, and find the country in exactly w same state that it was left by the Nor ~J:I kings ; the roads are probably a good .ai better, and the poachers use guns in • ii of bows and arrows; but except in - • particulars, the same wide commons j • -ii bleak and bare, with here and there { i withered stump by a sullen, black, boggy | succeeded by beautiful knolls where I • tall deer, whom the " Conqueror loved - if lie were their father," enjoy themselves •then, with picturesque oaks and beauti green hollies dotted about as in a park, m amongst which William Rufus might j 'i- without any sense of incongruity; • - old Perkins, who carried the King's ly in a cart to Winchester, lived in just ■ a a mud hovel, dressed in much such a it "surplice " (smock frock) and leath- K'gings as his descendant who now 'bits the same spot, having neither ri r fallen in the scale during almost - t hundred years. The very tongue has oily changed ; the Ari"do-Saxon lingrers udly there. |he population is a very lawless one, '•mg. like their ancestors, on wood-steal - -"el poaching ; and of all the lawless ' '•*, *t district called No Man's Land L pre-eminent. The old Spartans, I re, considered theft was not fault uu t were found out : No Man's Land -lit the same. Their very houses were Irorn the waste and built on the !i -"-'ii ; their cows and sheep, and pigs ' geese, fed on the commons whence heir peat fuel, and there was not a : *g 1 rent for anything paid by the j '' dimmunity. The late Speaker of ; ii'juse of Commons tells how, when i w itli the ranger (a good, easy man) r these parts, they both took notice of j i irkahly fine oak. Three or four days I they again passed the place ; the j was gone, trunk, branches, —not a j "1 any kind was left. Hardly any j ■ was taken : it was considered the j 1 f the country, though many horses j rts must have been required to carry -way. Tv , , T "Hay mud cottage stood separate. In . whole hamlet there were not three j mugs together. Mud has not a tempt- j ' 'Uiid, but it is, iu fact, very comforta-! wear, warm in winter, cool in summer ; j ' -landing, as many of them did, in their | little orchards and brilliant gardens, ! were much more picturesque aud! '"■ oil than the hideous red boxes, with j 'yi-Ue roofs, thin as paper, that are sue- i 'f; i-g them. The most substantial and j it st of them all belonged to the parish j ' tt; it possessed a second story, and •'partly built ot brick ; for Silas Rus )P< was a considerable man in those parts 1 '4 " -rich fellow enough, and a fellow who • had losses, and one who had two! ■ as " He lived nearly two miles from ! little village church, but as he was the " • ,l; an in the hamlet at the time of his H'tmcut who could read, there had •ao choice in the matter. He was as - 1 'of his rare accomplishment as Beau r" himself ; and as knowledge was pow _"V' U in \'o Man's Land, he was greatly j " :, red for it. His house stood on the 'f)°f ? little hill sheltered from the ; " | with an orchard ol merries (the lit-J a, 'k cherry) about it, and a passion- M w"trained over the front, for the climate jV'notit us mild as Devonshire ; while the ■' garden made a gorgeous show in June ■' great red peonies,' blue larkspurs, and -J ' !l "larigolds. 41 j. oul "j"* Sunday midday, and he and his "j " ' •daughter were just returning from j ( 'Triii "of his old wife. He did not n - aud Rachel, always rather afraid of "rod not begin. At last they reach -00,1 ..'.L > l ' ie em pty house-place seemed .( co 'd on the old man, —the vacant Ql 'J"Corner where they two had sat op- E. O. GOODRICH, Publisher. VOLUME XXVII. posite each other for BO many years, and he spoke out, but it was not a sentimental grief. " Eh, but she was fallen away to nothing ; she var a perfec' notamy. ' Small heft shall I be to carry to the lictuu,' says she ; and she var that sure. But it were a fine berrip, chile, and a sight of voke, and they all spoke as how she were a ter riab'e good woman." And so poor old Lizzie's funeral oration was done. Rachel Russell was a very pretty girl, of the type common in those parts, small and well-made, with delicate, refined fea tures, and what would be called elegance in another class in all her motions and looks. She was an orphan. There is noth ing but association in names ; no high-born sound was there to any one who heard hers. Russells were exceedingly common about there, and no one saw anything the least incongruous in dirty old Howard the black smith,or Stanley the gipsy tinker in the lane. Old Russell was exceedingly particular about his grandchild ; no one was " allow ed " about the place, and it was so lonely that his task would have seemed easy ; but as when a flower comes out in the forest, the bees appear where none were to be seen before, so if there is a pretty girl, those ne'er-do-weels young men will find her out; and poor Russell was sadly put about. It never seemed to occur to him, in his horror at the species, that they were necessary to replenish the supply of old ones, who alone he thought worthy to in herit the earth. Their nearest neighbor was an old wood cutter, a widower, whose children had all left him except the youngest, Maurice.— He was a tall, well-grown stripling, about one-and-tweuty, with a pleasant face, not in the least handsome ; with a keen eye for a stag, and the fleetest runner in the parish. He was supposed to help his father in the wood, and if th y both combined less law ful callings with their nominal one, No Nan's Land did not think the worse of them. Old Lizzie Russell had been very fond of the striving woman who had died of hard work, and Maurice and Rachel had known each other from babies ; many were the wood-yigeons' eggs, the feathers of wood pecker and jay, that were among her trea sures in those old days. And now, if he met her coming home with a bundle from the shop, four miles off, there was no harm in his carrying it for her, or in his helping with a yoke of water from the little well at the bottom of the steep orchard ; for he had been scarcely allowed to come within the house since the old woman's death. Ev erything looked fair for the pair ; he had never spoken a word of love to her, howev er, they were still on their old friendly foot ing, and old Silas, who did not like the prospect of losing his grandchild, could not have objected in the long run, when—there was a sudden change in the Government, the Ministry resigned, and a number of great people went in and out, with whom Maurice and Rachel did not seem at first to have much to do. There are many clev er books written to prove what small causes led to great events ; un vere dCeau turned out the Duchess of Marlborough and changed the fate and policy of Europe. My great work shows that great things have a multitude of small tails which they know nothing about. Among a number of changes and cries for reform, there had been an outcry about the malversations of the Forest. The old ranger was dead, and the new Ministry appointed a fresh one, who began his reign as is the fashion of new brooms. The keeper of that part of the district was a very worthy old butler belonging to the last dynasty, who never stirred out after eight o'clock, and knew as much about woodcraft as a cobbler. He and his wife lived about a mile and a half further in the wood, at a lodge in a most beautiful situation on a hill overlook ing the country for miles round. Great sweeps of wood alternating with wild heathery commons stretched out to the Channel, the blue sea and the beautiful Hues of the Isle of Wight beyond,—" the Island," as it is fondly called, —and a white sail like a gull's wing here and there. It was surrounded by tufts of beech and holly set on the short green sward, the boughs from which strewed the ground, cut in win ter as fodder for the deer, who loved and frequented the spot, and were to be seen flashing in and out of the glades between the groups of trees which are scattered about as in a magnificent park. On this pleasant place of much play and little work came the terrible shadow of re form. But abuses were long-lived in those days, and after much talk of stricter man agement, in a little while matters subsided, and the anticlimax of the magnificent plans of improvement was that the under-keeper was desired to take an assistant. He was not long in appearing,—one Ralph Leverton, the son of a small farmer a lew miles off, shrewdly suspected of hav ing the best possible chance of circumvent ing the poachers by being well practised in all their ways. He was a very good looking fellow, tall and straight, with curl ing black hair, and keen eyes ; and in his black velveteen coat, and long gaiters, looked the very ideal of a young game keeper. He was known to most in the village, but he graduated, as it were, on the first Sunday after his appointment, when the congregation were much disturbed by dis cussing him outside in the church porch, and watching him how he joined in the hymns. After church he seemed to think that so great a man might pick his company ; and as Rachel was decidedly the prettiest girl there, he joined the old clerk at the first stile, ostensibly to inquire about a deer's run near the house, and walked home with them, Rachel keeping shyly by her grand father with her prayer-book wrapped in a red pocket handkerchief. The old man, however, did not ask him in when they reached the cottage, and rather fought shy J of his new acquaintance. After that, however, Ralph was constant ly in and out; sometimes " would Master Russell give him a cup of mead," or lend i him a hammer, or he brought a bit of news paper, only three weeks old, containing some wonderful battle or murder for the | erudite clerk. Rachel did not much like him ; but she was very young and innocent ; she never looked forwards, he rather amused her ; he ; had seen the great world, had been even as ! far as " Hampton," and she thought it very j good-natured of him to look in on them. Maurice had been away, selling wood for his father, who was laid up with the rheu matics, and the few times he had been near the clerk's house, he had not '' chanced " on Leverton ; but one day when he came to the well at the time Rachel generally fetched her water, he saw Ralph saunter slowly out of the house, with his hands in his pockets like an habitue, and go whist ling up the hill. Poor Maurice was dumb foundered ; his holy place, where he was scarcely allowed to enter, to be profaned by such a man ; for Leverton's character was not particularly good ; and moreover, he regarded the ex-poacher with something of the feelings of a soldier towards a de serter. That evening Rachel did not come to the well ; probably Ralph had carried her water for her, and Maurice went home in a towering rage. He did not manage to see her for the next few dayss, while he was nursing his wrath to keep it warm. At last one evening she was tripping across the forest, the nearest way home ; there was no path, only the aimless tracks of the cows in and out of the holly and thorn thickets, and round the great beech and oak ; the long level rays of the sun lay on the tall fern, and touched the beautiful green mossy trunks of the beech, which looked like velvet, the even ing shadows crept in and out, and nothing stirred but a squirrel, chattering at her as she passed, or the rustle of the carpet of dead leaveß where a hind stole away. Presently she heard a nearer rustle, and turning, found Maurice at her side ; she gave him such a bright look, her face beam ed with such genuine pleasure, that his wrath subsided at once. "Why, Maurice, where ha'ye been this age, like ?" " Out o' sight, out o' mind," said he, sadly ; "you've had other things to mind nor mindiu' o' me, Rachel." She looked up surprised, and then blushed deep ly at the expression in Maurice's face. "He 's abeen in and out, out and in, most days, Ida know, Rachel. I'd swaller it, and nev er miake no muoan, but that I da know he be na fit for thee ; lie be a loose hand, a wild chap that fears neither God nor man, and he means no good by thee. 'Taint 'cause I hate one as have aturned on his own trade, darling ; there's deeper wrong nor thissen ; as them as da know Ralph Leverton. Do ye love un, Rachel, dear ?" he said, tenderly and sadly. " I ha' little to offer, heaven do know ; but I ha' loved thee ever sin' thou worst so high, wid all my soul and all my strength. I've never ah oken at ere a lass only thee. I'd twoil all a man mid to make thine a happy life, —God bless thee." In her sudden terror, she sat down where she stood, among the fern, and covered her face with her hands. As Maurice had been speaking, she remembered her first instinc tive repugnance to Leverton ; that strange power by which natures perfectly innocent and ignorant of evil detect by instinct what more practised minds often miss ; as if en dowed with an additional sense for their preservation, if they would but listen to it. Leverton had unconsciously modified his ordinary bold, reckless look and manner when he came near her gentle purity, as you would hardly speak harshly to a fawn, and her first impression had worn off. A very wise woman once said that she often altered her first impression of a per son ; that as she knew more of a character, she modified her opinion very much, but that she always came back to the first, when the mind had been quite unprejudiced and the instinct, which is far stronger in women than men, had had fair play. Poor Rachel's cogitations were not so ab-. struse, though they came to the same end. She instinctively felt that what Maurice said was true ; she remembered her early impression against Leverton ; could it be possible that she could care for this mau ? Then came up before her the frank, hearty nature that was standinar near her, the lov ing aud tender hand which had always been helpful in her little perplexities, and the tears began to start through her fingers.— It took a long time, or it seemed so to him, for her little mind, so unpractised in read ing its own or others' emotions, to get so far ; and poor Maurice standing on thorns watching her, and at last seeing her tears, thought it was all up with him and turned away with a sort of smothered groan. " Good by, Rachel,"he said, and he swore within himself (though iu his rude chivalry he thought it unmanly to threaten her with it), that he'd " list next day." " Bide, Maurice, bide," cried Rachel, leap ing up in terror, " I catena naught for yon man." " But then you care naught for me either, Rachel, I'm feared," answered Mau rice with a bound back to her side ; but his arm round her waist certainly belied him. Rachel, however, did not push it away ; on the contrary, she lifted up her little, shy blushing, tearful face for him to kiss, —at least that was the result, the first he had ever given her ; and then the two saunter ed together into paradise, through that op en door still left for poor scrubby earth, as some people consider it. Then Rachel crept quietly home, and was perfectly unconscious of her grandfather's remarks, answering yes or no at random all the evening, " for the beating of her own heart was all the sound she heard ;" while she lived that one hour over and over again. Leverton was not long iu finding out the difference of her manner. She had never shown him anything more than simple civ ilty, but now she looked fluttered instead of amused when he came into the house, and he very soon guessed the cause. Next he dogged her footsteps, and found the two k ogether. Maurice had been working hard to find some settled occupation, when he thought he might go to the old clerk with a better chance of success. One evening Rachel heard his low whistle near the cot tage and stole out to hear news of his plans They lingered just a little too long at the edge of the orchard, bidding good by a lit tle too often, for Leverton passed by the edge of the wood and scowled like th. fiend at the sight of Adam and Eve. He went immediately by the back of the house in to the old clerk. " Do ye know where be Rachel at this minit, Master Russell ? that young scoun drel Maurice and she be colloguing iu the orchat at th stile." Old Silas hobbled out iu time to see the parting, and when Rach el turned homeward she met his angry growls, as he seized her arm and dragged her into the cottage, vowing that Maurice should never darken his doorstep, a beggar ly fellow, who would never own naught; a chap as were no use to nobody, &c. REGARDUESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER. TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, PA., JUNE 21, 1866. Poor Rachel led a sad time of it. Her grandfather hardly let her go out of his sight. Leverton continued to frequent the house. Rachel had till now been a mere plaything for spare half-hour : his inclina tion for her would probably have died away if all had been smooth, but it became very earnest now that she took so much winning. Ilis whole soul was bent upon catching Maurice in some act which might entail a long imprisonment upon him, and so dispose of him for a time. He hated him as an over bearing nature detests what stands in the path to its will. Maurice had kept out of the way as much as possible in order that poor Rachel might not suffer, and had continued his earnest search for permanent work which yet should not take him out of the district (which your true forest autochthones hate like death). — One fine autumn Sunday, however, he went up to church, keeping rather apart from the scattered groups out of the different cotta ges. The church, built of flint with stone quoins, stood on a little hill apart from any village, with some beautiful old elms and picturesque oaks round it. The only dwel ling in sight was an old farm-house, the re mains of a large manor which had belong ed to one of the regicides, who, on windy nights, without his head (I suppose as an appropriate punishment, in which case the tradition was curions as an indication of feeling in England at the time of his death) drove four headless horses down the hollow lane to the churchyard ; he was not pleas ant company to meet, and that side of the hill had rather an evil savor. At the bot tom of the hill rau a little river with a foot bridge across it. Beyond lay the few fields of the parsonage, and round in every di rection the great forest folding in on all sides. On week-days, it was a most solita ry place, on Sunday it served as the rural Pall Mall or nyde Park ; staid old labor ers who never met on other days, inter changed the gossip of the week, or more often sat in dignified silence, sunning them selves i a the porch. The ivy which cover ed tower and walls with a thick green coat, and eveo crept through the roof and hung within in long festoons unmindful of rural deans, had a trunk like a tree, and the boughs stuck out three or four feet from the wall. It was clipped up to a certain height, so as to form a shelter or pent house from the rain aud sun, under which stood a row of men with their backs leaning against the wall. It was almost as great an ordeal for a young girl to pass this rak ing fire of eyes into church, as for the squire's daughter to perform her first minu et at her first ball—the most tremendous exaction which society ever made on a modest young girl. Rachel was sitting on the tombstone of her grandmother (whom she sorely missed, in a quiet part of the churchyard, just be fore the service, while the old clerk was busy inside. She sat sad and silent, play ing with little Reuben, youngest of ten boys of one of her few acquaintances, when Mau rice's voice sounded close to her. " She var a good friend to me," he mut tered, looking at the grave ; then turning to her, " I've abrought thee a posy, Rachel) I got un from the squeer's gardener (this was four miles away). I dunna knaw what name thou givest they flowers, but my mother called um 'love in idles,"'and he put a bunch of purple and yellow pansies with their velvet leaves into her hand. She looked up with a bright smile and a blush, said nothing, but put the flowers into her bosom. The parson's bell was ringing, and with Reuben and his mother she followed the congregation who trooped in. But Lev erton had seen it all, and as he followed Mau rice iAto the church, he said in a loud whis per, so that all the philosophers of the porch could hear, "What, he's afraid now ofgo ing alter the stag and will only run after the women." Maurice ground his teeth, but did not turn. It was true that he had not been "out" for a long time, but not with the least idea of growing steady, as the polite world may suppose. It is almost impossible for a set tled state of society to realize the feelings of peasants in those parts iu those days.— The Crown is such an extremely imperso nal proprietor, its rights are held so light ly, its duties are still less considered ; the deer are such thororghly wild animals, that the land seems to belong to no one, and to be of use to nobody ; and the result alto gether was that no young man's conscience was at all more hurt by going out after the deer than the Hon. Mowbray Plantaget suflers remorse in aj Canadian forest going after aulk. It was a trial of skill between gentlemen of different professions : if the poacher caught the at ig, well ; if the keep er circumvented the poacher, it was fair too if not well. Silas himself, the majestic Silas, though as au official himself he had a natural lean ing to the authorities, would just as soon that his grandaughter should marry a poacher as a keeper, if he had been as well doing ; but Maurice just "scratted along," while Leverton had eighteen good shillings a week and a house, with the chance of better. Church began, but Maurice did not profit greatly ; in vain the clerk's periods struck his occupied ear. Silas was particularly great to to-day in certain psalms where he could Bound the proper plurals "priesteses" and "beasteses," in their place ; there was a new curate, a north countryman, and he had been so ill-advised as to try and reform these peculiar terminations, bat Silas knew better. "I won't l>e put down by nobody, let alone by he ; why I dunnot uuderstan' above half o' what he do say, he do talk so queer, he do ; therefore in conscious recti tude he now rolled them out with redoubled fervor. But neither this, nor the psalmody had any effect on Maurice. This greatly re-1 sembled the comet, sackbut, psaltery, aud all kinds of music which Nebuchadnezzar the king had for his private enjoyment.— The instruments were many and singular ; j so were the minds of the performers,—each went on his way rejoicing, quite regardless of any one else, with wonderful results. The curate also sometimes desired one spi ritual song, the choir another, and both continued their separate performance at the tops of their voices, till the strongest had it, which was of course the choir, num bers against authority. All this, however, was lost on Maurice, filled with his own thoughts. Where he sat he could just catch Rachel's pure sweet profile, looking very pale, but calm and and still. There was a curious old corbel over her with a beautiful head upon it; almost all the rest were queer grinning ap ish faces. (By what strange rule of con traries did our ancestors put such things into their churches ?) It was evidently the portrait of a queen,—the companion,a Rich ard 11. sadly mutilated, was still decipher able, —but Maurice always took it for an angel, and said it was like Rachel, and his prayer that day, if its vague longings had been translated into words, would have read, "Santee Rachele, ora pro me." At last the church was "loosed." It was a pretty sight to watch the little rivulets cf people streaming in their different direc- I tions, over l reen field and through wooded glade home ; white surplices (the smock frock) and red cloaks abounded ; the flat black silk hat, however, which went with it had even here disappeared into the bon net. ii. That evening Maurice's father began up on him about the "powney" ; she was growing tho old for the bavin*trade ; and ye mid get me another in no time, Maurice, if ye were the boy ye was, and Lad a mind to't. There's a stag of prime, to be found most nights now by the Squab-hollow, and I'd acome round wi th the powney for to carry on him whom." RerugiHO makes his arch-tempter in the Vatican fresco a very reverened old man. Ilis was a shrewder guess at human na ture than the usual form given to that worth}*: there is certainly no more dan gerous or subtle one ; and Maurice, stung in the morning by Leverton's gibe, and un der the sort of fascination which makes a man of another class speud the day in the wet reeds after a wild duck, or pay £ 1,000 a year to stalk the red deer in the Highlands, consented to go. For a fort night after, however, there was a great down-pour of rain, and the ntghts were dark ; moreover, Maurice was not anxious to go while he thought Leverton was on the alert. At last, one night the moon was full, the rain had ceased, and the clouds were high, bnt they went drifting across the heavens with a strong wind in the up per sky. It was a gusty, wild-looking night,—great fleecy masses of enormous size careering along, and making the moon as murky at times as if there were none, though the lower sky and the earth were very still. Maurice did not start from home, the keepers might be upon his trail, so he walked at sunset across the forest by the high road, and as soon as night fell, beat towards the haunt of the stag which he had marked for the last month. He passed over hill and dale, watching the moonlit glades, and the glancing holly bushes, and the dark masses of shade un der the trees ; and though without troub ling himself much about the picturesque, there was a keen sense of enjoyment in it. At last stalking cautiously a little emi nence in the middle of an open heathy part, which the wary deer had chosen for his bedchamber, in order to be able to see all around, he caught sight of the branching antlers among a herd of does. He dragged himself nearer and nearer still, and at last fired. The head fell, and he ran rapidly up the hill, the hinds racing off in all direc tions ; he took out his knife to finish the poor thing's life, and begin cutting him up, when very low on the still night breeze came the bay of a hound. " They've agot the bloodhound out after me," thought Maurice, will a thrill, not exactly of terror, though there were terrible stories told of the hound, and he was only brought out on great occasions. There was no use in attempting to get the stag off now ; and he set off at a long trot towards running water, and a fre- | quented road to destroy the scent. He I ran up a little stream, but the rain had j filled it, aud it was unpleasantly deep, and prevented his getting on. He passed into a byre, where some lean cows had been driven in, for the same reason ; still on | aud on, for he could hear the low bay of the hound growing nearer and nearer ; ev idently he was upon the scent, and was summoning his master. The perspiration ran down Maurice's face, and his blood cur dled, for he was beginning to grow faint with fatigue ; the horrible brute's dreaded and dreadful voice was the only sound ex cept the wind that reached his ear ; and besides the physical dread of being torn by a beast which even a brave man shrinks from, the thought came over him with a force he never had felt before, that if ever Leverton caught and put him in prison, what a chance it was giving him with Ra chel's grandfather ; and he ground his teeth at his own folly. He might have thought of this before, says sage reader. Yes, but Maurice was not the first or the last young man who has eaten sour grapes, and whose teeth has been consequently set on edge. His strength was very nearly gone. He, the swiftfoot of the village, was reduced to a pace that a child might have overtak en, when he suddenly remembered that the river was so full with the rain, that it could not be crossed save at the bridge far below ; and that, if he could but jump a crtain place which he well knew, where the overarching banks had narrowed the channel, he should be safe for a time from the human part of his pursuers. No man but himself he knew would dare such a leap, and he could do battle with the best as from a vantage-ground. He felt very uncertain whether he could cross it himself, exhausted as he was ; but it was his last chance, and he plunged short off to the right. The river was overflowing its banks on either side ; a dark mass of troubled water, bringing with it matted clods of grass aud boughs of trees broken away in its forest course, swept past. When it reached the narrow, it foamed and tumbled and swirled into whirlpools ; the ground about was wet and swampy with rain. Tt was an ugly leap, and Maurice felt that if he missed his footing, he must be lost; for neither man nor beast could live in such a torrent. He had generally, too, taken the jump from the other side, where the ground was a little the highest ; here he would have to jump up, which increased the diffi culty, and he stood for a second or two measuring the distance. The night-wind sighed among the branches ; everything was still but the turbid rushing water. He had lost time by coming down that way ; he must jump or be taken. He sprang at last in desperation. The gound was so soaked that, in spite of the run which he took, he had hardly any im petus ; he caught at a sapling as his foot touched the other side ; both it and the per- Annum, in Advance. J ground gave way, but a friendly beech j root below held good, and he fell foremost Iby main strength on shore, and on the right side. He was hardly sensible for the next lew minutes ; and when he rose, panting he could scarcely bear to go near the foaming brink again ; but it was his best hope, and he ensconced himself in the roots of the beech, with his gun reversed in his hand. He could hear the growl of the hound, now on the crest of the knoll, whence he had just himself come down ; the clouds were gathering again over the moon, but enough light was left to see the huge and dreaded brute come in sight at his slow, unerring trot and pause on the edge before making his spring, for he saw his man. Now or never. As he sprang, Maurice amid a tremendous blow at him with the butt-end of his gun, and with a frightful yell he fell into the boiling seeth ing whirlpool. Maurice shook from head to foot with rage and fatigue, and a sort of misery at his deed ; his sportsman na ture could not bear to have killed a dog as he would a wild beast ; it was a sort of high treason in woodcraft ; and besides, he remembered how Rachel used to fondle him. The dog never reappeared, and sad ly he turned home, footsore and completely beat. His father, who had gone out with the "powney." had reached home before him, and was anxiously on the watch. When the keepers came up to the house, both father and son were in bed ; but, although Leverton felt certain that Maurice was the culprit, no one had seen him, there was not the slightest evidence against him ; and as Leverton had taken the dog with out leave, he was not anxious to make much fuss about its death, lest the blame should fail on him. So the thing blew over, but he hated Maurice all the worse for the failure of his night's work. It had been a great lesson for Maurice himself. He began to mistrust his father, to see that whatever might be the abstract right and wrong of poaching, it never would enable him to win Rachel, and that he was playing his rival's game with the old clerk most satisfactorily. Regular work was slack, but to keep himself out of mischief, he hired himself as carekeeper to a farmer four miles off, and the winter passed quietly away. He was now hardly ever at home, for he was off by daylight and home long after dark ; but somehow Loverton was convinced that he and Rach el met if only for a minute at a time. With all his care he could not come upon them, but sometimes she looked a little brighter, and her steps were more light, and then Leverton, whose senses were sharpened by jealousy, could have told pretty nearly to an hour when they had come together. It was a long and hard winter to poor Rachel, but spring came at last, and Mau rice's six months were over ; his master wanted him no more, and he returned home for a time. It was a beautiful May. The apple and cherry orchards were sheets of blossom, May and yellow broom and "fuzzen" scented the air, the ground was a perfect carpet of anemones, blue harebells, and primroses, " While the blackbird and the thrush, Good morrow said from brake and bush," and Maurice and Rachel, like the birds, could not but be glad too in their spring, and feel convinced that all must go right with their love. "Look at you," he said, as they stood hand in hand one day, "un der the hawthorn in the dale " He pointed to a chaffinch flying with a long straw in its beak to make its nest. " They've a-had a hard winter too, but it be all acome right with um, aud they're abuilding their nest eses as we shall soon ourn, Rachel." She smiled a happy smile and turned to go. "What art theu adoin' of to-morrow?" said Maurice ; " art agoing to Mrs. Strange's?" " No, not to-morrow, on'y Thursday." "And what time wilt thou be acoming whuom, for my feyther be aworkin' up by Long dean, and I alius come back that way if so be I can. I love the grove, and I'd be there to take thee back at any time thou bidd'st." They settled the hour, and she tripped off home. There had been another listener. 0 i Thursday Rachel made good haste with her work ; Mrs. Strange had never known her so anxious to have done. She was rather a fussy old body, however, and it was past five before Rachel was able to get away. She had flurried herself by her haste, and only breathed freely when she came to the grove of tall beech. The beauty of.the forest in spring is in describable : the sort of pink bloom on the oak before the leaves come out, the bright green of the young beech-buds just burst ing the emerald moss and the curled brack en before it opens, looking like a regiment of bishop's croziers ; nothing else grows under a beech, but wherever there is an opening, there lies a whole garland of flowers, rare orchises, aud crowfoot and violets, and tall thorns covered with show ers of bloom crowning the whole. It was here that Maurice had met her nearly two years before, and told her that he loved her ; and for some time she was so occu pied with her own thoughts, that she did not find the time long. At least it grew quite late, there was no Maurice, the shad ows began to creep fast under the trees, the sun was almost down, and she was growing nervous, when she saw a num ber of cows on their leisurely road home, poking their noses into a thicket not far off, snuiling the ground,galloping off again, and returning to look once more, as is the manner of cows, who are very curious by nature. She could see the herd-boys, trying to get them home, at last go and ex amine for themselves, and heard their ories of wonder ; one raced off to the nearest cottage, the smallest, little Reuben, saw her and ran up, great in his importance at having a story to tell. " 0 Rachel, it's blood, there's quite a pool of blood, and it's all trampled and torn round, only p'raps the cows has made that ; and Rachel, Tom says that both Leverton and Maurice is missin' sin' yester day evening'. The keeper was a collin' of him all about the villiage to-day, and old Master Lovel wanted Maurice badly, for the wood cuttin' could na be finished with out he." Rachel sat down iu mute terror, too miserable even to think out her own thought. CONCLUDED NEXT WEEK. ANNUAL REPORT OF THE PREBIDENT OF THE YOUNG MEN'S CHRISTIAN ASSOCIA TION, TOWANDA BROTHERS—In presenting to you this first Annual Report of the operations of our As sociation, I no donbt express the feelings of all, in saying tliat we have great reason for gratitude to God for the way in which he has led us. Although our history, as an organization, carries us but one year back, I cannot but feel that the real beginning of our work was when eight years since, a few of our number instituted what was a new thing in Towanda, a Young Men's Un ion Prayer Meeting, and if it was not foreign to the immediate object of this report, it might be interesting to hear the history of that meeting. The encouragements and discouragements met with. How the ques tion would sometimes arise as to the pros pect of continuing it, when week after week but two or three would meet together. And how it was continued, and, in answer to the prayers there made, its attendance so in creased as to make our present organiza tion advisable. Whatever doubts any of us may have had one year ago, in regard to the advan tages proposed to be gained by giving to our quiet prayer meeting the more perma nent and aggressive character of a Young Men's Christian Association, cam surely have no place in our minds, when we look at the work accomplished during the past year, and know that much of it, humanly speaking,would not have been done but for its timely action. Early in the year the Board of Managers were fortunate in securing our present rooms, and were soon able, through the lib erality of our citizens, to furnish and make them a pleasant and profitable place of re sort, by keeping upon our tables a good se lection from the various secular and relig ious newspapers nnd magazines of the day, and it is a satisfaction to know that our ef forts in this direction met with some suc cess; many of our young men whose even ings were not wholly occupied by business, and who were deprived of the retirement and pleasures of home, have availed them selves of the freedom of our Reading Room to spend an hour, which otherwise, might have been passed amid influences for evil. And I would here suggest to our Board of Managers, that in future greater effort be made to make our Rooms attractive to this class of persons. It is evident that if they can be made the resort of those who would for the want of a better place, go to the sa loon or bar-room, for an honr of relaxation, after the business of the day, an incalcula ble amount of good will be accomplished. In this connection I would call your at tention particularly to the important duties of the Committee on Strangers. As the population of our town increases, great re sults may be looked for from the work of this Committee, whose duty it is to acquaint themselves with young men coming among us as strangers, and endeavor to throw around them good influences. I am pleased to report that a fair begin ning has been made for a Library. A few books have been bought, and a valuable collection of about one hundred volumes, selected from the library of the late Rev. JCIJCS FOSTER, has been presented to the Association by his family. While we can not hope'to make large additions by pur chase for Bome time to come, much may be done by the members of the Association towards enlarging and giving to our libra ry a more permanent character. A partial Course of Lectures was main tained during the fall and winter, but ow ing to the many interruptions and disap pointments, the Lecture Committee are obliged to present an unfavorable report financially, although great credit is due them for their untiring efforts to make the course, in this respect, a success. As will be seen by the report of the Treasurer, our finances are not in as pros perous a condition as could be wished. The expenditures, the past year, have been large, amounting, for the various pur poses of the Association, to over one thou sand dollars, and several orders on the Treasurer, amounting to about one hundred dollars, remain unpaid for want of funds. I trust that some plan may be adopted which will make our revenue sufficient for all ordinary expenses. The recent amend ment to the Constitution pr_ vides but par tially for this, and unless some additional provision be made, I fear that my successor will be obliged to report as I do, a deficit. The regular Sunday Evening Prayer Meeting of the Association, has been well sustained throughout the year, and the pe tition so often made, that the numbers of those who loved to meet with us for praj er might be increased from among the young men of Towanda, has been gloriously an swered. It became evident during the fall and early part of the winter, from the in creasing interest in oqr meetings, that we were being prepared for a more than ordi nary outpouring of the Holy Spirit. That precursor of nearly all revivals, the awakening of GOD'S people, was clearly manifest. And although we thought our faith was strong that souls were about to be converted, how weak it was in compari son with the perfect avalanche of bless ings that came upon us. A short time before the week of prayer in January, it was decided to hold a series of Union Meetings, and to invite the Rev. E. P. H.vMMONn, whose efforts had been so wonderfully blessed iu other places to con duct them. The co-operation of the Pas tors of our several churches was gained, and with the commencement of his labors, began the greatest religious awakening and ingathering of souls ever known in our town. Both old and young felt that they were concerned in the great question, " 'What shall Idoto be saved." And large numbers of those who made the enquiry, sought until they found peace and joy in believing. I have been unable to ascertain with any accuracy, the whole number of converts, for the interest was not confined to the Bo rough, but extended throughout the entire county. Scarcely a village within its bounds but was in some degree concerned iu it. NUMBER 4. Oue marked feature of the work, was, that muck of it was accomplished through the agency of laymen. Delegations of young men, being sent by the Association to the neighboring towns and school dis tricts, in answer to the daily requests for assistance. While we have no cause to boast of anything we have done, there is reason for gratitude that the efforts thus put forth, were blessed by the Holy Spirit to the salvation of so many souls. Many there are who regard the koung Men's Christian Association of Towanda, as the agency, though, perhaps, not the immedi ate one' by which, with the blessing of God, they were brought to the Savior. With so much then to encourage, let us begin the work of another year with renew ed zeal, making a constant effort to sustain our organization in its appropriate work, that its influenoe may be felt here as a power for good. Remembering always, that while the means are with us, the re sults are with GOD, and be ever looking to Him who giveth the increase for his bless ing upon what we may try to do. N. N. BETTS, JB., President.
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