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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.