Bradford reporter. (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, March 13, 1879, Image 1
TIMIS, or PUBLICAUOI. The Munn:min Raronral is pablished every Thursday morning by Ooematcn a litncncbcs, at One Dollar and Fifty Cent per annum, ad vance. INMA.drertising In ail cities eselisive of sub: Acription to the paper. . + SPECIAL NOTlCESlnserted at TV; cititeS per fine for first insertion, and 'Wiesner; peeling for each subsequent Insertion, but uo notice Inserted for less than fifty cents. YEARLY ADVERTISEMENTS will be insert ed at reasonable rates. . Administrator's and Executor's Notices, (R; Auditor's liotlces,r-50 ; Business Cards, five lines, (per year) di, additional lines fl each. . Yearly advertisers .are entitled to quarterly changes. Transient advertisements mast be paid for in adeanes. All resolutions of associations; oommuniestinna of limited or individual Interest; and notices of marriages or deaths, exceeding live lines are charg ed rick cants per line, but simple notices of mar riages and de Ohs will be published without charge. whe RSPOttittt having a larger circulation than any other paper in the county, makes It the beat advertising medium'in Northern Pennsylvania. JOB PRINTING et every kind, In plain and fancy colors, done with neatness and dispatch. Handbills, Ittankn, (!anis. Pamphlets, Billheads. Statements, de., of eteryFarlety and style, printed at the shortest notice. 'the !IMPORT= offlea. Is well supplied -ntql power presses, a good assert meut of new type, and everything In the printing line can tie executed in the. most artistic manner and at the lowest rates. • TERMS INVARIABLY CASH. . Vusittess garbs. JAMES WOOD, ATTottsEDAT-LAw, TOWANDA, PA. ruch946 OVERTON kSANDF,RBON, A. TTOENZY,474.I,IIT, TOWANDA. PA. Jll. JOIII , I F. SANDERS° N I==:E3 R ATTORNE'r.A.TTLAW, OdleWaver Braund St 111 meat nutate t, Towanda, Jan. IS. 1579. • L. HILLIS, • ATTORNEY•AT•LAW, TOWA NDA , PA. i 7 F. GOFF, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, 1 • Main Street (4 doors north of Ward. Mania), To. winds, Pa. • CA prlll2, 1877. PATRICK ar, FOYLE, ArraßNElrs-AT-LAW, • TOWANDA,':rA. ()lice, In Mutant's Block. J 1717.73. VV - IL. TITOMPSON, ATTORNEY • Al LAW,\VVALCSING. I I . A. 'WM attend b. alt Imsiness entrusted to Ids care `atiltradtord, Sullivan and Wyoming, Counties. On3:e , with Esq. r due. rnovl9-74. MASON S., 'HEAD, r • • TTONESS-AT-LAW. • Towanda4 Pa. Offic i n over Bartlett &Tt acy, P.3IaSON. ra9'77) 'Alan:ea EAT?. TLSBREE R SOS; A TTO it !kl EV S-A TOWANDA, rA. N. C. CLsituF.E. /I D. KINNEY, kJ. , ATTORNEY-AT-LAW: 'olfiCe—Ttnoivs formerly occupied by Y. 3f. C. A. Rea ling Room. tjan.3l-78. McPIiERSON, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW, TOW.A.BDA, Diet Atry Brad. en. JOHN W. MIX, ATTOItNEY•AT•LAW AND U. S. COMMIES/WU:I7,, TOW A N DA. PA. Office—Norm Square. DAV/ES & .CARNOCIIAN, ATToRNICTS-AT-LAW, S , )ETD' SIDE OF wArai 'OUSE. Dec 23-75. TOWANDA. PA: J ANDREW WILT,. • ArrOnNSY-AT-LAW.: • ()Mee over Cross' Book Stom, two 'doors-north of Stevens ag Long, Towanda, Pa. May be consulted la German. (April 12. 76.1 J. YOUNG, A TTOR N ET-A T-i. AW, TOWA N DA. PA tinier—gerund door 's'outh of the First Nat'nual ~...11ank Main St., up stairs. • WILLIAMS k ANGLE, AiToniotYs-AT-L.s.w -(lFFlCl..—Fornierty occupied by Wm. 'Watkins, E ,4 1. 11. N. WILLIAMA. (0ct.17. - 77) 8. .1. ANGLt.. --WM. MAXWELL, ATTOUSTEV-AT-LAW . TON - i?A N DA, CA. °Mee) over Dayton's Store.' T April 12, 1878. , C 1 L. LAMB; kJ. ATTOILNEV-AT-LAW, WILKES-BARITE, PA - Collectlon4l prOmptly attended to. 'duly 27."74. ,OVERTON & NitItCUR, ATTOUNEYS-AT-LAW, ToW A Ni).A, Office am? Siontanyes ;Afore. [may67s. II 'A. OVERTON. ---,- RODNEY . A. 31 ERCUR. 31Am.LL & CALIFF, ATTOUNETS-AT-LAR, T 4 pW AN DA. PA. 048tH In Wnort's Mark. nrst door eouti tho First !tat ',mai hank. up-stairs. 14 1 MADI LL. rjanB-73iy) J. CALIF?. CHAS. 11A14.,, iTTORNF.T-AT-LAW AND JURTICE OF PEACE TOWANDA, PA FIRE IN•II - RA NCR IN RELIABLE COMPANTER. ct nic.• os er I taynnt's harness store. Nov. 21. '7B. DR. 8. M. WOODBURN, Physi -I_, clan and surgeo . n. Oalce over 0. A. Black's Crockery store. Towanda, May 1, 1! 4 721y.. • B. KELLY, DENTIST.--oflice v • ° vol. M. E. Rosenfield's, Towanda, I. Treth Inserted on Gold. Silver, Rubber, and Al arniaum 14'56. Teeth ertracted without pain. MEM r P PAYNE, M. D., PIkItSICIAN AN I ' l SURGEON. Office aver Mootanyes• Store. /Mr., tioUtti from lo co 12, A. 111„ and front 2 to 4, P.M. Special attention Cis - onto dime:L.os of the E. and Far.-C1et,19.'78-11f. • CI NV, R Y AN, ) • COL'S TY SUIDEIZI9T4ND7ZNT. day laßt Saturday of each month. over Turner Si Gordon's Drug store, Towanda, Pa. Towanda. Juno 20. 10S. AIRS. H. I'EET, TEACIIEB Or PIANO 'Music, TERMS...Aid per term. (Iteshienex Third street, Ist ward.) Tiowninl.t; Jan, 13,'19-iy. C S. ti,USSF A LL'S . . . GENERAL INSURANCE AGENCY 1 4 , Ly2F,70t1 INSURANT-E'AGENPY. The following RELIABLE AID FIRE TRIED Companies represented; • L I NCSITIREMIRENIX,IIOItE.METteIfIANT6 March 0. A. BLAeK. P AINTINGS. 1- PORTRAITS AND LANDSCAPES _ Painted to order at any price tromp to WO. kiii Paintings Itt_ , Painted, Jte-Tquehe , or changes made as desired. All work done in the highest style of the Att. / JOIIANN Y. BENDER. Towanda. Pa , A-pril 18, MS. r v Arr ° , lE.sSu P, . 7tTTORcET xten COrs'aELLOit•AT-LaV, MONTROSE. PA. :lodge Jessup haling resumed ihe practice — Of the 1.1.1.1 in Northern r enusylvanta; will attend twany b gal hTOne‘k intrusted to blin - In Bradford county. wlrbtng to consult him, can call on B. sth•etcr. }.N., Towanda, Pa., witpu an apiailatmen HENRY STREETER; ATTORNEY AND COLNLBLLOII•AT-LAW, TOWANDA, PA FIRST NATIONAL BANK; TOWANDA, PA. $1123.000 80,000 CAPITAL PAID IN sturtus FUND... Tlen4 Rant offers, iantisnal belittles forthe trams action of a general banking bualnesa, JOE. POW ELL, President. COODRICH & HITCHCOCK, Publishers. VOLUME XXXIX. Lire fins i goblet burnished. • That with los'elor wine was filled ; The cup Is bruised and tarnished, And tho•prrcious a Ins is Butt? the traveler weary, Jfrst coming ha sight of home, What does ft matter bow , dreary The way whereuy he his come? rani .1 48. • In the northern sunset's glitnnier. The Great Bear opened his eyes ; Low to the east a shinitner Showed where the tap moon would rise Yesterday's'sikadow and sorrow That tninnent all vanished away here Were today and to-morrow— What matter for yesterday ? • —Oodif Word*. PROUD PEARL'S CAPRICE. L..fitsßnEE The blaie of countless wax-lights, the scented air - of .sweet - flowers and -their rival perfumes, the hum of 'many, voices, the fluttering of gauze and silks, the gliding of hundreds of feet, some shod in - laquer ,and others in daintiest satin ;- the sparkle of in numerable gems, the more bewilder ing sparkling of human eyes, the im portant whispers of asfeet lips, the laughter of light hearts-LnerhapS the heaViest ones laugh the loudest, who can tell'?—and aboVe all this is the moving spirit of the giddily gay scene—music !—Strauss' dance sic, bewildering strains, played, with so wonderful 'a power that they seem to force even the most lethergic of men and the most affected 'of women on to their feet, eager to' join the whirling, festive throng. The 1)all is given by Madame la Comtesse de Monteferrata, and 'cele brates the twenty-filth birthday of Victor, her !only son, he pride and joy of his willo*ed mother. Madame is an EngliSh 'woman, who has grand relations drid,great personal wealth: In her enthusiastic girlhood she mar-. vied a noble Spaniard, moved by the eloquence of his melting e 3 es, his graceful dancing, and', above all;hy that charming fashion' he had of ser enading her before the windowslA the. British Embassy in Madrid. • Oh! those wonderful moonlit nights when she leaned from her balcony and re warded him with . a rose she had worn, and which he pressed so ar dently to his lips. Bin all that hap- . pened many years ago ' • it would have been forgotten now, hot those arc just the episodes' of life that women do not forget. ' It is over a score of years since the "nObil senor" has been gathered: to his ancestors, but Madame la Cbmtesse has by no means forgotten his dark eyes and bright smile even now. After her husband's death the Countess re -1 turned to England to live amon g her own people, and devoted her days anti all her thotiglits to her two drea. Victor—fair-haired, blue-qed —is essentially an. English-looking lad; the Very son of his mother, while Inez seems the gentle counterpart of the handsome, dark senor, her father. "What a charming assembly you have here to-night, Madame la;Com tessel It gladdens even the. eyes of an old soldier, who goes AO-morrow to look on . very different scenes." So says, 'with a profound .bow of greeting, a venerable4ooking French= man, one every inch a soldier, froth his keen black eyes and heavy white moustache, down to the extra polish on his square-toed boots. . " Are -things really looking so seri ous with you, General ?" asks the Comtesse.with sympathy. " Serious, Madame ? Heavens I but we shall have war—absolute hand to-band war, and they shall learn to tremble in Berlin when they know us better. We will teach them. Ali! there goes my noble young friend Victor. Would he were in my regi ment. Of such stuff are heroes made." (feb.ilS Jar!. 1, 187., " Pray, General, do not 'let him hear you." "Not for worlds, Madame, if it should cause you a Moment'i anx iety." "Young men are so enterprising, so enthusiastic,",says the fond moth er; "they are always eager to rush into danger , and any novelty attracts them. I should not like Victor to be led away by wild emulation in . this cause, which to me, I must con fess the fact, appears a veritable dill mera." " On that point we will not argue, rMadame,.and as to Monsieur Victor, the mother's fears are surely uncall ed for," says. the - General, drily. "The young man seems 'far too much engrossed at present to five heed to the remarks of any outsider. Well, I don't wondetli his companion is very lovely..,Who is she ? " "Oh! a litle nobody—my daugh tter's companion. Au orphan we have partly adopted ; I knew her poor mother well. She is rather pretty, as you say; and (dear Victor is so considerate, and thinks it is his duty to dance with all, as far as possible. Remember he is host to-night." F. . 4 And a host in himself, Lady Monteferrata," says an influential Englishman, coming tip at the, mo ment; on which these three immedi ately plunge into the great war ques tion again, which at this time is ki:,e ginningto agitate Europe, and thre4t ens soon to convulse the Continent. Meanwhile Victor and " tha nobody" have a subject of more vi tal import to themselies to discuss TOWANDA, PA Feb 21, •70 N. N. BETTS, Cashier 14, 1478, ■ North AT. NIGHTFALL. Coming along by the meadows, Just after the sun went down, Watchlug the gaLbtrineabadows Creep over the ht hides brown. , Cooing along In the‘gloatnlng, Iklth neier a star In the sicy,i _ Ityithoughts went a.roamlng, - a.roamlng Through days that are 1011 g gone by. Days when desire said, "To-morrow', To-morrow, heart, well he gay r. Days ere the heart heard the sorrow Which echoes through „yesterday. Conan along by the meadows, And watehing.the fading day.. Dusklei than night's dusky shadows Fell shadows of yesterday., . . Lights In a telndr were glen And some one sibed At the gate, .• Said, "'Why do you stem: there dreaming? And why are you twine so late? Cak. CHAPTER L • IN TUE BALL-ROOM I IV kL than general questions concerning empires and dynasties. " Come into , the- conservatory, Pearl. I must talk to you away from this maddening, noisy crowd, and as he speaks Victor draws her little hand close within his arm. .She leaves it passively, and walks on si lently by his side, through a loig, dimly-lighted corridor, which leads to the furtherest entrance of the great glass' house. - CHAPTER IL IN THE CONSELLVATOBY. • The conservatory is very large—it is built along one. entire side.of the house. It contains magnificent plants of tropical. growth. Huge _palms and graceful ferns form a ver dant and shading screen. Entering at the last door, Victor feels. secure, from the prying .eyes of visitors. He places. Pearl in a low' rustic 'seat, and stands before her in silent con templation. " I, • thought you wished to talk m to. e,. Monsieur le Comte P " she says.r . presently, and as she speaks shelitAs her clear gray eyes steadily to his: . " Has it 'evei. happened that I do not want to talk to you! Oh why have you so utterly withdrawn your self from me of late, Pearl? I scarce ly-ever . see you at all, and never alone. Yoikavoid me as though you . hate me—yOu, Pearl---who are my very life l'How I hate longed, hoped, prayed for to-night 1 1 could scarce ly await its coming. But I thank God I have had my reward. I have held yod in my arms, and we haVe danced together; 'you the loveliest of women, and I the happiest, the very happiest, of :men." He pauses for .a_ momerlt. She is no longer. looking up at him, and sits motion less. . . He snatches at'ller hand and Press es it fervently ; she meets his - eyes again, and a faint smile comes to tier lips. In truth, she is a very lovely woman. Her hair is of that wonder ful. chestnut color. in the waves of which golden light seems to play at hide-and-seek; her clear gray eyes are shadowed.by dark lashes, the firm .chin is cleft by a delicious dimple, and it was for the tinting of her won derouS skin that herromantic mother called her "Pearl." "Dearest." says Victor, with re newed tenderness, "do my eyes be tray tun.? Does my voice move you? Doesimy heart speak to yours of its passionate adoration :i Pe. I—you Pearl beyond price, I have don your bidding, I have waited in silence for a whole year! Today "jhave at tained my majority. I am. 'my own thaster, I know of no will but my own, and 1 get possession of a for tune- that even you might deign to accept. And all this—will—fortune —absolute command of: myself and -all that ever may be mine, t lay at your feet. Will you bless me? Pearl, will you be my wife ? " As he speaks his n H says overpowers - him. -e says no further words, but throws himself a suppliant upon the ground At her feet. . 'She is strangely quist, and hesitates a Ding minute before she answers hini.\ Of all_her.charms perhaps the greatist is. Pearl's voice. In its-low musical tones she now speaks to her lover, and he hears her to the end ; but as he 'listens he is thrilled by a measureless pleasure and by a meas ureless pain. ",Ile himself S'earcely knows which emotion is keenest. " Mmisieur le ~ Comte," she says, believe me I value truly the great honor you are doing me, and more still the true love which, as you now have proved, lives in your heart for me. I have learned it well ere this. You have indeed bravely\kept your word. For a whole long car you have been silent on. this, sub.kect, on which just twelve - months ago you first spoke tei,me. And floss", yout come to repeat your questien,\and not having changed ,your mind/e*- pect an answer. Aou r are rich,„hanth some, noble. You can hold,;Aip your head . with the highest in /the land, and you come to me who/have noth ing—am nobody—a poor dependant, living on your mother's charity, be frended by your gently' sister—you come to me, and„tisk me to be your i wife ! Oh! it work you were poor! 1f we might and live together ! If you were an artist like my poor dead father, who struggled so hard.„ and to whom a wife was as a right hand- 7 =a help and a blessing !—how . I *id. glory in helping yoti, -in watching rise, as rise you surely would, aye, and assert yourself, your true, noble self, among men. I am very proud, Victor! Is- that a tault ? Think how proud I _should be of you, and of your success! Now you have no need to work, no desire to diitinguiSh yourself. Your fath er's: title and your mother's wealth make you an object of admiration and . envrto your little world. Such a little world after all! Your whole life:has been one of indulgence, -tlat •tery has surrounded you. There has never been need for you to lift your little finger, or to endeavor to, be usefultd .yourself or others. I !Ike • you much, Victor, but I can. never marry you. lam no fitting wife for' the Comte de Monteferrata.l f I must look up to my life's lord. with vene ration, and he must have won some- thing, fir hiMself aid by his own merits; something no'money pan buy. Then I could sit at his feetin abso lute content, admire, worship, and obey my hero ! " She rises and with a gentle movement withdraws the hem of her dress, on which he is kneeling. Lie has scarcely realized all she had ; said, but he feels she is going, going from him, who; alas! has no laurpl crown tolay at the feet of this proud, ambitious, lovely, love able woman. Ile also starts up now and seizes her arms almost roughly. "'You mean to leave we, this to be our farewell ? " " - It is best to part at once, as it most be for all time. I cannot marry the Comte tie Monteferrata." Because to his mother and his Father alone he , vies his position y " he cries, "You have said," she answered quietly. "There is tprrs other shadow divid ing us ? 'There is not graven in that deep: heart of yours the picture, the 1 , t7 ...y.% \ r , • I. ;.TOWANDA, - -'BUDFOW)-,,COVITTY,iI-PL,.,:::THIIIiStAt thought even, of any other man ?", "Great - heaven, no!" "If I:—for you—Unaided—alone . = can, win honor and renown - p rove myself:A man among ,men, flghVmy way upward if I can .— thus win dis ;tinetion for you,will you deem me Wor thy ? •Will you then be thy wife ? " I will." " You promise faithfully, on. your honor ? "I swear it," she pauses for a mo ment, then flings her arms about his eck and ,looks into his eyes.' " swear it, ;Victor, by the , love that ,in my heart of hearts I gave to you even' before you asked it." And she lifts her head and se - Ma her toond with a kiss upon his lips. 1 CRAPTER HI. IN THE COMTESSE'S BOUDOIR. There is terrible trouble and eon-. fusion in the house of Madame la Comtesse the morning after the ball. Victor has gone. Re - has !led from his house in theearly dawn, and has left only a few Bing addressed to his mother. The note runs thus: "Moth er,, forgive me. I dared not speak to You.btfore I left, for you would have bid mh stay! Pray do not seek me; it is my earnest wish. not to be found, and I shall take every precaution against. discovery. My resolve is to quit the life of luxury and. idleness have hitherto led. I feel that my better self is getting ignobly lost. I must 'work—must learn to assert my self. Thus and thus only- can I bon: or the woman who has promised (when such success is achie t ved) to be my wife.. I have long loved Pearl Tenn:land, and all my hopes of hap piness centre in her. When I am gone, dear mother, love hey for me, this I pray of both you and of Inez —dear gentle sister Inez. You have both reason to be proud of my Pearl, for she will give you cause to be proud of your sou, and it is she who has raised the spirit of emulation within me; and I mean to.prove my self worthy of the love of the three best women in the world, whom I leave under this roof to-night." Roused to - unknown fury by the passion of motherly love and des pair, by wild anger against Pearl, and wilder fears for her lirst-bort, Madame la Comtesse-summons "Miss Tu ro uand." " You have lived with my.daugh ter and been her constant compan ion, Pearl;" says the Comtesse, stri ving bard to speak calmly, "I believe, I hope I have nev er failed in my duty toward you, the pleasant duty of a hostess toward an honored guest. Is that so?" Gravely sweet Pearl bows her head. Tier heart is heavy within her and her . cheeks, her very lips are pale; but her voice does not tremble as she replies: "No lady could have treated' a trusted friend with More uniform courtesy and kindness, Madame, than you have invariably shown,to me. Believe me, lam deeplygrate ful.' . Her humble tone, her downcast looks, exasperate the Comtesse, and arouse a feeling of burning anger in, her maternal bosom, Her u. - pa c face flushes hotly as she c "And do you dare to speak of trust. and gratitude,' wretched, miserable girl—you, who have bro ken my heart ? 'You, who. have sto len my beautiful boy from me? You, who have crept with your sly looks and your sly-words j„into his lower nature and made Yourself mistress there ? That is the empire you have obtained. a cause for pride ! Ito not Lo answer me! _I thought bring myself to speak;or • you—to you. But nature wia assert ,herself—the moth er's nature—and you shall be' pun ish 4 1 Will punish you, and you shall sutrer—if you can suffer. To think that 1, his most unhappy Moth er, should stand . here t6-be defied by you—you pale-faced girl—by you, who have robbed meof:my son, my joy, my pride. Where has he gone? where - have you bid him go? You now his secret--he has trusted it to you, for you have driven him away, while 1, his mother, am left desolate, in utter ignorance of what has be come \ of my son. Oh! it is bard - too hard." • . . Indeed, Madame, I'know nothing, truly nothing. Your son honored me too much Ile sought to make me his wife, and I, intensely proud of i him, for him, besought him to dia. Uppish liimself,\to wins name to—" "Enough , , cruel, cruel girl. Per haps you cannot realize the awful thing, you have done. Tout have ruined my peace of mind; you have robbed me of my joy, 'ray hope and pride, for you. have sent,' him•to his death !" • " God forbid cried the girl, and a gleam of .terror dilated her eyes. " Pearl, you must have some pity, some feeling for me, - Oh ! tell me where he has cone! Let me go after him, kneel to him, pray him to come back, even as 1. now implore you ; implore you! If you have given him your promise to keep his intentions secret, break that promise, break it for his mother's sake.. Pearl, let us go together to pray him come back." Her haughty. spirit was quelled, and the 'wretched mother, forgetful of all but' her love and her fears for her boy, actually knelt a suppliant, at the feet of trembling Pearl. , "1 give you my true word I know nothing, absolutely nothing, of yoUr son's movements, Says Pearl in utter consternation. "We parted last night without his saying . one word to me beyond' his expressed in tention of earning distinction for himself. He vowed he would win a -name apart from his title,. and prove his mood among. men.. Those were his words! How he hasgone, For where, I cannot, tell you, for I do' not know." "Then you defy, me and refuse me, is that so?" cries the Comtesse, fiercely. . "Indeed, Madame, I do neither." `-` Shall I tell you where you have driwn him ? He had been talking to you during that lengthened• ab sence from the 'ball-room. - He was gale and. flurried on his return. 1 Hifi it. Ah me; how little I guessed the truth ! Then he entered into a animated discussion with my: old friend the General ; who left inimedi- . .. . - t ~ .1111- . 1::T.111...11111 liglii .7F - 11 - TZta . - ft!): i•.) ME lEEE REGARDMIS OIL ;DENTIXOIA 1110 F TRW ANT Qtro*FAß.„! r ~ . Maly after. - Iricter einiveyed tb mm the General's parting wordsoindtold! ;ne that. the_ valiant !old , Soldier la:: tended'starting for. Paris stAaybreaki, Thither, no doubt, in some ignoble disguise,, victor has followed also.", "Ignoble?_impossibleiF says Pearl, raising her, head , :for the, . . tine, during this painful intervjewi3O!Pft: you sgfiPY beliovc.this, 31 44 1 94 c V' am convinced of says the, C omtesse, " and this ' W,your Nov;'l thirik le • Ntiir sea f ,eeryibe: necessary for'the point' out to yoli'; alter 'what has' "occurred;, that' roof can shelter you "wiTloriger, Pearl Turquand. I - h9pe;•l pray; I shall never have' to look' , upon 'your face again:" ' • leave you !blew day, Mad, ame." • , • , ••• 1 .' • "Yes, go, noyc, at , 'orree, hi the least you.eau do." • • ,e. • I Pearl' makes an attempt 'to tone,ll; ,he Comtesse's_ hand, whichis hastily withdrawn. Then poor. Pearl, .with, bent head and tear-filled ,eyes, her way to the door. Uri the turd , hold Inez meets her. .; • "Yin will not leave' me 'Pearl '? You will not forsake ine . ,:dtio? for loves you! I 'lOve - yoU :both; dearlY. Let s ;us wait Tor • him to gether. 13e my sister still, as :you have ever been; and 'When •Vietor re turns he wilt draw the loving tie be twebn. us 'closer - still." - Soii — s - peaks Inez and laying her hands caress ingly on .the shoulders of Pearl seeks to detain her, . "Inez, my daughter," •cries the. Comtese, "Do not ~.attempt•:. to detain her. She.and I ean : .hreathe. the same air no longer," With ; stifled cry the Cpmteso sinks : back: in . her chair, half closing4tpr, eyes. Inez flies to her Mother, teudPr, compassion. Pearl goes froM room, and a little time after froth the house. • It it is midnight. Such a night! The ground frozen hard as iron ' every sound, every movement, reverberat ing with a mental clang through the void stillness. The sky has been showing a brooding, ominous black ness for hours past. If only that threatening snow would begin to fall! Any change must be for the better; any downeoraing, any drops, be they of hail or snow, must bring less.cruel bitterness into that .eutting,. biting air. • Outside the walls of .Paris the brave . - ‘ Garde Nationale " is on the watch: Here, and : there camp-fires are crackling andlilitzfu e ,ff; 'and At tt:icting tts closely as possible to their Welcome warmth' sueh of to men as dare leave their appointed - beat. Those ,soldiers who have been S on outpost duty : for the past twelve hours, keeping incessant and weari some watch, have now .stretched themselves- wearily .• enough - otf." the bosom of mother earth.. She is a cold unnatural mother to-night, and gives but scant welcome to her overwrought children. To.a stranger. there is ,something appalling in the great, bosum . of , iron messengers that, send startling . reminders of their hideous power through the silent night. • But' to' those. watchers Withobt the 'gates,the:l horrid sounds bade becorne familiar: by perpetual repetition; and' Mounts': Valerien and Bicetre may tierntiorth their deadly minute'• inessiages'•ot massacre unheeded. • - ; * * * 4. * * * Neither the .boom -or the guns nor the heavy breathing of his weariedi companions, who - are. asleep in - the; cold, lying without tent: or other shelter, appear to disturb the medita-' tion of a young sentinels, who stead-i ily continues to step ,to. ma fro on his limited beat. ilis- heavy . gra, coat is elaSely buttoned up to the chin, his small kepi is pressed well - down over his forehead,-but his fair, hair, curly in spite of its - close clip, 'pins., peeps out underneath. No head gear could possibly hide or disguise the straight outline of profile, or tlid clear gaze of those blue eyes, which had been to -.that - .yotlng soldier's mother the most welcome and beau tiful sight in the world-,the sight for' Which she is now, longing ,and praying—how i wearily I it was thus .Pearl's !over- had.de termined to "distinguish''' himself, Here, he believed, was a chance of winning, unknown, and' without the influence of high-born 'relations that laurel crown which' he - had resolved to earn, to'take home and In Y at the feet or the proud woman whom he , loved ! To-morrow will be his first chance. To-morrow he goes -into ac,, tion, to-morrow he 'wilt strike :his first blow. ,Fired by Pearl's ambi tious words, find by the answerMg• throb in his own .breast,,he wilt rush into the thick. , battle- r dare greatest danger - joyfully, likely- thus to secure greatest success—anti allfor the sake of,Pearl--=proud Pearl! . Oh! she shall ha.Ve cause' to lie Alia of Net yeti! He holds her plighted word and she with her own sweet liPs rat told him: how she InVed- him—long ago—and she .gave him..her promise, and sealed* it • too with a kiss I —a soft, lingering,: intoxicating,. bewild ering kiss. • . !ir .*. :* Even - now. his heart beats wildrk at the *delicioUs recollection,: and the remembrance sends the .. 7 blOod, , tingling; hotly through every vain. - Present cold, privation, most uncongenial: panion4hip, are all , fOrgoltexi 'for the , tinieTietor In iMagina tion.is 'once again hi that shady tOok behind the great fern screen in the conservatory. - ClOSe to his heart he holds the one Woman he: adores : .be ybnd bet- kind, he feels' her kisses:— whOse 'caprice he. has now proved hlinself willing to' risk hisilery life.. ' And 'fervently he • prays "God' bless'and keep my dar ling. and me tame :home to her vie . • • And in her chamber, far over ,the, sea, his mother on, her Inees is,also praying,.:" God_bless and keep ray darling, and let him come back_ to me soon and safe." : She little guessCS; pOOr !Bother where her curly4mi red iS.at thai momeni; , :less does She. dream or tike spirits of jOkflir entr prise,witti which he', intends to nigh into the heSrt Of battle tci-ingrrow-- riskibo-bi.precions-lilbitoddi-hogor, 1 - 1! , !.1 tr i I*.lf',l • .. , e 7 ;lifi, ; ,„foo ?i:;•1 ME CHAPTER IV.: BEFORE PARI9 Jri 111 t:,: :f NM = =I 'lt , EMEI .e : , ejs if' r. r. r L,.il . ~ ~? `i."~a't i 7 'c ; .I,KLUW=V I P Ormathervto•satlsfptlia:,ombition of the w9IRCP 44, IPYW. irttz vAritz: ;The hbat of the fray is over: !Under ln.urelle des Pa/Wipes an import.. 0 41'4 1 Y - Ifli.xcia4PtctmA,G , Perce: 4o, attack on., the.Prussitins _that it not temporarily Iliseeticerted their leadereWbut spread •alartrf finking the , beleaguering troupe.:, Night is creep iugpn, apparently: to do her gentle share ; ; toward . . shrouding . in darkneas . 'the Worried sights' that gartelfifun'atid' the Pritmly,' glittering . snOw‘have ma& too. awfully appar eutduriug:theTast tea hours ! • ` • 'or th-,-a e,time being _truce is pro-. el a inte:lfter fashion. 'The great iftirtfi h a ve - Peit:ceased s ending out ithelegreetin k' of 'tiestration, nor t is ,therewny •relaxation , in •411,5 pre,para -I,ion.,for. further aids, on thp,morrow. ‘ But that wild combat to which Victor had - looked ' 'forward with Such a spirit' of 'fiat:l%l66 enterprise, has ceased. It has ended with the light of clay, and, how rind a;day has it been for. some ,of the bravest arid he'stil Victor had rushed wildly into Abe Ihickeht . Of `the melee; lie had steeled his heart with the bright thought of Pearl's steady gray eyes„ and wished for nothing so much as the chance of proving himself un ,diunted. - The ' ambitions intention was genuine and grand, but the car rying it out rash and reckless, and its assults by no means such as the young hero had hop ed ' , for—nay, ;reckoned on: In lieu of thelirst step :tovrard promotion, hisPareer has re 'ceived a fatal blow at the very out set ; for he now _lies_ sick to death, 'faint, and almost Unconscious with a deep home-thrust from a vengeful ',sabre in his breast. At last•the "heavy .rumble of the cross-protected .ambulance smites on the ears of the wounded, who lieSo wearily liStening—listening. So they have lain for hours in the enforced lethargy of • agonizing pain numbed, crushed,:unable to move—dying of cold, or maddened to fever, and suf fering from its accompanying parch ing thirst. 'Poor Vietor is beyond the hearing of any- promise of relief, when sud denly there comes :upon him feel ing of a horrible wrench, :is- strong arms lift It;tn. Then he fCels himself cruelty jolted, every bruised 'muscle shaken, every nerve in, his body-ter ribly strained. • Finally he loses con sciousness.as to feeling. lit or well ; in a deathlike trance he lies, oblivious of all snreoundings: Spelt a swoon, wily, is the greatest boon mother na ture can hestowion worn-out suffer ing humanity. , • CHAPTER VI. THE . I,filtD. How 'grateful is the hash", the 'ab solute repose, that comes to • those ' weary soldiers, when at last they rind themselves laid at rest, in the neat beds provided for them by kindly Samaritans in the 'temporary hospit al for the wounded and the, dying. Gentle women watch over the help- less ones with Amremitting patience and ear,; With hushed voice and quiet tread they go from one couch to an other, offering comfort'for the body and 'solace' to - the mind of the wound ed and the dying. - :Victor-lies, at rest in one of the softest beds of the ward, set apart for dangerousLpatients that is, for th ose wb ose. lives are at thestake. And this ward is established within the Precincts 'of an ancient royal' resi dence, and on its floor dainty satin slippers and handsome buckled shoes have danced many u stately minuet. _That -deadly sickness is on poor" Vic tor still, but he is "no longer faint, though he lies' absolutely motionless. Ile now hears and heeds the various sounds about him, even as with weary eyes he notes those who pass to and fro, :and sees vaguely the out lines of - other:suifervs - as they lie stretched on' 'their beds of pain, to the right and left of him, and away aftainst the ftirther windows. Thns Victor • watches lislessly enough,. With half-closed lids, and presently remarks, leaning over. the bed opposite to his, the graceful out ' line of a' woman's form, that in spite of the strange Shaer of Mercy garb ' seems to' him—homelike—familiar. He looks'at the . nurse 'with growing interest. If she would uld but turn her bead. With grow-In . attention he open's his eyes fully ° now. Oh that he. conic] really see that face. Set on such shoulders it surely must be fair Cduld he raise 'his head just a little? ' He tries to do 'so but alai! the mere attempt has made him groan in a midden spaim of 'agony. His cry of pain at oncenttraets the nurse ; she turns swiftly and Tuns to his side. Their eyeS. meet, and into his comes a look Of tenderness and of intense longing as he sees the love of his life Once s atin and whispers." Pearl." But her outstretched hands fall by • her side helpless, as she stifles the shriek that she can scarce repress. What-faint - cbT4 there was in her fair face leaves it now,. and she looks asghaStly.as he who lies before her, her hero, her betrothed, the true love of her proud yiing,heart., Oh! how, low has that pride laid . , , . Withnllthe strength that . is in her, and s ; it grest, she conquers her trenpling, overwhelming agitation, anti sinks quietly oLi to her knees by ,Tieior's side: „She takes his weak ;hand in hers; and devers it with pas sionate kisses; She prays with all fer vor ,to the Vither in . ,.heaven to spare the life of this:bravest and best-loved ,of preatuies:: hen comes -a mid den thought th.at' preinpts' her to (mink setion4 Help, iruniediate belt)! yiotor the best eSre. and in . Stsnt attention.. Good' advice she can procure tor him, arid this shall be done instantly !, " ' So,l ) etirl goes swiftly to seek the doctor in,whom she has most , ,taitli, ,and ,rho has; aiready pros himself a kind, and patient friend to all, who sutler, and to her who tends them. The doctor comes. Ile has seen Vic ..tor before, and knows well that:his is a hopeless case. The kindly doctor FMCetS the eyes of , the young nurse with a wistful sadness that says more , than words.. This nurse has always .shown air earnest. devotion ,to the • I . NM killiOC:l3 - , : We. good - cause, and has been unremitting in her care- and attention to all the sufferers. But now thew is more than ordinary anxiety in the poor girl's manner as she learns the fate of the handsome young soldier lying 814 unto. death Wore her: It Ist ke'en feeling of personal agonY that blanches poor:Pearl's face, and sends that look of desperate entreaty into her eyes. * * * * * * i rte !a • ".Oh!save him, save him, doctor, for his poor mother's sake !" she cries with uplifted hands, while tears' `course freely over, her cheeks. "Is it really too late I" r Cannot you send for her, my poor mother, my dear mother?" asks Victor feebly. There is no answer. And the in valid fully understands the import of this ominous silence. • " Ah 1" fie - pkesently says, with a long•drawn "Then ; it is -too late, all too late;l feel it now. Kiss me, my bea - ful lore. I' wished to live for you, and now I am dying— dying for you !" " Ity , glorious hero!" cries Pearl, the ring of passionate despair tremb ling in ber sweet voice, "de - not say it, do not think it: Live, - Victor! you mud live, you shaitlive, for your mother's sake, for poor Inez, for your own heartbroken, miserable Pearl !" • "Ay, and I will," he cries, and with a superhuman effort raises him self "and lifts 'the arm that is not maimed and puts it Jip to her neck. With a sudden revulsion from agony to hope, she folds him close to 'her warm throbbing bosom, and: kisses his hair, his brow, his lips passion ately,"ag though ,she would till him 'with' the vigorous current of her warm life's blood. I ' • "...My darling," she cries,,'Oh say it again! You will . lire,.iye•tO for give me, to bless your poor mother, live to be mine—mine." " twill live to bless you, my beau tifugPearl, but as to forgiviug you, sweetheart, what can there be-to for give ? I have loved you, I love you . now, and shalland shall--" The words came slowly,. brokenly. His life's blood and breath are both failing him. : • • " - Pearl," heWhispers, "My darling, kiss . me." Then, more 'faintly still, " My proud love—my beautiful love —and shall—forever." hig band holds hers closely; and his head falls heavily on her bosom. Pearl's pride, her hero, and her hope in life—are dead.— Temple Bar. CLASS RELATIONS IN ENGLAND. The relation in which men of nn. equal birth stand to each other wolves a question of taste which is not easily settled. English moralists . have of late cried fie upon toadyism to such an extent -that one is almost asharded to confess acquaintance with a lord. And yet there is no country in the world where a titled name commands such respect as in Eng land. It is easy to explain 'this 'by saying that the; aristocracy of. this Country is not a cheap aristocracy— that it represents an illustrious de scent or an intellectual worth which is deserving of public esteem. But this is not always the case. Even in our own day men have been raised from the ranks with .no such claim. Yet - we know the mere prefix of a "Sir" before a namegoes far to this day at a committee meeting olin ball-room. Whether it be a fault or a virtue this is a national peculiarity. The lines of social demarcation are nowhere more emphatically indicat ed than in our own country. They do—not indeed preclude inter-mar: riages, nor are they attended by the absurdities of :etiquette which the. !Undo() or Bra,hmin faith might im pose, but'theY separate by'a stern law of artificial life, class from class in a manner which is unknown else where in modern. Europe. They are drawn through all g rades of society, from the most elevated coterie down to the humble offices of domestic life.' A French bonne is much more a servant in her dress, and far more humble in her notions than an En glish nursemaid. Yet an English nursemaid would not presume td address her mistress in the familiar language which the French bonne would use toward madame: She could not be trusted with the license; not, heaven knows, because l - the English character has cless,diffi deuce in its composition than the, French, but because she would at .once forget her station. A German gentleman sees nothing infra din. in shaking hands with his tailor, but an Englishmen knows that if he were to admit his trades to the smile privil edge, they would - probably first un dervalue it, and then presume upon it.- It is a painful fact, that if you wish to mainland civility and atten tion in an ordinary London shop where you are not in the habit of dealing, it is necessary to assume an air of calm superiority to the gentle: man across the counter., If you ap. proach him with an humble manner, he will regard you with an eye of suspicion. But, if you are polite, to 1 him,,he will often treat you with ab solute contempt. These are only some familiar illustrations out of many which might be selected to'' show that this superiority 'of piece-, dente of class over class ii not only assumed downward, but -- looked . for upward in _England. It is to be feared that the romantic notions of British freedom formed by Roman .peaSants and Venetian godolieri might find realization in a sort of bondage from whirl' they, would 'gladly escape. What are commonly known as the "lower orders."- here have Ruch more political but far less social liberty than =they enjoy under - the rule of some foreign States. The origin:of this state of things with us may, in .a great measure, be attributed to the gross ignorince "whick.has so long characterized our t English poor. The mental condition 'of a London laborer or small tradesman was not many years ago, &s in .some instances still is, far inferior to the average capacity of: similar classes on the continent. In Germany, where- educa: tion; has long been compulsory and undertaken by the State, the hum hlest errand boy is better informed on most 'Subjects than those who. would'be in the position of his em ployers here.. [...... l k . : : ' 51.5 0: per Annum in' Advance. soul &meth to the dust; quicken thou me, according to Tby Word:. - - )6 soul fut eleavetb to the dust; • My heart withlnis deid andcold; I'm blown about by every gust; No certain anchorage I bold. . I fain would lift mine eyes on high, • . • Net, sly onparged, they cannot me; I feel like ow:, about to die— . :llama mercy, Jean, quicken ma • My Offs Is like the =allied land - -On which noflower Or fruitage grows ; 'Tie like a waste of arid wand,. A wintry lam/Ratio clothed withanOws. All empty are the mulched years . ; - Shah like the pan the future be? 'Galust this I. plead with privers and tam, Have mercy, Jest', quieten rue - My life is like to plants that creep, Like plants that droop end touch the ground! Wo seed I sow, no harvest reap, All barren as the months go round: . • 'uproot me then, and plant again; I would be fruitful unto Thee ; • ; • Prune, cleattle Me, Lord, 411 scorn the pain; nave mercy, Jesu, quicken me i. . The defenders of an old law usual: ly urge as the first reason againstits abolition, its antiquity. The mass of mankind resist change. The spir it .of progress carries them along in spite of themselves. A few daring spirits lead ahead, the mass hold back. "Thus did our fathers," they say. Since they were satiafied,-why should ..riot we be ? An old [custom, like a venerable heir-loom, fit only to be put away in the garret, is obsti nately retained by a people; kept, as it •were, right in the way, in the kitchen of their life. They at first look upon every new, project as dangerous; every new invention ss _a, . failure; every honest doubter as an infidel ; every new idea as a dream ; and every fearless denouncer of old insti tutions as a, scoundrel and a.derna iogue.- Neiertheless, history shows that the antiquity of a custom and the age of doctrines are , not absolute proofs of their efficacy and truth. It has been a universal custom over the world untira few years ago; for peo ple to travel by horseback or in vehicle; yet it is &loin since the ap plication of steam to carriages, that there ban better way. Slavery has been, from all 'time, among all na tions, until within a century, consid ered a just, nay, even divine, institu tion ; and is yet, in the greater por tion of the earth's territory, allowed and justified. Yet we do noVliesitate, in the light of 'only a few yeari, to denounce this institution; though sanctioned by the' practice of all nations since the dawn of the world, and tolerated by the sacred writings of all peoples, to be. an infamous li bel on the name of justice itself. The antiquity ,of a doctrine, we might almost exclaim, after reading the history of all doctrines, is an evi dence of its infirmity rather than of its truth; I speak not now of abso- lute facts and - mathematical princi ples nor the underlying principles of right and wrong, which are eternal., But customs and usiges, theories, be lids and religions, are as perishable as the nations who hold them. The law of the universe is change. Dif ferent generations must necessarily hold different views-from those who preceded them. The Aristotelips. and 'Ptolemaic systems of philosophy have passed away. There.is no now a system of religion on the earth „that existed two thousand years ago. There is not a denomination to-day that holds entirely to the same tenets it did twohtindred years ago. There is not a religious or, political dogma to-day that two hundred years hence will hate any claims to public belief or confidence. Because our Puritan ancestors burned old women at - the stake, it will not justify us in setting up the stake again.; nor because a savage tribe of Asia three thousand years ago refused to eat pork, are we _ in any respect bound to"shun it to day. The, authority and binding force of a custom cannot then be de duced from its antiquity, but from its adaptation to the- needs of the present. The 8:11311C reasoning-applies to capital punishment. If the wants of the age demand it,-and-it can be shown to produce its intended results for the good of society, we want it; but the antiquity of death penalties as alone no reason for their preserva tion. It is also a mistaken notion of many good persons that punishment by death is a kind of expiation for the shedding of innocent blood, to society in general, and - to-the friends and relatives of the murddred man in particular. To kill one man to satis fy the death of another, is acting on the principle of , retaliation. -This, (considered as a retaliatory measure), can be of no possible-advantage to society at large. To deliberately de priVe itself of one -of its members, because another has been- destroyed, is doubling its own loss. What satis faction to the friends and relatives of the murdered man would this retalia tion be ? Can . the death of the wretch bring back to life his unfor. innate victim ? Will depriving some body else of a parent, a brother, or a son, bring back to health and beau. ty the, loved form of your own lost one ?' That crime is done. No att of:the law, no prayers, no, tears, no punishments can undo it.- To punish this crime by visiting the same act on the offender with the idea of re taliation. or expiation, is to imitate the practices - of - savages; to act on the principle of - vengeance. In case of murder, to take the life lot the murderer as a retaliation, is clearly acting in the spirit of vengeance, and black, diabolical - vengeance, which is itself a most dangerous crime against all order and _religion. This is no satisfaction warranted by law or re ligion. Money would indeed be some sort of consideration to _the friends and relatives of a murdered man. But if money t i re allowed as a commutation for mu er, as in civil injuries, the safety of Society in gen eral would be "placed ,second to the interest of slew prite by t,imaktig tlfeoffend -loose again to renew his outrages4Punishments, it is admitted by all w , ho have studied the nature of punishments, are never justifiable as, a satisfietion for past offenses. -This principle was recog nized more than one hundred . years ago by Blackstone, who says as fol low*: "Punishment is not by way of NUMBER 41. Buzaix aenserxosa iss.c.urox BLEU D. D. [comatusidATED.] CAPITAL PITHISMffT. ittatEinitt;orexptatioulbribr. . committed, for tbatmust Ixdeft to the determination of the SapreamoSebis but sa-s precaution ag. sins' Clause. - offenses, of the .'Same kind."; This' punishment, then—being not - Makin- - cept a preeautiott 'against the -repeti tion of, offenses- .the great ComMen tator continues; must be by one - or moie'orthese three means, viz: 1. The refcirmation of the offender; as, temporary imiirisonment, ' 2. The - dread and terror caused by such punishment, as a !imams of de- • terring others froth cOmmitting such offenses;- public punishments, &e; 3. Depriving the party injuring of' the power to do further injury; as, by death,perpetualimprisonment - , &e. With regard to the-first method of punishment, it is now. universally conceded that, while the protection -of society is the end of , punishment, at the same time the reforination of - the offender should- always be had view. Any punishinent which, does nothave this in view is not, properly, a punishment,.but cruelty. And it must also beat once conceded that_ -killing the offender cannot possibly - have his reformation in view. True,. by the logic of our* religious friends - of the old school,we are told a good deal about the opportunities of the criminal for repentance after convic tion ; how, by a profession . of faith at the foot of the gallows, the heaped-up blackness of. - a life of wickedness is all wiped out, washed clean, though his unfortunate victim is at that mo ment suffering the _pains of eternal torment. Repentance and remorse are good. I would not speak lightly of any - miserable sinner's remorse. Remorse is the path. of 'salvation. • But for the 'opinions of those persons who would sentence a fellow creature to death, and offer as any sort of -de fence for this proceeding the means • of repentance they place before him to escape-the consequences of his own villainies, it is impossible tolhaVe any other feeling than contempt. On this. principle they ought to condemn ev ery unconverted man to death, that the thought of his - approaching fate might lead him to repentance. Queer logic—that a man is ready for hear- - ten who is not fit to live on earth ;. to ask God to forgive a man whose life you are. about to take. Besides, if the murderer really repents, is made pure and righteous, fit for heaven, why kill' him at all ? The object is.: accomplished ; he is reformed, and would make a good citizen here. Thebreaking of man's neck as a means of his — reformation however demonstrable by theologic al sophis try. is ' nevertheless, too palpably • ridiculous to deserve any serious consideration whatever as an argu ment. 'lt is never advanced but as an "ultiraaratio," an apology for cap ital punishment when all other argue ments have, failed. If capital punish- . meet cannot -possibly have the,refor mathm of the criminal in view, then; . by the modern. definition of punish ment, it is a cruelty, and no excuse can be offered for it except that it is a necessary cruelty. 'lt remains to be considered whether the death pen- - alty is necessary (1) as a means of terror to deter others, and (2) to de prive the - offender of'the power to do further harm, • - ' E. S. [TO BE CONTINBED.] A OtiNNEOTIOUT SNAKE STORY Seven •pr eight years ago much _ alarm was caused along the line of the Housatonic Railroad in the north western part of Litchfield county, Conn., by the alleged appearance Of, • a great snake. The reptile, as the story went, seemed to make its home in a denge swamp near the "railload track. It had been seen by - different persons ; who' were terror-stricken'by its wonderful size: Time and !again the snake was shot at, by hunting -parties, but it always managed to get away safely. Two men went into the swamp last Saturday to get a, load of wood. They came to a large . button-wood tree which had fallen to \ the ground. Finding that it was hollow, and in order to handle it _easily, they applied a woodman's saw ,to it. They had sawed almost through one part of it, when the saw grated as though it had struck a stone. Taking their axes they spilt the trunk, when, to their astonishment, the obstacle which the saw had struck proved to be they bones. Then .they opened the tree, as far as they could -find bones, tbe.distance being twenty one: feet. The bones prove to be those of the reptile no often seen. .The largest bones measured six Inches_ in diameter, and from that tapered down to smallensizes. The tail of the snake was, found embedded. in the upper part of the tree. There is no doubt that this tree had been the snake's winter trine 'for many' years, and in it be died. The bones and other-re mains have been preserved and will be sent to ti scientific society. e, The New York Legislature is mov ing towards a reduction of the regal rate of interest in I that State from seven to. six .per cent., a bill to that effect having beenlordered to to_ reading in the Senate. The Leaisla tnre is not yet - prepared to abolish the usury laws leaving the rate of interest to be determined by the lend ceaud borrower, but a rate to be charged when none/ is agreed upon. With the usury laws in force the borrower has to 'Ay an extra rate covering the risk of loss whenever the mat:ket. value of- money happens to be greater than the legal rate, but, nevertheless, usury laws are passed . and maintained on the statute books ostensibly in .his interest. They all belongin the category of relics of a past age. They are powerless to pro. tect the borrower, and only add to the "dead - letter" laws, a thing always to be dep l reeated as encourag ing .the habit of disregarding other and .good laws. . Tux cunning crab of the se.iihme ways comes after the under-toe. FIE sued her for her hand before mar-, riage, analier hand sewed for him after. Journal. - .• To remove paint from the wall—back up against it before it gets-dry.—Brifts port standard. -Iv Americans should go to Peek's( Chi naywhy should John Chinaman not come to peek in America!_—Baton Transcript. Winou is oddest, the man rho asks a question or the man who answers? Thof man viho asks, because he is the. querist. Is Congress should remove theism on =Whim, it won't cost as much to get married, will it?—Cincinnati - Commercial. "Nu of which I saw," said the big steam-driven "Circular" to the piln - of: lumber. "Part of which I lilts," replied. tbe.scantling. Wu never saw a_phraso being soyanid ly run into the ground by the newspapers as "never, hardly ever . " That is, hard ly ever. —Norristote n Herald. Accrtumr-insurance companies • hail) put kings and emperpts down in tho fourth-elaas of 481% along with engineers, brakemen; firemen,` - Xnd - book-agents., GLAD:crows has been presented with.a Over hatchet. This pioneer him under n awkward responsibility for the future. Re cannot tell a lie.—Harsard Lampoon.