2 CLARA'S LOVER: OR Where There's a Will There's a Way. A ND so he's coming to-night, Misa Xjl Clara ?" Lyman I'ahner asked, standing, just at sunset, in the porch of Mr. Townley's fine, broad-fronted resi dence in L . Clara Townley stood beside him and a very tearful look stole into her deep-blue eyes as she answered the question. " Yes, Lyman. Papa received his note this morning, saying that he would surely be here in the eight o'clock train." " Your father is as determined as ever, I suppose, about this affair of of the marriage ?" Lyman Palmer's look was averted from Clara while ho pronounced the words. One of his white, slender hands played rather nervously with a seal ring on the finger of the other. They were both delicate enough, both iu shape and hue, those hands of Lyman Palmer's, to have belonged to a woman ; his face, also, devoid of beard tr mus tache, and glowing with the fullness of healthful beauty, entirely lacked (he was only twenty-two) the clement of manli ness. It was a face that Lyman Palmer's enemies had he really posscssod any would have been very likely to call iiisyp id and girlish. But they could not trufti fully have said the same of the man him self, lie was every inch what his youth ful appearance failed to show a high bred, honorable, courageous gentleman. " Determined !" Clara Townley ex claimed, in answer to her lover's last re mark. " Why, papa is so bent upon my becoming Mrs. Livcrmore that he would die of rage, I think, were my resolution known to him. ' ,; And that resolution is, Clara " " To give Mr. Livermore plainly to un derstand that the times we live in are not those which tolerate the aflianciug of two children in their cradles, merely because their parents happen to be friends. And then this creature, Richard Livermore, is a perfect fiend of homeliness, if you will pardon my intense stylo of rhetoric, Lyman. The photograph which he sent me, through papa, is just about the most frightful thing I ever beheld, lie has passed his whole life, you know, in some obscure place out West all places out West are obscure, in my opinion and, to all appearances, he has the manners of a regular clod. lie actually had the im pudence to speak of me, in his last letter to papa, as the ' sweet Clara whom he longed so passionately to behold,' and whom ho fondly believed to be ' a picture of womanly grace and loveliness. I've never told you this before, Lyman, for fear of making you ungovernably augry at your unseen rival." " We ought not to be called rivals," Lyman Palmer answered, in a voice iu which there was much more despondency than anger " his chances are so far above mine." " Nonsense, Lyman." " How ' nonsense,' Clara ?" " Do you believe in proverbs ?" "Why do youosk ?" "Because I do." Clara Townley's face wore a look of very firm determination as she spoke. " To what particular proverb do you have reference just now ?" Lyman asked. " To one which says, 1 Where there's a will there's a way.' I think that adage .1 remarkable true one. And I think, Lyman, that you and I may test its truth if we are so inclined." " You don't mean by an elopement, Clara, do you ? Often and often have I pleaded " "And often and often have I refused," was the prompt interruption. " Of course, 1 won't elope with you, Lvman. I don't consider elopements respectable. I shall never marry you it 1 have to do it so there now!" And she looked quite serious enough to keep the resolution if called upon to do so. " You mean, then, Clara, by coming the mighty eloquent over your papa?" Lyman questioned. " And get poo-poohed for our pains," said Clara, with a slight laugh. " No, Lyman, I mean something else. Papa is still asleep, and likely to remain so lor an hour. Besides, he is too feeble to leave his room this evening. Let us take a troll through the garden, and, while we stroll. I shall disburden uiyselt ot a weighty secret." " Is Mr. Townley at homo 1" Richard Livermore asked the above juestion of Mr. Townley's servant, and, receiving an affirmative reply, was shown j?ko a small sitting-room on the ground floor of the houso. While the man is seated, awaiting the appearance of his host, we have time to observe that his face and figure are scarce ly the face and figure of a gentleman. " The obscure place out west" has evi dently left its impress upon the general bearing of Mr. Kichard Livermore. Presently the door of the sitting-room opened and a servant Clara Townley's private maid, as it happened entered the room. " Mr. John Townley has been unwell for several days, sir, and as he has lately fallen into a doze, his daughter, Miss Clara, docs not consider it advisable to awake him. But Miss Clara will be very happy to see Mr. Livermore herself pro vided he wishes it." " Of course of course by all means certainly," stammered Livermore, to whom the immediate prospect of behold ing his fiance was thoroughly overwhelm ing. " I shall be most happy to see Miss Clara Townley. Be good enough, won't you to tell her so?" He was gratified not long afterward, by the appearance of a tall young lady (who struck him, the more he looked upon her, as a very unnaturally and disagreeably tall young lady) attired in a rather short, ill-fitting dress, and wearing upon a coun tenance full of " broad-blown comeliness, red and white," about the most thorough from ear-to-ear sort of a smile that Mr. Richard Livermore ever remembered hav ing seen. " How d'ye do?" said the gigantic vir gin, accompanying her salutation with a rather vacant, sounding laugh. Hope you're well. You're Mr. Livermore, of course? Well, Livermore, I don't like your looks a bit. How do you like mine 1" " I I think there must be some mis take," murmured Livermore in amaze ment. " I I understand that Miss Clara Townley was to " " Well, I am Miss Clara Townley. " Impossible !" "You're complimentary, I'm sure! But perhaps you mean that I disappoint you agreeably, 31 r. Livermore. I hope I don't. I dare say you're a good enough kind of a fellow, but then you're not the iellow tor mo. Saw that the instant I clapped my eyes on you, Livermore, if you 11 pardon such a vulgar expression- 1 in the sort of a girl that likes plucky sporting-men with lots of 'go' in them, and a general air of being ' up to snuff.' Now, you re not that sort of a chap, Liv ermore, as 1 told at a glance. " No !" exclaimed poor Livermore, who had grown pale by this time, aud with something which was not embarrassment " no, Miss Clara, I decidedly am not the type of manhood which you seem to admire. Is is your father in ? I I mean can I see him for a few moments ?" " Our girl told you he was asleep, did she not : was the young lady s indiffer ent answer, searcning lor something, as she spoke, in the pocket of her dress. " Besides, Livermore, as you ve come to stay several days, and have brought your portmanteau there, for that purpose. any time will do, 1 suppose, at which to hold confab with pa." Mr. Livermore seemed to be regaining 1 IP ... o. . ins sen-possession. oinco i cannot see your father, Miss Townley," ho said stiff ening visibly in manner, "it is better that 1 should at once take my departure. " And why so, Liv ?" " Lh !" Could Hichard Livermore be- lievo his own ears ? Was this vixenish. hoydenish, over-grown female the Clara lownley whom he had worshiped in his dreams as his future wife ? Had her father been mad, to write as he had con cerning her ? He would rather die the man was already telling himself than be come the husband of so hideously ogreish a creature. " I have no reason to give for leaving so abruptly," he now said in sharp, cold tones, Miss Townley made some odd sound be tween a giggle and a chuckle. " You do not like me: confess you don't," she cried and taking the unsuspecting Livermore thoroughly by surprise, she performed the action popularly known ns "a poke in the liua. " Miss Townley," gasped the unlucky gentleman, maltreated, " do you intend insulting me ?" " Pshaw ! not a bit of it. Only in fun. Have a cigar, won't yon ?" " Heavens I" exclaimed the bewilder ed Livermore, holding up both hands and stumbling backwards in his astonish ment, " you can't possibly mean that you smoke V " Certainly I do," was the reply, of Miss Townley, biting the end off a very nice-looking figaro as she spoke. Mr. Livermore once again, and as if by a masterly effort, regained his self-control. Walking deliberately toward his portman teau, he picked up the article, and having bowed to his hostess was about quitting the apartment when Miss Townley ex claimed : " I hope I havn't offended you. Pa'll be dreadfully mad when he hears you've gone in this stylo. He'll bo sure to blame me, too. I wish you'd leave a little note explaining that you go ofof your own free will, as it were. i ou don t mind doing this, do you ?" fehe looked at him with what was evi dently intended for a winning smile, but poor Livcrmore thought it only a repul sive leer. I shall be very willing, Miss Townley," he said, " to leave a note for your father, thoroughly vindicating you in the matter of my departure. What is it that you desire me to write ? taking a card-case and a pencil from one of his pockets. " Only that you don t want to marry me that you don't thiuk we shall suit each other, and all that. Please bo good enough not to say anything about the smokiug, because pa don't know that I smoke, and " But Livermore without waiting for fur ther instructions, began rapidly writing on ouo of the cards which he had select ed from his case. When ho had fiuislicd he turned toward Miss Townley with these words : " The following is my messago to your father : "Sir I desire to have the agreement broken concerning my future marriage witli your daugh- tcr. I have held an interview with her and con fess to being wholly unwilling that sucli a lady shall become iny wife. Uicuauu Livekmoue.'" That's precisely it !" boisterously cx claimed Miss Townley, when her compan ion had handed her the card. " Old fel low," suddenly slapping Livermore on the back, familiarly " old fellow you ve got a handsome streak in you, for all we don't like each other. Better try a cigar before you go. But Livermore rushed from the apart ment as though willing to remain not an other instant longer in the society of so out-and-out a monstrosity of womanhood. And shortly afterward the hall door closed upon his retreating figure. " Lyman, you have certainly been mak ing the most utterly revolting creature of yourself that it is possible to conceive of 1 have been listening iu the dining room, yonder, to every word you said." And the real Clara lownley having just en tered the room by a different door from that by which poor Livermore had made his exit, surveyed hci disguised love with laughing eyes. " There is my chief trophy," exclaim cd Lyman, waving above his head the card which contained Livermore's ines sage to Clara's father. " la hock ijno vi'nccs. your father will ot course consent to our marriage, now Clara : for he will become alarmed lest you lack the power to attract a husband to your side, on reading this stinging criticism from Livermore, and gratefully accept tho next chauce that offers itself. Whether Mr. John Townley indulged in any such train of reasoning us the above, it would be difficult to say. But two facts are certain, viz : His deep in aignation on reading Jivermore s mes sage, and his ultimate consent to Clara's marriage with Lyman Palmer, the man of her choice, bo much tor the clever dis- enchantment and the verification of Miss Clara Townley's favorite maxim 'Where there s a will there s a way. A Misunderstanding. Mr. Pilkinson, a farmer in Pennsylva nia, was dratted tor the service ot his country. His wife, though she possesses but a small stock ot general information is one of tho best conjugal partners, and she was much troubled at tho thought of parting with her husband. As she was engaged in scrubbing off tho door-step, a rough-looking stranger came up and thus addressed her : " I hear, madam, that your husband has been drafted. " Yes, sir, he has," answered Mrs. Pil kinson, " though, dear knows, there's few that couldn't better bo spared from their families." " Well, madam, I have come to offer myself as a substitute for him." " A what 1" asked Mrs. Pilkiuson,with some excitement. " i am wining to tato ms place, said the stranger. " You take the place of my husband you wretch I 1 11 teach you to insult i distressed woman, in that way, you vaga bond 1" cried Mrs. Pilkinson, as she dig- charged the dirty soap-suds in the face of the disoomhtted and astonished substitute, who took to his heels just in timo to save having his head broken by the bucket. AStory of Circumstantial Evidence. THE CONVICTION OF GEORGE Vanderpool recalls to our recollec tion a circumstance which illustrates the unreliability of circumstantial evidence. During the last century, in England, a man was hanged for murdering his ward a niece. The evidence was conclusive that he had chastised her frequently, and only the day before her disappearance he was heard correcting her in an out-build- ing, and her voice was also heard pitcous ly exclaiming, " Don't kill mc, uncle don't kill mo I" The motive for the murder was proven in the fact that according to her fathers will on her death, her prop erty was to go to the guardian, her uucle. lhree or tour years after the assumed murder, the niece returned and claimed her property. It oppeared that she had run away and married, and came back to demand her property on reaching her majority. Parliament then interferred with a statute requiring the production of the body to authorize the seutenco of death. I his is now the general rule in our criminal proceedings, but has not always been adhered to. And it was not in the case we are about to narrate. In 1840, when the State House at Springfield, 111., was being built, one of the stone-cutters engaged was a man named Martin from New York city. Martin was not of sound mind ; at least he was a monomaniac on one subject, which was that there was no good money except that of the old Metropolitan Bank New York. Every Saturday night, when tho men were paid on, he was wont to go around among them and buy up this money, often giving as high as 10 per cent, for it. Ho was known to have a considerable sum of this money hid away or about him. During May, of th9 year above, he and one Smith hired a horse and wagon to co to tho Sangamon river, four miles distant. At night Smith returned, but not with Martin. When asked where Martin was, he said he did not know. Martin was soon missed the ground where they went was searched and the plainest evidence was presented that they had quarrelled, lhe ground was tram pled on the river bank,and some of Mar tin's clothes were found. It was also dis covered that some drops of blood were dried on tho sand, and that tho buggy had been drawn into the water. The supposition was that Martin had been murdered and his body carried into tho river. Search was made for days but no body could be found. Meantime Smith, the assumed murderer, was arrested and put in tho old log jail. In a tew weeks the prisoner was regu larly arraigned in the Circuit Court on the charge of murder. Abraham Lincoln then rising into lame as a lawyer, was engaged for the defense. The produc- duction ot the body was not insisted upon the evidenco seemed as clear and conclu sive as though a dozen persons had seen the act ot murder. 1 he witnesses were few, yet tho evidence that there was both the motive and the means was overwhelm ing. Tho marks of the struggle on the river shore the drops of dried blood on the sand tho driving of the wagon into the river, as if to throw the body into the swift current were circumstances that only could be accounted for in con nection with the " deep damnation" of the taking off of poor Martin. Tho de fense could hardly make a show of evi dence, and the verdict of guilty seemed a foregone conclusion. Meantime the Sheriff of Tazewell coun ty had read in tho Sangamon Journal a description of Martin's person, and heard that an insane man had appeared in distant part of the country, without coat or hat, and who could give no intelligent account of himself. An inspiration prompted the Sheriff to go and see him, and ho became satisfied that he was the missing man. Having in his possession still a considerable amount ot Metropoli- tan Bank money made the Sheriff morally sure on the point, so he took the man in charge and started with him for Spring field. Arriving the last day of tho trial he lodged the man in jail, and went into the oourt room and saw Mr. Lincoln. Mr, Lincoln asked a suspension of proceed ings, as he had an important witness to introduce. With the aberitt he went to the old jail, saw the prisoner, and was satisfied that the dead was alive, lie turning to oourt, Mr. Linooln said he could not look for anything but a verdict against his cliont,as thojoase stood but he asked permission to put a new and very material witness on the stand. The murdered man was placed upon the stand, and the ease fell to the ground in a moment. Jackson, Mich., LUizen. The Best Walk on Record. IN 1772, Thomas Penn contracted with Tedyuscung and some others for a ti tle to all the land in Pennsylvania to bo taken off by a parallel latitude from any point as far as the bet ot three men could walk in a day, between sunrise and sunset, from a certain chestnut tree, at or near Bristol, in a northwest direction. Care was taken to select the most capablo for such a walk. The choice fell on Jas. Yates, a native of Bucks county, a tall, slim man, of much agility and speed of foot; Solomon Jennings, a lankee, re markably stout and strong ; Edward Mar shall, a native of Bucks county, a noted hunter, chain carrier, &c, a large, heavy set and strong-boned man. The day one of the longc.tt in tho year was appointed and the champions notified, lhe people collected at what they thought the first twenty miles of the Durham road, to see them pass. First came Yates stepping as light as a feather, accompanied by T. Penn and at tendants on horseback. After him, but out of sight, came Jennings with a strong heavy step ; and not far behind, Edward Marshall, apparently careless, swinging a hatchet in his hand, and eating a dry biscuit. Bets ran in favor of Yates. Marshall took biscuit to support his stom ach, and carried a hatchet to swing in his arms alternately, that the action in his arms should balance that of Jis legs, as he was fully determ'ned to beat the oth ers, or die in the attempt. He said he first saw Yates in descending Durham creek, and gained on him. There he saw Yates sitting on a log very tired; pres ently he fell off and gave up the walk. Marshall kept on, and before ho reach ed the Lehigh, overtook and passed Jen nings waded the river at Bethlehem hurried on faster and faster by where Nazareth stands, to the Wind Gap. That was as far as the path had been marked for them to walk on, and there was a collec tion of people waiting to see if any of tho three would reach it by sunset. He only halted for the surveyor to givo him a pock et compass, and started again. Three In dian runners were sent after him to see if he walked it fair, and how far he went, lie then passed to tho right of Pocono Mouutain, the Indians finding it difficult to keep in sight, till ho reached Still Wa ter ; . and ho would have gone a few miles further but for the water. There he marked a tree, witnessed by tho three Indians. Tho distance he walked be tween sun and sun not being on a straight line, and about thirty miles of it through the woods, was estimated to bo from one hundred and ten to one hun dred and twenty miles. lie thus won the great prize, which was five hundred pounds in money and five hundred acres of land anywhere in the purchase. " James Yates, who led the way fr the first thirty miles or more, was quite blind when taken out of Durham creekv and lived but three days afterward. Sol omon Jennings survived but a few years. Edward Marshall lived and died on Mar shall's Island in the Delaware river. Ho arrived at about 90 years of age. Ho was a great hunter, and it is said he dis covered a rich mine of silver which ren dered him and his connections affluent ; but he never disclosed where it was, and it oontinuos unknown to this day. "When did you Shave." IN ONE of the towns of Arkansas, a man had been drinking until a late hour at night. When he started for home, honest folks were in bod, and tho houses were all shut and dark. The liquor he had taken was to much for him and he dtd not kdow were to go. He at last staggered into an empty wagon-shed aud fell upon the ground. For a long time he lay in the unconsciousness of a drunken sleep, and would have frozen (for the snow on the ground showed the night to be very cold) had not others less insen sible than himself been around him. This shed was a favorite rendezvous of the hogs, that rushed out when the new oomer arrived, but soon returned to their bed. In the utmost kindness, and with the truest hospitality, they gave their biped companion tho middle of the bed some lying on either side of him, and an swering the place of a quilt. Their warmth preveuted him from being injured by the exposure. Toward morning he awoke. Finding himself comfortable and in blissful ignorance of his whereabouts he supposed himself enjoying the accom modations of a tavern, in company with other gentlomau He reached out his hand, catching hold of the bristles of a hog, exol aimed: " Why, JUiter, when did you ihave last?"
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