The Bloomfield times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, November 28, 1871, Image 1

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

    m
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY NEWSPAPER.
Vol. "V. Noav Bloomficld, I'n., TiicHtljiy, TYo vomler 28, 1871.. TVo. 48.
7 VublUhed Weekly,
At New IlloomfleM, Tenn'tt.
FRANK MOItTIMEIt.
8U118CHIFTION TEKM8.
75 CentH ford Months; 40 Cents
for 3 Month,
IN ADVANCE.
LINES TO KATE.
There's aomellilng In the numc of Kate
Which ninny will condemn i
But listen now while I rein to
The traits of some of them.
There's ndvo-Kntc, a charming filled,
Could you her band obtain,
She'll lead you in the path of bliss,
Nor plead your cause in vain.
There's dcli-Kato,a modest dame,
And worthy of your lovej
Bile's nice and beautiful in frame,
As gentle as a dove.
Communl-Kato's intelligent,
As wo may well suppose (
Her fruitful mind is ever bent
On telling whut sho knows.
There's Intrl-Knte, she's so obscure,
'Tin hard to find her out
For she is often very sure
To put your wits to rout.
Frevarlcatv's a Btubuorn maid,
She's sure to have her way ;
The caviling, contrary Jade
Objects to all you say.
There's altcr-Kate, a perfect pest, ,
Much given to dispute;
Her praying tongue can never rest,
You cannot her refute.
There's dlslo-Katc, quite in a fret,
Who falls to gain her point j
Her case is quite unfortunate,
And sorely out of Joint.
Equlvo-Kate no one will won,
The thlug would bo absurd (
8he Is too fuithlcss and uutruu,
You eannot take her word.
There's vlndl-Knte she's good and true,
And strives with all her might
Her duty faithfully to do,
And buttles for the right,
There's rnsti-Kute, a country lass,
Quite fond of rural scenes j
She likes to ramble through the grass,
And through the evergreens.
Of all the maidens you can find,
There's none like edu-Kate j
Because she elevates tho uilnd,
And alms for something great.
BIS SEARCH FOE A WIFE,
AND
now m: i'ouisi in:it:
IT was past midnight. The lanterns on
Blackfriar's bridge shone dimly on the
few pedestiians who are still out of doors
at thin unseasonable time. A young man
was coming hurriedly from the city, while
from the opposite.side no old man was steal
ing slowly along. They had not yet met,
when the latter turned, and was walking
to the parapet of the bridge, making unmis
takable preparation to precipitate himself
into the Thames. The young man who had
followed him drew him back.
" I think, sir, you wish to drowu your
self!" " You think right, sir, but what business
is that of yours?" '
' None in the least, sir ; but I only wish
ed of you tho favor to postpone your pur
pom a few moments, Hid allow me to join
you. Let us embrace each othor, and make
the airy leap together. The idea of under
taking this expedition in the company of a
perfect stranger, who has come here with the
same purpose as myself, appeared so pi
quant to me that I could not help asking
you to allow mo to Join you. Really, sir,
nothing has seemed so delightful to me for
a long timo ; and I should never have be
lieved that anything so agreeable could
have happened to me in my dying hour.
Do accept, sir. I have not asked a favor
for yeais of anybody., Bo please do not re
fuse my last and ouly request. I also do
not recollect of ever having made such a
long speech as this one."
With these words he offered his hand to
the old man, -who did not hesitate to clasp
it, and the young man continued with en
thusiasm : V . . '
" Let us clasp each othor closely, arm in
aim, and then forward. It doea me good
to rest a few moments on the bosom of
human being I do not ask whether you
nro a villain or not. Come I"
Tho other, who had been at first in such
hasto to make the acquaintance of the cold
water of the TliamcR, hesitated now, and
restrained the impetuosity of his young
companion by holding Ihh hand and draw
ing him back.
"Hold, sir," said ho whilo ho tried to
distinguish tho features of tho young man
opposito him by tho dim, midnight light.
." You are still very young,and already wish
to renounce life. I am afraid you are too
rash. For a man of your age, life must
still have joys and pleasures."
" Nothing but deceit and falsehood, sel
fishness and conceit, vice and crime. Come
let uh end this."
" Young as you arc, you scorn to have al
ready had sad experiences and appear to
regard all creatures bearing the form of
man as vipers."
"Vipers are noblo beings compared with
men, for they only follow their natural in
stincts ; they are no hypocrites with virtue
on their tongues and vice in their hearts."
" I pity you, for, believe mo, thoro are
many lxmorablo exceptions to the rule
which you have established."
" Ha t ha 1 Exceptions I" laughed tho
young man, suecriugly and bitterly, "I
have found none."
"Then I can give you at least tho poor
consolation that in this solemn hour you
have found one. Much as men are given
to lying, there are very few who will do
so in their dying hour, when they arc about
to enter tho mysterious Eternity. I have
never lied during my life, and would under
no circumstances, entor tho Valley of Death
with a lie upon my lips. You will believe
me, then, when I tell you that I am no
villain, ns you appear to think, but a good
and honest man."
"Really? That Is interesting. I must,
have, therefore met the only honest man
whom I have over seen, just in timo to bid,
in his company, adieu to the world."
' Let mo go alone, and you remain.
There exist many more just as good and
honest men, who can beautify your life.
If you will only seek, you are bound to
find them."
: " Well, at any rate I have found one.
But if lifo presents itself to you in such a
paradise like view, why do you wish to
leave it, like me ?"
" Because I am poor and old, and at the
same time a sick and feeble man, who can
not earn anything, and who cannot bear
any longer to see his own child, an angel
in a daughter, toil almost to death day and
night, to support a miserablo and useless
person yes, even to procure me some lit-
tlo pleasure. ' No, sir, I would bo a brute
a barbarian, were I to exact it any longer."
" What, sir," cried the others, as if
frightened, "you have a daughter who
sacrifices herself for you ?"
" Oh, with what patience and gentleness,
with whut perseverance and love does she
do it. I see her fade away undor her work
and deprivation, and yet no complaint ever
escapes her lips. She works and starves,
and lias always a loving word, a cheering
smile for mo."
"And you want to drown yourself. Are
you mad?" '
" Can I allow that angel to kill herself
by degrees ? That is what lacerates my
heart," wept and sobbed the old man. '
"Sir, you must drink a bottle of wine
with me at tho restaurant there, and relato
to me your story. If you like, I will return
the compliment, and tell you mine. 110
fore hand, however, I will say that you
need not jump down there, for I am a rich,
a very rich man ; and if your story proves
true, what you have confided to me, there
wilt be no need of your daughter working
any more, nor will either of you have to
suffer hunger."
The weeping old man allowed himself to
be led away. They entered the bar-room.
Boon they were sitting comfortably at a to
hie over a bottle of wine, and regarding
each othor curiously by the aid of tho
bright light.
" My story is soon told," commenced tho
elder of the two, in a firm tone. " I am a
merchant, but fortune has not smiled upon
me ; I bad no money of my own, and hod
loved and married a poor but lovely girl.
For these reasons I nevea, was able to es
tablish mmyself on my own footing, but
was obliged to serve other mercantile
houses, as clerk or book-koejior, till they
could not make any further use of me, or
rather would not do so, and preferred the
services of younger men to mine. Hut if
my means were limited, the happiness of
home was not. My wife was an angel ef
goodness, love and gentleness, pious and.
true, industrious and intelligent, and she
has educated her daughter to bo like her.
But sickness and age have reduced me to
abject povorty, and my conscience will not
permit that tho best of children shall con
tinue to sacriflco herself to me. It is not
Impossible! that my life would have lasted
much longer, and God will surely pardon
mo when Idcpiivo myself of a few dozen
days or weeks of it to save thereby tho
health and life of my Lena."
"Old man, you are a happy being," cried
the younger ono ; " I have never met a
a happier ono. What you call misfortune
is nothing but a mere bagatelle. That is
now and forever done away with. I will
make my will to-morrow, in which I shall
constitute you my heir, and will postpone
for a day my leap into the Thames. But,
first, I wish to make the acquaintance of
your Lena, that I may behold a person be
fore my death who really deserves to bo
called a human being."
" But, sir, you aro still, so young, and
yet so unhappy what is tho causo of it?"
cried the old man in a pitiful voice.
" I think tho money of iny father. I am
the only son of one of tho wealthiest bank
ers in London, and like you, am also a mer
chant. If I tell you my name, which you
havo no doubt often heard, it will convinco
you that I am telling the truth. My father
died fivo years ago, and I inherited his co
lossal fortune. From that moment all men
with whom I havo came in contact havo
cither lied, cheated, or deceived me. I was
like an innocent child in my belief and con
fidence. I had not been spoiled, and had
inherited from my good mother a heart
which was in need and looked for sympa
thy and love. I found hypocritical scoun
drels, designing villains, whoso sole aim
Beemcd to bo to deprivo mo of my money,
and so enjoy themselves, at my expense.
Friends, or rather rascals whom I called
friends, and loved with my whole heart,
betrayed and ridiculed mo as a good na
turcd fool; but my eyes were opened at last
and my heart becamo hardened with suspi
cion. 1 detected and learned to know all
theso parasites. I became engaged to a
rich heiress, whoso intellect and education
were of tho highest order. I perfectly idol
ized her in my childish enthusiasm. Her
love was to recompense me for everything.
Soon, however, I found out that she was a
vain and proud fool, who desired to make
all men her slavee. I broke off tho en
gagement and chose a charming poor child,
a darling innocent turtlo-dovo to be tho an
gel of my life. Ha ! ha I I surprised her
one day folded in tho embrace of a youth
who was by her beloved 1 Sho had lied to
me to become a rich woman. I commenced
a life of dissipation and excess ; took to
traveling ; everywhere I met the samo mor
al wretchedness. At last 1 began to loathe
lifo. We met each other as I wished to
end tho miserable farce."
" Poor young man," said the elderly man
with a tear of sympathy in his eye, "how
much I pity you. Yes, though a poor mau
I have been much happier than you. I
had a wife and daughter who camo puro
aud virtuous out of Ood's hand. Ono of
them has ret urned to Him in the samo way,
and the other will do so eventually. I know
my Lena. Sho will preserve her virtuo
and her honor. She cannot do otherwise."
" Listen, old gentleman ; give mo your
address, aud permit mo to visit your daugh
ter to-morrow I want to judge for my
self the truth of your assertion, ; But you
must give me your word of honor not to be
tray to your child by word, sign, or look
that I am a rich man. '
The old man held out his hand.
I promise. I wish myself to have you
convinced that I spoke the truth. My name
is John Wilkins, and my address is written
on this piooo of paper." With thoso words
he drew a curd from his pocket and handed
it to the other.
"Aud my namo is James Axo ; aud I am
the son anil beirof Homy Axe. Here is a
100 note with the condiliou that you re
main in this house until I come for you to
morrow. A room with a good bed for this
gentleman. Oood-night. To-morrow you
will see me a different character. But no
matter what I do, you must not forgot your
word of honor."
. The old man eould not suppress an ex
clamation of astonishment when ho heard
the name of the young man, or that of a
joyful surprise when he received the bank
note. But, before he eould eollect himself
his new acquaintance bad quitted the room
and the waiter was showing him to his
chamber, and he forgot soon, In the com
fortable bed which ho found there, tho hap
py change of his futo.
In a poorly furnished, but neat and nice
looking attio room in ono of the high, smoke
blackened bouse in a narrow and dark
back street of the great metropolis, sat a
very handsome brnnctto of about twenty
two years of nge, engaged in sewing some
elegant linen. Though her wholo attire
was not worth more than a few shillings, it
fitted as well, and looked as neat and clean
as if It cost just as many pounds. Her
dark, chestnut colored hair enframed a
face of angelic beauty and innocence, whilo
in her dark eyes tho purity of her soul and
mind could bo road. Everywhoro about
and around her was seen tho spirit of or
der, modesty, and charity. Her eyes wore
heavy with sleep and anxiety, and now and
then a deep sigh escaped her pent-up heart.
At last she heard steps ascending tho stairs,
and a charming smilo illumined her counte
nance. Sho listened, and disappointment
began to cast a shadow over her features.
A knock at the door mado her start.
Scarcely had sho strength to utter tho per
mission to enter. A young man attired in
a well-worn and here-and-thero patched
suit of clothes, entered tho room, and with
an liumblo and awkward obeisance, said :
" I beg pardon, ma'am, does Mr. John
Wilkins live bore?"
"Yes, sir. What is your wish?"
" Aro you his daughter, Miss Lena?"
"1 am."
" Then you aro tho ono I desire to see.
I como from your father."
" For heaven's sake where Is he ? What
has happened ? Has he met with an acci
dent? for ho has never remained from home
a wholo night."
"Certainly a little bad luck."
"O, my poor, poor father! what shall 1
havo to hear ?''
The young man was deeply moved by her
distress and agitation, though ho did not
forget to cast a look around tho room.
Don't bo frightened, dear lady, tho mis
fortune is not so groat. Au old acquaint
ance met him yesterday, and Invited him to
a bottlo of wine in a neighboring saloon.
After having finished the samo he treacher
ously left your father to pay the score, and
he must remain in the tavern until it is
paid or else go to prison. Otherwise ho is
well and hoarty."
" My father, my dear father must not go
to prison ;" cried tho young girl anxiously.
"Do you know tho amount of tho dubt?"
"Twelve shillings."
"Alas, sir! I have only three shillings
in my possession. I will quickly soe Mrs.
Riley, and beg her to advance, mo nine
shillings on my work."
"Who is Mrs. Riley?" ,
"Tho milliner for whom I work."
" But if Mrs. Riley does not grant your
request, whut will you do then?" i
The girl burst into tears. "Oh, heaven I"
sobbed sho, " I fear myself that she will not
do it, for I owe her already six shillings,
and she is a very hard woman."
" For what have you incurred that
debt?"
She hesitated, blushingly, to answer.
" You may trust me j I sympathize deep
ly with you, and take a great deal of inter
est in your fate, and only wish that I could
aid you ; but I am only a copyist. Why
have you borrowed tho six shilling?"
" My father is feeble, and needs strength
ening. I have uow and then bought half a
chicken for his soup, or beefsteak."
"I am afraid that under these circum
stances Mrs. Riely will not lend you any
moro money. I have six shillings which I
will give you, but that is all I possess.
Have you not some valuable article which
we eould pawn ?"
" I have nothing but the prayer-book of
my dead mother. She asked me on her
death bed not to part with it, and nothing
is moro sacred to mo than her memory and
my givon promise j but for my father I
would cheerfully part with it." Trembling
she brought the book. "Oh, Blr, on tho
unprinUd leaves in the back part of this
book I have ofton written my secret
thoughts. No ono must know that I am
tho writer. Will you promise me that?"
"Certainly, my dour miss. Have no
fears, no misuse shall bo made of your relic.
But get ready, we must go."
Whilo she was busy in the adjoining room,
preparing herself for the walk, ho opened
tho book and read the pious and pint) effu
sion of the maiden heart. His eyes filled
with tears, of rapture and emotion. She
entered, donned In a threadbare shawl ; but
as sho walked alongside of him in uncon
scious dignity, he contemplated her with
roveronee and admiration, ,
Mrs. Riley did not loan tho required sum,
but assured the companion of the young
girl that Miss Lena was an angel. , lie pre
ferred this to her money. He pawned,
therefore, on his way, the book, and thus
obtained the required amount. Lena was
very happy.
" But how will you manage to live to-day
and to-morrow, if you dispose of all your
money ?"
" I do not know, but God will help us,"
she replied, trustingly ; " I shall work dur
ing tho nights."
"Yes, God will surely aid you," ho cried
and almost betrayed himself by his enthusi
asm. Axe entered tho tavern alono to instruct
old Wilkins in his rolo in a fow words.
Then ho called Lena. What a heavenly
sight it was to behold tho sweet child throw
her arms around her father's nock, to kiss
him and press him to her heart.
"Ah, my darling father, what a horriblo
night I have passed, filled with anxiety and
care about you. But thank God, you are
again with me in good hoalth." And now
sho laughed and rejoiced.
Then sho redeemed the dear man, and led
him homo in triumph.
Axo accompanied her and informed her
that ho had raised a few more shillings ; sho
should provide him dinner with them. Iu
the joyous activity, the charming industry,
tho unassuming behavior of tho sweet child,
Axo felt like fulling dowu before her aud
kissing hor feet.
The young man did not leave till quite
late, and novcr thought once of his propos
ed loap from Blackfriar's bridge. He
camo every evening " to eat up the small
earnings of the day."
After tho lapse of two weeks he said, ono
evening, ns ho was taking leavo :
"Miss Lena, will you become my wife?
I am, it is trite, only a poor copyist, but I
havo an honest heart."
She blushingly dropped hor eyes.
" Can you love me, child ?" he asked in
fearful emotion.
Sho nodded silently, and gave him her
hand.
" I love you inexpressibly ; you have sav
ed my lifo."
A few days after this, early in tho morn,
ing, the pair proceeded, plainly but respect
ably dressed, in company with Mr. Wil
kins, to tho neighboring church, where they
wero quietly married. Trembling with joy,
Axo folded his wife in his arms and kissed
her on the forehead. Before the church
stood an elegant carriage A footman in
livery respectfully held tho door open.
" Jump in," cried the happy husband to
his astonished wife, and before she know
what sho was about, nil three had entered,
and were being driven away at a rapid paco.'
In front of a high splendid mansion, in'
Westminister, the carriage halted. Richly
dressed servants liftod her out aud led her
into magnificently furnished parlors. '
" Here is your now mistress," said Axe
to them, "show her respect, and obey her
commands."
" My darling child, I am James Axe, ono
of the richest men of this rich city. This
house belongs to you, everything you see is
your own. I hold a pledge in my hand that
riches will not spoil your pure maiden
heart. Here it is the prayer-book of your
mother. Look what you have written in
it : "And if thou gnvest me all the treas
ures of the uuiverse, my God, I would still
remain Thy humble servant. For what is
gold before Thee, as Thou only regardest
hearts? . To Thee belongs my heart, and
shall always remain so."
"To God and to thee, my Jamos," whis
pered Lena, and laid her bead blushingly
upon her husband's breast.
" Hurrah for tho loop from Black friar's
bridge," criod Axo exullingly, and em
braced his father-in-law.
Rather Awkward.
A Sacramento ludy found herself guilty
of larceny the other day under rather pe
culiar oiroumstances. She was riding in a
crowded railway car, and occupied a seat
with another lady passenger. Llko a great
many othor women of the present day she
wore curls her own hair, of course, but
it wasn't fastened on strictly according to
nature's programme. By and by, as the
train was jolted along, she felt something
falling about hor face and neck, and in a
second it flashed across hor mind that her
curls bad become detached. The predica
mont was a shocking one, but she endeav
ored to save herself by quietly passing
the capillary ornaments iuto her pock
et, thanking her stars that she was ut
most at her destination. At the station
she hastened to tho dressing-room to io
pair damages to her toilette, when behold I
the mirror reflected back the fact that her
curls were in their proper position, and bm
examination of those in her pocket show
ed that they wore not hois, but pf a differ. '
ent color, belonging to the lady who sat by
hor side in the car.