S'lpT yfp U-Iu m .iwjii- fir"'' AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY NEWSPAPER. Vol. VI. Now Bloomttold, !?., Tuesday, October 15, 187S. . TVo. 42. 18 FUBLISUKD BVERY TCESOAT MOnNlNO, Bt FEA1TS MOETIMEB & CO., At New Bloomfleld, Terry Co., To. Bern provided with HUam Power, and Urge Cylinder and Job Fresw, we are prepared to do all kinds of Job-Printing tu good style and at Low i'rlces. ADVEHTISINQ BATES TramitntH Cent per line for one insertion. 13 " two Insertions 15 " three Insertions. Business Notices in Local Column 10 Cents per line. Notices of Marriages or Deaths inserted free. Tributes of Respect, &c, Ten cents per line. YEARLY ADVERTISEMENTS. One Inch one year 0,JW Two Inches " " 818.00 M.For longer yearly adv'ts terms will be given pou application. THE CIT7 ON THE HILL. I know a quiet city, A silent, peaceful city A beautiful, strange city Upon a sunny hill j Where daisies fair are growing ; Where Summer winds are blowing Along the earth's green bosom, Adown the streets so still. The streets are long and narrow ; The brown thrush and the sparrow Their little nests have bullded, Amid the flower-flecked grass j The robins enrol in it You hear the song of linnet ; Whenever this strange city Tour footsteps chance to pass. The houses lu this city This still and peaceful city, Whore never human pity The dwellers need nor ask .Each roof the grasses cover, The green blades each a lover Of haunts, where thrush and plover Within the sunlight bask. " There are no sounds of sorrow. No longings for to-morrow Nor pain to bear and borrow, Within its silent streets j But all is peaceful over The green grass and the clover, As days go drifting onward, Above its calm retreats. And there our dear ones weary Of treading pathways dreary, With souls bowed down with sorrow ' Have often turned for rest And In that fair white city, That beautiful, strange city, No thought of pain nor pity Can touch the .dweller's breast. Ol peace, so sweet and tender, So wrapped about with splendor Of rest, which you can render About each low laid head ; We shall reach this city, Sometime, by thy sweet pity, And there will find a dwelling Among the silent dead. JOHN JONES IN TROUBLE; -Olf- . LAUItA'S LOVER. MINERVA COLLEGE (principal, Ming Augusta Starchley) was a highly genteel establishment, in a highly genteel suburban neighborhood, and guaranteed to its pupils (tweuty-iive in number) a highly .genteel education, " on terms," as the ad vertisement said, " moderate and strictly inclusive." The prettiest of the young ladies (and there were several pretty ones at Minerva College) was Miss Laura Roach, the daugh ter of an officer in the East India service. Ilor ago was " sweet seventeen," and as for her appearance, it requires a poet adequately to describe her ; so, as my hero is a poet, I shall leave him to perform tho task himself. The rosy God of Love could find, no en trance iiito Minerva Collogo. What with the high, spiked walls, the tall hedges, (he locked garden gate, and the soldier-like regiments of tall lime trees, the premises were oil all sides well fortified against him. The house was in an awfully quiet street, ami literally "far from the hum of men," no beings of that species ever visiting ex cept the teachers,' tho butcher, aud the baker. . .'; i ; Hut for all that Miss Btarobley's pupils were not entirely without their day-dreams of affection and air-diawu cabtjos of ro mance. . , , , Indeed, half of thorn wore Bald to bo i e. cretly lu love with the French, professor, while it was generally agreed that Mr. Owen Wilford, Miss Starehley's nephew, and only resident master, bad oomplotely captivated the hearts of the rest, espeolally that of Miss Laura Roach. But the young lady had another adorer, hough she didn't know it. lie had seen her one Sunday when the school was out for its "constitutional," and his heart was gone instantly. He was seventeen and susceptible, and though only a clerk at Messrs. Coddysill & Co.'s, City, and bearing the uuromantio name of John Jones, he had an aspiring soul. lie hoped one day to fill the world with the thunder of his renown. For Jones, as before intimated, was a poet. From his earliest years lie had poured forth his soul in lyric strains whenever be could find rhymes, which ' isn't always an easy matter. Ho affected tho Byronio style, wore a turn-down collar, curled his hair, habitual ly rolled his eyes in fine frenzy, and assum ed an expression of perpetual gloom ; moreover, ho named himself after his favor ite bard, and dropping the unpoetio word "John," dubbed himself Byron Jones, or, in full, Byron Tennyson Shakespeare Jones. How to acquaint Laura with his affec tion ? that was the question. To climb the walls of Minerva College was like storming a fortress, and to send a love-letter was equally difficult, for proba bly Miss Slarchley made a point of over hauling all the young ladies' correspon dence. Meanwhile, Miss Laura attended to her lessons like a good girl as she was, blissful ly unconscious of Jones' adoration. Her private opinion was, that Mr. Owen Wilford was decidedly handsome and gentlemanly young man, and worthy to bo a bachelor of heart) as well as arti. Jones know not as yet that he had so for midable a rival, or the tortures of h Is heart would have been much increased. Our poet mado a desperate resolve. lie would bribe the postman to convey a letter to Miss Laura Roach (he soon found out her name) in rhyme, and expressing in the most fiery words the passion that consum ed him. So he sat down in his "study," t. at tic, wielding a formidable quill. lie pondered aud worked about an hour and a half, and nibbled his pen down to the stump. At last this great poetio effusion bui-ht upon the light of day: , " TO LACRA TDK DIVINE. " Thine eyes are like the lime-light's flush, Thy tresaes shine like golden cash j' Thy cheeks are like two Eastern roses, And how divinely formed thy nose is I The portals of thy beauteous mouth Like chorrlcs from the sunny south Thy teeth outgleam the richest pearls In short, of all Miss Starehley's girls, , Thou ouly bast enslaved tho bard Who herewith doth enclose his card. " Byron Tennyson 8hakesi'eaiie Jones." Ho addressed this "To Miss Laura Roach," which name, however, suggested a more poetical ono. " Laura Roach ! That looks something like ' Lalla Rookh.' By Jove ! a capital ideat I will always address her by the name of Torn Moore's heroine, whom she resembles." Ho then added " P. 8. In writing Laura, I mistook) I'll cull thee only Lalla Rookh I" " If that dou't melt her heart, nothing will," he said, as he folded it up. On arriving at the school at dusk, he was lucky enough to find " Bob," the boy Jn buttons, just coming out on an errand. "Bob" was a regular imp oef, mischif and he looked like it. He eyed wonduringly the romantic youth who thus addressed him . "Juvenile, convoy this missive privately to my adored Lalla Ro I mean, Miss Lauia Roach, audthou shalt bo recom pensed." " I dunuo what you mean, sir," said Bob. Well, then, I want you to give this let ter to Miss Roach, without the schoolmis tress seeing it. If you do it all right, aud get me an answer back, I'll give you a shil ling." "All serene, sir; but I must have the bob down on the nail," said Buttons, cuu ningly. :..,.' ' That won't do Sixpence now, and the rest wheu you bring me the answer. But mind, loop olose, and take care Miss StarohUy knows nothing of it, or I'll never forgive you." Bob agreed, and promised that Laura should have it that very evening, and Jones should know the result in the morning. Byron Jones couldn't sleep a wink that night, for the hopes and fears that agitated him. The next morning came, and he saw nothing of Bob. Jones was half distracted. He made so many mistake at the office, that Messrs. Coddy sill's head clerk more than once threatened him with condign punishment. How was it Lalla Rookh had not re plied ? We will follow the fate of the poetical letter. Bob, whilo waiting at table that dinner time, found an opportunity of dropping the note unobserved into Miss Roach's lap. Laura was so surprised and curious, that slio could not resist the temptation to open and read it at once. Suddenly looking up, she perceived the powerful spectacles of Miss Starchley level ed straight at her. " Ah, Miss Roach 1 what is that?" cried the schoolmistress. " What are you read ing ? I insist upon seeing it at once." Laura was terribly confused. She found herself the centre of obsorva tiou to the whole school. Fumbling in her agitation, she attempt ed to thrust the note in her pocket, but dropped it on the ground. Miss Starchley pounced upon it instantly. Her face, as she read it, was awful to contemplate. " Ah-h-h 1" she exclaimed. " Who sent this? Who brought it? Who is this Byron Tennyson Shakespeare Jones, and what do you know of him ? Como, I mutt know." Laura defonded hersolf by telling the ex act truth, viz., that she knew nothing of that correspondent, save that the note was brought by Roberto (for so " Buttons" was called iu the house.) All the schoolmistress's wrath was now turned upon that luckloss juvenile. " You impudent young creature I How dare you bring such letters here ? Doubt less you havo been bribed by this furtive individual. Inform me all about it in stautly. Bob was so takon back, that he stam mered, hesitatod, and altogether so de meaned himself that Miss Starchley seized her torrible cane and administered several smart strokes, which set him howliug. " Drat the love-letters ?" cried he when alone iu the waBh-house, as he rubbed his smarting back. " Catch me having any thing to do with 'cm again no, not for half-a-crown a-picco." As to Jones' unlucky effusion, Miss Starchley promptly throw it on the tire. , " If I ever find such rubbish brought bore again," she cried, "I care not to whom it is addressed, I'll punish tho whole school, without distinction of persons." " I say, Laura," said Netty Wade, her special friend, with a sly look, as they took their after-dinner walk in tho grounds, "you can't persuade me you know nothing about the letter." ' "I declare I did not," responded our heroine, " and I can't make out who this Byron What's-his-uame can be, unless it is that luckaduisical-looking youth that stared at me so hard at chuich last Bun day." " With frizzly hair and a turn-down col lar?" said Netty. " I noticed him, and he seemed so woe-begone, I could hardly help laughing. That must be the individual to to a certainty." " What a game 1" added young Polly Hopkins. " I think we ought to make some fun out of this." . " But how?" said Laura. " I've got in to trouble enough already, and I certainly shall try and keop out of it In the future." " If you dou't answer him he'll die for love," remarked Netty. Bob on being privately questioned by the young ladies, described Mr. Jones, and 'confirmed their suspicions, but, at the same time, declared that he was " blessed if he'd have anything to do with no more letters." Meanwhile, how fared it with our hero? Sadly iudeed. His despair at receiving no reply drove him almost frantic. He waited for hours . outside Minerva College, but oaught no glimpse of Laura or Bob, who, iudeed took care to keep out of hi way.' That night Jones ''consumed the mid night oil," or rather tallow, while, iu a fit of poetio inspiration, ha pgain strove to move the heart of Laura 1 , '" TO LALLA ROOKH, TUS iOORNrUL." " Ah I cruel maid, who disregards the groans ; Wrung from the tortured breast of Byron Jones. If thns you leave me in my dark dospalr, I'll do some desperate deed, I do declare! My wretched thread of life some day I'll cut, Beneath the billows of the water-butt Or else, perchance you'll find my llfolets corpse" "Now, what will rhyme with corpse ?" asked Jones of himself, biting the end of his pen, in a perplexed manner. In vain he went through two dictionaries, and spout over an hour in cudgolling his brains; he was at last forced to the conclu sion that there was no word rhyming (to corpse) in the English language, and that be muBt make a slight alteration in the word. So this was the effective termina tion "Or else, perchance, you'll And my lifeless corse Stabbed to the heart t Then won't you feel remorse V The next morning he sought an opportu nity of sending this by means of Bob, whom he was fortunate enough to pounce upon just by the college. Buttons looked uncomfortable, and be ing driven to extremities, declared that Miss Starchely was so sharp, that it was no use trying to send billy-doot that way, ond that he (Bob) didn't want no more whack ing. Our hero, on learning tho fate of his mis sive, was in groat perplexity. ' The only resource and that a desperate one was the high wall at the back of the school premises. If lie could climb to the top of that he might spy Laura during her play-hours, and drop the note down where she could pick it up. With this intention, he again wont to the collogo as soon as here turned from Messrs Coddysill's. But the wall looked a hope less case twelve feet high at least, aud it was impossible to scale it without a ladder. Ho listened, and heard tho merry laugh of tho school-girls; they had just finished their lessons. Desperation seized Jones, and Joues seized a stone, and be wrapped his epistle around it, nnd threw it up per pendicularly, so that it dropped just on tho othor side of the wall. A terrific, piorcing scream was the re sult. 1 "Oh-h-h-h 1" (the voice was that of Pol ly Hopkins), " my head, my head 1 it's all bloeding. Somebody outside is throwing stones, aud a big ono hns hit me right on the forehead. Oh-h-h 1" There was an upronr immediately. All the school gathered around the luckloss Polly. Laura precoived the note, took it up and read it, and thus discovered the cause of this disaster. " Byron Jones again I declare !" she cried. At this moment Miss Starchley, hearing tho screams of Polly, came rushing out. : Laura contrived to conceal the letter, but all agreed as to the fact of the stone. " It must have been one of those vaga bond boys out in tho street I" exclaimed Miss Starchley. " Here, Robert, run for a policemun directly, and let him take them into custody." Jones heard these words, and bolted in groat trepidation. now smoothly tho courso of his true love seemed destined to run ! For two days he did not venture near Mineva College; but, to his joy, he receiv ed a reply -by post from Miss Laura, blam ing him for his ' lute rash adventure, but giving him hopes that his affection was re ciprocated. Who so happy as our poetio friend? He kiHscd the note rapturously, and his ey rolled in finer frenzy than ever. For a time fortune, indeed, favored him. He contrived not only to see Laura, but to speak to hor alone in the front garden one dny when MUs Starchley wn out. t .1 Fervently did he express his devotion which Laura seemed to appreciate, if not return. More than this, ho had several sweet stolen conversations with her over the high play-grouud wall. ' ' ' , , She managod it by ascending the gaiden er's short ladder, which just allowed her charming countenance to be visible to the admiring Jones. Bettor still, he sent her several more poetio epistles, basidos . sundry little pre sents; and ono night he serenaded hor with his guitar (which he had bought for 7s. 6d., (second-hand) until imperiously sum moned to move on by the police. The course of Li true lve seemed pros pering beyond all his expectations. ' . Alas 1 1 fear that Laura was not quite so sincere iu her encouragement as hj fondly supposed; this, however, the sequel will decide. At all events, those stolen Intel views over the play-ground wall were Tory pleas ant, and, at length, during ono of them, be ventured thus to "como to the point :" " My dearest Lalla the time has come to prove thy affection. Fly with me to other and happier lands?" " Oh I Mr. Jones, you quite agitate me I When how where could we fly ?" "Anywhere. To Italy, or Spain, or the Isles of Greece," responded the poetio youth. " But I should prefer above all other places, the beautious Vale Cashmere, where in the rosy bowers of Bendemeer, or the diamoud turrets of Amborabad, we could live in Oriental splendor and luxury 1" " But where'a the money to come from ?" asked the more practical Laura. "Well, I havo ahem! a cortain sum saved up. Yon could doubtless get some from your relations. Besides, a friend of mine commands one of the channel steam ers, and would take us passage free. Oh I say thou wilt consent?" " I scarcely see my way clearly," object Laura. "Clear as the day," he replied. "Say that to-morrow night we agree to meet in the front garden. I will station myeelf be neath your window punctually at the witching hour of twelve with a rope ladder, or, as I don't know whore to buy one of those, suppose I provide you a coil of strong rope, by means of which you can let yourself down out of your window into my arms." " What next?" exclaimed Laura. "Next? Why; we can thon catch the mail train to Dover, whence, having been solemnly united by special license, we will embark on board tho channel steamer. The world will then, as the poet beautifully observers, "be all before us where to choose t" Laura seemed much struck by this bril liant scheme, and pondored over it a long while, hut at length said: " I am thine, and consent freely." " Then I am indeed blessed 1" he ex claimed, rapturously. " When is it to be?" "Say Tuesday night, provided it isn't bright moonlight, for in that case somobody would see us, and 1 should faint, and that would pi-event our escape." " All will go well I feel confident of it," said tho sanguine Byron Jones. " Tuesday night, then, at twolve; but first meet me here at the same time as this to-morrow, aud I will bring the rope; you can conceal it in your room, and" "I hear Miss Starchley coming 1" inter rupted Laura. "Adieu, then, doarest 1" he said, aud she disappeared from tho wall just us he turned the street comer. No sooner was he invisible than Miss Laura burst out laughing, which notion in duces us to believe that she was cruelly playing with the enslaved heart of Jones.a ' "Oh, Netty, it's such fun !" she so hi to her confident', "ho proposed to elope, and ho is going to bring a rope, and I've agreed to it all, and I've thought of such a splen did idea" the rest was spoken in n much lower tone. ... Thoy conversed together for. some time, like persons hatching a plot, which, in truth, was exactly what they were doing. The next day Jones again met Laura, and brought the rope. She promised to follow all his directions, and everything being thus arranged, our poet looked upon bis bliss as certain. ' The all-important hour at length arrived. A quarter of twelve on Tuesday night, the weather being very propitious, and the sky was conveuiontly cloudy, saw Byron Jones stationed beneath his beloved one's lattice. All was still. Minerva House Beemed wrapped in profound repose. Even the nightingale was silent (one reason boing that there was no such bird anywhere near.) .'. ... The adjacent church olock struck .twelve, and Jones' heart beat like a hammer. " She comes, my beautiful, iny own I" he murmured, as, from out the window whereon his eye was fixed, there emerged a female form, dimly visible in the dark ness. :. '. " now gracefully she descends 1 gliding like a seraph about to alight upon the -earth. Keep tho rope steady, dearest," he oiled, in aloud whispor, and she got dowu to tho level of the first Wi-y window. More slowly und with a somewhat sway ing motion, she ne.utd the earth. Jones could now preceive that sTe was attired in the striped dress he had often so much ad mired, and that over her head was thrown a bla?k shawl, arranged after 'the manner of a Spanish mantilla. CONCI.UDKU ON BKCOKD TAOK. 1