The Bloomfield times. (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, October 15, 1872, Image 1

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    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