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A. J. GERRITSON Proprietor./
1914 TEI 361112091 DIMOCILAT
" The Itelle4
. Struggle, for. Liberty
PURITANS PUTTING - WEN IN PRISON ,POll
Jefferson says t `" The bill' for .eiiit
in g Religious Freedom, the principles of
which to - a certain 'degree had been' enac
ted before, I had drawn in all the !atti
tude of reason and tight. It still met with
opposition, but was finally passed, and a•
singular proposition proved that protec
tion of opinion was meant to be universal.
Where the preamble declares that coer
cion is a departure from the plan of the
Holy Author of our Religion, an amend
ment, was proposed by inserting the words
Jesus Christ, the IThly Author of Our Re
ligion. The insertion was rejected by a
great majority, in proof that it meant to
comprehend within the mantle of its pro
tection, the Jew and the Gentile, the
Chtistian and Mobatnedan, the Hindoo
and Infidel of every denomination."
And Thomas Jefferson was the name
which the Puritans used when they wished
to frighten their children to sleep; and
Fisher Ames, in the beginning of this cen
"Do we not find the titling faction in
Virginia in avowed hostility to our relig
ious institutions ? If Democracy triumphs
in New England, our progenitors, if they
should return to the earth, would with
grief and shame disown their degenerate
And if the religious institutions of New
England bad triumphed over Democracy
in the foundation of our government, and
no "'mantle of protection had been thrown
around the Jews and Gentiles, the Chris
tians and Mohamedans, the Hincioos and
Infidels of every denomination," how
would the ministers of the religion of New
England have conducted themselves to
wards them? History gives the answer,
and we will bring - history first to show
the way that Infidels would have fared
under the rule of Puritanism :
" 4 settlement was made below Provi
dence, on the Naragansett bay, in the
year 1638, by Samuel Gorton and .a num
ber of his followers. They were soon ar
rested by an armed party of' trebTe Gor
ton's nu.nbers, who had been dispatched
with strict orders to bring the heretics,
- alive or dead, to Boston' At the head of
this crusade in miniature," says Hinton,
"marched a holy man with strict injunc
tions to keep the soldiers regularly• to
their prayers, and to explain to Gorton
and his deluded followers the who'e enor
mities of their errors before putting them
to death. They were made prisoners and
conveyed to Boston. The women and
children were dispersed in the woods,
and as it was a time when the gronndtwas
covered with snow, several of them actu
ally perished. The rest of these helpless
fugitives, after sustaining incredible hard
ships, were protected, clothed and hospi
tably entertained by—savages!
" Gorton and his followers being bro't
before the court at Boston, the charge ex
hibited against them wasiii the following
words : Upon much examination and se
rious consideration of your writings ; with
your answers about them, we do charge
you to bail blasphemous enemy of the
true religion of our Lord Jesus Christ,
and His holy ordinances, and also of civil
authority among the people of God, and
particularly in this jurisdiction. Gorton
was therefore ordered to be confined in
Charlestown, there to be kept at work,
and to wear such bolts and irons as might
hinder his escape, and if he broke his con
finement, or by speech or writing pub
lished Pr maintained any of the blasphem
ous, abominable heresies wherewith he had
been charged by the General Court, or
should reproach or reprove the churches
of our Lod Jesus Christ in these united
colonies, or the civil government thereof,
he should suffer death. The rest were
confined in different towns, one in a town,
and upon -the same conditions with Gor
ton. Their cattle were seized and order
ed to be sold, and the charge of fetching
them, and the expense of the trial and im
prisonment to be paid out of the proceeds,
and the overplus to be reserved for their
future maintenance during their corifine!
..Benedict, the Baptist historian, says
"Eighty head of their cattle were sold to
pay-the charges of bringing. them' from
their homes and trying them before a for
eigatribunal, which amounted to a htmd
red and sixty pounds. , But thtrcourt des
.pairing of .. - renlkdinikt them from theiti*.
not' Only froin their juritdiction,4ut 'alio
from their own/Janda! This detestable , .
tyranny came '4 . 3f Mr. Cotton's
Theocracy, and it is a lamentable f act, that
that mistaken divine encouraged thekotirt
in this horrid oppression Of Gorton and
his unfortunate asspeiatei. - Borne of hem
were at that very time members of the
church in Provide nee, They bad asgocia
-Led with Gorton,-not on account-of his,re
ligio.us opinions, but for the purpose;ofob
latning lands on-which they migh(olitairt.
• subSistence for -Or me/Vettadd ther-
Belk ,1 1 .4iffiftllottllatiheett that clatina-i
hecetio widely hievribodu perseetw
"•. 1 • :
tors pretended ;: kilt? had, worshipped the
tints tectotfanif starts: ivAati rightdidthat
give the 'Biitittin.iutert• t 6 treat hit and'
hi&compaiiji'in inch an 'ciitirtigeitti:ittitti
iter;? Mitelt injitre'd'' :nea t ; being'
'prihibited - on c -Pain 'of deith.folci'ailietr
lauds,:repaireatn IthOde' Island.' About
'that ttnie . •Roger!Wiliitims,,:whn had 'also
'been banished , Went to' E ngland, and by
the aisiatanee of Henry - Vane,•nbtain
ed.skfreis and abstolute charter of civil in
cot pt tor Providence Piantat iona.—
empoviered them to rule thethselves by
such fort* of civil government us •'they
found Most suitable: Gorton also went to
England to obtain redress, and procuring
a letter, of safe conduct from the earl of
Warwick to 'the MasSachusette Magis
trates,..and an order that his people should
be allowed peaceable possession al, their
lands, he returned to this colony which he
named after his-noble protector. By this
means' the claims of the Mas'sachnsetts
court were defeated. Gorton was of good
family in England, and was . promoted to
hotthr 'in the Cotoi4: - still
ret aid a liVely . abhorrenee of iliat-religinus
tyranny by which he was so cruelly op
This religious tiranny which is the es
sense of Puritanism—the tyranny which
dragged these people from their homes
and loaded- them with irons—which left
their wives and children to perish, and
Who were only saved from starvation and
death by the savages of the wilderness—
is the same tyrannical power which now
tares over .the South.
For thirty years did Puritan ministers
teach:the people of the North that the
slaveholdera in the South were so wicked
in the sight of God, that He commanded
their destruction; urging the negroes to
rise and imbrue their hands not only in
the blood of their masters, but of the wo
men and children. And yet the Puritans,
ministers and all, held Indians, and Ne
groes, and white men iu slavery for au
hundred and fifty years.
1h ! the secret of all this Puritan hatred
of the South lies in the fact that the South
rescued ail the religious sects in America
obt of their hands—that the South over
turned their Union of church and state,
where it existed, and prevented the estab
lish nicht of Puritanism over America in the
beginning, and placed around all the peo
ple of America the " mantle" of Democra
cy as a protection and shield from relig
ious intolerance and oppression. Truly
bath Chaelue Dczvitc..- coLly.i.-Tho
betrays its consciousness of the source of
its punishment by desperate reaction
against New England Puritanism."
Yes, Americans I Every battle fought
by the South, , was a battle for freedom
against New England oppression and per
secution. As Roger Williams and Samu
el Gorton sought the aid of :England to*
protect their people in the right of self
government and freedon. from Puritan in
tolerance, .eo the people of the South
sought only for independence and the right
of governing themselves, in self protec
tion against the very power which is now
binding them in the galling chains of slave
ry t and the soldiers who are aiding in ri
veting them on have been taught to "keep
regularly to their pra y ers," while the min
isters of the North have thanked the
Lord that He delivered those wicked re
bels and heretics into their hands, and
called upon the nation to put hundreds of
them to death. And yet these ministers
know very well that the South saved the
lives of i_he patriots of Massachusett s,who
were declared rebels against the British
throne, by sending General NV:A:Abington
there to tight their battles for them.
Ah, they have declared hero their pul
l:ills that God took vengeance on Presi
dent Liticoln,'by his sudden and violent
death, becau,se he spared the life of (ken.
Lee, whom. they compared to " Agig ;"
tliu-; proving that their "Jewish theocra
cy," in 'theory,' remains' to thiM day, and
that they are struggling to make it't,he ei
tablished government of the
States—another Pu ritan. Common eatt h,
,Oliver Cromwell to rule it with
the eword. Liberty is now writhing in
the grasp of despoliein. Let Puritanism
triuu4ph, andAlten !Fare well. 10 • American
How the Onakers were treated by the
Puritans in;ttie'next number.
.rgr There dwelt in Maine a good
Siethddiatrliftither'who - was" blessed - with
a wife- brfretfuV.disposition:, at
Campineeting;they op one occasion, knelt
together AV the tent-prayer meeting. The
- husband fele Oilliottipon to pray, which he
did.iti:WdeVout Manner. t - He was follow
ed by his wife, who, among other things
said:. • -
",Thor )MOurest, Lord, that I am some
,whit-ekoaejiand fretful At home," but, be
fore iheCoAld'•announce to the L ord ano
ibetstattiO 1443 , be gabouLexcl wed.
" Amen ty.tiat4 t - ord,esery word - of ir."
It woultr. , ,bi(ro..eitlitig.:th i ii - Secrets of do
mestic -disclose as the,mauner
and 'spirit! itt , Which - tbe- conversation was
resumed an4,endell liaate
farA •Isin'gular -freak of 'nature :was
seep in PI? Arkaneas , town, repeutly o in the
shape Ofa thixn ,earai. one on,
eaeb_ekle - orb's' hend,ea ustial;aild n'third,
iseinneilktti - aubtlf:3Foftilloiir4w;
umn .biirtera, ^i ' C ; 1 4'411 f
MONTROSE, PA., TUESDAY, JUNE 30, 1868.
Three Chapters of Romance.
The Boston corresponaent of the Spring- ,
'field • Republican sends• to That paper the
fethisfing-romantle giarrative's = " '
About . fonr;yeitia;ago,,a young law stu
lent,of a Western:o,y traveling with, a
party Of frienda,,CMita',k - Boston, 'and n
his stay here Met once or twice
young lady,whn i livelf in t 4. most aristo
cratic of our,enburban toWilc.; Thei ac
quaintance was casual, gaiiig haidly , , be
yond an introduction of the parties - and
the exchange of the usual comments of
the weather, &c. Time pacif i ed, .as • the
noVelists.say, and last fall the.yonng gen
tleman wrote to the friend with he
ihad'traveled to . tbe following etre*: He
had established 'himself well in his Profes
sion, with a fair prospect of pecuniary
success, and he wanted to marry ; tint in
the entire circle of Lis lady aequaiutaneep
he knew not one who filled his eye. The
friend who received his letter, a lady, pi
tying'his condition, replied instantly, re
minding him of the maiden whom he had
met in the aristocratic suburb four years
ago, and suggesting that she would suit
him admirably. He acted at once on the
hint, and wrote to the young lady ; she
replied, a correspondence followed ; in
December he wrote that he would come
East in January to see her, but could stay
but one day ; he came, he returned to the
West, and she went shopping; one week
from to-day the twain will go before a
minister and be made one.
ROMANCE NUMBER TWO
Death laid his irresistible hand upon a
young shoemaker, during the year 1867,
and the cord wainer of course "pegged
out," as is said .in the cheerful game of
cribbage. He left a widow and a nice
little property. I should have called him
a manufacturer, not a maker. The wid
ow mourned loud and long and draped
her person in extensive weeds. She ne'er
should lo,ik upon his like again—com
mend her to a dose of strychnine as the
alternative. She was a conscientious wo
man, and, living in the country, she could
not spend all her income on purple and
flue linen and the other traditional luxu
ries of wealth. So she resolved to invest
some of her accumulating greenbacks in
a "storied urn," or some such monument
al monstrosity, commemorative of her de
funct husband's virtues. She called on a
marble-worker alb pe.:eplavorilre.S . rnwn and
took counsel with him. He was a come
ly person and plainly had a genius for
sympathetic sculpture. The bargain was
struck—for the monument, I mean. In
due season it was finished and the artist
came to the village of the lady's residence
to superintend its erection. She was a
constant attendant in the cemetry, watch.
ing the progress of the work. It was
slow progress for some reason. Day af
ter day she put in an appearance in the
melancholy inclosure, and wept silently
while the work went on, except some
times when the marble man ventured to
beg for her advice on some doubtful
point. Marble man though be was, he
had a tender heart, and that organ was
touched by the sight of her devotion.—
He pitied and anon be loved her, that Ni
obe in bombazine. One day as the two
stood contemplating the white memorial
of the departed, he spoke; she listened,
her sohs ceased ; she placed her black kid
glove in his muscular palm, and to make
our story short they are to be married
soon. Ido not know whether, the mar
ble man got his pay for the monument.
ROMANCE NUMBER THREE
I have reserved the strangest story for
the last. In 1845, a young man and a
young woman took upon themselves the
obligations of matrimony. They lived to
gether in the enjoyment of what is known
as conjugal bliss just one year. At, the
end of that time the husband disappeared.
The wife Waited, and waited, like Mari
anna in the moated grange, but the hus
band came not. In due time she procur
ed a divorce, resumed her maiden name,
and addressed herself energetically to
work, fiudiog in active employment the
moAt potent nepenthe for her sorrows.—
Suceess awarded her; she accumulated a
comfortable property, and after living in
Boston and California many years, she re
turned to her native villag e and lived at,
her ease. Once in a whil she went to
Boston and visited the family of Mr. B—.
Since her husband left her on that memo
rable day in 1845, she had never beard of
or from him. Beyond doubt he was
dead. Last February, Mr. S—, rid
ing near the city, took a stranger into his
carriage. In the course of conversation
be asked the stranger his name.
"G' ," replied the latter.
"Did yon ever hear of J— -G— ?"
inquired Mr. S—.
"He is my brother."
"And has anything_ ever been known
of him since he disappeared, years ago ?"
"Yes, he returned very recently, and is
trying to find his family."
"Why, bless your soul !" cried Mr.
9—, "I am well acquainted with his
wife she visited at my house, nod is
now living at M—. l
. 0f coarse the returned wanderer soon
heard this news, and a few days later the
deserted-wife 'received a letter from him
-tvh~ntirl~a had called) huslland ; : bat
wlri for tweity-VirmOdrig
not seen or beard a word of. A corres
pondence ensued, and two weeks ago to
day, I think, the truant went to see the
woman he bad• so.eruelly_. wronged.- The
particulars of their interview cannot
give; but it is: safe to infer that the
smouldering spark of affection was resus
citated in _their two bosoixts,and that the
great, gulf of twenty-three years that. had
divided theii lives'*as bridged by a pro
cess whose rapidity and simplicity Rceb
ling or Eads, er any other civil engineer,
could not parallel. In fine, at the ffrst
meeting they renewed their twenty-three
years' old troth-plight. The next, day
they went to D to see his relatives ;
the next day, he or rather she, for he had
no property, bought a farm ; the next
day they returned to M ; the next
day they were remarried very quietly;
and the next day they departed for their
farm in D--, where they propose to
pass.the autumn of their lives in the calm
happiness that attends, or ought to at
-teud, "two souls with but a single
thought—two hearts that, beat as one.;
The foregoing remarkable story is true
in 'every, particular, and I am acquainted
with one of the returned couple.
The Parson's Fix.
An Awkward Predicament Turns Ont
"I do not know," he began, "good peo
ple, what you mean by ft-8x ; but if you
mean an awkward prediciment, which
for the season is unpleasant, but may or
may not end advantageou&ly forthe indi
vidual chit fly concerned, I can relate to
you an interesting narration in which. I
was the principal performer ; but if by
fix you intend to designate some circum
stance in the chapter of accidents in hu
man life which of necessity must termin
ate very unpleasantly, like the case of our
elder brother Richard, why, all I can say
is that —"
"You are an ignoramus," burst in Dick.
"In the first ploy, you know very well
what a6x is. You have not lett college
long enough to have quite forgotten slang.
Secondly, Ned, allow me to remark that
my 6x did end advantageously, most ad
vantageously, for I got out of matrimony,
and saw how nearly through it I had got
into trouble. Thirdly, permit me, my
dear fellow, to observe, and I will answer
for it, that the rest of the company, or
congTemation.... Z oapp.o6o
you would all
them, will endorse my observation, that
you are not now in the pulpit, and conse
quently you need not use the longest
words you can find ; moreover, you may
come to the point at once, provided you
have a point to come to; and although
we happen to be nearly related to you, it
is not absolutely necessary that, in the
course of your story, you should address
ns more than once as 'My brethren ; or
'My dear brethren.'"
"Tres bein," replied Ned, good-humor
ly. "I will tell you a fix, a clerical oue
to boot; moreover, it is the biggest one
I was ever in, and yet it ended so advan
tageously as to start me well in life."
A CLERICAL FIX
Just after I was married, I took the
curacy—a sole charge—of B , in
Warwickshire. I resided in the rectory,
the rector himself being obliged to live
in the south of France. Callers of course
came, but, owing to one circumstonce and
another, we missed seeing most of them.
Before we had started on our round of
returning visits, I received a friendly note
from Mr. Chilmark, a vicar in the neigh
borhood, stating that, in former times, he
had known my father at college; that he
had the rural dean and a few friends com
ing to dine with- him on such a day, and
that if my wife and I would waive cere
mony, (we had not then returned his call,)
Mrs. Chilmark and he would be much
pleased if we would jqin their dinner par
ty. I should remark that my wife and I
had never seen Mr. or Mrs. Chilmark ; we
were out in the parish when they called
on us. They lived about three miles on
the other side of the town of W—,
from which we lived two miles distant.—
In those days, I did not keep a close car
riage, but. drove my wife in an open wa
gonette. I did not know the country at
all well ; but having studied the' map, and
got directions from an acquaintance, I
had little doubt that, with the help of a
young moon, I should find my way.
It so happened that the night of No
vember 17th, 185—, was very foggy ; the
moon was hardly of any use to us. We
could find our way to the town of W--
all right, because it was a turnpike road,
and I was acquainted with it; but with
regard to the other side of the town and
the cross-roads, I hardly knew what to
do. I made up my mind to see if I could
get on at. all ; -and if I found myself in the
least degree puzzled, 1 determined to go
back, and get a hostler from the, town, to
act as guide. As we were leaving W—,
and about to drive through a turnpike,
a well appointed carriage overtook ,as,
and-pulsed through the gate just before
us. I asked the woman, at the gate
whose carriage it. was. "Mr. Singleton's,"
she replied. "How fortunate f' exclaim
ed my wife; "that is the rural dean. We
know he.is going to dine with the. Chid
marks ;. so you have only 'to follow elose
1 11/1T; him, And , we AWL be,all, sight;';'- , ;
lieSui.gagoa .toy wife's brie:4looo;4op,
. .. • . • •
I did follow the carriage," and that - close
ly. Luckily, my horse Wtll3 a good one.
Occasionally, when near water, we seem
ed to be plunging.through darkness, so
thick was the fog. However, all. went
well ; and at last I was glad to follow
the carriage before me through an ave
nue up to a large house, whose hall was
blazing with-light, and .resplendent with
the, liveries of the servants. We did, not
take much notice then of these things ;
but, as I divested ,myself of my wraps,
and my wife was putting herself straight
in some back room, I could not help' en
vying Mr. Chilmark, and thinking that
his living must. be an excellent good one,
as he was able to have things is such
In a few minutes we were ushered into
the drawing room, the butler making,
as usual, some blunder about our names
when announcing us. Mr. and Mrs.
Chilmark came forward and kindly ac
costed us. My wife was installed on a
sofa near the fire, and I formed one of a
knot of gentlemen lounging in the back
ground. We were a large party, about
twenty in number; and as the butler
left the room, I thought I heard Mrs.
Chilmark give the order "dinner." A
few dull moments, as usual, before that
meal, when suddenly an electriCal shock
of a curious nature was communicated to
the majority assembled in the drawing
room. The door was opened, and instead
of dinner being announced, thst butler
ushered in Mr. and Mrs. Templeton.—
There did not appear to me to be any
thing unusual in this, but evidently a
great commotion was created. Persons
looked curiously at my wife and myself,
and at last Mr. Chilmark touched me on
the shoulder, saying : "May I speak a
word with you in the library ?" I fol
lowedi'and noticed my host, in crossing
the hall, say something to one of the ser
vants. - .
As soon as we were closeted together,
Mr. Chilmark's manner changed at once.
"Now, sir," said he to me, "what is the,
meaning of ail ,
this ? Who are you real
ly ? Where do you come from ?"' Of
course I was surprised ; and wishing my
father's peppery friend, Mr. Chilmark, at
the very opposite side of the globe, I
calmly stated who I was, and reminded
him or his invitation.
"I invite you, sir l" be roared ; you—
you—you—." He bit his lips to check
his angry words.
"Yes, sir," I replied. "fort - MI .
you as k - en - gm Air. Singleton, the rural
dean, and I have come, not exactly with
him, but just. after him."
"Stop, sir ; no more lies."
"Excuse me, sir," I replied, "one more
word and I have done. Either you are
prematurely drunk or you are mad. Ido
not care to dine with either drunkard or
madman. I shall call my wife out of the
drawing room, andibeg to wish you good
"Excuse me, sir," he hissed through
his teeth, while he placed himselfbetween
me and the door; "you will not get off
so easily, young man."
Now this was a pleasant predicament
thus to be closeted with a mad man.
"Pray, may I ask what on earth you
mean ?" said I. ,
"Pray, may I ask what on earth you
mean ?" he replied. "Do you know who
I am ? where you are ?"
"Yes ; you are Mr. Chilmark, the rect
or of -, a very old friend of my fa
ther, the late Mr. Temple ,Of -; I
am standing in your libaary at your rec
tory, baving . been - asked bere, to dine
and upon my: ward, the sooner I get out
of your hospitable house, and cut your
acquaintance for good, the better I shall
He grinned horribly as I spoke, and
said : "I am Lord Claydon. This is
Claydon Castle. I never asked you to
dine; and, in short, you are a scamp. I
have alreidy sent for a policeman, and
till be arrives, you shall not leave this
"'Well," thought I, "thank goodness,
he has sent for a policeman ; so ere long
I shall get, rid of this mad man's society."
What to do, I knew not. I fixed my eye
on him, and tried to master him by star
ing him out of countenance. We were
both silent for a few moments. At last
my friend said to me : "Your tale is in
genious, young man ; but it breaks down.
If you were going to dine with Mr. Chi'.
mark at, rectory, how came you
to be here, a distance of six miles from
your pretended destination ?"
I then explained that I knew the rural
dean, Mr. Singleton, was going to dine
with Mr. Chilmark—that I was a strang
er in the county, and was not acquainted
with the roads—that the turnpike woman
told me it was Mr. Singleton's carriage
which passed us at the gate, and that I
had followed it, and consequently found
myself where 1 now was.
Light began to dawn somewhat upon
the obfuscated senses of both of us.. It
struck me that my supposed madman was
in all probability Lord Claydon, and that
in some way I had missed my leading
carriage in the fog, or something of that
kind. It began to strike the gentleman
opposite that possibly after all I might
net be an imposter. Lord Claydon—for
so I,must call him—then mid,: "Yam
i e. bat= you , are Mr. . 'Temple; .the
new enrateo. Wlmalirocifs ae
IVOLUME XXV, NTIMBER 27.
you give me that you are what - you rep.
" Plenty,lo-morrow," replied I; "but
trot-many-at present.- -Look-at me—do I
not appear u a clergyman and - ,a ;Katie
man?" -- ---,. - :-,..,__:,
"I want more proof," said Lord Clay
don, with a frown.
" Proof I" replied I. "Ask your friends
if a Mr. Temple has not recently become
curate of —"
" 0, very likely ; but, I want proof ill's,
you are that Mr. Temple."
"Proofs, man l" I cried, getting very
impatient: " Why, what am Ito do? I
cannot refer you to my mother, for she is
not, here, and my wife's evidence I sup
pose not admissible. I can on only offer
as proof, my handkerchief, my stockings,
and the tail of my shirt." So saying, I tn.
dignantly pulled out my handkerchief and
threw it on the table. Lord Claydon care
lessly glanced at. it,...,and then smiling,
showed me "E. H. C." embroidered in
the corner. To my intense annoyance. I
saw that my wife had placed in my pocks t
a fine scented handkerchief of her Own. I
was not pleased at this, but explained the
matter to Lord Claydon, and said :
"It really looks awkward; but I may
beg you to examine my stockings, and the
tail of my shirt. My wife's stockings
would not fit me, and she can hardly have
a shirt made like this."
So saying, I began to kick off my Wel
lington boot. .
Lord Claydon interrupted me : "My
dear sir, I cannot allow that. Be kind en
ough to forgive and excuse me for what
has taken place. I could not subject a
gentleman to the test you propose ; and if
I have by any chance been taken in again"
—and he laughed —" all I can say is, I
have been deceived by the moat perfect
fac simile of a gentlemau.'"
" Come:Ned, draw it, mild," suggested
" Well," returned Ned, "those Were
the words be used, and a s he spoke be
held out his hand : 'Forglye_me, will
you?' Ourbands met in a mutual squee.se.
He sat for a moment at the table, wrote a
hasty note, and then taking my arm with
in his, led me to tlie drawing room. As
be crossed the hall,the gave the note to a
servant, with a message, of which all
caught, was : ' Give that to
A few moments after we entered the
drawing room dinner was announced.—
Lord Claydon took my wife in, and I had
. pan b cut,' Tny
care, and found myself in a prominent po
tion at the table. The first glass of cham
pagne bad just been handed around,when
in a kind of stage ,ribisper, the butler an'
notinced to Lord Claydon
The policeman has come, my lord."
His lordship bit his lip, and looked
sheepish, but said nothing.
After . dinner, a note was handed to him.
He haqtily scanned it, and at once rose
and said :
" At an ordinary dinner party speeches
are detestable, and the drinking of bealthe
a thing of bygone days; snd yet I must
make the one, andpropose the other.—
Lady Claydon and I had asked our nest
neighbors, Mr. and Mis. Templeton to
dine here to-day. We had not met on
the occasion of our calling, but 1 bad bad
Mr. Templeton pointed out to me in the
street. When Mr. and Mrs. Temple were
introduced, I naturally concluded they
were Mr. and Mrs. Templeton, especially
as my butler mumbled the name, though
I confess that Mr. Temple hardly appear
ed to me as the same person who had
been pointed out to me in the street as
Mr. Templeton. However, persona look
very differently by candlelight and by
daylight. When Mr. and' Mrs. Temple
ton were afterwards ushered into the
drawing room, I was astonished. I at.
once recognized Mr. Templeton as the
gentleman who had been pointed out Co
me under that name.
The 'question of course arose, who can
Mr. Temple be ? He must' be an impos
ter. We adjourned to my library, and a
discussion took place between us, weich,
on my part, was certainly more animated
than polite. It ended in my being quite
satisfied that Mr. 'temple was a gentle
man, though how be came to my house I
cannot exactly understand. I wrote a
hurried line to Mr. Chilmark just before
dinner, and I have got an answer to the
effect that Mr. Temple was to have dined
with him to-day, butithat he is_ glad to
learn that by secidentle is enjoying what
Mr. Chilmark is pleased to call the superi
or hospitality of Claydon castle. As to
superior hospitalities, all I can say is, that
I most sincerely hope Mr. Temple will
kindly fbrgive my inhospitable treatment
of him before dinner. I will' make him the
most. ample apology te likes for my un
courteous suspicion; and let me add for his
information—for the rest of you have
heard the story—that my, uncourteous
suspicion arose from the fact of a well got
up, gentlemanly clergytnan calling here a
few days ago with his wife, at luncheon
time. He represented himself as being
tba secretary tor the society for —, ex
hibited his receipt book, anthalked
ly of matters and persons connected with
the society. The end pf the affair was,
that be and his wife lunched here. I paid
him a cheek Tor five hundred pounds, be.
ing a legag.lately. left by friend,
to tha4ixaety: sthißlitunately, for moi l . '
.otigirdterre p ool ;?„..