- Wm, 0 Cruiser
B. B. Hawley,
E. B. HAWLEY & CO.,
PUBLISUERS Or
TIM ENTRE DEMUR,
AND GENERAL JOB PRINTERS,
Montrose, Susquehanna County, Pa
Omen—West 81de of Public Avenue
Business Cards.
J: ct A. 11. McCOLLUM,
Arms"», at Law OM» over the Bank, Montrose
Pe. Montrose, May 10, 1871. It
D. W. SEARLE,
TTOIITIET AT LAW, °Mee over the Store of 11.
Dessaaer. I a the Brick Illoelt,Mottrole.fht. Nal 69
W. W. SMITH,
BINET AND CRAM YANDPACTURKRB.—Poo
of Meta street. Montroate. Pa. lang. 1. 18G9.
H. C. SUTTON,
A COTIONKEIt, and Isstramma Aar r,
so astf Frlendrirllle, Pa.
AMI ELT,
UNITED STATES AUCTIONEER,
♦se. 1, 1169. Address, Brooklyn, Pa
J. C. WHEATON',
Cam, Fareseriaa Aso LAND SIDIYIIOII,
P. 0, address, Franklin Forks,
Susquehanna Co., Pa
JOHN ORO VES,
A s EtIONABLE TAILOR, Montrose, A. Shop over
Cbandier's Store. AP orders filled in drateate
cutting done on abort notice. and warranted to fit.
A. 0. TVARREN,
TTORNWIt AA' LAW. Bounty, Back PAY, Pension
-and game: on Claims attended to. Office
..sr below Boyd's Store, Montroee-Pa. (Au. 1,'69
W. A. CROSSMON,
ttorney at Lew, Office et the Cot Rolm% In the
commissioner's OMlee. W. ♦. Cnossion.
Montrose, Sent. SUL 1871.—tt.
MeKENZIE, tf , CO.
Dea:ert In Dry Goods, Clothing, Ladles and Misses
fur tihnee. Also, agent. for the great American
Tes and Coffee Company. [Montrose, July r, `:3,)
LIB" OFFICE.
f ITr9 b WATRON, Attorneys at Law, at tho old office
et Bentley Se Pitch. Montroee, Pa.
I. F. Frye.. Van.ll. '7LI V. R. WATSON.
ABEL TURRELL,
e der le Drags 31mile - ince, Chenackla Paints, 011 e,
Dye studs, Teas, nplees, Fancy Goods, Jewelry P.
lamery, Cc., Brick Block, Montrose, Pa. Established
1 4VI [Feb. 1, Dna.
tirOVILL & DEII7TT.
ABornoy. at tom and ~ tollcltor. In Bankruptcy. OITIrc
tin. 49 Court Strout, uvvr City Nutlo.l Bank. 14. g.
bAtuton, N. Y. WK. 11.8cortt.t.,
= E i MI
DR W. L. RICHARD,9O,II,,
CrITSICIAN a,SURGEON, tender, his proferelons
scrrlce.to Oic citizens oniouttuse and vicinity.—
ihne st bisr.eider ;a, ou Ota CUrUcr MIMI of Sayrt
Ito, Pound, [Ana. 1. 1569.
CHA RISS STODD A RD
lan'er to Boots nod Shot,. Hato and Caps, Leather tine
r,tatogn, Maio Street, let door below Boyd's Store.
Work made to order. and repairing done neatly.
Itur.trose Jan. 1 Ina.
LEWIS KNOLL,
SHAVING AND HAIR DRESSING.
D Cop :o the new Poetottlce ttildinc. where be will
at rouud toady to attend all who may want ailythiny
1, 416 WI, Montrone Fa. Oct. tB.
DR S. W. DAYTON,
i'IIYSICIAN At SURGEON, tenders hls services to
Inv taisens of Great Bend and vicinity. Gravest
~.11111CTICt. opposite Butium Rouse, O't Bend village.
seri. Ist, I9ll.—tr
DR D. A. LATHROP,
A ni sisters Euscron Totax.t. Bat os. a ;se Foot of
sellout street. Call and cosset to a.. 1 almalc
otseases.
Montrose. Jan.
iß:E=l!'4!
H. BURRITT.
eater at Staple •ad Fancy On hooda, Crockery, turd
ale. Iron, Stoves, Drag, Oils. and Paints, Boot,
vd Shoe., Oats and Cap., Furs, BaCalo Rohe.. Gro
ceries. Provisions. de.
Nes.-)1tIlord, 1 a., Nor, 6, "72—tf.
EXCHANGE HOTEL
31 I HAR17.13717T077 wfithes to inform thephlaTtethat
banns rented the Exchange Hotel to Moutrore. he
now prepared No accost ..date the traveling p bl
Iv nracla.e rtyle
, ntrore. Aug. 33. 1873.
LITTLE:S & BLAIrEstEr
ATTORNEYS &T LAW. have removed to their Nero
OP., opposite the 'Yalta Rouse
. .
BILLINGS STRO UD.
FIRE AND LIFE INSUAANCE AGENT. A
ousluessattended to promptly, on bar terms. Otter
trot door east of the hank or Wee. 11. Cooper A Co.
.nhlle Avenue, Montrose, PA. [Aug. I. ISO .
J
my IT. PIM.] 1:W.3.M0. STROUD.
B. 7'. d E. H. CA3E,
111RNE ,, 3-1 , 4A KERS. 0* Marne', light and heavy
•I lueh•t cash pricer•. Also, Blankets, Breast Olen.
lorts. Wipe and everything pertaining. to tha line
cheaper than the cheapest. itepalrtng done prompt
ly and In good style.
Mont. - ose, Pa.. Oct. V. 183.
CHARLEY MORRIS
TRR HAYTI BARBER. has moved his shop to the
buirdin: occupied by E. McKenzie d Co.. wb.•re be Is
prepared to du si I kinds of work in his line,soeh &amo
k lug switches. pods. etc. All work done on short
canoe and prices low. Please call and see me.
THE PEOPLE'S MARKET.
PHILLIP illansr. Proprietor.
Flesh and Salted bleats, Dame, Pork. Bologna San-
Far, of the best quality, constantly on hand, at
•aIL
Mont,se, Ps,. Jan. 14. 1873.-Is
VALLEY 110 USE,
Ungar Bern, Pa. 81teated near the Erie Railway De
pot Is a large nee commodious house. has undergoes
• thoroctqh repair. Newly garnished rooms and sleep
to g apartmentw,aplerlld tablas.a od all things compris
lag a fist gloss hotel. MENET ACKERT.
Peet. 10th, 16r3.-tf. Proprietor.
F. crtußcHaL,
;Renee of the Peace: office over L. S. Lehhetm'• store
Great Bead borough, Susquehanna County. Penn's.
Has the settlement of the dockets of the late Lease
Ittekhow. deCessed. Office hours from 9to 12 o'clock
s. m.. sod from I to 4 Co'cloCk p.
Onset Seed, Oct. Sd, 18:2.
DR. W. W. EMITS,
eirrtsr. Roams at his dwelling. next door north of Dr.
Halsey's, on Old Foundry street, when, be would be
happy to see all those in want of Dental K Gra. Re
feel. confident that he can pie Ise all. boat In qaallty of
ours and in price. Office bourn from 9 a.m. to 4 r. i.
Montrose. Feb. 11. 1811-0
EDGILE 4. TV22IIELL,
MT M=:2
No. 173 B . roadvray , New York City.
Attends to all kinds or Attointy Bush:leas, Lad COO
&mt. ennses la all the Courts of both the State and the
Colted Statue.
Feb it, Ira -ty.
BUR-V 8 d NICIIOI,S.
in Drugs, Medicines. Chemicals. Dye
.L.,ns. Cairo...olls, Varnish. Liquors, Splces,Fitney
art .cir2.l`stentitledicines, Perfumery and Toiletar
e,s, LVT•Preseriptions carofully compounded.—
Brlck Block, Mokt2Cie, PI.
Bolus.
.eb. 21. 1212
1011 parwrveGv
Tap OFFICE, CUES,P,
%%stow we. •
MONTROSE DEMOCRAT.
TWO DOLLARS PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
VOLUME 31.
-0-
LY ILAZGA REY 1. PRESTON
—o—
When any task my hands essay,
Wherewith to fill the eager day,
There rises to my thoughts alway,
The hindering question ; "Whence the need
Of this thy lightly-weighted deed?
Forgo it,—and who taketh heed?
Perform it,—who will praise or blame,
Though it be wrought with purest aim
—Done cr undone, 'tis all the same.
It cannot surely much behoove,
In tby life's so narrow grove,
Thou inovest, or thou dost not move.
Amid the thousand myriad lives
That overcrowd earth'a humming hives,
What matter if no work survives
Of thy small doings?—Who counts, alas!
One cricket chirping In the grass
The less, when time cloth pass!
So,—keep thy song unwritten ; spare
To spill thy music in the air ;
Let be the stainless canvas bare!
The world is over-leaved with speech,
And who so out of wisdom reach,
Aa yet to lack what thou eans't teach?"
—0 poor, proud reasoning ! Shall the spray
Of , tern bt%tcle the boulder grey,
Threaded with morning—opals, say,—
"Whole winged flocks their nests have made
In your great oak : Why should my blade
Afford an humble-bee its shade?"
Or the light breeze sigh ;—"Lotal and deep
The mountain winds thro' forests sweep;
Must I just rock one rote asleep!"
Or glow-worm murmur :—"So divine,
tin Hooding, sunlight's, moonlight's sliMe,—
What needs this moth with gleam of mine?
Beciuse our music is not keyed
Beethoven-wlse,—thercrore, indeed,
We scorn to blow our oaten reed!
Because we may not counterpart
The dance and trance of Shakespeare's art
We'll stoop to soothe nu aching heart !
Nock-meekness nil! There (loth not live
Any se poor. but ti e may give,—
Any so rich, but may receive.
M=MICIM
Withhold the very meag'rest dole
fiends can bestow, in part or whole
And we may stint a starving soul,
What then ? It some poor song of mine,
Should yet prevail to bring the shine
Back o'er one spirit's dull decline,—
And for nruoinent seem to fling
A flash about its sun-selling.
—I think (God grunting,) may sing !
MISCELLANEOUS READING
A SENSATIONAL DRAMA
Mr. Earnest Lyttleton, of the Temple
London, was ii- author. by choice rather
than necessity. He pleased himself to
think that he was drawn or driven to ht
erature by the sheer force of inspiration
of genius. fie had some at.nual income
independent of any literary earnings,
wt ich was perhaps fortunateon one sense
seeing that his literary earnings were not
great. In another sense, however, it may
have been unfortnnate ; for if lie had ic
live by authorship he might have made a
better success. He was thirty years old,
good looking, and active. He could do
many things very well. He was great at
athletic exercises, played several instru
ments, and wrs;an excellent amateur actor.
3tr, Ernest Lyt tletnti's literary efforts
were varied. He had published a volume
of essays which recetvel high commenda
tion from the best critics,auld lay a ni"tion
less load on the shelves of the publisher.
He wrote three novels, each in a different
style, and each in itself was admirable, but
just wanting that little something which
ensures success.
tiro. P LITTLE.
E. L. FILKEEn.r.z
They received high and just encomi
ums from the critics, and then success•
fully tell dead. He wrote a very clever
' little comedy, which was played with
great success in private,but.being brought
on the stage, proved a failure. Then he
thought be would redeem the sinking
drama of his country, and he wrote a
really fine and poetic play, full of thought
and pathos, and even passion. But he
had forgotten that a drama. now must be
written to snit the peculiarities of the
leading actors. The leading lady said
she couldn't see herself in the part of Lyt
tleton's heroine. The piece was played
six nights, and then withdrawn.
Our hero began to think it was time to
reconsider his position. He made six dis
tinctive efforts at success, and decisively
failed in each. He began to grow ashamed
of himself, cynical and moody. Ho had
thought of marrying, but though he lik
ed ever to many women, he did not love
any particular, one better than the rest.
He thought of trying to go into Parlia
ment, only he reflected that he would be
certain either to loose the election, or, if
elected to prove a dead failure in the
House. Lyttleton had friends, social po
sition, health, talent and money, and yet
life began to look very dreary to hnn.
Men like him are more often in the mood
which leads to suicide than the world, or
I even perhaps the men themselves are
aware of. Wandering one day in an op
pressed and weary condition, out from
his chambers in the Temple, Earnest Lye.
Beton lost himself in a maze of narrow
streets where only poor people lice. They
were the oddest streets such as only the
old parts of London can show. Here
you see the remains of what had evident.
ly once been a stately palace. Perhaps
some Sorry, or Leicester, or Percy once
occupied it when the way in front was
clear to the river. Now a separate family
swarmed on every floor, and clothes-lines
hung out of its corneesed windows. Next
to it was a regular little rural cottage,
with red tiles On the roof, and a porch,
and a window on either side of the porch
tiles, porch and windows, now all smoke
grimmed and dectiyin t Tap town had
grown around this ontfaile, built it
in, blocked it up §n4 otiolood it helpless'
there, like the pptty bride of the ballad
in the old nal/ otioek 4 lbw of the
houses had Bills Poort yard§ ill front.
Others rooked forward, bolgioft Into the
narrow street, like, shabby imittithins of'',.
the leaning tower of NA, Of course
there was the usual portion of gin-shops,
The Smallest London - streets seem to re.
quire at least three glg,shops tutllpplyite
Peals,: tit even the gin.ibop ticrQ pa
Altos Azasola
POETRY.
THE GOOD OF IT,
M M!
MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, MAY Gi 1874.
took of the quaint character of the place.
They were not flashy and pretentious in
stitutions, sparkling with cyrstal chande
hers, and served by young ladies in black
silk and chignons. They were small,
dark, ancient structnies,with a step down
at the entrance, by virtue of which the
incautious visitor sometimes presented
himself head foremost. The entire thor
oughfare seemed to end in one darkling
public house—to close, finish, and die
there. But when you come quite near,
you found that a narrow archway, open
ing through the public house. adm•tted
the passenger to the outer world again.
Mr. Lyttleton was drawn, despite of
himself and his own grievances, to ob
serve the place around him. "People
really live hero !" he thought. ''They
struggle here, and have their ambitions
and failures, and make love and are lov
ed. and win their success or are utterly
t:iscomfitted, just as everywhere else. 1
should like to know something of a life
in a place such as this." Glancing up
ward he caught a glimpse of a window
in one of the largest and oldest houses,
where there was some attempt at at orna
mental blind, and certainly a box of flow;
era ; and he thought what a pieture,what
a story Dickens would have mule even
out of a glimpse like that. He thought
Df another great artist—perhaps a greater
artist —iu the same field of art; he re
membered George Sands's poor Genevieve
with her flowers. "There may be a ro
mance or a drama in that house," he
thought for anybody who has the wit to
find rt.' chen suddenly it flashed upon
him that perhaps his own lack of liter
ary and dramatic success had been owing
to the fact that he never mingled with
read life outside of hie own little circle ;
that sitting in the library or smoking
room of his club, he had spun plots and
people, romances and snfferinga. ont of
his own brain and the circling cloud of
his own cigar.
••Whv can't I go and lire there for a
while r thought onr hero, looking up
again at the large, grim old house which
had the box of .flowers it, the tipper win
dow. "Why can't I go there and live
there as the petple do, and steep myself
in the atmoophere and life of the place,
and find some genuine materials there ?
I'll try it ! I'll plunge into some hew
condition of life, here or elsewhere in the
search of the romantic. as Dr. Syntax
went in sean•h of the picturesque."
Ile emerged into» broader street, hail
ed a passing cab, and went home.
An interval of some weeks may be sup
posed to have occurred when the cur ain
again rises on the life of Swordblude al
ley—for such is the name of the quaint
and narrow street which has just been
described. The place, though miserably
poor, was not uproarious, or drunken, or
squalid. There was an air of hard and
painful work about it, but also uu ap
pearance of decency.
The house with tile ornamental blind
or attempt nt one, and the box of &were
had many lodgers. On the ground fluor
lived a gold beater and his family. One
flour above were lodg-d a p‘istman and
his household ; at the rear a bill sticker
and his wife and children. Higher up
again, a little colon, of artisans. Still
higher were the two little rooms, in the
Inuit one of which was the box of flow
ers ; and over this again under the sky
line, lodged, in seperate rooms, two
young. men.
lite room with the flowers were ocen.
pied by two sisters, one a little girl of
twelve and the other some three-and.
twen•y. Three-and-twenty worked for
both, the work being the nicking of arti
ficial flowers. Three-and-twenty had a
fine, tall figure, a handsome face and fair
hair She was dressed in very poor black
clothes, was marvellously neat for such a
place. and had white hands, which even
her work did not spoil. She was called
Annie Prince, her sister, Nellie Prince.
They were orphans, and alone in the
world. It was summer, and the heat is
stifling. The window is open, and the
door is partly open. The little room in
which the sisters are sitting has only two
or three chairs, a table, and a shabby old
sofa in it ; but it is clean and well kept.
Their only apartment is a little bed-room
Annie Prince sits at the window working
away. There is little to distract her at
tention, for the only view is across into
the bed-room window of some lodgers
over the way, where washing is taken in,
and the room is perfectly festooned inside
with drying noder-garmetfts, of Into the
room below. It is near noon, and most
of the population are away at their work
and the lane is lonely.
Suddenly Annie having looked out,
draws in ber head. albeit dashed with a
certain tone of alarm. "0, Nellie dear,
please shut the door e
Annie's lap is incumbered with her
work and site cannot well get up and shut
the door for herself. Nellie is busy on
the floor with some scraps of green and
crimson, and is in no baste to move.
"Nellie dear, George Ransom is coining
up, and I don't want to see bim."
But a step is heard on the stairs now
so near that to shut the door might be
like an act of rudeness. People can't
keep to themselves always in such places
as this, and so Annie checked her sister,
who scrambled up to shut out the visitor.
A tall young man stands in the doorway.
He is yellow bearded and rather hand
some, but there is a vague suggestion of
dissipation about his whole appearance,
and his pale gray eyes seem ill to bear
the sunshine.
"Good morning. Miss Prince," he says
with a dash of sarcasm and an air of
mock deference.
"Good morning, George. How soon
yon have come back l"
"Yes ; I've a holiday to-day, and, by
JOye, I mean to use it, too I Look here
Annie ; I want to take you and Nellie to
Greenwich.
Nellie's face beamed with delight for a
moment;bralthen ti wasqnicklycast down
as she noted her sister's expression. An
nie shook her head.
• PI am sorry, Qeorge, but I have no end
of work to do, and I can't
vOan't go ! Oh, stuff ! you know you
could go. It's only working double twice
tomorrow and the day after:*
0 1 can't go, (huge.
Devoted to the Interests of our Town and County.
"You won't go,vou mean ; that's about
the sizi of it I Now look here, Annie,
this won't do ; no, by Jove, it won't !
You are treating me badly, and I don't
mean to stand it You know I needn't
he in this beastly old place at all if it
wasn't for you ! Hang it I the fellows I
know don't live in this sort of place !"
"I know you need not live here, and I
wish you wouldn't. The place is poor
and miserable, and I wished you not to
follow tue."
"But I will follow yon until yon marry
me Yon said you would."
"Oh, no, indeed !"
"Well, as good as said it, when your
lather was alive, and when ho asked you.
Yea, you did. Well, you didn't say you
wouldn't. What have you got against
me ? Look here, lam making two
pounds, aye, three pounds sometimes, a
week, and I can afferd to marry, and keep
you and Nellie too. What have you to
say against me ?"
He came into the room and caught
her wrist.
"George,'—her tears were rising fast,—
'I never promised you, never, indeed !
Bat you know that I don't like your ways
of late. You spend your time badly, you
are out late. and vout—you—"
"I drink too much, I suppose, do I ?
Well, I do drink a little now and then
but:who's fault is that ? It's your own
you drove me to it l"
She shook her head. "No, no, George;
the only time when I thought I might
have been willing to marry you was the
very time when I first noticed all this
and that world have pnt me against mar
rying you, if nothing else did.'
"But suppose I promise—suppose L
take my oath that ) ! wont drink too
much "?'
She shook her head again. "Oh do,for
the sake of our old times, let me alone
Don't torment yourself and me. I can
never marry you !"
"Nellie, look here, you run into the
other room. See, here's a penny; go and
buy an orange."
Nellie ran away delighted before her
sister could interfere. But Annie Prince
was not afraid of her lover.
"Now, Annie I omit know all about
this ! Who's the man that has come in
side me with you ? I mutt know ! I
had a good chance with you one time.
but you have changed to me lately. and
sonic other f. has caused it. If 1 ev
er know him ! Tell me his name !"
ILis nmaner grew menacing and fierce,
but (he girl wits perfectly calm. She was
about to answer, when a clear tenor voice
wus heard singing on the stairs and the
tread of a than rapidly ascending ; and
then all at ones Annie Prince did start,
and the real blood rushed into her face
A young mar. with a moustache, and
wearing a rap. paused the threshold,look
ed in, seemed about to enter, then drew
hack, nodded pleasantly to George, took
off his cop to Annie, and bounded up the
stairs t i the highest floor.
George Ransom li - inked fixedly at An
nie's still crimson cheek and doworast
eyes, and was silent for a moment. Then
lie said :
"Let's 13Sy no more about it, Annie just
now. Will yon come to Greenwich with
m , —yes or no r
"Ni', George. I can't go.
lle Glen-bed his teeth fast, muttered
something to himself, and sullenly Jett
the room. Ile Irmt down stairs, went
out, crossed the street to the Gray Mare.
a public house over the way, having
called f"r some drink, took a place be.
hind the worn and discolored old curtain
once red, that screened the parlor win
dow.
Down to Annie's room presently came
the young man of the tenor voice. He
tapped at her d00r,., which now s he had
closed. Annie did not call 'come" in but
went to the door and opened it.
"Oh Claude e
"Dear Annie, I have come to take you
for a promenade.' the young man said in
accents epperently foreign, although his
English is quite good. 'But I would not
intrude while you had company. We
will go—you and Nellie and I—to the
Crystal Palace. and you shall enjoy the
fresh air, and Nellie shall go in a swing.
and eat cake and drink ginger beer, and
ride on a velocipede if she likes ; and you
and I will sit on the grass—'
'Oh' but, Claude, I can't go ! George
Ransom was here just now, and—and he
wanted ns lo go to Greenwich with him.
'Diable! Confound his impudence!' I am
too busy—indeed, I am. But when I re
fused poor George, I couldn't go with
any body else—now could I 1 And, o',
please. Claude don't stay, and don't be
seen ; for I am afraid r
'Afraid 1 Of what ? Of that fellow ?
,No not that, I am afraid of your be
ing seen here,'
'Come with me, child', the young man
said, gaily nutting abort her fear,and put
ting one arm around her waist while she
tried, not very vehemently to get away
'Come to the Crystal Palace,and hear the
birds sing Yon are looking palo and
thin, and Nellie too. Come I have a hol
iday, and money m'amie, and I can't en
joy it without You ! Tiens ! Ltoo,am pale
and worn.
,Yea indeed, you are, Claude. Why are
you so pale !'
'Want of air, child, and enjoyment
and J can't have either without you.
Come I put your hat on. and come.'
Femme qui park—woman who deliber
ates ! Annie looked into Clande's face,
thought he looked pale. thought she ought
to make him happy for one day—him
and her sister Nellie, of course—and she
dropped her eyes, pat on her bonnet, and
went with her lover to the Crystal Palace.
The moment they came down the dark
ling stairs of the old house to go en their
way. and emerged into such light as shone
on Swordblade Alley, George Ransom
started in his seat and sprang to his feet.
They passed out of the alley, and he
lowed them at some distance. Through
all crowds, through all turnings, he track
ed them ;and when they reached the Lon
don Bridge railway station. and entered
the railway carriage to go to Crystal Pal.
ace, be got into another carriage and fol
lowed them still.
Oh, what a happy day for dear, good
Annie Price I since the death of her fa-
ther had left her quite an orphan, and
sent her to make her hard living in
Swordblade Alley, she bad bad no such
day as this, Her life hid lo'g been very
weary and sad. A beam of warm sunshine
stole in upon her when theyoung Frenc h
workman, Claude Copin,came to lodge in
the same house with her, and they be
came acquainted and friendly, and she
grew to like him very much. He was so
handsome, so graceful, so like a gentle
man ; and Annie had still the memories
of days when she knew people of better
inteligence and moaners than the people
of Swordblade Alley. And he was so
frank, bright and winsome. She never
•
felt more than a sort of kindly toleration
for George Ransom, and of late how coarse
and selfish he appeared ! She was not
given to questioning her own heart, but
she knew that she loved Claude Copin,
and she hoped, she thought ah, she
firmly believed—that he loved her. lie
has not said so yet ; and ho certainly nev
er talked of marrying. But she had no
faint murmur even of distrust within her;
she looked into his eyes. and, save for
some vagr.e lingering fear of George Ran
som, she was nappy.
Tho bright air, the soft, sweet English
landscape, the crowds, the music, the
statues, the place, and the frequent op.
portumies for a seclusion which was al
most as good as a tele a tele made the
girl as gladsome as a bird. Claude Cop
in too was very happy, wondering, per
haps, sometimes within himself why be
was so happy, but distinctly conscious of
the new indiscribable scene of joy. Little
Nellie, we may be sure, was not the least
delighted of the group. She got so many
cakes and fruit to cut that she could not
help Raying :
'Mr. Cofan where ever do yon get all
such lots of money ?'
'Olt. Nellie, for sh.rre ?' her sister in
terposed.
•lint this is holiday, Madamoieetle Nel
lie ,' Cupin gaily answered. 'When one
makes a holiday ono. does not think of
keiiiping his money.'
In the course of their rambles Claude
remembered that he had protnised to buy
something for Nellie at one of the stalls,
and as it was some distance away he of
f•ted to run back for it, leaving the sis
ters together. As he run gaily across the
sward to the'piace of glass, Annie gazed
tenderly after him. She suddenly started,
for she fancied she saw George Ransom
conic out Irom a clump of trees and fol
low her lover. But she quickly settled in
her own mind that it must be her imag
ination- —that her interview with Ransom
that morning had left a distuedng im
pression on her.
She was right, however, in her first
thocght ; for as Claude was entering the
palace, and was quits out of sight, a
heavy hand grasped his shoulder' and
when he turned round he saw the face of
George Ransom.
„Now. then,' said Ransom' furiously:
'l've followed von about all day for this,
I didn't want to make a row before her.
Are yougoing to fight like a min ?'
'Fight ? De Grace ! for what, my
friend ?'
'Talk English. Yon talk it well
enough to her. Yon understand it,anyhow;
But I don't understand you.'
"Don't yon ? Then I'll make myself
very plain. See here, you've coma be
tween me and that girl, I've loved her for
years. I love the very ground sbe walks
on, and the rags she throws away when
she makes her flowers ! She would have
come to love me and to marry me, only
von come between us; and you mustgive
her up, for I must have revenge."
“litnsom," he said, speaking very
gravely, and drawing his excited rival in
to a secluded corner of the court in which
they stood, "I have done you no harm, I
don't want to hurt your feelings, but I
must tell you that if I were never in the
world she would not marry yon. It is no
fault of mine, I saw that before I ever
thought of marrying her—l mean' before
I ever was friendly with her. It's only
your ill luck, man. Stand up like a man
and bear it."
"Note bit of it I I'll not bear it !
You've deceived and bedeviled the girl
with your French mar nere and false
tongue ! Why,yon only have known ber,a
few weeks, and I've known her for yeara!
Will you fight me ?"
"Here—in the Crystal Palace ! On a
shining day ! And the police all around!'
Copin could not help looking amazed at
the idea, and h's expression of counte
nance only still further infuriated his op
ponent.
"I'll show yon a quiet place down yon
der behind the cricket ground, where we
can have it out without any one seeing
us."
"But, my good fellow, what confound
ed nonsense"
"Yon French coward, you can't fight
—you don't know how ; von're afraid !
But I'll make you fight : I'll knock you
down and kick you here on this spot I"
"Ransom my worthy friend," said Cop
in, with a face now quite
,calm and set
tled, "if you will make a fool of yourself,
I can't help yon. We had better both
make fools cf ourselves in seclusion than
just here. Come along, if you will have
it, I'll try to show you that I can fight,
even if I am a Frenchman."
Ransom's eyes beamed with a savage
delight. The two men then walked to-
gether in silence, avoiding the crowd,and
especially avoiding the place where the
sisters were seated. They found at last a
lonely place within a belt of trees.
Ransom said, "One thing now, mind
By 11---d, I'll not spare you 1"
"We had better loose no time in talk,"
Copin coolly replied "or some do will
come." •
- -
They flung off their coats ; Ransom I
rushed at his adversary like a mad bull.
Foe a Frenchman, Copan 'Understood the
science, of boxing remarkably well. Ho
merely put off Ransom's blows for a while.
"Fin/ en finer," at last he said, and sent
one straight, sharp blow right between
Ransom's eyes. Ransom went down like
an ox under the pole-as, and lay sense- .
less, Copin approached him with an air
of some anxiety, felt his pulse, lifted ono
of his eyelids and appeared relieved.
'All right,' he said. 'He'll . dal . he'll
come to an a few moments, and be will
hardly want any more, I can't do better
tttati SUM bun wheto hp is, awl get
FIFTY CTS,,EXTUA IF NOT IN ADVANCE
that dear child away. This is becoming
sensational:
ne:preseutly joined the sisters; Annie
was growing terribly alarmed at his ab
sence. and saw that there was blood up-
on Ids bend.
Annie eat in her little room thut same
night alone. Her sister was in bed and
asleep. It was a warm summer uit,and
there was no light burning . She bad
been an idler all day, and was an idler
still. She was thinking.'
Sweet words which Claude had whis
pered,in her ear as ha left her that even
ing on the threshhold, after their return
from the old palace, attll lingered with
her. They were only a few words, but
were alive with love and promise. Life
seemed to be really brightening for the
poor orphan girl. The horizon of her
existence appeared to expand and glow,
and to inclose a prospect more genial
than that of Swordblade Alley. She
could now work fur very hope and hap
pines&
But there were pangs of fear, too. She
had extracted from Claude a sort of half
confession of his quarrel with George
Ransom, and although Claude insisted
that the affair ended with a fair fight, she
could not think so. She dreaded Ran
som. She thought there was something
terribly ominous in hie having followed
them so stealthily and patiently to the
Crystal Palace. She dal not like the idea
of these two man sleeping in rooms next
to each other that night, and she much
wished Claude would lodge somewhere
else for a few days to come.
It grew dark, and she lighted a lantern
and tried to do some work. She always
kept a' little dark lantern,to be used when.
she felt compelled to work very late at
night. It threw its heam of li"ht, direct-
ly on the work, and if any late steps
passed her door she could shade the light
in a moment; for she did not care to
have it known to all her fellow-lodgers that
she sat up alone half the night through.
This night, however, she did not seem
able to work, somehow. She partly un
dressed, put out her light, oud stole into
her bed in the other little room.
• She could DOS sleep, and after a rest
less hour she thought she heard a voice
in the alley—a voice well known to her.
It was the voice of Claude Copts trolling
in low, sweet tones one of his favorite
songs. Annie went into theinnit room
and peVped into the alley, and she saw
lilatide come sauntering down. de en
tered the house. Just as he did so she
thought she saw a dark figure stirring in
an old doorway on the other side of the
alley. The night was rather chlar,tho ugh
moonless, and there was a gas lamp a ht
tle way 'down Swordblade Alley. The
girl was sure she saw a a figure partly
emerged from the doorway opposite, and
she shuddered. She lit her lantern, but
carefully shaded It.
She beard Olaude's steps on the stairs,
heard him Range for a moment outside
her dotir. Oh, bow the girl's heart throb
bed at that little bit of evidence that her
lover thought of her! And then she
beard him climb the rickety stairs that
led to his own room.
Still she saw the figure lurking in the
doorway opposite. Now it emerged bold
ly into the alley, and she could plainly
see that it was the figure of George Ran
som. He waited and waited. What was
he waiting for?
At last he crossed the alley toward her,
and she could not see him. He was evi
dently entering the house. He had not
knocked. Late as it was, the outer-door
of this house, filled with loungers of vari
ous occupations and hours, was not yet
locked. She heard no sound. Could he
have remained below? No, for she How
heard a faint tracking noise of somebody
creeping cautiously up the stairs. With
all her senses on the stretch, she watched
and listened. Ransom bad evidently ta
ken of his boots.and was creeping gently
up the stairs. He paused, at the door,
and the girl's blood seemed to chill. Could
his secret visit be meant for her ? Had
he come to kill her ? She held her very
breath. He passed on—crept upward.
Now Ransom's usual way was to come
home in a noisy, careless, swaggering
sort of fashion. There was something
ominous in it when he stole upstairs with
noiseless tread. He was going to murder
Claude!
The girl's courage came book in a mo
ment. She seized' her shaded lantern.
opened the door, and glided out. All was
dark below and above. No lodger was
awake, at least no lights were burning.—
She crept up a stair or two behind Ran
som. lie must have fancied he heard a
sound, for he stopped, and she stopped
too. lie went on again, and she crept
safely after—glidin g like a ghost. If the
wretched old stair-case had been less
rickety, he must have beard her; but ev.
cry tread of his however cautious, made
some noisb which seamed loud in the
lonely darkness, and swallowed up the
sound of her light footfall.
It was a long, slow, and fearful ascent,
the climbing of that flight of stairs. At
last they were on the upper floor, the
man and his unexpected watcher. lie
doped at a door, pushed it gently open.
and listened. The frill deep breathing of
Claude couldba distinctly heard. Annie
thought it impossible that the beating of
her heart.should not attract Ransom's ate
tendon.; but there was a throbbing in
the brain, a ringing in the ears -of the
man who had come to do murder, which
almost; deafened him. In the dim gray,
beam of half light which came from
Claude's window when the door was
pushed in, Annie could plainly see. Ran
soul draw from his pocket a clasp-knife,
whiah he opened. Now if she were to
scream, would it save Claude, or would it
fail to wara him in time and render his
enemy more . desperate.? Had Ransoin
looked, at that moment he must have scent
her. But he crept into the room without
looking around, and she glided swiftly
after him. Ile bent over the hod, as if to
make sure of where his victim lay, tind
raised tho knife in his right hand. An.
nie Prince seized his arm, clung round it
with saber weight and strangtht Atid at
the same 'natant, with wie sudden, half
npconcions, Convulsive movement ,
back the shade of her lantern and. sent OS
bright-beam of light dazzling across the
assaviej 604 Thea 41104tw9 wl4
THE 3foiqtrtosu IlE3ibbilkt
Contains ell lbe LocalindOchirakiilite,Pber*Atir.
ries, Anecdote*, liiscelianebne Iteadleg,COnciPtlleli
um:, and • reliable clue of saverthements.
On* square. of ()tan Inch apnea.) 6 Weeks, er
l month, sl.s• 3 row:atm 1930; IS months Se I
year, $6.30. A liberal 01rcnbut on adrertlearilerat ... ier
Ce'sglreiliworl efii i ! .2 / 1 1::= 1 S e in CI CI L ctl a t 1 1411) "
biarriaires tad lathe, tree; oblbearisi, 10 etc a dile:.
NUMBER 18.
for help, and George iiantoin drokieJ ali
the floor in an epileptic flt, and Olandei
' started np, awake, to see Annie staidly
beside bim,aud to learn that her prese
'and her hand bad saved him from death
- •
George Ransomi vrus oat of his Genii
for eom. time after. Drabness the 6m
j sion of his mind, the vehensanco of hid
passion, and the load of his awful pursed
had wrought him into such a conditiort
that it only needed the sudden ehook of
Annie's grasp and her Wan of light td
shatter for the time his reason altOgetberl
When he tecovered his senses he seemed
to have recovered also something of bid
better nature. He emigrated to Nevi
England, and will probably never ard
Swordblevle Alley again.
L...ng before hansom's recovery Anntd
Prince was married to claude Copin. Shd
had to learn something before her mar'
riage which at tire t almost bewildered hob
The intelligent reader, however, will not
be so much surprised to learn thaton thd•
marriage day the bridegroom signed hid
name rot as Claude Copra, bat as Earns
est Lyttietm.
In fact, Mr. Lyttleton had gotta i 4
search of a sensational drama, and found
it ;_ and with it a dear and devoted wife;
and a happy existence. Annie and Netz
lie and he went oa the continent for d
year or two, and when they returned tot
settle in Lendoti,Mrs. Lyttleton's culture!
and maiiners were such that no ones
would have guessed • that Ernest had
found his wile in Swonibliele Alley, Enli
our pair made nu.svcret front their Mende
of her birth and her poverty. Neither
he nor she were ashamed of anything
her life bad known.
How I wish that you had known Katy., 13fi8
and her mother were living with gratidmothe
Dawson, at the old farm house,while Ur. Iliad
was away in the army. It was in the early
spring when the days were just chilly enonglt•
for a cheerful little fire on the kitchen hearth/
litcid yet it grew so warm at noon that Kitty
buid go trudging along out of doors, bare•
headed at times.
Once she went out to the barn to watch'
grandmother Dawson make a warm bed for sf
motherless little lamb, and give It some brags ,
fast Oh what a wild coil day It was, with,
wind fairly thundering around the old hard-=‘
The harness In the closet next the granary kepi
tapping, tapping in a mysterious way that made
Katy feel almost afraid, but it was only becaului
the wind blew against it through the crackt.=
Ole cherry, in her shed, just out-aide the bate',
bawled out so dolelulth and it sonndedso fear;
fatly near that Katy - couldn't help lookirootti
her shoulder every now and then, expecting to
see two crooked horns close to her cheek-- ,
When evening came, and the curtains were
drawn, she held the yarn fur her mamma to'
wind, and didn't cry nor jerk herself, except SY
very little at first: because MAW= was gov
leg to knit it into sucks fbr the soldiers, and
she said that Katy mast be papa's brave little ,
girl, and do all alto could to help. Bo EMI
stood very stIlL
Grandma Dawson tell asleep as she sal by
the Hie, and mamma told a glorious little story
as she wound and wound, stopping !hr Katy'.
fat arms to rest, a story about a great battle',
and about papa Burns, and she said softly AV
the end of her story. "Oh, Katy we're gladi
we let papa go ar'nt we Y And I think wluird
the trees grow green again the war will all tsf
over, and papa and all the soldiers will coma
home, and we'd not have the heartache iusye
more."
In the morning Katy went to the window t
look at mu woods. They looked very gray ands
cold a say across the fluids, and even the Blau:
was not bu Wing yet, by the kitchen
Every day there came a little whitild moment
in the midst of her dull muting and mischief;
when she remembered about herrnotheros Imp*,
and then the would gaze eagerly out of the'
window at the apple trees and the far away'
woods, and it (lid seem as though they grew
more naked and gray than ever,
What it this year the trees wculdn't be VMS'
at all, But at last the Rm budded, and then/
Katy took heart and made the dolly dance aai
torn somersets By and by the woods took le.
tinge of light green, and thee 1144 Oda MOO
shadows in their billowing tops. nut Kateil
mamma read the papers day atter day,amtgreW•
sad Instead of glad, and one evening whim:flaw
found Katy looking at the woods as they
glowed in the yellow aunset-light, she Bald l&
no use watching the woods, Katy, tar papas
cannot come." And It was very true that her
could not for Katy's papa was dead. 14qugams
Burns had the letter In her haqd--,ther
had ever written. I don't think that /Katy ever
retheuthered much that was read her estop% that
papa Burns had said that ho would like Itogat¢
his arm around his little, girl, came more—anthl
she knew just what It meant.
Its a long time since Sates papa died butt
She toils so clacerthily and plane SO fiOTS 4 4 II B
. .
that I still call her rIT KATY'
The following. errs for neuralgia glyso bp
the Newark Gegette. IS Well Worth ' 11 7 1 4. — `,
The article reads: "A friend of ours, who Ana
fared horribly front plus from neandgist, hear—' -
lug of s noted physicisa In Germany, who In— -
variably cored the disease, crossed tho Wen
and visited Germany for treatment Re sales
permanently cured atter a sojourn, and tho duo
tor freely gave hint the simple tweedy qtedi,
which was nothing but poultice igatgloionatb
from common field thistle. The leaves amnia,
carted and used OD the parts affected POI pot&
tire, while a small quantity of tim lisma qw,
boiled down to apint, undo small wine glass ot•
the devotion drank before each meal. Out%
friend says ho bathe known It to fail nitgie.
lug relief, while triobkost every cote It han 9/4.
feeted a cute,,
Chrikcht Union replies gs query se tes
velambet it Is wicked to. &ace t • "It is wiekedi
when it b evicted, and no; wicked arbertit
not ticked. In twat it bas no mum Amla%
character than walking, wrestling, GT sowbw.,
But company, untimely hones, vil dances, nut's
rage the exercise evil; good comPawit what ,
somo boars, and home int:lumen. niAIR It M
Icy mat bends."
Have &care of your Wow s for spasalont*
hey rides q pony that runs sway with
Passion has done more mischief in Sins Wtstial
%mall go RONTAtv gazikt (Ass elm It
is Prictesta tray Within:um Sltriornro
Advertising Rates:
EPLLOG GE
(community ed.]
MT KATY.