Wm. 0 Oraser
B. Hawley,
E. B. HAWLEY & CO.,
PUBLISIIEUS OF
THE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT,
AND GENERAL JOB PRINTERS,
Montrose, Susquehanna County, Pa
Orrics—West Side of Public Averico
Business Cards.
J. B. & A. A MeCOLLUM,
A CToticCill AT LAW Office over the Bank, MeWIZOIri
p. Montrome,May 10, IS7I. U
D. W. SEARLE,
A (TORREY AT LAW, otßee ore? the More of Y.
0 ell a ser, I n the Brick Block, Montrose, Pa. Caul Q 9
W. w. SMITH,
:•111NKT AND CHAIR KANDFACTURICRYI,—PooI
of MillLI .meet, Youtro,e, P..
M. C. SUTTON,
A I. , CTIONESR, and linsunksaa Mimi?,
ant 69t( Prleadavtlle. Pa
A.VI EL Y,
Addres., :Brooklyn Pa
AUCTION/ZEN
Jove 1. Ital.
J. C. WHEATON,
Cnn. Raounnta AND Lamm Scravirroa,
P. 0. addrces, Franklin Forks,
Susquehanna Co„ Pa
JOHN GROVES,
I aIIIONABLE TAILOR, Montrone, Pa. Shop over
Chandler's Store. AP orders Stied to firsterateetylt.
t'atllng done on short notice., and warranted to St.
4. 0. W Annta,
ATTORNEY A. LAW. Bounty, Back Pay. 4 PenslOo
gpa EraelZlp. on Claims attended to. ()Mee dr.
.00r below Boyd's Store.' Youtrose.Ps. Ida. 1.481
W. A. CRO&SMON,
attorney at UM, Oaks at the Court Rouse, le the
Commlnstoner'• Office. W. A. Caosaaux.
heave... SeroLitt.
E. L. WEEK t CO.
lionlere In Dry Goode, Clothing, Ladle■ and Mane.
tine Shoes. E. hicKENZIE, Manager.
M out rain, July Ist, "N.
LAW OYFICE.
rITCII & WATSON, Attorney" at Law, at the old ales
or Bentley & Pitch, Montrose, pa
1- I. (Jan.ll. '7l.f w. w. "rano".
ABEL TURRELL,
eeler In Drugo Medicines, Chemicals, Paints, Oil.,
D 7 r stuffs, Pena, Spice., Fancy Goode, Jewelry Per
fumery, fr.c., Brick Block, liontroee, Ps. Staabßelled
l$4S. [Feb. I, UM.
SCO FILL & DEWITT.
Attorneys at Law and Solicitors 111 Bankruptcy. Ocoee
No. 49 Cour...Bred, over City National Bank, Bing
hamton „N....Y. W. .II 8.1,114...
=IMI
DR. W. L, RICHARDSON
Pit YSICIAN & SUMMON, tenders his professions
.ervices to the citizens of Montrose and vicinity.—
unce at hi.rastdoree, on the corner east of Sayre&
Bro.. Foundry. fAnz. 1, 1869.
CHARLES .N. STODDARD,
)etler in Boots and Shoes, Hate and Cape, Leather and
Findings, Main Street, lit door below Boyd'. Stare.
Work made to order, and repairing done neatly.
lioutroae Jan. 1 1010.
LEWIS KNOLL,
SHAVLNG AND GLAIR DRESSLYG.
ahoy In the new Postotace building. where he will
be found ready to attend all who may want anything
let his line. Montrose Pa. Oct. 13 1869.
DS S. W. DAYTON,
PHYSICIAN d BURGEON, tenders his service' to
the citizens of Great Bend and vicinity. Office at it,
residence, opposite Bannon Bonse, Git. Bend village.
Sept. lat. 180.—tf
DR. D. A. LATHROP,
Administers lifturso Mutsu Bum, a tbo Foot of
Chesnut street. Call and coual to a.l Chronic
Diseases.
Montrose. Jan. If. "Ta—no3—tf.
IL B GILEUTT.
Dealer .n Staple and Penny Dr, Goods, Crockery, Hard
ware, Iron, Store., Drugs, Ms, and Paints, Boots
and Shoes, Hats and Caps, Furs, Buffalo Robes, Gro
ceries. Prorislone, ae.
New-hlittord, la., Nor, 6, '72.—tf.
EXCHASOE HOTEL.
If . J. HARRINGTON wishes to Inform the public that
having rented the Exchange Hotel in Montrose, he
Is now prepared to areaminodatethe traveling pubne
in first-class style.
Montrose, Ang. If, 1675.
LITTLES f BLAKESLEE
ATTORNEYS • AT LAW, have removed hither New
0.114 z, opposite the Tarbell House..
Montrose, Oct. 15,1813.
BILLINGS STROUD.
rI RE AND LIFE ETAINIANCE AGENT. AE
b El, II Inest attended to promptly, on (Mr terms. °Mee
Met door east of the hank or Wm. H. Cooper G Cs.
Public Aserme.Enntreae, Pa. [A0g..1,1869.
July It ISIS.] DMArnos &nom%
B. T. & E. if CASE,
HARNESS-MAILERS. Oak Ilarnesa.llglit and heavy,
at lowest cash prices. Ala, Blanket., Wean Blan
kets, Whips. and everything pert-owing to the Ilse,
cheaper than the cheapest. Repairing done prompt-
ly and in good style.
Montrose, Oct. 49,1873.
CHARLEY MORRIS
THE HAITI BARBER, _ has moved Ms shop to the
ban E
ding occupied by E. McKenzie & Co., where hails
prepared to do all kinds of work In his line.sach coma ,
sine switches, puffs. etc. All work done on short
notice and prices low. Please call and sea me.
THE PEOPLE'S NAEKET.
Pnuarr Hamm, Proprietor.
Fresb and Salted Meats, Hnma, Pork, Bologna Ban
e.etc., of :be Lent qandity, constantly on hand, at
ync to gait
Montrone, Pa.. Jan. 14. IM-17
VALLEY HOUSE,
thoteT Been, Pa. Situated near the Erie Railway De.
put l a large and commodious bowie, has undergone
a thorough repair. Newly furnished rooms nod sleep
tu
a l
Mot else, hoteartmenta.splendid tables.
D und all things_eompr
lags
fs
l. ENNY ACKERT;
seta. Put. Proprietor.
DR W. W. &MITE&
Livens, Rooms at hie dwelling, nett door north of Dr.
Halsey's. on Old Foundry street, where he would be
[moor to see all those In grant of Dental ork. Re
confident that be can pletse all, both In quality of
work and to price. Office hoary from 9a.a. to 4 P. M.
Montrose. Feb. 11, laT4—tf
EDOAR A. TURBELL,
IICIZI=2E:1
No. 1n Broadway, New York City.
Attends to all kinds otAttorrrea Business, and con
ducts causes In all the Courts of both the Brats and the
Orated States.
Frb 11.1tra.-V.
E. P. HINES, M. D.,
tirsdonte of the University of Michigan, Ana Arbor,
I. sod al. of Jefferson Met Coßrix of Phila.
delphis, 18;4, has returned to PriendsvWee, where be
will attend ro nllO4ll. in big profession os usual.—
Itesideuce in Jessie Eloillord's horwc. osm the Same
a. heretofore.
Inendsville, Ps., April 24th., 18:4.—e.m.
BUILNS & NICHOLS,
OKA. :.11.8 In Drugs, Medicines, Chemicals Lis's
•: ,as:Paints,olls, Varnish, Liquors, Bpices.Piney
um Patent Endictnee.Perfameryand TotletAr
,. ,3Prescriptions carotrally compounded.—
Brick Block. ii012t.(01.0•Pl-
B, Bones.
u eh. Cl. 1979
WITTEI
loft PREVErIeG.
Elsocysztoci
Alr THIS OFFICE. CIIEAP.
Try trim.
M t NTROSE DEMOCRAT.
TWO DOLLARS PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
VOLUME 31.
TUE SOCIETY UPON TILE STAN
—o--
I reside at Table Alountain, and my name is
Truthful James,
I am not up to small deceit,or any sinful games;
And I'll tell, in simple language, what I know
about the row
That broke up our Society upon the Stanislow.
But first I would remark, that it is not a pro
per plan
For any scientific gent to whale his fellow man
And, if a member don't agree with his peculiar
whim,
To la for that sum.' member "to put a head on
him."
Now, nothing could be finer or more beautiful
to see,
Than the brat six months' proceedings of that
same Society,
Till Brown, of Calaveras, brought a lot of los
ail bones,
That he found within a tunnel, near the tene
, ment of Jones.
Ten Brown, be read a paper, and be recon
?' structed there,
Prom those same bones, an animal, that was ex
tremely rare :
And Jones then asked the chair for a suspension
of the roles,
'Till he could prove that those same bones was
one of his lost mules.
Then Brown he smiled a bitter smile, and said
he was at fault.
It seemed he had been trespassing on Jones's
family vault:
Ile was a most sarcastic man, this quiet Mr.
Brown ;
And, on several occasions, he had cleaned out
the town.
Now I hold It is not decent, for a scientific gent
To say another is au ass—at least, to all intent;
Nor should the individual, who happens to be
meant,
Reply by heaving rocks at him, to any great
extent.
Then Abner. Dean, of Angers, raised a point of
order—when
A chunk of old red sandstone took him In the
abdomen
And heemilod, a kind of sickly smile, and curl.
ed up on the floor,
And the subsequent proceedings Interested him
DO more.
For, in less time than I write it, every member
did engage
In a warfare, the remnants of a pahezotic age;
And the way hey heaved these fossils, in their
NV
anger BM,
'Till the skull an old mammoth caved the
head of Thompson in.
And this is all I have to say of these improper
gamm;
For I live at Table Mountain, and my name is
Truthful James.
And I've told, in simple langnage,what I know
about the row
That broke up our society, upon the Stanislow.
=M=
MISCELLANEOUS READING
FARNIEH, BROWN'S STOUT.
-a
I have no words for her sweetness ; I
can't describe her; perhaps. Were Ito
do so or - even could I place her picture
before you, you might not see her as I
did and do. Every eye makes its own
beauty, and to me the was more beautiful
than any other living creature. Nellie
Brodie, I wan lovely Nelie Brodie, whOse
father was the sexton of our church, a
good old man, but prosy, and prone to
tell one or two long stories about ghost,
after all, whenever one met him. Many
and many a time I've listened to them„
out in his little porch, of a summer's night
with the moon bright above us, and mys
terious chirps and cries in the bushes
and the smell of the evening primrose
growing sweeter and sweeter, and Nellie,
still and quiet as a mouse, sitting with
folded hands between us.
We were busy folks enough by day but
we idled away the long summer evenings
together, and thought no harm of it. It
is good to idle sometimes, in that hap
py sort of way; and to tell the truth, I
like it. No man could say I neglected my
duty. A better farm no man ever hal,
and larger crops bone gathered, and no
starved cattle grazed in my meadows—as
for my dairy—but that was sister Jane's
doing. A good house. A pretty,bright,
eyed girl, with a cheery heart, and a
laugh that seemed to be catching. Alone
together we two were, and we were fond
of each other.
MEV=
I never told her I liked Nellie Brodie,
bnt I did not bide it from her. Nellie
and she were great friends. Over and over
again I tried to find out from Jennie
what she said about me—Nellie, I mean
—but the girl would never let a word
blip out. A true woman hides another
woman's secrets. I knew that, and built
on it.
"For." said I to myself, "If Nellie dis
liked me, Jennie would give me a hint,
sister•like, and save me from mortifica
tion. Either she knows nothing, or she
knows that Nellie likes me."
After that, I may say I colPrted Nellie.
She knew I loveil her, I'm sure of that ,
even if I had not said so out and out, she
-could not help knowing it.
But there were other young men in the
plate, of course, and many willing enough
to listen to old Brodie's stories for the
sake of looking at his daughter ; and
many a jealous pang I had in those 'days,
for Nellie had the same pretty , kindly
ways to all, and the same smile for every
one.
I used to think that a "no" from Nel
lie's lips would - go straight through my
heart like a bullet, and I found it hadto
risk the bearing of it. She must say it
to all but one of us, and I was not so
handsome as one, and not so witty as
another, and not so rich as a third, I
think I never knew bow I was though,
until I had my photograph taken one
day, by a mar who had a gallery in the
village. I thought though at first he had
made too much of my mouth and too
- little of my eyes; but y peshowed me plain
ly that the machine must take a good
likeness, because it was a machine that
couldn't make a mistake. I took the
things home avid put them in a drawer,
and showed them to nobody ; but they
took the little vanity I had oat of me,
though I kept saying over and over again.
'•What do looks:matter fora mao
Aiwa Ntanoza
I'd meant, you see, to give Nellie one
for her album ; but I thought if I look
like that it was best not. I've heard other
people speak of the same feelings since
in regard to photographs ; and I am not,
sure now that they are always perfect.
Waiting and watching, hoping and
fearing, I let the time slip by ; and win
ter came, with its frost and snow, and old
Mr. Brodie told his stories by the fire, in
POETRY.
ISLAIVS.
And I thought to myself. "What de
ceitful creatures women are r fur the
look she gate me was as sweet as if she
had not worn another man's portrait in
her bosom.
A week from that day I was in New
York and sought out an.old ship owner,
who had been my father's friend.
"I'm tired of farming," I said, "and
want to try the sea as a common sailor.
The old man would have laughed me
out of the notion ; but when he found
me firm, he gave me what help he could.
I went on board a vessel bound for
China, and wrote a line to sister Jennie,
telling her to send for Uncle William and
his wife to manage the farm, which I
knew they would be glad to do ; but I
never told where I was or what I had done.
I meant, you see, to throw myself away'
and be heard of no more by any one. Of
course, I was mad, for the time ; that is
the only exegise for me.
So I led the sort of life a sailor-in the
merchant service leads—no very pleasant
one, I can tell you—for a year or two,and
I grew no better for it, and no happier.
The other men had mostly some one at
home--•--to get a letter or a message from
at times ; I for my own act, had no one.
And all the while, at work or at mess, or
in the house when Watch was kept on
deck, I thought of Nellie ; saw her as
she looked w i l M
Mi.-sat by her father's
side in the suer oonlight ; saw her
with the fire -Might on her golden hair.
beside the winter hearth ; saw her smil
ing up at me, as whirled through the
snow drifts that last bright day, and saw
her as she lay like a dead thing in my
arms. And fancy painted other pictures.
I saw her as Tom Armstrong's wife, I {saw
her—oh, good heavens I—with his chil
dren on her knee.
I am not sure shonld have turned idiot,
had not something happened to alter the
circumstances of my position. This was
nothitg else than the total wreck - of our
vessel,and my narrow escape from drown
ing, but with an arm 'broken by falling
off a spar: For a month I lay on a sick
bed ; and then. with a softened heart,and
a feeling that I was sick of the sea, I went
home to aster Jennie, to be a farmer
again, if I could.
In those two years she had never had a
line from me. Notan angry word did she
!give me, but ran to my anna and wept on
MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, JULY 15, 1874
stead of his porch ; and the lump-light
fell on Nellie's yellow hair, as she sat
knitting, making the prettiest picture
you ever saw ; and 1 made up my mind
to test my fate before Christmas, and
didn't 1 You see when a young fellow is
in love be looses courage. But one thing
1 vowed—NeLie should take a sleigh
ride with me.
Tom Armstroirg had said—l had heard
him—that lie meant to drive the pretti
est cutter, the prettiest pair of horses,and
the prettiest girl in New Bridge. He
meant Nellie by the prettiest girl. His
turn•ont might be what he chose, but
Nellie shuuld never go with him.
The snow fell fast ; and by morning
you could see nothing for miles around
but great white drifts, thumb the sky
had grown clear as thougiff it had been
summer. I called for Nellie in the after
noon., and she was ready, and away we
went. She looked charming, with her
rosy cheeks and bright eyes and sunny
hair ; and I was happier than ever I had
been in my life.
Going out of the village, we met Tom
Armstrong, with hit splended cutter. He
looked daggers at vs both—or at least I
thought so ; and he went, as I heard af
terwards, to invite Sue Nichols to ride
with him. As he drove out of sight, I
made up my mind to ask the question
that would settle everythitig on our way
home.
Man purposes and Heaven disposes.
Things happened that evening that I
had no thoughts of. We were going back,
in the moonlight, when I put my hand
on Nellie s, and made her turn her eyes
towards me.
"I have been trying to say something
to you for a long while," I said. "Per
haps you guess what it is."
But adore I could utter another
word,my horses took fright at something,
and away they went like mad things.
Nellie clung to me and screamed. I did
all I could to stop them. They left the
road entirely and took their way across a
field, and striking against a stump the
snow had hidden, the vehicle was over
turned, and we were thrown out togeth
er.
I was not hurt ; but Nellie by insensi•
ble. I lifted her in my arms and clasped
her to my boson, and begged her to open
her eyes and speak one word to me. But
she was like one dead ; and in my terror
I dared not take her to her home. I car
ried her instead, to my sister, who, fright
ened half oat of her senses, came forth
to meet me. She took Nellie to an inner
room and bade me bring a doctor ; and
he was there soon.
I spent an hour of agony, such as I
had never felt before ; but at last Jennie
came to me, all smiles.
"There is no danger," she said. "She
has come to herself ; she only fain ted
from fright. You haven't killed her, or
even hart her much, you foolish boy."
And I buret into- tears. Jennie bent
over me.
',But to think that she should be so
sly," she said. "A gentleman's portrait
in her bosom all this while, and not a
word to me of it 1 I'll punish her for it
now."
And awe .) , she ran back to Nellie, but
my tears were all dried up, and my heart
was like gall. She was engaged to some
one else. then, this girl who was so dear
to me, and she wore nis portrait next her
heart. Fool that I was not to guess it,
I never asked whose portrait it was—
Tom Armstrong's or Jack Mayder's
did not care. When Nellie was well
enough to go, in the course of an hour
or two, I drove her home and bade her
good bye.
I said, "I regret that I should have
been the means of alarming you so, Miss
Brodie."
And she looked up in my face with her
great blue, innocent eyes, and said. "It
was not your fault; you could not help it..
It was so foolish to faint awn!.
Devoted to the Interests of our Town and County.
my bosom like a child ; and then she
showed me the wedding ring on her fin
ger, and the baby laying asleep In the
cradlP, and told me whose wife she was.
She was Mrs. Tom Armstrong, and I
had never guessed they liked each other!"
"And I'm happy as the day is long,"
she said, "only fretting about you. How
could you go away so, Ned ? if you did
not think - of my feelings, you might have
thought of Nellie Brodie's."
"Nellie Brodie's teelings !" I cried
"Nellie Brodie,a I Don't laugh at me
Jeanie."
"Laugh at you 1" she cried. "Laugh at
you, my dear! I haven't a thought of IL
Did you quarrel that' night ? It must
have been a quarrel, I think. "Whose
fault was it., your's or her's ?"
"Miss Brodie and I never had a quar
rel." I said.
"Oh. Ned," she resumed, softly, "don't
try to hide it from me, when I saw your
portrait iu her bosom. I told you so. I
know, and thought it was all settled, and
was so glad."
"I started up and caught Jeunie's
wrist. "Myportrail !" I cried.
"Why, Ned, Ned, don't look at me so,"
screamed Jenire ; what does it all mean?
Your portrait, of course ; one of those
you had taken—l found the rest after
you went away. Oh, Ned, don't—don't
look so. dear I"
"I thought you told me she wore anoth
er man's picture." I said. "That drove
me away ; that and nothing disc. 06,
what a wretched fool I've been I"
But Jennie, dear Jennie, with her kind
motherly face and Woman's eyes, came
close to me, and put her arms about my
neck, and whispered, "Don't despair,Ned.
She has never liked anybody else, and
I know for certain, that she wears your
picture still."
And those words brought my youth
hack to me;'and the years seemed blotted
out, and I was the Ned Brown who fell
in love with Nellie Brodie, once more.
Well, Jennie told the truth. I went to
see Nellie Brodie, and found her sweet
and beautiful as ever ; and we were mar•
ried when the spring came sod the birds
began to build their nests in the green
orchard. Afterwards, when she had been
my wife some time, Nellie t( Id me,uuder
those very same trees, how she had found
my picture one day when no one saw her,
and worn it afterwards for love of me—
wore it and wept over it when I was far
away, trying to forget her—trying, but
never succeeding ; for the love I had for
Nellie Brodie was part of my life, and
will be, I believe, part of the Eternity,
where, when death severs us here, we
shall be reunited.
The Elopement.
Five years had elapsed since Lydia's
disappearance. But she looked older even
than that. The agony of that day, the
horrible night afterwards, the constant
fear of discovery, and lastly, the struggle
for bread combined with the never end
' ing heart-ache, had begun to cut wrink•
lea in her still fair face.
In all this time she had never heard of
her husband, nor of her early home. She
was too proud to return to her father. "I
will starve first," she often said,clenching
her hands.
Whether Leonard was alive or dead,
whether he had remained in Italy or had
gone hoine,she did not know. Sometimes
she said to herself,moaning on her pillow
at night, "Ile is with Mrs. Dorchester,"
and the thought went through her heart
with actual physical pain,like the stab of
a knife.
She and her, faithful Dorcas were set
tled in Pars wow, in an obscure corner,
as the least likely place to be discovered.
She earned a scanty living, and it was of
the scantiest, by coloring photographs.—
into the more fashionable parts of Paris
she never ventured, except when she had
to go to the shops to sell her sketches, or
to get orders. On one of those occasions
at the head of the Rho do la Pair, she
suddenly came face to face with MraDor
chester. She turned and fled immediate
ly, regardless of her errand, fled down
side streets and close alleys '
• fled across
the Seine, and only stopped to breathe
when she had reached her humble lodg
ing, in one of the most secluded parts of
the Luxembourg quarter. But hardly
had she closed the door, hardly had she
begun to tell Dorcas that they must fly
from Paris, when Mis. Dorchester, unan
nounced, forced herself into the room.
"I have followed you," said the latter,
unceremoniously, as Lydia rose, angrily.
"I will speak, Mrs. Drake."
"Have the goodness to leave my room,"
answered Lydia, tottering to her feet.—
"I do not know you nor the name by
which you have addressed me."
"You have been rued long enough,"
sternly exclaimed her visitor, sitting
down. "Try to come back to your senses
I shall not go until I have explained. A
few words will do it. Your husband and
I, instead of being, what you thought,
were trying to keep a great misfortune
from you, or if that could not be done, to
break it to you carefully."
There was an air of truth about the
speaker, that staggered Lydia. She sank
nerveless into the chair.
"I must tell the whole story in order
to exculpate ourselves," said Mrs. Dor
cheater, "Your father got into difficulties
forged my husband's name to a large
amount, and was on the point of expos.
are when Mr. Dorchester died. The af
fairs then came into my hands to settle."
Lydia sat leaning both elbows on the
table before her,her face supported on her
hands, listening, and looking as if at her
doomster.
"I could have prosecuted your father,
but it would have sent him to die in gaol"
continued Mrs. Dorchester, "and would
have publicly disgraced all his family.--
Yon. I know by name. as the wife of my
cousin, with whom I had been brought
up in the country as a child, and whom
I loved as a brother—as a brother, noth
ing more, she added, empbatibally. "Be
sides, I was a woman, and I hope not a
cruel one. So I refused to prosecute,
suffered the loss of the money, and hush
ed the matter up."
A groan burst from Lydia.
Mrs. Dorchester went on : "Then I
came abroad. At Lausanne I met your
husband unexpectedly. He had received
some hints about your father, and he in
sisted on knowing the truth. He then
said you ought to be told. But I replied
that it would only pain you needlessly;
if you continued to live abroad you
might never hear the story. He answer
ed that it would come to your ears soon
er or later. This is why you saw us talk
ing so much together, and why on sever.
al occasions, he sought private interviews
with me. One evening he nearly won
my consent. But hardly bad he gone,ho•
fore I repented—l shrank from it yoh
see, as a woman—and I wrote to him,tel
ling him he must still keep our secret.- -
That letter, it seems, or a portion of it,
found you. He was tearing it up, when
you came into the room,and he put what
was left of it hastily into a book that lay
nigh, as lie afterwards remembered. As
ifoon as lie could, he hurried to consult
me. You were, he said, getting jealous ;
you evidently misunderstood us ; and be
must tell the whole story now in justice
to himself. I was engaged with a party
to Vevay, and the room was full ; so he
joined me in order to have an opportuni
ty to say all this. Of course in this cri
sis my scruples gave way. My reward is
that you believe me a vile woman. There
that's the whole. I've told my story, per
haps in a hard way ; I'm sorry for you all
the same. Thank God, I've found you 1"
She had risen while speaking, and
caught Lydia's gaze, which at first had
been fixed on her so angrily, bad fallen
before her; she had buried her face in her
bands, and now, as Mrs. Dorchester ceas-.
ed, the wretched listener sank senseless
to the floor.
When Lydia revived, Mrs. Dorchester
finished. Leonard Drake had spent three
years in looking for his wife, and had
subsequently emigrated to America be
lieving her dead. The last time Mrs. Do
rchester heard from him be was settled at
Morristown, near New York.
The next morning saw Lydia and Dor
cas once more on their way; and when .
the sun set they watched it from the deck
of a Havre steamer bound Tor New York
It was late in November when she sail
ed; but the voyage was a pleasant one,
notwithstanding the season. Lydia felt
however, that she could have better en
dured storm and tempest than the mo
notony of those days, which left her
nothing to do but think. She could not
throw off the past. If she had only spok
en word,only shown her husband a shad
ow of the horrible insanity in her mind,
everything would have been set straight,
and sue would have been happy in his
pardon. But now five years gone forever
and perhaps worse; perhaps (for he
thought her dead—which would be worse
than all—dead, and too late even to hear
one last word of forgiveness
They were in sight of land at last, had
left the vessel,were driving away through
the busy streets of the great city of the
New World. Lydia would not hear of
resting or waiting, and old Dorcas knew
that it would be cruel to urge her.
It had been snowing when they landed
New York, and by the time they bad left
the the railway train which they had tak
en, it had settled into a heavy storm.—
Lydia warted to walk ; so Dorcas wrap
pad a waterproof cloak ebont her, drew
the hood over her head, and did the best
to shelter her.
"Ask how we go ?" was all her mistress
said. "Be quick—l want to start; but I
must balk—l should go mad?'
Dorcas stepped into a hotel near the
station, and made her inquiries. The
road was straight enough. Mr. Leonard
Drake, she was told,lived out beyond the
town a little she well knew the place by
such and such directiona
They were lees than half an hour on
the way, They reached the mansion, a
handsome dwelling, half town-honao,half
villa, with a long garden attached. They
mounted the steps, and Domes rang the
bell.
"Yon ask," she heard her mistress
whisper. She caught sight. of her face.
It was lined and seamed with pain ; the
dark eyes fairly strained and dilated with
suspense
he door opened. A man servant ap
peared.
"Is Mr. Leonard Drake in ?" Dorcas
asked.
"No, he is in New York, Mrs. Drake
is at home," answered the man.
Instinctively DorCas reached out her
arm to support Lydia, as she asked, "who
is that—his mother ?"
"'No Hie. wife. Do you want to see
her?" asked the man rather curtly, begin
ing to think them people in search of
charity, and not liking to encounter the
cold air.
"No" Doran said. "How long has he
been married
"About six mouths."
.A low choked whisper from her mis
trestreached Dorcas. It said, Come away I
Qpick i Come 1"
Dorcas turned, without s word, and
suported her mistress down the steps.
Lydia did not speak. Dorcas could not
She put her arm about her mistress, and
drew her on as Dot as she could, hoping
to llnd a caariage near, The !musk stood
in a plot of ground by itself. They ruin
ed the corner, where the garden lea down
a side street,
• • • • • •
"Wait,"sa id Lydia, soddenly. "1 cau't
go any farther, let me rest a little. Only
don't speak to me —don't say, a word."
They sat on the little jutted pf
stone that supportailthe iron fence!,Dorcas
half sustaining her saiiires4 ito crouch.,
ed forward, hiding her face with one
band. Dorcas bent over to see the fate
it was distorted by ari anguish. ' - •
"Mistress, dear I', she sobbed, "only
speak—only-=' -
"Hush I" muttered Lydia. "Come SWIM
I can walk new. Let me alone ; don't'
talk yet. Help me up I canlvalk." .
Dorcas was assisting her to . :rise; iben,
a gentleman stepped into the street,:a
tie down, and walked' rapidly--toward
them. '
IliuMed though be was in his great.
coat, Dorcas knew him and uttered-a cry
of terror.
"It's his step"' whispered Lydia. "Sit
down—he'll. not , know us '! 1' promised
never to trould fiin 1 • I mast _
FIFTY CTS. EXTRA IF NOT IN ADVANCE.
word. Don't look np , Dorcas. Sit down
I say l"
The very act attracted the attention of
the gentleman. He halted in front of
thOm. saying. "Why do you sit here in
this storm ?"
teither answered. Dorcas felt Lydia's
hand press her arm like a hand of stone.
"Can't either. .of.you speak ?" he con
thingd rather impatient ?. "This is no
weather for two women to be sitting out
of doors.
14111 no answer I Some mad idea that
she: could pull Dorcas away, and run
from him, seized Lydia. She attempted
it. The hood fell from her face. He
knew her and cried, "Lydia, Lydia'
She felt that she was fainting—that he
hati.eaught her in his arms; then an aw
fuljblackness closed over her.
When consciousness came back, she
thonght at Srst she must be dead. Then
she, knew she was in a bright warm room
She saw Dorcas, a young, pretty lady,
near the bed, then Leonard, and shrieked
She was held fast in his arms again.—
His: voice sounded close to her ear.
"Lie still, darling t it's all clear! My
cousin's house—my cotisin's wife. Don't
you - remember that I told yon I had .a
cousin with the towie Christian name as
myself, who emigrated to America ?"
Eto Lydia knew that God bad forgiven
her great sin, and mercifully allowed her
another trial of the happiness she had
recklessly thrown away.
SUNDAY NOILNTNO
--co--
_THOUGHTS DUBIN° =TIC/
—o—
TocOrarly, of course I How provoking I
I told Its pat how It would be.
I might as well have on a wrapper,
For there's not a soul here yet to see,
There I Sue Delaplaine's pew is empty,—
' declare if it Isn't too bad I
I know any suit cost more than her's did,
Aird I-wanted to see her look mad,
1 dd think that satiate:nee stupid—
He's put some one else In our pew—
Arid the girl's dresajuat kills mine completely :
How what am I going to do
Thelpsalter, and Sue isn't here yet!
'don't care, I think it's a sin
Forpeople to get late to service,
Just to make a grand phow coming in.
Perhaps she is sick, and can't ger here—
She said she'd a head ache last night.
How mad she'll be after her hissing I
I declare it would serve her just right,
Oh, you've got here at last, my dear, have you?
Wall, I don't think you need be so proud
Ot that bonnet, if Virot did make it, -
ICS horrid fast-tookth r F and loud.
What a dress I-for a girl In her senses
Ti.) go on the street in light blue—
And! those coat-sleeves—they wore them last
i !rummer—
Don't doubt, though, that she thinks they're
new.
Itia'3ray's polonaise was imported—
So drew:Mil—a minister's wife,
And:thinking so much about fashion I
Alnetty example of life?
The Altar's dressed sweetly—l wonder
Who sent those white newels for the Mutt—
Sortie girl who's gone on the assistant—
Don't doubt it was Beside Lamont.
Just lookat her now, little humbugl—
So devout—l suppose she don't know
That she's bending her head too thr over
And the ends 01 her vwithhes all show,
Whit a sight Mrs. Ward is this morning I
That woman will kill me some day.
With her horrible lilacs and crimsons,
Why will these ohl anddress BO EV?
Andthere's Jenny Welles Fred Tram:—
Sire's engaged to him now—horrid thing I
Dear me! I'd keep on my glove 'sometimes,
lt," didn't have a solitaire ring!
Hovr can this girl next to me act so—
The way she turns round and stares,
And then makes remarks about people ;
She'd better be saying her prayers.
Oh dear, what a dreadful long sermon I
He must lova to hear himself talk I
And-It's alter twelve now—how provoking ?
I want to have a nice walk.
ThrOugh at last. Well it isn't so dreadfig
Atjer all, for we don't dine till one
How can people say church 13 poky ?
SO wickedl-1 think it's real fan.
ABOUT PIER
-o
If'we have a national dish, we suppose Its .
oaths is "Pie." At the unfrequent stations
sled; the railways, where an official bolcs his
bead in at the door of the ear to about, "Ten
minutes for refreshments," the ataple•rofreah=
meat Is always pie. The line betwoM winter
and Spring is accurately defined in the minds of
half the house-wives in the country as the "time
when there le nothing to make pies of." Dried
apples are used up, prunes are too expensive,
and rhubarb has not yet made Its impearanee,so
that- the inventive. and - economical faculthw of
wuinenkind are sorely tried to All up the va..
COMM.
Frery other .women. among us, It may be
said, without exaggeratien: has lost her 'biome
and her strenuth'in making plc-crust, and as 'a
not unnatural result, every other man has , a
touch of dyspepsia In . conaequencirof eating It
The mother spends Saturday morning lila,
borions effort between the table find the oven,
and tits down in her rocking chair for a breath
of eise and rest. proudly surveying ihe'reeelts
of her skill. Ales t nothing is so ephemeral:—
Father and the boys soon , make an!end of them
Given three or four growingboys • and the ordi.
nary gilts on their part of appreciation for
toothsome viands, and it takes s cast amount
of pie to itittsty 'their dementia. The `mere
delicate and dainty the corripoaltion of the dish'
the fighter and flakier the upper crag; and' the
more pleasantly spiced the materials that tom.
pose its lining, the quicker it, fades from view.
We all know how long 11 takes to use up that
Which, for any reaeon, is tenet or napslauittle;
or which has lost Its delicacy of ilavOr-4uf, the
instance, , the breed 'that' is tour, or 'the better
that to too salt:-end with what' astonishing
ease-and celerity the.good bread and fresh ba
ts. Sy from the table. It is precisely so with
pies
The"golden cocoannt, creamy lemon, the
nubile' mince, and the satie4tlng 'aPple, each in
ltettus, if success; Is sure of Mini eaten.—
iteledy whose pies are not a. names, who
makes tough, leathery, inedible crusts, and who
knows not, the secret .ol proportioning het sa
ger and her spice to her frult,feelo that In
whatever other direction she ineyhda
example, yet 'when the crowning' atiatomplhth
mesi of feminine handiwork Is • dir. ,, i.ntlothe
'mwst. with a blush,. retire, , • • :
Yet we almost all are agreed in the opinion.
thekof much . pie-trust comes much sick head.
sate Site nerionsness mud nenialgle. We are
snrithateur children' Would have - blighter eyes
and cheeks if .they lived On plainer foods
and Miles • unwholesome . pastry • and Conroe+ ,
'briery. We are oure beyqnd I doubt, that Abe
time spent by the pie makers in compounding
,theiides,atlthe plot:niers gettitkg them di
,
THE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT
Cootal ns all tbo Local and General Heirs, Poetry,Bto :
rte., Anecdote., Mleeellaneous Readlog,Corrcipm.a.
came, and a reliable elan ofadvertliementa.
or
One Kama. (X clan Inch apacej3 week', or leen, E.
month, $1.23; 3 months, $3.60; I mont hs. $4.20; I
year. pito. A Ilbenal dliconnt on advertisements of •
center length. Dulness Lotalm,lo cts. a line for Ana
Insertion. and IS eta . a line each subeepaent notertlon..
Ifnalagelt and deaths, tree; obituaries, 10 cli, a IWO,
NUMBER 28.
geared, might be utilized by both parties in
much better way. Imagine yourself "dearmad
for the next six weeks absolutely enutncl
pated from an your obligations in the way of
pies, and the Duiciful cookery of which plo Is
the representative I How many books you
could read I How much sewing you could got
out of the way l flow much time you would
have for visiting and for repose I And how
much better off your husband and • children
would be without the appetizing dainties
"But we can't keep house without pies r-,
Not it you eschew the frying pan and its at
tendant horrors, and depend upon healthful
roasts and broils ? Not If you make puddings,
easily mixed and deliciously flavored, of rice,br
tapioca, sago, or Indian meal ? Try fbr a little
while, and see whether the change will not be
a grcatful ono.—Hear:A and Hone.
One sharp lesson of the autuMn's panic, and
indeed of our shifting American fortunes with
out any panic at all, Is the wasteful folly and
cruelty of the old education of women. ' It is
folly, in an. economic sense, that Ignores the
sharp possibilities of the future of our girls,
while w e send-Our boys outinto life fhlly Arm
ed pad equipped for the fray.
The young man, returned from college or the
scientific school, in the bright glow of dawning
powers, nntrammled as yet by care, and under
the shelter of his father's root decides upon his
Caner. Admiring aunts and sisters waft thels
prayers and hopes upon the winds that wing
his sail : the father's exoerience and counsel pi
lot the boat through the shallow waters near
the shore. Everything aids his start—youth, .
freshness and special training. He has no re
sponsibility upon him save for his own health
and good behavior.
When does a woman choose her career ? In
middle age ; broken down by sorrow ; when
she has seen her life's hopes go down ono by
one in the horizon. As a girl, she has waited
in her father's house for the lover who never
came. All of youth has gone by in vague
dreams. In the frivolous business of fashion
able society her strength has spent itselL
Her hands are skilless save in delicate em
broidery ; her brain is sluggish, though It aches
with new anxiety and despair. Heavily weight
ed with responsibility, it may be, with the
broken down father or the always Invalid
mother now suddenly dependent upon her, she
sets out upon this now path with weak, uncer
tain steps. Beginning a career at forty, ail un
trained.
The daullit i er of her washerwoman can dis
tance her ; e girl who used to bring home
her shoes hniadrauly shot far alma She scarce
used to notice these girls, save when they were
thinly clad or looked hungrier than usual. It
was easy to loosen her pursa strings or send
them into the servant's room to bo warmed or
fed. Where are they now, while the is halting,
timorous, on the 'Sharp stones of the highway f
The washer-woman's girl is a . salaried. teacher
in the model school house yonder the other is
book-keeper hi her father's shop and it pays
her well. .
Ah I that artisan father, that mother tolling
early and late, had a deeper wisdom In their
need than the Merchant,the clergymatt,the rail
way king, in his hour of power. • What cruelty
like to their indulgence now T- The unreasoning
fondness which, reared their girls in luxurious
helplessness, which assumed the Moire as cer-
tain hilts golden round, has its parallel In oth
er lands. There are Asiatic fathers who put
out the eyes of a girl tlutt %she may be a more
pathetic beggar. •To the study of this Chinese
prototype, we commend the American...father,
who, choosing a career for his boys in the Ann
freshness of early manhood, leaves his - darling
daughter helpless amidst the buffets of the
changing tide.—Barper's Magazine for July.
It Is net to sweep the house, and make the
and dam the socks, and cook the meals,
chiefly, theta man wants a wife. If this la all
he needs, hired help can do it cheaper thaws
wife. If this 6 all, when a young emu calls to
deo 'a young lady, sena him into the pantry, to
taste the bread and cakes she has made. Bend
him to Inspect the needle-work and bed-maihtg
or put a bsoom into her hands and send hint to
witness Its use. Sucluthings ate important and
die VlBO 'young man. will quietly look. after
them.
, But what a true man most wants of a true
wife is hei companionship, sympathy, courage,
;Ind lOVe. 'lle way of life has many dreary
places hi it and a man 'needs a companion to go
With him. A man is sometimes overtaken with
Misfortunes ; he meets with failure and defeat;
trials and temptations beset him, atid.he noeda
one to stand by and sythpathize lie has some
Stem battles to fight with poverty, with eno•
mles, and with sin, and he needi a woman that
While he puts'lls 'aim arcamd ter and 034'
he hits something to fight for, will help 'him
fight ; that will put her lips to his ears and
whisper wbrds of counsel; and her hands to his
heartand impart new inspiration. All through
tiro—through storm and through sunshine, con 7
diet and victory, through adverse and divoridg
winds—man needs n woman's love: The heart
hearns for IL , A sister's or a mother's love will
ey supply the need.
yet many imek for nothing further than sun.
&Nis in housework. Justly enough, halt of those
get tidthlng more ; the other half, serprise
beyond measure, have gotten: More • than they
sought. Their wives surprise them by brinzing
a noblerklea of marriage and disclosing a trass-:
by of coerage i sympathy, and love.—:,:keriter,
one'S ageibould be tranquil, eur one's ebrbl:
hand ehuuld be playtbl ; hard wont;' at either
extremity of human-existence. seems"to me out •
of. place f -tho morning and the ravening should
be alike cool !aid peaccild ; at midday %beim ,
may buns, and men may , -labor and 11,—Pr
When you kayo fousilout-theprevalltog pal
'goo of any Pito, rutuotp*.novur to trot hull
7boro that wagon is concerned. Work upon
blm by 'lt; it you . please Vbta be upon" your
guard youruelt against it; vhatover proloartall'
be may make :y00..: -:: t.: • •• . , ,
Dfaed - rietteil of borax in Calif Ora and Nevada
have been 'nude to web an eitent as :to -war•
rant tbabelier that from them source, the mar.
Meta In ttio out of the 'Ametlcan continent.wild.
at no distant limo. bo ablo to ? ratv chief
11°P9P0'
last scene otall,that ends this strange,eveat,
tyl platory, a second childishness, and were ob. .
&ion ; sans teeth, sans eyes, tun taste r sane
everythiag.-81takespeare.
is PUEUUIED EVERT IVZDNIEDAT IfOICIIN4,
AdverthOng Rates:
CIIOOEINO A CAREER
--o--
WHAT MEN NEED. WIVES IVli.