• Wm. 0 Clitomo;
E. B. HAWLEY &
.t.
PUBLISHERS OP
E. B. Hawley,
THE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT,
AND GENERAL JOB PRINTERS,
Hon! ruse, Susquehanna eouNly, PO,
Orrice—Meet Side of Public Avenue
Business OEuds
BURNS & NICHOLS,
in Drugs, Stedietnes. Chemical!, Dyr‘'
.3.„•sints,..tits, Varnish. Liquor.. Spices Pane)
r .cle.s.enteut Sedlcieee. Perfumer) and Tolletdr
c,es. Irereecription. carob:illy enzaposinded.—
lines 'flock, Sloatrose.Pa.
fiUll,ll5. Amos Nionora.
21. 1372
E. P. EINES, M. D.
tirAt ate of the Co!varsity of Michigan. Ann Arbor.
and sleo or Jarersoo Medical CoHope of PhILL•
delphla. 1874, has retneord to Prlondstiltee. wham
xdi stood to all call• to his profession a. asual..-
11,..druer lu Jessie Llostorers house. Office the same
a•
Fr 3e ode•ille, Pa., Apeti /Mb., 1874.—Gm.
S1;0411,4. TURBELL
COCI.E.LI.OII s 7 Lsw
No. 120 Broadway, Now York City.
Attend. to all kinds of Attorney 'knitter's, add-itoow
duet. wares to all the Court. of both the Standard - a
i'et Ire Slate*.
Fa .1. 1874 -1.
DR. h IV: SMITE,
dezereir. Rooms at hla dwelling , nextdoornorth Of Dr
oir Old Foundry street. where he Would bo
happy Its are all thole to want of Dental - t1 oft. - lie
(yelp torsodent that he can plesseall. both In quality of
wort pod zn price. Odic° boars from 9 A. k. to 4 T.*
NI era rm.,. Feb. 11, 1814—lf
VALLEY HOUSE.
atRAT iIEMD, PA. Situated near the Erie Railway De
pot. Is • large IWO commodious hutise, has andetree
ni
a tnorouUb ps.. Newly Ihruisneil Comas and • cep.
.4...tuseuta.sp len did ta tries.n Ild all thugs commis
lug a diet einem lintel. HENRY ACKERT.
Proutletur.
R. T. t E. IL CASE,
HARNESS-MAKERS. Oak Herness,lighi and heavy
st ...rest cash price's. Also, Blankets, Brant Blau
Sets, Whips and everything pertaining to the line
es...per 'Sun the cheapen. Repairing done prompt.
iv Au,/ it. good tityln.
ilout.oer, Ps.. uct. R 9.18.73.
THE PEOPLE'S dIABEA T.
l'un.ur Hams, Proprietor.
nod Nailed Meats, name, Pork, Bologna Ban
of :ay beet quality, constantly ma Winn, at
yriue to BUIL
atonic-se, Pa,, Jan, 14, 1879.-la
BILLINGS STRO UL.
kli AND LII h 1.:(3,14ANC:k ACENT. Al
ga,,lne”attandeo to promptly,ou fair terms. Office
Area door cast of Mr Leak o' WOl. ❑. Cooper A Co.
Yusllr Avenue, Montrose, Pa. Atg.t.lBo.
sly IT. IS:1.1 .311.1.150 e JSUOVD.
CHARLET MORRIS
TUE HAYTI BAmtlElt, has moved hls shop to the
ne Utl °pont by K. McKenzie d Co., muere be le
pr, pared to d.. e,I kluos of work In ble line...Lich as ma
ll et. ital.. pulls. etc. All work done on short
noL.cc and pen.... Pi... coil and see me.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW, hare r.ruoved tutbeß
I.4..yustte Um Label/ limo..
R. B. Lrrms,
Ulm. P. Lrrn.t.,
U. L. BLAK.r...Lcs.
I=E!
PEn LER In Poole. Platitalnl, Hall Paper. Near./
pert, Pocket lull. ry. htere..te.plc Clem, lault.ok
N.. uns. tic, Neil Ctuut to the Poet °Mee, 510ntr.....
Pa. K . N. IitkANIS.
119211511
EXCHANGE HOTEL
M. J. lIARRLNOTOII ertetto. to Inform tbepobllettat
Having rented the Ittx.clutuge Uwe tu hloulpure, hi
it is.• pritkiAred We traveling publli
to tiro:claw...4) , W
.tt.tatrott. Aug. b,
IL BUI:RTTI
Dealer .n Staple and Fancy Vu Glooxls,CrOckery, Third-
Mei, Iron, SttIVES, Drage. One, and Paiute. Daub
and Shoe-, Hate and Cap., Fare, BOW° Rah.. °ro
t. rice, Pririalmi, 6c.
i a., Nov, 6, '72—tf.
DR D. A. LATHROP,
A tqatulaters 6ttorao Tligati.t. darns. a tSfo Foot of
Cheetuut Street. Can gull cofteol in a-I Chroutc
heeas..
Montrose. Jan. 17. '72.—no3—.L
DR. S. W. .DAYTO.N,
LITSICIAN & 81:111GICON, tenders his services to
toe citizens of Great Bend and vicinity. °Menet nit.
residecce. opposite Barnum florae, CA Bend stance.
Sept. Ist. tf
LEWIS KNOLL,
SHAVING AND HAIR DRESSMG.
hop to the new Poen:dice halldlne, - where be will
ne found n*dy to attend all who they want anythlnB
n his !leo. Montrose Pa. Oct. 13 NM
CHARLES N. STODDARD,
leaier In Boots and Shout, Hata and Caps. Leatberano
nodloge, Stain street, tat door below Boyd's Rune.
Wort made to.l order, and repelling done neatly.
ol.truse Jan. 1 1870.
DR. W. L. RJOIL4ILD8011",
f•dYSICIAN & 14LTICGEON, tenders Me 'professions
•<rrrce,, to the citizens of Montrose end vicinity.—
ti dice at hlerwilder is, on the corner east of tiayr. &
troy. Foundry. (An¢• 1. 1869.
BCO FILL d DEWITT.
Attorney, at Law• and Solicitors In Bankruptcy. Office
do i 9 Court ntrcct, orcr Lau National hank. Bing
hamton, N. 1. ' w■. 11.8coviLL,
MZMMI
I E= 2
lonler In Drags Medicines, Chemicals, Paints, ODs,
Up: etude, Tests, :vices, Fancy Goods, Jewelry . Per-
Ninety, Brick Block, Sioncr,es, Pa. Established
(Feb. 1, 1/3711._
LAW OFFICE.
ITCH St WATSON. Attorneys at lan, at the old office
of Bewley a Pitch, al.:sucrose. Pa.
L 1. race. Pg.. IL, 'LL.L
A. 0. WARREN,
rruILNEY A LAW. Bonnty, back Pay: PCOIIOII
nod warm on Claims attended to. °MC! , Or
.00r Boyd'a Store. 34 nbtrort.Po. (An. 1.'69
W. A. CROSSMON,
lltorury at Law, °bar at the Coati House, 1r the
t omotivalutkee• °Mee. W A. Caossaos.
NI untrue, Soot. .187 L—ti.
I=9
ClviL ENGEM= /Inn
• F. U. address. Prim]kilo Forte,
tinsgovhanno Co., Pa.
JOHN GROVES,
•,:floN ABLE Tnt4JK, A U.ontroae. Pa. Stipp over
,:haudler's store. MI 4dere filled In tlraterateatyla.
• 4 c lone on snort notice. and warranted to fit.
W. W. SMITH,
A BIN CT AND CHAIR MANUFACTURERS.—You
of Moto •treet. Montrose, Pa. jaug. 1. 1869.
M. C. SUTTON,
AUCTIONEER, and lasea►sez AGENT,
.al 621.1 Peleudevllle. Pa
D. W. SEARLE,
A TTORNEY AT LAW, office toyer the store of M.
Jesuuer.l la the Brick Block. Montrose Xt. 1.&11/69
J. B. it A. 11. MeCOLLUM,
ATTORIGITI AT Law Office over the Bank, Montrose
Pa. Montrose, May 10, 1071. tr
AMI EL Y,
Ad&ess,;Brooklyn,Pa
AUCTIONEER
J4.ne I. lel4.
XPENEL
JOB PRINTING
Mar.oosztect
A - e"ris IS OFFICE. CHEAP.
Try XIV.
IA 0 NTROSE DEMOCRAT.
£WO DOLLARS PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
.VOLUME" 31.
—o—
Ont from the blinding glare.
Away from the reckless crowd,
Where the wine flowed free, and the ribald
Jest
And the songs were wild and loud.
Away from them all she fled,
For a flame consumed her soul,
And she hurried on as the clock struck
twelve,
With a slow and solemn toll.
Yes, twelve. 'Twas the midnight hour,
And the glimmering stars looked down,
And the gloomy night with its shadows
dark,
On theoutcast seemed to frown.
"Oh! where shall Illy I" she moaned,
Then came on the night's chid breath,
In a voice that seemee like a serpent's hiss:
"Fly Into the arms of death."
"My beart,ob I my breaking heart,
Can it never again know rest?
Oh, God I for en hour of the time gone by,
When It throbbed on a mother's breast.
"Too guilty, ala.s! to die.
When it seems such a crime to live,
With none to utter a word of hope,
Or my harrowing sins forgive.
"Down 'nth the very dust
I kneel, but 1 pray in vain,
And something says to my pleading soul :
'Crushed, never to rise again."'
No, "never to rise again,"
Floats past like a dying moan,
And the outcast stood by the river's brink
In the gloomy nlght'alone.
Away in the far off South,
The clouds began to rise,
And a mist that told of the coming storm,
Spread over the starry skies.
And the river looked dark and cold,
And the wandering night winds sighed,
And a voice that murmured, "Here is rest,"
Came up from the foamy tide.
And there on the brink she paused,
And sh• gazed with a frenzied eye ;
To her it was only a curse to live,
And a terrible thing to die.
Mid her thoughts were as lightning swift,
As she stood by the rushing stream,
Eor a vision fair of her childhood's home,
Came back like a fleeting dream.
Fes, there on the verge of death,
• She thought of her happy youth,
Btu, oh; what pangs and sorrows since
Those days of her love and truth,
Had tortured her aching heart,
And troubled her burning brain
And she thought of the crimes that on her
soul
.`; - Had fixed such a damning stain.
~ltd she thought of the broken vow,
Ckf•OnesheAnsd Invert tocrweilr. , -
But he Was one of the happy world,
What mattered it it she Jell.
Yes, what was it all to hint
If she slept in a pauper's grave Y
He lived ; and his triends and neighbors
said :
"He is pure, and just, and brave."
But a breath of the chilling wind,
With a moaning sound swept by,
And it seemed to say to her troubled soul
"'Tis time, 'tis time to die.
You are lingering much too long,
Plunge Into the wintry wave,
The flood shall turnish a winding sheet,
And rtst In a quiet grave,
"The sneers of the mocking crowd,
And the pangs of a tortured soul,
You shall not feel when you rest with me,
And the waves above you roll."
Then ahe uttered a frantic cry,
And she muttered a feeble prayer,
And trembling stood oa the verge of death,
But a friendly hand was there.
"Stay, sister, stay !" she heard,
In a voice at. low and sweet,
She thought that an sagel pure bad come
Her poor lost soul to greet.
To meet it, and bear ft far
From the sorrows of earth, away,
So like to an angel's yotce it seemed,
As it murmured, "Sister, stay."
===
" `Sister v Who calls me so
'TM years, yes, yes, 'tis Vara,
Since that endearing woritwas mine."
Then the fountain of her tears
Was stirred. and Hui walnan wept,
Wept tears that tempted to hear
Her guilt and her sone - ea - from her soul,
And wash away her care.
And a worn= held tier hand,
And SIM plead with a tearful eye,
And She spoke of hope and a world to come
As the Ode went rushing by.
`.'Come back to-the world and life,
There U . .nrk, good work to do,
Yes, mant*Mroken heart to bind,
Yes, mithirho fell like.you.
"Who lured by a promise false.
Have learned, and sisal too late
That the wtiriti is cold, and that men betray
Oh, 436 a Cwhat a cruel fate.
Once home and its hopes were Wein,
Yes, love and a mother's kiss ;
But step by step they have wandered far,
To come to a scene like this.
"Came; come to a quiet home,
You shall find forgiveness there;
To drive from your memory every thought,
Of to-nig'it and your dark despair.
You say that you long to die,
That•the past like a withering flame,
Consumes your heart; that your very soul
Is crashed by a load of shame.
"But here by your side I pray,
Oh, God! for's soul I plead, •
Yes, I ant sent by the power above
To you in your, hour of need.
You will follow Me? Oh, my prayer
Is beard, and the world seems bright
You will go with me, and sin no more ?
1 have saved a soul to-night.
"A star in the heavenly crown,
That I sttiva for and hope to win,
Behold, for theweeplig woman's son!,
Was blackened with guilt and sin.
I followed bey step by step,
I knew by her mien and eye, .
And Iterdttrki 'despair and her muttered
words,
'flat etie sought fors place to die.
POETRY.
TILE OUTCAST.
MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1874
"I followed her step by step.
In spite or the Midnight gloom.
On, on, and dortt to the water dark,
Intent on.a fearful doom.
She la saved and the fool may scoff,
And the cultiAnd proud may sneer,
I have seed bet kneel, and have heard her
PraS.
And I knew that her God was near
"Even life is a transient dream,
An hour or a fleeting breath.
We breathe, we rive, we hope, we fear,
And then we yield to death.
And time with a Current swill,
Sweeps on like a rushing tide,
Then why should the penitent he spurned,
Or her tearful prayer denied."
On from the blinding glare,
Away front the revel loud,
The outcast fled with a whirling brain,
Away from the realess crowd.
Tea, wicked and wild with wine,
By guilt and sin-enslaved,
She lett them nil at the midnight hour,
And the Magdalen was saved.
STORY TELLER
"NO CARDS."
-o
"My dear Countess," I said, "I assure
you I never gamble bemild my means,
and loos• neither bead or temper which
ever way luck gos, I play fur amuse
ment in a town where all play—men and
women—"
"Nut all, sir," broke in my companion,
curling ner pretty lips with disdain, not
unnungled a ith hit/Ilion, "I and many
here never do so simply to kill time.—
You seem to forget a hat is pleasure to
you may be death to others."
Curds were alwaya a source of conten
tion between the charming Countess Col
lini mail myself.
Trave ing through Italy, I made her
acquainirtic , at N—, a small town the
in ',shush ts of which were much given to
games of chance, I liha foulid the Conn
tens so cl arming that 1 instantly pitched
my tent hcrt• to enjoy her society, and,
as I hav d l said,tor annisi-inent offer drop
ped into the Casino for an hour ur so
duriag, the evening. Being at Rome. I
did as Romans d,d. that was all ; but it
brought down upon me the Countess's
wrath.
She had Fved ranch in England, spoke
our language p,-rfecily, and had so am
otir tnenn , r6 that she appeared
but half !tali .n. She was very beauti•
lid, but looked more no when she aus
most excited. The subject of gambling
always rendered her u, and I own to
indwging my admiration by fie
gnently bringing it n; , on the lapis.
•'I really must give it up.'' I repentant
ly said, one esening, after a Entire than
astially hot passage of arms. '-I don't
care about it. Arid she is evidently more
annoyed than she even Coll 18 , 44,8, and I
wunlan't vex h-r for worlds."
The game was just commencing. I
carelessly put down my stakes. I won.—
I left the liar and what it had gained on
the color and won again and again. In
deed a tide of luck had set in my favor.
People crowded round ; but my atten
lion was most attracted by a man, shah.
bill attired, opposite m e . He w a s an
It black haired, black !Wa;
tached, thin and Laggard. He staked
small amon tits, but invariably lost. Ill
lurk pursued him.
I noticed him from the avidity with
which he watcned the heap of gold and
notes ever increasing before me.
Indifferent to snevess,l put down more
r cklesidy. Still I won, until the game
stopped. I had broke❑ the bank.
I was placing my heavy gains safely
away in my breast coat pocki.t, when a
voice addressed me.
"You have been lucky to-night, signor.
Englishmen always are."
1 turn , d, it was the lialint). A ghast
ly smile was on his brow and a strange
wddoess in his countenance.
"Yes, signor " I answered. "Yen should
have backed my play, then I might have
ri-turm-d the compliment."
"i'mck such plttr !" he muttered ; "it
was the•mil one's hick ?"
‘Sigaor, yon played recklessly !"
A fro tid coming up. the Italian moved
away ; hot I saw, with some anxiety, he
kept hig glance furtively fixed on me.
"This man is dangerous:" I thought,
"Ft's hardly safe, I fancy, for me to carry
this money." But I kept a sharp look
out oh my, way home, and reached my
apartment in satety.
It was late in the afternoon, when next
day. I called on the Count 's&
Sivunr M .Iville," she said im
mediately accosting me. "So you broke
the hank lag night ?"
"Then the news has reached you : 0 "
"It always travels fast,' she responded
drily.
I began self-extentudion as usual when
she stopped me.
"Stay I Let us say no more on that
satij , ei just now. I have a visit to make.
Will y. it net as cavalier ?"
I accepted the (ART, anu the Countess
retired.
She soon came hack, dressed for walk
ing, when u•e set forth.
As we went. I perceived something had
evidently goge wrong with my compan•
mn. She was grave and talked but lit
tle. I was at last about to comment up
on it, when she stopped before a high,
wretched honse in a poor street.
"Ic le here T have to call. A wretched
abode, Mr. Melville; but will you come
with me ?"
"II it. were the unmentionable region
itself, dear Countess.l would follow you,"
I rej - dited, bowing gallunt!y.,-;
Whereupon we went into the dark.
close-smellinz passage. and mounted up
the stairs unlil nearly under the tiles.
Here she knncked at the door. I heard
snbs within ; but no answer coming, the
Countess entered.
Never had I beheld a scene of such
misery. The wretched ro.im was almost
hare of furniture, and on a chair by the
table, on which her arms and Thee rested,
was a woman, with d ahevelled I air,weep
ing passionately ; write t‘vo petty. bot
ill•clwl children clinging her dress,
lit , ed their tiny voices with their moth.
er's.
Devoted to the Interests of our Town and County
The Countess approached and address
ed her in soothing tones, which calmed
her grief.
Then, she asked, "Line, may I go into
the next room with this gentleman ?"
The weeping women bowed usseni,and
niy acetone beckoned me to follow. It
was a miserable bedchamber ; , while on
the heal, evidently lay the cause of the
woman's tears—a body covered by a sheet
"Her husbaod," I exclaimed, mterrog.
at rely.
"Yes. a suicide I lie made way with
himself last night. Mr. Melville,' pro.
ceeded the Countess, solemnly, "yester
day you broke the bank, and depnved
wife of a husband, and her children of a
father. His few coins increased your
gum. Do you know the face ?"
She drew the sheet aside. I shrank
back with self reproach. it. was the
Italian—the man whom I suspected in
tended to raise his baud againi.f: to". It
had been lifted against himself.
"This is my own woak," I ejaculated.
“Not altogether. It was the reward of
play !" she answered. "Linn Decarni ono.
nay lady's maid ,and as petty as she was
good. She married this man, who ev.
well to do. They settled here. Gaming
attracted. him. All else was neglected ;
he sold everything he could for the he
ides. You see the result. Lest night he
returned penniless. Ho forced from his
wife cents she had kept to get bread for
the children, and bought the poison
which hats caused his death !"
"Cover that gliastiv; accusing face, I
said with loathing : "it will haunt me to
my grave. Let us go from here ; the air
is stilling !"
She obeyed. We returned to the ot ti
er room. There I hud my purse, con
taining fifty pounds, in the widow's lap,
and withdrew. I was not, yet I felt my
self the indirect cause of her husband's
ruin.
"Poor wretch ! when I saw him at the
tables, suicide was in his mind ?" I said,
when the Countess joined me.
"Yes," she remarked, slowly ; "von
placed for amusement, he for hfe. The
stakes were widely different. Ah, it is
your easy, rich people who are criminal.
These wretehtd hou,es would nut be
kept open for such as he. Stint up, the
weak would not be fascinated, and such
ae Decaen , driven to evil deeds."
•Countess, your lesson has been a se
rious Jut effectual one:"
"I believe it. Mr. Melville. I knew I
had not misunderstood you ; so let me
ease the pain you now suffer. Lina has
not lost much in her limiband's death.—
Living. he would ever have kept her poor,
She is gOOO and tutinstrious, sod wilh
your kind munificence and my help will
soon have once again a comfortabli
home.
I dined with the Countess that day :
and this year we are both in Loudon.—
She is married—so am 1 ; that is, &he is
my wife. Linu is also married. When
we go to Italy we make it a point to call
on her, and when I see her bright smiles
and rosy, laughing, children, I cannot
but contrast them with those other tacos
I had first beheld in that wretched attic.
I think, too of the ghastly face of her
first husband, I stick more firmly to my
motto, which is—store in a quiet social
rubber—"No Cards."
REPSY HARROWS RETICULE
After mother had gone to bed I went
up stairs and brought down my writing
elet.k. There were some sheets of papt.r
and delicate envelopes, which had been
for months stored within,a.id a silver pen
and pen handle, which had been a birth.
day present in my school days.
I took them out, and the ink•bottle
also. The ink was thick, for we did not
write much, either of us. and I brought
the vinegar cruet from the closet and
thinned it to my liking. Then I tat
down and looked at the paper. Then I
went to the stairs and listened to see it
mother was not coming. Then I ac
tually seated myself, squared toy elbows
and began to write. This is what I
wrote :
DEAR Miss H ARROW :— I am a cow
ard. Not, I hope, in one sense, but eel.-
Itunly as regards von. Fora year I hare
loved you. Yet., I would, had you been
a queen. Perhaps I am a coward be.-
cause I do not cherish a hope that you
hke me.
To-morrow you and I will tide togeth
er. To-morrow I had made np my mind
to try my fate, but I know I shall not
dare to speak, so I write. I will give you
this letter to read at home. If the an
swer be "No," it will be easier for both of
tie. Will you try and think enough of
me to be my wife one day ?
I love you better than I love my life,
and all do all I can to make life happy
for you. With a little hope I can make
my way in the world as other men do ; I
am your.g and strong, and not utterly
Ignorant. If .1 am to have that hope,
give me some sign—give me a line,
your name only, anything to show me
what you mean. If lam to be misnrahle
—well then make me no answer. Si
lence shall mean "no." I could not bear
to see you or speak to you alter that.
ALMON' CRAIG.
I sealed the note in the daintiest en
velope I possessed.and wrote Hepsy liar
eow's name oil the buck and hid it in the
desk from mother's Pyes—sharp eves,t hat
looked after me anxiously as I drove
away with old Dobbin the following eve
ning.
It was a pleasant drive, and a merry
dunce and supper, and as time went on
felt glad that I had written the letter.—
For I could not have said what it said
for me. It was at that moment when we
were driving homeward that I mustered
courage to ask for the little reticule that
she carried, as the other girls did, with a
brush and some flowers in it, for they
bud to touch up the curls and braids of
ter the windy ride before the dance.
"Why do you want it ?" she asked cu
riously.
"To put something in it which you
must not look at till you reach home," I
said.
"You axons? my curiosit, I
.shull look
the instant I have a lamp,' ehe answer
ed.
And as she spoke I had dropped thy
letter and snapped - the clasp.
Not a word more could I speak, but at
the door I tried for the first time to kiss
her. Her lips eluded mine, and I dared
not repent the attempt.
I drone home and waited, waited hope
fully, ItA I knew afterwards, for an an.
.wer. None came—a day, a week, a
month,. She laid piirti the u little.cold
, mileiess bow. lum certainly rejected.
"Mother," said I that night, "we must,
hate some one to (arm the place. I urn
going to some city."
"Why ?" said she.
"To make nip fortune," I said.
"For that girl, the schoutma'am ?" ask
ed moth, r, bitterly.
" Na, never for her," I said.
Mother knelt down beside me as I sat
on a ow stool. She put her hand on my
snoulder and looked straight into my face.
"She did not accept me," I rand coolly.
"The haughty minx !" said my moth, r.
"I—" then sne buret into tears.
"And that to part as ?" she said.
"Not if you will go with me," I un
-8%, Bred.
But she would not leave her home, so
I went alone. in the fros y morning. as
turned to look hack at the little village
front the top of the old stage, I saw the
children filing in at the school.
house door, and caucht a glimpse of
Hepsey's dress beyond—only u fold of
her dress, but I knew it. The school
bell rang; but it did not say •tarn again
turn again." to me, as it should have
done, had I been such a prophet as
Whittington.
I made my fortune. I Laid a cousin
in Philadelphia who was deep in the nys
teries of Third Street. He helped me
so did Luck or Fate. In five years I wars
a modi web 9 rich man. My mother
wantrd nothing but my Ires , nee. She
would riot come to me, but the urged me
to cum, buck to her.
At first my heart was too weak to be
trusted among those old familiar scenes.
To hay • met Hepiv would Inane been too
much to b.-ar. But time helps all. At
the end of five years during which time
I had not visittd home, I wrote to my
mot tier :
I am canning home again, since you
will not live with me. Expect me to
morrow.
And on the [mirror I went. Sly
mother had not chanced much. But I
had grown a long light b .ard, and was a
youth no huger—a fact which troubled
her. There were changes in the place,
ton.
Girls were married—ol•l -people dead.
The tallest, hamornest man I remember,
had met wall an accident, and crawled
about a wretch. tt cripple. The church
was rebuilt. and tile lin L 4 in the hollow
had been burot. A factory had risen
and the factory people's houses were
about it. Instead of the old franc
sch“ol house was a brick building with
many windows.
Who was the teacher rum ? Was she
there—Hepsey H rru w ? I dared not
Ask:
Idly I sanntered about the IltlnSP.
painted and refurnished now: and idly
in the evening of my second day at home
I went out to the shed where the little,
old carriage stoodthe old shabby thing,
with a green latch on the cushions.
'•it ain't been ton •he, since you left,
Aheo• !," said my mother. "Poor old
Dfd,bitt ! flow smart he used to take it
round! I fdr al if I'd :us t a finend when
he di.d. Reiner - 04er ins palchiu . the
cuslino. ?"
She lifted it as she epoke. Fora be
fined it dropped something. What ? Of
let ther.blite with mold, crushed by its
long ltittg under the co.ho n , but a r•ti
cule for all that. Hepsey Harrow's reti
cule! I opened it. There lay a comb
and a brash ; all artificial rose—how well
I remember it in her hair!—aid my let-
ter, that she bad never read, never seen,
never known of.
••What's the mat ter,Almoti ?" asked my
mother.
For a few moments I did not know.—
At last I spoke.
"It is Miss Harrow's reticule.'
"She must have lost it when yOll took
her a riding ." said my mother. "Jto4
like her, to lose it and not Know it• ex
travagant critter. She's teaching yet,
likely to—she ain't married no doubt
she'll be an old maid, and serve her
right."
The res' my mother said to herself
for I waited for no more
I took the r• ticule in my hand and
went over the long-forgotten path toward
the schoolhouse. School was over. A
figure skim: alone in the gate. I did not
know it at first. But on a narrow*. r tiew
I found it was it mature sdit.ion of Hep
sey Harrow's slender frame—not so slen-
der now, but pretty. just as pretty in the
face, and fresh and buxom.
I walked up to her. She mice me a
puzzled look. Then her cheek flushed.
"Mr. Craig," she said.
"Yes, Miss Harrow." I answer. d. "I
um here to restore your property. You
lost a reticule five years :Igo. Toglay I
find it. There's something in it which
I asked von lo look at when alone. I
make the same request now. May I see
von this evening?"
She bowed. I walked away. T ,
night I went once more to see her. She
had been weeping ;the letter lay on her
knee.
"Such an old relic of those foolish md
times," said she.
I took her hand. "You never answer
ed it, Hepsey," I said. "Will you un.
ewer it now ?"
"After all this time ?" she said.
"Yes," I said.
She said nothing. and I ki;sed her.—
She did not resist nie this time as she had
hi fore.
Our wedding day was a quiet one, and
our lives h ye been quietly !nippy Iron)
that very day to the present h,iur.
A fellow who bid under the sofa at an
informal Boston missionary meeting,says
that the thirty five ladies spoke twice of
the down trodden heathen and more than
hundr'd times of a new kind of hair
dye.
Teacher—" Peter, you are such a bad
boy that yon are not fit to sit in the cm•
patty of good boys on the benca. Ounte
up here and ant by me, air."
FIFTY CTS. EXTRA IF NOT IN ADVANCE
MISCELLANEOUS READING
(For We Drauczat,j
A PICTURE.
How gladly I turn titan my couch or pain,
%Yidle wearily tossing this aching brain,
Where the cheering sunlight is stemming
through
My half-curtained wiadtm, a lovely view
Of heaven and earth is pictured to me ;
Shall I write of the beauty my soul can see ?
For a while I forget all Material things,
This heavenly light seems of balmy wings
That waft me afar front this sick close air,
Away from life's weakness, its sorrow, and
care,
Up, up, through the blue and the golden so
near,
Till it seems heaven's gate to me will appear.
'Tis Indian Bummer, a cairn soft glow
Encircles the earth, and nwuntain'a brow,
And nature at rest--while she basks In the
sun—
&ems to dram of a glorious future begun.
All hazy and peaceful, soft, dreamy, and still,
Is the impress of beauty, oa each purple hill.
Nearer my vision, but wttened In Imo,
Are moss-grow., rocks, or is grayish blue;
Reaching tar out and above all these
Are branches of grind old forest trees;
Eminaeing the whale, is a pear:y sky,
And the smiling earth yields a sweet reply.
Down on one side of my window frame,
Are maple leaves—red and yellow—like flame,
The other has branches, gracefully hung,
Of small pretty elm leaves, tastefully strung
And part of the searu'd, dark, trunk can be
seen,
With delicate mosses strewn between.
This elegant tracery, brown and gray,
Of tiny moss cups, and emerald spray,
Can ararcely he seen wlitve I recline,
But the beauty is there in every line.
So if I have failed to reveal it to thee,
'Tis a lovely picture mine eyes can aee.
[For the DZIOCRAT.I
SPECULATION.
B Y D. H. 0
In cold or warm weather, men are ac
eusiumPd to inform each other of the
fact, when they meet; us it the very
speaking of their suffering would bring
some measure of relief. So, in three hard
times, conversation among all classes.
turns upon business, as if talking of the
dullness would make business any better.
There w.oild hr a great deal more sense
in such p.t.lk if business men would go a
little beneath the surface, and discuss the
terrible cause of this dullness, and more
pod sense still, if. when searchaig for
the causes they did not rest with false and
inad q tate 0.144. sine* because it
has I,come a habit.
It is all well enough to talk of patience
and to advise met/ to practice it. Pro
bably none of us will guilt too much of
this excellent virtue ; but it would be
much more to the point to tell us how to
avoid the r-currence of such occastods,
for its exercise iu the future.
The railroads, which happen to be so
unfortunate. as to hear so much of the
blame. have proved unproStahle, not half
su touch because they are premature,a.s that
the money to build them has cost spa
high rates of interest, and the towns and
cities overburdened with debt fur
their sakes, would not feel the
heavy burden if it were not for such high
rates. Even as it is, the r ilroads have
advanced t .e value of properly all along
their lin.•s to such an extent, that the
towns and cities, are by no metals the
loosens. What the railroad and the awl
cultural i..terest, as well as thr
nn reantilt, manufacturing, and all other
honest interests, in this country needs is
lower interest, and a currency of
nhvaryine value ; and if all would eom
bine their eff irts to secure this,we should
hay, a great deal less occasion to talk of
hnsiae+s hung dull as well as all otoe,
business men.
Abel at the present time the miners.
coal operators, merchants, all manatee
curers. and the farmers have a bard time
to m !heir husmess and themselves.
They have a struggling tight on their
hands, as,e,iiiist the evils growing out ot
shines of credit and sPeculations. This
find the danger of being overcome by de.
moralization begotten by the past was
and I he dishonest currency, by debts and
tuxes. Now, what do they gain ? They
are in the enemy's hands, 101 l it is their
business to know the strength o f their
enemy. The policy of puffery and false
hood, which answered so well a few years
ago, will not do in such times us these
In its day it was a curse, and now it is
an insult. The truth is always salutary,
and never more so than when the land
is coven d, as with snow, with the wreck
of once successful frauds. To tell the
truth is not to croak. Truth is the very
article wanted now. Tile progress to
wards better times is none the less rea
because it is not instant and on the ear
face• Consider only the magnitude of Ih
evil of investing. in the course of two or
three years, milli-ins of dollars in rail
roads which are paying nothing on the
cordial expended on them. Look at thn
next link in 'lie chain I The iron works
constructed and the coal mines •opened to
supply the material for railtoudii—all
now prostrate together. Consider the
towns and cities over-loaded with debt
incurred to build railroads. The stock
jobbers who formerly held the seats of
honor, where the voice of the "croaker"
etas not heard. But why go on in this
manner? Is it not plain enough that
such a waste of productive l ower, such a
wide departure from the true course of
industry, such demoralization in all class
es of society. cannot be recovered from
in a single day ? Are we going to let
things go in this way, feeling certain that
we shall recover from our long d.bauch,?
Are they rli 'croakers" who refuse to be•
liege this? We judge not.
It is not stifficiont that we are praised
by the good : we have failtd in our duty
somewhere if we are not cursed by the
bad.
Unbelief is the eniifidenee.of all sins,
and binds thew all dein upon-ns.
THE MONTHOBE: DE3IOCBIT
Coogan. all be Lorillard GtorMlDee v.l of .t tn
eho. Anecdote.. Hboellam unr Itt divx.( ctn., s ,
•nce,und a nibble clam uf aura rt striur..th. , , •
One square.(X °fon limb spa raja watt,. or !ego .$3
1 MOM b. $1.13; mouths , $2.50; 6 41km/tr.. 84 SO; I
year. Kau. A librral a Irroont on adrertl.amenta o s
yrester length. Butner,. Locals. tO tta. a tine tor AM
I tsurti on, andb eta. a liar cacti et/banyan( inrartlan.—.
Itarttava maid deaths, I tea ; übltaatire,lLl ti.. a Hay.
NUMBER 46.
Reading without purpose is sauntering
not exercise. More is got Irom one book
on which the thought settled for a Zell
iiite end in knowledge, than from libra
ries skinuned over by a wandering eye. A
cottage flower gives honey to the bee, a
kung's garden none to the buttertly.- - --
Youths who are destined , for active ca
reers, or anibttious of ditaitcrion in such.
forms of literature as requires freshness
of invention or originality of thought,
should avoid the :taint of intense study
for many hours ut u stretch. There is
p in all tension .4 the Intellect be.
eanal which effort is only wasteof arena' .
Fresh ideas do not modal spring up
within a weary brain ; and whatever ez
!moats the mind nor Only enkelded its
l amer, but narrows its scope. We Often
see men a h i have over-read at college,
d, ri tg upon life languidly us if they
were about to leave it. They have not
he vigor to cope with their own getera
tion. Mr their own generation is young,
and they have wasted the nervous energy
.v Inn supplies the sinews of war to veuth
an its consist fi.r fume or fortune. i;turfy
with regularity, at settled hunt... Those
the ("amino are the best, it they :iii
be secured. The Man who has acqnir d
the habit of study, though for only one
every day in the year, and keeps to .
the one thing studied till it is mastered,
will he startled to see the way he has
made at the end of the twelvemonth. lie
is seldom o‘erweirked alto can centrive,
to be ui advance 'of his ivork. If yolf=
.tave three weeks betorr yitti to learn
.ontetiting widen a matt of average quick -
oess could learn in a week. learn it the
first week not the third. Business
atched is buainess well done, hat bud
aro; hurried is business ill dime. In
learning what others have thought, et is
Well to keep in practice the potter to
lank for one's sell When an author has .
added to your know! dg., putt.e and Con
..idet if you can add nothing to his. Be
aot contented to have Learned a problem
by heart; try and deduce from it a
rollary nut in the book. Spare no pains
.n collecting details before you generalize
sit it is only when details are generaliz
ed that a truth is grasped. The tendency
to generalize is universal with all Men
evi o achieve great success, whether in art,
nteruturt or action. I.!he habit of gen
eralizing, though at iirst gained with rare
and caution, secures, by practice, a com
prehensiveness of judgment and a
promptitude of deeteittn;which seem t 3
the crowd like intuitioite of genius
THE LENGTHENING YEARS OF
MAN.
In an interesting paper by Dr. Edward
Jarvis, in'the filth aniutul repori of the
Nlassachusetts Board of Health, the fol
lowing vital statistics, past and present,
of various countries, strikingly show how
tine advantage of civilization has pro.
hinged life: In ancient Rome in the pe
riod of 200 to 500 years utter the Christ
ian era, the avenig , duration of life in
the most favored class wilt tiiirty years.—
In tip• present ceotury the average lon
evity of the same class is tifiy year& In
the sixteenth century the average longer.
ity in Geneva was 21.21 years ; ii merit
1814 mid 1833. it tilts 4060, and as large
it portion now live 70 as lived to 33, 300
years ago. In 1693 the BrittO Govern
!nen!, borrowed money by selling annui
ty/3 oil limes :rum infancy upward, hito d
o•i the basis of aver a ge linigevity. The
treasury received the price. and paid he
annul ies regularly as long as the annui
tants lived. The contrict was nnitually
4stis'aLtory and teolitable. Nicety seven
ins later Mr. Pitt issues. allot! er ton
tine or scale of annuities, on the busts of
the same exp clarion of life as in the pre
emits o 11[11r9. These latter uniiiiietti.ts,
however, liyed so much longer:than tlr.ir
predecessors that it proved a very eisily
loan to the Government. It •W . Of rani d
chat while t0,000.0f each ri-x in the first
too tine died under the age of 28, wilt 5,-
772 males and 6.416 females in the sec
ond tontine died at. the same age 100
years later. Th.• average lire of the tua
attilauts of 1693 was 20.5 years while
those of 1790 lived 33 years and 9 months
after they were 90 years old. From these
6tets. asks Dr. Jarvis, it tot life.
in mummy forms and manif stations, 'lnd
probably in a I, van, be expended in vig
or, intensity and- duration under &vont
hle circumstances. For this purpose it
onlv nea-scary that the circumstances
amid which, any form of life is p aced;
should be linnight in . = harmony with the
law appointed for its being.
The days of Summ-r grow longer as
w e go Northward,und the days of What r
shorter. At Hamburgh, iu Germany,
tha shortest day has seven hours and the
longest seeentern. 'At Stockholm, the
longest day has eighteen' and a half hours
and the shortest tke and a half. At St.
Petersborgh,the longest day hasitineteen
hours, and the shortest fivei, At Finland
the longt , St has twenty one and a half
hours. At Wandorbus, in Norway, the
day lasts from May 22d to July let, the
sun not getting beh.w the horizon during
the whole time, but skimming very close
tr it in the north. At Spltzbergen the
longest day lasts for three months and a
half.
To preve.it choking, break an egg In
to a cap, nod give it to the choking per.
son to swallow. If the white of one egg
does not answer the purpose, try another.
The white is all that is , necessary.
Greatneea stands upon a precipice. and
if prosperity carries a man nem. so little
beyond Os pita, it nrerbears and dashes
him to pieces.—Seneca. .
Itls not miserable to be•blind he on.
ly is.miserable who cannot. ,uequiesee. in
hit blindness wick fortitude.
When a noble life has prepared old age
it is not the decline it reveals bat the first
days of immortality..
The thr , e things most difficult ttre to
keel, a secret, to foiLmt an injury, and
make good use of leisure. '
II rCISLIBUZD ETIIIT VINDSVIDAT gONTLICI
Advents:ha Rates:
READERS AND WRITERS.