Win. 0 Omer.
E. B. HAWLEY & CO.,
E. B. Hawley,
THE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT,
AND GENERAL JOB PRINTERS,
Montrose, Susquehanna County, Pa
Omcs—Weet Side of Public Avenue
Business Cards.
BURNS & NICHOLS,
aBB In Drugs, Medicines, Chemical. Dye
/de, Paint.,oll., Varnish. Liquors, Spices.Pancp
,r t .cio I, Patent Medicines. Perfumer's:ld Toilet/it
em.. AV — Prescription. can:daily eonspounded.—
Brick Meek, Montrose, Pa,
ituaas.
Feb. 21. ten
E. P, IfIIYES, Y. D.
Graduate of the Ontseretty of ?Caton, Ann tabor.
18613. and also of Jeffersou Medical College of Phila.
delohla, ISM has returned to Prlendstrillee, where he
111 arteod to all calls to Ws precast= as asual.—
Residence to Jessie liosford's house. Offee the name
as heretotoro.
Prtendwille, Pa., April Mb., 18741.--din.
EDGAR A. runaiu
COrMILLOtt ST LAW.
No, 119 Broadway, New York cm,.
Attend► to all kinds of Attorno Business, and con
ducts eases in all the Court. of both the State and the
United State►.
Feb 11.1871-Iy.
DR. R. W. *11111127/,
I.IaNTIIT. Rooms at hie dwelling,heitnoornorth of Dr.
Mime., on Old Foundry Street, whom he would be
happy to see all those In 111112 t of Dental Work. Da
reel. eon ddent that be can pleue all. both In quality of
work and In price. Ofnco boon from 9 a.m. to 4 r. N.
Mootrara. Feb. 11.1874—tf
VALLEY HOUSE.
alLty BZID, P►. Sal:MCI:I filar the Erie Railway De
pot It a large and commodious house, bas undergone
a t borough rapalr. Newly tunnelled rooms and sleep.
tog ultartment.u,splendid tables.audallththgs compels.
loge cost clams Hotel. ILENRY ACREIPE.
sent. Wity.l43.-if. Proprietor.
B. T. & E. B. CASE,
LIARNBSS.RASERS. Oak Harness. light and heavy.
at lowest cash prime. Also, Blankets, Rreut Blau
hem, Whips. mid everything pertaining to the line,
cheaper than the ctieapesL Repairing done prompt.
ly and in good style.
Mont :o.e, Ya.. Oct. 0, 1871,
THE PEOPLES KABEET.
Pan.kir Hann, Proprietor.
Fresh and Salted Meats, llama, Pork, Bologna Sau
sage. etc., of the best qualm, constantly on band, at
prices to snit.
Montrose, Pa,. Jan. 14. Ifine-Is
BILLINGS STROUD.
sRE AND LIFE C.l/1 , 34ANC11 AOSNT. Al
nosiness attended to promptly, au fair terms. Office
brat door east of the bank of Wm. 11. Cooper & Co.
Public Avenue, Montrose, Pa. (Aug. 1.1869.
sly 17.1871.( Mammas STROUD.
CHARLEY MORRIS
THE HAITI SAMBRE, has moved bls shop to the
bonding occupied by H. McKenzie & Co., where he is
prepared to do ail kinds of work in his Une,such an ma
king switches, pod.. etc. All work done on abort
notice and print. low. Please call =dose me.
LI TTLES ct BLAKESLEE
ATTORNEYS AT LAW, have removed to their Nem
Ofice, opposite the Torben Rouse.
R. B. Larne,
tdoutro.e.Oct. 15, 18.13.
CIMMEI
DEALER in Boots. Ftattouery, Wall Paper, Newel •
piers, Pocket Cutlery, Stereoscopic Views, Yankee
Notions, etc. Next door to the Post OtElce, Montrose,
Pa. VI . B. BILANS.
dept. 80, 7371
EXCHANGE HOTEL
M. J. HARRLNOTON wishes to inform thepubllethat
haring rented the Exchange Hotel in Montrose, he
Is now prepared to accommodate the travelingpublic
in Fret-class style
Montrome. Aug. SS, 18:1.
EL BURR
treater sti Staple and Fancy On Goods, Crockery, Mod-
WSJ 0, Iron, Stoves, Drugs. Oils, and Paiute, Boots
and Shoes, lists sod Caps, Fars, Buffalo Robes. Gro
ceries, Provisions, Sc.
Now-Iltllord, I e... Nov, 6, "72—tr.
DR D. A. LATBROP,
administers Eiserno Tax:anat. Barns, a 5.10 Foot of
Chestnut street. Call and consul to a.l Chronic
Disease..
Montrose. Jan. IT, na.—noS---d.
DRS. IV. DAYTON,
& BURGEON, tenders his services to
the citizens of Great Bend and vicinity. Office at tie
residence. opposite Barnum lions., irt Bend village.
Sept. let. 180.-0
LEWIS K NOLL,
SHAVING AND HAIR DRESSING.
, hop In the new Posstoffiee building, where he will
be round ready to attend all who may want anything
In Si. line. Montrone Pa. Oct. 13 1869.
CHARLES F. STODRAHD,
)c slirta Boots and Shoes, Had and Caps, Leather and
Findings, Bain Street, let door below Boyd's store.
Wort made to order, and repairing done neatly.
Montrose Jan.l 11370.
DR. IV. L. RICHARDSOY,
PHYSICIAN & SURGEON, tender. hie sroresalona
servlcee to the , citizens of Montrose an vicinity.—
Office at alsraalder le, oaths corner cut of Sayro
Coro.. Foundry . fAng. 1. 1869.
SCOVILL 4* DEWITT.
Attorneys at Law and Solicitors in Bankruptcy. Office
No. la Court litrect,over City National Bank, Bing
hamton, N. Y. Wm. H. SCOTELL.
JIIIOO 18th. 11573.
ABEL TVILBELL.
Dealer in Drags Medicine.. Chemicale, Palate, 011 a,
Dye-etraffe, Teas, Spices, Fancy Geode. Jewelry, Per.
itimerT. Se., Betek Block , Montrufe, Pa. Enabliehed
1840. [Feb. 1, NTS._
LAW OFFICE.
►ITCII it WATSON, Attorneys at Law, at the old dike
of Bentley I Fitch, Montrose, Pa.
L. P. PITCO. [Jan. U. 'ILL w. W. winos.
A. 0. WARREN,
TTORISBY 4. LAW. Bounty, Back Pay. Pension
and Exemo _on Claim; attended to. Dace de•
,00r below Boyd's Store Bontrose.Pa. [An. 1.'69
W. A. CROSSMON,
Attorney at Law, Office at the Court licause, te the
Commteatoner'a Office. W. A. Cilosanos.
bleutrose. Beet. .1871.—U.
J. G. 1171 EATON,
CIVIL ENGIMIS lErt. Loan Przrrrron,
P. 0. address, Franklin Forks.
Susquehanna Co., Pa
JOHN GROVES,
rAsaioxesiorrenaa, Montrose, Pa. shop over
Chandler's Elora. All orders gilled in Orsteratestylt.
'string done on short notice. and warranted to fit.
W. W. SMITH,
.7ABINET AND CHAIR IitANIIPACTIMERB.—Yoot
of 11.8112.treet, Montrose. Pa. )s g. 1. 1869.
.M. C. SUTTON,
AUCTIONEER. and Isianancs AOLNT,
Nat Gatl Friendavllle. Pa.
D. W. SEARLE,
ATTORNEY AT LAW, once over the Store of M.
Desesner,ln the Beek Block. Montrose Ps. Leta 69
J. B. et A. IL IfeCOLLUM,
.1 rrosaav► AT LAW Office over the Bank, Maatroia
P►. Mantroaa, May 10.
Al f 1 EL Y,
Address, !Brooklyn. Pa
AUCTIONEER
dttue 1, lta4.
JOB PRI N TING
Zlsocristeca
AT THIS OFFICE. CHEW.
Pry Wm. -
MONTROSE DEMOCRAT.
TWO DOLLARS PER YEAR IN ADVANCE.
VOLUME 31.
Oh to keep them around us, baby darlings,fresh
and pure,
Mothers smile their pleasures crowning, moth
I=l
ere kiss their sorrows' cure;
Oh to keep the waxen touches, sunny curls,
and radiant eyes,
Pattering IL , etoind eager prattle—all young tile's
lost Paradise !
Ono bright head above the other, tiny hands
that clung and clasped,
Little forms, that close enfolding all of Love's
best gills were grasped ;
Sporting in the summer sunshine, glancing
round the winter hearth,
Bidding all the bright world echo with their
fearless, asreless mirth.
Oh to keep them; bow they gladdened all the
path tram day to day,
What gay dreams we fashioned of them, as in
rosy sleep they lay ;
How each broken word was welcomed, how
each struggling thought was hailed
As each bark went floating seaward, love be
decked, and fancy sailed I
Gliding from our jealous watching,gliding from
our clinging hold,
Lo ! the brave leaves bloom and burgeon, lo I
the shy, sweet buds unfold ;
Fast to lip, and .cheek, and tresses, steals the
maiden's bashful joy ;
Fast the frank, bold man's assertion tones the
sor , mts of the boy.
Neither love nor longing ke)s them ; soon in
other shape than ours
Those young bands will seize the weapons;build
their castles, plant their flowers ;
Soon a fresher hope will brighten the dear eyes
we trained to see ;
Soon a closer love than ours in those wakening
hearts will be.
Bo it is, and well it is so ; fast the river nears
the main,
Backward yearnings are but Idle; dawning
never glows again ;
Slow but sure the distance deepens, slow and
sure the links are rent ;
Let us pluck our autumn roses, with their sobs,
bloom content.
—o—
It is only a glove, Ted, a lady's glove:—
It has lain in the desk where I found it
For twenty long sears, but the freshness of
love
And the glory of youth cling around it.
Yes, there comes Ted, whenever I see that
glove,
A vision of music and dancing ;
And again, in my mind, the eyes of a dove
Into mine are tenderly glancing.
And I clasp once again in this hand of mine
That glove and the soft hand within it;
And I feel in the waltz, through the glare and
the shine,
That it throbs like a new caught linnet.
I feel her ambrosial breath on my cheek,
Like the scent of the linden blossom :
And I know that she loves (though she does
not speak)
B 9 the rise and fall of her bossom.
Well, I went to the Indies in '6O. Ted ;
And—and—Tnsh ! It's the brandy and wa
ter,
Why, when I came back she was dead—shc
was dead ;
And—l married Robinson's daughter.
Just hand me a light and a fresh cigar,
It is foolish to keep such a token,
When the girl who gave it is sleeping afar
In a land where the rest is unbroken,
CYRUS FORD'S TEMPTATION
-0-
A THANKSGIVING STORY
Jszoas Davrarr
'You'll be expecting company to-day,
sir?'
Simon Clayton looked over the top, of
the newspaper he was reading, to see his
housekeeper waiting for au answer.
'Why ro - -day ?' he said.. in a surly tone,
as if annoyed at the interruption. 'Why
to-day more than any other day. Do I
ever have company P
'But it is Thanksgiving day, sir, and
most folks have their kin around them,or
perhaps you are going out amongst your
own relatives, sir ?'
'No, I have no kin ! There is no rela
tive of mine with whom I break bread
either ern this day or any other.'
The .newspaper came between the
master of the house and the old house
keeper once more, but it could not quite
shut from his ears the murmur of the
good woman, as she left the room :
'Dear dear 1 What a pity ! And so rich
tool'
So rich He dropped the paper and
looked into the heart of the glowing grate
fire, thinking of the bank account, the
railway stock. the rows of houses, the
western lauds, the mine shares, the vari
ous investments that made his great
wealth increase year by year, scarcely les
sei.ed by the bachelor expense of his
handsome house.
So rich 1 So poor 1 Not one hand to
grasp his lovingly. Not one voice to
welcome him to a family gathering. In
his youth, before he had filled his puree,
a dark- eyed girl, Minnie Wayland, hail
loved him and bed won his heart, but pa
rents interfered, dismissed the penniless
clerk, and Minnie married a reputed
millionaire. Rumorsihtul reached him of
hie rival's ruin, bat nothiog definite,
though he knew the parents who had
taken the true lore from him rested as
der the daiseys years ago.
Then, stung by the refusal his poverty
bad brought him, he bad resolved to win
gold. Through hard work, bitter self
denial, a close, misery counting of every
pentlyAie bad made the nucleons-of for.
tune, and dollars rolled into his hands,
till he could laugh at the miserable sem
the Waylikods had told him Minnie's hus
band must secure.
He married then, and three bright
eyed boys weie boin to him, and died.—
Then a golden-haired girl lay in its moth
POETRY.
GROWING UP.
-o
ONLY A GLOVE
STORY TELLER
-0-
BY S. ANNIE FROST
-0-
MONTROSE, PA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1874
er's arms while the wife.i / ooked with
dying eyes into the stern Tiite that had
ever been kind and loving for her, and
from husband and babe floated into the
great hereafter. The babe became an
idol, growing iuto a fair child, a tender
woman, and when every loving thonght
of the lather's heart center e d in her, she
fled from him to wed poverty and degra•
dation.
Had it been poverty alone, the tnem
ory of his own youth would have stayed
Simon Clayton's refusal : but the lover
who sought Laura Clayton's hand was
an idler. and rumor said a gambler as
well. Handsome. courteous, well born,
he had won the girl a heart with well
feigned adoration, and the loving father
who sought to shelter her from certain
misery was deserted.
Then came the iron into Simon Clay
ton's heart, locking every k'nd impulse,
hardening every featute, she. 'ng on' all
charity all gentleness. He nad sent
back unopened every letter Lina wrote,
and lived a hermit's lire in the very heart
o!' the great city of 'New To it.
Dreaming of it all over the fi.e. he was
roused from his thou!.,lit by a knock at
the door, and i s answe - to his -Com
fit," a lad entered carrs,ng a letter. A
tall, handsome boy of seventeen. with
the country bloom yet upon his ruddy
face. and the cot of a country tailor in
his rough clothes, yet, withal. a lad with
large intelligent eyes, a broad, dill brow,
anu a mouth of fall resolution in its firm
etas!) and well cut outlines. Doffing his
cap, he nresentrd his let ter, and the heart
of the old inan throbbed with painltil
force as he glib iced at the signature. It
was a brier lerter, scaicely more than a
note, reading :
DEAR SIMON :—I am dying, and I
may cull you so now. Will you give a
!Aping hand to my son who will bring
this to you after I have left this world,
five children lay beside my husband in
the churehyaid, but me youngest. Cyrus,
my only one, sits beside me now while I
write, We nave scarcely enough of
worldly wealth to save us front a pail
per's grave, and I et nd my son tri you,
and by our old love. Simon, 1 emplore
you to help situ to obtain honest em
ployment. I have been a true wife and
a good innther, as far as I could, Simon,
yet on my deathbed I know that my on
ly love was given io you when they part
ed us, and w 11 be yours if we meet in
another would. MINNIE.
There was a deep silence in the room
as Simon Clayton read the letter, and he
was forced to wait many minutes before
his voice would obey him to ask : 'Your
mother is dead ?'
'She died in the summer, sir.'
•Why have you waited so long to come
to me ?'
•It wok all we had to pay oar debts
and the funeral expenses, and I had to
work to earn my traveling money to come
from Moots.'
'You want employment now ?'
'I hull be very gruteiul sir, if you will
help me to find work.'
qu.day is a holiday. Yon will be my
guest for the present, and I will see what
I can do for von.'
As Simon:Clayton woke. he reached
out his hand and touched a bell upon the
table near him. His housekeeper answer
ed !he summons.
'You see I have company, Mrs. Grey,'
he said, and the housekeeper wondered
at the change in his race and voice, lack
ing all severity yet so sat:. •You will
have a ruum made comfortable for Mr.
Ford.'
The woman courteseyed and was gone,
and Simon questioned his young guest.
His eyes were misty more than once over
the straightforward story of privation
the buy told, his evident devotion to his
mother, who had been widowed when he
was a baby. It was not difficult to see
that the boy, ground down by poverty,
had yet a craving fur education, and had
profited by all his mother could teach
him, HIS very touch upon the books on
the table, his eyes, when they rested on
the well-filled hook case, toll the brain
hunger better than spoken worih. So
be!ore Mrs. Grey called them to dinner,
Simon Clayton was planning the lad's
future as his adopted son.
True Thanksgiving fare the kind
hearted bons-keeper had prepared for the
unexpected guest, ald Simon Clayton's
heart was nearer thankful prayer than it
had been for many long years, as he look
ed at the bright, grateful face opposite to
h.m, and knew Minnie's child looked up
to him for kindness and protection.
Before a week had passed the lad was
entered as a student in one of the city
colleges, living`with his new friend.
'You had best call me Uncle Simon,'
the latter said to him, 'fur your mother
was dearer than a sister to toe, my boy,
and if the people who hear you think
you are my nephew, leave all explanation
to me.'
Bat the world troubled itself very lit
tle about Simon Clayton's new relative,
some of the more kindly hearted hoping
he would have comfort in the lad, others
pitying poor Laura, whose chance of for
giveness seem..d lessoned by the arrival
of this handsome buy.
Four years glided by uneventfully and
happily. The stern old man seemed to
renew his youth in his intercourse with
the son Minnie had sent him,the tallent
ed scholar who was winning college hon
ors, and who kept himself singularly
pure in the whir of the city's vices.
The fatherly love that Simon Clayton
huJ thought honed in the graves of his
own boys at Greenwood, sprang to new
life and vigor, as Cyrus gained a firm
stand in his heart. _.He kept the - boy
from the temptation of vicious company
by giving him free permission to extend
hospitilities of his home to his fellow
students. and the bov's own refilled in
stincts led him to seek only the associa
tion of gentlemen. His love for animals
being discovered, he became the posses
sor of a fine horse. He was encouraged
to join a boat club.and Simon himself ac
onmpanied him to such places of amass
ment as he desired to visit. Yet,sudden
ly lifted from poverty to riches, from a
bitter self-denial to an indulgence of
every wish, from the necessity of bread
winning, to the snply of luxuries, Cyrus
Ford was not spoiled.
Devoted to the Interests of our Town and County
With his heart full of gratitude, he
looked upon all his opportunities for im
provement as preparation for making his
own way in the world. Re was studying
law, and he studiei with the thought
that his daily bread would soon depend
upon his legal knowledge. The idea of
over innJriting any portion of the wealth
that was smoothing his path through
college, never presented itself to his
mind, and his most constant thought of
future prosperity, rested upon his own
exertions, was the hope of one day prov
ing his gratitude by repaying the money
spent so freely for him, though he could
never by a lifetime of devotion return the
fatherly love ar.d kindness lavished on
him.
Ile had heard of Laura Clayton from
one of those dear friends who try to poi.
con all happiness bi auticipatiors of mis
ery.
`You had better keep on the side of
your uncle by never contradicting him,'
this friend had told him, 'he was awfully
fond of his daughter,but he never forgave
his daughter for marrying against his
will.
thought his children were all dead,'
was the reply.
'Not at all. Mrs. Cameron lives in
a little rem, in Pearl Street, and runs
a sewing machine for a living, She has
one daughter, but all the rest of her
children are dead. Hind times, ain't it,
sewing for a living when her father is
rolling in wealth.'
'ln Pearl street !'
`Yes. She makes my shirts, so I keep
her address. She is at No.—Pearl.'
Tue conversation lett a deep impres
sion upon Cyrus Ford. Once in the gen
erous impulse of youth, he had approach
ed the subject with his adopted uncle.bnt
he was so sternly silenced that he never
dared speak the name of the disobedient
daighter. In October, when his twenty•
first birthday came, Simon Clayton led
the young man one morning to his li
brary.
'Cyrus, you are a man to day, and you
have a right to know what my inten
tions are regarding you. In the coarse
of the next year you will be admitted to
the bar, and I shall make you the agent
of my property. Together we will go
over all my investments, and you will be
able to relieve me of some burden of care
as well as to learn where your own prop
erty will one day lie. For to-day I make
my will, and you will be my sole heir.—
Not a word ! Your mother gave you to
! Be me loving son, Cyrus, it is all I
ask of you.'
•Your daughter—'
'Not a word of her. She died ta me
fourteen years ago.'
The tone was so stern,Cvrus could only
t,ow his head in silence, and register a
vow in his heart that his life service
should never waver toward his benefac
tor.
It seems a sudden adoption when told
in the limits of my story. but, in truth,
it was no caprice that influenced Simon
Clayton in his resolve. During four
years of constant intercourse, ha had
studied Cyrus Ford with the close scru
tiny of a stern nature, soured by many
dissappointments, and keenly alive to
every detect in human nature.
He found in his closet study of the
young protege, so unexpectedly placed in
his care, no deceit, no time serving, no
servility. Aq honorable ambition, a re.
spectful gratitude tnat was never fawn
ing nor cringing, and upright integrity,
and a close attention to his studies that
were no child's task for country bred
brains, all awakened the respect of the
old man. His love was more easily won.
Minnie's son, looked into his Lace with
Minnie's great, tender eyes, moved his
heart to affection before the first hour of
Intercourse was over ; and, once given,
the affection never wavered, grown' g
stronger with every day's intercourse, till .
the gnawing pain for his own boys gone
was lost in the son sent to comfort his
old age. ;,
Thanksgiving came again—the fourth
since Cyrus Font came to Clayton—and
with it came a sorrow. For the first
time in his life Simon Clayton felt the
pressure of physical pain. He had been
a model of manly strength during the en
tire sixty years of his life, but -some un
wonted exposure had brought on an at
tack of fever that. setting his fangs deeo
in the strot g frame, brought it vet? near
the grave. Cyrus had been watching all
night when Thanksgiving day dawned.
clear and bright, though fhe first full of
snow lay on the streets. The invalid.
turned restlessly on his pillow, spoke of
some unfinished business his illness had
delayed, and seemed to have his intellect
clearer than they had been before during
his illness.
•I wish you would call upon Hoskins
this morning,Cyrus,l want him to under
stand about the Isaac, of those Graad
.street stores,beture the last of the month.
You have the papers ready ?'
'All ready, sir. But are you well sitiongli
for me to leave you ?'
_ .
'Yes. I shall hcl better when this is
settled.'
It was a relief to be out in the crisp,
cold air, after the long confinemet in a
close room, and Cyrus felt light-hearted
in a certainty that his friend was better.
Surely this attention to business was a
good symptom, and the fever was certain
ly gone. Mrs. Grey was a goo.l nurse,
and there was no especial hurry ; so, af
ter settling the business with Hoskins,
Cyrus came leisurely from the , office of
the latter, up Broadway. It was full of
holiday seekers, many At the stores being
cloaq, and the clerks and saleswomen in
their"best attire going to family gather
ings. Cyrus was thinking of the day four
years ago, when he came friendless and
lonely to the great city, when, just before
him, a girl hurrying past with a large
bundle slipped upon the frozen pavement,
and fell heavily to the ground. In a mo
ment Cyrus was bending over her, help
ing her to rise; but her ancle was sprain
ed, and she would have fallen again but
for his arm.
. .
"I am afraid you cannot walk," he said,
kindly, noting with deep pity her thin
garments, her pinched features, and the
leok of pain upon her face.
"I must try," she answered, stooping
to secure the big bundle. .
"Lean on me," he said, taking the bun-
dle from her. "You cannot," he said, as
the effort to put the injured foot down
brought an ashy paleness to her very lips.
" I will call a cab."
"Nn, no! I have no money !"
Again the deathly pallor gathered on
cheek and lips, till tyrus lifted her gent
ly into the cab that came at his call.
"Where shall I take you ?" he asked.
"To No. —, Pearl street,"
Directing the cabman, Cyrus got into
the cab, with a face almost a 4 pale as the
one beside hint. The number was the
same his frieri4 had mentioned as the ad
dress of Simon Clayton's daughter, and,
looking attentively under the shabby bon•
net, Cyrus saw that the face, pale and
thin, was yet that of a child of not more
than thirt.•en summers. When the cab
stopped before the tall, narrow tenement
house, the Young man lifted his charge
in his strong arms, and, bidding tier hold
fast to the big bundle, carried her to the
room to which she directed him.
- .
It was a poor room, shabby to the ea•
tame of shatibiloss, with no romantic air
of poverty. but the real grinding facts of
exteeme penury staring the beholder in
the face. A woman, pale and emaciated,
was stiching upon a sewing machine, but
came forward trembling when Cyrus en
tervd with the child.
"Dont get frightened,' he said. gently;
"it is only a 6 )rained ankle. I will send
you a doctor, if you will toil me fur
whom he is to inquire."
"Mrs. Cameron, "0 Dollier child are
you much hurt ?"
y foot aches," the child said ; "but
the gentleman has ben so kind ! The
work is here, mother,"
"I will send a doctor," Cyrus said,
hastily putting the child upon the bed
he had better come at once.'
As he spoke, he slipped a note for fifty
dollars in Dollie Camerons hand, and
left the room before she could speak. It
wts too bitter. He c.told not realize it at
once, but the cruel truth pressed harder
as he neared home. This was the child
and grandchild of Simon Clayton, starv
ing in an attic, while be commanded
their ri g htfid inheritance.
Mrs, Grey met him at the door with a
pale frightened face. There had been a
sudden change for the worst since he left
and Simon Clayton was sinking fast.—
Hurrying to the room, Cyrus found the
news only too true. Eagerly the dying
man welcomed him. .He had for got
ten all business cares, but he craved the
love of his adopted son.
"It is Thanksgiving Day, he said, when
they had talked a little while, .•the day
lor the forgiveness of injuries. Cyrus, I
would I knew where Laura is to-day. I
have destroyed all letters from her, lost
all clue to her. She may be poor, Cyrus.
She may long for her father's forgiveness.
My poor Laura! I had never crossAl her
Cyrus, and she uid not think I would be
unforgiving. I could die easier :f I could
tell her that I forgive her."
Cyrus did not speak. Literally be
could not, All that those few gasping
words implied pressed upon his brain
with relentless clearness. Laura
at home, Laura forgiven, meant the loss
of all the fair inhertance now his own.
Do not judge him to harshly, that a
tierce temptation cluchec: heart and brain
There was no active crime to be commit
ted. Only a few hours silence and the
vast wealth winch ht had virtually con
trolled for a few short weeks would be all
his c wn. He could provide handsomely
for the widow and her child when be
was the heir; and he was surely better
fitted to manage a great estate than a
weak woman.
Simon Clayton did not notice the si
lence that fell upon the room while Cyrus
wrtisiled with the bitter temptation iii
his heart. He was vary weak, and tim •
was short for prayer and preparation for
ternity, so the silence suited him well.—
But when the very round of his breath
ing was audible in the stillness, he sighed
as if from a breaking Heart, "My ?tor
Laura!"
Like clouds dispersed by sunlight, the
shadows of evil sped from Cyrus Ford's
heart.
"Uncle Simon," he said, "I can bring
Laura to you, if you wi.h."
The dying mall expressed no supprise.
The end was too near for that. It seemed
nothing strange to him that his strong
dying wish should be answered.
"You can find her! Bring her quick
ly, Cyrus, or you will be too late. Bat
before you go, give me my desk, and
send Mrs. Grey to me."
"Shall I open your desk ?"
"Yas, I only Want my will. She is my
child, Cyrus," he said, pleadingly.
"And if this is destroyed she will have
her rightful inheritance," said Cyrus.—
"Shall I lay it here on the live, -coals?"
"Yes, God will give me an hour or two
more of life. Burn it. Cyrus, and at
once for Mr. Pearson."
So, while the flames curled over the
paper that would nave made tim master
of nearly a million dollars, Cyrus Ford
started to bring 'Aura Cameron to her
father, and sent his lawyer to the dying
man. But few words sufficed to explain
his errand. Dollie was carefully curried
to the easy carriage in waiting, and after
a long drive the stately hoase was reached
when twilight was setting over the great
city
It was thoroughly in keeping with the
delicate instincts of Cyrus Fords chard--
ter that he sent Laura alone to her
father, while lie carried Dollie into the
parlor, and made her comfortable upon
a sofa The grave pale child looked
earnestly in his face.
Do you live here with my grandfather
, he asked ?"
“I have livt.ll here for four years. I ate
my first meal here on Thanksgiving Day
tour years ago:'
"Thanksgiving day! We meant to
make a little holiday, too ; but I was not
paid for the work I took' home, and I
hurt my foot. I was not in itt very thank.
ful frame of mind before r met you, and
you were so kind and so generous!"
"I hope this will be one of many thank.
fall days for you," he answered. "Your
mother will not leave home again I trust."
There was still a lone talk before they
were summoned to the eiok room. here
the reconciliation has been perfect, and
Doltie was placed in an arm chair where
FIFTY CTS. EXTRA IF NOT IN ADVANCE
her grandfather could look upon her face,
"You will trust everything to Cyrus,
Laura," her father said. "He knows how
all my property is invested. Cyrus, you
will be faithful to my child ?"
'God deal with me as lam faithful to
your trust.' was the solemn reply.
Before midnight, surrounded by those
be loved, Simon Clayton died. Not un
til three days later, when the funeral was
over, did Cyrus know that Mr. Peat son
had made a new will, while he was seek
ing Laura Cameron. By this will he be
came h'ir to half of Simon Clayton's
estate, the other half and all personal
property becoming Laura's.
My story may not end here. Fiydyears
later, on Thank:giving day, there was a
wedding in the houre where Simon Clay
ton had spent so many lonely years, and
the bridegroom was the rising lawyer,
Cyrus Ford, who wedded the grandchild
of his benefactor, sweet Mollie Cameron.
MISCELLANEOUS READING
THERE IS NO DEATH.
BY LORD BIMWER LYTTON.
There Is no death I The stars go down
To rise-upon some fairer shore;
And bright in heaven's jeweled crown
They shine forevermore.
There Is no death i The dust we tread
Shall change beneath the Summer showers
To golden grain or mellow fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.
The granite rocks disorganize
To teed the hungry moss they bear,
The forest trees drink daily life
From out the yi. wless
There is no death ! The leaves may fall,
The flowers may fade and pass away :
They only wait through wintry hours
The coming of the May.
There Is no death I An angel form
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread ;
He bears our best loved thingv away,
And then we call them "dead."
He leaves our heart all desolate.
He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers ;
Transplanted into bliss, they now
Adorn immortal bowers.
The bird like voice, with Joyous tones,
Made glad with scenes of sin and strife,
Sings now an everlasting song
Amid the tree of life.
Anti where he sees a smile too bright,
Or heart too pure for taint and vice,
He bears it to that world of light,
To dwell In Paradise.
Born unto that uneying lite,
They leave us but to come again ;
With Joy we welcome them—the same,
Except in sin and plin.
And ever near us, though unseen,
The dear, immortal spirits tread;
For all the boundless universe
Is life—there is no dead,
SHOWS OF GRIEF.
Not very many years ago it was con
sidered an essential part of the etiquette
of fashionable funerals to appear to weep.
Each mourner was expected to cary in
the hand a white pocket handerchief, and
to apply it to the eyes more or less fre
quently—the interval between the dabs
being regulated by the degree of relation
ship which bad existed between the oo•
consolable and the deceased. This bit of
hypocrisy has happily been dispensed
with, for some time past, by the mourn
ing fashionista. It is no longer deemed
indispensable to indicate to the word
that what Hamlet calls "the fruitful riv
er of the eye" is in a state of freshet. bt
hoisti•.g the white ffig of affliction at a
burial. This change id the fashion is ju
dicious, fur tears are not necessarily the
sigh of sorrow. In fact, weeping regret
is usually superficial ; so that to counter
feit tears is simply to simulate she low
grief. Besides, there are hundreds of
persons who, like Job Trotter in the
"Pickwick Papers." can "lay on the wat
er" at will. Actors shed on the stage
mechanically. Nothing can be m ire fal•
lacious than the outward symbols of sor
row. Neither inky suits, nor cionds of
crape, nor an overflow of salt water, nor
the ilek-cted 'haviour of the visage, are to
be trusted as signs of inconsolability, es
pecially if our departed brother or sister
has been thoughtful enough to leave a
handsome legacy to the sable-clad and
lachrymose mourner. In such a case, a
Niobe might, withont injustice, be sus
peeled of dissimulation. It is common
to weep without much suffering, and
equally common to suffer keenly without
shedding tears.
There are human crocodiles who could
pour forth eye-water enough to swim in,
without experiencing a single pang.
DISCOURAGED
It is so easy to say "Never give up the
ship." It is so easy to hold your head up
and step firmly, to laugh cheerily, and
have a pleasant word for everybody,when
safely hedged in from sorrow and pover
ty by the love of friends and a bottom
less purse. When sickness passes by to
knock at some other door when home is
the one sweet, safe corner in all the
world, when th-re are those who would
suffer that you might go free—ah ! then
it is easy to feel as if nothing could ever
matte you quite discouraged.
This is a beautiful world, and there
are lots of good things in it. Yes, marl
a son and daughter, a few wives and
mothers, and about t hel same proportion
of husbands and fathers, do live more in
the shine than in the shadow of life.—
But there are so many. so many more,
who have to buckle on their armor, anti
spend their beat heart's blood in the dai
ly life. •
Oh! ye, whose paths are in the pleas
ant places! whose flail was never tried
by heaven's seeming disregard of your
prayers and tears! who never knew the
lack of tender home love and protection,
exult in your happiness, arid thank
Providence. But while, you drink from
vJur cup of life such. honey sweet
i!ranehtA, give a thought now and then
to those whose daily potions 'savor , .so
strongly f wo:mwood, and Pmetaber
that a kindly word and a helping hand,
which cost so little. may make lighter the
burdens of some cue now almost dis
couraged. .
THE MONTROSE DEMOCRAT
Contains all the Local and CI enors Ifteits,Poetryilts
ries, anecdotes, Hlacellaneon■ lladlng,Correspocd•
once, and a tellable class of advertisements.
One square.(fi of an Inth roce.)3 wesks.or lose fill
month. $1.55 months. $2.80; 6 months. SACO; I
yeAl'r ater l.l6.so. A liberal dhicount on advertisements on. it'
length. Easiness Locals. i 0 eta. • line for first
Ir.sertion, and 5 cta. a line each subsequent 1111CItinn,.
Marriages and deaths, tree; obltuatles,lo eta. a line.
NUMBER 47.
Two of Itothsehild's maxims . were
never to buy anything that WatB not In.
trinvically worth the money paid for 'it,
and to never have important transactions
with an unlucky man.
If you would win success be punctual,
courteous, honest, economical, agreeable
in your personal habits, and regardful of
your health.
Be exceedingly carer(/' in the forma
tion of business partnerships.
Give close personal supervision to ev
ery department of your business: "the
master's eyes are von h both his hands."
In serecting employees be governed by
their fitness.
To make good bargains, you must be
well posted in regard to the market value
ache articles you wish to buy or sell and
their qualities and condition.
Pay your bills prumptly and collect the
bills due you closely.
Avoid going security and making
email mans.
Don't neglect to insure your real and
personal property.
In making an lnvestment take care
thut your principal is perfectly secure.
Keep a sharp lookout fur swindling-de
rketi. Their name is legion. . •
Isl , ihr lend money to strang-rs.
Beware of outside spemilat ions. Your
beet chance of making money is always
connected with the business you best un
derstand.
Never sign a paper until you have read
t and fully understand it
Use your credit sparingly. It may serve
a useful temporary purpose,. but pay day
is sure to nom., and you should endeavor
to be always prepared for it.
Always live within your income.
In selecting a business, be governed to
some extent by your natural twiteei and
abilities; but do not neglect any oppor
tunity that affords fair advantages, nuless
it mikes requirements that are postively
repulsive.
In seeking a situation, remember that
the right kind of men are always in de
mand, and that industry' and capacity
rarely go empty minded.
Neither overrate nor underrate yourca
pacity, but strive to estimate your powers
at their just values
Never fail to take a receipt for money
paid, and keep copies of your letters.
Do your business promptly, and bora
not a business men with long visits.
Caution is the father of security.
He who pays beforehand is served be
hindhand.
No mu° can be successful who neglects
his business.
Do not waste time in useless regreta
over losses.
An nour of triumph comes at last to
those who wait and watch.
If you past your servants upon your
affairs, they will uue day read you
'- It has been said in another form of ex
presztion that the slightest excess of ex
penses overoncome is poverty, and the
hg tea exri•se of income over expenses
is wealth. The ab !icy of practical farm
ers to master this great problem of life Is
not s•t moon dependent upon what they
know of their butiness as on their facul
ty to apply what they know. Success In
ousiness is doe to administration. Ca
it'acity in administration is due to that
faculty, power, oi quality called common
senso, which everybody speaks well of
and unbolt understands exactly We in
fer its presence or its absence from the •
results of a. man's life. We venture lap
in) a definition of the phrase we are using
not so much for the purpose of makiag - '
its meaning clear as for' the greater pur•
pose of giving it a loftier place in your
thoughts. Common. sense is a degree, a
high degree—it. fine. the I ighest depict
of human wisdom applied to practical
things. L is not learning ; it is not
knowledge ; it is rather the faculty . of
applying what we may know to what we
do. Other things being equal, the pm
ticui fume: who knows the most wilt do
the best; but other hinge nit being
equal. a man why excels in wisdom In
administration may surpass a man of
greater learning, nr even grester knowl
edge of things, But do not allow this
suggestion to lead you to place a low esti
mate upon learning, whether general or
professional; culture of every sort gives
us capacity to appreciate wisdom, and op•
purtuuity also for its exercise.
You have trouble your ferlings are
injured, your husband is unkind, your
wife frets, your home is not pleasantyour
friends do not treat you fairly,and things
in general move unpleasantly. Well,what
of it? Keep It to yourself. A smoul
dernig fire can be 'found and extinguish
ed ; but, when this coals are mitered who
can pink them up? 'flurry your sor
row. The place for sad an disgusting
things is under the ground. A eat 'fin
ger is not benefited ,by pulling off the
plaster, and exposing it under somebody's
eyes; tie-lt up ti-d let it alone; it will
get well of itself sooner than you can
cure it. Charity, covereth a multitude of
sins. Things thus covered are often cur
ed without a scar; but, once published
and confided to meddling friends, there
is no end to the trouble they,may cause.
Keep it to yourself. Troubles are tran
sient, and, when a sorrow is' healed and
past, what a comtort it is to say, "No one
ever knew it until it was nil over."
Laws, like sausages, would fail to in
spire respect if all people knew how they
were made.
'Tis God-like magnanimity t 6 keep,
when most provoked, oar reason 'calm
and clear. •
Good company and good consecration
are the very Sinews of virtue. •
So long as pie are iunoevnt fear, noth•
ing. No one can harm you.
Each word of kindiiess. come when It
may, is welcome to the pour.
L Przustrze Era?' Ocolizipat Atomism°
Adverthingßates:
BUSINESS ADVICE.
COMMON SENSE.
KEEP IT TO YOURSELF.