AWLEY & CRUSER, EditorS and Proprietors.
[AMIE 32.
ntrost :Itnincrat
Evfl WZDVCIIDAT MOUNIIIO
Ste,,j?tchanna County, Pa
Loralnnd Genera I News.Poetry,Sto-
Readita.Correapood
, .al•lt• • la, of advertlat•menta.
tdvertising Rates
of stn turn ennce.l3 weeke, or ices $1
tt- t . t month , $9.50; 0 Mont be. $41110; 1
I ttl4rount on tolvertteemente 01 a
.c' Itt)-1 1,..ea1e.111 rte. a line for first
n hoe each euhttequent tneertion.—
~....trat he. obitonricet 10 ctn. a line.
sttus
A SPECIALTY !
Q 14• A 1100.
ES=
MIMI
Business Cards
(;REP,'N d VACKEY.
•and N Mock 4 t. have thia day en.
Mcolcal co.Purtocntop. lor the practice
111.11 Corp ry. nod arc pri pared to attend
Cal It. ni lb, Pile of their protection at
•da)
and itof
1 , 1 r Cpri' 11. 1 , 75. a al.
if D. /1.4 Lb fIN. 1)..
/CI AN, mar. 'mated himself al
. he, he w:11 nltt•nd promptly to all pro
rst;u.timt to ale eare.
bin 141‘ eq.,,nd door. frost. Boards at
OE=
At torno nt Lau. Montrose, Penn . a.
t t..trt, Promptly Attended to.
‘';t nte, ',teen to orphan.' Court Practice.
t. Pon. ti J. Turret]. on Public Avenue. oppo
it, the Tarheit Bout, la7a.
R .4. TURRELL
.1t
No 170 Ilroadwa), New York City.
.n I k•rid. of Attorney Bueinest, and con
the Court, of both the State and the
W. 5...111T11,
•orn- at hle dwelling, unit door north of Dr
0; I Foundry etreet, where he would be
o - aut of Dental Mork. Qc
t OaZ can please all, both In ynallty of
'D 1,1 ,- c Mike bourn from 9a.m. to 4 r R.
1, 1,14-0
rALLEY HOUSE.
• b, Sn ual ed near the Erie Raihalo De
31.1 co rn mOctiolle hotline, htib undergone
L r. log r Nowt) remelted room, and sleep•
onl,cl.lendltliablue.madallthinge , enmprie-
HENRY ACKERT,
-Ir. Proprietor.
1 lit Ph.OPLE'S MARKET.
1 . 111...cr ltsu,. Proptictor.
Meatr, Dame. Pork, Bolooa San
-6v beat quality, constantly on band. at
J., 14. IS7:1-1e
BILLINGS STROUD.
ND LIFE. INl3E7rlAtilik AUSNT Ale
• 4ttendedtopromptly,on fair terms. Oftic.
r cast of the hook or Wm. H. Cooper et C.
etme,Moutrose, Tu. (Aug 1.1869.
72.1 littLiNeb ,TROVD.
CHAJZLEY MORRIS
TI BAMIER. has moved hie shop to the
oranmed by E. McKenzie Co.. where be Is
10 do all kinds of work in his Ilne,sucb es ma
puffs. etc. All work done on short
lob. Please call and see me.
LITTLE.S tk BLAKESLEE
.T LAW, have removed to their Neu
;H.Fslte thr Tarbell Boor,
It. B. 1.11 - rtz,
liEO. P. LITTLE,
H. L. BL.nszeLze.
IMEMENZEI
W. B. DEANS,
in Book, 1-tationery. Wall Paper, New, pa
.Net t'utitry i Mere... Tic Vten S. Yankee
. . Next dour to the Pohl Office, iklontr.se,
R. H.
te-s.
EX( 713 E. 110 TEL.
Ivlr.nee to inform thet:llolc that
the Exchange hotel in Montropr, be
pared to mru modate the traveling pnbl:e
~a: ':,. ~:.
11. Bilt
ind Fancy Dry Goodo.Crockery,Liard•
.t.
% r tovt•e, Druge. 01le, and Paiute, Hoot.
• and Caps• Furs, Buffalo Rohee Gro
r•,‘,.. LI, Sr
MIME
F. D. L.4_1(11, N.
I]L) ni ItGEON tender" Isir prorcrelon
zez, t3reat Bend and vicin.ty
Great Bend Village.
f . .. 11. ••
IMPBMWM
r i'LlClnts). Beta, a :ar Fool of
and a n .rul m a.l Chronic
BEIM
Dl:. S. 11*. LAITON,
,13.G80N, tender. hie yerriCel , to
t 4.n -at Bend and vicinity. Officeat alt•
•.ppo.t.tte Burnam Bonne, Gl't Bend village
L 111/S KNOLL,
AvIN., AND HAIR DRESSING.
ur new .Posloffice building, where he will
:rafly to attend all who may want anything
Montrose Pa. (Jct. 13 1b69.
11.11fLE.. , X. r,TODDARD,
nu", ....a shown, Bata and Cape, Leatberand
~ Mau, StpGet, let door below Boyd Store.
to , Jr 4re r, aud repairing done neatly.
•1- J. 3.1 pc()
101 l L. XICHARDSON,
AN & .:TRGEON. sander. hi. .profeasiona
e6e rltizeae Of Montrone and vicinity.—
L:.“.elder .ma the eorneresatolSayrt. &
oundrs (Aug. I. 1869.
ct -
Law and SolieltOr, in Bankruptcy. Often
•Irvet . over City National Bank, Bing
=•-
1 WS. 80;iYILL,
• Jracuisl)rvarr.
ABEL TLIIRELL.
Mvdicioe, Chemicals, Patate;.o.ile
fl' :?,...”. ,pICVS. Pettey Goode, ,
Jewelry, Per
& . \ Brick Block. Montnou, PA. Eetablithed
Past; 1,1615.
- \ ,
L FITCH, •
r.) AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW. Mont-
Ott,: w••rt of the Court iiotlee.
• ..1:trootr), t, 187:..-Iyl
A. 0. WARREN,
. LAW. Bounty, Bact Pay. PeTtliol2
k , rl Claims attended to. °Mee Sri,
Bord'e Store. blontroiLe.P.. [An. I.•Gg
IV. A CUOSSMON,
n' Lat. 0111ce at the Court House, in tile
•Inuer. Umw W, A. CII.OesSION.
t• .
J c. WHEATON,
ENGINCEII AND Likx.D ticnsa - ron,
P. U. astdreme., Franklin Forks.
Susquehanna Co.. Pa
W. W. SMITE,
S.ND cilAllt 11AlsilIPA1TUF.E1113,—rool
hiontruee, Pa. 'Jacky. 1. 1869.
Al. C. SUTTON,
NEYlt.utid 12ESUBA5CL Una',
ti Friendimille. Pa.
D. W. SEARLE,
El AT Lew, °lnce over the IStoro of Id
r.:L Li Brick Block.ktontrose Pa. lan'
I B. d: A. IL McCOLLeM )
Office over the Bank, Montrove
utrute, ?day 10, 11371.
4.31.1 EL Y,
A ddrees,Brooklyn, Pa
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,
County Business Directory
Two lines In this Directory, one year. $1.50; each ad
ditional line, 60 cents.
MONTROSE
WM. lIAUGRWOUT, Slater. Wholesale and ftetal
dealer in all kinds of slate coding, elate paint, etc.
Roofs repaired with elate paint to order. Also, nlatt
paint fur sale by the gallon or barrel. Montrose. Pa.
BILLINGS STROUD, Genera Fire and Life . f nen'
canoe Agents; also, sell IrAllretto and AccidentTickrt
to New York and Philadelphia. Office out:clout-east
o f the Bank.
BOYD At CORWIN, Dealers In Stoves, Ilardwar.
and Manpfacturers of Tin and Sheetirou ware.corno
of Main and Tarnpikestreet.
A. N. BULLARD Dealer in procerles, Provisions
Books, Statlone and Yankee Notions, at head of
Public Avenue.•
WM. El. COOPER S.. CO.. Bankers, sell Foreign Pas.
nage Tlcktin andDrafte on England, Irelandand Scot,
lend.'•
WM. L. COX, Harness maker and dealer in all article
nodally kept by the trade, oppurite the Bank. •
JAMES E. CARMALT, Attorney at Law. Other one
door below Tarbell Ileum Public Avenue. •
NEW Sili,FOnn.
SAVINGS BANK, NEW MI LFORD.—E la per cent. in
terest on all Deposits. Does a general Banking Ittis
nests. -1111-tf S. B. CHASE d CO.
H.GARRET ,It, SON. Dealers In Flour. Feed. Mea
Salt. Lime. Cement, Groceries and Rrov'sic to
Main Street, opposite the Depot.
N F. EMBER, Carriage Maker and Undertaker on
Main Street, two doors below Hawley's Store.
GREAT BEND.
li. I'. DORAN, Merchant Tailor and dealer in Rend)
Made Clothing, Dry Goode..Groeeriee and ProvietUllF
Main Street.•
Banking, &c
BANKING HOUSE
fl. COOPER & CO.,
MON'IvELPSE., PA
GENERAL BANKING BUSINESS DONE
COLLECTIOXS MADE ON ALL
POItiTS AND PROMPTLY AccouN
TED FOR AS HERETOFORE
DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN EXCHANGE FOR
ta AL. i_. 3E: .
I'MTED STATES & OTHER BONDs
.BU[UIIT AND SOLD.
COUPONS AND CITY AND COUNTY
BANK CHECKS CASHED AS USUAL.
(WEAN STEAMER PAsSAGE TICK
ETS TO AND FllOll EUROPE.
INTEREST ALLOWED ON SPECIAL
•TIM 3i7aL=.4cos9i - acrs.
AS PER AGREENIENT WHEN TIIE
DEPoSIT IS MADE.
In the future, as in the past, we shall endenv
or to transact all money business to the satis
faction of our patrons and correspondents .
W. H. COOPER & CO.,
Montrose, March 10. '75.--tf. Bunk ens.
Authorized Capital,
Present Capital,
FIRST NATIONAL BAlli,
NTROSE, PA.
WILLIAM J. TURRELL, Pre..id-nt.
P. I). SEARLE. f "ice President
L LEM - IEIAL - caNhier
Dirrdonc
VOL J. TURRELL, D. D. SEARLE, A
J. GERRITSON. M. S. DESSAUER
ABEL TURBELL. G. V. BENTLEY
G. B. ELDRED, Montrose. Pa
E. A. CLARK, Binghamton, N. Y
E. A. PRATT, N, x Mi}fold, Pa
XL B. WRIGHT, Susqueliat,na Dept. l'a
L. S. LENHIPL ..Grust Bend. Pit
GjV
uttAr A u
COLLECTIONS MADE ON ALL POINTS-
SPECIAL DEPOSIT'S SOLICITED
Montrose, March 3, 1875.—t f
SCRWTON SUMS BANK,
120 Wyoming Avenue,
RECEIVES - MONEY ON DEPOSIT
FROM COMPANIES AND INDIVID
UALS, AND RETURNS THE SAME
ON DEMAND WITHOUT PREVI
OUS NOTICE, ALLOWING INTER
EST AT SIX PER CENT. PER AN
NUM, PAYABLE HALF YEARLY,
ON THE FIRST DAYS OF JAN U
ARY AND JULY. A SAFE AND RE
LIABLE PLACE OF DEPOSIT FOR
LABORING MEN, MINERS, ME
CHANICS, AND MACHINISTS, AND
FOR. WOMEN AND CHILDREN AS
WELL. MONEY DEPOSITED ON
OR BEFORE THE TENTH WILL
DRAW INTEREST FROM THE
FIRST DAY OF THE MONTH. THIS
IS IN ALL RESPECTS A HOME IN
STITUTION, AND ONE WHICH IS
NOW RECEIVING THE SAVED
EARNINGS OF THOUSANDS UPON
THOUSANDS OF SCRANTON MIN.
ERS AND MECHANICS.
DIRECTORS ; - JAMES I3LAIR,
SANFORD GRANT, GEORGE FISH
ER, JAS. S. SLOCUM, J. IL SUTPHIN,
C. P. MATTHEWS, DANIEL HOW-
ELL, A. E. T. F. HUNT
JAMES BLAIR, PRESIDENT ;
.0. C.
MOORE, CASHIER.
OPEN DAILY FROM NINE A. M.
UNTIL FOUR P. M, AND 'ON WED.
NESDAY AND SATURDAY EVE.
NINGS UNTIL EIGHT O'CLOCB.
Feb. 12. 1874.
The Newest Sensation
GROVES & YOUNGS'
il20NINE1.01331:11,
A RUSK OF CUSTOMERS. Al) Work WARRANT.
.1.1. ED TO OWE SATISFACTION IN EVENT ILES
FEC'T. Examine our prices and givens s
JOIN GUOVER.
• YIENJIZY YOUNG.
Montrose. February 3.1.45.41
Binghamton Blarblo Works !
All kinds of Monuments. Meaileionsi, and Marble
Mashes, made to order. Also, Scotch Granites on
band. - - , f. PICKEILING .k CO..
J. PiCKZEr.LNU /26 Coort Stied.
a. la. atznartkan,
u. P. =oars. - • Binghamton, N.
od. 28, 1874.. - •
JX4. _
The Orator spoke,and the crowd was hush . d.
Men held their breath as the quick words
rusted,
Stern eyes grew tearrul,coM hearts grew hot;
Though the hours sped by they heeded them
not;
And they swore not their fault if they lie'd
not to see
The tyntnt dead and their country free
The Orator ceases—the curtain falls,
The echoes die through the tenantless walls-
They fought in vain, for the orator's word
Stay'd not the sweep of the tsraiat's sword,
And the riveted chain clank'd on as before,
And the orator's words are remembered no
Scanty his guerdoa, scanty his fame
He lives in story, only a name.
The Poet sang, and the earth grew still,
And he moulded men's hearts at his own
sweet will ;
And they ask'd his name that it might he en-
roll'd
With the names of earth's greatest in letters
of gold—
And his pale cheek thish'd and his heart beat
high,
And he said—" Nor my name nor my song
shall die"
lle paus'd, and earth's voices, silent so long,
Orew seventold louder, and drown'd his song
As the tide of time thro' the (Tulin
The rust ate in thro' the letters of gold ;
And newer songs seem'd sweeter to men,
And tht Poet's songs are not heard again,
Save by a few, with less heart than head,
Who grope for his thoughts in a tongue that
is dead,
Scanty his guerdor, scanty his fame,
lie left in story scarce aught but a name
The Thinker sat pale in his lonely cell,
And mus'd on the Thought he had shap'd so
well ;
And his keen eye look'd through the coming
And he saw thro' the haze of his happy tears
His shapely thought limo the world expand
Till its impress was stamp'd on the sea and
the land ;
And be thought to himself, 'mid his vision of
Surely the world will remember my name
And the Thinker died. and his Thought went
To the east and the west, to the south and
the north ;
But talent such changes on renius rang
That the world forgot from whose brain it
sprang ;-
Aud men deem'd that the fruit ut the thought
of the sage
Was the slOw grown produce of many an
$500,000 00
100,000 00
Scanty his guertlon, scanty his tame
He left in story nottven 11 name
Perhaps the most cruel thing that can
be dour on earth is to:destroy a woman's
reputation. It is bad enough if she is
guilty ; but if she is innocent, how much
more terrible.
Poor Agnes Chill ! She knew what
trotilile is. But thank heaven ! she knew
what it-is to be triumphantly vindicated.
Agnes was cot beautiful, but she was
fascinating—one of those glowing erre,—
ent, craw as toe tiame craws the
moth. Her smile was sunshine, her voice
was a bird's voice, her every motion was
grace. Coquettish she was not; yet there
were, perhaps,a score of men who thought.
or hoped, that ehe was in love with them.
I think Albert Vassar knew from the
first that there was no charm for him ;
yet lie hovered about li r, put on airs of
owner.nip, tried to keep others away.and
watched her with jealous, evil eyes.
Agnes stared, was annoyed, but pitied
him, and hardly• knew how to get rid of
him. She was too good natured to show
him the door, to tell him to be gone, but
fancied she could mortify him with smiles.
Of course, it was ono of the worst mis—
takes she could make.
Albert Vassar was handsome, but had
a itialtv beauty, small, slight, shining in
his black hair and eyes, shining with a
marble whiteness even in his regular lit—
tle hateful nose, forehead. and mouth.—
His dress was always immaculate ; he
had nothing else to think of, and money
enough ; and, though neither witty nor
well read, he managed to keep-up with
the questions of the day, and have
a sharp word to say about everything. '
"What do you let him come here for,
Agnes?" I asked her one evening, when
the creature had been rendering himself
more than usually odious.
"Oh. he doesn'i mean to be disagreea—
ble, I don't like to be hard on him. Be -
sides, how can Ltoll him to stay away ?"
she said.
"Yon can say to him plainly, wile., he
snaps out any of his impudence, that you
cannot allow your friends to be insulted,
.or yourself to he madeuncomfortable," I
said.
The girl's sweet face wore a troubled
look.
"What can I do ?" she asked. "It is
bard to be harsh to one who likes me.—
Besides, I know that he is irritable and
unpopular, and since others will have no
patience with him, that seems the very
reason why I should. I try to soothe and
coax him; and, sometitnes,you've no idea
how pleasant be,is."
"Then you mean to let him drive all
your other friends away ?" I asked,crossly.
"Certainly not. But there is no ueces•
airy for that, He isn't here all of the
time."-
"But he is half the time," I said. "And
may I ask .if,you intend to marry him ?"
Agneslooked at me in astonishment,
.and presently. vvitb indignation. "I con
sider that an insulting question, Mr, Ar
nold," she said,-coldly:
"lie means to marrryon," I said.
"You mistake I" she exclaimed, blush—
ing crimson. "Re zierer says anything
of the - kind. And if he bad such a
thought, the very friendlessness and p a ,
times with which I treat him would show
him how vain it is."
.0/1141111.1111AM; .11: 1 -- r
More day to see a sailor that was coming
MONTROSE. SUSQ'A COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 12, 1785.
(elect Nactr.g.
FAME
►etcctcd ,f tory.
A JUDGMENT.
BY THEODORE ARNOLD
"Stand by the Bight thuigh the Heavens fall:"
Agr2
"Opinions differ," I remarked, leaving
my place at her side.
There was quite a little company or us,
Agnes lived iu a house where there were
three other pretty girls, and where the
people liked gayety ; and every evening
ti.at they did not go cult the pallor was
full.
Frank Jameson and Albert Vassir,
both on the watch, iv.arted at Wm saute
moment I left my seat, to take possess:im
of it. Agnes saw them, and, with an if—
f•cttoa of unconsciousness, got up, Ind
walked in the direction of Frank.
"1 was coming for you to play elms,"
he said, eagerly.
Sh e smiled and nodded, and the two
went toward the corner where the chess—
talde stood. I glanced at Vassar. Ile
was looking like a thunder-cloud. mak•
ing a display of rage that made me watt
to kick him. One moment he hesitated,
then setting his head in the air, for dl
the world like an angry snake eroetlig
his crest, started after the two. They
placed the table and chairs without ap—
pearing to notice him ; and he drew up a
cliuir beside that of Agnes and seated
himself in it with the air of one wI,o is
mounting guard over his property.
"Change seats with me, Miss CHI,"
said Frank. "My chair is the better the
and you will have the light over your
sholder."
She rose immediately and exchangtd
with him, Jameson's chair being in a m•
creel where the other could not intrutd
himself. Vassar ground hie teeth, stett—
ed up, and seemed to be on the point of
an explosion.
"You are standing in my light," said
Jamesm), tranquilly.
For a moment I thought that Vassar',
would strike him. His face was perfect-
Iv wldite, his hands were clenched, he was
trembling )iolently. But he was a cow
ai;ily dog, and he saw that all ;a the
room were looking at him in disgust—all
except the two chess-players, who, with
out appearing to be aware of his presence
went quietly on wito Lhe game.
The tool stood one moment iliere..like
a game-cock. all ready for a tight. th
turned and rushed out of doors. It wst;
too ridiculous. Every one laughed. '-
That fellow is lit for only a lunati.'
asylum, - Frank Jamesan said to ~,'
contemptuously, as I took a seat by le
two in the corner. "Or, if he is to live
among sane pe,ppir, he ought to have'a
caning every morning, that would keep
him iu order till the next,'
But Agnes, I saw was generously ready
to take up for the weaker side. seeing
..Very one else despise and laugh at him i
had made her pitiful.
`•I think von are all hard,•' she said
nervously. "Ile has a temper, but that
, s less a fault than a misfortune. It wou.d
have been more polite and considerate if
people had taken no notie•."
"Well, he has the good se:lse to go out I
to cool himself off," said 1.
In fact, Vassar was at that mom e nt
walking up and down the pavement in
.runt of the house, hatless end frantic.—
Looking out, i could see him press his
hand to his head and swing his arms
stout. He was there when we weft out
to go hour} , . hour alter.
••lie means to go in and give her a
blessing," f said to Jameson as we walked
away bigether.
Inc stopped and looked back.
-Do you suppose be does ? She would
he a fool if she would listen to a word
from him. He is going. I declare. But,
there. his hat is in the hall. Let's wait
till he c..mes out."
We stood ten minutes, but Vassar did
not appt•ur.
"That's Agnes right out," I saidlpos
ing my patience. "She's trying to soothe
him. Jameson), my private opinion it,
that those women who are not knaves are
fools."
Jameson stood silent and motionless
(or another ten minutes ; then, Vassar
still not tnaking his appearance, he turn
ed impatiently to go.
"I believe you,' he replied, rather tar
dily, to my last remark.
The next day, Bob Geyser came into
my office (1 am a lawyer, you know,) and
leaning over my chair. whispered : "Vas.
g:ir went back last night. and staved an
hour with Agnes (Thin."
Bob had been of our party.
I growled out something not very com
plimentary to either of the two. I was
inal with Agnes;for kindness may be car
ried ton far, and I don't believe that a
young v-man is called on to evangelize a
young man unless she is going to marry
hint.
Isn't it queer, though ?" asked Bob,
"No." I answered.
Bob whistled and withdrew.
Later in the day I met Vassar, who
hod a satisfied smile on his face, which
wished I could pull out by the roots. lie
give me a short nod and a grin, and
turned his face away. His air was that
of one who has something pleasant on
his mind which he won't tell,
"She is a fool," I thought wrathfully,
and went home to get ready for the tip
s-re..
Scarcely had I taken my seat in the
front row of tue first balcony, before 1
saw Agnes and Vassar come in below,nnd
seat themselves in the parquet.
I watched the two, and saw clearly
what Agnes was doing. She was trying
to make it appear as though she were
pleased with his company—was treating
him kindly. He was making a parade
of fondness and affection. Before the
evening was over, she got mud with him,
and made him behave himself. She took
her fan from him and used it herself, she
made him sit upright, and not 101 l on the
arm of her seat, or half on her shoulder ,
and she put a stop on the whispering.
I glanced back, and saw Jameson smil
inggrimly.
•I don't believe she will ever go into
public with him again," he said. See how
pale all her face is but that red spot in
each cheek. She is about as much asham
ed of that chap•as 13he ran be."
I didn't see either Agnes or Vassar for
a week after that, and then I saw him at
her lodgings. She was looking rather
pale and uneasy, and be was as black and
bitter as a man can be. There seemed to
be a little sensation through the com
pany and 1 fanoled that they were left
rather to themselves, but at the same
time watched.
, Bob Gaper got me in a corner after
awhile, under the pretext of showing ins
a pliotograpb,and whispered, "The dev—
il's to pay about \Tamar and Agnes.—
Thete'a an anisnyinons letter been written
"U b, ohg, you care ess GUall
to the mistress of the school. (Agnes
was a daily governess,) "telling her that
Agnes isn't as prudent as she ought to be
' and that she is so much in the power of
Vassar that she is afraid of offending
him. It adds that if she has any friends
they should make Vassar marry her. The
lietter was sent open, with a request to
the postmaster to read it. Of course it
'all leaked out.
What was the use of raving ? But I
did. Agnes, it seemed, didn't know; and
vexed as we could be with her lone of us
could tell ber.
Time passed, and letter after letter, of
the same import was written, sometimes
1 .0 one, sometimes to another. The sto—
r: was thoroughly circulated, and there
w.re found plenty to believe it. And
soli, the girl defended him, and took his
part. and still he treated her with that
air 01 capricious, sulky fondness and au
thority. For two months or more, she
did not 'rnow what was the matter, why
her frients went by on the other side,why
the schod.mistresses grew cold, why the
other teaches always had to go in anoth
er direction, and never could walk with
her. Then it all burst upon her at once.
One day she appeared at my office,
walked straight in, and came to my desk
with a quick step. At first, I didn't know
her. Iler face was ashen pale, her eyes
sunken and wild, her very hps white. I
said not aword,hrit took her by the hand
and led her by the hand, and led her
would not sit, but stood wringing her
hands slowly.
"I am dismissed from the school, and
requested to find another lodging," she
whispered, hoarsely. "Now tell me what
al! this cones from. What started all
, these shameful stories, which I never
hard a sylable of till last night ?
I told her all I knew. I would not re
vroach her now for her stubbarn toolishess,
tor ehe reproach the for not having
told her sooner. I assured her that I had
imght for her, and that this thunder
clap was as unexpected to me as to her.
"So it is to Vassar, I sent for him at
the house this morning, and asked him
ti clear me before them all He swore
that he had never said a word against me
Ac felt very uncomfortable ; and after
the others had gone away he asked me to
parry him."
"Are you going to ?" I asked.
tier eyes flashed out at me as she ex—
"No! But what am I to do ?
These stories are everywhere. Do you be•
love that they all come from those letlers?"
"Certainly," I replied. What did Vas.
sar say at the house? Did he say that
there wasn't a word of truth in the stor—
ies, and that you were entitled to ma—
peet ?"
"I don't know," she said, confusedly,
walking to and fro. "He swore over and
over that he hadn't said one word against
me."
'Didn't he swear that there wasn't a
wad to say ?" I asked, impatiently.
[ don't know. I suppose he meant
Lila," she said, wringing her hands.
took my hat and went straight to the
liaise with her, and, leaving her in the
parlor. went into the dining room to see
Ms. Walsh. the landlady.
'Vassar made a had matter worse." the
lady said. "He could oars cleared her,
aid didn't. He never said that she was
editled to our respect, but only that he
hat never said anything against her."
-tp,i you know that he offered himself
tx her. and was refused ?" I asked.
The landlady shrugged her shoulders.
"I am sorry for Agnes," she said, after
I lad raved a while "She is a very am
ialle girl, but imprudent. I never could
mderstand Mr taking up with him, and
rutting up with his caprice as she has.—
\re have talked to her about it, but with
int effect. Girls must be more prudent..
1 am sorry ; but I have three unmarried
ditighters, and I would rather that Ag
not should go."
. talked an hour, but it did no good.—
Tkn 1 went out of town a little way,atid,
caled on an old friend of mine. She,
gcnd Bouhconsented to receive Aenee,and
infr;end her
Then 1 went to the schoolmistress.
"I feel very sorry for it,"she said`. "hut
malty. what could I do ? The parents
usisted that she should be removed. If
tie writer of those letters could be found
awl punished, she might be reinstated. I
don't b lieve a word against her."
I told her my conviction, which had
!leen a su.picion from the first, that Vas
'Bar had. written the letters in order to
'drive Agnes to have him. The school
mistress was astonished, and at first in—
credulous.
"Why should he wish to taint a girl's
name if he wanted to marry her ?"
"Because he has all along seen that she
vill hare him in no other way. Morebv
w, he is a coarse-natured fellow ; and so
'org as he knows her to be good, doesn't
'care what others may say or think."
My next move was to take Agnes out
to her new home, where she was received
with orn arms.
"May God reward you !" she said sink
ing into the chair offered her, too weak
and helpless to do anything for herself.
Mrs. Marion took her bonnet and shawl
and tenderly smoothered back the hair
from her throbbing forhead.
"You poor child she said pityingly ;
" , itio't believe that all 'is lost. There are
few who go through life without meeting
some sorrow like this. You will come
out al, right. Never fear."
Agnes lifted her incredulous eyes to
the widow's face.
"If it were anything else l" she mur—
mured, ahiveringly. "But slander against
one's charactql—they are always remem
bered."
"Not always to their harm, dear," the
widow persisted. "I have known persons
who were thought more of, alter it was
known that they had been belied."
I left the two woman together. A man
is a bungler on such occasions, unless he
is a lover; and that I was not, though I
had never been so neat it as when I saw
Agnes in trouble.
Frank Jameson came to see me to-day
or two after; loitered into my room, and
seated himself by a window without say
ings, word. I knew that he liked Agnes,
but I had riot known that he was so bard
hit.
Re looked very bad. I should have
thought that he had gone through a fever,
"Rang it, "man ! why don't you say
Something P", he said,. -savagely, after
few minutes.
"I've got nothing good to say, except
one item which comes rather late," I an
13111tri+171211•Itcrtmil vrintn. - - -
"Hands off, now 1 Just put that other I
swered. "Agnes has turned Vassar off
forever. She has refused him twice."
He looked up with a brightening face.
saying, "Titer. who can think any harm
of her 9 But are you sure ?"
I told bun of the first refusal. Since
then, Vassar had followed her to the wid
ow's, and made a desperate effort. He
had first tried to frighten her insisting
that she was ruined unless she married
him. That failing, lie had begged Ms
jectly,threatened to kill himself if she re
fused,and made a tremendous scene. She
asked him to go to all tl:e peopls he knew
and and tell them that he was ready
to swear that no harm could be said
against her, and lie said that was no use.
Nobody would believe him It was evident
that he did't mean to clear her in any
way, unless she consented to marry him.'
"The scoundrelly coward:" burst out
Jameson, rather awkwardly. "And does
she pity him now ?,'
"No ; for the first time, she has begun
to think that he was au enemy all the
time.
"Come with ine, 4l said Jameson, after a
moment's thought, rising with his fine
face full of determination. "If Agnes
will give me the right, I will make him
do it if I have to tnrash him from door
to door.
We went out, and took a cab at the
corner of the street in which Agnes was
living. Scarcely had we taken half a
dozen paces when we found ourselves
face to face with Vassar. He had evi—
dently been to see Agnes, and as evident
ly was again baffled ; for his face was
white and fierce, and he scowled at us as
if he would have flown into our faces if
he had dared. He evidently knew our
destination.
"Shall I take him in hand now ?" mut
tered Jatneson, between his teeth, half
stopping.
"Come along, now," I whispered.--
"Time enough alter you have seen her."
But I couldn't get him to go. He
stood there looking alter Vassar, and
seemed on the point of following him.
"If he gets into the omnibus, I'll let
him go this time,' he said.
We watched, as the omnibus came
along the street. Vassar seemed to go
toward it, but without signaling it.
The fact soon became evident that he
did not see it at all ; he was dazed—
blinded by his feelings—walking as it
were, in a frenzied dream ; for ab! in
another moment he was under the horses'
feet, and then the minibus (going down
hill at the time) was over him.
For a moment Jameson and I turned
away, and stood looking in the opposite
direction. To any one else we would
have run instantly. but the thought of
what had been in our hearts toward, him,
and in his toward us. made us pause.
"We onght to go," I said, glancing at
the crowd that had gathered.
I spare the reader the sight we saw. It
was evidently all over with Vassar.
"Do you know him?" asked a bystand
er of me, and when I said "Yes," gave
me a letter. "This dropped from his pock
et, and you must give it to his friends,"
she said.
I took it, and put it into my pocket.—
Then we left the group that were only
too officious to help the senseless wretch,
and went our way.
Agnes had been crying, we knew,when
we eaw her ; but she received us with . a
sweet dignity that was more attractive
than her former vivacious manner.
"We saw Vassar out here," I began
hardly knowing how to tell her what had
happened.
"Don't mention him to me, Mr. Arnold
he has been here acting more like an in—
sane person than one in his right mind.
He is insulting. I told him never to ad
dress me again." ,
"I don't think he ever will address you
again," I said.
She seemed startled.
"What have you done?" she asked.
We told her all. She sat down, look
ing very pale.
"May God forgive him !" she said,finnt
ly. "He has wronged me bitterly, and
now be can never do me juitice."
I left Jameson to console her, as he
seemed willing to do,- and went out to
walk in the hole garden. As I walked,
thinking pitifully of the poor wretch,
who, if he still I , ved, would probably go
soon to his account, I recollected the let—
ter that had been handed to me,aud took
it from my pocket. To my surprise it
wits directec, to the widow.
I immediately went to the house, and,
finding Mrs. Marion in the kitchen, gave
her the letter, and told her what had hap
pened. She sank into a chair, almost
fainting.
"To think that even while lie was be—
ing run over, I was wishing him ill !" she
exclaimed. "Re hoe just left, and I or—
dered him never to come again. But
what can it be to me ?"
She drew a sheet of paper from an tin:
sealed envelope, stared at it, glanced at
the end, and read it through, her face
growing sterner every moment. Then,
when she had read it, without a word she
handed it to me. A glance was enough.
I had seen those infamous lettere,
on the testimony of which Agnes Chill's
repetition had been blighted, and this
was one of the same sort, and worse than
any of the others. The object was
make the widow turn her off.
I tried not to curse Vassar as I read
this undeniable proof of his infamy. But
I recollected what I had just seen, and
tossed the letter away without uttering a
word.
"I believe in hiding the faults of the
dead unless the honor of the living re•
quirts that they should be exposed,' Mrs.
Marion said sternly. "It is necessary that
Agnes should be righted."
I agreed with her. --
• "But, we must tell Agnes and Mr.
Jameson," she said,going toward the door
of the sitting room where they were. .
When we opened the door, it became
evident that we might just as well have
put off our communication a little long—
er. They wore evidently a pair of loVera
we walked in upon. But it was too late
to retreat, and, besides, we were all too
ahocked for any trifling. Agnes sat with
her hand in Jameson's, and she did not
withdraw st when we entered. But she
smiled faintly, and looked at us with her
sweet, tearful eyes.
We laid the case before them. Jame—
son agreed with the widow. and myself;
but Agnes objected.
"That is unless you insist,' she said,
timidly to Jameson. "For royeelfkprotild
matters—anything to pm aivaY thA tirao
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willingly let him rest. You believe m•
looking at him with a glance of grateful
love.
As it happened, there was no need we
should expose the slanderer. hit he bud
already been found out. One who had
suspected, had watched him, and seen
him write the very letter that was picked
up when he fell under the omnibus.
There was a splendid funeral over the
wretch ; and, a month afterward, Agnes
Chill and Frank Jameson were married
and this day there isn't a lady more high
ly respected than Mrs. Agnes Jameson.
It's a good thing to frighten evil speak
ers occasionally ; and not one of them but
would expect a swift judgment if he or
she should utter a light word about the
woman whom Albert Vassar died for per
secuting.
itome gteading.
TIRED MOTHERS
By MES ALBERT BMFTH.
A little elbow leans upon your knee,
Your tired knee, that has so much to bear,
A child's dear eyes are looking lovingly ,
From underneath a thatch of tangled haw.
F' - frhaps you do not heed the velvet touch
Of warm,moist fingers folding yours so tight
You do not prize this blessing overmuch,
You almost are too tired to pray to night.
But it is a blessedness I A year ago
I did not see it as I do to-day,
We are so dull and thankless ; and too slow
To catch the sunshine till is slips away ;
And now it seems surpassing strange to me,
That while I wore the badge of motherhood
I did not kiss more on and tenderly
The child that brought me only good.
And it some night, when you sit down to rest.
You miss the elbow from your circa knee,
This restless, curling head from off your breast,
This lisping tongue that chatters constantly,
It from your own the dunpled hands had slip
ped,
Awl ne'er would nestle in your palm again ;
If the white feet into their grave had tripped,
I could not blame you for your heartache
then.
I wonder so that mothers ever fret
At little children clinging to their gown,
Or that the foot prints, when the days are wet
Are ever black enough to make them frown.
If I could find a little muddy boot,
Or cap, or jacket, on my chamber floor ;
If I could kiss a rosy, restless foot,
And hear its patter in my home once more ;
f 1 could rnene a broken cart to-day,
Tomorrow make a kite to reach the sky,
There Is no woman in God's world could say
She was more blissfully content than I.
But ab ! the dainty pillow next my own
Is never rumpled by a shining head ;
My singing birdling from its nest is flown,
The little Loy I used to kiss is dead.
PARENTAL FOLLY
That all sensible parents truly desire the
welfare of their offspring is a proposition that
will not be disputed. This point being conced
ed, It cannot but be a matter of surprise that
so many pursue a course which results, if not
In utter ruin, in great and irrepparablo injury
to those sacred gifts committed to their charge.
From close observations made in reference to
this matter,extending through a period of more
than twenty years, the writer has noticed two
extremes of action. In the one case, parents
seem to entertain the notion that, for some In
explicable reason, their children are more high'
ly gifted, or, in other words, are 'more clever'
than the other children of thehibacqualntance.
Such parents seek every opportunity to display
their children's superior intellect and acquire
ments, and habitually boast of their transcend
eat abilities in their preseece. The result is,
the children soon become egotistical and dis
gust all who cannot view them with parental
eyes.
It not unfrequently happens that results of
the most serious character ensue, which can be
directly traced to the foolish idea entertahred
by parents that their children are possessed of
unusual wisdom. One fact out of many of a
similar nature that have occurred within the
scope of our observation will illustrate this
point.
We were once visiting in a• neighborhood
where dwelt a 'man of ordinary abilities and
more than unusual business tact. His youngest
son was the namesake of an eminent states
man, a man whom the people delighted to hon
or. The fond parent, from the first dawning of
the'chtld's intellect, conceived the Idea that ho
was possessed of superior intellectual powers,
and predicted for him a career that would
eclipse the renown of the great man whose
name he bore._ They were never weary of
praising him for his unusual "cleverness," and
seemed to forget that others could not discern
the brilliant elements of his character.
Time passed on until the "future statesman"
came to the mature age of 5 years. His father
w as a farmer, and procured an agricultural ma•
chine, which was propelled by steam power.—
The boy was allowed to tamper with it, and
when his parents were warned of the danger
they insisted that he had more sense than half
the men in the neighborhood, and there was
nothing to fear.
What was the result ? In an unguarded mo
ment the child was left in sole charge of the
machine ; his right band became entangled in
the cogs, and had to be amputated, and he is
consequently a cripple foi lite.
Had the poor boy's parents entertained the
sensible opinion that, like other children of his
age, he required to be kept aloof from danger,
this sad calamity would not have happened.
We have painted a picture drawn from actu
al fact, of the dire results of parental folly in
thinking their children uncommonly "clever."
We now beg the reader's indulgence while wo
sketch another, where an equally injudicious
course was pursued.
In another neighborhood in which the writer
was visiting, lived a man to whom the kind
Father bad given a daughter.. He was a per.
son of ordinary abilities and fair acquirements.
His fellow s parishioners elevated him to offices
of trust, which be filled with credit and ability.
Believing lila daughter to be more than ordina
rily endowed with abilities, he was anxious to
have her become qualified lbr the responsible
and honorable position of a school teacher.—
The truth was, nature had not, designed her for
a scholar. While this was true, had a less harsh
and more reasonable and judicious course been
minsaed, the result might hitie been lest terri
ble Mut it was, although his hopes might not
have been fully realized.
Anzioutto comply-with her parent's - wishes,
but yet conscleus that.sthe, had -no natural ca
pacity for the vocation chosen; she applied her-
light enough for the purpose, except it Wok so-
EUWgI2MM
NUMBER 19.
self with assiduity, and overtaxed her feeble
powers In order to qualify herself for the sta
tion selected for her. Often she would return
from school, disheartened and discouraged from
the fact that, strive as hard and - dilligently as
she might, she fell behind ttte more highly gift
rd. Instead of meeting with enemy agement
and assistance, she was met witlt rebukes and
the severest reprimands. "You are nothing
but a blockhead, and will- never know any
thing." This is but a specimen of the harsh
and unfeeling language (we can call it by no
softer name) that fall upon her ears. Now
mark the consequence.
Instead of giving up, she overtaxed her pow
ers ; and the girl who might have been a res
pectable member of society, has for years, in
consequence of the derangement of her nervous
system, produced by overtaxing a mind not
naturally over brilliant, been'the victim of ter
rible tits sue .unsams—ts a perfect mental im
becile.
WO have been induced to v•itite these state
ments of facts. hoping that other ptue.b t may
use them as lessons, and shun such Injudicious
courses In the education of the precious lambs
committed to their care. •
CALUMNY
In this world of ours thousands thoughtless
ly lie sleeping in careless serenity, little con
cerned about the calumniator's poison. Rely
ing upon the liberty of a free consciousness,and
reposing In the fancied security of personal in
tegrity, they slumber on, as if invulnerable to
calumny's stroke.
Be thou chaste as ice, pure as snow,
And yet thou shalt not escape calumny.
So said the great painter of human thoughts
and feelings three centuries ago—so echoes
many blighted hearts, and scores of desolate
hearths send the echo back. Give the calum
niator a thread of news—no matter how light,
fragile or unsubstantial--and, by skillful, pliant
manipulation, the thread, by cunning legerder
main, is soon dexterously transformed Into a
vast cable of slander. In this age of reforma
tion our vials of, wrath and indignation are too
often poured out upon some dead issues. We
load our guns and fire at tombstones, and real,
living, vital matters are held in abeyance until
a more convenient season. Tho sacred pulpit
is too much devoted to discussions of abstruse
doctrine, while the evils of the human heart are
but too seldom touched. The ministers, who
should stand forth and fulminate their condem
nation of these inward passions of envy, jeal
ousy, hate, calumny, etc., are often too much
engrossed by the thought of uttering something
strongly polemical or sweet and sugary.
If there's one thing aboyc another truly Sa
tanic, It is calumny. A. fiend, far worse than
he who steals your purse, is one who strives to
rob you of reputation. The homicide who, In
a fit of anger, ealousy, or rage, hurls his victim
into a pxcmature grave, is far more excusable
than the cool, systematic, persevering assailant
of character end fair fame. And who are the
victims of these calumnious snakes ?" Not the
libertine, for no charge against him would be
accounted calumny ; not the rogue, swindler or
disreputablepersonage. Oh, no I calumny has
a higher mark. The pure shaft of innocence
rearing its virtuous head heavenward is the
thing upon which calumny strives to throw the
garbage of slander. 'Tis the young man of
promise, or talent, or popularity who presents
a mark for these shafts. The young lady of at
traction—of beauty—stands forth a fair target
for calumny. Not the dissolute, bat the pure,
are the ones at whom the calumniator—often-
times with William Tell precision—lets fly the
arrow of slander. and many a persecuted wile,
pore daughter, upright son, proud parent, are
by slander's agency, sent through life, or rather
hurried through th. existence, "with hearts
bowed down by weight of woe."
Were each individual of the thirty odd mil
lions of our people the possessor of Steutor's
voice ten times magnified, and at some set hour
or minute all would exercise their vocal power
in a condemnatory shout of calumny, the effect
would be none too great to give expression to
what should be intense abhorrence of this nip
ping, frosty evil. This vocal power we do not
possess, nor, as a•nation,can we,as in one voice,
cry down this evil, but as individuals we can,
and should, draw the bow of our condemnation
and shoot calumny as It flies.
When people persecute you because you are
more generous than they, they always say it is
because you are a tool who don't know the
worth of money. When they would punish
you for being truthful and honest above their
standard, they say you are overturning the
foundations of business, and are saying things
that make mischief. When you demand Justice
for the helpless and poor, and that Christians
shall do all things in a manner not conformed
to the spirit (A this world—that is, do all things
unselfishly, and in a magnanimous . and loving
spirit—they say you are a demagogue, and that
you would upturn and overthrow society. Your
amiability they would term shallowness ; your
spirit, temper ; your self-sacrifice is to them a
lack of appreciation for the good things of life,
or a pride in Buttering ; if you contend for the
right, they say you delight in controversy; it
you keep silent, they will stigmatize you as a
stupid or sullen fellow. - -
All those unfortunates who have fallen under
the lash of an unruly tongue desire to make
scandal a punishable offence, and declare that
in thisparticular at least. the world has degen
erated, as, in old times, the scandal-monger
paid dearly for sins committed. In Germany a
dame who let her tongue wag too freely about
her neighbors, used to be compelled to stand
uponii block in the market place, with a heavy
stone dangling from her neck, shaped either
like a bottle, a loaf, an oval dish, or represent
ing a woman putting out her tongue, unless she
• happened to be rich enough to buy permission
to exchange the hatellil stone fcir a bag of hops,
I tied around with a red - ribbon. Two centuries
ago, an English woman venturing to take liber
ties with the good nano of "hire. lifayoressr.
had to walk through the streets of the town,
preceded by a min tinkling a small bell, bear
ing an old bigont uptm her shoulders, from the
end of which'ilitriglodk wooden mortar. Ste
' fordshire scolds did not get off so easily. They
had to follow the bell man until they showed
unmistakable signs of repentance, beingldebar
red from giving anyone a bit of their mind by
the branks or &cold's bridle, an ingenious ar• .
rangement of metal hoopi contrived tn clasp
the head and. the neck finial:might the padlock
behind remained locked, labile a spiked plate
pressed upon the tongue, so as-to effectually
nreelude its owner making any use of it. .The .
breaks, however, was not " peculiar to Stafford
shire ; it was In use in Scotland centuries ago.
A wise man stands fl . 111-extremities,
'and bears theaityWith a divine
temper. ' • . - -
Virtue not so verontllo Le Ito nature as na
bo.lmpra ticablo In any potiable condition
human 1
YOUrd vanead