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A j in go p a p er .p o oto to politics, Nriculturt, fittrotart, scituct, Art, foreign, Pontestic out( iitneral jutellignia, kr.
ESTABLISHED IN 1813.
THE WAYNESBURG MESSENGER,
B. W. JONES & JAMES S. JENNINGS,
WAYNESBURG, GREENE CO., PA
U7HIPPICE NEARLY OPPOSITE THE
PUBLIC SQUARE. _at
1 2 IRUIVIC i
SVIIIICRIPTIGN.-$1 50 in advance; $1 75 at the ex
piration ofsix months; $2 00 within the year; $2 50
after the expiration of the year.
ADVICHTISMENTS inserted at $1 00 per square for
three insertions, and 25 cents a square for each addition
al insertion; (ten lines or less counoed a square.)
Ur' A liberal deduction wade to yearly advertisers.
Joa PRINTING, of all kinds, executed in the best
style, and on reasonable tern's, at the" Messenger" Job
INapatsbarg 'fusintss earbs.
A. A. PCRHAN. 3. CI. RITCHIE.
PURMAN & RITCHIE,
ATTORNEYS AN!) COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
EDP- All business in Greene, Washington, and Fay
ette Counties, entrusted to them, will receive prompt
attention. Sept. I I, 1861-Iy.
JAS. LIN DSEY
LINDSEY & BUCHANAN,
ATTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW,
Office on the North side of Main street, two doors
West of the "Republican" Orifice.
Sept. 11, 1861.
R. W. DOWNEY,
Attorney and Counsellor at Law. Office in Led
ith's Building, opposite the Court House.
Sept. 11, 18111-Iy.
Attorney and Counsellor
tiding, adjoinir -
Sept. 11, ISM
C. A. BLACK. JOHN PHELAN.
BLACK & PHELAN,
TTORNEYS AND COUNSELLORS AT LAW
Office in the Court House, Waynesburg.
DR. D. W. BRADEN,
Physician and Surgeon. Office in the Old Bank
Wing, Main street. Sept. 11, 1861-Iv.
DR. W. L. CREIGH,
Physician and Surgeon,
And dealer in Drugs, Medicines. OM, Paints, ice.
Main street, a few• doors east of the Bank.
pt. 11, 1861-Iy.
M. A. HARVEY,
ruggist and Apothecary, and dealer in Paints and
the most celebrated Patent Medicines, and Pur
tors for medicinal purposes.
•. 11, 186IL-Iy.
WM. A. PORTE .
Wholesale and Retail Dealer in For
Dr Is, Groceries, Notions, atr
°site the Court House, keeps always on hand
stock of Seasonable Dry Goods, Groceries, How
Shoes, and Notions generally.
pt. 11, 18111—iy.
Dealer in Dry Goods, Groceries, Drugs. Notion
ardware, Queensware, Stoneware, Looking Glassy
• n and Nails, Boots and Shoes, Hats and Cr
ain street, one door east of the Old Bank.
Sept. 11, 1961-Iy.
A. WILSON, Jr.,
Dealer in Dry Goods, Queensware, Notions. Hats,
Bonnets, &c., Wilson's New Building, Main
Sept. LI, 1861-Iy.
Dealer in Dry Goode, Groceries, Hardware, Queens
«e and notions, one doer went of the Adams House,
in Street. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
MINOR & CO.,
Dealers in Foreign and Domestic Dry Goode, Oro-
Queensware, Hardware and Notions, opposite
s Green House, Main street.
3ept. 11, 1861-Iy,
Dealer in Mektand Boy's Clothing, Cloths, C.
ens. ✓satinets,'Hats and Caps, &e., Main *met. op ,
suite the Court House. Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
A. J. SOWERS,
Dealer In Men and Boy's Clothing, Gentlemen's Fut"
iting Goods, BMW, and Shoes, Hats and Caps Old
`Building, Main street. Sept. 11, 1861- 9 m
BOOT AND SHOE DEALERS
J. P. COSGRAY,
Boot and Shoe maker, Main street, nearly opposit
e "Farmer's and Drover's Bank." Every style o,
is and Shoes constantly on hand or made to order.
Sept. 11, 18451-Iy.
J. B. RICKEY,
Boot and Shoe maker, Sayees Corner, Main street.
rim and Shoes of every variety always on hand
itto to order on short notice.
Sept. 11, 9361-Iy. •
GROCERIES & VARIETIES
Dealer in Groceries and Confectioneries, Notion'
Medicines, Perfumeries, Liverpool Ware, Arc., Glass o
all sizes, and Gilt Moulding and Looking Glass Plates.
Irreash paid for good eating Apples.
Sept. 11, 1861-Iy.
Dealer in Groceries and Confectionaries, and Varit
Goode Generally, Wilson's New Building, Main strel
Sept. It, 1861-Iy.
Deelet in !School and Miscellaneous Books, Station
ery, Ink, Magazines and Papers, Wilson's Old Build
ing, Main street. Sept. 11, 186I—ly.
FAIVIERS' & DROVERS' BANK,
US SE HOOK, 'res't. J. LAZEAR, Cashier.
aePt. 11. 1861-Iy.
SADDLES AND HARNESS
Saddle, Sonless and Trunk Maker, Main street, three
doors west or the Adams House. ....
Skips. 11, 1861-1 vi •
HOOPER & HAGER
ilianufactlirers and wholesale and in i tiM dealen
Tobaseo,keirsis aud. Snuff: Segar 'Calms, Pipes; ac.,
Wrisciselligrkl ellikung, Main street.
• \ 4i , • *- .
° N • ( i\ \ \
&4-1/\) LA #_} T C 49 ( I L I
J. A.. 1. BUCHANAN
Tripping lightly through the sunshine,
Creeping 'mid the shadows gray,
Ever swiftly flitting, flitting,
Speed the golden hours away.
Laden they with joy or sorrow,
Pain or pleasure, smiles or tears,
All are under sailing orders
Down the ebbing tide of years.
Hours are golden censors, bearing
Incense-offering evermore ;
Shining coils, undoing swiftly,
Till they reach the other shore.
Some among the links there may be
Rusted o'er with bitter tears ;
Light and shade are deftly woven
In the canopy of years.
Sheen and shadow intermingle,
And the hours so sweet, and fair,
Change full oft to weary ages,
Through the weight of woe they bear
Yet the cup of cruel bitter
May be to us for healing given,
And our funeral lamps be watchfires
On the outer walls of heaven.
Happy hours ! Oh, words can never
Half their depth of meaning give ;
How their benediction brightens
All the world in which we live!
Golden hours ! like shining headlands
Jutting o'er the tide of Time;
Rising o'er the wrecks of sorrow,
Crown'd with majesty sublime.
Two prisoners named Doi Messengers from Camp Dick Rob
and Kelly, of the Sixty-ninth ~ew I inson arrived at the Burnet House,
i in this city, last evening, to obtain
York Regiment, and a private from !
immediate aid. They state that Zol
another regiment, escaped from i
Richmond and reached the Potomac
; with offer is marching on the townsome 27,000 troops, and that the
in safety. They add nothing of im
ca will be taken unless istance
portance to previous intelligence, m
is immediately rendered. ass General
further than an impression, gathered
Mitchell had a conference last even
from conversation heard. that all of ing with the Colonels of Camp Den
the Federal prisoners there awere to nison; and we understand that every
be removed dtwn South, under the assistance in the, power of General
impression that l the city ofßichmond Mitchell will be rendered the Union
might have to sunder to our army men of Kentucky immediately.
! We may look out for stirring news
• liiiirlikstern Pennsylvania has four ; from Kentucky. —Cincinnati Enquirer,
'companies of infantry and three of ! Oct. i.
cavalry in service in Western Virginia
41$rdes . a , largerinanber in other corn- ! siar. The Siity-third Penneylvania
:P34 38 amounting to fan"- as many I Regiment, Col. Alexander days, is
more. I now at Alexandria. ' . -'"
WAYNESBURG, GREENE COUNTY, PA., WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1861. •
The Marvels of a Seed.
Have you ever considered how
wonderful a thing the seed of a plant
is? It is the miracle of miracles.—
God said, "Let there be plants yield
ing seed ;" and it is further added,
each one "after his kind."
The great naturalist, Cuvier,
thought that the germs of all past,
present, and future generations of
seeds were contained one within the
other, as if packed in a succession of
boxes. Other learned men have ex
plained this mystery in a different
way. Let them explain it as they
will, the wonders remains the same,
and we must look upon the repro
duction of the seed as a continual mir
Is there upon earth a machine, is
there a palace, is there even a city,
which contains so much that is won
derful as is inclosed in a single little
seed—one grain of corn, one little
brown apple-seed, one small seed of a
tree, picked up,perhaps by a sparrow
for her little ones, the smallest seed
of a poppy or a blue-bell, or even one
of the seeds that are so small that they
float about in the air invisible to our
eyes? Ali! there is a world of mar
vel and brilliant beauties hidden in
each of these tiny seeds. Consider
their immense number, the perfect sep
aration of the different kinds, their
power of life and resurrection, and
their wonderful fruitfulness !
Consider first their number. About
a hundred and fifty years ago, the
celebrated Linnaeus, who has been
called the father of botany," reckon
-1 about 8,000 different kinds of plants;
,d he then thought that the whole
tuber existing could not much ex
•ed 10,000. But, a hundred years
'ter him. M. de Candolle of Geneva
!scribed 40,000 kinds of plants,
id he supposed it possible that the
umber might even amount to JOO,-
Well, let me ask you, have these
10,000 kinds of plants ever failed to
Ar the right seed ? Have they ev
• deceived us? Has a seed cf wheat
',-er yielded barley, or a seed of a
)ppy grown up into a sunflower?—
IA a sycamore tree ever sprung from
acorn, or a beech tree from a chest
t? A little bird may carry away
Ae small seed of a sycamore in its
, ak to feed its nestlings, and on the
ay may drop it on the ground. The
ny seed may spring up and grow
'here it fell, unnoticed, and sixty
a.rs after it may become a magniti
mt. tree, under which the flocks of
Le valleys and their shepherds may
Ist in the shade.
Consider next the wonderful power
f life and resurrection bestowed on
.ae seeds of plants, so that they may
be preserved from year to year, and
even from century to century.
Let a child put a few seeds in a
drawer and shut them up, and sixty
years afterwards, when his hair is
white and his step tottering, let him
take one of these seeds.and sow it in
the ground, and soon after he will
see it spring up into new life and
become a young, fresh, and beautiful
Jouannent relates that in the
'ear 1835, several old Celtic tombs
;ere discovered near Bergorac. Un
der the head of each of the dead bod
ies there was found a small, square
stone or brick with a hole in it, con
taining a few seeds, which had been
laced there beside the dead by the
athen friends who had buried them.
xhaps 1,500 or 1,700 years before.
lese seeds were carefully sown by
tose who found them; and what do
m think was seento spring up from
e dust of the dead ? beautiful sun
rivers, blue corn-flowers, and clover,
taring blossoms as bright and sweet
those which were woven into
..eatbs by the merry children now
laying in our fields.
Some years ago a vase, hermetically
\ led, was found in a mummy-pit in
jpt, by the English traveler, Wil
ison, who sent it to the British Mu-
AIM The librarian there having
ufortunately broken it, discovered in
a few grains of wheat and one or
wo peas, old, wrinkled, and as hard
as stone. The peas were planted
carefully under glass on the 4th of
June, 1844, and at the end of thirty
days these old seeds were seen to
spring up into new life. They had
been buried probably about three
thousand years ago, perhaps in the
time of Moses, and had slept all that
long time, apparently dead, yet still
living in the dust of the tomb.— Gaus-
Any one—the feeblest—can com
mit an error; it requires a MAN to
frankly acknowledge it. There is
greater courage than that of march
ing right in the face of belching can
non in the frenzy of battle; it is that
of enduring the agonies of the wheel
and the stake for hours together,
when a single word would cease the
torment instantly. Only great minds
and heroic hearts are capable of
deeds like these. Last month a
great name_ was mentioned who en
dured hunger in an uncomplaining
gentleness for two years. Within a
dozen hours the common herd be
comes fretful, passionate, and impa
tient of hunger. Not less great was
the author of the Cause and Cure,
than was the subject of this article,
who, like too many Virginians, be
came extravagantly addicted to the
use of tobacco, so much so that be
fore lie was thirty, it threatened his
intellect, and that too before he be
came aware of the fact that it was
owing to this species of intemper
ance that both mind and body were
failing together. But no sooner was
it distinctly placed before him, than
by One heroic resolve he shattered
the manacles which bound him, and
never after took another chew."
But it was not done soon enough td
save him from life-long suffering.—
For years before his death, the pal
sied shaking of his head was appar
ent to all who heard him while he
was only kept out of the grave by
frequent release from official duties
and the recreations of travel. lie
repeated it to the writer, and had no
hesitation in stating it to his friends,
that his bodily infirmities were laid
in the extravagant use of tobacco in
his youth; it robbed him of twenty
years of life and of honorable useful
ness to the church of his choice.—
Need another word be said to induce
any young gentlemen who is prepar
ing for professional life and who is
a slave to the weed, to raise in the
might of his manhood and say :
will never use it again?"
Tobacco in any form is not only a
narcotic but it is a stimulant also;
it not only blunts the sensibilities, but
it goads both mind and body to un
natural activities, and the machine
made to run faster than was ever in
tended, wears out so much the soon
er and long before its time, and stops
forever! "Doctor, why do you use
tobacco so ?" said we a few months
since to a physician whom we met
on the street. whose whole mouth
seemed to be so full of it that he was
chrunching it as persons do who
have a mouthful of water-melon. " I
must do it to keep down the pain in
my teeth." We never saw him after
wards, and the record of his death
reads thus in the American Medical
Times : "He suffered from disease
of the aortic valves of the heart, lead
ing to dropsical effusion, resulting in
mortification of the legs and feet,
ending in tetanic symptoms and
death." What a fearful concatenation
of human maladies : heart diseases,
dropsy, mortification, and lockjaw
any one of which ailikients is enough
to destroy an iron frame. But note :
the disease began in the heart: that
heart which had been kept in excess
of excitement for so many years by
the long, steady, and large use of to
With beacon-lights these shining ,
full in his eyes, the man who persists
in the employment of tobacco in any
shape.or form, and who, to arguments
against its employment, can only re
ply, "I can't," or "I won't," only cion
fesses himself a moral impotent or .a
reckless crimnal ; for that it is a Arne
to knowingly persist in practices : 1
which are destructive to the body,
can scarcely be denied.
Tobacco does relieve pain, but it
never cures, never removes, never
eradicates pain; it only blunts the sen
sibilities. Pain is nature's warning
that something wrong is going on
in the system and urges its rectifica
tion; tobacco suppresses the cry, by
rendering the parts insensible to
hurtful agencies, but those agencies
do not cease, and as incessantly as
before work away at the demolition
of the body : a• burning building is
not the less in course of destruction
because the inmates do not see or feel
the fire. But tobacco excites ; it
stimulates to exertion which would
not otherwise have been made. All
exertion is at the expense of vital
force, of life-power, of nervous ener
gy, and in proportion as these are
drawn upon in advance, a time must
come, as with a balance in bank,
when there are no assets to be drawn
upon, and the life-power is bankrupt,
the body fails and passes into the
grave. Thus it is that when persons
come to their final sickness, who
have used stimulants largely, wheth
er of tobacco, or opium, or spirits,
there is a lack of recuperative power;
their disease is of the typhoid type;
there is no elasticity of mind or body;
the latter is weak, the former is
asleep, and the patient lies for hours
and days in an insensible state or is
only made conscious by shaking the
.body violently, by loud words, or by
some acute pain, the death-throe .of
nature for existence. Mr. Webst%r
died in this way, so did Mr. Dolled,
and. Count Cavonri. and Dr. -Reese,
, and multitudes of other eminent men,
who by keeping the system stimula
ted beyond its natural condition, ex
hausted its vitality, its nervous pow
er, in advance ; hence, when serious
illness came, there was nothing to
fall back upon, no recuperative pow
er, and they now sleep in the grave !
Webster and Douglas used alcohol;
Choate used opium, as was said; Besse
used tobacco ; Cavour was a gour
mand, exhausted the life-power in
advance, by overtaxing the powers
of the stomach. It is notorious that
the men who, working about the
breweries of London, swill beer by
the gallon daily, do, by the time they
reach forty years, become so deficient
in recuperative power that an abras
ion of the skin, a cut of the finger,
and even the puncture of a splinter
or the scratch- of a pin, is almost as
certainly fatal as a bullet through
the brain or body. These are terri
ble teachings, but they are true.
Another Patriotic Family.
David Norton, of Candia, N. H.,
has all his sons, William C., David
T., Richard E., and Henry C.—in the
federal army. Mr. Norton himself
served in the war of 1812, and was
on duty at Marblehead when the ship
Constitution was chased into port by
two British seventy-four gun ships.—
His father, Mr. Simon Norton, who
was born at Chester, N. H., in 1760,
enlisted when fifteen years of
age, and served throughout the Revo
lutionary- war. He was in the bat
tles at Bunker Hill and at Benning
ton and went South under General
Washington. In 1775 and 1776 he
was in Freed's regiment, under Capt.
Emerson, of Candia. Henry C., the
youngest son, seventeen years old,
was in the battle of Bull Run, under
Colonel Merston, of the New Hamp
shire Second, and was wounded there
by a rice ball. The ball tore away
his hat band, and glancing along the
skull several inches, lodged there,
and was not extracted till he reached
Washington, ho walked the whole
distance. The next morning the
brave young soldier was ready for
duty. Neither Mr. Norton nor his
father ever received a pension. Such
patriotism is worthy of record.
It is a fact very well known, says
the Cincinnati "Commercial," that
this distinguished military man, short
ly- after he came to this country,
worked at an iron foundry in this
city, where he was paid the remuner
ative sum of $5 a week for his ser
vices. The Mexican war, however,
breaking out within a month after he
obtained work at this foundry, in
company with a man by the name of
George Brinkerhoff, he enlisted and
entered that campaign as a private
soldier. Upon his return to this city,
at the close of the war, he remained
but a short time, being induced to go
to St. Louis, where he soon became
the captain or -chief of the associa
tions of Fremont and Turners.
Reverdy Johnson, of Mary
land, has written an eloquent and pa
triotic letter in refutation of the
statement circulated by Secessionists
that he would not accept of a Union
nomination to the Maryland House
of Delegates. In answer to the ques
tion, "What ought to be done at the
present ?" he answers in the words
of Henry Clay on another occasiog :
"The power, the authority, and dig
nity of the Government ought to be
maintained and resistance put down
at every hazard." IP
say -The expedition against Fort
Hatteras was known by the rebel
leaders at Richmond several days be
fore its arrival at the place of its des
tination. The intelligence had been
transmitted to them by a leading
banker of New York. The messen
ger subsequently fell into the hands of
the police and was incarcerated at
Fort Lafayette ; the principal saved
himself by a timely departure from
the city. There is reason to believe
that there are still army officers em
ployed in and about Washington who
are in communication with the
enemy; but they are now closely
se-During the last few days stren
uous efforts have been made by prom
inent citizens of Baltimore—some of
them men of unquestioned loyalty—
to procure the release from arrest of
a few of the Baltimore rebels now in
confinement charged with treason.—
Tho gentlemen who interposed in
their behalf abandoned all further ef
forts upon ascertaining the astound
ing weight of testimony against the
prisoners on file in the State Depart
siii-When Colonel Lorin Andrews
knew that he was dying he sent his
exhortation to his regiment iu words
which he first thought over, then de
livered, and then requested to be re
peated to him, that he might be sure
he was understood. They were
these:—" Toll them to stand tlw the
right, for their country, and for Je
so n .,God's mercies are like a large
chain, every link leads to another;
Nreeksa* mercies:wage you of future
MY DAUGHTER MINNIE.
A few years ago—well, it is not less than
forty—my little home flock was led in the
matter of years by my daughter Minnie
—a pretty name, I always thought. Min
me was a good child, and, being the first
born, was half maternal in her manage
ment of the latter comers, even down to
little "Pigeon," the latest and tiniest of
them all. The picture of Minnie is just
as fresh in my memory as though the
forty years which have simmered and
evaporated since had been weeks instead.
But it is a father's eye that looks over
those . years at Minnie, and the beauty may
be half fancy—a sort of affectionate illu
sion. Those we love are transparent, you
know—we who love them look through
into the heart, and then imagine it is sur
face light of which we are thinking..
This much I know: Minnie was the
best., most affectionate, and wildest of
daughters—one of those spirited but in
dustrious little creatures upon whose en
terprise and tact the greatest and strongest
of us will involuntarily lean.
"Minnie, shall I want five or six
breadths in this skirt?" her mother would
Looking up with just a little knitting of
the forehead, after a moment's thought,
Minnie would answer:
''l think five will do, mother," and five
I can hear, even now, the voice of Min
nie's mother—she has been gone twenty
years, dear heart!—calling down from the
top of the stairs:
"What shall we have for dinner to-day?"
"You are tired, mother; let us have a
little ham and some eggs, with some peas
from the garden, and bread." That set
tled the bill of fare.
And so it was through the livelong day ;
for in all the domestic policy, Minnie,
though only prime minister, passed for re
At this time—this forty years ago—l
was, of course, in the prime of life, and
full of the cares a n d responsibilities which
cluster and cling to one's manhood. I
was largely engaged in active business,
received some slight evidence of public
confidence, saw a large family coming up
about me—from all of which my natural
positiveness and force of character re
ceived more or less strengthening. One
night, when the last candle was extinguish
ed, and all was hushed, my wife said, with
some anxiety of tone:
"Husband, I feel uneasy about our Min-
"Minnie? Why, what is the matter—is
she sick ?"
"No, she isn't sick—but—"
"But what, wife?"
"Why, Minnie is—l mean, she seems to
be—well, I'm afraid she likes Jemmy
"Jemmy Brun ! She'd better not.." And
I leaped to the door and walked to the
window. "Jemmy Brnn and our Minnie
a pretty match!"
"I was afraid you would he disturbed.
clear ; but don't take it too much to heart,
husband. I dare say we can put a stop to
it." And motherly sobs came from the
"Puts stop to it ! I guess I will. Jem
my Brun and our Minnie ! I guess I will
put a stop to it."
And who was Jemmy Brun'? A young
man of some two years' residence in the
neighborhood, of good habits, so far as I
know, but altogether and diametrically
opposed to my taste, to my ideal of manli
ness. I had always worshipped business
tact and enterprise. It had taken me,
when a penniless boy, and brought me
through numberless difficulties to a posi
tion of influence. That which was found
in my nature when young, was thus nour
ished and rooted through all the after
years of struggle ripening into triumph.
The young man was of a literary turn of'
mind—taught in an academy—was a wri
ter, it was said, for one or two periodicals.
There was an air of sentiment about him,
in his looks, and manners, which came
precisely within the scope of my con
tempt. I had shown it in others—in
strong business men—this utter contempt
for the least possible manifestation of sen
timent—for those unthrifty fellows who
have never an eye for business, but hang
upon the skirts of thought, clasp imagery
and ride upon rythin. You may see it now
every day in commercial houses. It
springs, I think, from the absolute antag
onism of fact and fancy—from the figures
which dot the pages of the ledger and those
which illume the lines of the poet.. "The
Muses frowned on me," said a German
poet, "for keeping account books." Un
doubtedly. Nor is the knight of the bal
lance sheet less intolerant towards those
miserable fellows whose entire stock-in
trade can be stored in a very little cavity
just behind the frontal bone.
My good wife had a time of it cooling
me down and preventing the adoption of
most violent measures. Even when I had
formally surrendered to her superior dis
cretion, I chafed sometimes like a bear in,
harness. If wife .had not been almost a
Raney in fact, I should certain,l3l,4ave brp
/ten into plungiag even noonarthitu 1 dni.
NEW SERIES.--VOL. 3, NO. 18.
Minnie was taken one day into solemn
conference by her mother, with only pussy
in the door-way as auditor. But the child,
though she moved about from seat to seat,
and blushed very much, and tore pieces of
paper into bits, declared that she was
heart whole yet—"as why shouldn't she
be? for Jemmy Brun had not said a work
to her which any man might not have said
to any maiden."
So wife and I got easy again.
But what should I see one evening,
while sauntering under my own grove of
forest oaks near the house, but two figures
flitting slowly hither and thither among
the distant trees. Like a knave as I was,
I sat on the ground and watched them—
watched them nervously, glaringly till I
saw ,Temmy Brun give Minnie a kiss on
the lips, and lookod lovingly after her as
she slipped away.
I was reclining upon the sward of her
path. Determined to meet and comfort
her there. I sat and watched her coining.—
Certainly Minnie's face never wore that
impression before. It was not gleeful, but
it was radiant, and her eyes, which were
bent on the ground, and hence only visible
as she came very near me, had a light and
depth which I never saw before. She
passed me : so utterly was she absorbed
in her own emotions.
"Minnie!" I said in a tone which star
tled myself scarcely less than the child.
"Oh !" and she sprang from the path as
though the sound had been a rattle in the
I raised myself very slowly—l am very
slow when very angry—and, standing
stiffly before her, glowered down into her
eyes—Minnie's beautiful, living eyes—
with a sternness which had never failed to
terrify. But the child, though she trem
bled like an aspen leaf at first, brought
her father's spirit to the rescue, and, in
the strength of love and innocence, looked
into her father's face at length with per
I must not repeat the words that follow
ed, they shall never be written—would to
God they had never been spoken !
Minnie had given him her heart, and
would give him her hand. How could
she help it? Even her father's anger
should not prevent her fulfilling her word.:
for was not Jemmy Bruu worthy, and was
not her father's anger unreasonable and
unjust ? All this she said to me with the
deep calmness of a perfect heroine, while I
stood there almost as much astonished as
"Wife, it's all up with Minnie," said I,
striding into the sitting room, and break
ing in upon a most comfortable afternoon
reverie, only relieved by the solemn tick
ing of the clock, and the busy click of the
"Lord! what's the matter?" and the
ball of yarn rolled across the floor, while
a. flower pot on the Nfindow fell, splitting
and crashing on the brick outside; "there
goes the flower pot—tell me quick—you
look as pale as a sheet."
"Minnie has promised to marry that
scapegrace in spite of us; she says she
will to mr—in the face ofmy absolute com
Thereupon 1 walked the floor, wife star
ing at me the while.
never forgive her, never."
"Husband, stop and think. He—
" I won't stop and think. I say I'll nev
er forgive her, and I won't. Call her in."
Wife left the room in search of Minnie.
She was gone a long while, from which
circumstance I have always had the suspi
cion that she spent the time in soothinga
and comfortings, scarcely to be considered
as abetting my view of the case. At length
they returned both tearful. We sat down
together, a constrained group—Minnie very
tearful, but very sweet and beautiful. The
interview was short, and these were the
"Father, I have always been a dutiful
child—you will do me that justice. But I
love this man. You grant me that his
character is unimpeachable, butyou forbid
our marriage because you have a prejudice
against him. I love and honor you, fath
er. You cannot doubt that ; but, in this
case I must. follow ',the dictates of my own
"Do so if you gill ; but remember, your
father will never forgive you,"
Thus ended the interview—wife sobbing
distressfully, Minnie weeping quietly, and
I sitting grum and angry. I did not forbid
them the house, as most angry fathers do,
but I told Minnie again that she had lost
my love and care. Then I was so foolish
as to see Jemmy Brun, and in a very silly
speech inform him that, since he was tak
ing my daughter from her father without
his consent, he Heed expect no gifts or fa
vors now or henceforth. She would not be
allowed to share in the family inheritance,
nor should I render the lt•ast assistance if
they 'should come to want.' I shall never
fi,rge.t the wicer the young, man gave
me---a glance in which pride seemed vain
ly ivitli a ch;sier of mirth epar
"Very well, air, we will try Awl IKCCOThe
That was all he said ; but. the cool seif
possession of his manner mad* me feel as
though I had undertaken. to 'drivel. , a .
and had pounded my fingers