'erms of Publication,
T«
TtlE TIOGA. COUNTY AGITATOR is pub
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From tlio Baltimore Patriot.
OUT OF WORK, j
A STORY FOR THANKSGIVING EVE.
BY ANNIE BOI’THOOMB.
CHAPTER I.
The rain fell in torrents; the demon of
the storm shrieked through the now deserted
streets like the voice of a"n angry spirit, while
(he windows rattled and branches of leafless
trees grated harshly against the panes, Ii
was a cheerlps's* Thanksgiving Eve without,
but in the well furnished parlor of Mr. At
wood nil was gaiety and happiness. Tea
was over ; the family adjourned to the parley;
the bright, cheerful grate, filled with glowing
anthracite, diffused an air of comlbttthrough
the apartment. Mr. Atwood was a merchant
of well established reputalion for wealth, and
a mao who, by careful examination, was able
to form an estimate of the actual value of the
services of every one in his employ, and one
who would pay to the last farthing the wages
due, but would invariably pul them down to
the lowest possible cenl. He had been look
ing over the numerous gifts with which the
centre table was loaded, when his daughter
and son entered the room.
“Well Ada,” said he, bow do you purpose
spending Thanksgiving ?”
“0, Pa, you know we have a dinner party
to-morrow !”
“Yes, Pa,” said'a little flaxen.haired girl
by his side, “,%u ought to see the turkeys
and pies. Sgra a' heap ; and O, this many
cakes, (stretching out her little hands to indi
cale Ma has so many good
ihingsjbr Thanksgiving. And I have new
dresses, gaiters, and O, such a darling little
bonnet. 0, ain’t I glad to see Thanksglv
jng!”
“Ada, has your new dress come in ?” ask
ed Mrs. Atwood, on entering the parlor.
“No,” said Ada, “Now don’t you think
it provoking. That hateful Mrs. Castleton
has disappointed me. She sent a note inform
ing me that it would be impossible to get my
dress done, aa her child is sick, and as it is
Thanksgiving, she wants the day to attend to
some necessary matters for the family. Her
child sick! The little brat; it would be a
good thing if all poor sick children were dead,
lam sure. And Thanksgiving, 100 I What
impudence! What is Thanksgiving day to
her more than any other day ! I declare
some of these poor people do pul on airs.—
And (hen she had the audacity to send to see
if I could (el her have the little bill I owe
her, to get something for Thanksgiving !”
“And of course you gave it to her, sis?”
said hft oroiner, a ran, tiandsbnie-iooking
young man, of perhaps twemy-one or twenty.
two years, who had apparently oetuagaoiucu
in tha perusal of a paper, but notwithstand
ing had been a listener to the conversation.
“Of course I did no such thing ! Charlie.
Do you think I am going to pay away the last
cent, when you know 1 have spent s_o much
for presents. Just look on that table, and you
i can guess the extent of my finances.
“Oh, sister could you refuse to pay a just
debt, and squander away so much money
uselessly. For shame'.’’
“Now,.Charlie, don’t go into one of your
Forrest altitudes ! I did not refuse to pay it,
but totd tbe girl that, when she brought my
dress homo, she should have the bill.”
“Who is making your dress, Ada?” said
Mr. Atwood, looking up.
“Mrs. Castleton.”
“Castleton! Why that is Fred Castlelon’s
wife. He is a clerk in my counting room.
I don’t think she can be out of money; Fred
got his wages on Saturday night.”
I “Yes, hut to-morrow is Thanksgiving,”
said Charlie.
“Thanksgiving! And suppose it is. What
has that to dct with their being out of money 1
What poor people' to go to un
necessary expense in making preparations
for a holiday if they cannot afford it 1 That
is a principle I despise in the working class.
Thay must follow the fashion, and haveiheir
turkey on Thanksgiving day because the rich
have one. All wrong, all wrong."
“Yes, Pa,” said Charlie, “but the working
class require a holiday as- well as those in
good circumstances, and of course like to
have something better than usual when their
friends call on them, as well as we. And,
Pn, is it true that you gave orders to dis
charge Mr. Caslleton this evening 1 Stewart
tells me it was by your orders.”
“Mr. Stewart is paid to execute my otdets,
Dot to repeal them ; and if I choose to dis
charge one or all of my clerks, it is no-busi
ness of Stewart’s, or yours either.” And
with a heavy frown he passed into the street,
.closing the door violently after him.
“Charlie, what have you been saying to
fa,’’ said Ada. “I wish you would mind
yoo,r own business. Now, you nave pul him
.in a had humor, i intended to ask him to
gel a box at the opera for 10-tßorrow night,
.but it's no use now.”
The spoiled beauty pooled her rosy lips
as she looked contemptuously at her brother.
“He!i,JAda, you ought to ,te ashamed of
yourself to keep poor Mrs. Casileion wailing
tor her money when you know her husband
was discharged this very evening. IJo doubt
*be peeds it. I wdlisiep round and pay it for
‘■Go then, and pay her if you choose; but
latnecnbet it is on your own responsibility,”
* * * * * * *
- We will now look upon the family of Fred
erick Castleton bn the same Thanksgiving
, a " n a Sf nall, yet neat apartment, sal a
pale but handsome woman, bending over the j
cradle of a sleeping child. The.tears drop
ped from her eyes as aha gazed upon the al
tered face of lbs sleeper. The table, covered
with a coarse but snowy cloth, stood with the
frugal supper upon it, near which sat a little
g>r! of eight or nine summers, turning over
THE AGITATOR.
ta m Srttnaum at m at JFmtrum sun ttjr spwaa or maims Mtiavm'
WHII.E THEBE, SB ALL BE A WRONG PXRtagTED, AND UNTIL “KAH’s INHUMANITY TO MAN” SHALL CEASE, AGITATION MUST CONTINUE.
you. iv.
the leaves of a juvenile loy book. At length,
growing tired of the book, she arose and°sa!
down upon a low stool at the mother’s feet.
“Mother, don’t you think Miss Atwood
mean not to pay you, when she has so much
money. And O, you just ought to see the
nice things they have there ; and the biggest
turkeys you ever saw 1 The girl says they
are to have a dinner party to-morrow. Don’t
I wish we were rich. Mother, what are we
going to have ?—la papa -going to get a tur
key to night 7”
“Hush, Lizzie, hush ; here comes papa.”
Mrs. Castlelon arose and opened the door.
Her husband entered dripping with the rain.
“Oh, Fred, you are wet. Let me help you
off with your coat, and take off those wet
boots. Here Lizzie,.get papa dry shoes.”
“There Ellen, that will do. You make a
complete child of me,” 'After Casdeton’s
wet garments had been removed, his wife re
plenished the -fire, and they took their seals
at the table.
“O, Ellen I have been so worried that I
almost forgot to ask bow the baby is.”
“Poor little fellow,diwc sleeps now, but the
Doctor does not think him much better.”
Mr. Castleton arose and looked at the child.
“Oh, Ellen this is a gloomy Thanksgiving
Eve to us. I fear the baby will not see the
light of another day .”
- His wife’s only answer was in tears.
Tbe meal was partaken of in silence. Mr.
Castleton sighed heavily, and ate hut very
little.
“Will you lake another cup of tea ?’’ urged
his wife. “You look tired and cold,”
“No, Ellen, I cannot eat. Tell me, do
you think our coal will last this week?”
“1 am afraid not.”
“Weil, Ellen, I do not see how we are to
get along through this gloomy winter, and
we owe two months rent now 1”
“Papa, ain’t you going to get my new shoes
to-night for Thanksgiving? Elbe Boon is
going to have a little party to-morrow, and
mother said if I got my shoes I might go.”
Mr. Castleton covered his face with his
hands.
“Fred,” said his wife, “I hale to ask you,
but if yon would ask Mr. Atwood to advance
us five dollars to get some coal it would be
such an accommodation to us. The baby
being sick has hindered us so much that I
could not finish Miss Ada’s dress, and she
won’t settle the bill now standingninlil it is
sent home. Besides, I want to get Lizzie’s
shoes. The two younger girls must wail for
theirs; though, poor things, they will he so
disappointed. Why do you not speak ?”
“Because, Ellen,” said her husband, in a
‘f SL e ia°MPdbyM r !3 Vffiftft4 Vatrkinhm tof
money.”
“Oh, Fred ! Well, never mind. The
God who has taken care of us in our former
trials will lake care of ua now. j And you
really feared to tell me the evil tidings, did
you T’ said Mrs. Caslleton, laying her hand
upon his arm. “We have seen some bright,
happy days, and some stormy weather, but
if God only spares my child 1 will try to take
this "trouble lightly.”
-'“Lizzie, dear, clear up the table, and I will
sit down and finish Miss Atwood's dress.”
Then turning-to her husband,
“I guess you need not go out in the storm
to market. I think I can make out with
what provision I have in the house,"
“Oh Ellen, why do you try to disguise the
fact of our not being able to afford a Thanks
giving dinner?”
“True, we cannot afford it, and therefore
it would be wrong to gel it. What little mon
ey we have, it is necessary for us to econo
omize, until you can obtain another situa
tion.”
“Oh, Ellen, another situation I But wlten
will that be 1”
“Let us hope for the best, and not despond.”
“Ellen, pul away that work and take the
baby ; something unusual is the mailer with
him.”
Mrs. Caslleton arose in alarm and found
the little one in spasms.
“Ob, Fred, run for the doctor. Our child
is dying. Dying! Great God! Is not my
cup of sorrow overflowing?”
The doctor soon made bis appearance, and
prescribed the usual remedies, leaving orders
for the medicine to be given regularly thro’
the night, and a careful watch kept over the
sufferer.
CHAPTER XX.
Mrs. Castleton sat by the side of the sick
child, sewing on the dress destined to adorn
the person of the haughty Ada Atwood at the
dinner party to be given on Thanksgiving
day. The tears would flow when she tho I
of the gloomy future. She strove to sup
press all signs of emotion before her husband,
fearing lo worry him; but her heart sunk
within her when she thought of the coming
winter, the want of fuel, the rent in arrears,
of sickness, perhaps of death- Was it any
wonder that,’in the bitterness of her spirit,
she asked her husband : “Did God ma k e
a thanksgiving for the poor 1”
“ So, you have cotne lo ihat el lasi. zou
have always preached upon patience and res
ignation. But do you think I can tamely
submit to be put down by those who can
count dollars where I cannot count cents,
that I roust be satisfied with poorly paid la
bor, until 1 am discharged, and then sit down
patient while my wife and children starve .
No, never! That old wretch, Atwood, keeps
a schedule of all the sales made by his clerks
and because I have not made as large sales
as the others the few past weeks, he ordered
Stewart, the head clerk, to discharge me.
And at this lime 100, when business is so
dull. lam afraid that I cannot gel a situa
tion before Spring, and God only knows what
will become of my family in the meantime.
WELISBQBQ, TIOGA COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY MORNING, JANUARY 7, 1858.
Food and fuel are necessary, and to obtain
(base we must have money. Money! Oh,
if those who have the means of employment
only knew the feeling of utter desolation em
braced in those three little words—out of
work—they would hesitate to pronounce
them lo those who have wives and children
depending upon on their labor for subsistence.
Mrs. Castletoa arose and look down the
Bible Lorn the mantel,
“Now, Ellen, do put up that book. It
only makes me angry to hear the Bible read
when nothing but poverty stares us in the
faceand you sewing on that dress for the
haughty daughter of the purse-proud At
wood ! Great God I to think that you must
submit to the degradation of sewing for her!
You, who are ten thousand times her supe
rior.”
“Not in dollars and cents, Fred. Now,
do try this once to trust in God for our
Thanksgiving, and forget my hasty words.”
At this moment a rap was heard at the
door, and Charlie Atwood entered, his cheer
fill face glowing with benevolence.
“ Good evening, Mrs. Caslleton. O, Mr.
Castleton, how do you do 1 (Taking his
hand). How is the little ones I -Is the baby
belter V’
“ No, sir.”
“ I am sony to hear that, but hope it may
be better to-morrow. O, I had almost forgot
my mission. Sister requested mo to call and
settle her little bill. You need' not hurry
with the dress as it is of no consequence.
And now will you accept of the present from
me of a turkey and accompaniments, for
Thanksgiving ? Your little girl told Ada that
the child was sick, and I thought you might
not be able to get out to purchase one. (The
tears glistened in Mrs. Castfeton's eyes.)
And now that you are out of employment,
Mr. Castleton, will you allow me to be your
banker until you get suited ?”
“God bless yoa, Charlie ; you were always
considerate. Oh, if your father had been
like you.”
“He is my father !”
“Well, we will say no more on this suh.
ject,” said Mr. Caslleton.
“I must go now, but I will tell you a piece
of news, just to put you in good humor for
Thanksgiving. Yon know the firm of Stoa
dy, Trust &Co ? Weil, I heard to day that
their second clerk will go into business for
himself. So, thinking of you, I stepped
around and spoke a word in your favor. You
arc to have the offer of the situation at SSOO
a year. Something bellter than our 88 per
week, ain’t it?”
“Yes, yes? Heaven bless you, Charlie,”
tM tu str 3*-1f . W - tc- -
ter will call around wilh my present to mor
row morning. Slop, I forgot the children !”
And pullidg an eagle into the hand of Lizzie,
he told her it was to buy presents for the
little ones.
“Did the Knsa Kingle send this V’ asked 1
Lizzie,
“No, No,” said Charles. “Kiiss Kingle ;
only comes at Chtisimaa limes ; but it is so ;
near Christmas now that 1 shouldn’t wonder 1
if he did send some coal and flour here to- 1
morrow. So, Lizzie, if any does come you |
may know that Kriss Kingle is about.”
“Good night all; there; never mind ;no 1
thanks. I am only anticipating Pa, for 1 '
know he would do the same if he thought '■
for a moment; but the fact is, he has met
with some losses lately, and I suppose he |
must retrench ; so don’t think hard of Pa, 1
for my sake. And with a kis's to Lizzie,
he left the humble home of industry and
peace.
On his return home he found quite a num
ber of his young persons assembled to spend
the evening with his sister.
“So, Charlie,” said a pretty girl as be on
tered, “Ada tells me that you are quite a Don
Quixote, in a limited way ; not exactly res
cuing damsels io distress, but paying seam
stresses bills. How I do wish I had a big
brotherJ Is the seamstress young and pretty?
You know ‘pity is akin to love.’ ’’
You may spate your raillery. Miss Maty ;
the lady you allude to is married. So you
see you have lost a frightful subject for sport.
I But suppose she had been single, what differ
ence would it make 1”
“None at allonly Ada might have a sis
ler-in-law, and have her dresses made in the
house, “That is all.”
“Charlie knows belter. He would not
date to pay attention to a sewing girl,” said
Ada.
“Indeed, you are. going to considerable
trouble concerning my affairs,’’ replied Char
lie laughing. “1 think I will have to wail
for little Lizzie Castlelon, She bids fair lo
be a handsome woman. She gave me a
very sweet kiss this evening. None of your
cold, prudish, fashionable forms; but a real
bona fide kiss—warm and glowing from a
pair of the rosiest lips I ever saw.”
“Why, Charlie is going to be a poet, I be
lieve, along with his other accomplishments,”
said Mary.
“And suppose I am, would that be an ob
jection 1”
“Nona in the least, if you do not write
for pap / U looka very well for people in
good circumslances to write poelry, espe
daily if they are good looking; but every
body knows that poverty and poelry are
nearly allied. So, Charlie look out for a
garret in prospective.”
“Thank you for your compliment, patttcu
iarly the good looking portion of it
“Don’t thank me for that, Charlie; for
persons who write are generally not gifted
with beauty, and therefore taka to literature
to compensate for the want of that desirable
commodity 1”
Mr. Atwood now came in. The conver
sation took a general turn, and the Castle-
tons were temporarily forgotten.
“Well, this is Thanksgiving E»c,” said
Mrs. Atwood . “I think it is very pleasant
to have these national holidays. At first it
seemed odd in the South to have a Thanks
giving, but it is now a fixed institution, —
These dinner parties form happy re-unions.
For my part, I like the idea of the day, es
pecially for the poorer class.?’
“Yes, ma, if they have the means of cel
ebrating it, but Thanksgiving day without
money, or its equivalent, is but a name,—
Now, the family I have just left were in no
circumstances to rejoice in the festivities of
ihe season.
“Will you never get done talking about
that Castleisn protege of yours?" said Ada.
“1 am sure I cannot see what you can take
such an interest in them for. Really Charlie,
I am ashamed of you.”
“Never mind. Sis, Lizzie will be a woman
one of these days ; and then —”
“Why, she may marry somebody ! Thai’s
chapter rrr.
Thanksgiving day dawned clear and cold.
The bells pealed forth their welcome to the
general holiday. Churches were thrown
open for the well dressed worshippers to
enter. Mr. Atwood attended the church of
the Rev, Dr. , for he made it a point to
occupy his cushioned pew on Thanksgiving,
and listened to an elaborate dissertation on
charily and the approaching winter, after
which a collection - was taken up to defray
the expenses of sending two missionaries to
the Sandwich Islands, and Sir. Atwood
headed the subscription list with $5OO to
build a new church for the civilized natives
of Feejee; all of which appeared in the
columns of the Daily Gazette, and Mr. At
wood’s liberality was duly commented on by
the editor.
Such is life ! Yet this very man had the
evening before thrown a clerk out of era
ployment whose services he had for the mis
erable pittance of eight dollars per week ;
and on (hose eight dollars depended (he sub
sistence of a wife and four children. Rent
to be paid, fuel (o be purchased,and provision
furnished, besides clothing for all, out of that
small sum.
He had remorselessly taken from that
family their surely of support, and given
8-500 to a foreign charily ! “Oh, shame,
wheie is thy blush !” It is an old adage
that “Charily begins at home !” If some
of the micsidnarics would explore the streets,
lanes and alleys of their own city, perhaps
they might find fit subjects for .cbaritv »■>
commiseration . ' » nerchanl
lor civilized food.
How many families are there who eke out
a living upon the small earnings of the bus
band or father; and, oh, how many little
comforts have to be dispensed with, in order
that the necessary expenses may be met!
How hard it is for a mother to know that
she must deny her children proper, and
often necessary, clothing I for a large fam
ily involve expenses that eight or ten dollars
a week is inadequate to defray. What, then
must be her feelings when the only support
is taken away from her children for an in
definite period ! With the knowledge that
even did he succeed in procuring another
situation in one or two months, yet they
would be involved in that worst of slavery—
debt! This is not an isolated case. There
are more than onfe Mr. Atwood in our city.
Ada’s dress was,sent home in season for
the dinner, and Lizwe was acknowledged to
be a handsome child for poor people. Her
features were pronounced aristocratic and
her manners faultless. Ada even condescen
ded to give her a dime for bringing her dress
home.
Early in the morning the potter arrived
at the residence of Mr. Castleloo, bearing a
large basket containing Charlie’s present;
and a few minutes after, a ton of coal and a
barrel of flour, accompanied by sundry hams
and groceries made their appearance—all of
which were directed in a familiar hand, sign
ed, Kriss Kringle. In the course of the day
n communication was received by Mr. Cas
llelon from the firm of Steady, Trust & Co.,
tendering.him the clerkship that would bo va
cant shortly, and with a grateful heart he
accepted it.
Now, Fred, you will trust in Providence
in future,” said Mrs. Castlelon, after dinner
was over and the little ones dressed and gone
lo the patty. “ See, the baby is so much 1
belter; that alone is abundant cause (or
thanksgiving.”
“ Yes, Ellen. And not the least of my
thanksgiving is that f have such ft dear devo
ted wife io cheer me up, when in trouble in
trouble and lighten my cares. Oh, how
thankful we should he 'h at assent
out of darkness, and raised up help for us
when all looked ns cheerless as the gloomy
night just passed.
* * * * * * *
Time sped on, and Fred Caslleton had be
come, first, head clerk, and then one of the
firm of Steady, Trust & Co. He bad now
the satisfaction of seeing his wife situated in
the manner her graceful habits deserved. His
children, too, were well clothed; and, what
is far belter, well educated ; while his home
was furnished with every luxury (hat refine
ment could suggest. Lizzie had improved
in beauty as well as in mental accomplish
ments, and was universally beloved for her
sweetness of d imposition, and kindness to those
who were dependent upon their own labor,
Mr. Atwood had, in the meantime increased
his business so far that he had removed lo
New York, where his family occupied one of
the filth avenue palaces of uppertendom ; and
the firm of Atwood & Co., for Charlie waa
partner now, was known a» one of the most
extensive mercantile houses iotha! city.
ll now became necessary' to establish a
i branch in Europe, and the younger Atwood
I sailed for London for that purpose. Before
■ leaving he paid a visit to our old friends, the
■ Castletona, and laughingly ba|fe Lizzie to
. take care of herself, as he intended to bring
• her a beau from London. ■ j j
A few months after his departure Ada was
'■ married to a French adventurer, who capli
vated her with -his high-sounding name and
■ glossy moustache; while on his pait her falh
-1 er’s wealth was the principal iattraction.—
This marriage in high life created quite a
sensation in the fashionable world, as ho was
reputed to be a millionaire ; l»u(' unfortunate
ly for Ada’s hopes of grandeur, it was dis
■ covered to be a mistake! MrJ Atwood be
t came so enraged at the imposition practised
upon him that he never forgave Mr. Mom.
morencie, for such was the intime of Adas
husband. A few brief months served to disr
pel the romance of this marriage. She soon
sincerely hated him who badj been the angel ,
of her dreams, while he .heartily despised her
for her ill temper and capaciousness. At
length, m an evil hour he forged his father
in-law’s name to a check for several,thou
sands, and fled, leaving his disgraced wife to
face the wrath of her enragetl father. With
Mr. Atwood’s increased wealth’grew his an*,
iety for more. Like the mantin pursuit of
the “ last dollar,” he left no means untried
to accumulate his wealth. His vessels sail
ed to and from foreign ponsj laden with val.
liable cargoes, but money hardened his heart
and be became parsimonious, j He was ai
the counting-room first in tjioj morning and
last at night, keeping thestriciest surveillance
over the clerks, whom he invariably kept on
poor pay, and consequently theiy were of the
kind that would take advantage whenever
they could. When bis cat-like step was„
heard, every face lengthened.! iNot the shad
ow of a smile was to be seen 1 1 j But the mo
ment he was out of hearing; they fell back
on their cigar and the last copy of the Triu
une ! Old Grabb, as be was familiarly call
ed in hia absence, was brick; and no mis
take!” But riches often makeito themselves
wings. Mr. Atwood speculated largely and
wop so often that, emboldened by success,
lie embarked his all in an investment which,
had it been successful, would! have added
largely to his fortune. The speculation tail
ed. Misfortune never comes jsingly. The i
paper that chronicled the failure of the mag.
nificent bubble also recorded the wreck and
total loss of the Ada Atwopdjheavily laden ;
with,f j.5 I. JYi n .? s and spices, .consigned to the \
To add to the catalogue of the disasters, a |
fire broke out in the counting-room, caused ,
by the carelessness of one of the fast clerks, (
which consumed the remnant of his fortune.
Mr, Atwood was a man whojhad no fixed re
ligious principles and his mind recoiled with i
horror at (he prospect of poverty in his old
age. ) [
Ada had disappointed his darling'hopes,
but Charles was as dear to his heart as i! ,
was possible for aught to he save gold ; and j
the thought that he had dragged him down ,
to poverty was gall and wormwood to his (
heart. All day he remained in his chamber.
To bis wife’s tearful-inquiries, his invariable
answer was : *• tdo not wish to be disturb
ed.” Si ■
Long after midnight, the wretched woman
heard his heavy tread, pacingjthe floor. The
morning came. All was quiet. There was
no response to the knock ai the door. The
family becoming alarmed, forced it, and the
bright sunlight beamed upon the face of the
miserable suicide. A vial labeled, morphine
revealed the means of death.
CHAPTER IVi
The widow Alwood and her miserable i
daughter—now a faded, sihU,!y woman—re- i
tired to a furnished lodging in a rjtiiet street,
where they could live secluded from the pry
ing gaze of idle curiosity urflil Charlie’s re
turn? A kind friend had ;written lo him on
the death of his father. Im'medialely on the
receipt of the imelligencg.pfi the total lailme
ol the firm, he placed his affairs in the hands
of his creditors, and, wiljija heavy heart,
sailed for home, but evil fortune pursued him.
The vessel in which he em;barked sprung a
leak, and the crew, alters enduring many
hardships. were rescued by 'a brig bound for
his native home, consigned -to Steady & Cas
-1 tloton, for our old friend was n junior partner.
The brig had anchored, and Mr. Castleton
stepped aboard, when Charlie came on deck.,
‘■.Why, Charlie, bow glad I am to see you !
Come, you must go home wiib me. Ellen
will be delighted I” 1
On entering the home of Mr. Castleton, ho
found a hearty welcome from the wife of his
friend. The children all came in for their
share of attention from Him. At this mo.
ment Lizzie made her appearance, with the
bright glow of health uponjher cheek. Char,
tie looked the admiration fie fell, though he |
cpuld scarcely believe tlie, lovely girl before
him could be the child he left a few years be- j
fore. Lizzie Castleton; was a perfect Hebe j
in form and feature, tier hair, which was
of a soft, chestnut hue,:fe(( in graceful curls
over her snowy neck arid jbosom. Her com
plexion was so transparent that the brilliant
color came nnd went tyitfi each varied erno
lion. The Ion>», silken Hashes shaded her
lovely eye of heitvenly blue. The red, pout
ing lips when she smiled revealed her
teeth even snd while as pearl; and when she
spoke, her every lone was music. Meeting
the gaze of Charles, she crimsoned lo the
temples- i
“ Lizzie, this is Mr. Atwood!” said her
father. j
• No, nol— C*2r?ie[s'tll. changed to
i
i !
Advertisements will be charged 81 per square of
fourteen lines, for one, or throe insertions, and 25
centa for every subsequent insertion. All advertise
ments or less than fourteen lines Considered as a
equate. The following rates will be cburged for
vtoarterly, Half-Yearly and Yearly advertising
_ ~,3 month*. 6 months. IS mo’s
Square, (14 lines,) . 82 so J 4 50 $6 00
2Squares,. . . - 400 600 800
»colamn, - 10 00 ]5 00 80 00
Ico mnn.. . . . .18 00 30 00 40 00
All advertisements not having tbe.nuraber of in.
sertions marked open them, will be kepi in until or
acred oat,and charged accordingly.
Posters, Handbills, BiU.and Letter Heads, and all
hinds of Jobbing done in country establishments
executed neatly and promptly. Justices’, Consta.’
bles’and other BLANKS, constantly on hand and
printed to order.
no. xxni.
nought but worldly circumstances—though
I would not have believed the young lady be
fore me to be little Lizzie.”
“ Now,” said he, after they had left lha
tea-table, “ I must tell you of my prospects
You know there is nothing left so 1 will
have lo begin the world over again, for I
have a mother and sister depending upon my
labor. I will start for New York in the mor
ning, and see thal ihey are situated comforta
bly. I will then return and try lo gel a
clerkship in my native city ; so if you hear
of a, situation just let me know. I will be
satisfied at a low figure, and work my way
up.”
“Charlie, we want a head clerk. Will
you lake the situation 1 O, if you will, how
happy it will make me.’’
“Take it? Yes, my dear sir, and bless
.you for,(Ke chance; for those I love belter
than ray own life look up to me for sup
port."
After a short slay in New York, he re
turned and assumed the duties of his situa
lion. Night ofier night found him in the
parlor of Air. Castletun. where he was ever
a welcome visitor. Lizzie hacf begun to
listen for his well-known step, and color at
h.s approach. One evening he' asked her if
she remembered the promise he made on
going to London, namely—-lo bring her a
beau.
“Yes, I do,” replied she, “but you have
not fulfilled it.”
“I have, dear Lizzie—l have brought
mystlf/ Will you accept the grateful hom
age at a heart that reflects but your own
image. Will you give me this Mule hand 1
Believe me, I value it more than all the gold
in the universe. Tell me, may 1 hope you
regard me with favor."
Lizzie blushed a deep scarlell and buried
her face in his bosom. '
“Mine at last /” said he.. “Well, who
‘would have thought that the little girl that
asked about the Kriss Kingle would be my
wife I Say, Lizzie, do you believe in Kriss
Kingle now ?*’ ■ *
Charlie asked Mr. Castlelon’e consent, and
received it, with the assurance that nothing
could have pleased him better than to see bis
daughter the wife of one who had been as
firm and true a friend as himself. “I can
only wish,” said he “that she may prove as
good a wife to you, as her mother has been
to me.”
A brother of Mrs. Atwood having at rived
from the West, prevailed on her lo make
his house her home lor the remainder of her
tt. iauiUtri—ln ) ■
the death of the senior member) of the firm,
and being in easy circumstances concluded
to be married.
We will look m upon out friends once
more before leaving them forever, ll is
Thanksgiving Eve ! But how different from
the one on which we introduced them to our
readers. Lizzie is now a wife. Charlie
and herself had been paying a visit to her
parents, and were talking of the evening ha
made his first visit ! “I will ever regard it
as a special Providence that I came to see
you that night.”
“Cast thy bread upon the waters, and
thou shall find it after many days,” replied
Mrs. Caslleton.
“Ah, I have realized the trulh of lhat
promise, for what would I have done had it
not been for Mr. Castleion, when I had lost
all! And then, Lizzie, you might not have
been my wife, which misfortune was averted
by my paying a bill on Thanksgiving Etc.”
A Widower’s Perplexity.
A disturbance of a sfetewhat unusual char
acter took p'ace yesterday morning, at the
dwelling Of Mr. Thomas Pothergill, a fine
old gentleman of sixty-five, who had been a
widower for eighteen months. Mr, Pother
gill, having become tired of his solitary con
dition advertised for a wife, staling according
to custom, the qualifications which applicants
for the si'uation were required to possess.—
The advertisement could not have been moro
than tin hour before the public, when a brisk
widow, Mrs. Rachel Morrison by name, might
have bfen seen ascending the steps of Mr.
Folhergill's residence, in Eighth street. —
This lady remembering the proverb that “the
early bird catches the worm,” presemed her.
self for the advertiser's inspection almost as
soon as there was daylight enough to answer
the purpose; and to reword her bosinesa.UUe
alacrity, she proved to be (he first competitor
for the prize.
Mr. Fothergill being a man of mercantile
habits, is very prompt at making a bargain,
and moreover, is no' very bird to please.—
Having examined Mrs. Morrison’s ereden.
tials, he seemed to decide that she would suit
him exactly, and the whole nlTtir was about
to he concluded, to the satisfaction of nil par
ties, when a hard pull at the door-bell an.
nounced another arrival. Almost immedi
ately n second lady entered the room and
glanced around apprehensively as if aftaid
thm she had come too Into. She was a thin,
elderly female, whose name afterward proved
to bo Miss Naomi Price. “Are you (ho gen
lletnan who advertised for a wife?” said Miss
Price, as soott as she entered. Before Mr,
Fothergill could reply' Mr?. Morrison an
swered for htm, “Yes, madam, he advertised ;
but I reckon he’s supplied.” “f spoke to the
gentleman himself, madam,” answered Miss
Price, sharply, “and 1 1 suppose ho knows hn
own mind.” * “H? made a declaration of his
intentions before you came,” said Mrs. Mor
tison. “I think you must-have misunder
stood Mm, madam ; persons at your time of
life are apt to hear imperfectly,” answered
Mis* T* rice, to anTsU*
Rates of Advertising.