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'4•••••••:',. •-7 . . . , . - 7,- - --- •e•-.-.' • 'vIRIK-. 0 . 1 .,?f.F.r...,`'..4i-.:./. : •-1' , ..•,). , ---'•-•-• •‘, ' ' • ' FOR FARMER AND ME CHANIC. ..... : • • _ . , • ILY NEWSPAPER. ....,.. Oeuoteb to pOlitirs, Nep,o,_ garniture, poetiii, Iliecl)auico, 'Agriculture, the Eliffuoion of Useful 3nforination, LI. aural litelligence,llinuoillieut, Antarneto, VOLUME VII. THE LEHIGH REGISTER,- Gls published in the Borough of .Illentown, 'Lehigh County Pa., every Wednesday BY .A. L. lUiUJ, At $1 50 per annum, payable In advance, and $2 00 if not paid until the end of the year. " . No paper discontinued, until all arrearages are paid except at the option of the proprietor. ADVERTISMMENTS, making not more thnn one square, will be inserted three tunes for one dol lar and for every subsequent insertion twenty. five cents. Larger advertisements, charged in the same proportion. Those not exceeding ten lines will be charged seventy-five cents, and ihose making six lines or less, three insertions for 50 cents. (0•A liberal deduction will be made to those who advertise by the year. (a- Office in Hamilton Si., one door East of the German, Reformed Church, nearly opposite the .Triedensbote" Office. poetical 32Departatent. (From Gleasokts Pictorial.) The Bloom in Heaven. Three lender buds, all nursed with care, . Wire blooming in the summer air; When lo! the fairest, sweetest gem Was plucked from off' its tiny stem, AnAkoine by angel hands on high, ip)loom more sweet in yonder sky ! Two.lonely.budN so s oon bereft, Were all their parents now had left; They grew in beauty, side by side, Their father's hope, their mothetis pride, And seemed unfolding, day by day, New charms to cheer their earthly way When lo! another angel hand Reached forth from out the seraph band, And plucked the bud so sweet and fair, That earliest claimed her mother's care; . And bore aloft that earthly flow er, . To bloom again in heaven's bower! One little bud—a dearer prize, Alone remains to cheer their eyes; The othirs, far in yonder clime, Will feel no more the ills of time, But now beneath their Saviour's beam, They, bloom beside the crystal stream ! Then, weeping parents . ! dry' thoire tears ! Mourn never, but calm thy fears; . Far sweeterties bind thee above.' Then'ever clairried thy earthly love; Tivo angels garments bright! Watch thee now' froth realms of light! GIRLHOOD :Ah! girlh . ood, joyous girlhood, Him transient is thy stay! The' dew-di:op, froirt the 'opening bud, Steals not so soon away. Thy tears are but as 4%l4H:showers light;That, melt in'rainbo'w ' Thy smile's are like the'morning flowers, Fast; fading ; hilt how, b r i g ht! . . . • • tAti' girlhood, merry &Mood, What'lithere Ifkis to thee 1 A bird, thiii pants for sunny fields its sheltering tree._ Half poised for'. flight,'one-Wishful trill Upon the pir'it ' Then pestles; Witlipfrighiened thrill, - Beneath its molher l s Wings. Tis well for thee, bright girlhood,' : Thine is no prophets, ken, To read, on life's unopened leaves, The ways of evil men Then would the night of coming time Thy present sunshine dim; And thy light laughter's tunelul chime Bcconie a wailing hymn., Yit, 'girlhood, artless girlhood, - ' Thou, too, must needs beivare, For in' thy leaty covert oft ' The fowler lays his snare, ' .And if by virtue guided not -. From youth's sequestered dell, 'There is in all the world no spot Where joy with thee may dwell A. blessing on thee, girlhood! `:Be hippy; and be pure ! Tor purity's White plumes are charmed 'AgainstAlie teMptet's lure ; Nor droop, with shivering dread to feel Life's ruffling blasti Orwrong ; ' , .111 willing strife for other's weal The woman's heart grows strong I Zelectiono. Mysterious Lodger. f e hve hada fire here, my good wOthan'lt - .e,aelittmed the fashionable Colo nel Dashrood, of the guards, as he sprang hastily, frorihhci handipme travelling chari ,ot; up:orriidst a•crowd of peofile'tistiernbled - before . the hlachened and still .amouldering _ruins of a house in, the piiiiiliallixreer of the 'fittle . .2viTht4e . %Of Evy. 'y 10 ; 6 t , »0, A FAM ly, as the gentleman rapidly mounted thi! stone steps leading into the house, inquiring at the same time, if Miss Temple had left, "and where she was to be found t' Miss Temple, air stammered Mrs Brown with a bewildered look. • ...Yes, yes, my good women,! repeated the colonel, impatiently ; .the lady who was lodging here—where is she-i' 'Are you it friend of that lady's, sir ?' in quired the woman, inquisitively. 'Yes, yes a friend—one whom she ex pects,' replied Colonel! Dashwood, with a slight embarrassment. 'Miss Temple, sir, rejoined his new ac quaintance, solemnly, .is now beyond the reach of any expectations—she is dead !' .Dead ! woman, you are mad ! It was but yesterday I saw her,' ho interrupted, turn ing deadly pale. .No, sir,' calmly continued old Mrs. Brown. am not mad, the Lord be prais ed ! What I tell you is the truth—the lady calling herself Miss Temple was taken this morning from the ruins of her bedroom a blackened corpse; she was burnt to death. But will you not come in An inquest is now being held upon the body ; perhaps af ter it is over you would like to see the poor thing, and. hear the particulars of the sad affair.' The horror-struck officer motioned the woman to proceed ; and passing his hand across his throbbing brow, he endeavored to collect his scattered thoughts ; but his brain whirled and danced, and ho was obliged to support himself for a few minutes against some of the burnt rafters which lay, piled in the hall and around the doorway. After a short time he recovered sufficiently to cc- Company the commisaerating Mrs. Brown into a part of the building which had es coped the fire, from the wind having sud denly.changed and driven the flames in an opposite direction. Here we leave him, while we proceed to give some account of the principaiperson connected with 'miner-. rative. It was a cold and windy day in the early part of the spring, that a lady of youthful and striking appearance knocked at the door of a lodging house in the village of Eveleigh, with a request to see the - apartments which . were to let. On being shown the suite of rooms she immediately engaged them, and desiring . that they might be got in readiness by the next day, left for the town of Hart ley, which was within a walk of the village. On the following'day she returned in a 14 and took possession, having 'paid and dist Charged the Hyman before. entering 'the house, thus prevening any conversation, be-' tween that worthy and her new landlady. Those who know anything of a country village, where the most trifling incidents are objects of curiosity and interest to the in habitants, may conceive the excitement which .prevailed on the arrival ea stranger among them, and that stranger a lady of !evident fashion and consideration. But Miss Temple—the name she was known by.,-appeared perfectly indifferent to, and unconcerned about, the opinion or notice of two or three single ladies of a certain age who constituted the, elite of the village so ciety. She was never to be seen at church; received no visitors or letters ; gave little or no trouble to Mrs. Brown or her handmai den; the rosy checked damsel . who attended •tip th&aparttnents, and - occasionally assisted at her toilet;' passed the principal part of P the day in bed, reading a novel was always handsoniely and - expensively dressed, and walked over every day, when the weather permitted, to the town of Hartley,,from whence she returned at a late hour and alone. Her utter disregard of the Sabbath .had often excited the wonder and regret of her good landlady, who more than once summoned courage to uskif she would not go to church, to hear Mr: so-and-so, who was to preach for such or such a charity.— But she always declined ; and upon one oc casion, when the old lady - ventured a hint upon the:sin of neglecting to keep Holy the Sabbath day, she laughed aloud; and desired sshe might never again be tormented upon the subject. Horrified at . her words and manner,, Mrs. Brown made a hasty retreat to the kitchen, observing in a low voice to her assistant Kitty, 'that she was afraid all was not as it should be with . the lady up stairs.' Thus had passed the summer; and the brown and yellow tints of autumn were be ginning to usurp the dark greens of the pre ceeding season. eliss Temple continued her solitary walks to the. town of Hartley, and the people had ceased to occupy them selves with her, or about her movements.— She_waa often depressed and irritable in the: morning, but always returned in high spir its, and much excited in the evening; fre quently bringing home with her a large as sortment of novels and other packages ; the contents of which were only known to her self, tho' Mrs. Brown was sure • they con tained bottles ; and Kitty more than , once remarked, 'what a strong.srnell:of brandy there was in the, ltkcly's- bedroom of morn ings.' . 4But indeed, sir, we had little idea who atte was,, yr how ,she passed her time at 'Hartley,' continued old Mrs. Brown,. after . liifing the substance of the above account to ALLENTOWN, LEHIGH COUNTY, PA., JUNE 22, 1853. the surprised' and horror-stricken Colonel Dashwood, who sat like one stupified, list ening, though scarcely comprehending the words which were 'addressed to him.— RouSedi however, by the concluding sen tence, he hastily inquired, , Who, then, was she ;I. 'Ah, sir;' replied the old woman, with surprise, while she visibly shuddered, 'you do not. know who she was then, or her dreadful history ? l'oor thing! poor wretch ed thing ! may the Lord have mercy upon her guilty soul.—Why, sure, sir, you must have heard of the notorious Mrs. Sergeant, whose trial for poisoning her husband made such a talk last year. 'Mrs. Sargetint ! can it be possible ?' e.k claimetrthe colonel. 'Yes, ithleed, sir,' rejoined Mrs. Brown, 'lt was the same lady. A box containing . letters and papers wns found this morning' nmong the ruins, and opened by the author ities ; from these they have ascertained who she wns;•and have in consequence Written to her husband, who, if you recollect,„,did not die, though it was supposed his health would never be restored, or his constitution recover from the effects of the poison.' -.Dreadful ! dreadful 1' murmured Colonel Dashwood, scarcely heeding the last words of his companion; 'and this woman I have loved I' He buried his face in his hands, as Mrs. Brown continued! 'She was a murderess in the sight of God, though the evidence was not sufficient. to convict her before man. Poor thing!.poor thing ! doubtless A.he must have have taken to drink in order to ,drown her •thoughts, and in a state of intoxication have set fire to her bed curtains ; for do you know, sir,'-- and Mrs.. Brown_approached nearer to the colonel,—'when she was found there was a bottle, which it is supposed contained spir its, lying quite close beside her, and it had descended along: withlter through the floor into the room below ; for the fire had con sumed every bit of the bed, and burnt a hole in the floor lard° enough for the body--for that is all now that is left of the poor lady— to fall through:" 'Enough, enough, my good woman,' in terrupted her auditor, starting up hastily, can hear no more !'—and thrusting a sover eign into the hand of the talkative old wo man, Colonel Dashwood rushed from the apartment, and the next moment his car riage was seen dashing furiously down the street towards the town of Hartley. • . ..Oh, madam !' exclaimed Kitty entering at the same •moment, 'only to think—that gentleman was the lover of the poor dead lady, who was to have gone off with him this morning to Paris—his head all over flour, told me that his master, the colonel, was terribly in love with Miss Temple, though he had'nt known her but a short time and was going to take her with him to ,see all the grand sights in foreign parts.' • Poor Kitty stopped, seemingly over whelmed at the great loss Mies Temple hail sustained in not being the companion of the gay Colonel Dashwood in his projected houron the continent. The day of the funeral arrived ; and the burnt blackened, and disfigured remains .of Mrs. Sergeant were committed to the grave. A private carriage in which reclined a pale, attenuated, and feeble looking young man,at tended them to their last resting place ; all the consequent expenses were discharged by the same individual, and the carriage left the village immediately after, with the blinds closed. It contained the husband of the ill fated woman. The above is no tale, possibly the trial alluded to may be . in the rernemberance of some'of our readers; the circumstances re corded in the narrative actually occurred, and were related to the author by a lady who happened to be in the neighborhood at the time they took place. But we should add that all the names, alike of persons and localities; are purposely fictitious. The Evening Befoie.Marriage. 1, We shall certainly be very happy to gether l" said Louise to her aunt on the evening befere her marriage, and her cheeks glowed with a deeper red, and her eyes shown with delight: When a bride says we it mny be easily guessed whom of all per sons in the world she means thereby. I do not.doubt it, dear Louise," replied her'aunt ; i.see only that you continue hap py together." '•O ! who, can doubt that we shall coati°. ue so I know myself. I have faults, indeed .but my love for him will correct them.— And so long us we love each . other, we can not be unhappy. Our love will never grow "Alas !" sighed herautitoithou dost speak like a maiden of nineteen on the day before her marriage, in the,- intoxication of wishes fulfilled, _of fair hopes and -happy °ries.— Dear child remember this—even the 'heart in time grows,cold, coma when the magic of the , senses lade. -And when his enchantment has fled; then it first becomes evident-wether we arettruly. worthy. of love. Wheri-custorw has •made familiar : the charmes ,that'are'most , attractive,- vihen* youthful freshness-has died'away.rtnd with the 'brightness oVdomentie life, more and .more shndown• have •iningled, then, Louise, and riot till then, can the 'wife say of the husband. "He is worthy of love ." then, first, the husband 'says of the 'wife "She blooms in imperishable beauty." But, truly on the day before marriage, such assertions sound laughable to me." - • • "1 understand-you, dear aunt. You should say that our mutual virtues alone can in Inter years give us worth for each other. But is not ho to whom I am to belong- 7 -for of myself I can boast nothing but the best ' intentions—is he not the worthiest, noblest of all the young men of the city? Blooms not in his soul every virtue that tends to make life happy ?" "fly child,' replied her aunt, grant it. Virtues bloom in thee as well as in him ; I can say this to thee without flattery. But, -dear heart, they bloom only, and are not, yet ripened beneath the Fun's head and the shower. No blossoms deceive the expec tions more than these. We can never tell , in what soil they have taken roots. Who 'knows the concealed depths of the heart ?" "Ah dear aunt, you frighten me." "So much the better, Louise. Such fear is right—such fear i's as it should be on the evening before marriage. . I love thee ten derly. and will, therefore, declare all my thoughts qn this subject without disguise. lam not yet an old aunt. At seven and twenty years, one still looks forward into life with pleasure, the world yet presents a bright side to us, I have an excelent bus band.‘, lam happy. Therefore, I have the right to speak thus to thee, and call -thy attention to the secret which, perhaps, thou dost not yet know, one that is, not, often spo ken of to a young and pretty maiden, one, indeed, which does not greatly occupy the thoughts of. a young man, and still is of the utmost importance in every household Fa se`eret, from which alone springs lasting love and unalterable happiness.. Louise seized the hand of her aunt in-both of hers. "Dear aunt I you know I 4elievis you in everything.. You mean that'endur ing happiness and lasting love tirenot en redlo us by accidental qualitietirhyflee ting charities, but only by thoSe virtues of the mind which' . we' bring eachether.—: These are the best dowry which - lye can possess ; these never become old." "As it happens, Louise. The virtue also like the beauties of the lady, can grow old, and become repulsive and hateful with age." "HoW dearest aunt ! what is it you say? - Name to me a virtue that can become , hate ful with years." "When they' become so, we no longer call them virtues, as a beautiful maiden can no longer be called beautiful when time has changed her to an old and wrinkled wo man." "But aunt, the virtues' are nothing earth DS "Per haps." "How can gentleness and mildness ever become hat3ful?" "SO soon as they degenerate into insipid indolence . and listlessness, "And manly bijdrage, "Becomes imperious sideneas." "And modest diffidence ?" "Turns to fawning humility." "And noble pride ?" "To- vulgar haughtiness." "Mid readiness to ob[ige." "Becomes a.habit of ready friendship and servility." "Dear aunt, you make me almost angry. My future husband never can degnerate thus. HP has one virtue which will pre serve him as he is forever. A deep sense ari iridistructable feeling for everything that is great and good and noble, dwells in his .bosom. And this delicate susceptibility to all that is noble dwells in me also. 1 hope us well as in hint. This is the innate pledge and security fur the happiness." "But if it should grow old with you; if it should change to hateful excitability ; and excitability is the worst enemy of matrimo ny. You both possess sensibility. That I do not deny, beware lest this grace should degenerate into an irratable and quarrelsome mortal." ..A h, dearest if I might never become old! could then be sure my husband would never cease to love me." • ',Thou art great in error, dear child f-- Wert thou' always as fresh and beautifully as the day N still thy husband's eye would by custom of, years become indifferent to these " advantages. Custom is the greatest en chautreds in the world, and in the house one of,the most benevolent of fairest. She ren ders that which is the most beautiful, as well as tbe ugliest_ . familiar. A. wife is young, and.becoMes old ; it is custom that hinders husband from preceiving the change; On .the contrary, did , she remain young, while he' became old' it might bring consequences and lender the man in years jealous. It is .6 . 614 r It's Providence has ordered it. If in tirne,that, thou hest grOtyn . to be an old vvo. Mani' and thy husband,were a' blooming how-vvouldit thou then feel V' r" . qllibiste rubbed her chiniand said, d4l can . not' ' . ;Her aunt , continued fill.unt-1 call t4y . ltt-' :tendon:to , a aecret • . - , Chat is it,. “inieriupted in6a4 hastily isthat. is it wbioh I , long.sq. much .to hetiv;- - :Her aunt said 4 "Listen to me attentively. - What I-now tellthee, I have proved. It consists of, two parts. Thefirst part of it means to render a marriage happy, of itself prevents every possibility of discussion, and would cavern at' last make the spider and the fly the best of friends with each other. The second part the best and surest meth; od of preserving - feminine attraction:Ll' - ~A h V' exclaimed Louisa, 'The former half of the means, then : In the first solitary hour after the ceremony take thy bridegroom, and demand a soleban vow of him, and give him a solemn vow in return. Promise one another sacredly, nev er not even in mere jest to wrangli with each other—never to dandy words or inA dulge in the least ill-humor. Never, I say, never. Wrangling, even in jest, and putt ing on an air of ill-humor merely to tease, becomes earnest by practice. Mark that Next promise each other, sincerely and sol emnly, never to have a secret from each other under whatever pretext, with whatever excuse it may be. You must continually, and every moment see clearly into each other's bosom. Even when ono of you have committed a fault, wait not an instant; but confess it freely let it cost tears, but con-. fess it. And us you keep nothing - .Carer from each other, so, on the contrary; keep the privacies of your house, marriage, state and heart, fromfather, , mother, sister, broth er, aunt' and all the world. You two with God's help,,b tildiour "own quiet world.— Everythird ,or fourth one whom you draw into, it will form a party and stand.'between you two. That should never, be.—Promise this to each other. Renew the vow at each temptation. You will find your account in it. Your souls will grow as it ware togethA er, and at last will become as one. Ah, ,if many a young pair had on their wedding day known this simple secret, and straight way practiced it, how many marriages were happier than, alas, they are. Louise kissed her aunt's hand with ardor. , I . feel that it must be so. Where this con fidence is absent, the married, even after 'wedlook, • are two strangers who do not 4inow each, other: It should be so; without ; this there 'Can' be no happin&s. : • And-now aunt the best preservative of female beautyr Her aunt smiled and saki may not conceal from ourselves that a handsome man pleases a hundred times more than an ill-looking one, and the men are pleased with us when we are pretty. But what we call beautiful, what in men pleases us, and in us pleases the men, is not skin and hair, and shape and color, as in a picture or stat ute ; but it is the character, it is the soul that is within these which enchants us by looks and words, earnestness, and joy and sorrow. ,The men admire us the more they suppose those virtues of the mind to exist in us, which the outside promises ; and which we think a malicious man disagreeable however graceful and handsome he may be. Let a young maiden, then, who Would preserve her beauty preserve but that purity of soul, those sweet qualities of the mind, those vir tues, in short, by which she first drew her lover to her feet. And the best preserva tive of virtue, to render it unchanging and keep it ever young, is religion, that inward union with the Deity and eternity, and faith is piety,that. Walking with God so pure, so peaceful, so beneficient to mortals. • "See dear heart." continued the aunt, 'there are virtues which arise of mere expe rience. These grow old with time, and al ter, because by change of circumstance and inclination, prudence alters her means of action, and because her growth does not al ways keep pace with that of our years and passions. But religious virtues can never change ; these remain eternally the same, which we.and those who love us are hast ening to enter. Preserve, then, a mind in nocent and pure, looking for everything from. God ; thus will that beauty of soul remain for which thy. bridegroom to day adores thee. I am no bigot, no fanatic, I am thy aunt of seven and twenty. I love all innocent and rational amusement. But for this very reason I say to thee—be a dear, good Chris tian, and thou wilt as a .mother, yes, as a grandmother be still beautiful." Louise threw her arms about ,her neck, and s wept in silence, and wispered, "I thank thee angel." The French Spy System, Among the many families which - rose in= to notice under the empire of the first Na poleon, few held a more distinguished posi tion in the Parisian society of the day than that of the Countess Her'house, at the period of which we speak', was the ren dezvous of all the celebrities of the time-- marshals of Prance, statesmetvartists, - men of letters, alike crowded ,to her saloons. The Baron M— was one of her. most-fre- Tient guests, and hid Oki:reputation of tie ing as witty and..dirtnidiffic,pereonage could- be met:with;. in ; -consequence, his company was -very: generally sou/M k ...Avow by the highest•circlea, in.whidh, though' but ! little was .known, of:hie family;•nr Lions, he bad found meancto,;9lnotn - an cellent footingo. , -.. • evening, in, the winter- of 1805, a brilliant, party was assembled in the gay sa loons,of•the Countess,ll---r-, when a gen tleman; well' known to all, arrived in breath.. = NUMBER 18, less haste, and apparently much . excited.-4, I4e made his way as qUickly , as ,possible.W the countess, and all crowded round to hear, what great piece of intelligencitkho had to . Communicate, - "''. c_. 'We are all, I think,' said ho; 'Well at' quainted_with Baron _ M-- --• whaled° con 4. scant a iisitet-here.- I. regret to say: that - I • havejust learned, in the most tiositirdman4 nor,that he is undoubtedly-a spy ;he have in fact; been seen to enter and to leave the cabinet of Monsieur Poncho,' - . • The assembled guests were ihtindirstruick at this unexpetted annoimbeirtent, each and endeavoring to recollect what indiscreet:ex pression might have passed hip .1410fic:thel presence of the teacherous baron,rAud all; naturally enough, feeling eittterito#fineasy at the possibility of beirlpAlO'Cuport to ans . swer / for some long-forgot:lli-Words, spoliell, as they thought, in'thuliecurity of private society. The hottdes, of course, was mast indignant at the:insult which had - been put upon her, and 7 could hardly believe in the truth of the accusat ion. • liiiivever, something must 'he chine , the ;baron-was - momentarily - expected 1 and - tin , less he were able to clear himself from this serius imputation, he must be at once ex 4 pelled from the society. After tiotne discus' awn, therefore, it was decided that, upon the , arrival of Baron M—;-, the countess should request a lekriiiiinies' private conversation - with - hlei - lbarshe houlti take him into anotherse . Om,`• and hiving , told him of what. !'he witiecusell, should ask if he had any explanaliOn to offer, as otherwise she should be obliged4p.signify to ,him f • that he_must: 1 discontinui`his visits. • In tbp Midst' of ihe invectives which were poured forth on the head of the unfortunate baron that worthy made his appearance.— Immediately all was silent; and though he advanced to greet his friends with his cus tomary easy assurance, he evidently saw that all was not right, as his moat intimate associates of yesterday avoided . speaking to him, Or ..tit most, gave him the slightest pos. nil*:s Warne, Prii i tlieing,hOwever, very natty alnishetie Be TIM; ---4 proceeded, as usual, to make, T his:', Oita The.hostess, who at once, as had been -'' ''' i,tiaid to him: 'Monsieur le Bare Wri on; m e Vquest the favour of a•few words with you in private V 'Certainly, Madame,' replied the Baron, offering his arm,' which. she declined to take, and forthwith led the Way to an ante • chamber. Thn countess:feeling naturally very- net' , Vous at . the part she had to - filiffumr, at leng th said, with some hesitation lmo* not, whether you are aware, Monsieur le - Pi:ion. of the serious accusation which hartga'pier , you and which, unless you can remoiri explain satisfactorily, most forever cloie nip doors against you.' The baron was all at , tention, as the countess continued : have been informed, upon what appears td be cm , . doubted authority, that you are in the pay' of Monsieur Fouche—that you are, in short,. as • !O py h, replied the baron, 'is that all ? I will not attempt to deny it ; nothing can be more true : I. am a sp.' y . 'And how: exclaimed thelatly, 'fievirl , Ycti dared to insult me anti MY guests, by pre.' aiming to present yourself. night after night at my house; in such an unworthy ;manner V .1 repeat,' said the baron with all passible coolness, 'that I am in this pay of Fotrche fr that I am a spy rand in this capacity, upon some subjects, I am tolerably welLinformed, of which, Madame la Countesse, I will give you a proof. On the last pay-day, at Mon. sieur Fouche's, you. received iour pry, for the information you had brought him,. irrW mediately after I hid received mine''' ~7 • .W hat V cried the Countess;•*direyoilin. sinuate anything so infamous 1 I will = have you turned out of the house instantly.' 'Softly, madame,' answered die baron.:: - 'that I am a spy, I have s not attempted tiide ny ; that you aro likewise a spy, I have lon g : known, and can readily prove: ' .We era la the same boat-we sink or swim together : if yoti praceed to defiounCe me, I ahaltalso denounce you ; and there is an end abuts' 'of us. j[f you uphold the. I will upkoldyou, and wa shall go on as before: . — .Well, said the lady, considerably ember. reseed et finding that her aticietmut-known, 'what ig to be done II am iue moat, difficult ReitiOltj''', - . 'c; '-', '= 1 `. - 7,' .... ..Not et ell, : madatne,' - replied she baron. ..I will tell you what,, to_.-do.ifia, _lgeAr - arlop. ,and we, wi retur n. 4,43,.gt3!s_,;__,lPlche,Aawirtig-, 'room, where yoe witt anneuentha4rqA?* . , planation has bUerl'etililActS97...! - : • i4 , * ..- The , counteatiirsitlinitthere was rnAnynt, • elsezto - belloni;deteimunild malterget hear of it, and Itertheindsennaid! 3 g.it° • 41101 -1 .‘ O Qm said, witk e nnaror kat. sweinistaol4 ! , I in deligllte4o,4ll.lop)that 14600,14tilanitt hafcbaon kola to Ifirrime; Au`19,14410.00.. whiph x • thoygh ISAltictibv9 l .ge /100 1 ....1 9 TasPgegel PgrflOY : Aatist i glPTY4 o , 4 l o .i 4 12 $ therefore, 1 ”0 11 .?Fgo A. Ylikbo." , to you • The. glieste,Were,zeitS, relle*KT Trout wei g ht atitlxiti , i l , ll, ,t , ; ( l°,Pttibig P u t4tt ' c o , with the utmeet ileittyiltbd The ;baron of titi gamed thatia • nions,i het:hat kis!. 'lt ,was libt'uniil lintallowards; that Ike .'real facts of :this // s ingular .bistotr. became 'folly known. .."' .: •. : . • • EP=
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers