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FOR FARMER AND ME CHANIC. ..... : •
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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=