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A FAMILY .NEWSPAPEII,.
Qcuotcb to politics, News, £itcraturc, poetri), ittecl)anit, Hie Miffttsion of Iftuful Ifitformation, 6.encral Ittelligence, CNintuicincilt,
VOLUME VIII.
THE LEHIGH REGISTER
is published in the Burc!sgh of Allentown, Lehigh
County, Po., every liednesday, by
A. L. R1U111.16,
• At 81 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.
Li" Office in Hamilton Street, one door East of
'he German Reformed Church, neatly opposite
the ..Friedensbote" Office.
Vortical Depattinent.
THE DIRGE
What is the existence of man's life,
But open war, or slutniter'd strife;
Where sickness to his sense presents
The combat of the elements;
And never feels a perfect peace
Till Death's cold hands sings his release 1
It is a storm—where the hot blond
Outvies in rage the boiling flood;
And cacti loose passion of the mind
Is like a furious gust of wind, •
Which beats his bark with many a wave,
Till he casts anchor in the grave.
It is a flower—which buds, and grows,
And withers as the leaves disclose ;
Whose spring and fall faint seasons keep,
Like fits of waking before sleep';
Then sinks into that fatal mould
Where its first being was enroll'd
It is a dream—whose seeming truth
Is moralized in age and youth;
Where all the comforts he can share,
As wandering as his fancies ale;
Till in a mist of dark decay,
The dreamer vanish quiet away.
It is a dial which points out
The sunset, us it moves about ;
And shadows out in lines of night,.
The subtle stages of Tune's flight.;
Till all obscuring earth bath laid
ills body in per, ctue.l shade.
It is a weary inlet Nile—
Which doth short joys, long woes, include,
The world; the stage, the prologue tears,
The acts vain hopes and varied fears;
The scene shuts up with loss of hrcath,
And leaves no epilogue but death.
---- -----
The Poor Man and his Sons
Work. work, my toys, he not afraid,
Look labor boldly in the face;
'rake up the hammer or the rade,
And blut-h nut fur your humble place
Hold up your brow in honest pride,
Though rough and swarth your hands may be,
such hands are sap.vt ins that provide
The lire-blood of the Nation's tree.
There's honor in the telling pert,
That finds us in the furrowed field
It stamps a crest upon the heart
Worth more than all your quarter shield
Work, work, my boys, and murmur no',
The fustian gait) betrays no shame ;
The grim of forge soot leaves no blot,
And labor gilds the meanest atainc.
And man is never half so blest,
As when the busy day is spent
So as to make his evening's rest
A holiday of glad content.
Gud grant thee but a due reward,
A guesdon portion, fair and jab!,
And then ne'er think thy . ' tation hard,
put work, ray boy, work hope, and trust
.illiscellancous Selections.
The Old Man's Story.
A TIIRILLINO SKETCH.
~ I never. shall forget the commencement of
the temperance reform. 1 was a child at
the time, of some ten years of age. Our
lichne had eery comfort and my parents
idolized me, their child, Wine was often
on the table, and both my father and mother
frequently give it to me in the bottom of the
glass.
One, Sunday, at church, a startling an
.nouncenient was made to our people. I
Icnew nothing,ef its, purport, but there was
ibuch whispering among the men. The,
pastor'said that on the next evening there
ivould be a meeting, and an address upon
the evils of intemperance in the use of nice
holicdrinks. 'lle expressed himself igno
rant of the object of the meeting, and could
netsay wli t t, • course it would be better to
pupae : in e matter.
The subject of the meeting came up at
our table,after the service, and I questioned
my father - about it with all the curious eager
ness of a child. The whispers and words
which hid 'been dropped in my hearing
clothed - the - 100e affair with a great myste
ry to me, andJ was all eagerness 'to learn'
tha strange thing.
My father merely said it was a scheme to
unite Church and State.
The night came, and groups of people
gathered on the tavern steps, anti . 1 heard
the Pat, nod the laugh, nod saw drunken
.
men reeling out of the bar-room. I urged
my father to let me go, but he lirst refused.
Finally, thinking it would be an innocent
gratification of my curiosity, he put on his
hat arid we passed across the green to' the
church. I remember' well how the people
appeared as they came in, seeming to.«on
der what kind of an exhibition was to come
off.
In the corner was the tavern keeper, and
around hint a number of friends.
For an hour the people of the place con
tinui d to come in, until there was a fair
house full. All curiously watching at the
door, wondering What would appear next.
Thb pastor stole in and tool; a seat behind a
pillar in the gallery, ns if doubtful of the
propriety of being in church at all.
Two men finally come in and went to the
altar, and took their seats. All ryes were
fixed upon themond a general stillnes.s per
vaded the house.
19111
The men were un!ilie in appearance. one
being short and thick vet in build, the other
tall.and well formed. The younger had the
manner and dress of a clergyman, a full,
round face, and a quiet, good-natured look,
as he leisurely looked round the audience.
But my childish interest was all in the
old man. His broad, deep chest, and unu
sual height, looked giant-like as he simile
up the aisle. I its hair was while, his brows
were deeply seemed with furrows, and
around his handsome mouth lines
. of calm
and touching sadness. His eye was black
and restless, and kindled as the tavern
keeper uttered a low jest aloud. His lips
were compressed, and a crimson flush went
and came over his pale cheek. One arm ‘‘ as
ofl above the elbow, and there was a wide
scar over the right eye. •
The younger finally arose and stated the
object of the rn&etrng, and asked if there
was a clergyment present to open with
prayer.
Our pastor kept his seat and the speaker
himself made a short prayer, and then made
a short add ress,at the conclusion coiling up
on any one present to make remarks.
The pastor rose under the gall' ry, and at
tacked the position of the speaker, using
arguments u bid) I have often ht and since,
and concluded by denouncing those one iged
in the new movement as in ddlesorne (*mot:
ticti, who wi,lied to hrt nit up the Linn -hon
or( d usages of good snot(tq, mid injure the
business of respi
able n.en. AL the con
clusion of his remarks, the tavern het per and
his friends got up a cheer, and the CUll.llt
of leiiiug uas evidently against the sttan
gers and their plan.
the- pastor was speaking the old
man had fixed his dark ey'e upon hint, and
leaned forward as if to catch every word.
As the pastor took his seat, the old man
arose, his tall form towering in its sytmoctry,
and his thin, dilated nostrils, To me, at
that time, there was something awe-inspiring
and grand in the appearance of the old man
as he stood with his full eye upon the audi•
once, his teeth shut hard, and a silence like
that of death throughout the church.
Ile bent his gaze upon the tavern Bleeper,
and that peculiar ccc lingered and kindled
for a hall moment.
The scar grew red upon his forehead, and
beneath the heavy eyebrows his eyes glit
tered and glowed like those of a serpeot.—
The tavern keeper quolied before that
searching glance, and 1 kit a relief when
the rid man wit`hdrew his. gaze. For a mo
ment he seemed lust in thought, and then in
a low and tremulous tune commenced. 7—
There was n depth in that voice, n thrilling
pathos and sweetness, which riveted every
heart in the house, before the first period
had been rounded. lly father's attention
had become fixed on the speaker with on
interest which I had never before, seen him
exhibit. I can but brie fl y remember the
substance of what the old man said, though
the scene is ns vivid before tue as any that
I ever witnessed.
•My friends !—I am a stranger in your
village, and I trust I may call you friends—
a new star has arisen, and there is hope in
the dark night which' hangs like a pall of
gloom over our country.' With a thrilling
depth of voice, the speaker continued : •U
God,•thou who lookest with compassion up,
on the most erring of earth's children, I
thank thee that a brazen serpent has been
lifted, upon which the drunkard can look
and he healed ; that a beacon has burst out
upon the darkness that surrounds him, which
shall guide hack to honor and heaven. the
bruised and weary wanderer.'
It is strange what power there is in some
voices. The speaker was slow and meas
ured, but alear trembled in every tone ; and
before I knew why; a tear dropped upon
my hand, followed by others like rain drops.
The old man brushed one front his own eyes
and continued:
'Alen and Christians ! You have just
heard that I . am a vagrant and fanatic. I
am not. As God knows my own Fad heart,
I came here to do good. Here me, and be
just.
am an old man, standing ulone at the
end of life's journey.: There is a deep sor ,
row in my heart, and tears in my eyes. I
ALLENTOWN, LEHIGH COUNTY, PA., MARCH 8. 1854.
have journeyed over a • dart< and benconless
occumand all life's hopes have hem] wreck
-1 ed. lam without .fri,n4, home or kindred
1 upon earth, and look with longing to the rest
of the 'night of earth. Without trierlds,
kindred or home ! It was not so once.'
No one Could withstand the touching pa
thos of the old man. [ noticed a tear trout b
ling on the lid of my father's eye, and I no
more felt ashamed of my own.
'No, my friends, it was not so once
Away over the dark •Wavr-s which have
wrecked my hopes, there is the blessed light
of happiness and home. I reach again con
yal.eivily for tho shrines of the household
idols that once were, row mine no more.'
The old man seemed looking away
through fancy upon some bright vision, his
lips apart and his.finger extended. I invol
untarily turned in the direction where it was
printed, dreading to see some shadow invo
ked by irs magic movements.
once had - a mother. With her old
kart crushed with sorrows, she went down
to her grave ! I once had a wife—a fair, an
grl-hetwed creature as ever smiled -in an
earthly home. Ilt r eyes as mild as a sum
mer sky, and her heart us true as ever
guarded and cherished a husband's love.—
ler blue eye grew dMr as the floods of sor
row washed rtway — iis brightness, and the
living hertrt L wrung until every fibre was
broken. I once lad a noble, a brave and
beautiful boy, but I,n was driven out from
the ruins of hi; home, and lily old heart
yearns to know if he yet lives. I once had
a babe—a sweet, tender blossom—but my
hands destroyed it,ond it liveth with one who
loves children.
'Do not he stank', friends ; I am not a
murderer, in the common acceptation of the
term Yet there is a light in my evening
shy. A spirit mother r,joices over the re
turn of her prodigal son. The wife smiles
upon him who th US turns back to virtue, and
honor. The child-angel visit, me at tiioht
bt:l. and I feel the hallowing touch of a tiny
palm upon my Icveri,h e;iee!;.. \lt' brave
Loy, if h.! yLt iives, would forgive the sor
rowing old man fur the treatment which
drove him into the world, and dm blow that
maimed him fur life. God forgive are for
ibe ruin which I have brought upon in: and
mine.
Ile again wiped a tear from his eye. My
Father thatched hint w;th a strange interest,
and a countenance unusually paic, and e•x•
cued by some strange emotion.
•I was (awe a fa natic.and madly followed
the multi:in influence which led me to ruin.
I was a lanatic when 1 sactifict•d toy wit.,
children, happiness and hone, to tie ar•cur
tied d, mon of the howl. I once adored the
gentle be•iag whona I Injured ticepiv.
was a drunicand. Frran respectability
and affluence, plorg«I into degradation
and poverty. I dragged my family down
with me. Fur years I saw her cheak pale,
and her step grow weary. I left her alone
amid the wreck of her home idols, and riot
ed at the tavern. She never complained,
vet she and the children went hungry for
bread.
, One New Year's night. I returned late
to the hut hire charity had given us a
roof. She Was yet up, and shivering over
the coals. I demanded food, but she burst
into tears and told sue there was none. I
fiercely ordered her to get swim. She turn
ed her eyes sadly upon me, the tears
fast over her pale cheek. At this inonittnt
the child in the cradle awoke and sent up
a famishing wail, starting the despairing
mother like a I...terpent's sting.
We have no food.Janws:—bave bad none
for several daps. I have nothing fur the
babe. once hind husband, must we
starve ?'
That sad, pleading face, and those stream
ing eyes, and the h ehle wail of the child,
maddened me, and I—y es, I struck hero
fierce blow in the face, and she fell forward
upon the hearth. The furies of hell boiled
in my bosom, and with' deeper intensity
as I felt I had committed a wrong. I had
never struck Mary before, but now some
tenible impulso bore me on; and I stoopped
as well as I could in my drunken state, and
clenched both hands in her hair.
'God of mercy, James !' exclaimed my
wife, as she looked up in my fiendish collo
otnancrt 'you Will not kill us—you will not
harm Willie ;' and she sprang to the cradle
and, grasped him in her embrace. I caught
her again by the hair, and dragged her to
the dour, and as I lifted the latch, the Wind
burst in with a cloud of snow. With the
yell of a fiend. I still dragged her on, and
hurled her out into the darkness and storm.
With a wild lin ! ha 1 I closed the door and
turned the button, her pleading moans ming
ling with the Wail of the blast and sharp
cry of het' babe ! But my work was not com
plete.
I turned to the little bed where lay my
elder son, and snatched him from his slum
bers ; and against his hall-awakened strug
gles, opened the door and thrust hint out.—
ln the agony of fear, he called to mo by a
name I was no longer•fit to bear, and locked
his fingers into my side pocket. I could
not wrench that frenzied grasp away, and
with the coolness of a devil us I was, shut
the door upon his arm, and with my knife
served it at the wrim.'
,' 'he speaker 'cvased a moment and buried
hiS Ce in his hands, as if to shut out some
feiirft 1.. dreaiii; and his dee . p chest heaved
liken - storm:\ wept sea. Nly father had rk
t
son from his seat, and was leaning forty
I his countenance bloodless, and 'the large
drops standing out upon his brow. Chills
crept back to my young heart, and I wish-:
ed I was at home. The old man looked up
and I never have since beheld such mortal
agony pictured upon a human face as there
was on his. •
It was moraine. When I woke, and the
storm had ceased, but the cold was intense.
; I first secured a drink of water, and then
looked in the accustomed place for Mary.
As I missed her, for the first time, a shad
owy sense of sonic horrible nightmare be
gan to draw upon my wandering mind.—
I thought I had a fearful dream, but I in
voluntarily opened the outside door with a
shuddering dread. As the door opened,
the snow burst in, followed by the fall of
!something across the threshold, scattering
the snow and striking the floor with a sharp
hard sound. My blood shot like red-hotar
rows through my veins, and I rubbed my
eyes to keeili out the sight. It was—U God,
how horrible !—it was my own injured Ma
ry and her babe frozen to ice ! The ever
true mother laid bowed herself over the
child to shield i', her own person stark and
bare to the storm. She had placed her hair
over the !ace of the child, and the sleet had
fr. ze•n it to the white cheek. The froit was
white in the liali'-apened eyes and upon its
tiny fingers. 1 know nut what became of
my brave boy.'
Again the old man bowed his head and
wept and all that were in the house sobbed
like a child. In tunes allow and heart•bre
ken pathos. the old nom concluded.
I 1 . 4 s arres!ed. and fur long months raved
is deffrium. I tvoke, was sentenced to pri
son ltd tea years, but no tortures could have
been itke those I endured within my own
bescan: 0 o.;d, en—l am 1101 afa Ilat iC.--
I wiz injure no one.' But while I lire,
let ine 'strive to warn others not to enter the.
path which has been so dark and fearful a
tale t'i me.'
The old man sat down, but a spell so deep
and strong us that wrought by some wizard's
brew a, rested upon :he audience. Hearts
could have been heard in their beating, and
tears to Lill. The old man then asked the
peopl:• to sign the pledge. 3,1 y father leap
d from his seat, and snatched at it eagerly,
I had followed hint, and as he hesitated a
1110111 , 11 t with the pen in the ink, a tear from
the old inan's eyes fell on the paper.
ii, sign it, young man. Angles
would sign it. I would write my name
mere ten thousand totes in blood if it would
bring back lily !civil.] ones.'
My father Wrote , AlmertmEa
The old loan looked, wiped . lits fearful eyes
;In d. ai2inn, his counteu•ince alternate
ly flushed with,4 red and &tublike pale-
qt is—no, it cannot hc.:--yet how strange
mottled the old man. •Pardon me, sir, but
that was the name of my brave .boy.'
Nly father trembled. and held up the left
atm. front which the hand had been served.
They looked for II moment in each other's
eyes, both reeled and gasped--
.Aly own injured son r
411 father!'
'l'h, 3 fell upon each other's necks and
crept until it scented that their souls would
grow and mingle into one. There was
weeping in that church, and sad faces.aiound
'no. •
Let am thank God for this great .blessing
which has gladdened my guilt burdened
soul I' exclaimed the old man ; and kneeling
down, he poured out his heart in one of the
most melting prayers I ever heard. The
spell was then broken, and all eagerly
sif.-ned the pledge, slowly, going to their,
home's, as if loth to leave the spot.
The old map is dead, but the lesson he
taught his grand child on his knee, as his
evening' suu went down without a cloud,
will never be forgotten. His fanaticism
has lost none of its lire in manhood'a heart.
THE WIDOW'S BM;
A nu AT ot*strcrts.
Service had commenced in the neat little
sanctuary, which the inhabitants of Fair
roguht had comreerated to the worship. of
Qiid, The 'moister had read the Psalm and
tlttt,'Syriptu re lesson, and the first lines of the
opening 11311111. The eyes of his people
were fixed intently upon him, for he was
not only a good, sound, eloquent preacher,
but lie was a fine looking one ton, and thus
enchained usually not only the attention of
the true but - the lalse worshipper. The
house was very still the clear, melodious
tones of the Speaker were the only sounds
that throbbed on the balmy, golden air which
the midsummer Sabbath morn had breathed
intolhat holy place. The first syllable of
the second line was trembling on his lips,
when it rustle at the door, and the entrance
of two persons,- lady and a gentletnan, dis
solved the charm. In a second, every eye
turned from the pulpit. to the broad aisle,
tend watched with more than ordinary eager
ness the progress of the couple.. A most
searching ordeal were they subjected to, and
when they were fairly and quietly seated in.
the front pew, immediately before the pulpit,' child, wondered to herself if it was any
what a nudging of elbow s there was, and how ' worse in broad daylight than at any other
many whispers too. In vain sought the good, j time. Perhaps you will wonder too. We
the sound. the eloquent, the handsome :11r. do at least. •
B. to seal again the:attention of his hearera. There was a very large attendance that
They had eyes and thoughts for nobady but 1 afternoon at the weekly meeting of the sow.
widow C., and widow C.'s young and dash- I ing society. Every body went that could
ing looking attendant. poseibly leave home. And what a chatter.
How she had cheated them Had'nt she ing there was when the bustle of assembling
said a hundred dines or more that her heart was over. There was but one topic, but
was in the grave of her buried ene ; that i that was all sufficient, all engrossing t the
the would never marry again ? Hadn't she widow's beau—for the gentleman must bo
refused always to walk out or ride out with 1 her beau, or at lea::!, he ought to be.
any of the unappropriated gentlemen of the Everybody had something to tell, some.
village ? Had'ra she said she did'in feel as thing to womlor ideate But suddenly eve
though she could ever wear anything but ry tie - 12 . 1 , 1e tongue was hushed, a universal
inourinno? And in spite of these protests- stroke of numb palsy seemed to have fallen
tions, fina , „i she came out all at once, dress- on the grain), as looking tip, it perceived
ed in white, and walked into church in broad the. very lady about whom they were con..
daylight leaning on the arm of a young gen- vetoing so eagerly, standing in the door-way.
tlemae ? 'Geed eterneon, ladiee,' said she in her
Yes indeed she had. She would have I usual quiet, lady-like way. 'I am glad to
plead g Why to all these charges, grave ones i see a m !area and happy a gathering. It is a
a s th e y were, and to the htst Ltkra, !low ninny ; beautiful day farrier rneetiog ;' and then she
witnesses might have been eubpreneed.— proceeded to the table, helped herself to
She was actually dressed in whito. A block of patch work, inquired for the sewing
beautiful robe of [tuna mull, t uclied to the silk, which, having received, she era down
waist. with an open enrolee-, displaying an io the only vacant cheir, and commenced
elaborately wrotteht cliemnisette, drapery hemming a very red bird with a yellow
sleeves trimmed with the richest of Mechlie wine, on to a very green twig, which latter
lace, made:sleet.. sof the s line ex pens i had already been hemmed on to a square
material, a white orape shawl. a white lace pi, co of white cloth, and the whole when
hat with °ranee buds: and fl were, white kid comp!, ted was designed to form the twen•
gloves and light gaiters,—such teas the des- !Act!, part of a le:d,preacl. She seemed all
cription every lady had on . her tongue's end engrossed with the bird's bill, and spoke to
to repent over as soon as service was closed. ino one. Everybody wondered if she had
And the gentlemen—he was dressed in heard what they were saying when she
style. Dan% he wear white pants of the came in, hut her placid countenance soon
'meat pattern, and a white vest, and a coat re-assured the most fearful, and every one
of 'satin finish,' and white kids too; and longed to commence a personal attack.
don't he sport a massive chain, and 'did'nt Old grandma W. was the first venture.—.-
he gaze often, and tenderly, and lovingly, , She mean: 'to do up the matter, very delicate
on the fair creature beside him ? Ah, yes,;
la, and in so 'roundabout a way,' the lady
he did so. and there was no further room to' s h ou ld no t stowed h e r of curiosity. So she.
doubt. Widow C. had cheated them. Shebeganby p ra i s i ng Mrs. C's dress. ''Why.•
lied woo n beau, laid aside her mourning,' really a beauty,' said she, 'Where did
put on bridadattire and was ping to be mar- • you get it p
ried in church. But who the beau was, or .1 bought it,' was the quiet reply: '
whence he came was mend difficult to Solve. Here ?'
Service proceeded. The choir sang, and 'No.'
the minister prayed andpreached—thepeo- 'Where then 1'
pie wondered when the ceremony would l 'ln New York, last spring.'. • •.1
take place. But, to their utter astonish- I .0, you did, did you 1 But I thought you
ment, they were left to wonder. For when was'nt never going to wear anything but
the benediction was pronounced widow C. i black again.' Every eye scrutinized the.
and the strange gentleman walked vvitli the I lady's face this iliac in search of a 'blush,
rest of the congregation quietly out of church. I but it contieued as pale as was usual, while
When they reached the pavement, he offer- ehe'nnewered
ed his arm very gracefully, and she placed / 'I did think and say so once, but I have
her hand very confidingly on the beautifully finally changed ray mind.'
soft coat sleeve, and they passed on. 'You have, a h ! But what made you I'
What a teeming that was in Fairmount ! 'U, I ha.l good reasons.' Here the hear.
What a world of conjectures, surmises, , era and lookers-on winked expressively at
quiries and doubts rolled over and over in I each other. •
the brains of not only gtea.,ippiug ladies, bat' 'Hut did not you spoil your beautiful
sober, muter--,f-fact gentlemen. like white dress Sunday night, wearing it 'way
Of such a thine' had never occurred in the up; there to the burying-ground 1'
metals of late te 'lege. There was something 'I not wear it.'
new under the su n ; a hilv had a Kenn, and I lore was a damper to the old lady. She- .
nobody knew of it. Wido me C., didn't veer had such a long lecture to read on extrava
tears burn that day ? ire wonder thel; S!! . 2.w,ei in dcterntined to do it
im'l'm dropped nil ; surely they most Lave el , wh en uhlerenetely • for her eloquent
been criap and crimson. •strain. U.'s dress had hung tip in her
The Rev. Mr. 13. preached to a' crowd , d wardrobe till the time, and she had worn au
house that :afternoon ; no compliment to him i old black silk.
though. The innate was in the pew b e fore Alter a while the old lady took n fresh
him. Every one was sure the wedding start. She weuld not ha so baffled again.— •
would take place then ; but 12VVI'VialciV was Slio find out all about that beau before
amain sadly disappointed ; and it toilettes she went home, 'that she would:' So she
, had rim at railroad speed before, they tray- begen by saying, 'your company went away
' eled then on electric wires. The minister t this morning, did'nt they I'
might have preached in Greek that day, 'They did,' •was the answer, a wee bit of
and his sermons would have been quite as emphasis resting on the 'they.' .
edifying. But one subject engrossed the 'lle did'nt stay very long, did her •
village. mind—the widow's beau, that was I 'Not as long as .I wish he had,'. was the
the topic. I emphatic answer thin time. And how the
It actually seemed too as thotigh the lady ladies did look at each other. It was as
tried to make ell the talk she could. After geed its a confession.
tea, arm in arm, with the strange gentleman, j 'When did he come ?'
she walked the whole length of the. village, I 'Saturday evening.'
'and away out into the cemetery, and never I 'Vi you looking fur him I' •
folurned till. the moon was..high. I. .1 had been expecting hfin a fortnight.' • '
'A nice looking diesialLauese she had,"Why, du tell, it you had then, and you
drawled out old grandma IV., as she listen. i never told on't either. Had he business in
ed to the widoW's wanderings. el'm glad I t the place
hain't got to Wash it, all drabbled up with I 'lie had.' • • . •
dew as it roust have been—but I don't %pone 'What wits it 1' This was rather more
she thought or cared it word about it, ,he's: direct and blunt than.graudma had meant
so curried away with him. But give to put, and she forthwith apologized by say
her a piece of my mind, the first time I have Mg, didn't mean that—l-1 only thought
a chance. see if I don't. Cheating us all in I —l—' •
this Wily.' l 'O, I'd as lief you knew as not,' said the
But the good old dame began to ft•nr that lady, with a charming air of liaivellt
she should never !lave thealesired chance. 0. widow C. ! did your good name go
She hurried thrnugh her washing nn Mon. down theta. Bo careful whim you say next,
day, and bobbled over to time widow's us' or you'll have only a remnant of character
semi as possible, but the door was locked, to go.horiie with, and remnamego chenp. •
mind ono of thus neiehhore said Mrs. C. and 'He did, did lie, and he dal'at come for
t
the gentleman went off in a. carriage;nobo. nothitig else than 1 But Was you glad o
dy knew where, very early . in the morning. see hint 1'
'Yes, and never got home till nine o'clock -lacked I was. It was one of the hay.
in the evening.' Look outovidow C.! Your piest motnt•nts of my existence.'
character is on the carpet. • 'Well, well, said tho old Indy, hardly
If she knew it, apparently she didhat care, knowing how to frame her next question,
for the next day she went sailing with her ht's
.° real good looking man, any
beau, and the next day rambling with him way.'
away °II to the mountain, and on the next 'I think so trio, and be's not only good
forenoon went with him in a carriage to the looking, but he's good hearted ; one of the
station house, and there not only wept ns beat men I ever knew.'
she parted from him, but actually embraced 'You don't say so ! But is he rich
and actually kissed him. 'Worth a hundred thousand or so, Said
'What, in broad daylight ?' exclaimed I the lady carelessly.
grandma W. &Well, if I ever toed or heard 'Why, du tell, if he is. Why
the like on't.' live like a lady, won't yon But' whin.
Little Nell, the old lady's yOungest grand- 'his mono V
1 A fr
NUMBER 23. ,
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