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.Soft winds creep idly through the vale,
Where winter lately ruled supreme ;
'And wake the flowers to life and light,
Beneath the sun's congenial beam.
The birds have wandered back again,
To.claim their wonted bowers of ease
Their music swells on everygale,
And echoes from tho waving trees.
The tales of youth have all been told
Beside the old familiar hearth ;
Where friends upon a winter's eve
Make glad their pilgrimage on earth.
The song of glee, the merry dance,
The beaming face lit up with joy,
Dave made a thousand hearts more glad
Their impress time will not destroy.
The farmer, at the close of day. '
Fatigued by toil and worn with care,
Feels happy in his humble cot,
When all his household gods are there.
The winds may war and wail without,
The skies look dark and storms begin
Yet peace and plenty bless his lot,
And friends, true-hearted, smile within
0, winter is a joyous time,
For those who love the sweets of life ;
And mingle with their friends at home,
.While others chase the phantom—strife
To. those who love a social hour,_
When evening pales the western sky,
The sweetest that the year affords,
Is when the cold winds hoarlely sigh.
The season of the year is past,
And gentle May has come again
With all her roses full in bloom,
And all the sylphs of Flora's train. •
All Nature seems in happy mood,
The earth is decked in pride's array ;
The stars above us glow with light,.
Such light as only shifts in May.
MARY CARROL,
gal
CHAPTER
TITS HERDER. AN ARREST
IT was a wild, rugged scene, near the west
ern shore of Lough Neagh, in the county of
Tyrone, and in the northern part of Ireland.—
To the left, stretching away from the banks of
• the lake, was a dark bog, over which, in close
tangled masses, grew the rank morass wild
wood. It was just at nightfall that a way
worn pedler entered upon the dubious foot
track that let through the bog, and from the
confidence with. which he trusted to his knowl
edge of the way one might have supposed that
he had often travelled it. His way was tow
ards Londonderry, and as he found himself
in the midst of the gloomy wildwood ho began
to whistle a low tune by way of enlivening the
scene. At some spots, where the flanking of
lithe shrubbery was quite sparse, the ground
trembled and shook beneath the pedler's tread,
but he felt sure, or knew, that ho was in the
right track, and he kept steadily on.
Not long after he had disappeared from sight
in the intricate Windings of the path, any one
standing upon the edge
s of the bog might have
heard a sudden rustling of the distant wild
wood, as though some one had rushed hastily
through it. • Then came a short scuffle, a sharp
cry of pain, a feW deep groans, and then for a
few moments all was still. In five minutes
Time there was another rustling in the bushes,
a heavy fall, and ere long afterwards a man
emerged from the bog path and stood a few
seconds upon the hard ground. He was not
the pedler, and yet he bore in his hand the
pedler's pack. He gazed cautiously about
him, and being satisfied that all was safe he
stepped . ti little out of the way; seated himself
upon the grass, opened the pack, and began to
overhaul its contents,
. "'Curse his empty pack !"'muttered the man
as he seemed to have examined all its contents.
" I've done that job for nothing. I've sold my
sour fir a miserable podge of old women's
trumpery."
The Speaker started nervously up, for he
heard a noise in the bog, and with a hasty step
he hurried off towards a small village that lay
upon'the borders of the lake to the southward.
Not long after the man had left the emptied
pack there came up from the bog path another
man; and he bore a hoavy body in his arms.—
When he reached a suitable resting place he
laid 'his burden down upon the grass. It was
the bloody corpse of the pedlar.
" Poor Magduhl !" murmured the young
man--Tor young he was, " who could have had
the heart to take your life ? There could 'have
been but a few more years for you on earth,
and surely they might have Jell you those.—
Ah, what's this I Thy pack, as I live. Holy
saints, they've taken your last breath for the
paltry store you carried ; and it can't have
been long, either, for your blood is w arm from
the heart !"
The young man knelt down and pulled apart
the bits of We and ribbed, the pin-papers and
the little cushions, and while he yet gazed va-
NAY.
" And the things ? You were making
mighty free with 'em when we came up,
Corney."
" I only was looking to see what—"
" Don't hesitate."
" Well, it was natural curiosity that made
me look at them. You would have done it,
Phil Kanaugh."
" Perhaps I might; but I couldn't have
found it in my heart to have done that !"
, 4 0, c.a. I .141 not. do it ! You know I
could not have done it. I found him murdered
in the bog, and I brought him up here ; and
here I found his pack torn open, and the things
all scattered about. 'Tis true, what I tell you
—as true as holy writ."
" I hope it is, Corney, but the deed looks
dark against you. You'll go to the village
with us."
" Yes. That's where I intended to g , 0."
" Phil Kanaugh," said one of the others,
" what shall we the body ?"
" Let It he here, an one of you must stay
and watch it. The coroner must see it here
just as we found it. Come, Corney."
Corney Drake turned one more look upon the
murdered pedler, then he gazed upon his blood
stained hands, and' with a heavy heart he fol
lowed his companions. He saw the full force
of the circumstances under which he had been
found. and 116 know how summary was the
method in which such cases were disposed of by
the courts.
Mary Carrol was an orphan, just lifting her
head into beautiful womanhood. It was at the
cool of evening that she sat upon the door-stone
of her neat cottage, and over her fair features
was 'spread a cloud of despondent agony. She
heard footsteps approaching her cot, and lifting
her eyes she saw the dark form of - Caspar Bag
room With a shudder she hurried into the
house, but Caspar followed her. He was a
stout young fellow, but he looked ugly and re
pulsive. There was in every lineament of his
features a dark scowl, and his face bore nu
merous scars that had been left by the wound , :
he had received in any brawls and drunken
rows.
" A good evening to ye; Miss Mary," said
Caspar, as'he unceremoniously entered. •
" Your presence makes it a bad one," re
turned the fair girl, in a firm tone. "Go your
way Caspar Bagroon."
" This is my way, darling, and here I choose
o stay for the present."
"If you stay here, then I shall go. I've told
you time and again, Caspar, that I would have
nothing to do with ye. Now leave me in peace,
for I am miserable."
" No, Mary, I shan't leave you, for I love
you, and you know it, and you shall be mino.—
Young Corney Drake wont be my rival any
more. I might have had your pretty hand long
ago if it hadn't have been for his winning`ways
and smooth tonguo ; but he's done for, now."
" Caspar Bagroon, you never could have had
my hand. I hate you, and I always did.—
Conley Drake isn't guilty of that murder, and
they can't convict him. Go your way, and
leave me in peace."
" Ha, ha, ha, Mary Carrol, you don't know
what you're saying. Corny Drako is giiilty of
the murder, and he's been proved so."
" It's a lie !" •
" Hold your tongue, Mary. It's no lie. He
has Leen convicted and ho is going to be hung !"
Mary earrol grasped Bagroon by tlio
and looked wildly into his fsee.
\gt; ~" - ; .7
. -
Iruno to Tad and antral 11E114 Igiruiturt, filtration, 31Iorafittj, Imummint, 311atkag, &T., &
VOLUME IX.
candy upon them, at the same time murmur
ing sadly to himself, he was startled by a
heavy tread of feet behind him. He looked up
and saw three stout men standing over him.
" Corney Drake !" said one of them in tones
of rank astonishment. " Good God, is this
ou ?"
" Yes it is me," returned the young man,
rising to his feet, " and this—"
He stopped and turned pale with fear. The
idea came thundering upon him that he might
be thought the murderer. Ho read the convic
tion in the faces of the men who had found him
in his present situation.
" Ali, Corney, no wonder you hesitate. We
never could have believed this of you."
"Believed what ?" wildly exclaimed the
young man.
" Look at ails," slowly returned the other,
pointing to the body of the pedler.
" I see it. It is poor old Magduhl ; but I
(lid not murder him. I call on God to witness
that I had no hand in it."
• " Don't call on God with a lie in your mouth
Corney Drake. Look at your hands. Look at
your clothes. They're all bloody. And feel of
the corpse, too,—it's warm."
" I found it in the bog. I was coming home
from the other side, and I stumbled against it,
and I brought it up here. No hand of mine
harmed him."
" But the pack, Cornoy,—what were you do
ing with that ?"
"It was here just where I laid down the
body."
CHAPTER H.
MARY CARROL AND TIER VISITOR
INIMILI c 1105117,111-17111112.1111 1P(D1323113
Don't you lie to me, Caspar Bagroon !"
"It isn't a lie. Corney Drake has been sen
tenced this very afternoon, and next week he'll
be hung."
" No, no ! they shan't hang him !" cried the
half-frantic girl. " Corney never did that mur.
der. It wasn't in his heart."
" Peace, Mary. Young Drake can be noth
ing to you now."
" Yes, he can. Ho can be everything."
" But he shan't, though," uttered the dark
man, at the same time grasping hold of the ex
cited girl with a rough grip. " Now listen to
me, Mary Carrel. You've got to bo mine, and
mine you shall be in spite of all the powers of
heaven and earth. I've set my very soul on
possessing you, and I don't care if I lose that
soul in the getting of you !"
Bagroon looked pale and haggard—his black
eyes shot forth streams of fire—his teeth were
grating together, and his breath came hot and
quick. Poor Mary was frightened. She was a
stout-hearted and true-hearted girl, but she
knew that Caspar Bagroon was a fearful man,
and she knew that he would do anything to gain
his ends.
" Let go of mo !" -she shrieked. " Let go of
me, Caspar Bagroon. I can never be yours I
swear—"
" Hush, Mary Carrel," interrupted Bagroon,
in a hoarse whisper. "I am not a man to be
thwarted. I could tell you some things that
would open your eyes to your own fate."
" Ay, you could tell of dark deeds enough, I
ween. Ha, what's that ?"
Where ?" uttered Bagroon, with a quick
start
" There !" said Mary, laying her finger upon
a dark spot on his shirt-sleeve.
" It's nothing."
" It's blood, Caspar Bagroon. It's blood !"
"
You lie ! It isn't blood !"
The villain hurled Mary from him as he spoke,
and his face turned to a livid hue. He trem
bled at every joint, and his eyes glared wildly
upon the dark stain.
It isn't blood ! You lie, Mary Carrel ; there
is no blood on me !"
It seemed as though at that moment some
mighty power descended upon Mary Carrol, for
she grew suddenly calm, and with a steady gaze
she looked upon the man before her.
"It Zs blood," she slowly, firmly uttered,
" and you know it. There's blood upon your
hand, too.
" Where ?" gasped Bagroon, gazing quickly
at both his hands. " There is no blood there.
Out upon your trickery. My hands are clean."
" They are not clean," said Mary, sustained
by a strange power,• " nor can all the waters in
Lough Neagh make them so."
Caspar Bagroon foamed at the mouth, and in
a frenzy of mad wrath he sprang forward and
grasped the girl once more by the arm.
" Now hold that tongue of thine," he yelled.
'" I want no more of it. You aro mine, Mary
Carrol. Mine—mine! I have loved you as I
never loved a human being before, but by the
holy saints, you can turn that love to madness.
You may—"
At this moment Mary broke from his grasp
and leaped towards. the door. She sprang into
the garden, and just opening the gate when
Bagroon caught her by the shoulder and
dragged her back into the cottage.
" Don't you scream," he hisied, " for if you
do you'll never—"
The remainder of his sentence was spoken in
a 'silent language by the dimwing of a large
knife. At another time Mary might have been
frightened into implicit obedience, but now her
soul Was fired, her every nerve and muscle was
strung to its It tmnAt. and the heart of the daunt
less heroine struggled in her=bosom ; yet for an
instant, was she cool.
" 0, spare me !" she cried, and she sank upon
her knees.
The villain let go his hold upon her shoulder;
and looked down upon her in mocking
,triumph. Quick as thought the dauntless mai
den leaned forward and wound her arms about
his ankles, and with a sudden jerk she brought
his legs from under him. He fell upon the floor
like a leaden weight, his knife flew from his
grasp, and on the instant Mary once, more
sprang through the doorway. She did not stop
this time to open the gate, but with a single
bound she leaped over the low paling and
gained the street.
CHAPTER 111
TIM PRISON INTERVIEW
Mary Carrel gained the garden-gate of a
neighbor's house, and then she turned and look
ed towards her own cot. .She saw Caspar Ba
groon just stepping into the street, and she
could see through the dim twilight that his
hands were clenChed together, and she thought
slie heard bitter curses fall from his lips. He
came not aftorher, however, butwalked moodily
ofFin the opposite direction, and was soon lost
to sight in the gathering gloom.
The resolute girl stepped again into the street'
and hastily wended her way towards the jail.—
She asked to see Colney Drake, but the jailor
ALLENTOWN, PA., MA . k 16, 1855.
" You know I didn't, darling."
" Indeed I know it."
" Then there's some satisfaction in that." •
" But there'd be more satisfaction in finding
out who did do it," said • Mary.
" That's past hope," returned Corney.
" But don't you suspect any one ? Haven't
you the least idea of who did it ?" she eagerly
asked.
Not in the least. But why do you ask ?"
First tell me all the circumstances attend
ing your finding of the body."
Corney went on and told the circumstances
lust as they had transpired. Dow that he was
returning from the Londonderry side of the great
bog just at nightfall, and when ho had nearly
reached the 'Tyrone Side he saw a dark object
against the bushes near the solid path. He
went up to it and found that it was the Oaten
Life was extinct, but the body was warm, and
the blood was still flowing.' Under those 'cir
cumstances he took the body up and carried it
to the upland, whore, as the reader already
knoWs, ho came across the pack. The rest ho
told in a few words. Everything was against
him—the evidence, though circumstantial, was
yet almost positive, and it had taken but a few
minutes for the jury to bring in their verdict.
" Tell me," said Mary, as Corney closed his
story, "is there no ono whom you think might
have done this thing ? Do you know of any
one's having been in that vicinity on that
evening ?"
" No.—only the three men who found me." .
" Was not Caspar Bagroon there ?"
" Caspar Bag But tell me, Mary—what
do you mean ? My God ! I believe Caspar
dogged me there ! He has sworn to kill me.
lie may have laid in wait for mo, and the ap
pearance of the pedler, the apparently well filled
pack, and the loneliness of the hour and the
place, may have excited his cupidity. lie had
the heart capable of it—l know ho did. But
we can't prove anything."
Mary sat down upon the edge of the low cot,
and for some timesho remained in silent thought.
tier ibot played nervously upon the tiled floor,
her little utters passed to and fro around each
;other, and when she at length raised her head
all-traces of tears were gone, and her whole
of a resolute woman's unyielding will.
refused her. He said the young man was con
demned to die, and none but the priest could be
admitted to his cell. She begged and prayed,
but the jailor was inexorable. Ho told her,
however, that she might apply to the sheriff,
and that a pass from him would admit her.
With the fleetness of wind Mary darted off
for the house of the sheriff whom she had the
good fortune to find athome. She made known
her request, and he at first refused.
"0, I must see him," she cried. "He was
all the world to me. If he must die, 0, let me
see him."
" Not to•night," said the sheriff', but it was
spoken in a wavering bone.
Yes, yes,—for the love of God, sir, do !
To-morrow may be too late. Cornet' never
committed that murder ; I know ho did not. I
was his—his—l should have been his wife, sir,
had he lived ; and 0, who knows but he may
live yet. Do, do. 0, do; sir."
Mary Carrot stink upon her knees and clasped
her hands. Big tears rolled down her cheeks,
and as the stern officer gazed upon her thus he
could not find it in his heart to refuse her fur
ther. Ho wrote an order for her immediate
admittance to the jail, and when he handed it
to her said :
" There, go and see him ; but you must make
up your mind that this will be your last visit.
I shall feel miserable when I hang the, poor
youth, for I have always thciught him a noble—"
So he is. So he is. You shall not hang
him,—by heavens, you shall not! He never
did it—he never did it !"
The sheriff pitied the poor girl, for the thought
the thing had turned her brain. He knew not
that that brain was ten times more strong than
ever before.
Mary sought the jail once more, and she
found no difficulty in gaining admittance.
Cornelius Drake sat in his cell. lle w.as not
more than one-and-twenty—a noble looking
youth, with auburn hair and large blue eyes,
and a countenance full of goodness and truth.
His very appearance'gave the lie direct to the
idea that he could commit a deliberate murder,
and yet all knew that no ono could have killed
the pedler except in cool blood, for old Mag
duhl could have had no enemies.
Mary Carrot entered the cell. She stood an
instant upon the threshold, then sprang forward
and threw her arms about the young prisoner's
neck
" Mary, Mary," lie cried, " the holy saints
bless you for this. I can't embrace you, darl
ing, for see, my hands aro chained."
" Hush, Corney dear. I can embrace you,
and for eyen- that we may be thankful. They
told me you ware to be hung, but I swore that
you shouldn't."
" Ah, Mary my fate is sealed, and no earthly
power can help mo now."
" But you did not do that wicked murder,
Corney."
" Corney," she said, " I believe God some
times puts the truth into the heads of us poor
mortals when no earthly understanding could
beautiful countenance had settled into the mould
have caught it. To-night Caspar Bagroon was
in may cottage, and ho basely="
" Ha ! Did ho dare:--"
" Hush, Corney, - ho did not harm me. • I saw
blood upon his shirt-sleeve, and when I showed
it to him ho trembled and stammered and
broke from me. Then he seized me, but I
I leaped away, and he followed me. He caught
me and dragged me back, and he drew his knife.
The thought came upon me like a shaft of light
ning that Bagroon had murdered the pedler.
God must have given me the thought, for it
came like a perfect conviction. I got away from
him again and fled, and then I came here."
Mary Carrol arose from her seat and clasped
her hands firmly together.
" Corney," she continued, " if there's proof
of the real murderer on the face of the earth
I'll find it out. I will, or I'll die with you."
Corney Drake longed to clasp the.fair girl to
his swelling bosom, but he remembered his
bonds, and he could only thank her in words.
CHAPTER 1V
TUE KNIFE, AND A NEW ACCUSAL
When Mary entered her cottage it was quite
late. She feared not the return of Casper Ba
groon, for her heart had been made strong by
the strange conviction that some superhuman
power was aiding her, and she oven felt happy
in the assurance that she should succeed in her
efforts. She opened her tinder-box, and having
lighted a candle she lolted her door and win
dows, and was turning towards her bed-room
when her eye caught an object that lay upon
the floor at the further extremity of the apart
ment. Sho went to it and picked it up. It
was Bagroon's clasp knife !
In all probability the villain's fall had so
thumped his head that he entirely forgot the
knife he had dropped. Mary knew it, for Ellie
saw it when ho pulled it out that same evening,
and she had (glen seen it before, and, more than
all, she knew that half the people in the village
could swear'to its identity, for there was none
other like it, Caspar having made the handle
himself froin curiously carved bog-oak l . •
For full five minutes Mary stood and gazed
upon that knife. The blade was open, and she
thoughtfully ran her thumtv along its edge.
Then she closed it, and placing it carefully in
her bosom, she sought her Chamber. She laid
down upon her bed, but it was not to sleep, for
her mind was too busy, too active, too. much
aicited, for that. It could not be lulled into
forgetfulness, nor yet into dreams.. It dwelt in
the land of facts and cool calculations.
The next morning Mary was up before the
sun, and throwing on her bonnet and shawl,
she hastened off to the house of the sheriff.
(This sheriff acted both in the capacity of an
executive and a coroner.) Sho had to wai
sometime •for him to make his appearance, bu
he came at length
You hero again ?" he uttered, with a sleepy
" Yes, sir,—and I have important business
too. Were you not the coroner . whe examin
ed the body of old ➢fagduhl ?"
" Yes." The sheriff opened his eyes, and
began to wake up.
" Was the body opened ?"
" No,—of course not. The pedler was dead
—stabbed twice or three times—and we knew
who did it."
" You did not know who did it, Mr. Sheriff;
you did not know, I say, or you never would
have put an innocent man in jail and had him
convicted of the murder. Is the body buried ?"
" Yes,--over a week ago," returned the Rill
car, looking upon the girl in a state of utter as
tonishment.
" Then it must ho dug up, Dig, it up, sir,
and I'll prove to you that Carney Drake did
not do the bloody deed ! Will you do it, sir ?
Say, will you do it ?"
The sheriff began to be deeply interested in
the matter, for there was something more in the
manner of the girl than idle raving.
" Most assuredly," ho replied, " if you can
give me a good reason. Whom do you sus
)ect ?"
Ԥ If I tell you ho may escape."
" NO,— lie shall be arrested."
-" Then 'twas Caspar Bagroon."
The sheriff 's eyes snapped. •
" Can you prove it ?"
" Dig up the body and see. God will not
suffer the guilty to escape. Dig up the body
and let the doctor examine it."
"Caspar Bagroon is a dangerous fellow,"
uttered the officer, " and I think him just the
man to have dono such a deed. If I had reasons
I'd arrest him this very morning."
"You have, warns. I believe he did the
murder. I accuse Mm of it ! Is not that
enough 7"
" I'll arrest him, by the saints, I will. lle
needed it long ago."
" And you'll have the body dug up, too."
" Yes."
TRH NEM TRIAL.
People were surprised when Caspar Bagroon
was arrested for the murder of the pedler, but
no one was sorry. Public opinion turned like
a weather Cock ere yet the evidence had been
produced.
..
Tho body of the !miler was brought into the
court, and the doctor was there to examine the
wounds. ' Caspar Bagroon was there, and
though his bosom heaved, and his features were
contorted, by the fiercest passion, yet ho spoke
not a word. Ile turned his flashing eyes upon
Mary Carrel, and he grated his teeth together
like the stones of a mill. lie scorned to forget
that this was working against him.
The doctor began to probe the wounds. Tim
first went to the heart, but there ho found noth
ing. The second was further towards the cen
tre of the breast, and seemed to have been a
very slight one. The skin was cut away, and
in a few moments more the operator uttered a
slight exclamation.
" What is it ? What is it ?" quickly asked
Mary, springing forward.
" Wait a moment," returned the doctor ; and -
as ho spoke he produced a pair of forceps.
_ Ile applied them to the incision he had made,
and after two unsuccessful efforts he drew forth
a piece of metal which had been driven through
the tough cartilage between the left ribs and
the sternum, and which, upon examination,
proved to he the point of a knife !
" Ilere ! here !" cried Mary, at the same
time drawing a clasp-knife from her bosom..
" You all of you know to whom this belongs.
Try it, try it."
The people_crowded eagerly forward. Tho
sheriff took the knife and opened it. Tho point
of the blade was broken off: Ile took the piece
from the hands of the doctor and applied it to
the broken blade. It fitted—it was the missing .
piece !"
NUMBER 82
" Ha, hn, ha !" half wildly, half hysterically
laughed Mary Carrel. " That is Caspar Ba
groon's knife !"
You lie you she-devil !" roared the villain.
" No, she don't, Caspar," said Phil Kanaugh.
" Wo all know that knife."
" Ay," cried Mary, " and he 'drew it upon
me, too. Listen, hearts of Tyrone. That bad
man came to my house, and he insulted me.—
lle taunted mo because Carney Drake had been
convicted of murder. I tried to flee from him,
but ho caught me and drew that knife, and
swore he'd kill me if I screamed. I sank upon
my knees, and grasping him by the ankles, I
tripped him up and then fled. He dropped his
knife end forgot to pick it up, and When I re
turned I found it. I knew that ho had done
the murder, for I saw blood upon his shirt
sleeve-; hut when I saw that broken blade I
believed that God had provided a way for ma
to prove it. I have proved it. You all see it.
Bagroon is the real murderer, and Cornoy is.
free !"
Tho sheriffmay have tried to quell the noise,
but he certainly failed, for the enthusiasm of an
Irish crowd is not to bo hushed.
The new trial went summarily on. The
identity of the knife was proved at starting.—
Phil Kanaugh swore that he met Bagroon corn
ing from the bog a short time before he came
across Corney, but he thought nothing of it at
the time, nor had it occurred to him since. In
less than half an hour the word "guilty"'
sounded upon the cars of the villain.
" It's a lie ! a lie ! Curse yo all !" he yell
ed, and in a moment when he caught the chance,
he sprang towards Mary.
Ile did not reach her, however, for Phil
Kanaugh pushed forward his foot and tripped
him up. Bagroon was at full speed, and
when he•was thus thrown from his feet he fell
forward with a fearful impetus, and, his neck
struck the sharp edge of an oaken bench. An ,
instant be remained with his head lopping over
upon the scat, and then his body rolled over
upon the floor. There were two or three long
struggles- 7 a crimson stream started forth from
his mouth-land ho was no more ! The fall had'
broken his neck !. Ilis fair victim had es-.
coped him !
" God did that!" said Mary.
" God did it !" cried they all,
*
* • '.« «
Mary Carrol held tho order for Corney
Drake's release in her hand.• She rushed wild
ly to the jail, and an hundred Young men and
old followed her.
" Frea! free !" ' she cried, as sho fell upoit
her lover's bosom. "Corney, dear Corney,
yon aro free !"
The jailor came and knocked off the shackles
from the young man's feet and.hands, but' be
' fore he could gain sense enough to speak his
cell was filled with men. They caught him is
their arms and bore him to the street, where
• they placed him in a carriage they had dragged
from the sheriff's stable, and seating the heroic .
Mary by his side, they proceeded to the fair
girl's cottage. Shouts of joy rent the air, and
a hundred lips lileSsed the saved and tho
saviour.
Ere ninny weeks had passed away those peti
t, were shouting and singing again. Thiat
Inc there was a wedding, and Corner and
ary were the happy couple.
READ THIS, GlRLS.—Suppose iiyoung man of
good sense, and of couree good prospects, to
be looking for a wife—what chance have you
to be- chosen ? You may decoy him or trap
him, or catch him ; but how much-,better.
make it an object for him to catch you. Ren—
der yourself worthy of catching, and.you will
need no shrewd mother or managing brothers•
to help you to find a market.
[17." Jim, does your mother whip you?"
"No-o•o-o—but she does a precious sighs
worse,.though." .• What is, that ?." • ".Whyy
she washes mo every morning."
[a." Mother,", said an inquisitive urchin, a
few days since'. " would you have been any re
lation to mo, if fatittr hadn't married yont"
CIIAPTER V.