ji.IA c in the Borough of itllen vn ) nty, Pa., every Wednetang alines & Diefendeler, per annum,.payable in tArtr ind `not paid until the end .offfie *•— are - laiseol4lued„until all arrpta O:7'OFPICE in Iktnilton street, two doors we , of the German Reftlrined Church, directly oppo. site Moser's Drtig,.§tore. Is published Lehigh Q Af si 82 i No r7'Letters on business must be POST PAID otherwise they will not be attended to: JOB PRINI`ING. Having recently added a large assortment of fhshionable and most modern styles of type, we are prepared to execute, at short notice, all kinds of Book, Job and Fancy Printing. Singer's Sewing Machine DURING the last four years these machines have been fully tested in all kinds of ma ,- terials that can be sewed, and have rendered general satisfaction. Truly thousands of worth less Sewing Machines have been brought before the public, yet Singer's alone has merited and obtained a good reputation for its perfection and real worth. To a tailor or seamst.ss one of these Machines will bring a yearly in come of $750. The undersigned having.purchased of I. M. Singeak, Co. the sole and exclusive right to use and v to others to be used, the above named , Machines. in the following localities: The ' State of Wisconsin, the northern part of Indi ana, and Pennsylvania (with the exception of the counties of Erie, 'Allegheny, Philadelphia, and Northampton) and is now prepared to sell Machines as above mentioned. All orders for.the Machines will be punctual ly attended to. In all cases where a Machine is ordered, a good practical tailor and operator will accompany the same, to instruct the pur chaser how to use it. A bill of sale will be for— warded with each Machine. The price of the Machine, with printed or personal instructions is $125. For further information address B. RANDALL, Norristown Pa., 11—Gin August 1 Oiriolls 0 7 i' s ettr.5 FOR all thosbladies and gentlemen that had to work hard for their dollars and cents Through hay-making and harvest. Joseph Stopp has just returned from New York and Philadelphia, and he is now going to sell off his entire stock of &miner Goods at near half-price, so as to enable him to make room for a new winter stock. Stopp is determined to sell Parasols at half price ; Lawns worth 25 cents he sells at 12 ;• some worth 121 lie sells at 6; ,cents per yard; fine needle worked handker chiefs at frl, ; collars 4 cents ; calicoes worth 12 he sells at G, ; black Mits and a line lot of fans going oil' almost fur nothing. Mantillas at almost half price, also a line lot of silks and berege, a little too nice and cheap for cash.— 'Glorious news, good times for the people, .if they call at Joseph Slopp's Cheap Cash Store, No. 41, at the corner of Hamilton and Eighth streets, near Hagenbuch's Hotel, in Allentown. If you want Ready-made Clothing or the stuff to make them, Stopp sells almost for half price. Well I do declare that Stopp is just as contrary as Dick's hat band, for it goes twice round and ties no where, for every thing is high now and Stopp sells every thing very low, or cheaper than ever for Cash. Look out, gentlemen, if he ever fails, just say, I knew that for he sold too cheap ; then yen hit the nail right on the head. JOSEPH STOPP. • if—tf IZELEM SO ELT RUSSES, TRUSSES - - n- 1 4 C. 11. . 7 reeelles, Truss and Brace Establishment South 'West Cor. of Twelfth and Race Sts., PM LA DELPII lA. IMPORTER of fine Fimsc it Tarssus, combin ing ca firma liz4/Thic:w, ease and durability -with correct construction. Hernial or ruptured patients can lie stilled by remitting amounts, as belen' o--Sending nulu ber of inches round the hips, and slating side affected. Cost ofSinglc Truss. F:2 ; .$3, $4, 45. Double —ss, 86, $8 and 4410. Instructions as to wear, and how to etnet •cure, when possible, sent with the Truss. Also for sale, in great variety, „Dr. Banning's Improved Patent Doily Brace, For the cure of Prolapstis Uteri ; Spinal Props and Suppm Patent Shoulder Braces. Chest Expanders and Erector Braces, adapted to all with Stoop Shoulders and Weak Lungs Eng lish Elastic Abdonthial Belts, Suspensories, Syringes—male and female. IrtLadies' Rooms, with Lady attendants. August 1. IT—ly Allentown .Academy. THE Fall Term will begin on Monday, third . of September. I.N. Gregory, A. M., Principal. Mr. E. B. Hartshorn, Assistant. Miss Alice Moore, Preceptress. klias Lucy Moore, Assistant. • Miss Gibson, Teacher of the Primary Depart ments. 'Mrs. Gregory Teacher of Music. Tho teachers are able, faithful and persever ing,•and will earnestly exert themselves to se cure the improvement of their pupils.. .RATES OF TUITION PER TERM OF ELEVEN WEEKS. Common English Studies,, $4 00 and $4 nigher ff 5 00 " 5 50 with Classical, • and French, Music, Use of Piano for practice, Fuel for Winter, August 15. -..- ~,, . ' . x • . .. • \'' , • .. . 1 ' . .. •:-,', ' • \ O, ~, .t: .., „....,:„.. :•t• .GI . STE • ~_.• ~..:, , . • ,• . .:,.,, 4 .1, %k w, .., " first—Li .- • • - -.>,- ,-..i.- e Z 3•4 , -:.s •.-. . , . ; - • - -" . She ! , :t . . , . 1 - ri ..:- '• .: " i i„ ? .. , ..! ) love in -, '' not this • A! ~..,, , .k. _ ~ '',', ..ii A I: TIOPPC - ;.;!0.:,F. '''.:'-• .: -,- '''' ::, .:. . - . f.,' . 7';'• - • -:', ' ' ••s• . :* ' .' .4 ~., 2, ~,,..!?:. ",r:;.,_ •:‘,',..-.; ..; . r. ! ' .:: ,:.: ' 4 .;.., :: ' '.-% ~ - ) • • • . ..-x- ~,,,, , If • 1.....ri 1' r . : am . • , • ' - - - ---- - - ___.._______ • • -. •.- . ''t inkin • ~km 1 , ''''• will wal ,"777......t..-------. ____ zl, _ --.....--...._1_4 \TR a I ._ a 114 -- 1 - 0 - 1 - 11,11-- , -11 V/ 9 Inlh 31 1 1 [Pt 13 2at3 , 3 ' • . me l 3. " gratituf shall In , . . . ~ _ ing thrl . . ' - • -...._ , • ' • of her 1111:10 fa rural 110 aura lArturi .ggrirtilfurt (Rum - lion nturnfittl, Struttgrottitt,7l „am !a, r " un if l° h i e l. - , -, , , _ _ • _ VOLUME IX. OPERATIVE'S ,L.AIIIENT. The sun is up, the flowers awake, With tear-drops in their gentle eyes, Which soon the morning breeze will take, And waft them to the azure skies ; But nought will dry my tears away, Which gush from eyes of wearied head, And steal my life blood day by day ; Because l'm poor, and earn my bread ! How welcome is the morning voice, To those who are all free from care, It greets them with fresh hopes and joys— To me it brings but dark despair : The morn dotli break the happy spell, Which angels wave around my bed ; And soon will sing the factory bell, And I must go and earn my bread ! When through the trowded street Lstray, Where fashion moves in endless whirl, I often hear some voices say, " She's but a poor and working girl,"— Oh, God, is there in honest toil A shame, which marks a woman's head ! And do the hands receive a soil, Which labor hard to earn one's bread ! And when the evening's silent hour Bids friends to And loved ones seek their happy bower, No one will cast a thought on me : lly simple hoMe is never cheered, With love's or friendship's welcome tread, Because in wealth'l was not reared, And poverty must earn its broad And when my feeble health is gone, In working hard and working late, No sympathizing friendly tone Will bless me in my hapless state. ! when cold death shall come at last, (A thought which bath for me no dread) No tears, alas ! will trickle fast, Because in life I earned my bread ! One hope—one only hope is left [night, Which beams through life's unchanging And though of every joy bereft, This hope affords me some delight— The grave will break no happy spell ; No fever there shall rack my head! My cars shall hear no fhctory hell ; My hands no more shall earn my bread ! 51 situt storii TWICE LOVING. Wilton, dont you ever intend to get mar ried? I declare, I'm fmite in despair about you. Here you are, thirty-six-years old next February, and a confirmed old bachelor ! Why, you ought to have a wife, and two or three fine second ediiions by this time. Just think of all the trouble I've had about you. too ! Rides M. the country, and promenades in the city ; visits at !tonic, and parties abroad, all to no purpose. It provokes me to think of it. Once forall, Wilton Dughes, do you in tend to live and die an old bachelor ?' And the lady, still young'and blooming, put down, with an air of desperation. the jewel-case with which her titters had been playing. and con fronted the gentleman, who sat opposite her. Ile, too, laid down his paper, but with at air of languid ink which was particular ly irritating, for diuner , was just over, awl IVil ton ITughes always devoted the next half hou to politics and bank stocks. .11cally, Sara,' he replied, and his coolness was in strange contrast with his sister's vehe mence, g I cannot answer you. for, whether I shall depart from this life in a state of sidg/c or doiddc blessedness, is still an indefinite matter to myself. You shall be apprised of my deci sion, when I make it. Meanwhile. my dear sister, I recommend Vial: you give yourself no further uneasiness on the subject.' ' You are the most provoking being alive, Wilton,' 'ejaculated the offended lady, as she rose up. believe you are as heartless ns you aro sarcastic, and I shall never put ano ther woman in danger of breaking her heart ftir you.' And the rustle of Mrs. ill's brown silk was an emphatic peroration of her anger, as she swept indignantly from the apartment. Wilton llnghes leaned back in his chair, and half closed his eyes. Now he sits there all alone, his face brought into fine relief by the dark velvet cushioning, we will look at it ; for his countenance is something more than book with a date.' It is not a handsome face; and yet it will win upon you strangely. The features are too long andthin for masculine beauty ; the fore head is broad and high, with thick masses of hair about it ; the lips are thin, and in repose stern and grave ; but you should, see them when they are in the light of one of his smiles. 'Thirty-six next February !' his Sister said.— You would never believe he was more than twenty-eight, looking into his face. But as the man sits there, his thoughts wan der off on a long journey. It niay be his sis ter's words, it may be the dim quiet of the rbOin—have started theta on a path which reaches away over the grave -yards . of many 0 00 750 8 00 2 00 50 11-tf ii tlr ii I DT C. L. LOCII3LIN ALLENTOWN, PA., SEPTEMBER 5, 1855. dead andburied years, to a far country—the land of his youth. IL is an old red farm-1104e that he secs now ; the sloping roof is covered Al ail moss, and in the spring the 'weeds take root among the caves, and make a long green fringe on the edge of the house. He has not seen the old home since that night when be learned look ! how the cold, proud man's mouth quiv ers, and his fingers clutch the paper, for that night has come out to meet him. It was ` laid away, and locked up,' he thought, Where it would never find a path into the present ; but now, as some old ft lend— over whose death we have Wept and prayed—comes back and takes our hand, and the seat by our side, and looks into our eyes with the old smile, and whispers. It was all false ! I was not dead !' so this night came back like a living presence, and took its seat by Wilton Hughes. lie saw her again the only woman who had ever troubled the deeps of his soul - , as he saw her then, widi her shining golden hair, and her hazel eyes, as sweet a picture as ever the heart of man framed and housed up in the past. They had just returned from a long ride in the country, and they stood by the gale. He had assisted her to alight, and he still retained her little lingers in his own. A young moon was mounting over the forest, and the light lay soft and Lad in the hollows, and along the road' side. ‘vas only nineteen then, and it was the tenth of July! Ilis heart would keep those two dates, till it took up the last one—Eler ioii'y! lie remembered how, 'standing there, lie leaned down to . her, and, putting away the cluster of curls under lrer bonnet,, said, I shall not be here again, till . the hollows are as full of snow as they are now of moon-light. May God take care of my darling, and oh ! you will be true to me, mg Mary!' She looked up to hint, her dear eyes shining fondly through her tears. ' IN'ilton'—how the memory of her voice thrilled his heart still— ' Wilton. you may trust me !' and it was not the words, so much as the look, which filled his soul with such trust, that if an angel had spoken from heaven, he would have believed no inure fully. He remembered the last kiss, and that his eyes were dim as ho sprang into the carriage. It was the last time he ever saw Mary, or the red house, with the weeds grop-- Mg on its edge. Ile had never blamed her—not even when the blind darkness of that ireat sorrow settled upon the morning of his life—when he learned that she was another's, and his heart grew dead within hint. Ile knew sip: was true, and that was a great blessing ; her frienfls had deceived her, andshe had gone to the altar, believing that Wilton was false to her. . Marys family was a poor and a proud one so tt•as Wilton's. 'When the rich man came and laid his wealth and social elevation at the feet of the country girl, her parents looked oil' on the little yellow collage, which was Wilton's home, and said, Our child shall be the wife of the rich man !' But Mary was true ; God bless her ! and there was a long web of deceit and falsehood woven about her heart,, beibre she yielded to their en treaties. Ile learned it all too late ! And then Wilton Hughes went out into the world, and did gum' battle with it. Ile educa ted himself ; he elevated his Tamil); ; and at thirty -live lie was a rich man. Ile had but two.sisters, and when his pa rents died, they came to the city, and married rich men. Proud, fashionable, elegant women they were, admiring their brother, because• the world did so, and yet dreaming little of the spring of poetry, whose clear waters gushed thrOugh and kept green the heart, so hidden from them. They called him old, notional, fas tidious, and could not understand why he was so indifferent to women, with whom his grace ful, half-indolent manners made him un espe cial favorite. Wilton Hughes liVed with his sister, Mrs. Hills. She was the younger, and perhaps he loved her the better, of the two. But there was no sympathy between them. He was a mystery, and a very provoking one, sometimes, to her, and she was to him like a book' which one admires for the chiborate binding and gild ed edges, but knows there is little inside, after all. • And so Wilton Hughes sat there alone, in his sister's drawing-rootn, that winter after noon, and the old years came up softly, and sang a sweet song to him, a song of youth and love, and hope, and he found, after all, that the past still kept some pearls with which to dow er the present. It was quite late when he came back again to the paper and • the arm-chair, and he smiled a sweet, half mournful smile to himself, as he looked at bis watch, and murmured. What a time -stealer these 'reveries arc ! I guess I'll.finish up these letters, and not go out till after supper.' It was a TAW winter night. Wilton Hughes stepped back for his umbrella, for he knew, as the wind met his face, it was getting ready to snow.' When he returned, he found a young girl try.: ing to close the door, in the teeth of the wind, and looking ruefully out into the thick dark ness. She was slender, and had pale, delicate features; that was all he could make out by the gas-light opposite, but her youth and tim idity appealed to his heart at once. Besides, it was not a night on which a young and unpro tected girl should be out alone. Mrs. Hills is not in this evening,' he said to the girl, supposing, she had come there on some errand to his sister. Have you seen the housekeeper ? She should not allow you to re turn alone.' ' I have been sewing for Mrs. Hills today, sir,' answered the girl ; and somehow, her soft sweet voice thrilled the heart that was yet quivering to the old memory tune. •It took me longer to finish the work than I thought it would ; but I had no idea it was so dark.'— And she shuddered, as she looked down the street. Perhaps our paths lie in the same direction ; is not safe for you to go alone. lam Mrs. lills' brother ; will you allow me to accompany .ou ?' asked the gentleman. She turned, and looked earnestly at him for a moment. It was a very fair, almost childish facz, - ,. that. Owe] "" Mraw bonnet. Yes, sir,' answered the girl, eagerly. • 1 shall be very grateful for your company, for I am a sad coward.' They had proceeded but a short distance, when the wind sprang up fiercer and stronger than ever; whirling up the yesterday's snow, and shouting along the street. Wilton's companion stopped suddenly, and gaSped, 'Oh ! I cannot go any farther. The wind takes away my breath. It always does.' Don't be afraid, 'my child. I shall take care of you. Hold your shawl before your face, and keep fast to me. There it's going down. We will proceed now. What should I have done if it had not been for you ! I should never have reached my home ; never in the world.' And as the girl spoke, the gentleman heard the throbbing of the little coward heart against his arm. You should never venture out alone again, on such a night,' replied Wilton. ' Have you no friend to conic for you ?' No, sir,' she answered. mournfully ; my mother died two years ago.. She was the onlyl relation I had on earth.' ' Poor child !' Involuntarily the gentle man's hand closed over that which lay on, his arm ; for helplessness made her seem to him like a child. .zlnd with whom do you live now ?' With a Mrs. Mason, who was a friend of my mother's, after we came from England. We went there when I was a little girl, and papa lost his property, and died there. I was only twelve, when we came back. It was four years ago. Mamma lived two of these, and I was taking drawing lessons, and expecting to teach, when she was taken ill. After she died. Hived a year with Mrs. Mason, and then the money we brought from England was all gone. I learned to do plain sewing of Mrs. Mason's niece. I am hoping some time to lay by money enough to take drawing lessons again. This simple epitome of the past was mur mured among the tied pauses, in a low, sweet voice, that seemed to Wilton Hughes like mu sic he had heard long ago. May f inquire your mother's name ?' Mary Willis Arnold.' Wilton stood still. It was the one name burned into his soul. Just then the wind beat up hoarser. madder than before. lie did not bear it, fir the louder wind that was dri through his heart. EOM The girl clung to him and shivered. It' was lie first 'thing that aroused Don't be fi ighiened,' he . said, soothingly; we Are almost home. I think, from your description, your mother and "I were old ne. quaint ances.' They were walking on again. She looked up n unspeakable surprise. If you tell we your thine ?' Wilton Hughes. Did your• mother ever speak of it ?' • Oh, yes ! I am so glad ! how very strange ! She left a letter for you the very day she died, and told me to be sure and keep it till I found you. here we are at home! You will come in, Mr. Ilughes, and get the letter ?' lie did not answer her, but lie followed the light footsteps into the small brown house. The girl entered the parlor. It was • plainly, but decently furnished. An old, but very pleasant • looking woman, sat by the small cylinder stove; and a lamp was burniiig oh the . table. Lena, I hai.e been so worried about you,' said the old woman, and then stopped sudden ly, on seeing a stranger. It is mother's o d friend, Mr. Hughes.— You remember, Mrs. Mason,' said Lena, as she ushered the gentleman into the parlor. Mrs. Mason received him with rapturous expressions of delight ; but as Lena threw olf her bonnet, and came into the light, he could only think of her. The large hazel brown eyes, the fair, pure features were so like those his early manhood had loved, that he longed to draw the sets lug girl to his heart, and rain down kisses upon them. Lena's father had be queathed her hair and lashes their thick dark ness, and given the proud cm ve to her lips in their repose ; but in all else she was like her mother. Wilton's eyes followed the girl as she eft the room, and he vainly tried to answer Mason's inquiries with anything but monos abler. In a moment Lena returned, and laid the letter in his hand. How it shook as lie open ed it ! There were but a few words, traced, evidently, by a faltering hand. So ran the MEI My BELOVED WILTON.-I am dying to-day, and few must be the words I can say to you.— Ten years ago, holding my father's dying ban in mine. I learned all. We were both the vic thus. Thank God, your heart was as true a. my ow a.' 'Wilton, my child is fatherless an motherless, and I have none with whom t leave her. I give her t I you, though I knot not where you arc, whether married or single, for I have never beard of _ you . smec•— " I can hardly see the lines, and I know the darkness that is coming over them is ( To-morrow I shall be at home, and n thi s conies c r j-.w,,0u will take rZit of Lena, for the sv kot of RY. Wilton read this letter through, and then the proud man lea his arms on the table, and burying his head there, sobbed like a very child, unmindful of his tearful listeners. I cannot tell all which took place that even ing- in Mrs. Mason's little parlor ; but when 'Wilton Hughes had risen to leave, he put aside Lena's thick curls, and looking in her face, said very tenderly. 'My child never go out to another day's sewing. Your mother has given you to me.— I will take good care of you.' month had passed. What is the reason that Wilton never stays at home now•a.days ?' said Mrs. Hills to her dull, but very stately husband, on one of those infrequent evenings which they were passing alone together. He used to be away quite too much, I thought, but now we never get glimpse of him till eleven. Do, Chat les, hand me that magazine.' Perhaps he's out courting ; eh, Sara ?' suggested the gentleman, as he passed. the pamphlet to his wife. Nonsense ; it's nothing of that kind, re plied the lady, quickly, for she had no great confidence in her husband's discriminating faculties. ` I'd give him a lecture fur leaving me so ; but, then, what good would it do ?' If Mrs. Hills could have known the new life which the heart of her brother had been living for that last month, and if she could have looked into Mrs. Mason's little parlor that evening, it would greatly. have modified her re tnat•ks. Wilton Hughes had passed his evenings with Lena Arnold, and his soul had drunken again of the golden goblet of its youth. Lena was so child-like, so unafiected, that it was a joy to the World-Weary man to be with her. He might have been married years before : but his sisters' finesse and frivolity had sicken ed his heart of their sex ; and then they would never leave him alone, but were always trying to paint off some woman upon him as false and vain as themselves. • But, Lena! Lena ! She had taken him back to the-golden dream of his youth, and he sat watching her to-night, as she stood by the •tabirAvr graceful hetraleantog over the di:aw ing he had brought her, her dark eyes beaming bright through their long, heavy lashes. Lena,' lie said, at last, Will you come and sit down by me, for I have something to say to you ?' She came, with a smile half-curious, half con fiding, for Lena had leamecl to know Wil on very well during that month. Lena, be said; stroking the little hand be had taken in his, and looking into het. clear eyes, ' do you love mo any ?' Love you any ?' answered the girl, with that frankness which contact with the world had never taught her to conceal ; be sure I do. Were you not my mother's best friend, and are you not my own now ? Oh ! I love you better than any one in the world, mr. , Hughes !' \Vcll enough to be my wife, Lena?' She sprang up in her wild astonishment and her cheeks were inearnadined with blushes. I •our wife 1 . You do not mextritrAli.. ughes !' • He put his arm around her Yes, Wenn, I should not jest on such a sub ject. Twenty years lie between us, and my hair . may be growing .grey, while your cheek still keeps the bleoui of its youth. Shall you NUMBER 48 . . .. - plain sewing for you a few 'clays ? She is to ho my wife ' Wilton ITuglws !' shrieked both the horti lied l idics ; will you so disgrace yourself and your family ? We will never, never receive her—never speak to her. Martha! Sara ! Be still !' The tones were So stern and commanding, that even the proud women yielded to them. Listen to me ;' and Wilton sat down, and told the sisters the story of his youth—of his love for Mary Willis: and of the lie that had made her another's, and how his heart had holden that one memory in silence, and tendernes, for so many years. Then he told them of the winter night, and his meeting with 6 n • child , and thus he con cluded : Whether you receive or reject my wife, is it mater perfectly optional with yourselves ; but, reme4Ler, site i., never to be insulted in my Presenc%,' And he left them. Iten'k words had reached the woman's hearts of his::isters. 'Elere was notnothing of truth and heat. , y in this deep. long-emit:lin love, which . spolct. to their souls through all the pride and fake .t,htkoc which had overgroa them. Mary 'Willis had bect.,the;r play mite in the days they had since bluslie4 to remember, and her sweet face came back to. s tlum once more, and in that better moment theYkaid There' is no use in timling fato„ with him, and, after all, his love has been very beautiful. She will be his wife, add lie will r.....eive her as such. And they did not alter their determination, when Wilton brought Lena to them ; and they looked upon her;'gracefill and vine -like, in all leir rare bridal beauty ; for sfe was happy as ew wives are in the hushand.who had first oved her !nether. The following vent• popular cockney ballad, lately imported from London, is at present all the rage in New York and Vhiladelphia i and was song with great applause last week at Rivers & Derious' Circus by Don Gardner, to whom we are indebted for the words Tisofa rich merchant who in London did dwell; Ic had but one daughter, an 1 111COM111011 nice gal; Tei• name was Dinah. scarce si: , :teen years old, Vith a wcry wcry large fortune in silver and golc% ' [With a " Tot la ri la rol" chorus at tho end of cact i versed is Dinah vas valking in the garden one day, . Icr pappa lie came to her, and thus he did say ; • CO, dress yourself', Dinah. in gorgeous array, take your el' a husband both gallant and ' . • gay !" " nh papa, oh papa, I've not made up my mind, And to marry just yet, why, I don't feel in clined ; To you my large fortune I'll gladly give o'er, If you'll let me live single a year or .two more." Go. go, boldest daughter, the parent replied, " If you won't consent to be this young - man's bride, . I'll give your large fortune to the nearest of kin, And you shan't reap the benefit of ono, single pin." As ViHiking vas walking in the garden around, Ile spied his dear l)inah lying dead on the *round, With a cup of cold pison laying down by her side, • And a billet-dux a stating 'twas by pison she died. He kissed her 'cold corpus a thousand times o'er, And called her his Dinah, though she was na Then Then swallowed the bottle and sung a short stave,' , And `rill i ins and his Dinah lie both In one gravo. ne less because I loved your !no )ecause I shall be old before you Len. drew up close to him. No, no. I w inking of that ; only I am so different ; so little, and I am so unfitted to be you: .in no hurry, Lena. You are I'ght in lig, yourself too young to marry now. I tit for you three years. I will not,tram lpr girl-life with any engagement which nib might induce you to make me. You ie free, and you shall pass the interven- Te years at one of the best schools in the' pride of Lena's father, and the delicacy mother, rose in her answer. But to be so dependent betbre lam mat ! Forl„*.vo me ! but I cannot bear the thouslit of it, ' I hare looked out for all that, my Lena'.—• The gentleman at whose school r would place' you, desires. an nssisi-nt in thawing. In two' months you can be this, and you-Self dell•ay . your expenses.' • flow can I thank you ?' said Lena, w Ali a burst of happy tears. • How I will study, so you shall not be ashamed of me when I am—' She shall not 1 1 -ash the sentence; but before she burial her be :ling face on his shoulder, there had beamed a glance thro' her swimming eyes which told Wilton Hughes that she loved him. Three years had passed. 'Wilton had justre turnea with Mr. and Mrs. hills from their att nual visit to Saratoga. Martha, his older sister r IVillans and Ells Dinah.
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