ADVERTIBING RATER. 0.0 squaro. . 1 T.45 ; ' . 1 41 7: 6 11 ° .g8 - I,a, Two Squat.. . . 3.00 :LCD 5,50 111.00 10.00 Throe Bquareo &CO 5.00 KM 15.00 31.03 Dix Somme, . . . 8.00 1200 21.00 3100 Quarter Column. . 10.00 30.00 81.00 bO,W tllielfatigulap Proteasional Cards 81.00 per line per year. Administrator's and Auditor'. Notices, WM. • CikyietekiPerllao Int ( lasertion;lsslt. per I in.et=terioi. Ten lines agate constitute a square. WILLS & IREDELL, ALLENTOWN, PA gEti *NI FEY On KIT CARSpN'S' LAgT" TRAIL IIY LEON LEWIS, 4 uthor of " The Wagon Train,"" The Witch Find- The Tratir Wolf," de., et e. CHAPTER I. A MEE GLORIOUSLY STARED I Towards the close of a beautiful day in June, 1807, a myn FFyyd 4 goumq, mouttted (upol fleet horses, Cartrolgairoping over oheirif the great plains of the West, and drew rein in the shade of a clump of cotton-woods upon the bank of a beautiful. river. They had ridden far and rapidly: Their steeds were panting, and covered with sweat and foam. "We must give the horses a breathing spell," said the former slipping to the ground ; and MB companion nodded a graceful assent, as she followed his example. The couple were evidently father and daughter. ' , ' i• .! ! • The man was in the prime of life, hale and hearty, with a large frame, which was sinewy and athletic, without ceasing to be refined and: prepossessing. He had the keen, - shrewd look' peculiar to the advance-guards of civilizatiofi, and there was an honest, fritik expression on his sun-browned face that proclaimed his in tegrity and courage. In her way, his daughter was equally pic turesque and, attractive. In the early flush of womanhood, with a pure, sweet, and tender face, with eyes darkly glowing, with coral-tinted lips,. and cheeks softly flushed with the,hue of ie rose, with amber curls floating behind her, she was as graceful as a gazelle, as light-hearted as a bird, as lovely as a flower, and as spirited as an un tamed antelope. The stream by which the couple had halted was Wood river, a branch of the Platte, In Ne braska, at a point fifty miles northwest of Fort lawny. " Are you tired, Miriam ?" asked the hunter, George Dane, with fatherly solicitude. " Tired, father?" rejoined the maiden, with n happy laugh. "Oh, no. How could I be tired after a day like this ? Every minute has been filled iVith' Pleasure - and excitement. I feel as fresh as yonder bird." The father smiled understandingly, with a look full of the fondest affection. " I can guess the cause of your lightness of heart," said he, smilingly. " The return, now daily expectedf ea certain Hubert:Earle, from the mines of Idaho, may account, " I suspect, for your present-gitaliriSs." - . - . heightened color appeared on Miriam's fact, for the name mentioned was that of-her lover. She ansWeredthe glances of her father, however, with a frankness that attested his en tire sympathy with her, and said : "True, father, my heart Ims been unusually light for several days inst. How could it be otherwise, since I know that Hubert is com ing?" Mr. Dane did not reply. lie was looking, with kindling eyes,'over the fair flower-dotted plain ; and his next remark showed how wide ly his thoughts had strayed. ' "I wonder what mother has been doing without us all day, Miriam. She must be lonely, with no one to speak to or share her meals. I shouldn't wonder if we could see• our home from this point," and his face lighted up with a soulful glow. "Our cottage is not more than seven miles distant ;_let.me see_?" He drew from his coat a pocket-glass, ad justed it to his sight, pointing it in a northerly direction, and gazed through it and earn estly, towards his ranche upon Carrey's Fork. " Yes, I see it," he said, at last, with a long, deep, and joyful inspiration, as if the sight re freshed him in every nerve. " There is our cottage, as folain as day. I can, even see the vines you planted befOre the windows, Miriam. And there, on the grape-vine bench, under the big elm, sits 'your mother, busy at her sewing. Bless her !" She does not imagine we are looking at her. Look, Miriam." He yielded the instrument to his daughter, who obeyed his injection, her lovely face glowing withi sntiles as she regardedjhe dis tant home icene.• ! • ! " Dear mother !" she murmured. "Itis a treat to her to be able to all out under the trees without fear of molestation. There arc no hostile• Indians hereabouts now—are there, father ?" " No. Red Knife, as _you have already heard; wits killed yesterday by a settler, and his band has retreated towards the mountains. I will confess, Miriam, that during all the time we have been in the West, I have not felt so light-hearted and care-free as since we received news of Red Knife's death. You have just seen how this joy bubbles over in me. lied Knife was a demon, rather than a savage." Miriam shuddered, and her features even paled at the memory of the Indian mentioned. ' He never spared a pale face," she said, striving to speak calmly. '.' Desolation and cruelty marked his path. For more than three years he has raged to and fro upon the plains like a ravening wolf. Hewes the terror of the border." " You have named him apropriately,lll. riam," said the hunter. " lire had a fiendish hatred of the white'race, and his victims have been many." Mr. Dane held out his hand for the glass, and Miriam was in the act of restoring it, when a strange, gasping, panting sound star tled them both, and sent them quickly to their saddles. The hunter wheeled his horse and looked down upon the river-bank; froth which 7diiec: tion' the sound had come,iiia manner self-pos sessed, but his countenance indicative of al arm. The maiden followed his example. • . - • Iler eyes were the first to discover the cause of the sound that had startled them, detecting a man's figure creeping along through the un dergrowth of.buslies lining the shore. At the same moment, their presence in turn was detected, for the man dropped suddenly among the protecting bushes, as if he had been shot. "An Indian V' whispered 3liriam, drawing from her bosom a revolver. The hunter shook his head, continuing to watch the spot at which the man had fallen, his hand on his rifle; Ida manner that of one ready for action. Suddenly, as the man shelved a luiggard face • peeillig cautiously from his concealment, Mr. Dane's anxious countenance broke into' a smile, and ho cried out " Hallo ! Is that you Thompson ? Do you take us for Indians, that yotfskelk thert in the bushes ?" ' • The individual addressed was • silent a full minute,, as it seemed, from sheer amazement; then he sprang out front-his hiding-place with a cry of relief, and advanced swiftly towards ' the father and daughter. Ile was a man of middle age; of the ordina ry type of backwoodsmen,: strong and brown and stalwatt, cif thd rude, rough type that seems to belong , to the border. ,Ills face was hag gard and whits, although coveredwitiaperspi, ration. . Ills breath came ilitough hid parted lips in quick, uneven gasps. He had run far and swiftly, and looked as if about to drop from fatigue. " What has happened, Thompton ?" asked Dane, with keen anxiety, the man's singular appearance giving him a sudden shock of alarm. - "The Indians 1" gimped Thompson; scarcely able to command Lie voice. "They are com ing 1 lied Knife'and his •band-;-divided--my wife—my children 1 Help me I Help me I" " What talk is this ?" cried Dane, agitated in spite of his'efforts at self-control. Red Knife was billedyesterday—'i • • "Ho was only wounded," interrupted Thompson. "He is coming to take his ven geance on us settlers:. Ile has divided his band into two. They -were up at the. Deer Fork this morning, and are now coming this way.. The pet ate to be struck aro your house and mine." " My God 1" ejaculated Dane, as his inform ant paused in his excited, breathless narration. " A horse 1 a horse !" cried Thompson, 'reel ing with fatigue. "I can go no further on foot. •My wife, my children—God pity ,and save them l" He looked from the hunter to his daughter .in agonized and mute supplication.. • r Dane snatched • the glass' from Miriam's dr hands and placed it to his eyes. He looked to the northward—saw his pretty cottage, his wife busy at her needle under the tree,a—and glanced at the dint line of the hori zon stretching away eastward and weaward from his home. . . , . ri •- - i'' t li ! illiV f: ~ ~C . i.- , • + ~. -11 . .. * . ..'" I C , % • I . , . , . . - . . IFICI/ thigb 4 tcji . CEIE VOL. XXIII •• Suddenly the glass dropped froralds hands —his face blanched to the hue ofsnow. From the west, seeming to emerge from the clouds of scarlet and gold, he had beheld a band of mounted Indians riding boldly towards that unprotected home, towards that unconscious and helpless woman. With a frenzied cry, he put spurs to his horse, and dashed away like a madman, shout ing to his daughter to follow him ; at the same instant Thompson staggered forward and fell in the maiden's path, holding up his hands in anguish. "My wife ! my children I" he groaned. There was no hesitation in the soul of the brave Miriam. ":Mine is but a single life ; he has seven de pending on him," she said, aloud: As she spoke, she leaped from her saddle, and, with a gesture, commanded him to take her place. " But—your danger !" faltered Thompson, " The Indians—" • Miriam again painted to the saddle. "Go," she commanded. "Think only of your family, and be gone !" Still Thompson hesitated, sweeping the ho- rizon with eager glances, to assure himself that no immediate danger threatened. A change came over his face as he looked, and he uttered a wild cry, catching up the glass Mr. Dane had let fall, and looking through it. The sight ho beheld convulsed him with terror. Not a mile away, to the west, lie saw corn ing over a ridge in the plain, and approaching rapidly, a considerable body of mounted sav ages. " They're coming—a band of red-skins—. directly t4i*ii:rds 'us hegated. " rnilcoikt FIV, Warn; while you'have time !" The maiden took the glass and gazed through it an instant at the 'approaching foe. A strange-light appeared in her eyes—a light possessed only by _those upon whom Goo has bestowed a consciousness of His great protec tion—the light of n heroism which death itself cannot toaster. " Sure though," she' murmured. "They are coming ! The leader is Red Knife. Go, neighbor Thompson—on the instant !". " We can ride together !" cried Thompson. "No ! The horse is tired. We have been to Willow Island. We should be overtaken before we had gone two miles !" " Then we'll die together I" "NoI no I You must mount I" With a grasp so sudden and firm that it star tled him, the maiden pushed him towards the horse, and in another instant he found him self, more by an instinct than by thought, seated in the saddle. " Away, Selim !" cried Miriam to her steed, with an imperative gesture. "Away I" The horse broke furiously over the plain, giving Thompson only time enough to flash a look of gratitude towards the maiden, as he dashed away to the northeast, towards his menaced home. . A moment later, Mr. Dane looked over his shoulder—took in at a glance the situation of affairs, recoetizing the peril' as well as the heroism of his child—bowed his head solemn ly, as one submits to the inevitable, in appro bation of her conduct, and then he swept on to the rescue of his wife, his soul torn by such emotions as are seldom Drought to battle to gether. And Miriam, throwing herself flat upon the grotind, remained alone upon the plain, in the very path of a score of mounted Indians, who were galloping towards her with the swiftness CHAPTER II A CURIOUS AND STARTLINU MYSTERY Skirting the Black Hills, forty miles west of Fort Laramie, a party of horsemen were rid• mg eastward. They had left Fort Bridger eight days be fore, taking the route of the North Platte, and were now following the Oregon emigrant road, among those long ridges, dry beds of rivers, and sterile plains by which the region of the Black Hills is distinguished. The bulk of the party consisted of ten Cav alrymen, under a lieutenant, who were re turning to Fort Laramie, their post of duty. They were well mounted, and had several led horses in their train, loaded with their provi • sions;and aPiturteminees of travel. The balance of the party comprised three civilians, who had seized the opportunity of crossing the mountains under milataTy escort. Two or these were emigrants who had settled near Fort Bridger, but who had tired of the great solitude, or been frightened by the In dians, and were returning eastward in search of homes nearer the haunts of civilization. The third civilian was Hubert Earle, the lover of Miriam Dane, the settler's 'daughter, whom we have just left in such deadly peril. Ile was a splendid specimen of American manhood, magnificently formed, broad-shoul dered, deep-chested, as vigorous as an athlete, and rode his horse, a fiery Mexican steed, with the grace and ease of a Centaur. At the moment of his introduction to the reader, he was riding in the rear of the little train, busy with his own reflections, which were evidently as bright as the morning itself —the forenoon preceding the events we have recorded. ' ~ . , His thoughts were wrapt in the sweet memo ry of Miriam, who had wept so bitterly at his departure, and who, he expected, would smile so joyously at his return. ,` The dear little soul I" he murmured aloud. "Where is she nowt" ,-• His eyes darkened with tender sweetness, his lips quivered with the ineffable love that flooded his being whit' a happiness akin to pain. He pictured their meeting, the pretty home they would • share together, the years they would spend In each other's society, the tender mutual love and care that would bless all their coming days. He had left her a pbor adventurer, to seek his fortune among the' mines of Idaho, lie was returning to her a more than moder ately rich man, with bills of exchange In his chamois money-belt of sufficient value to sup port them both in luxury as long as they might live. It was not to be wondered at that his thoughts were pleasant. , Suddenly he was aroused from his trance like silence, by cries of delight from his com panions, and by the fact that they had checked -their speed. Looking around him quickly, he beheld, the 'cause of the unusual excitement. To the south.: ward, at no great distance, a small herd of buffaloes was grazing lazily, seemingly not at all alarmed by the near presence of a formida ble enemy. The wind was blowing from them,.the hor ses were fresh, and as he looked at the tempt lag game, Hubert felt the spirit of the hunter grow strong within him. Giving rein to bls horse, he galloped along the line to speak to the lieutenant, but was met half way by that, officer, whoop, sparkling eyes and eager demeanor attested to a kind ling of NimrodlLke zeal. , , " What do you say to . an hour's sport, Mr. Earle 1" shouted the lieutenant, as he bore down upon his friend, for Hubert mast betid ed favorite with every member of the party. " I think it would be a downright shame to turn our Pite,ke on such splendid game,".waa the quick response. "Who could eat a din ner of salt pork, with those fat buffaloes so near us ?". . , The lieutenant smiled, glanct , d Owl down the line; rending eager longing in the face of his men, and resolved to carry out his own and the general dEsint. ' • At a word of command from him, the party set out at a quick gallop for the scene of action. The buffaloes allowed the enemy to approach quite near, the wind favoring the hunters ; but at length began to snuff the air uneasily, to shake their heads; and to look for the cause. of their apprehensions. A moment later they had beheld the enemy, and, with frightful bellowings and mighty tramp, had begun their wild, mad flight to dui southward. •r - • - • , The chase was a long ono ; 'and it was not till the hunters had run the buffaloes upon a spur of the Black Bills that they. got a good chance at them. They then brought down several plump young buffaloes, and dinner speedily became the watchword.. . s • "It is noon, and we'll have dinner," said the lieutenant, observing that the baggagean iruals with their drivers were approaching, " Kindle a fire; boys, and we'll have steaks and roasts In abundance." • While this order was being carried into er: feet, Hubert and several others were engaged in surveying the scene. ALLENTOWN, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, MARCH 31, -1869 "A. lonely and desolate spot,'! said Hubert, thoughtfully. "It looks•ao if a Man had nev- er before visited it." "And no wonder," returm•d Brydges, "since it's five miles off the route. 'What could any man want here, unless he might be in pursuit of buffaloes?" There being , no answer to thislidestion, Hu bert procebded to find an uxccllent grazing spot forhis horse, tethered him, and flung him self on the ground In the shadow of the hill. The lieutenant and a portion of the men fol lowed his example. Plenty of low bushes were found dry enough to burn, and several fires were soon kindled. The choicest portions of the buffaloes were readily prepared for cooking, and it was not long before the odor of burning flesh was dif fused on the air ; four or tire hungry soldiers serving as cooks. It was a wild picnic scene nn these lonely wilds, and every man there enjoyed it with true gipsy zest. Suddenly a shout from one of the men who were strolling around, arrested the attention of the others . - "Hallo, boys !" he cried. "Pm blest if here isn't.a cave in the hill ! Conte, see the hole under these. hushes anything hidden neater in your lives." "Jones thinks nobody ever saw u cave be fore," said one of the loungers. " For my part, I think more of something to eat, than a of a hole in the ground." This sentiment was echoed by the others, but the inquisitive cave discoverer, nothing daunted, approached the fire, took from it a torch, returned to the Wile, parted the bushes, revealing a dark aperture in the face of the rock, and disappeared within it, his light giving back a yellow glare for a second atter he had ceased to be seen. The mnip revelry Brenton, the cooking pro gressed, the minutes passed, and Jones did not reappear.. "If that fellow had found a gold mine in them he wouldn't enll one of us, growled the lounger who had before spoken. " I wonder what Jones lots found. I'll jest take a look, as dinner isn't ready." Ile arose lazily, abstracted 4 stick of burning wood for a torch, proceeded to the cavern en trance and aisappeared from view. "Probably," said Hubert, •• there's a large cavern under that hill. If we had time, it might pay to explore it. Under the present circumstances, I am like Brown, and prefer my dinner to scientific exploration." The meal seemed to be nearly ready; for the rattling of tin cups and dishes began to be heard ; the lieutenant's small camp-chest Was unpacked, ana the cooks shouted to the stroll- ers to come to dinner. "Have Jones and Brown come back ?" asked the lieutenant, as he rose to a sitting po sition, and glanced towards the cavern. The men replied in the negative. " Go tiller them then, King, and hurry theta up," said. the officer. "We must resume the march after dinner, and cannot afford to waste time here." King, a fine young soldier, took a torch, and entered the cave. The dinner was dealt outhot savory steaks' and roasts—the coffee measured, and thelneal commenced, but none of the men who had en tered the cave made their appearance ! " How singular !" Naculated Brydges, tes tily and impatiently. " What can keep those men ? King has been gone ten minutes. Here, Sergeant Halsey, hurry those men up !" The sergeant, a brown, strong man of mid dle age, hesitated, and ventured to stammer " I beg your pardon, Lieutenant, but'_ think there's something wrong inside the cave. There's three men in there—all hungry and knowing that dinner is ready. Surely they'd come back, if they contd. Perhaps there's wild beasts or some strange kind of gas that smothers 'em, or—" "Nonsense, Sergeant!" interrupted the lieutenant, frowning. "I give you five min utes to bring those men back. Go !" Tge sergeant's thee paled, but, without another word, he took up a torch and entered the cave disappearing from the gaze of his friends. The minutes passed, the lieutenant and the men ate their dinner mechanically, awaiting anxiously the expected return ; yet none of the four came back. The words of the sergeant had made a deep impression on the minds of his hearers. A gen eral gloom fell upon the camp, and the men cast frequent and fearful glances in the direc tion of the cavern. Even the lieutenant and Hubertfelt a strange depression creeping over them, which neither could resist. " What can be the matter ?" at length de mandedthe officer. "The sergeant's in trou ble, I should judge, by this long absence. There can't be gas in the cave, or if so, he would probably have had time to cry out. There can't be wild beasts, for those four men were all well armed, and would at least have fired. Which of all you men will go into the cave and learn what the matter Is I" There was a general shrinking back. Every soldlercvas bravo in an Indian fight but not one dared to face a mysterious and unknown danger. Not one to risk the complete and total disappearance front earth and human knowledge that had befallen his comrades. ." Whoever will venture in search of the missing men shall receive from me a hundred dollars in gold !" exclaimed Hubert, In his clear, ringing tones. 'a Who speaks - fi rst for the money ?" The.olfer was tempting ; but it was not ac cepted. Not a word of reply was made to it. Hubert hesitated, giving a brief thought to Miriam, his loved and, waiting tliria n I His fade then glowed with a heroic light, and he, said, in tones that did not falter : " I will go in search of the men, Lieutenant Brydges. Only, your party is now small, and if I do not return in twenty minutes, you may resume your Journey." " But, Earle," expostulated the lieutenant, " tliis hi positive madness. You must not risk your life. We will wait a while, and if the men do not return, we will move on l" . . " They may need help," replied Hubert, steadily." They may lutve encountered—well, God knowsivhat, rean't imagine. If I tire my rifle, opme to me. ,If I fail to return aid!, in the Ame appointed, move on , • Ile wentup to the nearest fire, picked up a blazing stick, arranged his rifle for instant use, approached the mouth of the cave, peered into it cautiously, and listened intently for Borne sound of life. within. • No sound came. All was as still as death within the cavern.. The next Instant Hubert had vanished there All was now breathless suspense The lieutenant and his men gathered around to listen for the report of the rifle. The min utes passed ; but it came not. Five minutes .dragged by—ten—llfteen, and still no sound reached their ears. They could see a brief space into the cavern, by the light of their own torches, but nothing but rocky walls and floor met their gaze. Twenty minutes were thus passed. The time was up, and Hubert had not returned. The men looked at one another with pallid faces.. Aa if turned to stone, they stood an awestricken_group about the cavern's mouth, until the minutes had more than made up an hour—and still they lingered. • • • - During this time they had cleared away the bushes from the mouth of the cave. They had tried again and again to peer into the dark depth of the opening but could not. The lieu tenant had called repeatedly to Hubert, but received-no answer. At length be , proposed to tie a rope around hiawaist and 'descend into the sinister abyss, but his men objected unani mously. . " What's the hie ?" asked one. " There's something here that no mortal man can con quer," , ' ' , " We can't risk your life, lieutenant," said another. "Just think how few there arcane." The time continued to drag on. At last, when two full hours had passed, Lieutenant Brydgee staggered 40 ids feet; and said : " This is horrible—terrible beyond expres sion : We have lost four of our comrades and this noble young stranger, whom! loved as a brother. This fearful cave must hold the se cret of their fate, be what it may. Let us go." Without a wird, but with white faces—in a Sort of mute terror, the men mounted their horses and resumed their Journey. The above loan of this story that will be published in oar columns. The continuation of it from Where it leaves off here can be found only in the We* York Ledger, which Is for sale at all the book stores and news depots. Ask for the number dated April-10, 1809, and in it you will find the continuation of this beautiful tale. The Ledger is mailed to subscribers at three dollars a year. The publication of Rev. Dr. Tyng's great story which had been written expressly for the Ledger, is just commenced in the Ledger, so that our renders will get the whole of these two stories in it. The Ledger has the best stories of any paper In the world ; and Henry Ward Beecher, James Parton and Fanny Fern, have articles in every number. (FROM Ihnrihnes MAGAZINE.] MY CHUM'S STORY. Chum felt that he was fairly cornered. He had acknowledged to the Professor that he had been extemporizing his compositions, and now he was oppressed with the necessity of actually writing. He carried a pencil behind' his ear all the time, anti sharpened it Incessantly. He said he was trying to " bring his ideas to a point." He Would sit by the hour, lounging with his feet on the window,. whistling, or calling out to .the boys on the green ; and whenever I 'spoke to him he would reply, " Don't interrupt me ; I aul writing my com position." You never saw At the end of a week he told me it was fin ished. lie pulled out of his pocket a half-sheet of paper, folded like the back of an old letter, and began reading the notes lie had jotted there, in a slow, sententious way, very unlike his flu ent narrative of the month before. "Abney is the concentrated essence of Labor. A man who has a thousand dollars has a thou sand days' work in hisone hand. If hc knows its value he can move about among men with the force of a thousand laborers—that is, with a hundred and twenty horAe-power. "To know the Ibree of Money, one must know Labor. When one man Invi,Mnney, and another ha: , not, they contend foritspo'ssession. This is Trade, or Robbery, according to circum stances. " There are three uses of Money—the use of getting it, the use of•keeping it, and the use of spending it. Consequently it classifies the bulk of mankind into Money-getters, Money keepers, and Money-spenders. Except the misers we read of in novels, men do not love money for itself, any more than soup-tickets, or baggage-checks, or promissory notes, or title-deeds. The 'love of money . ' is the eas ure of mental function in getting or keeping or spending. The sponge And th e spendthrift are equally guilty with the miser. The class of !Stoney-getters includes mer chants, gold-miners, pickpockets, politicians, and professional beggars. Americans are great Money -getters, but they do not care to keep. Hence this is n country of great Incomes, but small fortunes. The ela.4s of Money-keepers is small. Liter ary men are not found in it. Lawyers are good at keeping money, particularly if it is other people's. Money, like some other essences, has a pungent, sweet taste ; but to he kept must . he corked tightly. It evaporates in the open air, and the vapor is called Interest. A mortgage is condensing instrument which enables a Money-keeper to evaporate a Money. spender. "The class of Money-spenders includes the majority of mankind. It Is natural to Spend money before we get it. We are all born to this, and coat a great deal before we earn any thing. The power to get Into debt is essential to the happiness of all shiftless people, includ ing most of the governments of Europe. Col lege students and married women, who have no legal capacity to bind themselves, satisfy this propensity by getting their fathers and husbands into debt if poisible. • "Money is like gunpowder. To make it ; carry, clutrgek should be carefully measured and well rammed down. Its explosive power depends on the tightness with which you hold it. Scattered loose it fizzles away with no ef fect. " To become wealthy one must get and keep. To be useful the wealthy man must be also a judicious money-spender." " That will never do, Chum I" I exclaimed, as he finished reading. " Why do you waste your ideas so ? There is matter enough in that for six essays, if it were only Written out. Then, too, it is rough. It doesn't read well." " It seems to me," said Chum, musingly, as if he had not heard my. criticism—"it seems to me that it is too long. It took me a great while . • to write it out. " Too long!" said I. " What, that scrap Prof. won't mark you ten for what doesu' take you two minutes to read." ' "But if there's enough matter in it, the shorter the better, I should think." " Not according to the Rules of Rhetoric," I said. " I'm afraid you haven't read up enough in Blair and Karnes. The fact is, to make good compositions you must expand your ideas. Blow them up big like a balloon. Beat them out thin like gold-beater's foil. Spread them, over as much surfaco as you can. When you have hammered them well on one side, tur over and hammer on the other. That's the way to shine in Rhetoric. That's the wav they teach the students to write sermons In the Seminary. One little short text can ho ham mered out forty minutes long." "Then I shall never write sermons," said Chum. "But I don't think my composition is so bad, after all. It 11 I short, and mixed up, as you say, and a little rough; but that Is the way with wisdom generally." " Yes •, but people can't digest pure gluten, nor will they take kindly to plain wisdom. You must put some bran into your bread If you would make it most digestible." Chum was silerced, of course, for the Rules of Rhetoric are unquestionable and unanswer able ; but he seemed dissatisfied, and threw down his paper, asking me to fix it for him so as to please the Professor, and went away. When he returned he was in great glee, and said I needn't do anything about his composi tion, for he should not' read it. It seemed that he had met the President coming out of Fac ulty meeting, with .the Professors, who were laughing, and the President sire to him, and w asked him ho he was getti 'LT on with the System of Romer and Dentost enes, and wish ed hint success in it. Chum took this as a license to go on in his own way • so ho threw away his pencil, and gave me !Amer, saying I might mix as much bran with it as I liked. I was always fond of getting ideas from Chum, and his paper afford ed me matter for four capital essays, which I thought were almost as long and good as the " Country Parson's,", and when I graduated I made my Commencement speech out of the sentence about the Love of Money. . . The story of Chum's extemporizing got around the class ; and when we met again the boys were all ready to laugh at whatever he should say. When he was called on ho rose, with his blank paper, and commenced his disquisition on Money as follows: Mn. Louis Intent' was one of two brothers between whom a large fortune was divided in their youth. Louis was a money-Ve I Cr, Harry a money-spender. Louis did ivZ . , • - the reigning bend, nor keep trotting - h o• and a yacht, nor disburse any in with lot good inrey it 'consideration, which h aiw ys p down, plainly In his account. k. Hany' I, atone leaked away in every irect efn, ton './ he had nothing which he cot d a li 9,,w , and ho become a sort of gen t I h ger- onto lig elder brother, full of lively ti potions of hisdclaE; The elder brother, Louis, grew old fast. He became whimsical, then queen then eccentric, and thed would have been called deranged, if ho had not been so wonderfully rich. He had peevish fits, when he did nothing that he was asked to do,-and everything that he was begged not to do . : and silent fits, when he would not speak, for a day at a time ; and gay fits, when he laughed at every thing, particularly the troubles of other people. After every monthly balancing of 'his accounts he had an economic fit, in which he would reduce his household, dismiss a servant, sell a horse or a carriage,- close up a room or a suit of rooms, and Ana diminish his expenses. Mrs. Brebb was obliged to humor his dismal fancies. She could not but reflect that, he would not last much longer; and ho was accustomed to con sole her for yielding to his capricious parsimony by telling her he was airing it all for her. • When Stephen Merprise reached the age of twenty-one, working at his trade in New York, he had with gfeat self-denial saved several hundred dollars out of his earnings ; and ho said to his sister Susie that they couldnow ful fill their mother's last wish. Before her death I I I. —mu?: int she had spoken of her brother's neglect of her, and had bade Stephen, if ho were ever able, to repay the stun that she had received from-him, and to ho independent of him. In pursuance of this wish Stephen had preserved the value of the little possessions his mother had left, and accumulated his own savings with it. The sum thus obtained lie now drew from the sav- ings-bank, and with his sister went to his uncle's great mansion to transact the mast Im portant piece of business they had yet had. They walked, with care, across the marble hall, and were ushered into the rich man's li brary.. _Mr. Krebb was his own steward and accountant. The books in his library were chiefly the ledgers in his big safe. "My name is Merprise," said the young man, "Stephen Merprise ; and I have come on a matter of business." There was uo reply. "Perhaps you remember my mother," said he, almost bitterly, vexed nt the indifferent look cast upon him, and easily conjecturing that he was regarded as a beggart " My Mother," he resumed, mising his voice, after waiting in vain for nn answer, "Mrs. Mary Merprise. You assisted her when she was in trouble. We are her children, Sir." "Oh no I" said the old gentleman; in a low voice, that seemed to come from the safe behind him. " I can't do anything more. It was very little—very little I could do then, and now I am positively unable." "Come, Susie, let's go," said Stephen, turn• ing away. But Susie stood still, holding her brother's arm and waited for him to proceed. "It may have been but little to you, Sir," resumed Stephen, thus quietly held to his pur pose, "but it was a great deal to her and to us. And it was her wish that we should callthpon you whenever—" " All 1 dear, dear," the old gentleman broke In. " Call upon me I Oh I everybody calls upon me. I have so many calls that lam un der the necessity of declining. Let me give you a piece of advice. There is a rule I have adopted which is, not to give anything to any body that asks for it. I'll give you any thing you want if you only don't ask for it. Beg gers, rich or poor, I won't encourage. So I say to 'em, If you hadn't asked it, I could have given it to you ; but now you've asked me for it, I won't do it.' That th•hat I say to 'cm." Stephen, biting his lips in silence, producAl a roll of bills, and with a tremulous hand, for it contained the last dollar he had, held it out to the old man. "There," said he. "See here. We don't ask for help. You gave my mother money to get a roof for her head. It was all you did for her ; and we have come to pay it off, as she told me to when she died." • " Ah I you wish to pay the debt? Ah ! I re collect. It was a considerable sum. Was it not more than this ? Let me see," and he turned over his ledgers. Family Expenses—Country place—Farm—Mills—Clutrity—that's the ac count, Charity. Yes, here is the entry : to sister Mary, in sundry sums, five hundred dol lars. But that was a long time ago." " Yes, Sir, a long time ; hut she wished us to offer to pay it, at least." woof course, very right ; but I was think ing or the interest. It is twelve years." " She mentioned the interest," said Stephen, "and it is all here." "Twelve years at compound interest • will make it—" "She did not say compound interest. I shall only pay you simple interest. I can not do more;_ this is all the money we have in the world. If you don't choose t take it, very well." " Ah nh ! very well. I will not insist upon it, only I usually get compound interest." The old man counted off the money and put it in his safe, " Take a seat, Sir," said he, recovering him self and speaking as if they had just come in. "Pray be seated, Miss Merprise. I am very glad to see you." " We will not trouble you longer," retorted Stephen. "We have nothing more for you." " Well, I shall be happy to see you again," said the old man. " You're getting on finely, I don't doubt. You must be a good business man to attend so well to such a case as this. lam obliged to you. 'To tell the truth, now that I have got it—he he ! I didn't much ex pect to get it again. Not much—he !he I Good-morning, good-morning." Stephen stalked out of the room with Susie blushing upon his arm. They Th left the house as the old man 'Bald to hlmsel , " I like that fellow ; he's a little snappish, 'but he's inde pendent, and he pays his debts. Ile must be a thrifty fellow. lie's my own nephew, too. I wonder where lie lives. Yes, he's my own nephew, and that's his sister. I must remem ber them in my will. Yes," he said, smiting feebly on his desk, "I will give him a chance of something, at any rate." Old Mr. Krebb thus closed his charity ac count, and ejaculated a wish that he might not have another opportunity to reopen wish tha was soon fulfilled. . hen and his sister returned to their hum ble loil!'ng feeling that they had now to begin life sum Stephen declared that he would never set foot in his uncle's house again. How well he kept the resolution remains to be seen, It so happened that Mary Cairnes, finding her brother so much better as to be able to be left alone, and their purse so low as to threaten them with speedy distress, had resolved to seek a placers household servant. Susie had en deavored to advise her toward some other cm pigment, but none had been found. Mary said that she must do something Immediately, and after advertising in vain she commenced applying from house to house in answer4o advertisements of "Servants wanted." By one of those coincidCuces which sometimes happen, it fell out that while Stephen and Susie were in Mr. Krebb's library Mary Cairnes entered the same house as applicant for the sit. nation of chamber-maid and waitress. Her appearance pleased Mrs. Krchb, who engaged her to enter upon her duties that very evening. When Stephen beard this he'at first opposed it, but unable to assign a reason why his in dignation at the selfishness of his uncle should hinder Mary front obtaining good employment he withdrew his objection, and Mary went to her new home. She found the great house in confusion and consternation, resulting from a sudden shock of paralysis that had fallen on Mr. Krebb. She was immediately sent to call several phy sicians, and then to inform Mr. Harry, the sick man's brother. Mr. Barry returned word to Mrs. Krebb that ho would come; and come he did next morn ing, with a trunk and a servant, and indicated his intention to remain with his brother. The afflicted wife welcomed even this relief to her solitude in the great house. " Is hetible to attend to business 1" asked Mr. Harry the next morning. " Very little," Mrs. Krebb replied. "We must assist him," said Mr. Harry. " He has not made his will yet ?" "No; but I think he will not need your as sistance. Ile has expressed his intentions to me repeatedly." "Alt i has be 1 but he will need our help to give them form, You and I must unite in this : our interests are the same. His property 'is very large ; it must not be too much cut up. It would be a shame to scatter it. You and I must see to this." " It will not be much scattered, Mr. Harry. I may as well tell you frankly tli t he has de clared his intention of leaNsingi, to me, as we have no children." " Ah, I see. You havtiTh i lm under your thumb, 'and you mean to monopolize him. Come, now, that will never do. , Undue itiflu enw is enough to set any will aside. We must unite in this, as I said. Our Interests are the same. You shall have one-half the personal property for life, besides your dower in the real estate ,• and I will be content with the other half. There is a million and a half apiece. That's fair. I'Ve no doubt he would agree "that." • • "Ihdeed, Sir!" exclaimed the wife, "I can not discuss such a question with pou r "Well;" urged the brother, "I will give you this house and the country place forlife," and he waved his hand calf he were generously disposing of his own. " You shall have them both for life. You shall nothe disturbed." "I can not listen to any proposals upon the subject," said Mrs. Hrebb. "I know my husband's intentions, and I shall not be a party to any attempt to influence him. to/ take any other course than that which he prefers." "But consider," urged Mr. Harry ; "there are the Merprises ; one Of them is a regular vagabond, and the others are of no account at all, I understand. They'll come in for a big share if you and I don't agree Upon some thing." "A vagabond 1 Who? where?" exclaimed Mrs. Krebb ; and after turning away her face to conceal her emotion, she continued, " I am astonished. Is he—l thought—l—l ant as tonished to hear you speak so of—of my lots band's relatives. l ' She hid her face in her handkerchief and left the room. Mrs. Krebb was not a person to yield so im portant a point as her husband's will without vigorous contest. Ten minutes after this con versation she called the waitress, and said to her: " Mary Cairnes, take a cab and tell the driver to go to No. 51 Wall Street. Go up stairs to Mr. Search's office. See him yourself, even if you have to wait. Givp him this card ; and after you have given it to him tell him that sent you, and as Mr. Krebb Is very ill, I beg him to ask for me when he comes to the house. For me, you understand, Mary." The card contained a line saying that Mr. Krebb was ill, and wished the lawyer to call immediately ceive instructions on a mat ter of grca imp wtance. Mary took it and disappear . At ab t the same moment Mr. harry rang for his s rvant, and said to hini : "John, find out quietly down stairs whi:Nei:my-lirOther's lawyer, and go to his office inicnediately, and tell him that Mr.. Louis Krebb is ill, and must see him directly. Tell him to ask for me when he comes." 'ln a feiv moments Jithn maimed and said to his mastery "Search is the lawyer's name, in Wall,Street, but Mrs. Krobb has just sent a messenger for him'.' "Ah ha! She has ! Very good, very good. But that makes no difference. Go yourself, instantly ; and mind, now ; see that you get there first. Remember he is to ask for me when he comes." Having dispatched his servant on this im portant errand, Mr. Harry went softly up stairs and entered his brother's chamber. The sick man turned__, his eyes upon him as he approached. 41azri motioned to the attendant to re firC, and seated himself at the bedside. With the manner of one who would express an af fectionate salutation, lie laid his hand upon the helpless hand of his brother. After bidding hint good-morning he talked some minutes upon general subjects, and then opened the topic of immediate interest. • " Mrs. Krcbb is very anxious that you should make your will. Can 1 assist you in any way." No answer • but a rolling of the oyes, which looked as if the old man desired to shake his bend, but had not the power, "She has her own idea of what she wishes you to do ' • what she wants you to give her ; and, doubtless, her own ideas of what she will do with it when she gets it. Do you under. stand me ?" • No answ, er ; but an almost imperceptible raising of the eyebrows, which looked as if the old man desired to nod his head but could not. "She is still a young woman, and she has naturally her ambitious and her attachments. She has never forgotten her old admirer. .I. see that since you are sick. She is very atten tive to you, is she not? Does every thing you want? Yes? Certainly. And she has often told you what she wants you to do, I don't doubt. She has set her heart, she tells me, upon having all your property. She has sent for tvlawyer just s now to get you to make your will. Perhaps he will be here soon. If I can help you, or if I tun wanted for any purpose, just let me know." The old man attempted to Weil ; his Jaw trembled and wavered without making any articulate sound. But on his face appeared a slight semblance of the grim half-smile with which he had looked on Stephen when he an nounced his rule that what was asked for he would never give.. Having thus kindly prepared the way for Mrs. Krehh, the affectionate brother withdrew. Soon Me. Search rang at the door. Mr. Search was a young old bachelor. He was a mediocre lawyer, and hail adopted conveyanc ing as his specialty In the profession, it being his ambition to draw as many mortgages as possible for somebody, and then marry Mort gagee's daughter. Mortgages enough had ho drawn for Mr. Krebb, who was. his "rich cli ent ;" but Mr. Krebb had no daughter—only a wife. . . It becomes a lawyer who draws wills to pro vide for all possible contingencies, and lie gets in the habit of forecasting the future of his client's family. Mr. Search thought of the handsome wile of the sick man ; then thought okher as a handsome widow ; and finally &- culled that he would ask her, as she had re quested, and not for Mr. Harry. Mrs. Krebb received him graciously, thanked him with some feeling for his expressions of grief at her husband's alarming condition, and then entered at once on the business before them. " uc has often expressed to me his inten tions. They arc very kind toward me--Lould not be more so—he intends to leave me every thing ; but his brother is here now, and ho is bent upon obtaining something. He wishes to impose his own interests upon my husband ; and Mr. Krebb is in such a shocking state that I cannot allow hint to be disturbed. Bo I -• • • • . thought I ought to send for you immediately I knee• no one else in whom I could so wel confide." " I thank, you, ma'am," said the lawyer. " I should say to you, frankly, that Mr. Harry Kral> had already sent for me when your But I need only add that, - ^re of course paramount I have received '5 o ishes through Mill, as well as tint friend, I may ,ay u. painful cir cumstances, regard your 1 as the most proper and authoritative of communi cating to me the iustructi the lamented —I would say of Mr. Kri we speechless condition is so much to I ded. In his condition you are the pri ion to 'make known tome his wish foi endance ; and I have no hesitation in assuring you, personal ly, that I am rchdy to disregard the requests of any others, until Mr.Hrebb himself shall in dicate some other wish." " Let us then go up stairs at once." " One moment," said the lawyer ;, "it is a delicate matter to receive 'instructions for a will under such circumstances. You may rely upon me, Madam, that I comprehend the sit uation. It is essential that Ito shall express freely his own wishes. His own wishes, you understand, you know them very well. Above all, we must prevent him front being unduly Influenced by the will of others. As he is speechless, and can onlyanswer by signs of assent and dissent, it will be necessary that you should name the various objects of bounty which you think he would wish to have re membered, the various sums or items of prop erty which you may have heard him say, or may have reason to think, he would give, and I shall gather from him his instructions a positive manner. Then I will come again to morrow, with the will engrossed—" "Tqlnorrow I No, ;it must all be done to-day:' It must, indeed. There is no time to be lost." .. - . The old man lay in his bed, and his eyes were closed. Within that little sallow head, which looked startlingly dark-upon the great expanse of white bedding, were working little currents of nervous power which even now could do Inure, in one volition, negative or af firmative, than three millions of day-laborers. One roll of those half-glazed eyes, or a shrink ing of those puckered eye-brows, could move that which the sheer force of a hnndred men in, a hundred years could not mortt e t ßi bt Li tn re place. What depths of consciousn here might be In this mind it was now impose to say. The generous potters were lung un used and dormant. Those phases - of con sciousness, through which the soul is brought into relation with ideals and the energizing power of a Future and a Superior had, never had room for existence in this brain. The whole force of its susceptibilities had long been engrossed in one direction. A great ruling passion tones the whole mind and forms the back-ground upon which all in cidental And collateral thoughts are wrought out. Every other feeling partakes of the na ture of the dominant power. In Mr. Krebb's mind there was no charity but a pecuniary charity ; no filial or fraternal relation that did not involve the idea of heirship and succession. The feeling of approbation implied the be stowal of money ; and that of displeasure im plied the withholding or withdrawal of it. WILLS & LR - IDDRT,T,):! Plain anb ifancp sob• Ipriutero, N0: , 47 EAST HAMILTON STREET, I=l NEW DESIGNS, • • LATEST BTYI.EB Stamped Checks, Cards, Circulars Paper Book., Coast' trltions and Dr Laws School Catalornes, Bill Head. Envelopes, Letter Head. Bina of Lading, Way Tana and Shipping . Card., Posters of any ---- sire etc etc Printed at Short Notice. • •• • • NO. 1W Gratitude did not exist, fortevery thinghad ile consideration, and more than that was a su perfluity. ItCsentinent was measured in dol lars and cents. Ills whole consciousness had t been pecuniary and possessory: Mrs. Krebb had now the delicate task of re minding him that the period of income had passed, and the time of outgo had come. She was not aware what a shpck she was to com municate to this possessory consciousness In proposing to reverse the order of Its nature, and in ono not to negative all that it had hitherto attained. . . . Five minutes after Mrs. Krebb and lawyer had entered the sick-chamber Harry,' becom ing impatient and suspicious that Mr. Search might enter without calling for him, as in fact he had already done, took his newspaper and chair and went to the door of the sick-cham ber, where ho seated himself as a sentinel. "There l" said he; . "now she can't get In without me. It would be just like her to try." Meanw Idle the wife, already within the room begun her part in the process of drawing a will out of the dumb old man By dint of indifferent questions, such as whether ho whaled to leave anything to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, or the Hospital for Sick Paupers, or the . Wash ington Monument, the will got on through two clauses by which some trivial bequests. were made. Thus far the old man, had only disposed of two or three thousands, which did not hurl him much. It was only pinching off a twig or two. Mrs. Krebb came to a pause after she bad named every body but herself, and looked at the lawyer. "Go ou " said be, quietly. "And who will you give the rest to, my dear? You know you have often said you meant it for me. kill you give it all tome, my dear. you are rth 1" . )The old moan was Immovable. It was like pro. po:3lng to cut him up by the roots. "Come, deary ! answer me," urged Mrs. Krebb, feeling that she must go on ; and she knelt by his side, and leaned. over him, and kissed his yellow forehead—very softly, lest the lawyer should hear it. " Come, denry ! will you say yea ? That's my love. Yes! Mr. Search, I think he said yes. Oh ! I must move ; you can not see. Ills eyebrows moved a little. I must ask him again." " tome, my love, you must say it again, sothat Mr. Search can see. It That's my dear. Yes, ho says he means It all for me." The old man's assent, feeble at first, was re peated again and again, more vigorously. "Do I understand you, Sir," said Mr. Search, "to say that you wish to leave all the rest and residue, of whatever name and nature, both real and personal, to your beloved wife, to have and to hold in her own right?" " Ile says yes ! he says yes !" exclaimed Mrs. Krehb. The old man distinctly signaled yes, but the same grim half-smile rested ou his bloodless feat ures. Could It mean, this time, that what was asked for be would not give t Ills thoughts were his own secret. He certainly did shy yes. " There !" said Mrs. Krebb, with a quiet tri umph. "That's all. We need not trouble you any more, love.- I'll go and call the witnesses." " Stay," said the lawyer. But Mrs. Krebb was already at the door. She opened It and looked out. Instantly she shrank back again,„but not quickly enough to prevent Mr. Hurry hom springing, up and thrusting his foot within the door. " What are you here for I" " What are you here for?" " Go away for a little while ; you can not see Louis now." " If you are in, I shall come in." "You've no right to come in." • " You'll not dare to refuse me." " I do refuse." " That's enough for me. Then I come in with out leave." And forcing the door open, he nearly tipped his sister-in-law into the corner as he entered. The sick man witnessed this pleasant little con test for the post of honor by his bedside. To. judge by his cynical smile, it seemed rather to amuse than to vex him. "They want me to make a will," said be to himself, " and I'll humor them. They'll have all my property if I don't make one, and I'll make one that will vex them. I'll trap 'em, the buzzards I" Mrs. Krebb and Mr. Harry each move rapidly to tile bedside, as if contesting for the possession of the half-animated, and stood there, alternately doting mum him and glaring at each other: Mr. Search, not knowing what else to do, went on with his questions. The old man directed his eager gaze at first at the lawyer, whom be was an swering, and then at his wife and brother, watch ing the expressions on their faces. You have given all your property to your be loved wife," said the lawyer, resuming the inter rented instructions. The old man turned his grim smile upon his brother and signaled " Yes." " What, Louis!" exclaimed he, with on oath— , "to her 1" The old man, us if a new passion reanimated his powers, nodded—actually nodded. "You're crazy," said Harry. Louis made as if Ile would shake his head. Mr. flurry Iphrew up his hands as if all was over, and threw himself into his chair, while Mrs. Krebb beamed with triumph. " Do you give it to her without condition or lim itation 1" continued the-lawyer. The old man turned his Woks toward his wife, and, enjoying her attention, signaled "No." "What condition do you imposer Ile still smiled grimly on his wife's anxious, - quiring face, but indicated no reply. " Is the bequest for life 1" " No." • " For a term of years'?" "No." "During widowhood ?" The old man nodded. " Do I understand you that her right ceases if she marry again 1" The old man, without taking his eyes off her face, smiled and nodded, as if to say, "How do you like that, dearest 1" The wife hid her face in her hands and threw herself back into a chair, and Mr. Harry Jumped to his feet again. "And what disposition do youtuake of it in case she should marry again 1" continued the lawyer, coolly. No answer. "Do you give it to ma, Louis I" appealed his brother. Louis looked keenly at him, and slowly nodded. Mr. Harry cast n glance of triumph on his sis ter-in-law, us he pressed his Inquiry, "You give it an to me—all Yee." "He gives it all to me if she marries again," said Mr. Harry, turning to the "lawyer. "You understand 1" " I will take the instructions myself, if you please, Sir," returned the lawyer. "I understand you to Say," continued he,addressing the testator, "that, in case of the marriage of Mrs. Krebb, you give your estate to Mr. Harry Krehlt--upon any condi tions 1" CA y es. " "What conditions do you wish? Dothey relate to his use of the property ? right has hey Is "No." "To his own state or condition!" "Yeth" " What—marriage." " No:" " 1" "Yee." " Do you limit the girt to a lite-egtate 1" "No:" "Do you mean to make the gift take effect only In case he should he living at the .time of such marriage I" • •, "Yes." "But Übe should not be living how would y, n dispose of It 1' Do you wish to elte It to any of thrfTrso4os who have been mentioned before!" , "To whom t—the children of yodr sister 1" r. Yes." , " What aro there names . .Stephen, I . believe", "And Basun." • ' " Now," said the lawyer, recapitulating to make . this eaprielotis purpose 'distinct, "you give all your estate to your wife, provided she does not marry again. If she marries again her , right ceases, and you give the estate to yonr brother, provided he lm then living. - If be be - not then liv ing, you , give it to Stephen and Susan in corm' shares.' " Yes, yes!" nodded the old man. Andi with an enthusiasm of malice lip looked from wife to brother, and from brother to wife, to watch the effect he had produced In thus hedging their ex pectations with couthigeaeles. He had every reason to be gratified with the immediate effect of uls ingenuity. He had completely embarrassed them both. It occurred, of course, to the 'lawyer that he might perhaps modify these Inteutimis, of the old man if he should point out some of the legal ef recta of such provisions. But whatever personal formica he may have cherished when he com menced to draw a will in favor of the anticipated widow were quite cad remain the shocking provi sion or condition th e should main unmar- I tied... Iliermind a lugly laid reverted to its proper professional beritingly - And be now ctinterirt. plated the vast estate with 'Mee owner he was dealing rather as a fine subject for litigation than as the marriage portion of a' handsome widow. In this point of view he naturally thought, as some others have before hint, that the worse the will the ALLENTOIV-V, CONTINUED ON FOURTH PRON.
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