MXLICRTIBMG..IttaBB.
It. 1 me. • 3, • mos. (I mos. lyr.
)ne Square . . 1.50 1.75 3.50 0.50 12.00
Two Squares . . 3.00 3.50 6.50 9.0) 20.00
Throe Squares . . 1.50 5.2.1 10.00 17.01 2.1.50
81x Squares, . . . 11.50 17.00 2.1.00 15.00
quarter Column . 13.50 2100 10.00 01.10
Half Column . . . • 2EOO 10.00 130.00 110.01
,One Column/ 30. 00 00.00 110.00 2400
Proiregalehal Csids $l.OO per Ilea par year.
•• /diniblatraMe•and AnSiter's . Ndtleek, 03.00.
City Notices, 20 cent. per line ht insertion, 15 rents per
I ne each subsequent insertion.
Ten lines agate constitute ■ square.
.ROBERT 'IREDELL,
ALLENTOWN, PA.
Coal tub Lumber
leow
Wuurus*i.x D ix
ROUGH & WORKED LUMBER,
SASH DOORS AND BLINDS,
WILLIAM SPORT, PA
H• Orders from the trade solicited
• TILBERT. B.OTTO. H. M. OttO. O. W. 3111.1.1,6
F ILBERT, OTTO d: MILLER,
MANUFACTURERS AND DEALERS IN
LUMBER,
WILLIAMSPORT, PA
HILL ON CANAL WEST OP MAYNARD STREET,
OFFICE AT THE MILL.
W. F. CRANE, AOENI. 4, SUE 9617
REMOVAL!.
SMITH & OSMUN'S
COAL AND WOOD YARD !
Ti,. chore Coal stud bridgeord hoot been removed tu the
mit end of the Jordon SOUTH SIDE, where will
he conotauttly kept a One and full oupply of
Egg, Stove Nut and Chestnut Coal,
selected from the beet mines le the enentry.
OUII, C 0 A L
ti,undor cover—and It lain the Ititerret of every on to
purchase
DRY AND SCREENED COAL
on !IT ,7 duhvered l to all party of the olty at tlalurrr l .i
market prlceot.
V! ' l4 .. D C e l joi, A lC t o p tiV l a ' Tt a t n
he l o ' L'rrineir. kept al Ihr Lrhl¢h
Wir-T111.9 18 THE PEOPLE'S COAL YARD.-"lka
Our Coll In nelected from the be•t mines
thud Lekfga
region, and knowing title to Le the feet uud It will five
Perfect tuttlanteltou, there In uo tme I teo retuuu
the money, All we sok 14 1 •
trial. Order, token at Lteth;
er'e hotel.re.
FliA:llEl.lh SMITH, WILLIAM OPIMONI
July 111 k
COAL. CONSUMERS.
I.OOK TO YOUR INTEREST !
P. 11. STELTZ
Hereby Inform. am citizens of Allentown, aad lb• pub
11. hi mineral, that b.l. prepared to furnish oil kind. of
CO AL
fronshis wall decked Yard, formerly 11. (loth k Cu..., at
the Lehigh Basin. In the City of Allentown, where he will
eonstantly keep on band a full supply of all kkoda of Coal,
at the vary lowest market prlees. Ills coal Is nice and
• clean, from the very best mines, and to qoality auperlor
• any offered In Allentown.
Ito wlll
sell Coal by the CAR LOAD, at very •melt pro
fits, S. be lnteod• to do buelnese upon the principle of
"Quick and Small Profits." Ole,. him a call, and
upon comparing price• you C•II j wig° (or yoursel
will deliver Coal upon pall to any part of the .City
upon orders balite left at th• Yard, or Welashelmer'm store
mar 31-tf P. 11. STELTZ.
R EMOVAL.
TREXLER & BROTRER9,
CIZIECIECIn=I=I
LUMBER,
11.egbjuteraxNed f rom fr te
old st athr iends nd and to pat
their . that limy
e
NEW YARD
sear the corner ef Tenth and Hamilton streets, formerly
occupied by Brains it Miller, as a Lumber Yard, Where
they will constantly keep on hand a large and seasoned
stock of.
LUMBER,
ouch as all lards of
PINE, HEMLOCK, CIIF.STNUT, POPLAR , SHINGLES
PICKETS, LATHS, &e.
la fact everylblng usually kept by the trade.
gr,-All kinds of lumber cut to order elation notice.
Thankful for past favors, we trust our friends, as well
as the public In general, will give us a rail at our New
T•ri, where we will use our best eudea•ora toreador 'int
eraction both as regard. quality and price., Curt '13'6841
MO CONTRACTORS AND 'WILD-
A- Ell 5.
Th. Under•lgned 1. prepared to contract for . furnishing
SASH, BLINDS, WINDOW FRAMES,
DOOR FRAMES: SHUTTERS.
And all kinds of building lumber Agent for
HOPE SLATE COMPANY'S LEHIGH SLATE
Whole.le and retell dealer In the
CELEBRATED CUCUMBER PUMP.
Orders left at the EAGLE HOTEL tr Hf rereire prompt
attention. Post Mike addresn,
RL It
Qualtertowu, Buck. Co.. F!L.
•ei , =2..1y
MEM
REVIVAL I 2
The eubserlbere hoeing levied the "Old Hope Coal
T•rd," would reopeetfully announce to the citizen. of
Allentown and au:public lu moral, that they ha vojuet
got
• •uDarlur a.urtrosul of
COAL
B EaTlVldt i vill i g:4 l ll•l 4. Chestnut Rod :4 ul front th•
tb o e
sid . p g r i tyr i f o t i, tl , ll t h io t. , A rio l i l ii n . b g er if
i S i g o e r r t r e d tr
w lehn e
b at:
attatl•d to in •
BUSINESS
like laminar.
Orders fur Coal by the ear filled at short uullea and at
tb• lusradt priest.
Always oo Land • large stock of
BALED HAY,
which will be cold at the lowest market price.
L. 'W. KOONS & CO.,
at lba" Old (lope Coal Yard
llntallloa Strait, corner of Lehigh Valloy RAllroul
ALLENTOIVII. PA.
L. W. Koo.
act??
TANDARD NOVELS•
OF THE BEST AUTHORS
IN PAPER COVERS,
FROM 15 CENTS UPWARDS
JUVENILE AND
TOY BOOKS
AMERICAN AND LONDON,
FROM FIVE CENTS UPWARDS.
Writing Desks,
EVERY STYLE AND PRICE
A NEW STOCK OF
Pocket Knives,
OF VARIOUS PRICES
PORT-MONNAIES, POCK
ET BOOKS, LADIES' WORK BOXES and
COMPANIONS, and every imaginable article
kept In a fancy goods and stationery store.
• AT
'UDELL'S BOOK STORE,
45 EAST HAMILTON STREET,
ALLENTOWN, -PA
A. RARE OPPORTUNITY.
T, C. liernalien, of the old Allentown ChiniCand Glass
ware Store, finding his heal th requires a release from the
cares of business, offers iris stockand (Axioms for sale,
V.store and dwelling fur rent. 'Fire location Isgood,
which would nut be Parted with but for the aboca
n o gg
Pir,; , „„ ‘6°.sx Ali Al o '
Allentown &
VOL. XXIV
ellillboll3 Sljabco
H. A. STEEL,
UPHOLSTERING,
WINDOW BIIADE & BEDDING BTORE,
No. 46 North Ninth Street,
W IN DOW SHADES,
MEM
With Az tures complete, (rad MOO a pale, up to 03.00.
WHITE lIOLLAND SHADES AT ALL PRICES.
SHADES OF ANY STYLMI . D COLOR MADE TO Olt•
STORE SHADES MADE AND LETTERED.
LACE AND DRAPERY CURTAINS.
ALL KINDS OF WINDOW DRAPERY
PATENT MOSQUITO CANOPIES.
GILT, ROSEWOOD AND WALNUT CORNICES,
CURTAIN RANDS, TASSELS, CORD, dtc.
FURNITURE STRIPS CUT AND MADE.
STAIR AND VESTIBULE RODS.
FURNITURE REXPILIOLSTERED AND VARNISHED.
Carpet. mud Dotting, till] sod new, nttle,.•ltered and
put down.
UPHOLSTERERS' MATERIALS OF EVERY
DESCRIPTION AT 'WHOLESALE
A NEW TILING.
SILK FINISHED WINDOW SHADES.
oct 13-ly
L E. WALRAVEN.
MASONIC HALL,
NO. 719 CHESTNUT STREET,
le now receiving hla Fall importation., conaleiliag to
part of
C U RTA I N MATERIALS,
In Sllk. Mohair, Worosted, Llnen sad Cotton. embranlng
many novnltlon.
Lace Curtains
of Parisian. B&. Gallen and Nottingham make
CORNICES AND DECORATIONS
of new and original dentin..
WINDOW SHADES,
by the thousand or single one at manufacturers' prices
AIUSQUITO CANOPIES.
Clomlog out ■t reduced prices
MIMI
For Pure Water,
this celebrated Put
entirely legalese,
dura4le and relia•
bit: equal to the
good oid•buhtonet
wooden Pomp, at
eon less then hal
money Easily art
so us to be non.f
and In constructlc
that any one can
keep It In repair.
THE BEST AN
AGENTS WANTED. AGENTS
WANTED, $75 to WO per month, male and female,
to sell the celebrated and original Common Snare Faintly
Sewing Machine, Improved and perfected; it will hem,
fell, 'ditch, tuck, bind, braidand embroider In a must
omperior manner. Price only $l5. For cimplicity and
durability, it has no rival. Du not buy from any parties
ceiling machines under the same name an ours, unless
having a certificate of Agency signed by us, alt they are
worthimm Cast Iron Machine,.
Fur Circular, and Terms, apply or addrew
C ,
11. RAWFORD& CO.,
Oct 20-3 m Fhilad'a, Pa.
R. M. ROBINSON de CO.,
=I
r=l
MILITARY, CIIURCH, SOCIETY,
THEATRICAL GOODS, FLAGS, BAN
NERS, BADGES, ETC
NO. 121 NORTH THIRD STREET,
LAND WARRANTS
WANTED
OF WAR 01' 1812 AND MEXICAN WAR
FOREIGN COINS. STOCKS,_GOLD, GOVERNMENT
[Ol aud other BONDS BOUGHT sod SOLD.
COLLECTIONS promptly rondo on all points
DEPOSITS DECEIVED.
fotlusmlll tgrethtet:rze the totoreets thoe
with
ru,in,
JOIIN S. RUSHTON & CO..
Bankers and Broker..
dee fl.ly No. 60 South Sd St.. Philad'a.
Znall jJaper anti Stationerp.
--- -
1869: PHILADELPHIA. 1860..
WALL PAPERS,
HOWELL Si BOURKE,
111/00,/keir RIM Or
•
PAPER HANGINGS AND WINDOW SHADES,
SALES ROOMS, Cor. FOURTH nod MARKET Sto„
PHILADELPHIA.
Factory, Cor. Tvrenty•third nod Slirl.o St..,
NEW STYLES EVERY DAY, OP OUR OWN MAKE.
Oct 6-3 m
(Tarpcts nub Oil Cloth.
;-- -- „
FLOOR OIL CLOIIi,
K. K. Do/UNMET
-17
1.1, 5.1.0 {•1 to New sod El Design. OW Lenoir
in Price.
RICH AND ELEGANT
CARPETS, OIL CLOTHS, &c
=I
CARPET BUSINESS
AT 10 8. SECOND ST., PHILADELPHIA,
(Between Market and Cheetuut
With. fall naaortment n( VELVET, BRUSSELS, THREE
PLY, INORAIN alai VENETIAN cARPETS, Oil Chub,
Wiuduw Shades, Re.. at reduced prleao. mer,ls-ly
ffircbanics.
•
coNsuonocKEN
BOILER AND COIL WORKS.
•
JOAN WOOD. JR.,
11/01UlACT01111 OF ••
TITRE, FLUE A XD CYLINDER BOILERS. BATH
AND STEAM CIRCULATING BOILERS,
All kinds of Wrought Iron Coll., Toyer. for Dl.ot Fur
nace, 0 esometery, Smoke Starke_, Blast Ply,e,lron Wheel
barrows, and eve ry thing lo the Dealer and Sheet Iron line,
Also, •II kinds o r o f td Steel Forgin W h e wkm
work, Millen.' T oo l , all kindeotoch o. Buckets,
Picks, Drill., htellets, Sledge., AC.
Ila•Ing • Steam Hammer and oet of tools of all kinds,
and skilled workmen, I 'natter myself that I can turn out
work with promptoese and dispatch, nil of which will be
warranted to bo iiret•clans.
Patching Boilers, and repairing generally, strictly at
tended to. ape 7-1
W . J. EVERETT'S NEW PATENT
SCAPULAR SHOULDER BRACE AND
No straps ender the arms, Perfectly comfortable. sea.
tomloelly made, sod highly beneficial. 00 North 7th St..
below Arch Phlladelphic T flapporten, Elastic
Stockings, Crotches, 0., lowest prime to the city. Lady
sites dant. Op L 5
WANTE..
D..A LOAN OF 11110.000,
by the Altai/tows School District. For particular/
apply to the undersigned.
Q. M. Prost. laN Co*,
sepS•if D _ell.. •
1711130112100
MEI
=l3
KRAMER'S "OLD CORNER.•
S. C. FOU LK
STRAP SUPPORTER.
lie
'tichigh
TWE TWO FLAGS
AN INCIDENT OF TIIE WAR IN CUBA
PRONE from the black-browed Moro—the castle
crested crag—
Drooped in the drowsy noontide the red and yel
low flag,
Aud In the seething city the sun with fiery glare
Flashed on a sea of faces—a thousand bayonets
bore. ,
Soldiers with sullen faces—u doomed man trem
bled nigh—
While a motley throng from every side poured
forth to see him tile
And all the mighty multitude beheld with bated
breath
The scene of coming slaughter—the mauy-throat
cd death.
But by the path! prisoner, bare-headed and stern
browed
Strode forth two valiant consuls before the surg
ing crowd ;
One waved Columbia's banner, and one the Cniou
Jack,
While all were tilled with wonder and warned the
brave men back.
But step by step together, before those armed
bands,
Paced the proud consuls, holding the ensigns In
their hands,
" Present!" The three stood silent, one moment
face to face =
The consuls calm and steady, and the prisoner in
his place.
A sudden flash of crimson, of red, and white, and
blue—
The trembling captive cowered between the daunt
less two ;
The three stood draped together beneath the ban-
net's' fold—
The proud twin flags of Freedom—of this New
World and the Old.
Then, turning stem and haughty upon the ordered
line ;
" By these broad lingo I claim him and keep him
—he is mine!
The England and Columbia stretch arms' across
the seas
To shield him. Strike the prisoner : you strike
through us and these!"
Thus outspake he of England. Like lions bro't
to bay,
The twain with eyes defiant looked •around that
stern a my.
There fell a solemn silence: the rifle barrels shone
Still at the doometneu's shoulders : men shuddered
and looked on.
Till in a clear voice, crossing the bullet's threat
ened track,
Rang out the sudden mandate to march the pris
oner back;
And as the shining escort fell hack and faced
about,
From all the crowded plaza went up one mighty
shout—
A mighty storm of visas, that rent the sultry
skies,
Greeted the gallant consuls—the deed of high
emprlse,
Still louder, ever louder, went up that vast ac
claim
From all the mighty piazza bathed In its noonday
flame.
Onward to future ages, far clown the teeming
years,
That sea of upturned faces sends forth Its storm
of cheers :
Long shall the deed be honored, and proudly
handed down,
To crown the victor consuls with Fame's endur
ing crown ! .
Hall to the hero consuls. Hall to the noble twain
Who dared for truth and duty the bullets' deadly
rain !
How strong to face the mighty—how great to
guard the weak—
Are thee; the great twin nations to whom the
helpless seek !
Still shall our arms protecting be stretched across
the sea—
Still shall the tyrants fear us Who set their cap
tives free,
Wrapped in a mighty mantle from hatred's cruel
scars—
The blood-red Cross of England, Columbia's
Stripes and Stars !
EDWARD RENAUD, In Lippirtrott's Magazine
MR. DAWBARN
BY T. W. ROBERTSON, AUTHOR OF "CASTE"
"OURS," "SOCIETY," "SCHOOL," ETC.
CIIAPTER I
" Would you have the kindness to step this
way, sir, into Mr. Dawbarn's room I"
These words were addressed by a banker's
Clerk to a young man whose dress and man
ners were o vulgar compound of groom, bet
ting man, and pugilist. The sporting gentle
man swaggered by the desks and the clerks,
looking infinite disparagement at the whole
concern, and was ushered through the double
doors into the presence of Mr. Dawbarn.
Mr. Dawbarn was the principal banker in
Bramlingdon, and Bramlingdon was the
county town of the little county of Mulford.
It consisted of one long, straggling street,
beautified by five old churches, each a splendid
specimen of architecture, which contrasted
strongly with the Town Hall, the Corn Ex
change, and the Market Place, which were
modern buildings, and unpleasant to look at.
"Mr. Studden," said Mr. Dawbarn to the
young gentleman of sporting appearance, " I
have to talk to you, sir, very seriously ; sit
down, if you please."
Mr. Studden sat in a chair as if it were a
saddle, shut one eye knowingly, and examined
the thong of his whip with the other.
"Mr.' Studden," continued the banker, sol
emnly, "I have been informed that you have
overdrawn your account to the amount of—"
" Yes ; I know all about that, governor,"
broke in Mr. Studden. "I've been told so
twice."
"I therefore gave directions• that the next
time you presented a check, you should be
shown in here to me," said the banker.
"That is—a check of my own drawing."
"Quite so."
" Well, now I am here," said Mr. Studden,
goading the side of his imaginary horse with
his left heel ; " respectful comps, and ghoul d
like to know your little game. What's to be
done ?"
"Mr. Studden, I have known you from a
boy, „
" Well, I know that."
"And I now see you a ruined man."
"Hold hard, Matilda," interrupted Studden,
" not ruined—pushed for the moment—on my
knees, but not staked. I've been unlucky on
the races this last year—unlucky at play. Why,
last night I lost a pot at lon, and then that gal
behaved to me In—"
"Mr. Studden," said the banker, closing
his eyes, " I cannot listen to a catalogue of
your cri—cri—imprudences. lam the father
bf a family, and—"
" Cut that, governor I" broke in the amiable
Mr. Studden. " What I want is money, and
not preaching—no preaches and lloggee too.
This is the state of the odds. I've overdrawn
my account, good ; will you let me have some
snore ? 'tin, I mean ; if you will, I'm sure to
retrieve myself. I've some splendid things
on, but I must have the reaely—ti—iddity—
rhino."
"Mr.'Studden," said Mr. Dawbarn, "I do
not understand your jargon, nor Is such lan
guage the sort of thing I am accustomed to
hear. You have lost the fortune left you by
your father in gambling, horse-racing, and—
and the like: For the last'seven years I have
seen you going to irretrievable ruin. As you
had a long minority, and no friends to advise
you, I have tried to help you, but I regret to
say, your complete ruin is inevitable—inevi
table."'
"Bet you fifteen to one it Isn't I" said Mr
Studden.
" What you owe me," continued the banker,
not noticing the interruption—" whit you
owe me I shall never trouble you for."
"Bless you !" said the irreverent Btudden.
Mr. Dawharn's face reddened. "Mr. Stud.
den," he choked out, "1 am not accustomed
to treated with rudeness, and I don't mean to
begin now. I would have given you some
advice, sir."
"Don't want it, thank you."
" Good advice, parental advice ; but it will
be of no use, I can see."
"Not a bit."
ALLENTOWN, PA., WEDNESDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 9,1870.
I shall leave you, therefore, to the pursuit
of your career of profligacy, and may it—may
it—" Mr. Dawbarn stammered, for he felt
that he was proposing a toast at a public
meeting—" may it prove to you that—that—
that—"
" Out with it. governor," said the Insolent
young sporting-man.
" No, sir I will not out with it," said the
banker, majestically. "I will not say what
I was going to say."
"Are you quite clear what you were going
to say ?" inquired the young man, who re
spected neither age nor wealth:
Mr. Dawbarn covered his defeat grandly.
" I will not detain you any longer, Mr.
Studden ;" lie rang the bell; "I wish you
good-day, sir ; my servant will show you out."
" Very good, governor," said Mr. Studden,
dismounting from his chair, or saddle. "You
throw me over—very good ; and just at the
moment when I could make a colossal fortune.
If I had your capital—or you had my talent
and specultited—ka foozilum I—what might
not be made with the tips I have know
the way out, Chawlcs"—this Mr. Studden ad
dressed to the servant—" you needn't show
me.—Mr. Dawbarn, I have the honor to be,
sir, yours truly, ever to command, etcetera—
cetera—cetera."
Mr. Studden departed with a flourish, leaving
the banker in a state of the most wrathful in
dignation. Mr. Dawbarn was a great man in
Bramlingdon, and accustomed to be treated
with respect and deference and servility ; and,
though so excellent a person, Mr. Dawbarn
was something of a humbug, and the young
man's manners had convinced him that he
knew it ; and it is very annoying to men of
fifty years of age to be found out by their ju_
niors. Mr. Robert Studden, or, as he was
called, Mr. Bob Studden, or Mr. Rip Studden,
swaggered past the cashier and clerks with the
ease of a jockey and the grace of a groom. A
dozen steps from the door of the bank he met
a clerk whom he stopped.
" Halloo." he cried with graceful badinage,
",Munro, how goes it 2"
" How do you do, Mr. Studden 1" inquired
the clerk. . .
" Don't be in such a hurry—well, how is
she—eh ?"
Mr. Stud—l—" •
" Don't be afraid, my boy. I'm not the
man to spoil sport. Why not bolt with her
bolt I I'd lend you my last fiver to help you.
I saw you the other morning. lii-tol-de-rol,
-day."
Mr. Studden closed one eye, thrust his
tongue into his cheek, and strolled down the
one long, straggling street of I3ramlingdon,
the pink of sporting, self-conscious vulgarity.
CHAPTER II
In a small country town it is impossible that
any thing can be kept secret—efEept murder
—and then Rumor points to so many probable
criminals, that justice and detective policemen
become lost in surmise, and embarrass the in
nocent that the guilty may go free. Slow to
detect murder, the provincial intellect Is swift
at the discovery of love. Had Romeo met
Juliet at a fancy ball in Peddlingharn, instead
of a masquerade in Verona, and afterward
prowled about the garden of his Mistress's
father's house, the Signori Capulet and Mon
tague would have been informed of the occur
rences early on the following morning by
several competent and credible eye-witnesses
—all of the gentler sex, and the majority on
the other aide of tivc-and•thlrty yearn of rige.
It was Christmas-day, clear, cold, and
frosty. Mr. Dawbarn was dressed In his
brightest black, and his cravat was as a mon
ument to the most irreproachable of laun
dresses. But Mr. Dawbarn was pale and agi
tated, his head shook and his hands trembled,
till the papers ho held itithem rattled and
crumbled, when a servant opened, the dining
room door and announced " Mr. Munro."
Mr. Dawbarn turned paler; an? when the
young clerk whom Mr. Robert Studden had
so playfully rallied a fortnight before in the
street entered, the banker trembled more
violently.
"Mr. Munro," said the banker, when the
door was closed, " you—you—you doubtless
know why I have sent for you—on this festive
occa—sion—sion, to-day ?"
The young clerk, who was as pale, as Mr.
Dawbarn, faltered out, "No, sir," with so
transparent an effort that the bankeisaw that
the young man perfectly understood the rea
son of the interview.
" Your conduct, sir, has been such - that l—
I—I do not know how to address you," stam
mered Mr. Dawbarn. " That you, sir, my
servant, my paid and salaried servant, should
Lave so abused my confidence ; should have
so dared to try to so injure me, is—is—what I
did not expect from you. I know all, sir, all.
You are discharged from the bank this mo
ment."
A pang shot over the young man's, face
" You will not be allowed to enter - there
again. This quarter's salary is there, sir."
The banker put upon the table a small paper
packet. "As I shall not suffer you to take
your place at your desk again, there is a half
year's salary." The banker placed another
small packet on the table, and the clerk made
a deprecatory motion with one hand. " I
insist on it, sir, and shall take no denial. I
also insist on your leaving Bramlingdon to
night, or to-morrow morning, at the very lat
est. Should you have any debts here, leave a
list of them, and, to-day being Christmas-Day,
I will see that one of the clerks pays them the
day after to-morrow. There can be no excuse
for your remaining, and ; your absence, sir, is
a matter of much more importance to me than
a few paltry pounds ; so I will hear of no ob.
jection."
Mr. Daw•barn paused and drew breath, and
the young clerk looked at him and then at the
window, as it out Into a far distance beyond.
"My accounts, sir," he began, when the
banker interrupted him.
" Will be found quite right, I dare say.
had you only robbed me of money, sir, I
should have been better pleased.. I have
treated you only too well, and, In return, see
what you have done." Mr. Dawbarn struck
his clinched hand upon the table. " But no
matter. Do I understand that you will leave
Bratnlingdon W . -night ?
Munro took his eyes from the window, and,
looking full in the banker's face, said : -
" Limy."
Mr. Dawbarn's face turned scarlet, and he
again struck the table. " Don't mention my
daughter's name to me, sir, If you please. I
wont hear It I how dare you ? There, sir,
are the rnhbishing letters you have sent to her,
and, if you have any sense of decency or hon
esty left, you will return those you have of
hers—of—of my daughter's."
Munro took up the letters his former mas
ter had tossed to him.
"Dld you hear me, sir!" asked the hanker.
"I beg your pardon."
"I say, will you give me back her letters,
and will you leave Bramlingdon to
,•night ?"
There was a pause, and the belle of the
church rang out for morning service.
"I can make no promise, sir," replied the
young clerk, very clearly. "I have a duty
to your daughter as well as a duty to you. If
else desires that I should—"
"You set,me at defiance, do you, sir?"
burst in the banker. " Very good, very good;
but don't suppose, if you stay hero forever,
that you will see my daughter, or be enabled
to write to her. If you stop in Bramlingdon,
she goes. Nest week she travels with her
from bet father's presumptuous clerk, who,
because his master asked him a few times to
his house, to sit at his table, and treated bins
as an equal, so far forgot himself as to ft his
eyes up to his daughter, his only child."
It had been a terrible Christmas morning in
the banker's house. Mr. and Mrs. Dawbarn
had been informed that their only daughter,
Lucy, rose every morning early, and had an
interview with the young clerk; Munro, in the
kitchen-garden, the door of which opened into
a lane, and of which door either Lucy or the
young clerk, or both, possessed a key. Lucy
had been forced into a confession and had gone
on her knees to her papa and wspt and implored
him not to hurt her George. She had given
up all his letters which she was in the habit of
placing under her pillow every night and which
letters Munro had written stealthily in banking
hours, and placed in a certain portion of the
wall near the tool-house in the kitchen garden.
Mr. Dawbarn went on wildly, and frightened
Mrs. Dawbarn,n good motherly woman into a
fit. When Mrs. Dawbarn recovered, Miss
Lucy went off into a swoon, and her father
and mother had to recover her, and Mr.
Dawbarn was in agonies lest the servants of
his household should be,cognizant of the dis
turbance, which:was an entirely unnecessary
excitement on his part, as they, the servants,
had known all about it for the last eight months.
Poor Lucy was told that Munro was to be im
mediately sent away, but that she and her
mamma were to go to church that day, as their
absence might be remarked by a devout but
curious congregation, and that she was to
bathe her eyes and look unconcerned, easy,
comfortable, and composed.
As Lucy and her mamma passed the door
of the dining-room, Lucy, heard the young
clerk's voice. She knew that she should never
see hint again and she could not resist her im
pulse. She ran to the door, seized the handle,
and would have opened it, but her mamma
pulled her away, and on the other side Mr.
Dawbarn rushed to the door and put his back
against it. Munro strode to the window, that
he might take a last look at his mistress as she
left the house.
"Good-by, George, dear, good-by," cried
Lucy, in the passage ; "we shall never see
each other again ; but, good-by, and good-by,
and good-by again I"
I=
A year had elapsed since Lucy Dawbarn
had bidden farewell t, her father's clerk
through the dining-room door. Ile had left
Bramlingdon, and gone no one knew whither.
Neither letter nor message came to Lucy ; she
was too strictly watched. She often walked
in tho garden, and looked at that portion of
the wall where they had concealed their letters.
'rho good old brick that they used to take out
and put back again was a thing of the past.
In its place there was a. bran new red brick,
cemented by bran new white mortar, that you
could see a mile Mt Lucy had been to Lon
don, and had been visiting, not only her fath
er's and Mother's relatives, but the magnates
of the county, and had seen all sorts of plea
sures and fashion and distraction, and, at the
end of six months, had returned, very thin
and pale.
Bho had been home but a few weeks, when
the news came that young Munro had sailed
from Liverpool for New York. It reached
Lucy's ears through a sympathetic servant
maid. The next morning, she sent word that
she would like to have a cup of tea sent to her
up stairs in her room, as she bad a headache,
and beamed tniv. p‘rnoprl from the breakfast
table. Mrs. Dawbarn knew that she had
heard of Munro's departure for America, but
she did not dare to mention even the name of
the unobjectionable clerk to her husband, who
was entirely ignorant of the young man's
movements. Two or three days after the doc
tor was sent for. The medical man hummed
and hawed, and said that his patient was low.
Lucy grew worse and worse. A consultation
was held. The young lady's disorder was
pronounced to be nervous fever; end one
white.headed old gentleman front London
suggested to Mr. and Mrs. Dawbarn that it
the young lady were engaged he should not
advise the postponement of the ceremony.
" You see, my dear Mr. Dawbarn," said
the old gentleman, "your dear daughter's
malady is partly mental. She has here no
employment, that is, no fresh employment for
her mind. If you could substitute new duties
fresh impressions, she would recover quickly.
Her energy is wearing her to pieces ; she
wants, so to speak, to begin her life over
again. If—if her partner has not yet been
chosen - -here the eyes of the father and
mother met—" let her travel, let her choose
on occupat ion, give her something to do. I
know a young lady—much the saute kind of
case—who took to painting, and found con
siderable benefit from the study and the prac
tice. Italy, now, might create a desite to cul
tivate some art—say music, eh ? Your dear
daughter is not strong ; her mind is too much
for her body."
Lucy was taken to Harrowgate, to Chelten
ham, to Leamington, and Scarborough, then
to the south of France and Italy. When she
returned to Bramlingdon, she had to be lifted
front the carriage. Her father, who had not
seen her for two months, was struck with the
visible alteration in her face and figure. Ile
himself carried her to her room, and was
hardly conscious of his burden. She said she
was tired with her journey, and would go to
bed. Mr. Dawbarn descended to dine with
his wife, and meeting on the stairs with the
sympathetic housemlud who had informed
Lucy of Munro's departure for America, and
asking the girl why she was crying, and re
ceiving for answer that it was for Miss Lucy,
discharged her on the spot.
It was a dis Mal dinner. Husband and wife
spoke but little, and, when one caught the
other's eye, there was a great show of appe
tite. Mr. Dawbarn drank a considerable
quantity of sherry. When the cloth was re
moved, the conversation flagged. Neither
dared begin the conversation they felt was in
evitable. Before they went into Lucy's room,
to look at her as she lay sleeping, Mr. Daw
barn put his arm round his wife's waist and
kissed her ou the forehead, a proceeding
which made the good old lady tremble very
much, and her mouth and nostrils quiver.
Side by side in the dark the couple lay
awake, in their luxurious eliamlier, staring at
the reflection of the window frame upon the
blinds. The father began :
"Jemima."
" Philip," said the mother.
" What do you think of Lucy 4"
The mother heaved a deep sigh.
"Good God !" said the banker, "when I
took her up in my arms, I could hardly feel
her weight. She was like a feather—like a
feather. Jemima, you're crying, my love.
Tell me, honestly, now, honestly, candidly,
as you think. Tell me, tell me."
The wife threw her arms around her hus
band's neck, and sobbed : "I fear that we
shall lose her !"
It was spoken, and Death was recognized as
a Presence in the house.
"D'ye think there's NO hope ?"
"Only one, and that's a very poor one."
Mr. Dawbarn felt a mental qualm, for ho
knew what was coming.
" What's that ?"
" You'll,be angry with me, Philip, if I tell
you."
" Angry, my dear 4 No, no, not a bit,"
add the father.
" You know what I mean."
The banker sighed.
"Yee, I do," replied the mother. "If Lu
cy could see or hear of that young man, I be
lieVe she would recover. I'm :sure it would
do her good."
There was a long 'pause. Mr. Dawburn
groaned in spirit, but he felt that his wife was
right.
"I had such better views for her," groaned
the banker.
"Yes, my dear, I know you had," said the
wife, pressing his hand.
" Lord Landriga was most particular in his
attentions, and Sir Theophilus . Hawdon abso
lutely spoke to me about her."
"I know he did," said the acquiescent wife.
"Think of Lucy being Lady Landringn, or
Lady Ilawdon I County people—and then
of her being Mrs. —, oh I"
" It's a sad thing, dear, but what can we
do now that she's so ill—poor thing I And if
we could save her life—"
Mr. Daly barn turned in the bed. "I'll ask
Topham about it to-morrow." Topham was
the doctor. "I'll hear his opinion."
" have asked him," said the mother, "and
he agrees with me."
" Itut hew can it be done !" asked the ban
ker, turning again restlessly. " I can't ask
the feliow to marry my daughter."
" No, but you can offer him a situation in
the bank."
" Suppose he refuses."
" lle won't refuse."
" But how can I find hint I Where is he ?"
" In America," answered Mrs. Dawbarn.
" America !" repeated the banker, sitting
up in bed. "Then bow the deuce Is he to be
got at ?"
Advertise for him. If he will apply to
So-and-so, he will hear something to his ad
vantage. I naked Dr. 'Popham's advice about
al! that."
" Advertising is not respectable," said the
banker; to which his wife made no reply but
the word "Lucy."
II Besides," continued Mrs. Dawburn, after
a short pause, "if you don't like advertising.
send somebody after him to find where he is."
" Send somebody ! Send who I"
" Oh, that Mr. Studden ; he's doing noth
ing, and I dare say will be glad of the job."
" I suppose that Topham advised that, too."
"Yes, he did."
" I thought I recognized Topham's interest
in that young vagabond. I suppose you and
he have talked this matter over now some
time."
"I and Mr. Studden ?"
"No, you and Topham,"
lt y 09 .11
"And you've arrang e ed it all between you ?"
" Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me this before, Je
mima?"
" I was afraid."
" Afraid I Afraid of what ?"
"Of you."
"Of me, Jemima ? Don't you think I love
my child as well as you ?"
" I'm sure you do ; but you men don't un
derstand some things:"
"But Topham's a man,'.' remarked the puz
zled banker.
"But, then, lie's a doctor," was the reply
Mr. Dawbarn groaned inwardly, as °possi
ble coronet presented itself to his mind's eye
—and then faded away. "I suppose you
must have it your own way," he said.
"May I, Philip ?" asked his wife, putting
her arm around his neck for a second time.
•• Yes, 1 Deneve you're In the right. '
won't the shock—the surprise hurt her?"
" I'll answer for that. May I tell her to
morrow ?"
`• Yes," sighed the vanquished father.
" Bless you, Philip," said the good mother,
and she kissed her partner, and both wife and
husband slept the sleep of the Just.
=9
" Lucy, my dear," said Mrs. llawbarn the
next morning, as she entered the Invalid's
chamber, " I and papa have been talking
about you." •
" Yes, minima," said Lucy, with lan . eri
dent want of interest in the subject.
"And what do you think he says?"
" Don't know, mamma."
" He's going to make seine alterations in
the bank."
"Oh, indeed I" Miss Lucy had not the
smallest Solicitude about the bank.
"And what else do you think?"
"Oh, mansion, I'ni so tired !" said Lucy,
peevishly.
" What else do you think he means to do ?"
continued Mrs. Dawbarn, bending her mat
ronly head over her daughter's face, and pour
ing into her ear words that made the girl flush
scarlet and her eyes flash.
"Oh,•mamma, it can't be true?"
" My love, could I deceive you ?"
" No, dear mamma, no ; but, oh, is it true.
Kiss me, mamma deer. I am so happy and
so thankful and—and in a little time, when
I've thought over how happy I am, papa may
come in, and I'll kiss him and thank him, and
tell him how grateful I am, too, and—" but
poor Lucy could go no further, and sobbed
'and wept with delight.
" My darling, kiss me now," said her fath
er, advancing from the door behind which lie
had watched the effect of the news. "I'll do
anything to make you happy—anything."
"Oh, papa! My own papa!" •
My darling, you'll love me now again as
you used. to do—won't you? and—and—
there's Mr. Bob Studden's knock. I'll send
that fellow.off to New York—l mean to Liv
erpool—this very nights." tic , i
Mr. Bob Studden was waiting in thedining
room. Ile was so changed in face, amiss, ap
pearance, and manner, that, when Mr. Daw
barn saw him, he started, and said :
" Are you Mr. Robert Studden ?"
"Yes, Mr. Dawbarn, it's me," said the fa•
miliar voice. "I dare say you find me
changed. Ido myself."
Ile was, indeed altered. In place of the
spink, span, new, natty, dressy, shiny, oily,
varnished Bob, the delight of bar-maids, and
the envy of grooms, stood a shabby, cordu•
roy-trousered, waistcoatless vagabond, smell
ing of straw and porter. Mr. Dawbarn hesi
tated before he asked bins to sit down.
"I gOt your letter, sir," sold Bob, whose
manner was as deferential as his clothes were
shabby, "and came on immediately. Sorry
I couldn't present myself more decently ; but
such is fate."
What are you doing now, Mr. Stridden
asked the banker.
" At present, sir, sir," replied Bob, " I am
stable man at the Cock and Bottle."
"Good gracious !"
" It's not what I could wish, sir ; but Its bet•
er than nothing. I'm sorry N, say I'm only em
ployed thero two clays a week—Mondays and
market days ; but still, what with odd jobs, I
manage to grub on."
Mr. Dawbarn looked at the ex-betting
man's face and wistful eyes, and asked him if
he would take e glass of wine.
Bob shot a quick glance, and said that ho
would ; and in the keen look Mr. Dawbarut
read hunger.
" The sherry," said the banker to a ser
vant; "and bring lunch--aome cold roast
beef—and—you. know; and, when we've
lunched, Mr. Studden, we'll talk business."
Mr. Btudden'e performance upon the beef
was so extraordinary, that the banker feared
he would commit Involuntary suicide. It was
with a feeling of Intense relief that he saw
prolonged, that Mr. Dawbarn feared lest the
suffocation the beef had left unaccomplished
should be effected by the Stilton. .
n
"Not any ore, sir; thank you," answer
ed Bob to hi host's complimentary question.
" I never to ted such cheese, and, as for the
beef, it's be tlful. I haven't tasted animal
food for these ten days. For red herring is
not animal food any more than a lump of salt
is, and I'm sick of red herrings. Sdak 'ens in
as much hot water as you like, they always
taste of lucifers—perhaps because they lie
next to 'em in the shop. I may thank you.
Mr. Dawbarn, for a meal' such as I haven't
had for—for"
This wine Mr. Studdon had drunk seemed
to have got into his head, and from his head
into his eyes. Men are strango creatures—
and even betting-men are men—And, whether
it was the memory of by-gone days, or the
wine, or the bread, or the butter, or the beef,
or the cheese, that affected him, cannot be as
certained ; but One of these causes, or some
of them, or all, caused Bob Studden to lay
his head upon his knees, and to cry copiously.
He then began accusing himself, and saying
that he was a bad lot ; that he was miserable,
and repented ; that his life was an hourly curse
to him ; that he knew lie had brought it all
upon himself; that all his friends had deserted
him, particularly those who had shared his
hospitality, and even his money, when he was
prosperous ; that the man who owed his rise
in life to bins, and whom he had assisted at a
crisis, had behaved to him with an ingratitude
that stung him to the soul ; that he was half
starved,' and hod no bed but in the,stable ;
that he was ruined—ruined—and had no hope.
When the poor, broken-down gamester had
exhausted himself, the banker began. Ile
told bins that he (the hanker) had been ad
vised to offer bins (Studdon) employ:nein, be
cause he knew him to be intelligent, and hoped
that his past sufferings had been a warning to
him for the future; that the business' he
wished to employ him on was difficult
and delicate—being no less than to go to New
York, and from there to wherever else it
might be necessary to travel, in search of Mr.
Munro ; that money would be provided and
letters furnished him, and that he was required
to start for Liverpool that very night ; that it
was hoped he would not lightly give up a
chance that offered him redemption for the
past, and a fine prospect for the future.
" I'll do it ! I'll do it !" said Bob, rising,
and grasping the banker's hand ; "and God
bless you, Mr. Dawbarn, for giving a poor
outcast devil like me the chance. I'll not de
ceive you, sir; if I do—
" Hush, hush, Mr. Studden."
" You'll make a man of me, sir—a mns !
I'll be as true as steel. I'll not bet—not on
the best horse that was ever foaled. To.night,
sir, I'll start this minute, barefoot, if you
wished it. I've got a decent suit of cloths in
pawn, sir, quite good enough for the likes of
me. I'll be faithful and true, sir, and—and
—God bless you, sir—and—and—"
Here Bob broke down again, and even stiff
Mr. Dawbarn was compelled to use his cam
bric handkerchief, as Mr. Studden used his
ragged sleeve. Bob was furnished with let
ters; among them was one froniMr. Daw
barn addressed to Munro, which enclosed a
note from Lucy, which contained only these
words, written in a large, trembling hand ;
" Conic back to me ! oh, come back to me,
my dear and soon, if you would sec me again
upon Lids earth, - . • -
" our own
A few hours after Bob was seated on the
roof of the nlght•coach, and as It rattled past
the banker's house he saw a light in Lucy's
chamber. Although,the night was cold, the
window was thrown up, and a thin hand
waved a handkerchief.
CHAPTER :1
Two years elapsed, and there was no news
of the missing Mr. Munro. Letters arrived
frequently front different parts of America
from Mr. Bob Studden, who evidently found
his task to be more difficult than he had sup
posed. Ameriesi was a large continent, add
it was not so easy to find one particular man
upon it. Poor Lucy amused herself by read
ing books and perusing maps. She liked to
wonder it George were there, or there, and
what sort of a place it was. She arranged all
Mr. Bob Studden's letters of intelligence in
chronological order, and compared them with
the books and the maps,' and so traced his
progress. She always knew when an Ameri
can letter arrived, by an Instinct for which .
she was at a loss to account for herself; but
for all these sources'of consolation, for all her
father's and mother's solicitude, she grew
weaker and weaker. She took no air but in
an invalid chair. Her father walked by her
side grave:and :dejected. Stealthy shadows
took possession of the banker's house. They
flitted on the windows, lingered on the stair
cases, and hung about the passages ; and the
good folks of Bramlingdon looked sad as they
passed the banker's, over which, as over those
it contained, there lung the sanctity of a
great sorrow.
TWO long years, and two long, long months
Lucy waited and hoped, each day her pale
cheek growing paler, and her light form
lighter, and toward Cliristmas she was unable
to be lifted from her bed. Dr. Topham said
that lie had exhausted the resources of his sci
ence ; and when the poor girl turned feverish
ly, and, with a slight access of delirium, asked
for the fiftieth time if there was no news, the
doctor beckoned the banker and his wife from
the sick-room, and said :
" I've an idea ! This cannot last long—she
must be quieted somehow. She keeps asking
for news ; now news from America would
quiet her, and she might sleep."
"We have no news," said the single-minded
banker.
"No," replied: the [doctor, "but we can
make some."
" Make some r 11P
" Fabricate it—lnvent it. 'Don't you see?"
"Oh, doctor I" remarked the tearful moth
er, "to deceive a poor creature on the thres
hold of death !"
"To snatch her from death," said Dr. Top
ham. "It must be done. It is the butt
chance. We must Write a letter front Studden
this ♦cry night." _
"But—but—but—it is forgery !" stammered
the banker.
"Besides," said - . Mrs. Dawbarn, "Lucy
knows Mr. Studden's hand, and always ex
amines the envelopes."
"Then," said the doctor, "we must do it
by telegraph."
„ 'telegraph !"
" Yes. In a few minutes you will receive
a telegram from Mr. Bob Studden, saying that
he has just arrived at Liverpool with—with a
companion."
" Who'll send it ?"
" I will," said the doctor.
" But when—when she finds that Studden
is not in England—what then ?
" We must think of something else," said
the undaunted Tophatn. " The case is des
perate, and something desperate miist be tried.
Go and talk to her,
.Mrs. Dawbarn, and I'll
send the telegram."
With a strong feeling of conscious guilt Mr.
and Mrs. Dawbarn put into their daughter's
hand a telegram containing the following
words :
" From Robert Studden, Adolphl Hotel Ltyer
pool, to Charles Dawbarn Bramlin I don.
ROBERT IREDELL, JR.,
lPlain anb ,ffrincLi fob
No. 45 EAST HAMILTON STREET,
I
ELEGANT PRINTINCI
LATEbT STYLES
Stamped Cheeks, Cards , Circular., Paper 13 0 0 1 r.r.. Connii
tution. and B- Law! School Catalogrieo,_ Bill Beads
Envelope., Latter L eads Bills or'Lading, Wag'
Tags and Shipping Card., Poitiers of any
alga, etc., etc., Printed at Short NOUN,.
NO. 6.
news of Mr. M. ' I hope to be in Bramling-
don by Thursday."
Lucy read the telegram, end sat up In her
bed.
" He's come, mamma," she said, and her
eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed. "He
landed in England this morning—l felt he
did—about nine o'clocl—. He will be here
soon—George will—iery soon—very soon.
Mamma, please tell Eliza to put out my lilac
frock. Ile liked lilac—and to come and do
my hair—and—and—and—tell Eliza to come
to me—and I can tell her what I want myself."
The father and mother exchanged glances
that said, "Here is the consequence of our
deception. What can be done next f"' The
thought hnd hardly been interchanged before
a smart rap was heard at the street door, and
a servant carat in with another telegraphic
dispatch, which ran thus :
" From It. Studden, Adelphi Hotel, Liver
pool, to C. Dawbarn, Hramlingdon.
"Just arrived here, with Mr. Munro.
Shall start by night-train, leaving here nt 1.30.
M. and self will be at Brnmlingdon to-mor
row. Telegraph back."
" How absurd of Topham to send two tele
grams !" said Mr. Dawbarn, when he and(his
wife were alone, ." as if one would not bring
mischief enough. He must be mad."
Dr. Topham entered the house, and inquired
how his plan had succeeded.
" Oh, Lucy is very much delighted and
agitated," answered Lucy's father. " What
we shall do with her when she finds the news
not true Ido not know. But, Topham, why
the deuce (lid you send lire telegrams ?"
" Two !" echoed Topham. " I only sent
one."
"Yes yott did."
"No, I didn't."
" Yes you did. Here It is."
The doctor looked at the second telegram,
and said : "I didn't send this."
'• NO ! Who then ?"
"By JoVe I lie did—Studden, 1. menu..
Dawbarn, he's come—he's come I I only an
ticipated the truth. It was a medical inspira
tion—and my patient will recover."
Mr. llawbarn lost no time in telegraphing
back to Liverpool. • At Lucy's express' desire
Mr, Studden was instructed to telegraph at
every station, that she might know how much
nearer and nearer her George was to her.
The telegraph boys were up the whole night,
and Lucy kept the telegrams and read them
until she fell fast asleep.
When she awoke she found herself unable
to rise, so resolved to receive her future hus
band in state ; and when she had looked in
the mirror she begged her mamma in a whis
per to let her have some'Vouge—" not to make
me look better, but for fear my pale, white,
white checks should frighten George."
The heavy hours flew by. George arrived,
and was shown up stairs to his faithful, con
stant mistress ; and the servants in the kitchen
held great jubilee, and there was sweetheart
ing below stairs as well as above.
Mr. Dawbarn found Mr. Bob Studden quite
nn American—according to the notion of
Americans imbibed by Englishmen a few
months resident in the New World. He wore
a " goatee" .beard, square-toed boots,. and
loud trousers and cravat. Ile addressed Mr.
Dawbarn as " Colonel," and assumed a man
ner that savored equally of the quarter-deck
and the counter—half pirate, half bagman.
"As I advertised you, colonel," ho ex
plained, "in the various letters In the :various
diggings Where I fixed my temporary Imeatioo
when I set foot in New York, I could find
small trace of G. Munro ; but I followed up
that trace, and dogged eternally wherever he
be had made tracks. At last I lost him, and I
was near thinkin' twas done holler—yes, sir
—and do you know why I thought I was done
holler 1 Ire changed his name, and what his
last occupation was I could not discover.
However, I traveled and traveled on ; and
how d'ye think, and t'Vhar d'ye think, colonel,
I found him •ut at last?"
" I don't know."
"
"It was quite by accident—it was. I
thought I'd heard of him in Detroit, hat 1
couldn't find him in Detroit ; and I was pm'
away by the ,cars on the following sun-up.
Not knowing what to do with myself till
roosting time, I strolled into the museum—
that is—that was a theatre then. The tirst
man I . see upon the stage was G. Munro.
dressed like a citizen, in coat, vest, and pants,
or perhaps I should not have known him. I
hailed him, and we started olf that very night.
We traveled quicker than post, or I should
have written. I should have diagnosed him
before, but tlottrack was cold, because lie had
changed his name, and gone upon the stage
—a fact that I have not munitioned to any one
but you, not• do I intend to du—the stage not
being considered by the general as buziness•
Lucy wits soon veil out again in the invalid
chair ; but her father no longer walked by her
side. Ile was replaced by Mr. Munro, who
usually propelled it himself. Within eighteen
months the young couple were married, and
sonic time after George was made it partner in
the. bank. Mr. Robert Studden, by the as
sistance of his patron, emigrated to .+Aistralia,
where he drit : es a thriving business in horses.
Before lie sailed he spent Um Christmas -Day
with the bridge and bridegroom. And though
our tale ends happily with marriage and dowry
as novels and plays should, it Is not• for that
reason a fiction, but a true story of true love.
Mr.
THE MEELINO OF THE AL:TIMM -
C--, a gentieman who has juid published
his first attempt at authorship, which met
with remarkable success, was, shortly after,
met by a seedy-looking individual in the
Queen's Hotel, in Toronto. The latter ex
tended his hand, and, in a traglc, manner, ex
claimed, " Allow me, sir, to welcome you to
our ranks—the ranks of authorship."
The peculiar appearance of the individual
rather amused Mr. C—, and he replied,
"Thank you, sir; but may I venture to ask
who you arc and what work bears your
name'!"
" , Certainly, sir. Italie you over heard of
Tennyson, the Poet Laureate Y'
" Yes," said Mr.
"Well, I ant not he. But hare you ever
heard of Longfellow ?"
" Yes, but I have never seen him. • Surely
you are not Longfellow
"No, I ant not he."
"Then, who the dickens are you ?"
"Ah ! there. have you ever heard of
Charles Dickens?"
12M12=
Dichenb
"No, 'sir—l am neither Tennyson, Longfel•
low, nor Dickens; but sir, I, the individual
who stands prominently before you in the
noble person of a man—l, sir, am--"
" Well, sir, who are you, and of, what are
you the author."
"I, sir, am Jonathan Ezeklah Washington
Jefferson Piggleton, and I am the celebrated
author of a recipe for taking grease spots, tar,
oil, and all stains out of cloth, wood, marble,
carpets, etc., etc., and which I will be most
happy to sell you,. or any other gentleman
who now looks upon me, for the small smii of
twenty cents I"
Mr. C—collapsed.
THE new Lord Mayor of London Is a typo
founder. Romulus was a founder also, but
lila Une •as the oe an•- • ; P.
,ALLSNIVA'N, Pd
NEW DESIGNS