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f D. A. juimalp, lUZIOR AND PROPRIETOR.
YOL. %V 1
•41. Trait FOR NEAL.
. 102011181 W. Emir
"Mers'so4l Manure live In brass; their virtues
W. write in water."—f3sac
~Brektisthes Ind above thee," Neal,
t, 4i : eerie Wei *se twine;
*MIMI elind death a casket seal
With richer gems than thine. •
There are ihousands who regret thee,
Who only knew thy name;
„ Bat mere, who'll ne'er forget thee,
Withlkisndship's holier claim.
We'll miss thy graphic sketch, Neal.
Drawn with such master art ;
But more we'll miss thyself, Neal,—
All gentleness of heart.
Associate with heusebold mirth.
We long bare held thee dear,
For thou hut given laughter birth,
Where now thou bring'st a tear.
Brief be the wards above thee, Neal,
That chronicle thy fall;
For all who knew, did love thee, Neel,
As, living, thou didst all.
And drooping heavily with sorrow,—
As Bowers without the sun,
We'll miss thee, on tech morrow,
-rill we follote:-.-one by one.
LITTLE MOLLY WHITE
• We have our excitement at Alderbrook,
as well as in your great Babel of 'brother
ly love.' (love like that of the first broth
ers, I have heard it insinuated,) but the
doctrine of cause and effect has a slight
twist-about between the two places, which
might puzzle a philosopher. In your great
city a great cause produces a small effect;
in our small village a small cause produces
a great effect. Does a barn or a black
smith's shop take fire at Aldeibrook, the
whole village. men, women and children,
are up and out; and it furnishes matter
for conversation at every tea-party during
a year, at least. Wiih you, a whole street
may burn down, while you lay quietly
snoozing in your bedsor mentallydennunle
'that noisy engine,' between maps; and in
less than a week the-whole affair passes
from lite minds of all but the sufferers.—
You may see a dozen hearses move by
in one day, and never be sobered by it;
is there a death in our village, the shadow
falls on every hearthstone, and a long sol
emn train of weeping mourners (the mour
ning town) leave their various avocations
And amusements, and go to lay the sleeper
in the dust. Oh ; let me die in the coun
try, where I shall not fall like the single
leaf in the forest. unheeded, where those
who love me need not mask their hearts
to meet the careless multitude, and strive
as a duty to forget, Bury the in the collo-
Jrv.amid the prayers of the good and tears
of theloving; not in the dark. damp vault.
away from the sweet-seenteil sir an d the
cheerful sunshine. hut its the field, among
the dowers I loved and cherished while
"If around my place of sleep
'rise friends I loved should route to weep,
They might not haste to go;
*toll airs and song. and light, and bloom.
Shweld keep them lingering by n.y tomb."
But to return to our contrasts. A ruf
fian meets a stranger in a dark alley, and
stabs him to die heart for the sake of pelf;
another whips his wife to death, or per
haps butchers the' whole family. The
lawyers and paragraphists are hereby fur
nished with employment, for which they
ate wfvotinse thankful, and, except in ex
treme cases. no one else cares. It is quite
different with us. A drunken Indian mur
dered a wlnte man, at Alderhrook some
twenty years ago, and paid the penalty of
his edam near the foot of the slope,'at the
west end of . , the village, while thousands
on thousands stood gaping at the terrible
speciaele. This isle, whispered to inc in
the dark, furnished one of the gloomy vi
sions which used to haunt my childhood ;
and I would as soon hare taken the trip
that Orpheus did, as go within a quarter of
a mileof. , the spot where old Antoine was
hung.' The sante story, in ell its horrible,
40,r0.4 to Li, iqday repeated andke-repeath
id )5 , many a gossip of our villerie ; while
jaws tirispV• dud:eyes island out with terror,
and every stirring lest or quivering shadow
cautes a start of alarm.; for it is
the tnnibled ghost - of old A ntoide still walks
Upend dOwn the forests of Alderbrook.—
With yoU picked pockets are such every
day and every hour things, as to excite no
attention at all, except, perhaps, a laugh,
now and then, *hen the feat has been per
formed with unusual adroitness; but if an
axe disappear from a door at Alderbrook,
•or a couple of ,yarde , of linen are taken
.front the graieln the night time. the whole
village is in commotion, and wonders, and
gnti et, and ingenious nods and filysteri.
one intiendoes coninitiite,,for a month at
lean, 'the ;staple of social intertiouree.—
You will not thinkitiange then, when I
?tell you of,liiii,Wonairrel exeitement that
'haAtikly Swept every, other topic under
'with us, for more than six months
It bud,beitusuipecteil fin along time theta
;band of thiasiaciisted 'somewhere' in our
• quiet couttY such Crimes are so unu
one likes to be the &it to
*itsitith"a n acne ; so, 'though every wash
er'woman' PUl:he *etlinen under lock and
key and amble" were double
[Waked; and 'bop" dclubleguarded, the ears.
fit 'inns. only shook their heads mysteri
4eily, el though something lay at the both
'tom of their knowledge, wbieh they might
ctell, but thahherwers too generous.while
.0111ereicouted the ids - Vet county's
,ping. such ,rogues. At last:ihtiVisieer,
eollii,..whwhad lost so an uncomfortable
doggie, began to speak flare plainly, and
• incredulity wavered. Finally, one night
ittltterds!the latter end of last May, a farm-
WV*. iN the neighborhood was fired, obvi.
ostilyk(ilust it, it was obvious when too
late) for the 'impose of drawing away the
villigereowbile the principal shop in Al
derittankh-rfes' despoiLed of its moat value
, bis goad". litich a daring deed ! said ev.
:T,kcily,•• AA was now supposed that the
iny must have bean carried on for years,
and many Per•ous, who like a large story,
oissisted that the band consisted of at least
an t riat*n. There had not beau such an
eattiteesent here since the execution of
poor old Antoine, One man was arrested
iluippicion, and flattered and threatened
by turns, in the hope of bringing him to
amtfess. At last he promised to do this,
and betray his associates, provided be could
he assured of his own safety. This was
the latest news that reached us one even
ing toward midnight, and so we concluded
to pillow our curiosity until morning.
"They have diskivered the robbers, at
lut." said old Uncle Felix Graw, hurry
ing all out of breath into our breakfast par
lur, and throwing his ungainly figure into
one chair while he stretched his long legs
to another. "They have diskivered the
robbers, neighbor Forrester, every one on
Down went forks, and up went eye
brows in a twinkling, and old Uncle Felix
was 'the focus of all regards, much to the
detriment of the smoking muffins which
Nancy had just placed on the table.
What! now ! who are they, Uncle Fe
lix t Nobody belonging to Alderbrook, I
uNot exactly, though the village has joet
escaped by the akin of the teeth—Jem
White is in for it."
"What ! that scape-grace of a son of
honest Jacky f Poor old fellow this will
be worse for him thin digging in the mud,
with the 4rheumatis' in his shoulder. 7
"The old man never has had very corn 7
fortable times with Jem," said Uncle PC
liz. "He is the laziest fellow this side of
purgatory, but I never thought he would
be caught in such a sorry piece of business
as this. They say it will go hard with
the rascals—burglary and arson both."
"The old story of idleness and crime.—
Poor Jacky, I pity him."
"Every body pities him ; and for one, if
I could catch Jem White, I'd give hini •
thrashing that he wouldn't forget when he
was grey, and let him go, the scoundrel!
for his futher'sgtake.",
"Then he has not been taken 1"
"No, hut there is no doubt he will be.
Dick Holman, (the cringing serpent! I
could pound him to pommice-stone, for I
have no idea but he druv on the whole lot,)
Dick Holman has blabbed, turned state's
evidence, to save himself, and exposed the
whole of 'ern. Great good tvill the state
get from such a rascally knave as he is ;
and a great Ininor is it to the laws to pay
a premium for such abominable sneaking
meanness. I woultin't mind to see the
rest in Iron wristbands, (barring Jemmy
White, for his father's sake,) but Dick
Holman, the mean, cowardly villain ! hang
ing is too good for him."
"How many Wave they taken '•
"Three last night. Dick I lolman twill
ed them to hide and so betrayed them.—
One has been traced as far as Albany, and
:mother to Rochester. They will get clear
I dare say; hut Ism White has skulked
away by himself, and nobody . knows
where he is. There were only seven on
"Do you know where White was last
"lie was sneaking about Saturday eve
ning—he even had the barefacedness to go
inks Willard's grocery, and get a glass of
grog. Some pretend to be sure that they
saw him yesterday, but folks make a thou
sand mistakes in such cases ; but at any
rate it is pretty certain he must be some.
where in the neighborhooilt yet. The old
"Sun" press worked hard. I tell you, last
night ; and, before this time, the handbills
are scattered far and wide, so that he can't
get away. And I wouldn't give an oat
straw fur his hiding-place. with Dick Hol
man to scent bim out. He was prowling
about after him before sunrise this morn-
Mg. and trust him for a blood-hound any
day. Ugh ! if they should let such a chap
us that go scot-free, I, for one, should rath
er Fancy speaking to Judge Lynch aboutit."
! No wonder that honest Sam G raw should
he exasperated against the traitorous knave,
who after leading all the idle young fellows
that would listen to him, into iniquity,
turned deliberately about, and, to save him
' self, delivered his victims into the hands
of justice. Dick Holman had been for
years the pest of the neigborhood--one of
those dirty, cringing, plausible villains,
whom every body despises, hut upon whom
it is difficult to fix any crime. When,
however, it was discovered that r regular
system of robbeiy had been carrieß on
throughout the country; probably for neve
rid years, suspicion busied herself at once
with the name of Dick Holman ; and he
fore lie had time to concoct any plan for
escape, before he even knew himself sus
pected, he was seised and broughthy means
of threats and promises to divulge all he
knew. And a more rotten-hearted traitor
never existed; 'for now that his own pre
cious person was in danger there was no
indignity to which he would not submit,,
and no act in which he would not gladly
engage, (even to hunting for his most re
luctant pupil, poor Jemmy White,) in (ri
der to buy himself consideration. As for
young White, he received but little sym
' pathyexcept on his father's account, but old
honest Jacky wee, in his way, a great fa.
vorite at Alderbrook. There was seercely
a young man in the village for whom he ,
had not conjured whistles out of a slip of
bass wood, in days gone,usq Ind scarce
an old one but gored him, poverty-stricken
as helaitit, - loins - generous neighborly turn.
'Then: it was from honest Jacky that we
always learned where . the black-berries
grew thickest; and he brought wild-wood
plans; for our gardens, and supplied, the
old ladies with winter greens, and sweet
flag roots to 11111013 h of a Sunday. But it
was scarce these little riots which made
old Jacky White so universally 'respected.
He was the kindest and 'Maples' of old
Men, kind to man and beast; and if but a
worm lay labia path be Would , treadaaide,
and let the reptile. live. Tod, toil, toil,
from morning till night and from year to
year,—toil, toil * toil, was the lot of honest
Jacky; but not a word .of complaint ever
escaped front his lips ; he was contented
and cheerful, and scrupulously honest.—
Fortune had treated bun most scurvily ;
for, notwithstanding his patient, unremit
ting industry, he had never known at one
breakfast what should serve him fur the
next. After all, however, I do not know
as it is quite becoming for me to rail at
fortune, since he never did, and, moreover,
it is possible that the artless old man was
as much in the fault about the matter as
the partial and tickle goddess.
GETTYSBURG, PA. FRIDAY EVENING, AUGUST 27, 1847.
Days went by, and nothing was known
°Clammy Whits. ' So confident was ev
ery body of the impbesibility of his having
made hie escape, that parties were stillout
in search of him—and the seal of Dick
Holman was indefatigable. The villain
was still M a state of feverish excitement,
and the .storee were thronged with people
from the remotest pins of the town, who
flocked in to trade and hear the news.,,
I was out in my little back 4arden one
bright morning, spoiling the doings of the
wanton summer wind, which had had quite
a frolic among my treasures the night be
fore ; when old Bridget came to the door
on tiptoe, with her finger on her lip, and
her gowthsearce fullenotigh or rich enough
to make much of a wok, gathered np in
her hand. "Fanny; Fanny ! I st I" B ret
spoke in a suppressed whisper, showing
all her teeth in the operation, as though,
by drawing her lips far beck, she might
give the words egress with less noise.
"What now, Bridget?"
"Hush, Fanny , dear I 1" ad putting
the fore- fi nger of one h to her lip, she
beckoned with the other eking a motion
with the elbow joint v ' 'with like that
of a jack-knife with a s gat the back.
Bridget is always g secrets, and
shaking her head, eit king solemnly
wise, and finding - strange mysteries. which
to every body else are as clear as the sun
light ! 'so I may be pardoned if I did . witif
to tie up a sweat pea, and give three pretty
rose-buds a more desirable position among
the wet leaves.
' , Fanny. darling r was again breathed
from the opened doorway.
"Yes, Bridget !"
•Hush, dearest l 'it!" and Bridget beck
oned more earnestly than ever. There
was no resisting such importunity, so for
ward Fanny went, fully expecting to find
a chicken with two hearts, or a biscuit that
had hopped out of the oven mysteriously,
or (an every-day occurrence) a churn full
of cream that needed a horse-shoe in it.
“Loolv, Fanny, look ! isn't she pretty?”
Pretty ! Old Bridget has some taste at
any rate. Beautiful as a vision of Para
dise ! I held in my breath while gazing,
as my old nurse had done, and very proba
bly kept my lips out of its way precisely
in her fashion. There is always a shade
of grey in the passage leading to the kitch
en, and here, iii the somber light, sat alittle
child sleeping. One arm was straightened,
showing the pretty dimple at the elbow, the
fat little hand supporting her weight upon
the floor, while the other grasped. as though
by way of a balance, a basket of green let
tuce, which had wilted during her long
walk in the morning sun. The shoulder
of the supporting arm had slipped up from
the turn calico frock,and its polished white
ness contrasted beainifully with the sun
cmUtvwnotl lulsook. 'rho light et oillsan hair
lay in waves, pushed far back from her
round forehead, and was gathered up into
a k not, ,balf curls, half tangles, behind, pro
bably to keep it out of her way ; but care
less as it was disposed of, it could scarce
have been as beautiful in any other fashion.
Dim as the light was, a beam had contri
ved to find its way to the curve of her
head, and left a dash of brightness on it,
no ill omen to the-wearied little stranger.
Long lashes lay against the bright cheek
all sparkling in crystal ; for the tear that
could not climb over it, had turned the val
ley about the eye into a well—a very pretty
one for truth to lie in. The child had
probably wept herself to sleep; but her
little spirit had gone to a land of brighter
things, for the smile that curved her beau
tiful lips had none of the premature sad
ness bathing the shut t eye-lids. There
were broad gaps in the clumsy shoes that
lay beside her, forahe had relieved herself
of the incumbrance, and her chubby little
feet, stained with the purple flowers which
she had crushed in her morning's ramble,
were cooling thmselves against the bare'
"It is nobody but little Molly White,
Miss," said Nancy, coming forward, with
the pot-lid in her hand. Nancy's voice is
nono of the softest, and again Bridget's
teeth and tongue were put in requisition,
and her lips. parted to emit the expostula
tory •'et, !
4.,1nd who is little Molly White !"
"Don't you remember Molly White,
who used to go tripping by every day last
summer, as merry as a bird, to sell black
berries to the villagers, never seeming tired.
though she had to walk three miles across
the woods, and pick her berries besides—
.poor thing ! But I remember now it was
when you were in the city. at your Unele
Forrester's, , you know ; for you didn't
come home till the plums were all gone, and
the leayes were pretty much off the trees."
«Does she belong in any way to old
Jacky White. who lives in the woods ba
yond the hill !"
"The very same, Miss. Old Jacky's
last wife was a young woman, and sort of
delicate like. and she died, poor thing. when
Molly was but little more than a baby.—
She always said though that she didn't
suifotr nor want for any thing. , for the chil
dren were all amazing goa to her; and
dein, WI an - he is. noW, nursed her , almost
as carefully , as a woman. Pour thing!
she would feel sorrowful enough if she
knew what a dreadful •end he had come to, _
for ehe loved him as she did her Own bles
iel have sett pretty Molly Many a time
when stitrwana-baby. She seems heavy=
hearted etiongknow, , poor child! we must
try ,to cheer , her up.'
'Vs of nOY'use„Mies! she takes Jem's
misfortunes to heart terribly."
"Misfortune t But you are right. Nan
cy. . The vicious, though justice in the
shape of legal officers do not bunt them
down, are the unfortunate of this world."
Out conversation seemed to disturb the
sleeper, for suddenly her cheeks flushed,
her eye-lids worked convulsively, her
bright lips quivered like a I ittle bird sofright
coed as scarce to struggle for liberty, and
the pretty arm which supported her shook
beneath the weight.
"It seems cruel to wake her," said old
Bridget, compassionately. "This is a
sorry bad world for snob as she is, poor
The child seemed yet more agitated, and
tossed her f:►t round arms above her head,
while a broken sob came struggling forth,
uIPDARLESN AND FREE:.
and, in a voice laden with hisitiehe, she
exclaimed, "Yon shall not take him l it
wasn't he that did it."
"Molly I Molly I" exclaimed Nancy.
"Mother said we must love him when
her lips were cold, and I will. I will love
poor Jemmy. Yon shan't—oh, you shan't
take him away I"
"Molly ! Molly I" repeated Nancy,
more emphatically, and shaking the child's
"No, i will not tell ;_never—never—
"Molly White I Molly I" Nancy naiad
the child Whet hiet, who looked about her
a few momenta in a kind of tewildered
alarm, and diem burst into a passion of
tears, which nothing Wald intake.
Poor slifering litde one! that the
dregs which usuallj' await the sterner lip,
should be upon the briin of thy beaker I
that the drop which sparkles .on the sun.
face of life's bowl, should be deadened in
childhood's testi! the flowers which
crown it, concealing the strange mixture
for a little time from eyes like thine, fallen,
withered, deid I It was a bitter, bitter
draught tat presented thee by Pate, sweet
Molly White. What straw contrasts
does the world present I
bright, so beautiful. so replete with the ev
erywhere out-gushing spirit of joyousness.
and that poor little heart aching with such
misery u the guilty ever bring to those
who love them ! No wonder that old
Bridget and even Nancy, (blessings on
their kind souls 1) should be strangely
blinded by the gathering tears 'as they led
the child away. Throw me out, wretch.
ed and friendless, on the wide world, and I
am not sure but ! should creepto the kitch.'
en rather than the parlor, though I know
that generosity and sympathy are the in--
inheritance of no , one condition Tin life.
It was a glorious day in the beginning°
June. Beauty smiled up from the earth
—beauty bent to us from the bright sky—
beauty, a delicious, all-prevading . kind of
beauty, which often makes the spirit drunk
with happiness, shown out upod us every
where. It was not a day to hOwasted an
doors, when the balmy airs, thewarm wet
skies, and the quivering life-full foliage,
were all wooing without—and we have no
hot pavements to flash back thl light into
our faces, or cramped up streets, where
the air is stifled in sickliness before it
meets us, at Aldorhrook. The broad wa
vy meadow, spangled all over with bright
blossoms, is our magnificent thoroughfare,
and when the sun shines too brilliantly
the brave old trees rear for us a rare cano
py in the forests. The little wizard stream,
leaping and dancing over the rocks, to
drop itself in to' the brook at the foot of the
hill, and the long cool shadows lying on
the grass beside the trees, eacithad a mag
ic in them which way quite iirciolastable.
So I went out, and sauntered dreamily a
' down the meadow, with half shut eyesaml
a delicious sense of pleasure stealing over
me, at each pressure of my foot upon the
yielding carpet. Crossing the little log
bridge at the foot of the slope, I
picked my way among the alders on the
other side close by the marge of the stream.
Myriads of little pearl-white blossoms bent
their soft lips to the wave which bounded
to meet them; and side by side with them,
the double-bladed iris sent up its sword
shaped leaves, so ploudly as in its prime.
though the bare stalks which grew from
its centre were all stripped of their blos
soms. The queen of the meadow stood
up in its regal beauty, not far from the wa
ter's edge : further back the spotted lily
nodded gracefully on its curve stem, and
the crimson tufts of the balm-flower nest-
I led in clusters of green shrubberry ; while
the narrow leaf of the willow turned out
its silver lining, and the aspen quivered
tall over, lik e ' s loving heart blest with its
prayer above. Beyond, tier on tier, rose
galleries of green, with but a step between
the uppermost and heaven, all radiant in
the luxurioUs garniture of June. How
gloriouvand grand and full of life was ev
ery thing—and how my nature expanded
in the midst of it as it would embrace the
whole universe. I know there are mos.
meats on this side the grave when the
shackles of clay do really fall or, and our
spirits grow large, as though , they had
lookedinto the boundlessness of eternity,
and we lift a wing with the angles. But
we come back again dazzled and bewilder-
ed—for we are prisoners in s very little
eat, and too large a draught of Heaven .
now would not be good for us.. I dallied
long about the brook and on the verge of
the forest, seeing and dream ;,and then
I wandered on, now listeningthe joyous
song-gushes of the crazy-hearted little 'lob
o-link k now laughing at the anhis red iquir
rel. as his tiny briekseolored,botnnei Whis
ked fronif fence to tree ; and now gathering
handfuls of .the pale twee saluted wood-_
violets, which follow the first Otil children
of the spring. Then there, Were huge
banks of moss. of brown, anol,gnien, and
gold, all , richly wrought blether ao by
the lingers nge of bright lady-direr ; and more
elastic than the most grogeoUS fabrics of
the persiau hams, with , now and then a
little vine straggling overlhem.strung with
crimson berries • the sun bombing through
the closely interlaced branches above in
little gushes of light, which luivered as
they fell, awl vanished and cane again, as
coquettishly as the bright-thmated hum
ming -bird, which frolicked gracefully with
the pink blossoms of the azalio, in the hol
low beyond. These were interspersed
with little patches of wintergreen, tender
, and spicy, of which I of course secured a
plentiful supply ; and clusters d the snowy
monotropa appeared at the roots of trees,
clear and polished and pewl-like ; and
green ferns grew beside old logs, half
wreathed over with ivy—and every thing
there, from the golden mosscup to the
giant tree looking up into heaven, shared
my thoughts and love.
Then I went on, nett stooping to pull
from the dark loose soil the low shin roots
of the wild sarsaparilla, and close beside
them I discovered the nest oft darling lit
tle ground-bird, which flew amay and came
back again, fluttering about nest pleading
ly-, and so I left the graceful intocent, with
out even taking a peep at tht four speck
led eggs, which probably constituted its
The sun was quito low slim I drew
near the &Chen& wood, an immense
wilderness to Me sopth-east of Alderbrook,
bona lutimu t4f,gporternen than any one
else. Boma pokeriaih stoty of the Indian
days first gave rise to the name • and so
there ; was a superstition connected with it
which kept timid people (children, at
least,) aloof. Horeover,old Antoine cora
miued bis murder there, and it was more
than half suspected that, some of Sake
Gawsely's gold might be bidden among
thjagged rocks and *op guilty* of Bach.
em's wood. However that might be, the
mysterious proverb that "the fiecheso's
wood could bring no good," bid been quite
infficient to prevent my young het from
tempting the spirits of evil on t h e. other
side of the stump fence which willedit in.
But I felt some inclination now to !eke a
into the banned forest, and s;,:letil
ng the fantastical battier as I best migh t, I
sprang to a bank as mossy and as
bright with the sunshine as any we
bad on the other eider. The air was fresh
and pure, and there was a scent of' wild
flowers on it which made me feel quite
safe; for flowers always betraY the rip.
ante of angels. flo I wandered on mall
watching dreamily the sh . ors widish
were fast chasing away the sunlight, until
I began to suspect it quite time to return
home. It was really twilight, and I had
not teen the sun go down. ' •A few steps
firther only, - and - then 'I - *WMgar
but there was a pretty silvery: tinkle just
;head, which might lead to the lurking
place of a troop of &Mei. ' The lotted
proceeded from the selfsame little stream
which trips it over the rocks to the mutt of
Strawberry-hill; - ind comes daucing and
sparkling down the brook at the foot. It
was gurgling along quitegilyly - it the - bet
tom ofa chasm, so.dark chit as I knelt on
the crag above and leaned over, it was some
minutes before I could catch a glimpse of
the silver-voiced musician. The ravine
was exceedingly narrow, looking as though
the Sachem (who was probably a giant)
might have split it apart with an immense
hatchet ; hut the feat' was evidently per
formed a long time ago: for it was all mes
sed over, long wreaths of green 'flaunted
from little clefts on either side, and the
pretty blue-bell from the tip of its lithe
stem, nodded smilingly to its noisy neigh
bor among the pebbles. I wig rising to
go away, when a sound like the tread of
some light animal made me pause. It came
egain t and.then followed a scramblingnoltie
and a rustle like the bending of tinge la:
den with foliage; and I looked careful!) ,
about me, for I might not be quite pleased
with the company I should meet in the
Sachem's wood. This gorge must be ve
ry nearly in a line with - the haunted saw
mill, which is reported to be tenanted by
ius wan0d...g.r.44.1*-otel J.L.. t!, aissigig.
and who knows but the miser himself may
come out at dew-fall to look-after-his con-
coaled treasures. My view was partially
obstruked by a wild gooseberry bush, and
when I raised my head above it I saw, not
the troubled spirit of a dead old man, but
a beautiful child, standing on the point of
of a rock, and looking cautiously about her
as though fearful of being observed. It
was little Molly White, and
. 1 was about
calling to her , when, as though satisfied
with her scrutiny, she swung herself from
the rock, clinging by, her little fingers to
the jagged points, poised for a moment in
the air, and then dropped on the platform i
below. Here she again looked about her.
and I drew back my head, for I had had
time for a second thought, and I knew that
no trifling thing could bring die chilli to the
banned forest alone. • Beside, she carried
on her arm a basket evidently - well-laden,
which impeded her progress not a little,
and suspicion far from agreeable crept o
ver me as I again leaned my head over the
ledge. The child deicended ritlgthiegil
ity of a kitten ; and when at !geisha reach
ed the bottom, 6he looked earnestly up and
down the ravine, starting now - and - then,
stretching forward her little head,as though
fearful that the moving shadows might de
ceive her. As soon as she became satig-
Fled that she was not observed, she sent
out a low clear sound like a bird nota,
which was immediately answered . by • a
suppressed whistle. She sprang forward
and was met half-way by a man•who enlar
ged from the shadows of the rock just be
“Where on earth have you been stray
int, Moll t” he exclaimed, half arigrily.i—
-..11 have fed on nothing but ground-nuts and
beech leaves these two days, and I I
hope you have something palatable in your
basket. Does your arm ache, chicky 1--
This is a heavy load for such little hands
to carry, But where have you been? I
didn't knot' bat they had , nabbed you for
your good deedo, and meant to starve me
out. Bless me, Moll, how you tremble !"
"Oh, I have been so frightened, Jemmy.
Dick Holman suspects all about it"
"Curse Dick Holman!'
"Some of the other men have told how
I an to you the night that the officers
took them, and he thinks I know where
you are now. He said they would hang
me, Jemmy, if I wouldn't tell—will they
hang me 1"
The beautiful face was upturned with
such sweet , anxious meekness, that the
well-nigh hardened brother seemed touch
ed, and for a moment he did not reply.
"Will they hang me, Jemmy ?"
"No, Molly, no ! they will never harm
a hair of your head. But let me tell you,
chink, you mus'nt listen to ono word
from that devil incarnate, he will be hiring
you to betray me yet."
- "Dick Holman t Oh, no ! he can't hire
me. He took out a whole handful of dol
lars, but I wouldn't look at them, and h
said he would give me a new frock and a
pretty bonnet, like the village girls, but I
didn't answer him a word. It was then
he said—and he spoke dreadful, dreadful
words, Jemmy—he would have me hang.
ed. Do you think he can 1 I am sure he
will if he can. I was always afraid of
him, ho looks at me out of the corner of
his eye, and goes creeping about as light
ly as a cat, so that one never knows when
he is coming."
"Never fear, Moll, ho can't hurt You," ,
replied the brother, still swallowing down
the huge slices of meat like a Starved
only wish I had him again in
the plat‘e he was when I fished him up
from the bottom of the horse-pond—he
would biig one a while for daylight before
he should see it."
_ "Hang me if he wouldn't! That's what
a man gets by being good natured. Dick
Holman always pocketed two-thirds of the
Money, and never run any danger."
”Jemmy I Jemmy!" exclaimed the child
in sorrowful reproach. "You told me you
did n'tdo it ! You told me you never took
any money, and now—"
•And now I hay n't told you any differ
ent; little Miss Sanctimony, so don't run
Witty from me and leave me to starve."
"But you ought to tell me the truth, Jem
my—yOu know it would n't make me care
the less for you—though—oh ! it is a
dreadful thing to be a thief !"
"Well, you are not a thief, nor—nor I
,so save your !protons and—you
might hive brought me a little brandy,
The' child nt down on the moused trunk
of Mien tree, and'rnade no answer.
"Why_ o't you come yesterday ?"
curses o' Heaven
Truth does not require the oaths and
imPtecations of bad , men to be written
*ma, and if it did I could hardly give the
words of poor Jem White; for therein the
110jedift woods, amid the falling 811L1( . 0WR,
will own that the hoarse voice of that mis
erable man inspired me with so much ter
ror I could scarcely hear him. But I saw
the little girl rise slowly and sorrowfully
front her seat.
"JeMmy, I .cannot stay here, for I know
you ores bad, wicked and I sin afraid
"Afraid, Moll! ha, ha, hal' dines n good
one I you afraid! And you came over to
the log barn at midnight. when the officers
were out, w riga hair. A frat id r'
"You told' me thenyou didn't do it, Jam
my;ind lthougbi , Yliti didn't.' Oh it is a
dreadful thinit to be a,thief! Dreadful!
"Outt- , :M011y; chick; you wouldn't let
them take me, and me Up in a dark
priaon—StateP4M-nlem White inState'a
Prison! think :nri',l,l4ollr,
The child sank down upon the rocks and
sobbed •as though her little heart would
break, while her brother Worked more 'vo
raciously than ever et ~.the contents of the
"IT tell 'ee :Wolf," het at Isikt said,
you could coax up father to take me
home—can't you? Nobody would over
"No, Jemmy; it was father - who first
made me believe that you had - not spoken
truth to me. He said, too t last night, that
ifecml_ fin!! Ituulte r .wasld gins yRu
hot:teem in the 'hope 140 1t Ut,
"Gbcdl aigh'forgisod it 'wbuld
do me I Cuss it, Moll—"
"Jemmy!" exclaimed the child; starting
to her feet, and standing before MO with
more dignity than her beaut iful bright face
gave promise of, 9.ensray,l will not hear
another bad word from you. : Wfiatt lisvo
done for you may be wick ed , but I couldn't
help it, Mother told me ' o love you, When
her lips gainsi my. che e k Were Cold; and
I will bring you victuals and tell you if
hear you are in, danger, but you shall not
use those wicked words—l will
. not hear
"Bless me, Moll!' I have said nething to
make you Peke on so, and if you like it, you
may go and tell Dick H.olman where I am,
and get your smart frock and Sunday bon
net to say pie; teripttins lessons in. I
dare say they will tell you it is a fine thing
to send your brother to State Prison—a
a might fine thing. Moll.`and you will be a
little wonder among
"Yini shan't swear. at any rate, 4 .111 MY ;
for the great God who, sees eyery thing.
will angry with Yon', and will ict them
find when* yon are if you are so wicked.
'•I know you'are a good little child, Moll
—too good for that matter—so cease your
blubbering, chipky, and tell me how mat
ters are going on m the villagmand wheth
er Jesse Sivift or Ned Slornan have con
The child gat down and gave a circum
stantial account ofwhathnd occurred do ring
the few peat ds. and then added, "TheV
say that yeti will be taken before a week's
end, Jemmy, for they all seem •sore that
you havn't got away."
"Ahat they don't know what a nice lit
tle sister I have for a jailor. But you
must go now, for father will be missing
you, and then we shall have a pretty how
de-do. Scramblo back, chieky-pet, and
mind that you keep a sharp look-out on
Dick Holman, This is a jewel of a place,
but he might track you to it when you
hadn't a thought of him. Come to-morrow,
if you can, for the bread and meat will
scarce serve ins for breakfast. let alone the
lunch that I most take . sioce I have nothing
to do, before sleeping. You calculated-for
your own little stomach when you put it
up for Me."
"I brought all we had, Jemmy, and I
went without my own dinner and supper
to make it more."
"Well, you are a nice child, Moll, and I
won't do any thing to bother you. Come
to-morrow, I wont worry your pretty care
with a word of swearing. You are a dar
ling little jailor, and—there—good night,
He pressed his lips in the bright cheek
of the little girl, and held her for a moment
in his arms, then set her on a platform just
by his head, and watched her difficult as
cm till she again stood on the edge of the
"Safe," shouted little Molly White, at•
most gleefully, as she leaned for a moment
over the chasm. She was answered by a
whistle, and the pretty child clapped her
hands, as though she now lidt at liberty to
be happy once snore, and hounded sway.
She went only a few steps, however, and
then returned, and kneeling once more on
the twisted roots of a tall elm tree that.;
that grew upon the verge of u precipice
peered anxiously down the gorge. My
eyes involuntarily turned in the same
rection. It seemed to me at tirst as though
the shadows were strangely busy! then I
TWO DOLLARS PRA A4140.'
NEW SERIENO. 14.
saw them making regular strides up then
vine, and a faint sickly feeling crept over
me. so that I drew back my head, and clo
sed my eyes. When I looked again I saw
distinctly the figures of three men, one a
little in advance of the others, making their
I way up the dark gully of the Sachem's
woods. Would they pass by the hiding
place of Jem White, or had his hour eome
at last, and must that anxious littleswatcher
at the foot of the elm tree, look hopelessly
on ascene that would wring heryoungheart
with agony. Bright Molly seemed cud*
denly to have made a discovery, for she
uttered a iiiercing sit riek which rang through
I the gray forest with startling. wildnela, and
catching by the bough Which had before as:
slated her descent, she attempted again ter
swing herself to the first rocky platform:
I But, in her fright, the little hand missed
its grasp—the spring was made, and the
bright-eyed child was precipitated to the,
bottom of the gorge. Jemmy White" had,
heard the warning shriek, and rushed nut
in time to see the fall of his sister and eater
a glimpse of the traitor, Holman, lending
on the officers of justice, but a few rode
from hit lair. What. could he do 2 lid
was probably familiar with every secret
lurking-place in that immense tvilderneaft;
and night was coming on, so that it might
he no difficult thing to make his escape...*
At least his long limbs and hardy frame
warranted him the victory in a race, for
Dick Holman was a short clumsily built
man, and his coin pinions 'Would soon weary
chtniberingover the rocks. Jemmy White's
reflections seemed of the precise natnre di
mine ; for after throwining one glance over
his shoulder and another up the ravine, he
bounded forward, and sprang across the
body of his sister, touching, as lie went,
her little slivering arm with his foot. Surf*
denly the man's bold face was blanched,
he seemed to waver, and then casting an
other hurried glance behind hint, he made
an effort to go on, but his limbs refused
their office; a heavy groan, replete With
agony. en me upfront the depths of the gorge.
and Jemmy White paused, cowering over
the inanimate child as though the two had
been alone in the forest. The men came
up and laid their hands on his shoulders;'
but he did not look nt them, nor in any
way heed their presence; he only chafed
the hands of the little girl, and kissed her
foiehoad, and entreated her to open her
eyes, for her own brother Jetn was there,
and it would break his heart if she should
not speak to him. The two officers, with
.the delicacy which the heart teaches to the
rudest mon, stood back, but Dick Holman
still continued his grasp upon the shoulder
of the criminal, as though to assure his
companions that ho understood his mum
mery better than they did. Theacenelasted
how long I cannot say—it scorned to me
ages. Finally, one of the officers came
T....ward with coil of rime in his hand.'
and -intimated his intention to bind the pris
oner. Jemmy. White. rose from his crouch
ing posture to his knees; and looked up as
though vainly eutleavoring.to comprehend
the movements of the men , ; then he lifted
the precious burden at his feet to his bo.
tom, and clasped his arms about her close
ly as though afraid she might be forced
'L will gn with you," said he meekly,
with a dead hoart•nehe weizhing on every
word as it dropped painfully and sorrow.
fully and slowly from his lips. "I will go
with you, but don't bind me. It don't mat
ter what becomes of me now. I have killed
little IMolly. Stand oir. Did, Holmanl
take your hand from my shoulder, and
stand away! You made in do if ! I should
have been a decent man if von had kept
away from me, and poor Mory—Ay,stami
wr! it may not be Bali• for you too near!"
"We had boner hind him," said one 'a
the men, glancing at his companion Air ap
"No, no, leave me my arms for Malol
sake; and walk close beside nn• if you are
afraid. I wont try to run away. It's ne
use now—no use—no use."
Jemmy White's lips moved mechanical.,
ly, still repeating the hiSt words, and this
officer crammed the coil of rope into his.
pocket again, and moved on beside the sew
bered prisoner, notwithstanding the cau
tionary gestures and meaning glances of
That night the arrest of Jam White amt.
the dreadful accident which had befallen
his little sister, were the subjects of cunver•
satieu at every fire-side; and much soften.
ing of heart was there toward the wretched
prisoner. w hen it was known that he owed
his arrest to the humanity ,which was only
stifled, not dead within
When poor little Molly White opened
her bright eyes again she way in the cell
of a prison, for it would have been death
to the agonized hrother to have taken her
from him, and even honest Jacky, nottvithy
standing his stern, unwavering integrity.
and his abhorrence oldie slightest deviation
from it, had plead earnestly for this indul-.
gence. Besides Molly White mast be ta
ken care of somewhere at the expense of
that county, and there was no poor-house.
so Jem's prayer was gramcd.
W hen elle awoke to consciousness she'
looked earneetly into the face of her broths,.
who was leaning over her, bathing her taw
plea as tenderly as a mother could hive
done, and then glanced upon the gloomy
walls 'and scanty furniture of her sick.
"Where arc we.' bid they find you,
Jemmy?" she inquired—" Dick lirdsems
and those other men 1"
The mars rained over the bronzed cheeks
of the prisoner in torrents, and the child
wiped them away with her little dimpled
hands, whispering softy. .1 am ,sorry 1
called you s bad man, Jemmy."
"Bad, Molly ! Oh, 1 am very, very bad I"
sobbed the repentant crim inal.
...But you 'are sorry, Jemmy," end the
little arms were folded over the neck whieth
they had often clasped must lovingly before.
butt never with such touching tenthertisim:
“And so the angels love you 4learly,o* . dis
good bible says that they are gladder Orr
one man who is sorry for being wicked:'
than fora great many w hie never do 'row'
The angels love y ou : Jemmy, sad illics#o'
is en seri wow. r.•
..,She used to love me, and beg or Sol
L owe-Ledo es the lira -6S pop.