' ' .W IT MI IBS. f I ir Ml i I 9 d I "3 ' JSW
VOL. -3. NO. 40.
CLEARFIELD, PA., WEDNESDAY, MY 27, 1857.
; BY S. B. HOW.
t-.:.. : From th Hew Turk Ledger.
-r LINES. -
A distant lands beyond the ua,
When frionda go thenoe, draw bigh,
go Heaven, when friends havo hither gone,
Draws nearer from the sky.
And at those lands the dearer grow,
. When friends are long away.
Bo Heaven itaelf. through loved ones dead,
Grows dearer day by day.
p - Heaven Is not far from those who see
f. With the pure spirit's sight,
But near, and in tho very hearts
Of thoso who sco aright.
January, 1857. c. D. 8TCART.
THE ISLAND PRINCESS.
A Eomance cf the Old and New 'World.
DT EMMA I. E. . SOCTU WORTH.
Author of "The Lost Heiress,' "The Deserted Wife,"
"The Missing Bride," '-Retribution," ete.
CHAPTER I.
Alt INTERRCPTED WEDDRO.
- It was the first of May, the marriage day of
the Viscount Montressor of Montressor Castle,
Dorsetshire, and Estelle, only daughter and
heiress, ot Sir Parke Morclle, Ilyde II all, De
vonshire. - -
A glorious morning ! the cloudless Llue sky
smiled down upon the green hills and dewy
dales and deep woods of Devon ; aud the park
around the Hall was all alive and musical, with
the joyous songs of birds, and the merry
langhter of young men and maidens gathering
to celebrate their May-day festival, and to do
honor to the marriage of their laandlord's
daughter.
The elm shaded, winding avenue that led
from the highway to the house, was arched at
each terminus by a mammoth wreath of flow
er, and many were the carriages that passed
nuder them, on their way to assist at the wed
ding ; arid these contained only the brides
maids, and the nearest friends and relatives of
he iJioiiy,whose relationship or position gave
them the right to ulteiid the bride to church ;
for a still more numerous party had been in
vited to meet her at the altar. The villagers
and tenants, grouped about under the shade of
the great old trees, or wandering over the
green sward on cither side of the avenue,
watched those equipages as they rolled on,
commenting as nsual on such occasions.
- "Oh dear me ! the weddingers won't pass
till nearly twelve ! and here we are to wait
two mortal hours !" said a young girl to the
game keeper.
"Hush ! my darling look, hero comes his
Lordship's carriage, itself, just as sure as
you're the prettiest lass in the country."
It vat Lord Montressors carriage.
Early that morning a note from his affianced
bride had been put in his hands summoning
him to a private conference with her at the
Hall, before they should proceed to the
church. Surprised and filled with vague un
easiness, his lordship lost no time in obeying
the behest.
. Within the mcst secluded of her. suite of
Ticbly furnished apartments at the old Hall,
half-buried in.the depths of a cushioned chair,
reclined the bride expectant, in bridal array.
-' She was alone, her attendants having, by her
own desire, withdrawn.
EsfelloMorelleor "la belleEstelle," "Beau
tiful Stella," "tho Midnight Star" as, for her
resplendent dark beauty, she was poetically
named was at this time twenty-five years of
pge, and more lovely than a poet's or an art
it's ideal. Her form was of medium height,
and very slender, though we ll-rounded, with a
graceful head, over which fell rich masses of
jet-black silken ringlets, shading a lace of
pure, pale olive complexion with large mourn
iul dark eyes, habitually veiled by the long,
droopting lashes, and delicate, though fnll,
curved lips, ever pcrtiently closed as in silent
resignation. The prevailing expression of her
dark, brilliant countenance was a profound
melancholy.
The announcement of Miss Morelle's ap
proaching marriage with the Viscount Mon
tressor had created a profound sensation iu the
fashionable and aristocratic circles. A peer
less beauty, the only child and heiress of the
oldest, wealthiest and haughtiest baronet in
the West of England, her heart had been as
much tho object of aspiration to tho youthful
and ardent, as her hand and fortune had been
the end of desire to the mercenary and ambl
tious. At the early age of seven years, Estelle bad
been placed at one of the first-class female in
stitutions f learning at Paris, then as now,
considered among the very best of their kind
iff the world, and there had b'ren left to remain
until her sixtcentl' year, when the sudden and
calamitous breaking up of the institution, and
her own severe illness, had occasioned her re
moval. That illness had been attended with mark
ed changes in the constitution and temperament
of the young girt.
Estelle, previously the most careless, light
hearted and capricious of children, left her
chamber of convalescence a subdued, thought
ful, melancholy woman ! The laughing lips
of girlhood closed in patient sadness ; the
sparkling eyes sheathed their beams under
. long, shadowy lashes, now seldom lifted ; the
silvery, elastic voice, sank into deep and thril
ling tones; the free, glad motions were meas
ured and controlled.
She never entered another school, but com
pleted hei education under the best masters,
at home. To dissipate what was considered a
transient melancholy, her parents traveled with
her over Europe, pausing at each capital and
chief town, to show her all that was interesting
and instructive. But though their daughter
repaid their attentions with the sweetest grat
itude, and obeyed them with the gentlest do-
cility, she showed no interest in uic s3ib
Krpn And thoncrh evervwhere her extreme
beauty and sweetness of disposition, not less
than her fortune and position, drew around her
many friends ard admirers, fcsteue remains
alone in hrr isolated thonzhts and feelings.
Every most distinguished physician in Europe
had been consulted upon her case, and the re
sult of their wisdom was a decision that this
.melancholy was not the effect of ill health,
still less of secret sorrow, but that it was a
.constitutional phase that would probably pass
away with maturing vears.
They returned to England, presented their
aaugnter at court, and introduced ner into an
the gaieties cf fashionable life. But with no
happy efft-ct nnon the snirits of Estelle, v ho
remained profoundly unmoved amid tho eclat
thit greeted her debut. Her Diet uresciue bean
ty was tho theme of all tongues her mournful
glanceVas fascinatingher deep tones thril
Jiflg her touch magnetic all felt her power,
yet she who could move all others, remained
unimpressed. "She who sought no conquests,
for that very reason perhaps, made many. A
peer and two commoners, iu succession, laid
their fortunes at her feet, and were ui turn
kindly and firmly rejected.
So passed her first season in London, nt the
close of which her parents took her down to
their seat in Devonshire. Here, inhertho't-
ful, quiet, unostentatious manner, she engaged
in works of benevolence amon? the villagers
and the tenantry. And her father, hoping
much from this employment, gave her full lib
erty of action, and smiled to see that she
seemed less pensive than before-
At the beginning of the parliamentary term,
the family went up to London..
And it was here in her second season in town
that Estelle formed the acquaintance of Lord
Montressor, ayoung nobleman but lately acce
ded to his titles and estates, but already known
as a man of the most high-toned moral and in
tellectual excellence, as a righteous, as well
as a rising statesman, and as one, who in the
event of a change of ministry would be likely
to nil a high ollicial position in His majestv's
cabinet. Aside from the glare of rank and
wealth and power, Charles Montressor was a
glorious specimen of the Creator's workman
ship. Above the average standard of height
among his countrymen, broad-shouldered and
deep-chested, with a noble head, and a face
full of wisdom and goodness, his appearance
truly indicated the warm benevolence, clear
intelligence, and pure spirit of the nun. His
presence soon inspired Estelle witli a faith that
she had not been able to feel in anv other that
approached her. He drew nearer to her than
any other had been permitted to come ; he
crossed the magic circle of her isolation, and
conversed with her as no other had been al
lowed to do. The world looked and said that
the beautiful Stella had at last met her master
and was conquered.
At this stage of affairs, the parliamentary
term being over, Sir Parke Moreilo and his
family left London for Hyde Hall.
Lord Montressor asked and received permis
sion to follow them, and in less than a month
availed himself of the privilege to do so.
Thus it was in the home of her ancestors, af
ter having obtained the cordial sanction of her
nareuts, and believing lumsell sure in the af
fections of their daughter, Lord Montressor of
fered his heart and hand to the lovely Estelle,
and was to his profound astonishment instant
ly and firmly rejected ! In thus rejecting his
suit she wept long aud bitterly, praying his
forgiveness, that the happiness she had expe
rienced and exhibited in Ins society snouhi
have betrayed him into making this declara
tion, and beseeching him never to renew his
suit ; but to leave and forget her. There was
something in the tone of her refusal which
confirmed and deepened his previous convic
tion that even in rejecting him she loved
him ! But with his high-toned sentiments ho
would not in the least degree presume upon
that knowledge. Taking her hand with defer
ential tenderness, he said
"Stella ! a man never but once, in Ins whole
existence, loves a woman as I love youl I
will not inquire the cause ot .the rejection,
which you have certainly a righit to make
without assigning any icason for the act. And
after having received this repulse, I may not
in honor distress ycu by a renewal ot my suit.
But this, in parting, I must say to you that,
thoueh I 20 hence, I shall not go out of the
reach of your friends ; I shall never address
another woman ; so if ever in the course of fu
ture weeks, or months, or years, however long,
you may think proper to review tho decision of
this evening, Stella, 1 implore you to let me
know! Write but one word, "Come," and I
will return to lay an unchanged heart at your
feet!"
Estelle was weeping too bitterly to reply.
Stella ! will you promise to do this V
'Lord Montressor, best and dearest friend !
do not seek to bind yourself to one who can
give you nothing in return! Try to think cf
the melancholy girl that you nave puieu ami
loved only as a shadow that fell for a moment
across the sunshine of your path, and then pas
sed away forever ! and so forget her !"
"Stella! I have pledged my honor never to
renew this suit, unless you reverse in my fa
vor the sentence you have propounced upon it;
but, inspired by the deep and deathless love I
bear you, and "hoping against hope," I feel
impelled to implore before leaving you, that,
in the event of a favorable chauge of sentiment
or purpose towards me, you will not hesitate
to give rac leave to rtturn. Stella, will you
promise me so much as that 1"
"Noblest friend that I have in tho world!
how gladly would I promise, but I must not,
Montressor. Were I to do so, you would feel
bound to wait the changes of my mood", and so
lor a most undeserving love, might miss, in
some nobler woman's alfections, the happiness
in store for you !
"Stella, will you raise your sweet, mournful
eyes to mine, one moment, that you may read
my soul while I speak ?"
Estelle lifted her dark orbs to meet the clear,
pure, blue eyes bent with so much love and
candor upon hers, and read tho deep, unchan
ging truth of tho constancy of his soul as he
said
"Stella, in the presence of tho heart-searching
God who sees and hears me, I assure you
that I shall never love another woman as I
love you, and, therefore, of course, can never
wed another ; so that whether you give me
this slightest of hopes or not, I am equally
and forever bound! Now will you promise,
Stella J Kemcmber, it is only to let me know
in case of a change in your sentiments."
For an instant tho light of an unutterable
love and iov broke ou her beautif ol, dark face,
and her smiling lips parted to speak when
as jf a sudden memory and warning had griped
her very heart she uttered a low, sharp cry,
turned paler than before, and tnen said
"No! no! my Lord! Stella cannot even
give you that ! She is poorer than the poor
est, in gifts to yon ! She can only pray that
vou mav fortrct her and be happy."
lie looked profoundly disappointed and trou
bled. But soon mastering his despondency lie
aid honcfullv
"Well, dearest Stella, although you reject
me w ithout apparent reason and refuse to give
me the slsghlest promise or the most distant
hope, yet 1 repeat should you in the long fu
ture change your purpose, i "w
word 'Come,' I will hasten to lay at your feet
an unchanged heart! Good bye ! God be
with you!" and raising her hand, he bowed
over it, pressed it to his lips, turned aud left
the room. , ,r ,
Soma moments alter, Lady Morellc, who
came to seek and congratulate her daughter
upon what she imagined to be the only possi
ble result ol the Interview found Estelle ly
ing In a swoon upon the floor ! It was follow
ed by a long and terrible illness, terminating
in a tediously protracted convalescence. Th?
town season was at hand before Etelle was able
to re-enter society.
They went up to London, and once more tho
"star of beauty" arose upon its world. And
though the cloud upon her life settled darker
and heavier, day by da), she was more follow
ed, flattered and courted than before.
Thus three years had passed away, when one
morning, while the family, then occupying
their town house in Berkely Square, were seat
ed at a late breakfast, and Sir Parke was en
gaged in reading aloud from the London Times,
an account of the saving of the French Ship Le
Due D' -Qnjou wrecked off the coast of .Algiers
Estelle uttered a low cry and sank Jointing
from her seal.
This attack was not, as the other had beer,
followed by illness ; on the contrary, from
that day, the cloud seemed lifted from her
head, and even those who- had most admired
her face in its shadow, were enchanted to see
how brilliant was her beauty in its sunshine !
Her health and spirits daily improved, yet in
the midst of all this flowing tide of new life,
Estelle astonished her friends by suddenly, in
the height of the London season, retiring to
her father's country seat, where she remained
in strict seclusion from the world for eighteen
months.
At the end of this period, Lord Montressor.
who had never left England, or lost trace of
his beloved Stella, and who was now staying !
at his castle in Dorsetshire, was one day seated
at breakfast when the morning mail was
brought him. Among a score of letters the
first that attracted his attention was a dainty '
white envelope superscribed in a delicate hand
writing. He took that up first and opened it
it contained but one word "Comk."
The light of an ineffable joy broke over his
face ! Oh ! he had waited, patiently, hopeful
ly, years, for that word, and at last he receiv
ed it ! Thanks to heaven in the first instance !
and then pusuiug all the other letters unopen
ed aside he sprung up, rang for his valet, and
ordered his valise packed and horses put to
the carriage.
In twenty more minutes he had reached the
railway station just as the cars were about to
start, and in three hours he was at Hyde Hall
and standing in the presence of Estelle ! she
looking so beautiful and happy ! j
With the old chivalric enthusiasm of devo
tion, he dropped, at once, upon his knee, aud
raised her hand to his, saying
"For four years I have hoped and waited
for one word from you, and at last, beloved,
you have written-"Come," and I am at your
feet, as I said, with an unchanged heart !"
"But I," she said, deeply blushing, while
she held both hands to raise him, "I, my Lord
have not an unchanged he-Tt ! for longer than
four years I have loved you more than woman's
tongue may tell and never more, than at the
hour in which we hade farewell, as I thought,
forever!"
"I know it, beloved ! knew it then ! knew it
alv-ays ! I never doubted it! Could I be de
ceived in the dear heart of the woman I lov
ed ! No ! and that was tho secret of my pa
tience !" he replied, taking his seat on the so
fa by her side.
"And yet yon never inquired and do not e
ven now inquire, w'hy, without explanation and
without hope, I sent you from my presence,
and why now, without apparent reason, I sum
mon you back!" she said, as a shade of the
old sadness fell upon her beautiful face.
"Your motives, dearest, were, and are your
own. Not until your spirit moves you.to do
so, shall you give them to hjc ! I have full
confidence in you beautiful Stella !"
"Confidence ! oh my God !" she exclaimed in
a low, deep, thrilling voice.
"Why, what is the matter dearest 7"
She iooked up suddenly, a smile of wor
shipping love, breaking like sunlight over her
dark face, and said
"Nothing, nothing, my lord ! but that all
your thoughts and feelings are so elevated be
yond your poor Estelle's ! And yet she would
almost choose it so ! for could she be an an
gel, she would wish you to bo something far
higher a god !"
"Sweet enthusiast ? moderate your aspira
tions, or the world and its people will disap
point you ! Be not an idolator ; worship only
God, my Stella."
Such was their meeting !
Yet, occasionally, throughout the interview,
a euddon shadow like the recurrence of a pain
ful thought, would fall upon her bright lace
and then pass as it came.
They were engaged, ard within a few days
the marriage was announced to take place on
the first of May.
But it was observed by the nearest friends ot
the bride, that from the day of her betrothal,
her spirits had been marked by the strangest
fluctuations. Sometimes with her beautiful
dark face illuminated with a deep, still, almost
religious joy, sho moved about, as it were, on
"winged leet," or sat brooding in a happy
trance. At other times, she fell into deep
gloom and anxiety, as inexplicable as it was
alarming to her friends, who greatly feared re
lapso into the deep melancholy that had so
long overshadowed her, and that they had
grown to dread as a serious constitutional mal
ady. But they hoped everything from her ap
proaching marriage with the man she lored,
Lord Montressor observed with the deepest in
terest the uncertain moods of his betrothed ;
but with the high-toned sentimeuts that dis
tinguished him, refrained from inquiring, and
awaited her voluntary revelations.
At last the first of May, the marriage day,
upon which I have presented the parties to the
reader, arrived, and all the haut ton, as I said,
were gathered at the Hall or at the Church to
do honor to the solemnities.
And the expectant bride, in her bridal robe
and veil, waited within her boudoir the arri
val of the bridegroom, whom she had sum
moned to a private interview before they
should proceed to the church. She had not
long to wait. He who quickly responded to
her slightest inclinations, immediately obeyed
her call. . .
Yet when she heard his firm elastic step ap
proaching. "Now God have mercy on me 1" she pray
ed, and covered her face with her hands.
He entered, unannounced, and saying,
fMy beautiful Stella! Iam here, you per
ceive, by your commands !"
She dropped her hands, and revealing a face
pale with misery, spoke in a thrilling, deep,
impassioned tone
' You aro here by my supplication, my lord !
I have no right to command." , ,
"We will waive that 1 What is your will my
dearest Stella T". ? . - '
, "My prayer, ray lord is first, for your for
giveness." "Forgiveness ? my Stella !"
' "Ay ! my dear lord ! yon see before you &
penitent and a supplicant, who may soon be
something far more wretched !"
"My Stella! what mean you ?" '
'Come to the window,' Lord Montressor 1"
she said, rising and preceeding him. "Look
out," she continued, putting aside the rose
colored hangings; and revealing a view of the
par! below, alive with its restless multitude.
"What are all these people waiting for, my
lord ?"
"What are they waiting for, my Stella 1 for
that, for which I also wait, with how much
moie impatience !" he answered, while a deep
flush of love and joy, for an instant, supplant
ed the anxiety on his face.
"They wait to see a bride pass, where a
bride may never go !" she said, in a soleuiVi
voice.
"Stella! great Heaven ! what say yon !" he
exclaimed, gazing on her with profound aston
ishment. t.
'That the bride they expect is unworthy to
stand .before God's holy altar beside Lord
Montressor !"
"Unworthy, Stella! You!"
"Most umrorlhy, my lord !" she said, drop
ping her arms, and dropping her head in an
attitude of the deepest misery. "I should
have made this confession long ago, Lord
Montressor; but I have deceived you I have
deceived you 1"
"In what respect, Stella? My God! It
cannot be! No, it cannot be! that while be
trothed to me, you do not love me !"
"Not love you ! Oh I my dear lord " she
murmured, in a voice of thrilling tenderness
that carried conviction of her truth to his
deepest heart.
" What mean you then, dearest one ? if in
deed yon return my deep love." !
"Oh ! I do, I do, Montressor ; whatever hap
pens, wherever you go, take that assurance
with yon! I love you, my lord! shall ever love
yon, even though even after what I shall have
told you, you repulse and hate me, and go to
our friends and say, "That woman whom I
was about to wed, is but a whitcd sepulchre,
whom I have proved, and whom I now reject"
and so leave me to the scorn of men, still I
say Cver shall say I love yon. Lord Montres
sor! I love you, and the consciousness of bc
iug unworthy of your love is the bitterest ele
ment in my puuishment," she said, in a voice
of such profound misery, that Lord Montressor
conld scarcely continue to believe her agi
tation unfounded or exaggerated.
He dropped upon a seat, and sittjng still and
white as a carved image of stone, gazed upon
her, waiting her further communications.
The above is all of this beautiful and highly
interesting story that will be published in our
columns. We give this as a sample. The
continuation of it can be found only in the
New York Ledger, the great family weekly
paper, for which the most popular writers in
the couutr contribute, and which can be
found at all the stores throughout the city and
country, where papers are sold.' Remember
to ask for the New York Ledger of May, 30,
and in it you will get the continuation of the
story from where it leaves off" here. If you
cannot get a copy at any news oflicc, the pub
lisher of the Ledger will mail you a copy on
receipt of five cents. . Fanny Fern writes only
for the New York Ledger; SylvanusCohb, Jr.,
writes only for it ; Emerson Bennett writes on
ly for it ; and nearly all the eminent writers in
the country, such as Mrs, Sigourney, Mrs. Em
ma D. E. N. Southworth and Alice Carey, con
tribute regularly to its columns. Mrs. South
worth will write for no other paper hereafter.
Geo. D. Prentice, Esq., of the Louisville Jour
nal, prepares the Wit and Humor Department
in the Ledger. It is mailed to subscribers at
$2 a year, or two copies for $3. Address Rob
ert Bonner, publisher, 44 Ann St., New York.
It is the handsomest and best family paper in
the country, elegantly illustrated, and charac
terized by a high moral tone.
Poixdexter jixd Dred Scott. The Su
preme Court of Ohio have recently decided
the Poindextcr slave case in direct opposition
to that of the United States Supremo Court in
the Dred Scott case. They have adjudged
Henry Poindexter free, on the ground that
neither Ohio nor Kentucky can demand an ab
rogation of the constitution and laws of the
other ; aud if a Kentucky slave comes into O
hio by consent of the owner, the constitution
and laws of Ohio operate on the condition of
sucherson, and ctfect his immediate emanci
pation. The constitution declares that if a per
son held to service in one State escapes into a
nother he shall be given up. In this case,
Poindextcr did not escape, but was sent into
Ohio by his master. This case is, therefore,
not covered by the constitution, and he be
came entitled to the full benefit of the express
prohibition of slavery in Ohio, and was to all
intents and purposes free.
Mean Diet. A methodht minister at the
west who' lived on a very small salary, was
greatly troubled at one time to get his quar
terly instalment. He at last told the paying
trustees that he must have some money, as his
family were Buffering for the necessaries of
life. "Money !" replied tho Stewart, "you
preach for money! I thought you preached
for the good pf souls !' "Souls !" replied the
minister, "I can't eat souls and if I could it
would take a thousand such as yours to make
a decent meal."
New Titles "My biethern," said a good
old backwoods preacher,- "I am gwine to
preach you a very plain sarmon to-day a sar
mon what even the women can understand.
You will find my tex in 5 varse of the two
eyed chapter of one-eyed John." It was some
time before it was perceived that he meant
I John, chapter II. - ; -
IT?"A philosopher who had married a vul
gar,but amiable girl, used to call her "Brown
Sugar." Because, he said, she was sweet, but
unrefined. - ; ' '
' From the Knickerbocker Magaiine. .
. THE WIDOW LEEDCE'S LAST LOAF. -It
was evening a beautiful autumn evening.
Tho red leaves yet danced, rejoicing in the
mild air; the yellow sunshine yet gilded the
hill tops, and the soft shadows of twilight
were creeping silently up the valley, as the
gentle widow Leedom, with her child in her
arms, wended her way homeward. She was
tired, for she had toiled all day in Farmer
Wood's kitchen, and though it was Saturday
evening, she had not been paid for her labor.
The kind-hearted housemaid at farmer Wood's
had urged her to wait for her-supper, but sho
could not stay. She had no eye for the glory
of that superb October sunset, as she walked
wearily on, her tired arms scarely able to hold
the little joyous creature that laughed and
crowed, and ever and "anon peered into her
bonnet, lisping his sweet-toned (mamma, mam
ma.' She thought only of her expectant little
ones, and tho means of obtaining bread for
them to last over Sunday. As she ncarcd the
village, she seemed irresolute whether to en
ter it or pass on ; but a vision of her lonely,
fasting children, rose up before her In imagi
nation, and she stopped, her lij)s moved a mo
ment or two as if in prayer, and then quicken
ing her step, and hurrying on like one who has
nerved himself to a sudden resolution, she
turned into the main street, and was soon
standing before the counter of the baker's
shop. The baker was an austere man, but it
was not in human nature to resist the widow's
pleading tone and touching expression, a3 she
faltering!) asked him to trust her to a loaf of
breod for a day or two. The ma handed her
the loaf reluctantly, and was about to insist on
prompt payment, when a glance at the widow's
flushed face and embarrassed manner, deterred
him. With scarcely audible thanks she con
cealed the loaf under her tattered shawl, and
drawing her babe closer to her bosom, hasten
ed home.
"Mother's come! mother's come!" cried a
couple of young, eager voices, as she entered
the gate, and her seven-year-old Robert and
his little sister came" iunning to meet her.
They were pretty children. The little Mary
inherited her mother's mild blue eyes and del
icate complexion', and the boy his father's
handsome face and honest brown eyes. Poor
children, they were accustomed to being left
alone, for the widow went out to work daily,
and the night was always welcome, that bro't
their mother's loved return. They had a thou
sand things to ask and tell, which fell unheed
ed this time on the ear of the sad mother, tho'
she instinctively answered them yes and no,
as occasion required. She gave the loaf to
Robert, and taking little Mary's hand, they en
tered the house together. The table was al
ready set out by the expectant housekeepers,
but there was nothing on it that could be con
strued into anything eatable, save a cup of mo
lasses and some salt. The mother cut a slice
of bread for each of the half-famished chil
dren, and sat quietly by, nursing the youngest,
while they ate it, for she had no heart to eat
herself. She was very sorrowful as she looked
at those little dependent beings, and thought
of her failing strength, and shading her eyes
with her hand, the tears stole silently down
her pale, patient face, and fell among the
bright cnrlsof the little unconscious head pil
lowed so peacefully on her bosom. She had
been sorely afflicted. The husband of her
youth had been stricken down by a falling
beam, while attempting to save a sick child,
that had been overlooked in the hurry and pa
nic, from a burning building. The child was
saved, but he who perilled his life for it, the
strong, brave-hearted man had perished. The
fruit of this union, Jicr eldest born, her pride
of heart, the noblo boy whose every movement
and expression had been so many similes of
bis buried father, was a wanderer she knew net
whither.
' "Years after the boy had left her, when Rob
ert Leedom came often to see her in her lone
liness, and ventured to tell her at length how
he had loved her from the time they had play
ed together at school, and how he had remain
ed single for her sake, and came back always
to the same old port that he might breathe a
gain the same air that she breathed, and be
sought her to let him sustain and shield her,
to comfort her in sickness and sorrow, she
gladdened the honest sailor's faithful heart, by
consenting to become his wife. No wonder
the young sailor loved her, she was so neat in
her habits, so gentle and industrious; and her
calm, sweet face and holy eyes shone ever
w ith "the beauty that dwelt in her soul."
She had learned to love her second husband,
and had borne him three fair children, when
the sad news came, that the gallant vessel in
which he had sailed was wrecked on the dan
gerous coast near Abaccomb, and in his gen
erous efforts to save others, Robert Leedom
was lost. She had been a widow the second
time only six months, and now, as she thought
of her utter inability to support her fatherless
children, even in the summer time, and saw
no other prospect before her whichever way
she looked, and knew that the cold, drear win
ter was coming"grdually on, her heart failed
her utterly, and she could only weep. The
wondering little ones tried by every endearing
art they could think of, to attract-her atten
tiod, bnt in vain. Impresscdi by their moth
er's mournful mood, they ate their bread al-
t most in silence, and wheq thov had, finished,
she arose mechanically, and laying her babe in
its cradle, put them to bed.' She heard them
their prayers, and bade them good night, and
God bless t'-ieni, carefully and tenderly "as
usual, but with that subdued, spiritless tone,
that emanates from a heart without hope.;
She continued kneeling at their bedside long
after sho had prayed with them, and wept.
Bitterly she wept but there was no pitying
eye to see now, no tender hand to caress, no
loving voice to seothe, as the cry from her
overburdened, despairing heart, "My God,, my
god, why hast thou forsaken me t" went np
over the unconscious heads of the sleepers in'
that hour ol agony. No pitying eye, did J,
say ? The eye that never slumbers nor sleeps
was there, the loving kindness that has said,"
""I will be a Father to the fatherless," was a-
bout her even then, thongh she knew it not
In the power of the spirit came the blessed as
surance, in answer to her despairing cry, "t
w ill never lavc thee nor forsake thee'; and
her soul grew calm, all her old trusting faith
returned, and she arose from her knees tran
quilly, feeling that "the Lord is a very pres
ent help in time of trouble." She took down
the little worn Bible from the mantel, and as
she read on through the dosing chapter of St.
John an expression of peace ineffable, "the
peace that passeth understanding," settled se
renely on her sweet face. Putting the Bible
reverently back, she took some mending front"
her basket, and soon the clear tone of a hymn
sounded through the stillness of the little cot-'
tage ; and "How firm a foundation," etc.,
when pealed from lordly organ, aud echoed"
through vaulted dome, never ascended more
acceptably to Him who sitteth on the great
white throne.
But other eyes beside the All seeing had
been looking in through the low casement at
the lonely sufferer, and now the sweet tones of
the holy hymn were interrupted by a kr.ock at
the door. The widow opened if,' and saw be
fore her a weary, travel-stained man, who ask-"
cd only for a crust of bread and a cup of water.
The w idow glanced at the loaf which still lay
on the table, and then at the sleeping children',
and hesitated, but only Tor a moment; there
was something in the tone of the stranger's
voice that came gratefully to her soul as tt
breath of spring over violets, and she thought
of her own beloved boy asking for charity in;
some distant land, and she hastened to place a
chair and reach him the loaf, trusting to Him
"whocauseth it to rain on the earth where nq
man is, to satisfy the desolate and was to
ground," for her orphans. t ;
"My mother! my own precious mother!"
cried the familiar voice, in the broken tones
and springing forward, she was caught and
strained to the beating heart of her long-lost
son. "My son, my soul" she could only mur
mur, while he exclaimed: 'I am rich, my
mother, I have plenty for us all ; I have been
to California, and have come back rich, be?
yond all I ever hoped for or dreamed' of my
poor famishing mother! Iam just in time
thank God! thank God!" and mother and
son knelt together in one glad earnest prayer
of thanksgiving. .
AGRICUL'frRAL.
Potato Meal. At a meeting of the Farm-,
ers' Club, of this city, on the 12th inst., M. B,
Southwick, of Canada Woit, exhibited a prep
aration of potatoes dried by heated" air af
ter being boiled, which simply takes away all
moisture from the pulp, leaving it in grains of
the size of course gunpowder. He says it can
be prepared for a cost of twelve ceuts' a bust?
cl, and reduced in bulk four-fifths. This pro
duct can be kept as easily as flour, and may
be prepared ready lor eating in five minutes ,
The process of cooking was exhibited' ta the
Club over a spirit lamp, and the product tast
dd much like ordinary mashed potatoes. - To,
prepare it for eating it is mixed with three
times its bulk of hot water, and stirred until
it is of the consistency of mashed potatoes.
It is then :et into an oven for a lew minutes,
when it is ready for the table. Fifteen bush
els of potatoes make one barrel of this flour,
which is stated to keep for years without inju
ry in a dry place,
This is something worthy the attention of
our agriculturists. There was a tolerable good
crop of potatoes in many places last year, and
their price in the fall was moderate, but it
rose to a very high figure, . because the rot
commenced among them after being stored- a
way. Hundreds of thousands of bushels, w
belicve, were thus lost. Here is' a method of
saving potatoes: from destruction by winter
rot, and at the same time providing a most
pleasing, healthful, and nourishing vegetable
food, which should net be neglected by thora
who can, and who should, take advantage of
it. Scientific jSmencan.
i -i , i
A Calculation to Look at. Suppose a man
drinks four 'glasses ol liqnor a day, at five
cents a glass. In a week he spends $l,40,and
in a year, $72,80. This will buy the following
articles : 1 barrels of flour, say $24 ; i pair
of boots, say $15 ; 40 pounds of butter, $10 j
200 lbs. of beef,8; a new hat, $4 ,- bonnet
for wife, $5 ; sugar plums for children, Sl'80.
Sum total, $72,80. : . ; '..
C"Sunflower seeds are said to be' the best
known remedy for founder in horses. Asscra
as it is ascertained he is foundered, mix ore
pint of tho seed whole with the fitedeBdcn
entire eure may be expected.- '."'''