The Erie observer. (Erie, Pa.) 1859-1895, March 26, 1859, Image 1

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In-overy nook or caw sly,
t v Me roguish eye is sure to peep,
And grandma's pocket he will try -
To Whom, be it e'er so deep. '
Heinellellberlillasms of my dress,
And then says " Look !" My pretty boy!
When I mlghtoecold, I pause to bless
Thy upturned face so hall of joy.
His father's hat he loves to wear,
And, hiding half his tiny head,
A glow of beauty, rich and rare,
Upon that old black hat is shed.
For 'nesth its brim so dark and deep,
His dimpled foe, all bright with bloom,
peeps out, as rosy vapors pee?
Sometimes from clouds of wintry gloom.
Hein ally puJlbis Orhther's hair,
coulinal their toys, And run to me,
But when they gather round In prayer,
He, too, will bend his jittle knee;
And, though he monies eau ',Peak a word,
There's werwhip In his speaking eye,
And Roast's prayer I know is heard
When he Woks up to Ood's blue sky.
- -
- •
that gsteritt . art.
• ---.464210 t r
Doctor Brown was poor, and had to make
his way in the world. He had gone to
study his profession in Edinburgh, and his
enereability, and good conduct, had en
titled him to some notice on the part of
the professors. Once introduced to the
ladies of their families, his prepossessing
appearance and pleasing manners made
him an universal favorite, and perhaps no
other student received so many invitations
to dances, evening parties, or was so erten
singled out to till up an odd vacancy at the
dinner table. No one knew particularly
who he was, or where he sprang front; but
then he had no relations, as he had onee
or twice observed ; so he was evidently not
hampered with low-born or low-bast con
nections. lie had been in mourning for
his mother when he first came w college.
All this mut+ was weaned to the recol
lection of Professor Frazer by lois Mee..
Margaret., as she stood before hint one
morning in his study, telling him, in a low
but resolute voice, that the night before
Doctor .Tames Brown had &rem/ her mar
riage, tioat she had accepted him, awl that
he was intending to call on Professor Fra
zer (her uncle and natural gnarrlianj that
%cry morning, to obtain his consent In
their engagement. Professor Frazer was
perfectly aware, from Margaret's manner,
that his cement was regarded by her tts
mere form, for that her mind war made tip;
and he had more than once had 0cca....i0 31
to find out bow inflexible she could he.—L
Yet he, too, was of the same blood, and
held to his own oponions in the same ob
durate manner. The consequence of which
frequently was, that uncle and niece had
argued themselves into mutual bitterness
of feeling, without altering each other's
ojiinioons one jot. But Professor Frazer
could not restrain himself on this occasion
of all others.
"Then, Margaret, you will just quietly
..tile down to be a beggar, for that lad
Itrown has little or no money to think of
marrying upon; you tliat might Is' my
1.a,1y Kennedy, if you would."
"I could not, uncle."
"Nortsense, child. Sir Alexander is a
personable and agreeable man—middle
aged, if you will—well, a wilful woman
must have -
*ant that 'fe3dliS
my house to cajole you into fancying - him,
I would have seen him far enough belbre 1
had ever let your aunt invite hun to din
ner. Ay, you may mutter ; but I say, no
gentleman would ever have come into my
house, to seduce my niece's affection, with
out first informing me of his intentions
and asking my leave."
"Doctor Brown is a gentleman, Uncle
Frazer, whatever you may think of him."
"So `you think--k you think. But who
cares for the opinion of a love-sick girl?—
Ile is a handsome, plausible young fellow,
of good address. And I don't mean to
deny his ability. But there is something
about him I never did like, and now it's
accounted for. And Sir Alexander— Well,
well ! your aunt will be 'disappointed in
;sou, Margaret. But you were always a
head-stiong girl. Ilas this .latnie Brown
ever told you who or what his parents
were, or where he comes from? I don't about his forbears, for he does not look
like t a lad who has ever had ancestry and
yomfa Frazer of Lovat ! for shame
Margaret! Who is this Jamie Brown?"
-He is James Brown, Doctor of Medi
ne of the University of Ellmburgh : a good
lever young man, whom 1 )(we with my
a hole heart," replied Margaret, redden
"!loot' is that the way for a maiden to
speak ? Where does he come from? Who
are his kinsfolk? Unless he can give a
pretty good account of his family and pro
spects, I shall just bid him begone, Marga
ret ; and that I tell you fairly."
"Uncle," her eyes were tilling with hot
indignant tear, "I ton of age; you know
be is good and clever; else why have you
had him so often to your house? 1 marry
him, and not his kinsfolk. Ile is an or
phan. I doubt if he has any relations that
he keeps up with. Ile habil° brothers nor
si-ter.i. I don't cure where he COlllt. from."
.. What was his father?" asked Professor
Frazer, coldly.
••I don't know. Why shoulal I go pry
ing into every particular of his family, anal
asking who his father was. and what was
the maiden name of his mother, and when
his grandmother was married?"
"Yet I think 1 have heard Miss Marg,a
oit Frazer speak up pretty strongly in fa
\ or of along line of unspotted ancestry."
"I had forgotten our own: I suppose,
I spoke so. Simon Lord Lovat is a
aTealitable great uncle to the Fra/ Ifall
the piles be true, he ought to have been
LaigoMi Ilk a felon, instead of 1.-111%41A
ilk, a 11/yjj gentleman ."
if you're determined to foul your
nest, I novo done. 'Met .lames Brown
an I will make him my bow, and thank
bun for condescending to marry a Frazer."
••I 7ni said Martniret, now fairly cry
ing, "don't let us ,a rt in anger. We love
h other in our Jearts. You have been
good to me. and so Inv my aunt. But I
have given my word to 1/octor Brown, and
I must k ee p it. I should love him if he
were the son of a ploughman. We don't to be rich : but he has a few hun
dr,iii. to .tart with. and I have my own
hundred :I year—"
"Well. %111. child. don't cry. You have
-et tied it all for yourself. it .'ens: so I wash
i% hawk °lit. 1 stink.• of all responsibil-
it% You will tell your:Lunt what arrange
ment. you make with Doctor Brown about
nu marriage. and 1 will do what you wish
in the matter. Rut don't send the young
[min in to the to ask my consent. I neither
1:lye it nor withhold it. It would have been
ditlerent if it had been Sir Alexander."
••t tl,, Uncle Frazer ! don't veak so. See
l' Brown, at any rate—for my sake
-14 ll him you consent: Let me belong to
that much. It seems so desolate at
a time to have to dispose of myself, as
tf itobtsly owned or eared for me."
The door was thrown °pan. and Doctor
Jame, Brown was announced. 11(segurat
It:wtted away ; and c before he was aware
the Professor had given a sort of consent,
%%allow asking a question of the happy
Noung man, who hurried itway to seek his
letrothed : leaving her uncle muttering to
Doctor and Mrs. Frazer were so
stivigly opposed to Margaret's engage•
- ,
ment, in reality. that they e e i i . not help
it by manner aid l' .pljoation •
l et= they had thrgnroetcelesalmatet:
But Margare t felt more keenly:tam her
lover; thud kenestanot weloomeisa the house.
Her, pleasure in oaring
_him was deittreyed
by her sense of the cold welcome that he
received; and also willingly • yieldea. to his
desire of a short einperment ; which was
contrary to their eternalan of 2 waiting,
until he should be settled inrnsetice in
London. and should see his ray. Clear to
such an lucerne as shciuld render their mar
riage a prudent step. Doct or ,npr Mrs.
Fraser neither 4:ideated , nor p Oved.—
Margaret would - rather have had the moat
vehement opposition 'than this Coldness.—
But• it make her turn with redouhled af
fection to her warm-hearted andisymps
tiding lover. Not that she bad ever dis
cussed her uncle and aunt's behavior with
him. As long es he was apparently una
waro of it, she would not awaken him to a
sense-of it. :Besides, they had stood to her
so long in the relation of parents, Leaf she
felt. she had no right to bring in a Stranger
to sit in judgment upon them.
So it was with rather a heavy haat that
she arranged their futkeenseneee with Doe
litleanhallee amble en:profit by her aunt's
experience and wisdom. But ldargeret
herself was a prudent akdisensiblei girl.—
Although accustomed to a degree Of com
fort in her uncle's 'mese : that almost
amounted to luxury, she Could • regolutely
dispense with it when occasion mqtrired.—
When Doctor Brown started for London,
to seek and prepare 'their new home, she
enjoined him not to make but tiny the
most necessary preparations for hek recep
tion. She would herself superinteml all
that was wanting when she came. :He had
some old furniture, stored u in a warehouse,
which had been hismother 's. He proposed
selling it, and buying new in its place.—
Margaret persuaded him not to do this:
but to make it go as far as it mold: The
household of the newly-married couple was
to consist of a Scotch woman, long con
nected with, the Frazer family, Id was to
be the sole female servant ; and a a man
whom I kwtor Brown picked up in I olden,
ii ,
soon after he hid fixed on a house, named
Crawford, who had lived for many years
with a gentleman now gone abroad. but
who gave him the most excellent char:trier.
in reply to Doctor Brown's i rtqu irks. This
gentleman had employed Crawford in a
number of ways ; an that in fact he was a
'kind of jack-of-all-trades; and I lksaor
*Brown, in every letter, had some new ac
complishment of his seryttneer JO relate.
which he did with the morn &Iciest; .tutu
zest, because Margaret hold slightly ques
tioned the wiMem of starting in lite with a
man-servant, hut had yielded to: Doctor
' !Brown's arguments of the necessity of keep
ing up a respectable appeerance, making a
decent show, ix., to any one who might he
inclined to consult him, but be daunted by
the appearance of old christie out of the.
kitchen, and unwilling to leave any mes
sage to one who spoke such unintelligible
English. Crawford was so good amrpen
ter that be could put up shelves, ftsl4
faulty hinges, mend looks, and even went
the length of constructing a box out of
some old boards' that had once formed a
packing case. Crawford oneday,whcn his
master was too busy to go out for his din
ner. improvised an omelette as good many
Doctor Beam had over tasted in P. is,
when he.,wee stu , .- . _ there. fn .. ,
. _ ..
m ,is way, and Margaret was quite con
vinced that Doctor Brown was right in his
decision that they must have a man-ser
want ; even before she was respectfelly
greete\by Crawford as he opened the door
to the newly-married couple, when the)
came to their new home after their short
wedding tour.
Doctor Brown was ratherafraid lest Mar
garet should think the house bare and
cheerless in its half-furnished state; for lie
had obeyed her injunctionsiand bough; as
little funiiture as might be, in addition to
the few things he had inherited from his
mother. His consulting room (hew gra n d
it sounded!) was completely arrangt , d.
ready for stray patients; and it was Well
calculated to make a good impreission ion
them. There was a Turkey carpet on the
floor, that had been his mother's, and *as
just sufficiently worn to give it the air' of
respectability which hale home pieces' of
furniture have when they look as if the)
had not just been bought for the occasion.
but are in some degree hereditary. me
same appearance pervaded the room : Ole
library table (bought second-hand, it mest
be conlesseil,) the bureau—that hail be'en
his mother's—the leather chairs (as hered
itary as the library table,) the shelves
Crawford bad put up for DMeter Browe's
medical hooks, a good engraving or two too
the walls, gave altogether so pleasant lin
aspect to the apartment that both lt.iceir
and Mrs. Brown thought, for that evening
at any rate, that poverty was just as coin
fortal,le a thing as riches. Crawler. lief
taken the liberty of placin flowers
g a few - flowe
about the room, as his humble way o wel
coming his mistress ; late autumn fitwets,
blending the idea of summer with tl at of
winter, suggested by the bright lift e tire
in the crate. Christie :sent up del cious
scones fur tea, and Mrs. Fraser had -
up for her wantrif—geniality, as well 1
could, by a store of marmalade and
ton hams; lkietor Brown could not O
in this comfort until he had showy
garet, almost with a groan. how many I
were as yet unfurnished, how nue
maims' to be done. But she laugl
his alarm lest she should be disap
in her new home, declared that she s
like nothing better than plannin.
contriving; that what with her own
for upholstery, and Crawford's for y
the rooms should be furnished as if b
ic, and no bills—the usual couseilue
eomfort—be forthcoming. But wi
morning and daylight Doctor Brown'
iety returned. He saw and felt every
in the ceiling. every spot on the rip(
for himself, but for Margaret. I
constantly in his own mind, as it se
comparing the house he had brbug
to, to the one she had left, lie .
constantly afraid lest she had repen
would repent having married him.
morbid re3tlestness was the only dra
to their great happiness; and, t o d.
with it, Margaret was leif into ex
much beyond her original Luten,tior.
bought this article in preferenCe
bemigsie liar husband, if he went' sh.
with her, seemed so miserable if
pected that she denied herself the al'
wish on the score of economy. tile:
to avoid taking him out with her wl
went to make her purchases, as it
very simple thing to her to choose t i
expensive thing. Ewen though it we
ugliest, when she was by herself, bu
simple painless thing to her to bard
heart to his look of mortification wh
quietly said to the shopsuan that sli
not afford this or that. On aiming
a shop after one of those occasions, '
"0 Margaret, I ought not tb- hay .
ried you. You must forgive-1 h
loved - you."
"Forgive you, James!" said she.
making me so happy 1 What shout
you think I care so much for red i
twerp!e to moreen ? Don't speak so
"0 Margaret 1 hilt don't forget
ask you to forgive me."
Crawford was everything that
promised to be, and more than
desired. He was Margaret's right
all her little bousebetA plebs, in .
, 1
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0 ~ • . . - ••• Gibloittheiralle
ilk Mt •, je....4" s GC *GM
lb, 'l. . • r: • dimini et zatire
itt, . for, ;ou l d
1 a have . • netioniation. Sae' a
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She .• 1 k " t for sub
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ob. mai . • eeneegeteeoeil of
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as 1 . ' k _ •._ ery
,ar Me nikteey,
sk . goftre,m• the Roper
is• Jr. Asteistalautd sat all
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fascist. 5 ',. . i
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Atude . `7' • -19 1 .• - . siren
hi s t i i* -,7 .. 'l7 . cal eith
1 sudden • • apteeo call out on
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en „. ,
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ilecput c ,A said
4,,, .1 1 IJ. •I. uti r ve h e .
” 0 - . Pk asibemen at that,
, u 'i ng /shiz lhi r,
.. 7. : ..,:, .7 roci said alt'un in - -
discern . - haerialsattchiging.
i just.. , . . illiadoitter with' a
ltuyter . • , - - bet niAt Ste-the
Ad wh- . .". • beak., lark* told
had .. ; . .. ; .. wan. I 13ci
lon , • - LI, , . . . ao;" aid.
f, • ' asissie "middy, and
full Yafttioty
ford t r .. 'Ovid • the sweep
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ie • 'i cant
een npri
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seek, eisd. [' pay
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hi '',77 7. But deer me,
'how "
.-, -'• tawnist therb had
Au •eh • .• -' in Lim ?"
;ff . z,
. i 1 ' into the biareep r.-
. , . . tj) her husbopi,
s the look. . ... I" ' 4
rodeo& ... , . Me 'one 'who wa
Tol _
izeopl.tursted g dm
,Alt . •, • it last -eight. The
rag el . . . • - - . wliezi X vreut
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i •-' • ' theughtfal si•
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'-' ' Irat Wel*Nitlg to
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mose . -* ~e otrx.r t ett I
I th , ' . who. dle L.. , _
. -hi
w imq
ye SO
ntl iu
a way
which irritated Christie not a little, Tbk
bald between Christie and Crawford wea
the growasadhosodert in the Irma&
I t s / it
.=........ ut Der move.
--swq stalisret dial not ahoagie to
t ry
question.bmthnt them down to aka&
ousy of her fellow ant, which the mis
tress did all inlet power to heal. On the
whole, bowmen: - four peeple fiarming,
this fan*" livedlogether In tolerable har
p:l9W. Doetar t Zzn was snore than set
twith his - his setranbi, his pro
eeskrend prospeett, and, most of all, with
his little, brig*, ettetgetic wif e..
ret, lieom til lb' t„xne, was taken by cer
t Art Amidst lieehnsband!: but the ten
(erenby of these .• . , wasi not to weaken
her Affection, . . rie baU tett a feelingof
pity for what ap . • :. to her morbid suf.
fenngs and map .. .. • pity ready to be
turned intospotpativ as mem as she could
discover any defaiite eause for his arca- 1
sional depression Hof spirits.. Christie -did
d i m
riot pretend to lik Crawford ; but, Mar
garet quietly noel to listen to her
fftamblings and d tent on this head,
and as Crawford wits almost painfully so
licitous to gain the good opinions of the
old'Seoteh woman,:there was no open rup
tureir between, tit . On the whole. the
popular, successful Doctor Brown was se
parently the mos anxious person in his
family. There oo dbe no great Gauss for
this as regarded ' money affairs. By one
of those Wary acci enter which sometimes
lift a man out of h struggles, and
him on to smooth; toneneurnhered gro=
lie luul - made a great step in his profession
u4 progress, and their income from this
spurts was likely to be fully aaatuch af.
Margaret and he hail ever anticipated in
their most sanguine moments, With tits
likelihood, too, of 4 steady increase as the
years went on.
I must explain myself more frilly an this
head. . •
Margaret .herself hail rather more than
4 11
it hundr ' aryear ; sometitues,.indeed, her
dive' hadramounted, to owe hundred
and, • yor 4,orty 4s:win& ; but on that
she da not ?bly. Doctor Brown had
seventee hundrthrertutining of the three
thousand left him by his;mother ; and,out
of this nifty, he had to pay for some of
the furniture, the bills for which had not
been sent in at the time, in spite of all
Margaret's entreaties that such might be
the c ase. They came in. about a weeekkiee•
fore the time when the events Lasit going
to narrate took place. .
Of course they amounted to more than
even the prudent Margaret had expected,
and she was a little *inspirited to find how
much money it would take to liquidate
them. But, curiously and contradictorily
enough—es she had often noticed befOre-,
any real cause for anxiety or disappoint
ment ~ ,d not seem to afloat her husband'
ch • : an. Ile laughed at her dismay
over h ~. accounts, jingled the proceeds of
that da -'m work in his pockets, coentnd It
out to •
~,,L,.. ca 1 . 4....... 1.... ~,. '• .„:....„
garet e the guineas, and carried theni
up stai ,, . to her own seeretaire in silence;
having learnt the difficult art of trying to
swallo • down her household cares in the
presen •of her husband. When she came
hack sl e was cheerful, if grave. He had
taken p the bills in her absents., and haul
been at ding them up.
"INo hundred and sixty-six pounds." he
said, p tting the accounts away to clear the
table G r tea as Crawford brought in thit,
things: " Why, 1 don't call thrarnuelt. I
believe 11 reckoned on their coming to a
great deal more. I'll go into the city to
morrow and sell out some shares, and set
your little heart at ease. Now don't co
and taut a spoonful has tea in to-night to
help to pay these hills. Earning is better
than saving, anti I am earning at a famous
rate. (live me goisl test. Maggie. for I h a v e
done a good day's work."
They were sitting in theiloetor's consult
ing men for the better acv my of fire. To
add to Margaret's discomfort the chimney
smoked this evening. She had held her
tongue front any repining wools: for she
retneml lens! the old proverb about a smoky
chimney and a scolding wife: but she was
more irritated by the pull's of smoke com
ing over her pretty white work than she
eared to show ; and it 'was in a sharper tone
than usual that she spoke in Ilid4ling craw
fool take care and have theehimney swept.
'l'lle next morning all had cleared brightly
otf. • tier husband had convinced her that
all their money mutters were going on well:
the tire burned brightly at breakfast time,
and the unwonted fun shone in at the win
dows. Margaret thanked him, and aegui
eseed in all his plans about giving a gener
al cleaning to the room. the more readily,
because she felt that she had spoken sharp
ly the night before. She decided too and
pay all her bills, and make some e l i .tant
Calls ma the next morn in g and her hie,-
hami promised to got into the city idyl pro
vale her with the money.
This he did. lie showed her notes that
evening. locked them up for the night in
his bureau ; and In! in the morning they
were gone! They had bookfasted in the
back parlor, or half-furnished dining-room.
It Was not long before he came back that
Margaret went to look for him. Ile did
hot seem to heart Margaret's step, as she
Made her way among mlle4l-up carpetsand
eha.in4 piled on each other. she haul to
touch hint on the shoulder before she could
rouse him.
".lamer, James!" she said, in alarm.
Ile looked up at her ahnost as if he did
not know her.
" 0 Margaret ! " he said, and took hold
of her hands, and hid his face in her
Dearest love, what Is it?" she asked,
+thinking he was suddenly taken ill.
" Some one has been to my bureau since
night," he groaned, without looking
!up or moving.
" And taken the money?" said Margaret,
in an instant understanding how it stood.
lt flag a great blow ; a great loss, far great
er than the few extra pounds by which the
bills had exceeded her calctilations: yet it
seemed as if she could bear it better: "Oh
deur!" she said, -that is bad : but after all
—do you know," she said, trying Oo raise
his face, so that she might luck into it, and
give him the encouragement of her honest,
loving eves, "at first f thought you were
deadly ill, and all sorts of dreadful possi
bilities rushed through my Mind—it:is such
a re li e f to find it is artily Money—"
Only money." he echoed, sadly; avoid
ing her look, as if he could not bear to
show her how he felt It.
" And after all," she said,-with
tit can't be gone far, Only last night ere.
The ebituney-sweetwr.we must send Craw
ford fOr the police directly. You did net
take the number of the notes?" ringing
the bell as she spoke.
"No ; they were onlv to be in our pee
tension one night," he said.
" NO, to be sure not."
The. cbarvroman now appeared $ the
door with her pall of hot water. Illsrganat
looked into her face, as if to mad guilt or
in nominee. She was a protege of Chtfintle's,
who wail not apt to accord her favor easily,
or without good grounds ; an honest, de-
,e who
•-OYIa I
tient of
beat on t.
and she was
ow, steps kg
poured out
_no •
any attic
tion ;
instant ,
" Is an)
terrupti ,
usual di
"I had
Plast, an'
me you .
your par&
indeed,. his
his face was
"p Crawfm
has got into
all the mot
is gone, at al,
hint in the
I ain't
Yea! I bel
had my
pantry ; and
tame, compl
so late ; and
been alone
ma'am, WV
been AO MI,
" How
said M.
keno from ol
" Yes! No
key without
bureau wr,
to it this moo
He relapsed
" eL my rate,
wondering now
you can, for a
name of. the c
she *tided. as
leave the room.
"Indeed.. ...
jast, agreed' vtiti
But Margaret had turned away with an
impatient gesture of despair. Crawford
went without another word to week a la
In vain did his wife try and pen ado Dr.
Brown to taste any breakfast a cop of tea
was all he would try and swallow, and that
was taken in hasty gulfs, to clear his dry
throat, ai4 he heard Crawford's voice talk
ing to the policeman whom he was uhher
ing in.
The policeman heard all and said little.
Then the inspector came. Doctor Brown
seemed to leave all the talking to Crawford,
who apparently liked nothing better. Mar
garet was infinitely distressed and dismay
ed by the effect the robbery seemed to have
on her husband's energies. The probable
loss of such a sum was had enough, but
there was something so poor and weak in
character, in letting it affect him so strong
ly—to deaden all energy and destroy all
hopeful spring, t hat, although Margaret did
not dare to define her feeling, northe cause
of it, to herself, she had the fact before her
perpetually, that, if she were to judge of
her husband from this morning only, she
must learn to rely on herself alone in all
eases of emergency. The inspector repeat
edly turned from Crawford to Doctor anti
Mrs. Brown for answers to his inquiries. It
was Margaret who replied, with terse, short
sentencte, very different from Crawford's
long, involved explanations.
At length the inspector asked to speak
to her alone. She followed him into the
next room, last the affronted Crawford and
her despoOdent husband. The inspector
gave one Sharp look at the charwoman,
who was going on with her scouring with
stolid indifference, turned her out, and
then asked Margaret where Crawford came
from,—how long he had lived with them,
and variouo other questions, all showing the
direction suspicion. had taken. This
.hocked argaret extremely ; hut she
q uickly aintmvered every inquiry : and, at
the end, wktehed the inspector's face close
ly, and waited for the avowal of „the sus
lie led the way back to the other room
without a word, however. Crawford had
left, and Doctor Brown was trying to read
the morning's letters (whieh had just been
delivered,) but his hand shook so much
that he could not see a line.
" Doctor Brown," said the inspector, " I
have little doubt that your man-servant
has committed this robbery. I judge so
from his whole manner; and from his anx
iety to tell the story, and his way of try
ing to throw suspicion on the chimney
sweeper, neither whose name nor dwelling
can he give; at least ho ways not. Your
wife says he has already been out of the
house this morning, even before he went
to summon a policeman ; so there is little
doubt that he has found means for conceal
ing or tliitposing of the notes ; and you say
you do not know the numbers. However,
that cart probably be ascertained."
At this moment Christie knocked at the
door, and, in a state of great agitation, de
manded to speak tot. She brought
up an additional stort7rspieions circum
stances, pope of them much in themselves,
but all tending to criminate her fellow-ser
vant. She had expected to find herself
blamed for starting the idea of , Cantina:l's
guilt, and was rather surprised to find her
self listened to with attention by the in
spector. This led her to tell Many other
little things all bearing against Crawford,
which, a dread of being thought jealous
and quarrelsome, kind led bit t comma
before from her master and mistress, tst
the end of her story, the Instlegtor
" There can be no doubt of the cause to
be taken. You, air, must give your man
servant in chair. He will be taken before
the sitting magistrate directly and there
is already evidence enough him be
remanded for a week ; during !which time
we ma? , trace the notes , and aimplete the
chain. '
"Mist I prosecute?" said Dr, Brown, al
most, lividly pale. "It is, I *24 a serious
loos of money tome; but there will be the
further extesee of the prosocutiOu—the
lees of tine—the—"
lie stopped. Ho saw his wiks indignant
ryes fixed upon ; and
„shrank from
MARCH 1859.
femint to subl
ime the ohmmeter
eI *NS her "Id
or time to
their look of uncce s tioioat 4ioeph.
" Yes, inspector he Odd. 'IT glee
in charge. Dot whet is *tit. Of emus* I
take the eestewPteebeee. We take the cow
segtienoes. jillon't litaggszed 'He
In a kind tor wild,low robe. of Whig:4lV
gort Mooed it,best, to titlamo notice. L
s Ton/ us=idly what to de," she laid,
verY midi and etly, addressing himself
to the polls an.
to LC= g r " ht tl iP3' l4 if Ile eg, d 6Krtkru
bringing Christie is a and then
want away to take measures ter aseariag
Margaret was surprised to find bow lit
tle hum or violence needed lobe used_ ht
'Cra~'s stmt. She had expected to
hear sounds of commotion hi the house, if
indeed Crawford himself had nottaken the
alarm and eacasipeti. But., when she had
Suggested - theistic' , apprehension to the in
spector, he smiled,' and told - her that when
he had first heard of the charge from the
policeman on the beat, he had stationed a
detective officer within sight of the house
to watch all ingress or ; so that Craw . -
itard's whereabouts soon be discover
ed-if he had attempted to escape.
Margaret's attention was now directed to
her husband. He wastzudting hurried pie
paiations for setting of on his round of
visits, and evidently did not wish to have
_conversation with hor b4 ; i tt i Zject of
the thornineftvent. to be
-back by eleven o'clock ; ore which time
the had Loured lhem.their prea
enee would not be needed. pinks or twice
Doctor Brown said, as if to hinnost r =
uffisen business." Indeed,
feltit•to be so; 'and now the& 4beneoeseig
immediate -for speech and action was over,
she to fancy that she must be hard-
Ift.rW—very d ent in common feeling;
itlasmUch es she had not sulked him her
*husband-at the discovery theythe servant
—whom they had been learning to con
sider as a friend, and to look upon him as
having their-interestsso warmly at heart—
was, in all probability, a treacherous thief.
She remembered all his pretty marks of at.
• tion to her from the day when he had
ireloonied her arrival at her new home by
his humble present of Bowers, until only
the /lay before, when, seeing her fatigue d.
he.bed, unasked, made her a cup of eofthe
—ooffee such as none but he could maim
Mow often had he thought of warm, dry
clothes for her husband; how wakeful had
be been at nights; how t in the
mornings! It was no wonder thO, het hus
band felt this discovery of domestic treason
lieu*. It was she who was hani . suld sel
fish, and thinking mprWor tke'reOovery of
tbe *Daley than of The tertMe disappoint
- . in character, if the charge against
Crawford were true.
At eleven.o'clock her husband returned
with ir cab. Christie had thought the occa
sion of appearing at a police-office worthy
of her Sunday clothes, and was as smart as
hbr. • . s conld4nake her. But-Mar
d her husband looked as pale and
'aorrowstiiitkcgt, as if they had been the so-
Cused, and not the accusers.
Doctor Brown shrank from meeting
Crawford'agatra as the one took his place
in the witness: box; the other in the dock.
"set- Crawford was trying—Margaret wad
sum of this—to cate.h.ida master's-atten
tion. Failingin that, be looked a t, . ;.1
Indeed' the whole character of his face weer
changed. Instead of the calm, smooth
look of attentive obedience, he had as
sumed an insolent, threatening expression
of defiance ; smiling occasionally in a most
unpleasant manner as Doctor Brown spoke
of the bureau and its contents. He waste
mended for a week, but, the evidence as
yet being far from conclusive,, bail for his
appearance was taken. The bail was offer
ed by his brother, a naipectable tradesman,
well known in his neighborhood, and to
whom Crawford had sent to his arrest. -
So Crawford was at large again, much to
Christie's dismay; who took off her Sun
day clothes, on her return home with a
heavy heart, hoping rather than trusting
that they should not all be murdered in
their beds before the week was out. It
must be confessed Margaret herself was not
entirely free from fears of Crawford's ven
geance ; his eyes had looked so maliciouely
and vindictively at her and her husband as
they gave their evidence.
But his absence in the household gave
Margaret enough to do to prevent her dwel
ling on foolish fears. His being away made
a terrible blank in their daily. comfort,
which neither Margaret nor Christie—exert
themselves as they Would—could fill up;
andjt was the more. necessary that all
should go on smoothly, as Doctor Brown's
nerves had received such a shock at the dis
covery of the guilt of his favorite, trusted
servant, that Margaret was led, at times, to
apprehend a serious illness. He would
pace about the room at night, when he
thought she was asleep, moaning to him
self—would minim the utmost persuasion
tfi Induce him to go out and see his patients.
He was worse than ever after consulting the
lawyer whom he had employed to conduct
the prosecution. There was, as Margaret
was brought unwillingly to perceive, some
mystery in the ease for he eagerly took
his letters from the post, going to the door
as soon as he heard the knock, and conceal
ing their directions from her. As the week
passed away, his nervous misery still in
One evening—the candles were not light
ed—he was sitting over the fire in a listless
attitude, resting his head on his hand, and
that supported on his knee—Margaret de
termined to probe and find out the nature
of the sore that he hid with such constant
care. She took a stool and sat down at his
feet, taking his hand in hers.
,• Listen, dearest James, to an old story
I once heard. 1 t may interest you. There
were once too orphans, boy and girl in
their hearts, though they were a young
man and a young woman in years. They
were no brother and sister, and by and by
they fell in love—just ,4t the same food,
slily way you and I did,. you reanenther.—
Well, the girl was amongst her own people,
but the boy Was far away from hbi.--ifili
deed, he had any; but the girl loieda
so dearly for himself that sometimes - the
thought she was glad that he had no one
to care for him but just her alone. Her_
friends did not like him as much as she
b i bou
did; forpe rhaps they were wise, grave,
cold pee e, and she, I dare my, was very
foolish. And they did not lie he r marr
ing the y—which was just stupidity in
him, forth ey had not a word today against,
him; but, t a week here the tourisige
day Was a e 4. taleY t4walght t4q had famid
out soul . thing—eny ciaoing We, don't
take awayyour band—d on ' t tremble so
—only just listen! Her aunt "me) to her
and said : "Slhild, you mi t s e t r and
up your
lover I His father was tau slimed;
and if he is now alive , he a transported
oonviet. The marriage cannot take place.'
But the girl stood up, and said: ' U he
has known this great solver and shanie, he
needs my love all the more, I will wit
lesse him nor foisake hiin, but Iwo him
all the better. And I charge re; arnica.
you hope to receive a blessing ihr doingas
you Weak' be done by, that you toll 'too
one!' I really think that iiirl awed• her
aunt., in some strange way, intoasereia-+
But when sho was left alone. she cried
tltand moy, toiltiV ag t=!
a i ttra Vivadlfio sq 4 elm
conceal forever that she hid t he
_burden; but now she thinks-0 m us
band 1 how you must have —" as
be' bent, down Ida" heed 'en her ebotddiw,
and cried terrible snen's town
"God be thanked!" he mild at
" You know all, and you do not
from me .oh, what a mineable, deceitful
I have bee®! Mined! Yes—
eacagloto drive me mai, and if I
had bat been brat* I sight Uwe been
mowed all this lockgtwelveasenths of .
Bet it is right I should have been
And you knew it even before we were
barried, when you might have dawn
bea k In •
" locialdnot : you would nothave broken
off your momumumnt with me, would you,
the Ma eireunastenoes, if our omen
bad been reversed ?"
" I do not know. Perhaps I might, for
I am .not so brave, so good, so strong as you,
my Margaret. How cionki I be I Let me
tell yon more : We wandered about, my
mother and I, thankful that our name was
such a common one, • but shrinking from
Avery alhurion—in a way which no one can
understand, who lugs not been morictionsof
an inward sore. Living in an assize town
was a torture: a oommemill one was near
ly as bad. My father was the son of a
divided cl well known to his
brethren a cathedral town was to be avoid
ed, because there the circumstance of the
Dean of Saint Botolph's son having been
transported was sure to be known. I had
to be educated ; therefore we had to live
in a town: for my mother. could not bear
to part lam MB, and I was sent, to a day
school. We were very poor for our station
--not we had no station ; we were the wife
andehitd ofa fr etinvict—for my poor mother's
early luibits4 should have said. Bat when
I was about fourteen my hither died in his
exile, leaving; as convicts in those days
sometimes did, a large fortune. Itall came
to in. - My mother shut herself up, and
cried and prayed for a whole day. Then
she called me in, and took me into her
counsel. We solemnly pledged ourselves
to give the money to some charity, as soon
as I was legally of age. Till then the in
terest was laid by, every penny of it : though
sometimes we were in sore distress for
money, my education coat so much. But
bow could we tell how the money 100 been
accumulated?" Mere hedropped his voice.
" Soon after I was one-and-twenty, the
rang with admiration of the un
known munificent donor of certain sums.
I loathed their praises. I shrank from all
recollection of my father. I remembered
him dimly, but always as angry and violent
with my mother. My poor, gentlemotherl
Margaret, she, loved my father ; and, fbr
her sake I have tried, since her death, to
feel kindly towards his memory. Soon
after my mother's death, I began to know
you, my jewel, my treasure I"
After awhile, he began n. " But 0,
Margaret even now you know not the
worst. After my mother's death, I found
a bundle of law m3ers—of newspaper re
porte about my father's trial, poor soul.—
Why she had kept them, I cannot say.—
They were covered over With notes in her
hand-writing : and for that reason,. I kept
them. It was so trehing to reed hei re
cord or the days. epent by her in her soli
hag innocence, while he was embroiling
hhnself deeper and deeper in crime. I
kept this bundle (as I thought. so safely !)
In' a secret chewer of my bureau : but t ha t
wretch Orawford has got hold of it. I mis-
- dr - Azle e
lowa what money I had ; and now Crawford
Ateatens to bring out the one terrible fact,
in open court, if he can ; and his lawyer
may do it, I believe. At any rate, to have
it blazoned out to the world—l who have
spent my life in fearing This hour ! But
moat of all for you, Margaret I Still—if
only it could beavoided—who will employ
the son of Brown, the noted forger ? I
shall lose all my pratice. Men will look
askance at mess I enter their doors. They
will drive me into crime, I sometimes fear
that crime is hereditary 1 0, Margaret,
what am I to do ?"
" What can you do?" she asked.
" I can refuge to prosecute."
" Let Crawford go free, you knowing him
to be guilty?"
" I know him to be guilty."
" Then, simply, you cannot do this
thing. You let loose a criminal upon the
pll WO."
But., if I do not, we shall come to shame
and poverty. It is for you 1 mind it., not
for myself. I ought never to have mar
" Listen to me. I don't care for poverty;
and, as for shame, I should feel it twenty
times more grievously if you and I had con
sented to screen the trinity from any fear
or for any selfish motives of our own. I
don't pretend that I shall not feet it when
first the truth is known. But my shame
will turn into pride as 1 watch you live t
down. You have been rendered mor d,
dear husband, by having something all
your life to conceal. Let the world k ow
the truth, and say the worst. You wi go
forth a free, honed, honorable man, able
to do your future work with Out fear."
" That scoundrel Cranford has sent for
an answer to his impudent note," said
Christie, putting in her bead at the door.
"Stay I May I write it ?" said Margaret.
Rhe wrote:
Whatever you may do or say, there is
but one ()mime open to us. No thmits can
deter your master from doing his duty.
' ' MA 110 • RST BROW N . "
" There !" she said, passing it to her hus
band ; "he will see that I know all, and I
suspect he has reckoned something on your
tenderness for me."
Margaret's note only enraged, it did not
daunt Crawford. Before a week was out,
every one who cared knew that Dr. Brown,
the rising young physician, was son of the
notorious Brown, the forger. All the eon•
sequences took place which he had antici
pated. Crawford had to suffer a severe
sentence; and Doctor Brown and his wife
had to leave the house and go to a smaller
one; they had to pinch and to screw; aid
ed in all most zealously by the faithful
Christie. But Dr. Brown was lighter-heart
ed than he had ever been before in his
conscious lifetime. . His foot was now firm
ly planted on the ground; and every step
he rose was a sure gain. People dad say
that Margaret had been seen in those werat
times On her hands and knees cleaning her
own doer-atep. But I don't believe it, for
Christie would never have let her do that.
And, as far as my own evidence goes. I can
only say that the last time I was in London
I sew a door plate with Doctor James Blown
upon it, on the door of a handsome house
in a handsome square, /as I looked, I saw
a broughaM drive Up to the door, and a
lady get out, and go into that house, who
was certainly the Margaret Fraaer of old
As vet., more portly, more stern I
had said.. But, as I watched and
tbouAt, Isom her comet° the dining-room
window with a baby in her arms, and her
whole Owe Melted into a smile of infinite
M._ reporter of the Cincinnati Garotte
indulged in an 'experimental dose of has
boob skitWats ago. and consequently
started :upon fahmkash tour t hrough the
malted i n his being wasted
,K=2ripth t~h tluktletert:
enter thearinig.— i
The raw tof his =-
M eer" 1.4 yet appeared in the Ela-
'llWrintiiilinietionbetwatai those whom
the *mid enemata as soodtand them whom
it condemn as bad, El in many ewe that
the former have been better sheltered from
~;! i)' 1: ! ;~I ;
Oat day when Dunn isZ4 2,•jif nekssmasi of
the Bus lita Zen* was. • in the Bon-,
leveed St. Antoine wit/x wol te offer
ed to wager with the that he were
to hides six-livre pities in edurst, his dog
would discover am ii-Wthg it to him. The
wager was accepted. and the • y
of money
secreted, after being. marked:—
When the two hadpeooteded some distance
from the spot, if.' Dumont called to his
dft that he had kiatemnetidstairerder
ed to seek it. Conk*.
turlect back, and his muter and his com
panion pursued their walk to the Rue St.
while a traveler, who hap
pened to be then returning in a small
chaise from incennes, perceived the P iece
of which his -horse had kicked
from its place; he alighted, task it
up, and drove to his inn. in the Rue Pont
aua-Chour. Caniche had just reached the
spot in search of the lost piece when the
stranger picked it up. He followed the
chaise, went into the inn, and stuck close
to the traveler. Having seonted out the
coin which he had been ordered to b?
hack in the pocket of the latter, he lea
up incessantly at and about e
traveler, supposing him to be 'some dog
that had been lost or left behind• by his
master, regarded his (Ramat movements
as marks of fonchien, and as pis animal
was handsome, he detennined to keep him.
He gave him a good supper, and on retiring
to bed, took him with him to his chamber.
No sooner had he pulled off his breeches
than they were sewed by the dog. The
owner, conceiving that he wanted to play
with them, took them sway again.
animal began to bark at the door, which
the traveler opened, under the idea that
the dog we tad to go out. Caniche snatch
ed the breeches ; and away he Sew. The
treveler posted after him with his nightcap
on, and literally war aeries. Anxiety for
the fate of a purse full of gold Napoleons,
of forty francs each, Irks* was in one of
the pockets, gave redoubled Vekaity to his
stepe. Caniche ran full speed to his mas
ter's house, where the stranger arrived a
MODSOntafterwards breathless and
He accused the dog of robbing him e 7r, '
said tho master, "my , dog la a very fidthful
area ; and if he has rtst'assy with your
breeches it is because you have io them
money which does not belong to you." The
traveler became still more exasperated.—
"Compose yourself sir," rejoined the other
smiling; "without doubt there is in your
purse a six-iliner , piece, with such marks,
which you have picked up in the Boulevard
St. Antoine, and whiqh Ithrew down there
with the.firm conviction that my dog would
bring it back main. 'This is the cense of
the robbery which helms committed-upon
you." The stranger's rage now yield.ed to
astonishment ; he delivered the six-livre
piece to the owner, - and could not forbear
caressing the dog which had given him so
much uneasiness and such an unpleasant
Piooolomini Mooed by . 111:11take.
Train OP. Clafkiik 1 4. 11 /Pirlits
- .During Piccolomini's late sojourn at the
Spencer House, in this city, the following
incident occurred through a mistake, as
natural as it must have been agreeable.
A young gentleman, residing in the north
ern part of this State, received a letter this
week, from his sister, who had been attend
ing school in Kentucky, stating that she
would be on a certain day at the Spencer
House, where two friends of hers were
going, and that she would like for him to
arrive in good season and accompany her
The brother, Alfred, came at once, for he
had not seen his sister for nearly two years,
having passed much of that time in New
York, and, on arriving at the hotel, asked
for Mimi and the number of her room.
Hoping to surprise her agreeably, he tho't
he would suprise her unannounced, having
learned the floor and the position of the
apartment. Just; before he reached the
room he saw his siSter,'as he supposed, com
ing out. She was small, plump, as when
he saw her last, and thought he would con
ceal himself behind the wall of the hall
until she came opposite. He did ho, and
in another moment a pair of little feet
were falling in pedal music upon the floor.
She was within reach of him. It was she,
of course, he thought., although the gather
ing shadows of tl* evening rendered ob
jects somewhat indistinct. That little head
with dark tresses; and humming of an air
—always his sisterfs habit—made him con ti
deht. lie would hesitate no longer; so be
extended his arm* and:elasping thedimin
utive figure before( him, and bending down
and imprinting three or four cordial kisses
on one of the most delicious of months, he
asked, "Don't you know your brother, you
little rogue."
The - little rei.ttee" looked blank with
amazement, and ; then, muttering' some
thing very sweet but not intelligible, slip
ped out of his half-enclasped arms, and re
treated in the direction she had Mile,
Alfred now saw he must have made a
mistake; and, as rioone appeared, be went
to the senior proprietor, to explain the awk
ward position in which ho had been placed,
having no desire to be compelled to be shot
at, or lie shot., by some genuine brother.
The Colonel, who was well acquainted
with Alfred, informed him that he had pais
taken Picoolomini for his sister.
For the first time the brother learned
that the diminutive divinity was in the
city, and immediately wrote heran apolog,
saying he could not regret what had °colt.-
red on his own account, but would, if she
desired it, on hers. He bad no idea he was
pressing the Psychean lips of the loveliest
and most fascinating songstress in the world,
and that the mistake had Qnly taken place
because she was as beautiful as his sister.
She had his most humble lipology for what
had occurred, and if she would not be sat
isfied he would return her what he had
When this note was translated to the be
witching Marie, as she was assured of it*
sincerity, she laugited immoderately 4 and
said she had supposed perhaps hinging a
pretty girl (here shei looked very archly ), on
meeting her, was an American custom. It
had frightened her p i first, but now she did
not care, for, said e, in her attractive
English Tuscan : ,•Ze klieg deed me •no
'arm—indeed it yea not Ito dees—vat you
say eet is?—deeble."
sir The Gettysburg (Pa.) papers record
the death. of the twin daughters of Abra
ham Guise, of that coon*, utithe 44th year
of their age, and add: They !embank and
reared together--sever Ilporated for a
single night during their ltrea—took the
same disease, (measles,) died within a few
hours of each other, and were buried side
by side in the saute grave-
ggi. When Gen. Ethan Allen was a pelisse!
in Canada, he um dining within parq Of ofil
(Mg sad their ladies and swing some red
peppers en the table, intended tthim out up with
the nteat, to season it, he pi Aad one up and put
It In his mouth. After chew ft althikottOon the
tough skin, he poked ft stiV Olds mouth, and
Waling rather a4ahin,* ni it said, the tears
*Ain in his 'yam 4 4 Lathes and pedestal if
Ton have no oWethins, I *ill put this little
red thZ . hack," objections, I will pin this
little thing back," and he immediately
suited the Ration to the world,
Tim I'd 1 411„
The 6 madteer soft h ;
The reela eeproolg—tio mell4ms Le
Tim Wale mfg--4he lhaeied woe—
All time ease beat dreams,
The gleam' of therielmm Lime—
My old Mem with-Us Wade* themes.
n • Imes deed ponies of my prime.
A 000n,ozzoWA L