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Y HAWLEY &CRUSER
I sit by my open window, '
Looking toward , the sea,
With a heavy heart, and 'a :mute regret,
That a •day came round when Nle ever
But alas I it was to be.
Far over the waste of waters
I see by • the aid of my. glass,
A. ship in full sail, the same as of old, •
But now with the freikht there's.a bride
I'm told, .
Oh, why did it , eorne to pass ?
Cannot the wind and the roaring surf
Sending their breakert in, '
ReTeal her fair face and chant me her years,
And whether she lives in smiles or in
tears, ° ' •
I would not count it a sin.
I know it should matter little,
To ,hear of this bride of a day.
Let her face be ever so plain or fair,
Sunny;ok sad, Oh, why 'should 1 care I
In the ship that sails away.
For me his asking is over,
• The captain's in truth gone by,
The longed for "yes"' has been asket twice
in vain, 1 !
"I said you must wait; t 11 in por \ again,
And please : do not ask me hy.','
Why it waits, and who shall say,
(While I give a ,broli?ri sigh t ?
That love was less than pride, whose Row
Controlled my heart in a fatal hour,
And so the ship sailed by.
44 EAR AUDLEY,dwiII you, always
D love me ?". And the beautiful ques
tioner, glanced - pleadingly into Audley
Wilford's fickle, but fascinating Counte
That gentleman took the,pretty girlish
face between his' hands, and kissed the
rosy lips for his answer. 7 hen, speaking
with lover like fervor, he said : "Noth
ing in this world will ever change' me ;
absence will but prove how deep and un - =
fathomable is the love I hear for you; my
Ellen ; and were it MA I for my uncle, .I
would not leave you, but his will must
be my law."
"Cannot you take me with you, AUd.•
'Nay, Ellen. Sister Pessie will love
you as a sister, and on my returnlrom
this mission of my uncle's, I be
Frond and happy to claim you before the
Long the lovers conversed, \ till the
shades of night closed over the earth,and
then, leaving Ellen Pevton in tears,
Audley. Wilford started for his uncle's
Audley WillOrd wai the - nephew of
wealthy Sir Vere. That , gentleman had
adopted him when a child,-had educated
him, and now wished him Ito go to India
to tran s act some business, and visit
places of note for. his' own (Audley's)
Audley, not vet 23 years of age,. gay,
social, anc: fickle, only top readilraccept
ed hie uncle's handsome Offer, forgetting
that he was in love with the iirlish Ellen,
and only recalled to it by aeeing her at
his sister Bessie's. Then ensued the con=
versation given at the commencement of
Three yearo later; Sir'Vere Wilford sat
in his Beesie's :parlor, holding Eilen's
band in his own. I :
."Tell me, Ellen, the ' name of this' fel
low,,and I will chastise him ?" exclaimed
the irate Baronet, is he - listened to the
recital of her desertion. ; •
"You must brotinse, sir, never to men
tion it agaiii, and to - leive : his tate in my
handsr . l
"I will ; promise anything:dear Ellen,.
if you will be my cherished wife. And
the man of 40, hatillsorne, stately, alai
good, t4t her little hand and pressed it
itypectfuly to his lip., j 1,
"Wit you be content with my respect,
Sir Vere ?,
,_.9h,, believe me, 1 can never
lure anyone as I loved him.",,
"1 will accept your respect, if yotk - vFill
tell me`if:Whom van ~love ii. liVing 'or
atlid." 1 , '1 -
"Dead t,o mer was the low- : nreathed
lenly. Then she raised her beautiful eyes
to meet his gaze of reverent . love, be:lin
ing upon her. - . '
It was a sudden 'engagement, and sixd
marriage ~.but. the bride looked `no
1.8 8 beautiful, in: herl saowy Satin robes
and bridal wreath. 1,1,
Oitiv a.month married,and Lady-Ellen
Wilfi.rd sitslu twr'elegant boudoir, read
ing over an, old letter, penned by a well
known hand, and dated btut three weeks_
prior to, her marriage. : lit ran 'thus : . -
` . You must` have been misinformed, ,
Tear uncle, for, I ftiever *loved , ii'.• girl Such
1 18 you described ,to me, ' The name is
eertainly'unfamiliar. ,Sdirly ‘i,t_ was not
my sister Besiie who told yon 'Such false
hoods ?, I shall be , badlf. -soon; and, per
ellance,,briug- a :apt e wit.) •ine—one Who
heat , for she is
will win your ric4 and
t hnroughly - accomplished:'.• . , --' . .-'
Lady Ellen clenched her white fluke*
and then exclaimed; .bitterly, - ,"-So you
never loved her ? Sister Bessie did. not
but Ellen did ; and you
pliant yet ; and Ellen, the
loved, shall; triumphlover
shall be a sup
girl yon never
Was it piq
e. . ...•
, tover, or unrequited `.tove
ady Ellen Alk the - 416°r,
ilken robes - over the costly
ing, her white hands till the
0 the flesh. , We shall see.
jewels ; cut in
• "Hit cann a
him. If, be
onr . joy. Yc ,
as de, be i
cheeks, not '
it Tere ? lie will' mar our
ear, with his; mild 'imp."
t be helped, darling. Re
he may: bring a wife with
should, they-will leave U 8 to
U will soon learn to love ham
So frank, n.014e, and—"
ileti •added,4 , with a smile,
usband patt d her crimson
oting the burning glow on ,
your. wife, my boy ? Bring
e'll make the happiest eir
e I" exclaimed' Sir Wilford
1, bearded, and bronzed man
t,, • t .
le, to say the truth,she elop
officer, and aerveu me right,
red for her money." •
. "Where is
her in, an.d
cle tiny wbe
Vere . to a to
• "W by, 'lan
ed with an
for I, on lyie
ran his fingers through his
face. "W h:
ten to prese
upon his u
1 to conceal his corrugated
:re is my new ,
, 81113 t-r Do has.
ilt me ;"and placing his hand
oleo' arm, the pair walked on
• rindeniablyi splendid men,
e like brothei•s, and Elbowing
erence in age. Sir Vere, if
4 peared to be the younger of
but little dt,
the two. I
.n half reclined on a crimson
ress of maiik—colored satin,
ft folds around her beautiful,
was a picture worthy of ad
tut Sir Verel thought there
more of that feeling express
phew's gaze than was requir
broke the silence by saying,
s is the boy I spoke to you
1 you love him for my sake F"
ed, but she rgse; and holding
d,exclamed warmly,"l think
rge\ enough Ito be loved for
e ; but I will, try to like a. lit
sake, Sir Vere."
Lute(' ,• but, as she held ont
- greet him, hi recovered him
sofa, her c
falling in sc
was a trifle
ed in his tic
ed. So he
• She fins
oat her ha
Audley is 1.
:his own sa
her bend t
.ys. after AndlPy's return, he
ng his way through the
lien he came upon a scene of
eauty. • '
vines for Med an arch over an
I untain of ,wLite marble. .By
Ellen, idly' (toying with •the
her wrapper.( Lovely . as an
ooked, with the folds of her
•ess failing carelessly,graceful
er s one tiny slippered foot
m 'beneath her robe. Fairy
i petted . its Magic portals for
ilford's del4ation ; but , an
stood by to guard its queen,
.instant, a uick, firm tread
dley from his rapt gaze, while
sprang up ~ w ith the quick
a gazelle, and met, not the
iley, but his uncle, her bus
glanced firstlat Audley,whom
ust seen ; then at; his Wife.- 7 -:
1, .for the fir,st time i!! forty
r.V ere' a honorable life, crossed
bat 'he quicikly banished it
who had bee,n the first to re
, the weather, and a dozen
i that were .fa. from occupying
and weeks afterwards, Lady
constantlt , leading Audley on.
he found her in the library
east he ti:night so. Had he
►rin behind the curtained win- ,
Uld not have ,been so reckless'.
1, he bu:st forth in burning
assion, calling Ellen, "his best
half frightened at liii itnpet
it she soon r i ecoverecr herself,
Ike - a statue b,efore• him.' Her
ly added to ,the flame. Then
his tones to words of entreaty
hitn;"tO burst the wretched
A few \ db
was - wendi
it sat Lady
land had I
for, on th
s t tied A
Lady • Elle
gaze of . A
yrars of Si]
his mind , ;
her mind j
seen the f
Ow, he w
As it was
words of r ,
She , rose
nosity. : B
her as she
now bound' :he r to .a man 'old
be. her father;and, did not love
'Should. loied !", Then . she
into otlangery.pOde and
Wilford, years have .come . and
you drety wbrds of.love from
tit, you left Me;and wooed, and
r. 1 You start, and ' well' you
ingtead of her desertion, as
old your' uncle, you betrayed
d to give_ her. the name of
.41 0 b
-in. yo urchyard I She
II ings, your victim,
se,artns, Mt me to avenge
I &Mud! 'dastard ! I hate you
selose to yqur benefactor your
e shall drive you from the
)as shelteree you for so many
won anoth I
may ; for,
'wife an 1
died- in. th
yettra ri - ; '
! , '43 - iilit,liiiv
en trernbled ‘yithem9tion i and
'lford stepped; t in her Ode, and
, diuni lier t 43 his arras bad
rtain'. been' thiust - aside, arid
Ilford' appe#Ed. With aut.
MONTROSE, PA., .A.UG-UST - 16, 1876.
*. - *
stretched hand , 'be pointed to the door,
and •said with ayvoiee, ciphering-With ag
ppy,4l‘Go, .ere I forget
strike you to the earth." ,
Audley Wilford =was, like . all 'ingrates, a,
collard.; but he'WOUld not leave 'the RiLs:
sees* of : her: who-,:iae- 'dearer than - MS
"He placed his hand,quick aslig6tning,
in his breast,and.drew forth a pistol. His.
uncle sprang . forward, s , juat., as he, pulled
the trigger; and'received the.shot,.nOt as
'Audley aimed. but-in his arm.
Then, •as the husband fell; Audley
wound .his• arm around Ellen, and totci
bly 'drew her toilard - the floor.
:But the servants 'Came trooping in,
brought there by. the loud ringing. report
of the pistol ;- and -in a-- moment the
would be ossissin was pinioned.
The .tragedy was not ended ; for an
other report • follolied the capture, and
Andley.Wilfordlay upon the floor, dead
—shot through the heart. (.
Ellen sprang to her husband, and,with
the assistance of servants, raised him to,
.the sofa.. The, wound was
but fever set in,and many weeks' Sir Vere
lay, on a bed of tinguish•; - • . .
His beautiful wife, untiring in her ef
forts for his restoration, was but the pale
shadow of herself ; but time soon tinted
-her cheeks again, ;the thin - form - grew
rounded and toll, while the eyeasparkled
with joy and love. . •
Never_ a word was uttered: of "the
dead?' Even the name was dropped by
tacit consent.; Secnre . in each other's
love,. no .cloud •darkened . .the horizon of
their lives, outwardly ; husband
inwardly, both. felt.- that. the :wronged
Mary Hastings was amply avenged.
It was Lady Ellen, who had avenged
THE HIGH FORCE.
IAM DYING. The doctor says I may
last a month, or may riot live "through
the night. I feel weak, very weak. I
don't fear death, but I cannot with.
out confessing a . crime that hae blighted
my life—a crime whose heinousness is
such that.' doubt not yog will deem my
narrative the wild creatfdn of a fevered
brain. • •
Many years ago—it seems 8o far back
that I can scarcely -realize• ths I am the
same person as the happy, careless ath
lete of those days—l lived in a northern
cathedral city.. Many years ago it seems
but I know it is only two,two little years
—they might have been as many centur
ies—l had a friend Charles •Walton. \We
rowed in many a race together ; we were
almost brothers ; and yet—and yet—ah,
me t. It was one - very sultry evening in
June, just two years ,ago, Charles and
were in training for the el local regatta,and
were out on the river in a pair. We had
rowed over the course, and were resting
on our oars and talking over our chances
Just where we rested there were houses
on both, sides of the river.; On one side
tumble -down. tenements, relics of the
good old times when our present style of
architecture was unknown ; ragged,-un
comfortable, squalid, and yet picturesque,
they embayed windows-over-hanging the
river. On . the other side, a new row of
hotwes stlisod in all. the glory of their
freshly - laid on stucco. A roadway ran
aloug the hank of the river in front, and
a RON of terrace formed dui approach to
My attention was sadiiNtly riveted to a
slight figure leaning on the railing that
protected' the terrace.
Ah, that evening How: well I re
The glory of the ennset gradually fad
ing in the twilight—the river slowly
growing darker and darker as the shades
of night draw on—that angel face•--that
fairy form—all—all come back to me
now 1 .
Better far that I had died then than
lived till now.
lAit something tells me my time is
short. I most promd.
I found out her name--,Harriet ;nev
er mind her surname. . . 1 SaW her again
and yet - again. A chance meeting at the
.ft friend procured me an intro
duction, and I.wati in the seventh heaven
of delight. .; -
I saw . her often--very often... We went
to church together, with her aged moth
er ; visited the various places of_aqiuse
ment in the little `cathedral town ; and
when the winter had bound the river in
its rigid embrace, often we sped 'together
hand 'in hatid over Ole glistening ice.
One afternoon, when skating with her,
a chance rencontre with my , friend
Charles, whose Roeiety I had . rather neg
lected ofs late, gave me no chance but to
introduce him to my darling.
He seemed quite struck with her, and
—But why do. 1 . . torture myself with
these memories ? Eliough _ Harriet
gre* gradually colder: and colder to me.
I--began to- meet he: often now .with
Charles—my friend l Oh, how I got to
hate.him! You" will probablv-now guess
I met Charles.- one day in the street,
looking radiantly 'happy. .-
"Congratplate me.old fellotvl" he iaid.
"She has accepted me 1"
"She !.' I said.
explicit. Who ?'!
"Who r ht- answered - ; "why, Harriet,
of course ! I thought you knew I ,was
in love with. her, and—But, what's the
matter, old man . ? You're ill ! You've
overtrained ! :I told . you - you were doing
too . much work ! Come inhere and 'have
With a_great Out .managed to keep
down my fury. and, pleading an engage
ment, I left him abruptly.
From that moment 1 determined that
Charles should never marry Harriet ;'and
in the stillness of the night I brooded
over my wrongs, until some demon whis
pered "rev.enge ;" and graduslly the
thought preyed More and more 11000 me,
and at last I matured a scheme, refined
iu.cruelty and•secure from detection.
I think 1. ;aye already explained to
you that there were houses opposite to
the one occupied by Harriet and her
, mother on the other Hide or the mei.
In one of these I secured lodgings., I
gave up all my athletic purauits,plading
illness, and spent
.all my time in watch
ing that house and maturinglny plans
I often saw * Charley come to the house.
I saw her wait at the window and watch
for him, and' her radiant smile of wel
come when his stalwart form appeared.--
I saw their farewells o'n the terrace of an
evening.; I could almost fancy I heard
their whnspPrkl words of lase-; and 'the
demon took complete possession of me.
The summer was coming round again,
and the day fixed for Charley's marriage
was . nigh ar hand.
I proposed that we should. have one :
more mivatic trip.together. He suspect
ed nothing, and 'consented ; and one
beautiful morning in June we started in
canoes for - the High Force, a picturesque
waterfall some distance from the town up
• The demon no i cF raged within me, and
I was.powerless to go back from my ven
geance if I had Wished it ever so.'
We reached our destination about noon
on the second day after *we had started,
and had luncheon together on a cliff that
overh tig the fails.•
The river at this point ran swiftly in a
narrow gorge ' and then . sprang i at least
two hundred feet shear into a broad,shal
loW pool below4rom whence it wandered
slowly toward the town we had left—one
of us forever.
I drugged the wine , we had brought
with us, and erelong Charles - laid he felt
unac:-ountably drowsy, and.soon, in fact,
dropped off to Sleep, with' his handker 7
cbief over his fake.. .
Then I set toWork. • I carried his ca
noe up, and launched it, at.d. fastened it
by the painter to a - willow some two hun
dred yards above Abe falls.
Then 1 placed my friend in it, and tied
him in a sitting position, taking care to
place the ropes so - that they should come
loose when the canoe went to pieces, but
not before. .
I then sat down and waited.
After about half an hoar the effects, of
the narcotic began to wear off.
Charles opened his eyes And looked va
cantly- around. • •
"Where am I ?" be said ; "I have been
asleep, I think."
"Charles," I cried ; "it is now your
'tun to sleep foi a long time ! You Un
derstand.. Youishall never marryHar
"Percy, you cannot mean—"
"1 do. You are now above the High
Ffirue. Listen ! You ,can hear the dash
of the _waters. see-bow the spray rises.
The current, as ion see,runs very swiftly'.
If you wish to lsay a-,prayer, I will give
you time for that, but n'o mor e ."
He looked daied` for a moment ; then
the danger of hie: position seemed to
burst upon him, and he uttered 'a 'cry of
rage and struggled. violently ; but the
ropes 'were too strong , for, him. •
He strug,2lodiin vain.
I took out my clasped knife and opeu 7
-"For the love you once `bore me,.Per
"Yes, " I interposed ; "you must dib !"
He uttered a series of piercing shrieks,
and again strove to buret his fetters.
stepped bar* appalled, and half re
pentant- oi- my purpose.
The shrieks ceased, and ,there came a
Then the demon within me swaYed my
cat the rope.
The host •was'swept • by the current in
to .the . middle r of the stream.. It. caught
in an eddy, and ;made two or three revo!
lutions, and then drifted down swiftly
tuwardd the falls.. -
- The noire of-;the rushing waters in
creased. ran jalong the bank. ',saw
Charles's face _pallid and fixed, sternly
rigid and terror-stricken at the wilderness
of,foam towhiph he was' now rushing
with' frigh ful rapidity . . - •
Ile gave one despairing cry that I could
hear abote the thunder of Mitt cataract
and tnen—and, then. my_ reienee was
Ad I had anticipated, Charles's death
*wiii set , down - to ary accidOrt ; no one ev
er dreamed of suspecting, me. his chosen
"Pray be a littittmore
*,0,.....,.. --. 3.3 . ..N..0...' : 33
The canoe was dashed to pieces, and
the ropes bad been so -skillfully . placed
that they, did_ not betray me. -
Harriet sent for me, but I dare not see
her. . : I could not see those . drearny, gray,
reproachful. eyes, but they seemed ever
before me. ' - '
I went abroad for some months.
When . I returned, there was a atone in
a village churchyard. hard by the cathed
ral city,that told me-I had sold . myself to
the demon in, vain.
Harriet bad not long survived her lov
Now ;on will say that Ii ammad, but I
am not. lam (I.ong=dying without one
hope of forgiveness—dying - with the
,Cain upon my brows ! But I
am not mad I Would I were I
A Truly Grown'. Widower.
Sir Walter Scott used to be fond of
telling - the following story of his cousin .
"Watty." Watty aforesaid was a Mid
shipman in the British navy. On a cer
tain occasion he. and his messmates had
gone on shore at Portsmouth, and had •
overstayed their leave, besides spending
all theic money and running up .a bill at
a taver9 at the. Point. Their ships made
signal for sailing, peremptorily calling all
hands on board, but, when they
have started the landlady said :
•INo, gentle Men, you cannot escape/
without, paying your reckoning." And
to confirm her words, She called a bailiff
and his pcsse to take - charge of them.
The - Midshipmen felt' they were in a
bad scrape and begged to be released.
"No, no," said the resolute matron, "I
must be satisfied in some way. Yon must
be aware, gentlemen, that you will be to
tally ruined and disgraced if you do not
go on board in time.
They groaned bitterly, for they knew 'r
she spoke the truth.
"Well," she continued, "I wilt give yon
all -a chance. I am so circumstanced here
that I cannot well 'carryon my busiriess
as a single woman, and must contrive
somehow to- have a husband, or,-at all
events, I must be able to.produce a maim
riage certificate. Now the 'only terms
upon which I will set you free are that
one of you shall consent to marry, me 1 I
don't-care a snap whichit is but ooe of
you" will have for a husband, or else
you all go 'to jail, and your ship milt
without you. -
The vixen was not to be coaxed or en- 1
treated.- -• Tears and prayers were of n o
avail. After a time the poor middies
agreed to draw lots: - Watty drew 'the
matrimonial slip of doom. No time was
to be lost. A - marriage license was speed.
ily procured, and they went to the near
est church, where the knot was tied.—
The biide on their return to her tavern
gave them 'a good dinner, and then sent
them off in her wherry, Of her own
accord she had proposed to her husband'
that, as -the marriage certificate was her
chief prize, he was at libertylo live apart
from her forever if he so chose.
The ship sailed . , and the young gentle
man religiously adhered to the oath of
secresy they had made previous.to draw
ing lots. iliear after, at.. Jamaica, a file
of English papera reachod the Midship
men's berth, and Witty, carelessly look
ing them over, was attracted by the ac
count of a robbery and murder,, and the
eieeution of the culprits at Portsmouth.
Suddenly leaping to his fe-4, and waving
the paper above his head, forgetful of his
oath in 'the excitement of ecatasy,he cried
out, : "Thank'. Heaven ! My wife is
hanged !" . •
Jas. Blain In Another per .
The proprietor 01 - a Gratott avenle
saloon wonh vote fo" James G. Blaine,
and that is a settled fact. Some then
were'yesterday, seeking ,to ascertain the
cause of, his, animosity toward Maine's
fltivorite son," and he explained
"You see,. when I Vhas keeping saloon
in Pufralo dot Mr:'Blaine come aronndt
and - dook 8011113 . drinks and. nefer bald ,
"Oh, that can't he, this Blaine," re
plied one of +,h,3 men ; "this Blaine is a
temperance man, ! '' '
"Zo vhas this 'Plolna," was ',the calm'
reply, "I can shust rempmper as blain
as day how.be boured dot *bloke.) , down
his thrott rind groaned over some in- •
creusc of indeniperariee."
"Bnt this Blame is James G. Blaine,"
“I • can't help dot, I didn't name him.
Don Plaine who owes me is named
Shimeti. Then I ask for mylia7 be set:
'Sharg3 does' drinks to,Shim Plaine; and
"You must be mistaken. This Blaine
is a member of Omigress...
"Zo vhos dot Plaine. He " couldn't
spheak some Woes in Congress like
"There is a mistake somewhere. You
have got two Values mixed up. Here
is a picture of, James G.' Blaine. See if
he is the man who played dead beat on
The: aloonist - glanced at it s : and hand
No use shentleinen, I 'shall boll My
vote for de oder Mlke':"