ID Pith (r)alr. YOUR OVERCOAT. TAKE CAR Preen. Si Vat. Not y gloves are on. Two GENTLEMEN OF TIMONA 'THAT'S a very pretty overcoat, James has just laid- upon the sofa, Harry,' said Mrs. Gor don to her son, looking at a sleek, plump, wadded paletot, which the servant had just brought in from the tailor;' 'but you must excuse the question, and not think me a very stingy or curious specimen of womankind.-- What can you do with so many overcoats? Why, this must be the third'— 'The fifth, my dear.,mother,' replied Harry Gordon, lookitig over the top of his news paper, with his bright black eyes; which his mother, like ninny others of her sex, never looked at without admiring; 'the fifth; and I shouldn't wonder that, before the winter is over, I shnJl have to say, with Banquo, and `,yet an eighth appears." 'IM see no more,' interrupted Mrs. Gordon, laughing .You wont see them any more, my dear mo ther—meaning the overcoat—fur I assure you, they vanish like the witches' visions; and where the deuce they go to, I can't tell you— all I can say is, that men, when they come away frqm balls, can't sec quite as clearly as when they go there; for somebody always takes mine, and leafes me nothing—not even an old one.' 'Proving that seine people must, when they leave these,balls, not only haVU an obs Cured vision, but actually see double, and taking themselves for two men, put on two paletots Kell, Harry, my son, it is at least a consola tion to find that you are always in a most exemplary state of sobriety; your overcoats bear witness to your devotion to the Maine Law—for if the man who takes two paletots, is--:-whatever men call it—slightly exhileratoil, I believe is the polite term—the man tvho gets no overcoat at all, can have got no wine. So, my sober son, let me:diligently prepare for you another cup of this beverage, 'which cheers, but not inebriates." Aud Mrs. Gordon begun to pour out the tea; for the net• overcoat had arrived as she and her -son were sitting at breakfast, one cold morning in January. - They were a happy pair, this mother and son; there were few so called 'loving couples' that could match them. To have opened any ? of the splendid dining-room doors, where on that morning everybody was at breakfast, in this grand street leading into Fifth Avenue— a street short, pompous, and plethoric, from having swallowed up the ground of twelve houses, and digested it into six—ono would not have found a more inviting breakfast table, before which to draw a • Well-stuffed chair, and sit down, on this cold, freezing, raining, sleeting, slippery, sloppy, January morning. The Ere, an unctuous, blazing Liverpool coal-fire, flamed in the grate, and a small round table, with its snow-white cloth, bright siver tea-trappings, and its chaste gilded cups and saucers, was drawn cozily up to it—the solemn square dining-table remaining im movable in its usual place, in the centre of the soft, bright carpet., Seated opposite each other. in low, broad, lazy arm-chairs, that 'looked intended as a transition from the repose of the night to the toils of the day, wore Mr. Harry Gordon and his mother. Mrs Gqrdon had been left a widow, with an easy jointuro and a little boy, at an early age. For the sake of the jointuro, Mrs. Gordon had found many suitors; but for the sake of the boy, she had refused them all ; and his af fection, his devotion, had well rewarded her, if, indeed, she lost anything by not having a husband—a doubt which we do not presume to solve. As for Mr. Harry Gordon, ho was what a boy, well endowed by nature With intellect and heart, would ever be, if mothers would condescend to develop the ono and direct the other. He was generous, conscientious, high-spirit ed, contented with himself, the world, things in general, and his own in particular; fond of society, which returned the compliment, and rnade an idol of him; glorying in his home, which, since ho could lisp the word, had been 'made the bright oasis of his life—and adOring his mother, whom he thought sent into the world as a typo of every virtue and excellence —his tender, his refined, his beautiful (Harry notutally thought her beautiful, though she was forty) mother, whose image and sweet memory had, in the multifarious temptations of a young man's existence, so often stood be tween him and harm. How could ho be guilty of any action he could not tell his pure, noble mother, as was his custom every morning, as they lounged over their breakfast-table? This hour, or rather these hours, were exclusively his mother's—the hours In which she laughed with him at the fun and frolics of his evening's exploits—related for her amusement; or coun seled him, as he told her his hopes and fears, the dilemmas and perplexities of his businesa life; for, though Harry was a groat man in the ball-room up-.town, ho was a man of no smalNimpoitan - Ce dew too-Lwhere he had taken his father's pingo - in one of the largest commercial houses. Harry was no idler, no lazy fop—no languid 'Young . American.' Ho dicknot disdain any thing, not even the dusty old counting-aouse, where his father and his father before him, had made so much money; and ho 'spent. it nobly and judiciously for'tho good of all. But Harry's mother, surd of his steadiness and high principle, of his industry and energy in his career, as a citizen and a merchant, strove in every way to make his young days bright and happy, by forwarding his amuse ments when the hours of toil were over. She herself had given up, from sheer indif ference, hor position in the 'world;' but her connections enabled •her to launch Harry into our best society. Then, when ho had his friends to entertain, there vias no need of bar rooms or club-rooms, or restaurants; Mrs. Gordon was delighted to open her house--her Harry's home—to his friends. To remain with ospitable grace receiving thorn, and ad din a charm to all, by her wit and cheerful ne,s—or merely to see that all was right for Harry and his guests, if, with his arm round her, and a little tap on her cheek, Harry look: ing admiringly at her, would say— 'Mother mind, din cr for six, to-morro w — iced champagne, if yryG pleasU, madam—any thing else you like—but your fair self—your ladyship's presence will be dispensed with on this occasion.' • Then Harry's mother would laugh, and shake her finger at him, and cheerfully set about the necessary preparations. But she was nowise offended or alarmed at prohibi tion regarding herself, for she knew that youth has its frolics; she actually imagined that young men living in the world, might have things to talk about, and ways of talking about them, which could nriso interest her. a woman. But she did not, Yet. that, imagine that the orgies of ancient Rome were to be enacted under her roof; she knew that Harry respected it and her too much for that. In fact, Gordon was a model woman; knew her own duties and her own position, and ful filled both; still Harry was so happy, that (this was the great charge against him from the girls in upper-tendom,) he did not appear to think in the least that ho wanted a wife. Yet there were many who could have reminded him that he was five-and-twenty—that he was rich, prosperous; and had a fine house, all ready furnished, and that all ho wanted was a wife. But ho was very•obtuse on this point— the idea could not be got into his brain. Still, Harry went everywhere; and on the morning we have made his acquaintance, he had just finished a most spirited description of a grand Fifth Avenue fete, at which the flowers alone had cost fifteen hundred dollars, and at which Mr. Harry Gordon had danced innumerable schottiSlies, rodowas, and polkas —won no end of hearts, and lost—his over coat. 'But you dear, stupid Harry!' continued Mrs. Gordon, after her son had given her a description_ of the various mishaps and myy terious disappearances attending his overcoats; 'did it never ocour to you to put your name into your paletots?' 'Heavens, mother! what an idea! Rave one's name written on one's coat collar, so that if you hang your coat over your seat at the theatre, or throw it down in a public room, everybody may say, ever afterward, 'there goes John Smith!" 'Oh, I beg pardon,' said Mrs.:Gordon; 'well, let us resort to a half measure, then, and sup pose we carelessly drop ono of your own cards into the pocket—so,' said Mrs. Gordon, and walking across the room, she put her advice in practice, and deposited in it a smooth piece of pasteboard, on which was engraved— 'HARRY GORDON, No. —., -- Street.' That evening, ho again betook himself to ono of the aristocratic camelia, fetes, with which the merchant princes about this time celebrate the advent of a now year. What were his exploits there, we are not about to set down, for they concern us not—nor did they him; for, as he danced along the broad pavements, so shining and crackling under his feet, all ho thought Of was that he really had secured his new overcoat this time—and that it was mighty comfortable, too, for the sharp cutting wind blow in his face. But be merely put back his hair from his eyes, and throw up his head with a sort of bold deflanCe, as if to enter into contest with this same /Bolus—(tho proper type of envy, nagging, irritotiog, rest. lees, and inevitable as it is)—for nothing could put Harry out of temper. So, as wo have said, he went dancing along, his hands in the pockets of his now palotot, them playing with the' card his dear mother had herself put into it. 'Dear, kind mother,' thought Harry, 'deuced cold I should have been without her, though, after that hot room and the sharp two hours' cotillion. Graceful girl, that Emily Sykes, but she hasn't such beautifteyes as Eliee prows. Ellen Drew's eyes arf) so bright, se sparkling. Talking of sparkling, by the bye, that was famous champagne old Groves us; how queer ho looks, though, in his fine rooms, so,timit.firiold, ready if he's snubbed, to apologize for being there. All! ah! clever ° felloW, though, in a business way.. By(the bye, wonder if the Asia's in—her news may make the difference of a. few thousandg to us -everything mighty dull in Enrope,.they say. 'That Prima Donna waltz_ is pretty—'it has a dying fall.' By Jove! it is cold, though! that gust, just asl i tut:nsd the corner, quite set my teeth on edge. Lucky the famous overcoat is padded and stuffed like a mattrass, or mother's darling might have caught a con sumption. Well, here I am—but who's come, and what's the matter?' continued Barry, as, within a few steps of his home, ho perceived that there was a carriage at the door, and a gentleman standing on the steps, evidently waiting for him. • Ile hastened on; but scarcely did he set:ll;s foot on the first step, before the gentleman he had seen on the top of them, rushed down, putting one hand on his arm to secure him. whilst with the other be held a piece of paste board tit'ards him, exclaming in a loud, angry tone— 'Are you Mr. Harry Gorton?' 'I am, sir,' said Harry, drawing away from his grasp, much astonished and somewhat of fended at the peremptory manner in which ho was addressed, though his interrogator was a stout old gentleman, - and ,in a State of con• siderablo excitement: 'Then, sir, you've got my overcoat, and my overcoat's got the key of my house in the pocket; one of you're precious New York boarding-houses, where the Irish servants are as grand and sleepy as their masters, and wont stir, sir. I wish we had them nt the South for a little:training, that's all! Why, we rang, and rang, and rang, and waited, and shouted —bless you, sir, we might as well have shout ed to the towers of Trinity Church. So I found your card, and in despair I came here after my key—and yote_ve stayed at that stupid ball so Into, dancing away in those confounded hot rooms, whilst I've been dancing here, sir, on your cold stoop, waiting for my paletot and my key.' With these words, the gentleman began vio lently to take off his coat. Harry, perfectly astounded at the fatality which appeared to attend his overcoats, had listened with resign ed humiliation to the reproachful harangue, and with a sort of dogged desperation, began to abstract himself from the garment he had so praised and so pressed to his bosom, and after all, was not his own. 'Here, sir, here,' said the old gentleman, holding out Harry's overcoat; 'here's your coat, (devilish tight it was—l only wonder I didn't split it in the back,) and there's your cord, back again in the pocket. Now give me mine, and let me get my key.' Harry held forth the offending paletot, which bad so deserted its master, and the old gentleman, before he took it from him, began eagerly to feel iu the pockets. 'By Heaven, sir, you've lost the key!' 'Lost the key, sir! there was no key in it Mien I put it on, I assure you.' 'No key?' 'No, sir—only a card,' replied Harry, hold ing out the card with which ho had fumbled on his way home. 'A card!' shouted the strange gentleman, in a perfect tone of horror; 'a card! I put no onrd there!' and running up to the neighboring gas-light, he exclaimed, understand it all— that aint my_paletot! I got yours, but oh, you didn't got mine! Sure enough,' continued ho, shaking the fatal coat, which hung still on Ilarry's arm; 'sure enough, that isn't mine.' Then turning round to the carriage, he ex claim, •Busy, Busy dear, what shall I do? Ile's come and be hasn't got the coat. I had his, but he's got somebody else's.' 'Who's papa?' replied a feminine voice, at voice Mr. Harry Gordon turned toward the carriage also, and beheld by the light of the gas-light, which fell full upon• it, a sweet little face, with heaps of light, crisp auburn ringlets, (kept in curl by the frost) clustering round it—the oval outline of the face, and the regular features, being defined by n delicate pink and white satin 'hood, which was tied closely under the chin. At the sight of this face, Mr. Harry Got.. don, doffing his hat, advanced to the carriage. 'The lady is right, sir,' said he, looking at the lady, but speaking to the gentleman; 'who's paletot have you got? Lot us read the card.' The old gentleman meohanioally held it out, and Harry's young and quick-sighted eyes red, by the uncertain light, some very twisted and elaborate characters,,, which together formed the name 0f;, . • ,• kn. 4'e Burrito, 'Whore ?' sold the old , gentleman. - , Where r exclaimed the voice from beneath the little pink and white satin hood ; 'whore, pa, dear, ie'nt Mr. J. Smith everywhere! Oh, pa, we aro martyrs to the Smiths and the' little hood laughed such a buoyant, divvy. catching laugh, that Harry couldn't help laughing too. ' It's mighty fine to laugh,' , said the old gentleman, standing petrified, .his eyes im movably fixed on the gorgon name ; 'but what's to' be done V 'Allow me to assist you, sir, I perceive you are o, stronger in Now yerk—l trust you will permit me to show you that wo hair° some hOepitality at the'North.• For the honor_ of the North I hope you will condescend to ac cept my proposition. My mother, sir, resides with me in this house ; you, if I understand right, have no family awaiting you nt hoine ;. you had better allow my mother, Mrs. Gordon, the pleasure of receiving this young lady for the night—whilst I, sir, can offer you a room. We have always ono or two. for our friends. 'Well, sir,' said the old gentleman, taking Harry's band and giving it a hearty shake . ; 'that's a kind offer—l didn't think you con done, mid - northerners wore capable of such a thing. My name's Mansfield, sir—Mansfield, of Alabama. Groves knows all about me— and this is mr . daughter, Susan, come up to see the lions.' 'Harry bowed, and the hood gave a gentle inclination forward, which brought some of the shining curls over its eyes ; but the tiniest little hand, protruding with just the white, round, small wrist, from the broad, white sleeve of the burnous, quickly thrust them back: 'And so, Mr. Gordon, I think'— 'Popo,' quickly interrupted Susan, 'you couldn't think of such a thing—waking Mrs. Gordon at this time of night. Indeed, sir,' added she, turning her eyes full on Harry, (by which he, who never lost an opportunity, dis covered that they were large, earnest, deep blue eves—just the eyes lie admired—very like his mother's he thought,) 'We could not think of troubling Mrs. Gordon—though we are, of course, very grateful to you. I think we must. try our boarding•house again, papa; unless'—and she turned sowewbat archly to ward Harry, with her little silvery laugh— 'unless,' continued she. 'Mr. Gordon - 'can tell us where Mr. T. Smith lives.' Harry laughed, and thought 'How wonder fully deep blue eyes can change their expres sion ! I wouldn't give a , fig for a woman that always looks the same, even though she were as beautiful as the Greek Blare!' 'I know a Mr. Smith,' interposed the dri ver; .and he nint far from here.' 'Lot's go,' said Mr. Mansfield, resolutely, opening the carriage door. 'Allow me to go With you,' said Gordon, really couldn't feel content if I knew you were wandering about in search of Mr. J. Smith. You know it's all my fault, and I know New York ways better than you do, and may per haps get at, Mr. J. Smith sooner than you Come along, and thank you.' Harry jumped in, the driver closed the door, end off they started in search of Mr. J. Smith. Barry sat opposite to the corner whence proceeded the little silvery laugh. Al! he could see was a sort of vapory cloud of gauze, and the tip of a little white satin shoe, on the dark carpet of the carriage, as they passed the gas-lights. By these same friendly lamps he perceived, also, the outline of a beautiful and graceful form, enveloped closely in a white satin bornous, with a heavy pink and white fringe. The deep blue eyes and the waving hair, which danced and played to the jolting of the carriage, and the yielding form nestled in the corner made a pretty picture. Scarcely were they on their way, before Miss Mansfield addressed him. `This is a most delightful adventure ! though I hope you wont take cold, papa— that would spoil it•' 'Put on Mr. J. Smith's paletot,' said Har ry, laughing. 'By Jove, I will I' replied Mr. Mansfield , hope it isn't as tight as yours.' 'You were at the Grove's, then?' said Harry. 6To be sure I was ;; but you didn't see me, I've no doubt.' Harry, thinking how stupid he had been to have seen any one else•replied— .l went late nud I danced a good deal— and'— 'And you didn't see me ; it's no use, Mr. Gordon, trying to compose a civil speech. I am nobody, you know; so wo will dale our acquaintance from this present wonderous ad venture—a pilgrimago'in search of Mr. John Smith and a paletot.' 'And a bey,' put in the father. And so they journeyed on through the quiet, silent streets—all talking and laughing as merrily as though they had been old friends+. for Harry's temper was bright and joyous, arid Miss Mansfield's seemed to be even and cheer, ful as his own. Not one word of discontent or reproach to her father - her spirit appearOd unwearied, whatever her.frame might be ; and though she might be nc body at a New York ball, oho certainly. was ,calculated to be a personage bf the greatest inipertance, with all who knew her and came within the influence of her bright intellect,' tor iefined manner, her sweet temper and affectionate dispositicin —not forgetting the radiant deep blue eyea., and the sunny hair. . 'Here's Mr. Smith's,' said the coachman, last. 'Let me go ant,' said Harry, leaping t the ground ; •I'll makar 'em hear, I'll wm rant.' He rang, and rang; and then, when h imagined his tocsin had sounded the,, alarm and aroused the drowsy sleepers,' Barry' tapr ed ut the bilsement window. , What do you want ?' said a gruff voice half opening the window, and admitting t view a sulky, fat, black face. 'What do yo want, sir ?' 'Mr. Smith,' boldly replied Harry. • 'Which Mr. Smith ?' 'Mr. John Smith,' ventured Harry. 'That aint hero,' said the black head, with drawing itself. 'James Smith !' shouted Mr. Mansfield from the carriage. Jeremiah !' suggested the silver:) , voice with a laugh. , Josiah !' again said Harry, bnt the blac head exclaimed, in a state of extreme irrita tion— `That aint it ! Get along with you all— you're a•making fun on me and closing tiv window with a bang, Harry and the coachmai remained looking in blank consternation, film one to the other. 'I aint a•going any further,' said the coach man ; 'ray nags is tired and so be I, and !sin n-going any further.' 'Yes, up to my house, wont you ?' said Mr Mansfield. •No I wont—that's West Twenty-Third street—miles and miles off.' 'But you'll go to mine, that's close by,' sait: Harry, insinuating a corpulent silver piece into the coachman's hands, as he got into th( can Inge There is no help for it my dear sir, it it three o'clock, you cannot keep Miss Mansfield any longer in this cool air, after dancing all night.' ''fired. Susy, are you darling ?' said. Mr. Mansfield, turning toward hie daughter, 'l'm surd I am.' 'Then,' said Susy, gracefully addressing Harry, 'let us really consider this night as one taken entirely out of our common every-day life ; let us suppose we are some centuries older ; let us suppose these tall houses forest trees, myself a benighted damsel, with an ex iled father, (you, dear papa,) and imagine trati we encounter a galliant knight-errant— yourself,- Mr. Gordon—and so accept the hos pitality of your castle. What part we are to assign to Mrs Gordon, is the only thing that puzzles me.' 'Oh, she will play the good fairy and set at right—she never does anything but good things,''said Harry. And now they arrived :. and Harry, opening his door with the tiny passkey his mottler had had made to 6t his waistcoat pocket, (he never forgot or changed his waistcoat, as he did his overcoats,) introduced, with all possi ble deference, his new-found friends into the breakfast-room. Leaving them there, he proceeded to his mother's room. In five minutes explained all, in another five, Mrs. Gordon was down stairs, and in ten minute's more, Mr. -Mans field and Susy were each in a comfortable bed-room ; where, going to sleep on their CONTINUED ON SEVENTH I'AGE Fljifubefpfiin. H . O.3.REOP I AT , HIC N N . .E . DICAL COL ft:aid in Filbert St. above E.F. yeah,. Philadelphia. The Lectenes of the Regular Course will cunimmiee on the second Monday of October, and continue until the tirst of March ensuing. Amount of Fees for a full Course of Lectures [in varinbly cash.) $lOO 00 Studeat who have attended two fdll courses Sn other ih.dlcal Colleges, • $0 00 Graduates of other Medical Colleges, 30 00 Matriculation Fee, paid only onco, 5 00 Practical Anatomy, 10 00 Graduation Few, 30 00 FACULTY. WALSER Witmodeatv, M. D., Emeritus Professor of Clin ical Medicine. J P. D se, M. D., Professor of Materia Medics and Therapeutics. ALVAN E. SMALL, M. D., Professorof Homeopathic Insti tutes, Pathology, and the Practice of Medicine ISAAC M. WARD, M. D.' Professor of Obstetrics, Diseases of Women and Children, and Medical Jurispru dence. MArtoew SEMPLE, M. D., Professor of Chemistry and . Toxicology. JACOB Ilnoux.r, M. D., Professor of Surgery. WILUAM A. GlentaNnt, M. D.. Professor of Anatomy. WILLIAM A. itXxo, M. D., Professor of Physiology. Asa S. COUCH, M. D., Demonstrator of Anatomy. WILLIAM A. GARDINER, M. D., Dean. augl-'55. No. 120 North Tenth St. Phila. TRUSSES! TRUSSES! C. IL NEEDLES, TIVESS AND BRACE ESTABLISIMENT, 8. W. Con or Twelfth. and Run Streete, Philad'a. Importer of tine Trench Trusses combining extreme lightness, ease and durability with correct' construe tion. Hernial or ruptured patients can be suited by remit- ting amounts:—Sending number of Inches round the hips, and stating side affected. Cost of Single Truss, $2, $3, $4, $5. Toonble—ss Vit $8 and $lO. Instructions as to wear, and how to effect a Mare, when possible, sent with the Truss. Also for sale, In great variety DR. BANNING'S IMPROVED PATENT norm rinAcE. For the cure of Prolamine Uteri; Spinal Props and SuP ports, Patent Shoulder Braces, Chest Expanders and Erector Braces, adapted to all with Stoop Shoulders and and Weak Lungs; English Elastic Abdominal Bolts, Bwitvonsorles, Syringes—male and female. 88-Ladies! Rooms, with Lady attendants. EMOVED.-E. N,EWLAND & CO'S wholesale and retail LOOKING GLASS AND no, RE FRAME' MANUFACTORY, No. 120 ARCH street, opposite the Theater, Philadelphia. E. N. $ Co. received the only Price Medal, awarded at the Crystal Palace exhibition, N. Y., 1858, in the United States, tbr Gilt, Decorated, Mantel'and I'ler Glum. Ea
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