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A. .11tki REIEEME, PropriotOr... -
WIL I LIAM M. PORTER, Editor.
V OL. LX.
•
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JOB—PRIENTIRG.
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Three good Presses. and a general variety of Material
Suited for plain and Fancy work of every kind, enables
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From the Homo .3 du runt
• •
THE SONGS OP HOME.
StlNc . -1 BY MADAKE ANNA Bll4llol'
:WORDS Or (IRO. P. MOIIiTS—.MORIC nx J. a MifihEll
Oh, sing ones more those dear, fnmllinr lays,
•
• Whose tu'nuful measure every bosom thrills I
They-take my heart buck to the.happy.4sys
When first I icing them on My native hills!'
With the fresh feelings of the olden times,
1 hoar them now uponla foreign shore--
The simplemlusie and thuartless rhymes!
Oh, slog those dear, familiar lays puce morel
Those cheerful lays of other days
• Ohollug those cheerful lays once more I
Oh, sing once mdro those .14-provoking strains,
Which, half forgottau, 1n my memory dwell!
They send tho 111h-bloodbtilialing through my veins
And circle round mot Ike sultry spoil.. --
Our tuttiveqtelndles, a htlll import
Moro deep than notes th 9 feothor'd warblers pour!
Fond webs of song-birth-worun with the heart/
Then sing those dear fituillAr lays once. moral
Those cheerful lays of other days-..
Oh slog those cheerful lays ouco morel ' k-
PowytEROTIABB:EY:
BY THE AUTIIOII OF "TIIE lIEIA, TO ASIILEY.'
CHAPTER' II
A lovely spring day. The hedges 'wore
clothed in their luiuriant green, the sky was
darkly blue.with an earnest of returning sum
mer, and the grass, growing long,. was-inter
tiiixed with cowslips and blue-bolls, and the
long, deep-pink flowers That' the' childnen call
cooko'ss. Alice ‘Vylde sat on a low stilenear
her home, looking at ..the wild'flowcrs, and
thinking, pensively of the happy — years of her
childhood, when her greatest delight had been
to go into the fields and gather such,'delights
that never would return.
' She was deeply' unhappy. Loving Rupert
Pommeroy with all the intensity of an impas
sioned and not well-disciplined heart, this
absence from him had seemed like a separa
tion Of years. About six weeks subsequent
to Mi.. Pomtneroy's.death, Rupert left the ab
bey. A very slender provision indeed. was
bequeathed to him, only a few thousands, but
an appointment had long been promised hint
under government. Guy Mid geficionsly inti
mated that he was welcome to make the abbey
his home until it was given, bnt Rupert plead
ed business, and left.. . Guy suspected his trio
fives : that be had some debts, and that at
present it was convenient his place of resi•
dence phould not be so decidedly known.—
Rupert's secret plea to Alice was, that unless
he went to London to look after the promised
appointment, it might never come, and in se
cret they took their leave. Hut that:was last
- teptember; and now it was pril, nearly May,
and be had never mime baolc again.
There had been another desertion from Ab
beyland, and the deserter was SYbilla Gaunt.
She also did not come Week; and she had been
gone nearly as long as Rupert. It was known
that the gamekeeper received letters from her, -
and he seemed tolerably easy in mind; no one
dared to speak tb him of his loss, for. he could
put down impertinence, whether front richer
- poor, with us high a hand as the old lard him•
self had done in his haughtiest days.' Captain
Pommeroy had come down a his, father's
death, and had gone again when the funeral
was ever; and Leolin was abroad still. Miss
Pommeroy lived at the abbey With Guy ; and
Alice Wyldo is sitting on the low field
stile there, looking at the flowers with oyes
that see them not. •
' She steps off the stile and leans against it,
for she hears footsteps approaching; and,
though the hedge hides the- intruder, oho
knows them to bo the lord of Pommeroy's.
- "Good morning, Alice."
-"Good morning," - - she returned, preparing
to move'away. - •
"Stay," said Guy, putting his arm before
4 her ;
."I cannot go on like this i I cannot be
'shunned forever, as you are shunning nib. If
• I come- uOvith you Out of doors, you walk
away ; if I call at the White House, you will
not - remain in the imam. 'I have been ihe - re
now; talking In your mother, and she, and I,
say thatxnatters should bo brought to an is
sue,"
"They were so brdught long ago;" replied
Alice; "only you will not take my answer.". •
"No. I will never take thiit•afisU'er," replied
Guy, with agitation. "Oh, Alice!" ti a r dded,
changing his tone to one of .deep tenderness,
"havo compassion on me! my love for you is
eating away my heart-strings."
"I cannot love you," elio replied, is a low
tone.
"So you have said: and so I .have asked
you, as I ask you now,' why ???
"It is not a thing that cab he called up at
will; or , bought and sold,.as you would barter
a jewel."
."Sufficient Of, it will-come will, if there
bone bar. I amcready to take you, and chance
it, Is there a bar?" he continued, in a mean
ng tone.
Alice Wykle liiiitated. The persecution—
for Bo she looked upon it—of Guy Pommeroy
had become intolerable to her; when she woke
in the morning, the •consoiousnesa that she
should meetlito in the day, and possibly be
forced to listen to-his love-making, would
rush over her mind with a feeling of despair;
and new (ame the thought., what if site told.,
Lim therewas a bar?. it might. put an cad to
,Lis hopes and his tormentings. So she spoke
out.;, but, in the confusion and doubt of her
ideati, she did not weight her words:
"If I were to.impart to you that there is a
tuir, would' it convince you that your wish is
useless?"
"A WO" he ejaoulatod. "Not that of love.
—of love for another?..; Alice, do not say hi"
"I must any it, If I ant to speak the truth,"
she whispered. ."I-do love another."'•• ' •
The dark expressichveamo goer Guy's face.
"Whom ?"' ' •
• "Rupert," . •
A minute elapsed before.he took in the
sense of the Words; Ana thou hi* passion
broke forth. • „ -s
~ , I tupert 1 the spoudthrifti Ito
.perti the disgrace to the name of Pommeroyi
whir is now .hiding himself, rest
.his reckless
deMs slfould ire visited upon him—whose mis
conduct, bore rota(' be a by-word
•
Mouths but that ho is d PommernY! who—
But I do' not believe yd"-tilltled ,who—
But in a
different tone, as lie ran over id his mind the
probabilities of larmvciwal., and could 'not re
member that Rupert And she. hailbeen &Oh-.
ciently intimate for love to have supervened ;
or that they had met, if love had come. "It
is false, Alice—you never saw much of Ru
pert., or he of you." •
Alice leaned against the stile—she did not .
reply, but the deep-flush of lov'e, rentemkered
'love, mantled in her cheek, and JO lips part
ed with a half smile.
"Do you,wish to drive me mad ?" stamped
don'tyou-say-tliat—youlutve
never met Lila—to love—that yeteare assert
ing what is, false, Only 'to deceivetne ?"
"I• have said what is true. , And, as to not
meeting, I should be Sorry to meet yeti in
I cret, as I hrt`ve met Rupert." •' • •
"You—n gentlewoman—.-and my promised
wife—can stand there
_and avow to me that.
yon-in-attoret-?"--.—:
"Lam not your_promised_ivifeAnd_thero,_
was no other way in which we could meet, for
you had gained the ear of my.mother. if we
did meet in secret, where was the harm.? do
you think Rupert would let, it chine near me?"
The lord of Pottuneroy yarned his face from
Alice, bending it on the grotutd—it was well,
perhaps, that she did not 'see it thou. His
love for her was indeed as a volcano_ raging
within him; ho could' not give her up—far
rather' would lie have given up life And all its
'.benefits. His she should, she must be. •••• •
"Alice, your lovo'is worse titan wasted if it
tbe given to Rupert Pommeroy." He had none
to waste, or to give to you."
Agaiti.the rich red flush of remembrance
dyed her - cheeks, and her lips were parted
'with the same sweet smile. Guy kept 'down
his temper.
"I say Rupert pommeroy had no love to
give to you.. lie deceived you—he was only ,
amusing himself."
"You shall not traduce him to me." she in
terrupted, with spirit: "I will not listen to
it. You know the motive which has - obliged •
me to confbl6_this to you—that you may fix.
your hopes elsewhere. Keep my secret, Guy,
and tie generons—l shall be your sister sonttr—
tinie." - - •
"Walk ivitlrme a little way,,Alice,"•he sod
lolly exclaimed. Andinechanically She obey
1, for his tone was imperative. Guy offered .
Yarn', hilt she bowed a refusal. • '
"You would take Rupert's," chafed lie. .
'lt. is not the custom for ; young ladies to
,do so. And I anis guile alive to the exactions .
of custom," she added, throwing back her
bead.
-. "Custom:" retorted Guy; 'ly between two
who are to form the closest tic on earth." "
"Did. you speak of yourself, or of Rupert?"
she returned, in a spirit of digriivaticTe. And
the lord of Poturner.py,affer teloo,F . that must
have betrayed the bitterness - of his heart,
welked.by,her side in silence. , • .
They emerged fiem.the fields; and a few
steps along, the road, 'towards the village,
brought, , them'in front of Gaunt, the game
keeper's. The, cottage appeared shut up—it -
affluently was so, now Sybilla had left. Guy
Ponnneroy stopped, and laid his forefinger on
Alice's arm, and caused her to turn'towards it.
"You see that place, Alice?" . - '
"Yes. What of it ?"
"Look at it, my dear. "Study it Well."
"It is Gaunt's cottage," she said, wonder
ingly.• "Why am,l to look at it?"
"It was weildWat you should see it. Because
there was where Itupert's love was given." '
Site was slow in understanding. No sus
picion of the sort had, ever dawned upon her.
And Guy's words only called up thoughts of
the gamekeeper and the cottage—not bf Sy
bill%
Guy turned back towards her Roane, Walk
ing by her side still. "There are certain to-
Oka, Alice, that we. may not discuss open;
custom, which you avow yourself
of, does not sanction it; the pt•opricties of life
would not sanction it ; nevertheless, some of
this reserve must be forgotten, when wireutn
ota'nces imperativelY.comPel it."
Alice IVylde turned her wondering 'eyes
upon him. ,
"You know that Sybilla Gaunt ,has left the
place," he resumed, in a low, dOep tone; "you
,know, at-least, it is probdble you do, why she
has been obliged to leave it. She is with Ru
pert." .
Silence ettsueil. Guy glhnced round. Al
ice was walking on, but he could not see' her
face, for it was held straight forwards, and
bonnets—dolisten, Mies fair!—were worn
large then.'
"Tito author or Gm evil that fell upon Sy
billa Gaunt was Rupert, Poriimeroy," Contin
ued Guy; "he who ought to have gutirded her
from it, had ho seen it approaching, no matter
from what, quarter, brought it upon her. lie
it a heartless Man.; and whilo ho must have
been pretending—no you now say -to live for
you, his love was given to Sybilla.llls real
love, Alice ; and if lie affirmed aught else to
you ; he was base and false."
As a blast. of lightning falls upon 'a tree,
and shatters it, to wore these words falling
upon Alice Wylile's brain. The scandationch,
ing• Sybilla Gaunt had been too' popular a
theta° in the village to escape her knowledge;
nay; her own mother had spoken,of it openly
to Miss Pommeroy.'
They came to the fields 'and Guy ]held the
gate open for her to puss Girough. Ile could
have gnashed his.teeth as ho thought how the
taut love Rupert—for her countenance was.
white with agonyolud het steps tottered.
"Is it true ?" she gasped.
"leis true as that you and I are here,
liv
ing."
Remembrance was busy within her—events
of the past were conjuring theMselves up,
trifles which had ex,e s efelt no reflection at -the
She remembered. once to have remark- ,
ed to Rupert on the beauty of Sybilla Gaunt,
• and Rupert had replied with some gay words
what. was Sybilla'sbeauty compared to hers?_
but his tone was it constrained one, and ho
abruptly changed the theme; Again, she re
membered in driving 'home with Ler mother
from a, dinner-party, one moonlight..night, at;
which they had met the lord and Guy, but not
Rupert, who-had sent an excuse, she saw ilur
pert standing just behind the 'corner of the
trees at Gaunt's cottage ; and there was.ano
iher'shadow near him, au undefined one—tbe
gamekeeper's, She had concluded, and she had
wondered why Rupert had gone down there
so late. flow was it that she had been.,sa,
blinded? Now she canto to think of it. who
but Rupert, with his fascinating manners and
his handsome form, with his careless princi
ples and ifidifferenco to consequences, was.
' likely to have turned the head of 'Sybilla.—
' The' cloilhoppers_of the village—Che would •
have apurned them. under foot. How could
she, Alice, have been so innodently unsus
pecting. The very feet of 'S'ybilla's quitting
the place'-with Rupert—but few days claps- -
ed-,tnight have told her. —'•'
' The revulsion of feeling was • terrible: all
her love.seented to be thrown back upon her
self: and she could have wept tears of ag'opy
at the thought df Iniw ho must have laughed
"til. her Credulity. At her, who had told-him
of her rejection•of Guy; of her refusal to be.'
come the lady of the abbey, for his sake! But
she could bp its lady still--
?Alice," began Guy, as they; cleared her
•
"Say ffothing tci me now;!' she fiercely, an
swered, "or I 'shall bo visiting the hate upon .
you that,l am beginning to feel for Rupert..
Mho has thus trifled -with mo—"
. .
. • "Ho interrupted' Guy. "If you think
I am capable. pf docoiviug you, ask the
And, In good truth, the village viquld pro:
•bably have said Cs Guy did, for • their suspl.;
cionm had pointed .at the ; gay and: attractive
Rupert.: :But they. held their. Peae '
e for *ad
he not a Pommel*? and aniongst tho simple
•
•
•
PaP2ll4,- PO2. T 3313, Pia& CIERCIL - 0 . -
0
,
around, it was pretty generally_held-that the
.Pornmeroys, like kings, could do no •wrong.
The lord of Pommoroy spoke his farewell
and departed ; Alice did•net answer him,
~but
went on in: Not that Sho' intended any 'par
ticular discourtesy to him, but her'mind
in a'cliaog of tumult. "'l'o come to me with
his false vows, from the company of that. girl!"
she muttered to herself, "'to win my love; to
play upon my credulity; to sport with My
heart's most snored feedings; ariLl thou , r ) ef urn
td whence -he came—to her I " - Olretseroy
how shall I support myself i" . .•
A little voioe came whispering Co her, is it
true ?--or isGavllecaivinz me? —She-thought
it Iva? true; 'the Lirobabilitios, looking back,
seemed to say that it was. But she went to
her mother, Who was deep in the pages of a
fashionable novel, and asked out a question
• boldly; 'little cared she, in her dwair, for
what Guy hail called'the proprieties of life.
"Mother, who -was it turned Sybilla Gaunt
tort hes wrong-path r _. .. • .
_No w_it_happened_ that_Mrs._Wylde ..was_par,
tiettlarly alive to the proprieties at this.:mo
meta; for the book before her, though-calling
itself a novel, was- of the-Inost orthodox
school ; . holy little village ciiildren,_young
clergymen in long (and very unbecoming)
black skirts. anti right honorable ladies, all of
whom talked in pious , senieuccs of batid-box
perfection and far fetched grammar, correct,
but not •easy, and who haul never heard of
wrong paths," much less come in oontact
with them; therefore Mrs. Wyldo bent a se
vere brow on Alice.
"Young lady! such topics are ignored, in
society. What are you thinking of?"
' want to know who it was that led
Gaunt to sin," proceeded Alice, plunging
deeper into the Mira. • ,
She stood before her mother with a p , ale
face and eye of dark misery, and it brought
down Mrs. Wyltle freer her
•
"Alice, what'in the world is the matter.?—.
What is-Sybilla Gaunt to you? It was not Guy
Ponitneroy, theiefore,--" -
"Was it. Rupert?
"Child. I say, these subjects are bettor lot
alone, What has come to you that yqu should
court .them? 'Ofeourso it was Ruperti °Very
-
body knows that!'
But Alice spoke again,..in the last faint of
fott to struggle with despair. "I heard you
say telt - Liss Pouituoroy, when yeti were telling
her abotit it, that it-was not known. who
"To be sure I did," interrupted Mrs. Wylde;
"She_put the question is me point bbtulc, and
I could not say to her, 'Your lirtither
Ru
pert."' •
'Why did not the village shun him? Ito
- Nfas popular, he Was courted up' to the .very
hour he left,."% • - -
"'rho village shun a Pommeroy!" derisive
ly retorted grs. lVylde. 't If it PotninerMy
Ahoose to tell them they must sell their souls
to him; they would only kneel to do it: nail',
Alice! hero conies Joan."
Joan Pommeroy Mitered. •She was left: for
a moment alone with Alice, and the latter apt
preached her-with an_eager whisper.
_ "Jdan, ;tell tae: was it known who—who
led Sybilla Goatit from the right
tltss Pomtnevoy. looked surprised. She
disdained to equivocate, and therefore did not
reply. "Are you ill, Alice?"
"I have heard that it was Rupert," resumed .
Alice, her eyes strained on Joan with a wild
oxpectaacy that it was. not. pleasant to look
upon. .
Joan Pommeroy bowed her head. " I be•
'lees it was. I aik, Allots, if you aro, ill ?"
"Oh, no," she answered, with a harsh laugh,
'1 ant very well."
Guy Pommeroy hail proceeded home. Ho
opeued, his desk, and wrote a sharp, brief
;note to his lawyers in town : -
"The judgment you hold against 'Rupert
Pommeroy.proceed upon at once, and look him
up. Listen to ho terms for a comproinise,
'unless you have my orders to do so; but still
retnember, that I do not appear as oonneeted
with this affair.
POMMEOOI7, OF PO:On:HOY ABBEY."
This was the signature of the lordS of Pom
meroy. And just two days after that was
penned, was 'Mr Ruposrt Pommoroy inside
the walls of .at debtor's .prison, and likely to
remain there,
CHAPTER 111.
Gayly went na the preparations for 'the
wedding, for Alice Wyldo had at length con
sented to be Guy Poinmeroy's.wile. ThcOril
lagere said how happy she would be with the
lord; the gentry how lucky she was to have
obtained him, a prize for which (though no
body would acknowledge it) many had striven;
and the reader, who is in - the secreli, Will say
what misery she was carving out for herself.
Misery indeed : but to be revenged on Rupert
Pounnerey she would have grasped a far less
desirable position than that of being the ab -
hey's mistress. • The 'only; revenge she could.
take upon him was that of rushing in;tioi
haste to be somebody's wife—at least, it ap
peered .the only one likely to tell upon the,
false ltupert.
The day previous to the nuptials arrived,
and Alice sat in her room, her heart braving
out its anguish. Her maid was kneeling bo
fore a half packed trunk.
"Aro these flowers to go in, Miss ?" •
"Flowers," was the abstracted ansiter—
"Whatflowers.?"
"These, miss, thalovero betweed the paper
in the little drawer. Here'S a rose, and a—
what ie,it?—a white geranium I think, miss,
but they are dried up beyond knowing." •
Alice turned her 'head to see the- flowers
she had overlooked theta in coating away the
rest—and the tido of- memory came rushing
over her. They were the last ho had ever
given her, and. too well she remembered how.
they were given ; his words and his looks of
love. , She buried her face in her hands, and
gave vent to a groan of pain, not to' be sup •
pressed,
The maid heard footsteps outside, and then,
stretched up her head. "Here's the lord of
.Pommeroy."
Alice know she must go to him.' And why
should she not—was ho not. lobe Lter husband
ore many hours hod passed? But the current
of her thouglin had been turned to the events
which she. had latterly striven' to bury, and
an impulse arose—long afterwards she used
to wonder whylt should have arisen—to speak
• ,of them to Guy.
She, wont down to . him—she stopped his
words of greeting, and put away, his hand.—
"Gay, 'did you deceive me when you told me
that—that of Rupert?"
The lord of Pommeroy turned his oyes up
on her. "Why de you ask,that now?"
"Were 1 to find, later, that you had deceiv
ed me, it would bo bad for us Istith ; for you'
and for nse," she'dreamily said.
"The lords of Pommeroy disdain deceit,"
was the reply. "The fact of Ruperes remain
ing away , so long might convince you that he
is with her, without any other proof," .
"True, true," she murmured, "forgivdmo,
Guy." •' ,- •
• `Guy •Tommerny bent. towards. her, and
would ,have sealed his forgireness, but was
met by a gesture of aversion. "Ihin't, pleaSo,.f.
she faintly sett as she drciw.away. A nasty
contracted . Guy's fade. Whoa.. these'
little episodes peeped out,showing !low utterly
she disliked him, he felt ht war.with hor, with
Rupert, with the world,' and with Heaven, '
But the morrow cams, like other,days come,
in their„turn;and - the long train of•bridal
tsuoalvevept into the chapel, the bride' the
loveliest of them all. And, that smite evening
Alice - PouqeroY entered upon her'relgn•at
the abbey, laving protilised to bo:to its lord
a loving and faithful wife,
~, CHAPTER IV.
. ,
The month by the caleutler wai Jane;• look
pg at the weather, it might have been pro-
CARLISLE, PA., WEDNIfDAY; , FEB RITARY 1, 1860.
Tar. vnuDionilk":
nounTled_,November ; but: ra y.,tneed.has
Juno turned out. such a . 4'as Mutt. . ' But,; if
the was•bad, the habitants, of ,the'.
small village of Abbeilaw. .were *usually
ty i
dative; windows and'easewpwita seamed aliim,
with heads and groups gatliffed.undersholter
in doorways, in .. thashopiltlitilid the black-
smith's forgo, watching ,t ,m inn
of expectation, far' the lord: tkatemajmy. was
to ,pass with his bride.' '? 4 i..''' ' ' •
Twice already had thotcheen ;gratified—
once when the. string of qatTlitgaS Containing
the bride 'and her friendar,htid gone-Torth• to
the chapel in FommistMy Abhtii, and'again at
the coricVsion - of;'Ore - aaretlOdy;-- - Tead - they
went-Amok again, the brie then sitting by
her lord 'it his now and - lihisdaante chariot,
eitiblazoned with the old arms and 7 quarter
logs of the; Pommeroys, =lt. drawn by four
grays, splendidly caaris64o.' 1 1 . A Igdodiy.,
sight, indeed ; but *ha p t a 'ell f ,;•!.' 1
I Fair and calm and 19'vely - Jtaed`thoAventher
- been:and . .when - Abbayhtndflrent , ttrrost-the
previous ...eveningit_healapneeed -as:settled
as fair. In the morning when they rose, the
sky was of a dark load anleid., :gloomy, and
1 threatening clouds over-spree:Atha earth like
a pall, and a sigh:gig wind4wept- along in
mournful wails; now dreopidg.to's low dirge,
Inow meeting, as it seemed, frdin - all'quarters,
add battling in fury. No rah:Obit : as yet. no'
lightning came to terrify the UMW, no thun
der to appal.; but if ever the teloments were
gathering for sure warfare, ; they. word that
morning. Ana in. this threats, ng Weather
the bride and her train went forth: . .
A bridle bright and boautifiii.waSehe t'and
sp 'she looked as she stood befaiii the priest in.
Tier chaplet of white roses maCorange-blos-
Borns, the veil thrown back fret *grace, her
eyes sparklidg and her ohealcs flushed 'to
brilliancy. All signs othappiness,'.'quoth the
crowd 'around, arrayed in titer feathers anti
'their laces; they little Ifitspeoted.-thal, it was
butthe flush of asciteinent, ofdalsory, if you
will, or that she hated the lortLof Pomineroy,
while she passionately, toyed another. * •
'Tho 'weather changed for tide: worse whilo
they were in'the chapel; it ideroased
,be a
peeper darkness, a darkness :stroll) , etperlen
cal Ilie - ola Gothic - chapol, with its narrow
easements; in keeping with••the Gothic abbey,
becatee''.se obscure ' thst• one - • — e - obintaitance
could not.he distinguished from anoidier, sod
wilten the bride was required; to write her
name in the book,, alto -objected; .saying shut
could - itht
,see: Ono of, the tapers used id
the ceremony was brought near, and by its
light she wrote whit was required of her.
In this 'gloom ; but still in no 'rain, the pro
cession took its way back to the White Ilduse,,
010'1.0941e:ice of Mrs. Wylde, where the bridal
ehtertaintneut wits hold. • . .- • _
Eveditighad come, and i tha jarring storm:m
wirid, rain, lightning, thiinder; . and in the'
midst of it - the lord of Pommeroy brought '
i forth his bride to. conduct 'her to her new n- I
bode; Tho Pottuneroys coodescendail
. not to
the wedding tour, a fashion introduced of late
years; the former lords had 'conducted their I
brides straight from , their maiden to their I
wedded houses, and the modern. lords die-,
dained to abjure the custold. l'. '
. .. Why do they tarry?" uttered ono good
wife to a knot of neighbors, who had.gathered
inside the dwelling of the former.?, "Half past
coven o' the clock, and they *emit° hive some
forfri on the stroke of the hour.'!!(
~ Why they terry Ali. Tau . irPotlior,. to bo
sure." . . • -
then they may put oft'Alieir bridal
garnients, and Madam Wylde may just have
'em for the night, instead of the abbey. There's
no chance of the storm slackening; the light
ning may, but the rain and the wind won't ;
and that -the lord dl' Pornmeroy may see for
hirnSelf."
"At three o'oloolt the banquet Was ; they
have had time to eat it, and another
why don't they come ?"
" Don't he impatient, you women," exclaiM
ed a man - who had drawn to the open door.
"They'll come, all in time; trust the lord of
Potnmeroy for that."
" Aunt, ' soretudied out a girl of nineteen.
"I wouldn't be married on such a day as this,
if I 'tad to stay singlo'airmy life. It. bodes
ill luck" • -
" hush-sh-sh!" canto the prolonged caution
front several lips. It was a bald tongue in
Abbeylantl Hint dared hint at ill luck for a
Pommoroy.
Thbre's nobody hero but ourselves,".
turned the girl, in a subdued tone. ,"And I
didn't send the storm. It's come, and theio
can't he no harm in saying that it is."
"Tile same thing have boon in my mind all
day," whispered' woman. - " Whod I got up
this morning, and thinks where's the sun, and
looks out and see, the 'dead ghostly„Wok of
things yes, you nifty stare, MIL ti ay had a
blue ghostly look,-like they had that day when
the heavens were darkened'fot the—what was
it called?--the 'cliptic-or the sun, and the
cooks set on to crow at midolgy. It looked
like that this morning; only ghastlier, and so
it has looked all day since._ Says I-to myself
—if over there's 11l luck meaut:Ao be fore
shadowed this day for the lord and• the new
lady of pommeroy."•
"And, I just ask yo." returned the girl,
"did ye eyor seouoli lightning, or hear such
thunder? Aurft knows it, though she snubs
me lltirit..to that peal!" .
'lt's strange the lord didn't have his broth
er, Mr. Rupert, to the wedding; but perhaps,''
added the speaker, more slowly, Mr. Rupert
don't care for yrodditigs.'
'He'd care fey the feasting that is to come
after it, though,' cried another woman;. there's
to lie Open house'at the abbey, fur nine days
to come, and the !Ord and the 'lady are to top
the feasting tables' ' •
'I wish Mr-Rupert:bad been the ex
' claimed the girl, enthusiastically; he's a rare
-brave man to 'speak to, with merry eye;
but the lord's as cold as a stone,'
An unlucky remark-The girl got. nearly
buffeted. The gay Rupert was. - not held in
the favor that the lord was, for his faults
were certainly,notAose of being cold or sto:
ny ; and so the village had found; and though
it did not praise hitn,lt would net blatt , e.
Harsh tongues were let loose- upon the girl.
•Thee'd bettor not get within ken o' Mr.
R4ert's merry eye, 1 can tell thee that, girl,
or may be thee'dst find thy .own the sadder
for it.
The girl looked as though she would like
to rebel. 'I don't care,' cried she, 'you are
all i ready to lie dowil and - let the lord step
over you as he walks, but he's not, half the
pleasant lord that his father wall,. nor that
Mr. .Rupert Rupert would have made i.I said no
more than that, and whore's
,the ill of it?
T'other day lie was riding ant of the bean
field, none of the grooms after 'him, and I
pulled the gate back for him and held it wide.
He rode through, as stitras a log - of ,wood,
never saying so much as thank youNr turn•
ing Lis eyecto see who was - holding it.' •
'He is the lord of Pot n umerov, and we are
his vassals,' cried thejiunL ./They. say Mi ss
Pommeroy leaves the abbey when the- nine
Jaya' feasting's over, she has.got her fortune,
and can.maka her home where. she likes.
Holy ,Yirgin I did you see that Dash?'
'Here's something else to seep cried the
wan, putting his head round the doorpost
again i 'they be coming Wait.''
• In spite of the wind' and 'pelting rain, in
spite of the forked dangerous', lightning,aktd
the resoandinglltunder, opt „pressed the wo
then—out,they pressed from , all,parts and
all quarters r until the road seemed , lined,'as
by niagio--to see • those.'whom :theyhad even .
hundred ;of times before.'
Rut !hit iu their .bridal 'attire and that
'they were now. It had not been''put off.-
-The wreath of roses and - erange•blosticinis
was yoj on the brides-head, : and the'llowing
'veil still fell behind her„ hitt her
,c'heeks'
was gone.. The lord of Pommeroy
sat by her in his towering height, she looked
ass - a little girl beside hina, and his ever pale
complexion was not a whit less ghastly than
usual, and his hair.lip was only too conspicu
ous. But for that lip and unnaturally white
skin he would have been a handsome man— .
handsorec,•in - a degree, he was, now, for his
features wore otherwise well formed, and his
h'eight and figure were of noble presence.
' 'She's pale nor,' cried one of the^womah;
,ishejlon't like the storm'
!I shouldn't,' pftt Jeffs it --
making his horses' go' slow o' purpose for
,us?'
•Pshu, child I, rebuked a man, 'don't you
see that hg's a keeping his reins tight. over
'em, a pulling ,'em in? If he let 'cm get their
heads, they'd be off. Look at their nostrils
a panting( Them dumb, creatures be more
frlglited - ata - storni liltesthiirthaititiV - 14man
1-people—
Jeffs„the coachman, sat on his box, 'seem- .
.ing, indeed; to have. 48 much as he...could
'manage in tliO foam grey horses. The lords*,
of PatnmOroy•always :drove: four' in, hand ;
they held' postillions in Shprome' contempt ;
Jeffs did the same. 'The, carriage had been
waiting at seven, and the lord and his bride
did' not come foith . till half-past. In that'
space of time they 'had become thoroughly
frightetied, told almost unmanageable,, and
Jeffs,- keeping his own piece on the hammer
cloth; was redueed to . the humiliation (very
great to him) of Ordering the two footmen to,
hold the heads of the leaders. And, from
the moment they started, now five minutes
:pinto, Jeffs bad had Midland. full. .. •
Tray saint of the Pommeroya
to,. kee back. that: lightning, or'l shan't
master 'Mal l' ejaculated .he Co himself. •I
never knew 'urn like this afore;,' their,coats
be a running down wet with the terror:'
Re payou saint was deaf to poor Jeffs:
ti 4 very next moment a flash came,
worse than any preceeding.it, folloWed by an
awful -crash of thunder; end the horses reared,
plunged, and started away like mad. - 'Holy
Mary, help us uttered Jeffs; 'a pretty wed
cling-day this is !'-
Th'e young bride uttered a faint scream,
starred partially up, and seized the handle
of the carriage,doorto- open it. The lord
threw his area rpund her waist and drew her
down' again. 'Alice, what are you thinking
of? -It would be certain death.'
She Corned her white • and terror-stricken
face - upon. him. . 'Bettor walk 'home to the
abbey, throuroli the storm and the rain, than
•be at the mercy of those .wild horses. .
'They are frightened, like you, my-clearest,
Jeffs can manage them. See, they are slack,
erring their speed.'
lee had better walk—if wa could but get
out I Lot us walk!'
lie shook his head—to, attempt gettin,q•
out womTd, as he said, be tempting death.
'Guy, what a dayT she exclaimed, burst
ing into tears of present terror, while a vague
undeaned, feeling of dread was cast Walla
future. - I wish we had, put it off until to
morrow.'
` Guy, Pommeroy did not answer,. He hasti•
ly turned her face towards him, so,that she
could not see out, and held her there caress
ingly; caressingly, .in good truth, for he idol.
iced tier; but to caress was not his chief
motive just then. The horses were plunging
again ; now gallopingnow rearing, and
stamping in fury, and now galloping again;
on they went. The lord eat upright and
caltn;and she clung to him ;' the footmen
behind, got carefully down ;
. and holding on,'
managed to reach the earth ; olte fell, and
AIM other staggered on losing, hold, but they
were in safety, and they ran after the car
riage; the spectators, who had been watch
ing it pass, also ran, many of them ; Jeffs
had lost all command, and the horses were
as furies. •
. The lord of.Pommeroy put- his head out,
at the front 'ivindew, an'd called aloud : 'Jeffs
teke care—tighten the left rein, or they'll
pass-the turning.' And down ho sat again,
and shielded his bride's face as before. 'Cour
' age, my love,' he whispered; 'another
uto, and we shall be. in the shelter drive,
close to the abbey:
Jeffs was skilful and expeiiencecl, and Jeffs
'took care,' as his lord enjoined, but skill
and care are sometimes powerless to arrest
the career of atiinliths. frightened to madness.
The rein was tighteued in vhin ; the horses
would not turn on their proper path, but
dashed blindly forward ; and cliose following
behind uttered a shrill shout of despair as,
the horses passed it, they were plunging on
a dangerous , road—it road which on one side
bad no protection. The lorrl saw his danger
but-he thought far less of it than of keeping
its sight from her. She struggled her face
free in spite of him, and looked up.
'We are on the precipice!' she shrieked.
'Olt, Goy. we are on the precipice!'
child I' he uttered with strain-
Lod ; Jeffs can Iceepdhem s on the road,
•we are safer they will stop at the hill. Don't
scream so Alice, it may increase their terror.'
Her voice died away, and she remained
'quiet as a laiM, hiding-her face in ills breast
and clasping him with a tight nervous clasp
in that strong form, although she did not
love it, there 'seemed to be protection; hut
shook so that she caused him to shake, be
traying how expressive windier alarm. 'rho
storm raged in its fury, and the horses raged
in theirs ; now kicking, .now foaming, now
bolt upright. Jeffs was flung from the boi,
arid thO next moment, horses; carriage, and
inmates had rolled down the precipice on to
the grass.
The fall had not been great notmore than .
twelve or fifteen feet; bad thp horses gone
further, kt.wo ! ild have been much greater, for
the hill gradiially ascended:to a heightwhore ,
it overlooked the sed, The shouting runners
their shouts died away into horror-stricken
silence; Came up; they passed _the dead.body
of Jeffs—dead it looked—and gazed over'
the side. Carriage and horseslayin a heap
an appalling mass, the latter, phinging, and •
0110 shrieking. Did you everhear the shriek
of a wounded and frightened horse, reader?"
It is not pleasant to listen' to,
Down jumped the mon by the steps a few
yards further on. Gaunt, tho .gamekeeper,
had now joined' them, and he took out his
knife and cut the,traces. Two of the horses
would never rise again ; the other twodash
',oil away in their freedom; and then the spec
tators climbed up and looked in at the car
riage window, the carriage lying on its side.
'Get me out,' said the, lord of Pothmeroy.'
. He was not dead, • at any rate—ho was
bruised and shaken, rind there was an tgly
cut on his forehead; but his poor 'young
bride, apparently less hurt than he, lay sense
less. 'She has fainted from .terror,' said the
lord. They,got her out of the carriage, and
'ho gently . picked her up, in his arms, her
light weight being but as •a feather in his
great strength. So would he hav&borne ber
to the.abbey.
•- 'The lord bad better not,' interposed Gaunt
sensibly. 'Should ,any bones be - broken, it'
might do worse injury. • Let a mattress, be
brought. , , •
Guy Ponimeroy sat down on the grass,
hd held her upon him until it Came. Ohq
as brought water mid' spkinkled hover het'
face, another had taken Wilier gloves.. Guy
took:the left. one in his. _ •
'You don't rub hard enough, air,' said
L 1
Mil
Gaunt, 'to do good: .Thave seen plenty o:
women in a faint, and they feel nothing, on.
less it is .done hard.: '
Tehall hurt her hand;withitese rings on
it.
'Take .them off, sir.'
" It was not bad advice—she was wearing
three or four, and the lord took theykoff,and
dropped them into his waiscoat pocket,.
But the robbing and the water did not re
store her to consciousness. ThelrOtess
was brought'and she was borne to the a eyp•
and still she did not revive. The surkeon
thrplace differed it asthey did, and he
and Gay'romained alone with 'her. She was
placed upon a table. and the surgeon bent
over, touching her in various parts, tbuching
her head and face, and , bending down his
ear to her mouth and-heart.
'She is not dead, Is 'she?'gasped Guy,
striving to still his pulses to' calmness whila
he - aslMd it. " '
-- `No; - she - is - not des.d,'. was the reply:Bat --
I fear concussion of. the brain.' ,
And, throughout the whole of the evening
and night, she neyer revived to conscious•
mess. The doctor and attendants :remained
round her bed, and Guy paced the rooms of
the abbey, one room after another, now steal
ing in to the chamber and gazing on .her,
and now departing do his restless walk again.
And that was the endin g of the lord of.
Pommeroy's wedding•day.
, .•
ENGLISH ARISTOCRATIC LADIES.
The following exira,ot from a' recent letter .
of an hlnglish traveller, whp haf.had the beet
I.oppottanitiei observetion in the first circles
of the United Sates,t may. surprise some of
our idlories /ass, if any such there be among •
our readere.i•
It were well if noble emulation;dould ho
excited among our woman to imitate what f is
worthy of imitation in the privileged classes
abroad. They would then flood their country..
with light and happiness, instead. of d6grad
ing it with poor copies from' English and
French novels, and reproducing from parvenus
_ • of Paris_society foreign idlesse and its cancan- '
WASHINGTON, January 21, 1860. Ratte r s—gossip, flirtation and extravagance. , -
~ 1 can assure you that, having lived all my
MAU [lmmo —The principal party of the life about in the different castles and ,manor
seasen,7tlnis far, was ;-.,..
given on Wednesday houses of Great 'Britain, and been acoustomed
last, at Chevalier Halsornan's, the Austrian to the Industrious habits of Dtlehesses and
Minister. The Chevalier is a baoholor oft - Countesses,. I was utterly astonished at the -
old school, halo, hearty, active, andrexceed7 idleness of-American fine ladies! 'No, English
ingly fond of ladies' society.' This )fall is a woman orknk (with the exception of a few
new feature_in . Washington circles, and re- parvenus,) from the Queen downviarde;would
versos the usual method of turning night. into remain for one half hour unemployed, 'or sit
day. The company, asserabled at 8, and the ii; a rooking-ohair, unless Seriously ill. They
greater part retired beford 0 o'clock.. The almuSt all' (with hardly an exception,),copy.
blinds wore all • closed, and the parlors bra': the letters of business; of their husbands, fa
liantly illuminated. By five o'clock, it is esti- titers, or ,brothers ; attend minutely
to,
the
mated that fi ve hundred persons wore present, wants of the poor around them, and even take
and such a jam has been exceeded here only pare in their amusements, and sympathize
by an inauguration and the Napier ball. We with their sOrrows; visit and superintend the
managed, after great exertions and numerous school ; work in - their own gardens, see to
apologi , to secure a corner position, where
we Could burro the packed. mass of fashion
ably un c mfortable human beings. ' The dig-
.1,,,1_ ;
i-their household concerns; think about their
; vi s
y i t a o r t a . 0 . lack o
sti o o v o e i r the e o w s 6 e b k a ly t accounts,
e n s e n: f t
toonjunotion With the working•classes, to help
ultariee of the land manfully breasted the ; t h e f arm en d estat e ; manage penny-Clubs in
billows ; SOTO- mon and fair-women slowly
moved around, bowing and scraping, treading . them to keep themselvtu;• and with all
keep these
on corns, and seriously punching each other's
ribsysith their protruding elbows. Standin occupations, by deify „hence, they upg ' tli,oir acquaintance with the literature and
was disagreeable—sitting was out. of the ques.,... pe n t i ee of
thetday, day , and cultivate - the accom
hon. 'We stood on ono foot—then on the . plishments of musicand drawing, - and Often
other- , -then on both, until -the. hungry : mass . • acquire, beside,
,some knowledge of acientifio
swayed toward the supper-room. After 'this, I• pursuits. The late Marehioneswof Lansdowne
we found ourselves again wedged in the par- t 'was se well acquainted with the eottagers in
tor. Then the dancing began;, the toiling neighborhood, that she used to visit and
walkers (not dancers) took two stops forward , `herlo at the corpses of the dead, because she
and one and 'a half back; turned around, ;
e d
the her doing so soothed and comfort
bowed, simpered; and this answered for dame- ;ed the bereaved.' I have known her shut her- •
ing. About 8, the elderly folks wont home,, ; self up . with a mad woman in' her poor dwel
and Oa young ones wound up the ev ening I ling, who used to look the door, find could not
with. the " Gorman.” Every one vote d the
.: be induced to admit any, ono else Lady
party to be a magnificent affair, and all, of Lansdowne's' only daughter used a hundred
course, enjoyed themselves splendidly. Bah! , guineas (given her by her father-in•law, Lord •
this is happiness with a vengeance ! To be . sufrok, to buy a braoolet,) to build pigstes,
jammed into jelly for four hours, and got up : with his•pertnissioti, at her 'husband's hi t
tlot
next day:with an itching' head and wearied : country residence. She educates
.her own
body. Ido not Wendeethat people sigh for , children without assistance, teaching the boys
a "lodge in some vast wilderness." • ; Latin, and the girls all the usual branches of
• ;
Ono feature of this party deserves partial- : education.
_.
ler notice. The foreign ministers, attaches, I "The late Duchess of Bedford, I act:Admit:.
and their secretaries and fellow-citizens turn- I ally discovered, whet:item a visit to Woodburn,
ed out en masse. French, Sp Lnish, Dutch, • had, for thirty years of . - her married life, risen
and Danish mingled in ono musical (!) eon- . at 6 o'clock, summer and winter, lit her own
glomoration. It is a passport to the ladies' I fire, made some tea for the Dtike and herself,
hearts to be 'a foreigner.' There must be an I and than, as ho wrote his own letters of busi
irresistible charm in the delicately combed or 1 ness, she copied them, and they came down
twisted moustache; and•who, but a foreigner, • to a large party of guests at 10 o'clock, to dis
eon give just the right finish to this all-impor- ; pens() breakfast, without saying ono word, of
tont auxiliary ! They excel, for they give ' their matutinary avocations ; so that you
their whole mind to it. And then, too, the might have been a visitor in the house with
volumes of flattery glide 'so smoothly off their mit finding out that the Duke and Duchess
voluble tongues': flow easily the
,heads of had transacted the necessary business of ,the.:
our giddy, silly, weak-minded girls are turn- day—before, perhaps, you had risentr- .
'... ,
ed ! Poor creatures, they are subjects for "I rather mention those that have gone to
sympathy. their reward, than write of women still in our •
Many of the foreign representatives are midst; but you may believe me when I say
high-minded, noble mon; some are otherwise. that I am constantly among those who live
It is unfortunate that our ladies do not care such lives of energy and usofulness—but they
to make a proper distinction. Is Ito a for• so employ themselves without ostentation, or
eigner ? decides the question of propriety in an idea that they are doing more than their
making an acquaintance. simple duty."—YriA York Century,
By way of pastime, we read "Adam Bede." •
and found it really novel' and interesting. We
annex an extract which' deserves to be heral
ded in the newspapers. •
~
Mrs. Poyser is a sharp, talkative woman,
(What woman isn't talkative ?) anti as full of
quaint similes as Dow, Jr. Bartle Massey is
a genuine, crabbed, and unyielding old bach
elor. The diamorut-cut-diamond conversation
between them is the best thing of the kind we
have ever reed." We give it without •further
comment
TO DE CONTINUED
.CorreNpondonco of Cho !Wald
LETTER FROM WASHINGTON.•
'Cotne,..now,' said Mr. Poysor, ' you canna
draw back; you said once as women wouldna
ha' been a bad invention .if they'd all boon
like Dinah.' ,
'1 meant her voice, man—l meant her voice,
that was all,' said Bartle. I can bear to
hoar her speak without wanting to put. wool
in my ears. As for othei.things, I dai:o say
she's like the rest o' the women—thinks , : two
and two'll come to make five, if she lives and
I bothers enoughiabout it.' . •
. 'Ay, ay,' said -Mrs. Poyser, 'one 'tid think
an hear coins folks talk, as the men war cute
enough to count the corns in a bag of wheat
tiP only smolliug; at it. They cap see through
a bafn door, they can. Perhaps that's the,
reason they can See so little o' this side on't.'
MaAin Poysor shobk with delighted laugh
ter, and winked tit Adam, as much as to say
the schoolmaster was in for it now.
said-Barthi, sneeringly, • the women
are quick enough—they're, quick enough.—
They know the rights of a story before, they
hear it, and can tell a man what his thoughts
are before lie knows 'em himself.'
'Like enough,' said Mrs. Poysor; for the
mat ;tie mostly so slow, their thoughts over
run them, and they onlycatch 'em.by the tail.
I can count a stocking top while a ban's get- i•
ting his tongue ready ; and when liwouts wi'
his speech at last; there's little broth to be
made on't. It's your dead chicks takes the
longest hatohin'. Holiever, I'm not denying
the women aro foolish : God• Almighty made'
'em to match the men.'
. Miceli!' said Bartle ; ..aye, as vinegar
maichee one's teeth. If a Irian says a word,
his wife'll match it. with a contradiction;
if
he's a mind for hot Moat, his wife'll match it
with cold bacon; if holaughs; she'll match it
with whimpering. She's such a match as the
horse.tly is to the,herm4, she's got the right
venoin to sting him with—the right venom
to sting Mitt with.'
'Yes, said; Mrs. Poyser, 'I know what .the
mon like—a 'poor ,soft, as 'ud simper at 'em
like the picture of tho.sun, Whether they did
right or wrong, and say thank you fora kick,-
end pretend she didna".know which end 'she
stood'uppermost, till her husband told her.-
That's what a man wants in et. wife mostly; ho !
wants to make sure o' one fool as'll tell
he's wise. 'l3th there's'sone men can do wi'
out . that...ithey think no ,much themselves
a'rendy; 'and that's how It is . there'e old bach
i afore.'
'COMO, Craig,', said .111 r. Poyser, , ,looooely,')
'Von - Mutt get married pretty..quiek, else yon'll
bezet down for an'old bioholor; and you see
what thewomen'llthink of you.'
'Well,' said:Mr. Craig, willing to mmoiliate
Poyser, and 'setting a high•Valuo'on his
,• ma compliments, like a" cleverish woman
--a..140M4111 sporret=a Managing woman:'
$1 50 pet annum , In. advance
, / 1 52,00 Knot paid•in,advance
'You're out• there; Craig.' said Bartle, dry
ly 'you're' out there. :You judge - o',•yottr
garden'stuff on a better plan than, that ;.you
pick the things for what they can exiel, in—
, for what theyoatt excel in. You 'don't dalue
your peas for the roots, or' our. auras for
their flowers. Now teat's the way , you should
choose women; their;Oleverrieis 'll never come
to much—never code to much; but they Make
mix:talent siMpletons, rife, 'and strong flavor
ed.':
• 'What dog sap to that said, Mr. Poyeer,
throwing himself back and mOrrii,i , at
•
- •
'Say!' answered hirs.Xeysei, with•danger
ous fire kindling in hor eye :..d Iraq I say as
some folks' tongues'arallke the ()looks as•ktin
on slrikhe,,not to tell you The time o' the day,
I but becauee. there'll . summat, wrong thett ,
I Own inside.'
And heie we leaye them,. being fully'astis
fied that Mrs. Peysee
lifie; - iitid teat Bartle gassoy,haa.tycapasaad
vpott - tiaktish -grtkuad-~'-liiars
How to Pop the Question
`Gracious l' says twentyono past,
and its time to look arter :Nance.
Next day down I went. Nancy was alone,
and I axed her if the 'Squite . was in. Sh
said he wasn't..
Cause,' Said I, making believe I wante
to seq him, 'our colt has sprained his foot,
and I came to See . if tire 'Squire wouldn't
lend me his mare to go to town: •
She said sho guessed he would. 'l'd - hot •
ter sit down and wait till the 'Squire come in.
Down I sat i she looked sorter strange and
my heart felt queer round"the .
'Are you going, down to Betsey Martin's.
%MUM' T nAer a while.'snz she.
Sez 1, 'rellkon I would.
Sez allo; ' su ppose you'll take 'Eliza Dodge?'
S'ez I, tnought, and then again - I mought
°Wt.'
Sez llleard yon was a going to get
married.' • •
Sez I, !I .wouldn't wonder n bit.'
I looked at her and seed the tears coat
• :See I, 'may be she'll ax you to be brides
maid.
She riz up, she did, her face as 'red as a
boiled beet.
`Seth Stokes,' and she couldn't shy any more, she was so full.
. 11 Wouldn't you be bridesmaid, Nance ?' sez
'No,' sez she, and bust right out.
'Well, then, sez I, 'if you won't be the
bridesmaid, will you be the.bride ?'
She looked up to me. I swan to, man I
-never saw anything so awful puty. I took
right hold of her hand. • , ,
'Yes or no,' sez I, right off.'
'Yes,? sez she. . ' °
'That's the sort,' 1,-and give her a kiss
and a hug. We sooal hitched , traces to trot
in double harness or life, and I.neverhad
cause to repentsay bargain.
PHTEIt PE7OIC.•-• The increase in the num
ber of barefooted' Monks and Friars who
, may be , seen. in the religious quarter of Pails
I —that all around St. Sulpice and tho.Rge de
Vitugirard—has (tensed the greatest CUIIOI3i.
, ty- They may be seen at all hours of the
I day walking along in. tho quiet and almost.
deserted streets of that quarter, bareheaded _
and barefooted—their blue heels and chit
blaiey toes created the greatest commisera
tion among the ladies and chilaren as they
tread bravely,the frozen suow•covered pavp•
1 tpent. They have assembled here, in great. ,
( numbers to further the gigatitic, work" which
r has been commenced at Glient—the "Work
of St. Peter Penny." , - By St. Peter's' Penny
the most phipendous works have been under- •
taken andreprupleted, and the' "work" •of .to• i
• day is that , of liberating the Pope of all anti. ,-.
.sty concerninkthe increase of eipendifirre. ,
necessary to Meet his . present emergency. •
The hfonks, Pad Fritiit of the two great beg.;
girig orders, the Franciscans mid Capnehins,
have been convoked and are to be distribu
ted all over Europe in search of alms to as
sist iu this mighty work.—. London Sian ' .
4 v''
NO. 20.
iffn