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=
PAGE FROM AN OLDEN CHVINICLE
.(As etignlvod- by Fartai
=I
She rends—and while .the old man 'Helens,
The tear drop In - hie dill eye glistens; -
'Thu smile di3On hfe landed eneelt Stealing
I.Nbt, up enew tie fires of feeling.
'fir old. imAolit faithful toning
Xll hopes and fe a rs a young heart, swelling
Of (Tow nlentl faurelµ; hrOWS entwining,
And deeds, like golden throndlets shining.
Ilu lists no mon, the ple•saut
I,:iimuulits Tllk ;Mir stein neer lteelittu,
Ile Aces Till: TA EN, in Which he started;
And 11 rot
,oure more taut littairdepartuit,
The oliLman, as In file youth. Is roaming •
rog dawn to ivening's gloaming- 7
'Mid session ho loved and fondly cherished; •
o thoy,lll,onway,shlot Ileiw'rets, perished. •
Now faded forms nee near 111111 flitting,
• And household ones mound Wan sitting;
The joyki of hope, the hearthstone.teulllng,
Are with nlierlion's pert unnilolondlng.
Thu 011, man puns the picture glee lug—
.ll;d while hin'heart, u ith joy WIT 11,,‘
Turtle, to tl;o present, 'with its slnultng,,
Thu pnlnte4 vision's fading, tiding,
:Voices about Idm kind are calling—
Thu reader's words so gently tailing;
. 1111 grandchild on hie knee reclining,.
• And Fido'o low and wistful wkluing.
Ilia bugle on tho well la hanging,
Some years :tgono It reared Kg clanging,
And enblgn, uniform and feather,
Aro resting quietly tngetb,r. •
The sire loojis now, through tears all blinding,
Ills daughter's bleu Li now reminding
Of omiho loved—the daughter's mothot—
\'aiuAy ho tries his grlof to smother.
She was fair as May'a glad morning,
A cheerful spirit her adorning,
Bute lihii the lily near him growing,
To frail, too puro, for rude winds blowing.
The old MAWS step has lost Its lightness,
Ills voice and oyo their strength nod briAlttness.
Ills heart by tr&cjuenr son Ito.s shattered,
Ills hopes, like loaves in Autumn, I.:tiered.
And 'snowy locks his brow aro clouding,
And failing nature vigor shroudiiig;
All his surroundings give but sadness,
Pant echoes only bring blur gladness.
=3
So live that when the past: reviewing;
The thoughts, the hours, the done, the doing,
Npy ho as gems in clfcleta golden,
To gild And deal( thy record olden. ,
POMMEROY ABBEY.
BY THE Aunton. OF "TOE HEIR TO Asiicur."
[CONCLUDED.)
CHAICIEIt XEII,
I=
• Strange commotion was in the abbey of
Pommeroy. A young.child was dying. Chil
dren die every day,,are mourned and forgot
ten ; but the circumstances attepding this
child's anticipated death wore deemed to be
strange. It was the third infant of Leolin
and Lady Anna Pommeroy's who had thus
been prematurelyeaut off, and all unexpected
ly: Solite slight aliment, common to infancy,
had attacked it; it was thought to hesecov
ering, and now it was seized suddenq with
- -•---convulsions. Precisely had it been so • with
' the Iwo former, now mouldering away in the
Pommeroy vaults. Would this child follow
theM? .
But that very morning It had been better,
almost well;..and Leolin Poinmeroy had stood
' over its cradle, laughing and talking, as he
discussed with his wife some joyful news. It
had been the dream of his later life to•dispos-
Bess the younglerd of Pommeroy and to reign
in bin stead. There was but one way of hop
ing to accomplish it—the getting the Court of
, Rome to annul the marriage of the.young
lord's- pa:midi'. For this, had Leolin been
working for years, now hoping, for success,
now despairing. That morning he had re
ceived it letter from oho of the cardinals, giv
ing hint strong hopes, founded upon now
grounds. Lady Anna was then with her Child,
and Leolin went to tell her, motioning the
attendants away. -
'ALI:Ist, Anna,' ho exclaimed, shall neon
once more hail you as the lady of Pommeroy.''
'Have they dissolved the marriage. then?'
she returned, in a quiet voice, as if the news
were a matter of indifference to her.
'No: and they will not do it; the marriage
is to stand good, once and for all. But the
Vatican will refuse to recognize any as lord
of Potnineroy save Rupert—my brother Itu-'
pert, the wanderer; and it will recognize mo
-as lord, during Rupurt's absence. Rupert,
you know, can never return, so al-reign for
- • ife.' ."
• 'Leolin, darling, it is not just.; the young
lord is the heir, failing Rupert; let him reign:
How can we be happier . than we are?' added
. 'Lady Auna, looking pp with a bright smile: ,
. The baby is almost welt—what More need we
care for
Leolin Pommeroy bent over the cradle. The
•• baby smiled at him, and . closed 'its little fist
'
over the forefinger Leolin had placed-within
it. It -was a tine boy, about six months old.
. 'You young Turk! you would like to keepine
yoUr prisoner, would you.? lie will be quite
well in a day or two, Anna.' .•
'Oh, gap. Leolin,' she continued. in an
impnesioned whisper, 'I think if this child hind
followed the other two I should ahnost haCe
died.' •
. • Leolin brOlight his face up from the boy's,
• and bent it on taittwite's.• 'Forget Ills danger,
Anna love, he is well. again and therefore
... the mere retitson why ['should look after the
suceession—our ohild 111414 BM:mod die in it.'
Leidy Anna laughed: 'Thera: may bu?logic
In that hope, Leman, but there's certainly not
•' Your brother' Rupert is older than
- and, L'ehOuld fancy, not likely to be a
long liver: at Ilk death the young lord.mtist
he lord of r'ommeroy without disptite.'
'We don't know 041 said Lean, signifi
cantly. 'Let me once:rget into power ns the
reigning lord, and
„things may turn out.as I
will.'
. .
This was in the morning. •At seven that
evening; a terrified woman burst into the din
ing-romn,with the news that the baby was in
convulsions Lady. Anna, with a stifled-tory,
flew to ils chamber, followed by her husband.
The child's life was ebbing fast.
Lady Anna turned her white face dpthfher
husbnpl—it was full of deep meaning, of
dread, end she' spoke in a whisper. • There
is some strange fide upon us, Leolitt, mud you.
provoke, it. Three times have-you been on the
point, or seemed to be, 'of dispossessing 'that
boy, Sybilla's child, and each I hoe our child's
file has paid . for it: When die • news first,
came, kwo years ago, that Rome would aid
you to dispossmis the young lord, our imby '
sickened, Mid died eye the day was over. One
iyear_sgo,_themew.4 . _came_the-seconddime that
Rome would certainly aid you to dismasesit
the boy, and our second baby died. No'w you
have heard to' the same effect again, and. thi , r,
our lasf, thurdiug, is dying. And yet—Leolin!
—you are not n bit nearer your ambition than
you /were, for the younglqrd is, the lord still.'
'I am astoniShed at you, Arius! At any
other moment I should reprove you. They •
have been, mere common coinciltuces, such
as occur in everybody's life. Put away fan
cies so ridiculous, my dearest?' '
•I wish I could Put away my babj's dan
ger,' she vaunted, in a wailing tone.. Oh,
Leolin! I you I think I Shall go with'hint
if he is to die.' -
Leolin could do no good in the sick cham
ber: men do not like to stay in flitch, and
what with nurses and other attendants, there
was no room for him. Ile was ardently at
tached to the child; and. ho'weot outside and
paced underneath the piazza in the court
yard, feeling that he would almost give bid
life to save (tat frail one flit ting,hway. But
ere lie had left his own ball; aia:ble•looking
boy,. of _eleven or_twoNe years. old,. entered
and confrOnted hint. It was Leolin's bete
noire, the young lord of Pommeroy.
'Will'you tell MO how the baby is, Uncle
Leolin?' he began. 'They have boon bringing
tidings to inamma - that it is worse. Is it true?'
.'Get out, you serpent! how.dare you enter
my house ?' foamed Leolin; venting his an
guish and his ill-temper on the Child. ' ' All
this is through
,you Alie added, though what
feeling prompted the words he could not tell.
The . child, Itupert,ilid not answer hint;
face expressed sorrow for his int:mperate un
cle; 110b10 in mind as in person, he thiuld not
retort. But another did--one who hod stolen
in after the young lord. Though but. is Child
yet, she had the'baughty, tearless spirit of the
'Pommeroys, and she could speak as Intemper
ately, if she pleased, as could_ her Uncle Leo-
I can toll you what, Uncle Leolin, you are
a fool, and nothing less.'
hold your tongue, Mary. What do.you
do here?'
'I came -because rsaw,Rupe'it oomiog.—
And I shall not ask.yourleave to go *here I
please in the abbey, I shall ask his. he jo
the lord, and you only live in it because Ito
lots you.. It is a good thing for you that I
was not a boy, or yuu should not.'
Looliu•constrained his temper, fdoling how
worse than absurd it was to betray it to these
children ; feeling bow beneath his dignity it
would be to resent Mary_Pommeroy's words.
'lndeed!' criedho, with an air of - indifference.
It is a very good thing,' sha_ropeated.,—
Had I ,been a boy,l should have been the
lord in spite of you all: you don't think ydu
' should have peen allowed to treat me, as you
treat Rupert. The abbey laughs at you be
hind your back', • . .
'What. do you say ?'
'lt does. Everybody in it—except, I dare
say, Lady Anna,, and she would, if, she were
not your wife. Mamma laughs at you, and
the lady laughs at you,. and the servants *all
laugh at you. They-say, 'the fool Leolin
Pommeroy makes of himself through his envy
of the young lord!' Why, you might just as
well iry io dethrone the Pope himself, you
know, as try to dethrone Rupert.'
Leona Pommeroy bold wide the hall door,
and sternly motioned du; children through it
[
towards their' own apartutepLt. The young
lord-walked away courteously, but Miss Mary
went with .a defiant step, and a defiant and
gleeful laugh.
'lf you are so rude, Mary, you shall not bo
the abbey's lady when you grow up,' spoke
Rupert, reprovingly. 'You don't hear me re
tort. upon Uncle Leigh'. if people are not.
civil' to . me, there's the more reason, mamma
says, for my being civil to them, to teach them,
better manners. Anita true turd of Pomme
roy, she says, is always , courteous.'
'1 shall be the lady," returned Miss Mary
Pommeroy, paying attention to tine first part
of his sentence only—' I ahall, and I
Everybody says that, I ought to be, and so do
you say it, Rupert I shall . rule the abbey
when 1 grow
, and everybody in it, except
you ' • .
I,eolin had gone out, and was pacing the
piazza, his heart full of resentment and bit
terness Resentment against what, or witout?
He could nothave.told, had he boon asked.—.
It was an indisputable fact that each of the
times which had seemed to bring his wrong
and ambitious dromnsnear to'him, had wit
nessed the death of his child—the first, the
second, and now—Lcoliu was sure that it was
dying—the' third. Was afato,pursuing
Lechn, in his superstition, asked himself the
question.
It was a cold night in January; very bright,
tile stars and the moon slitting. lie had no
overcoat.; but he did not feel the want of it;
'hie. inward fever of thought kept his body..
warm. -lie had not paced..there long when
his sister came to him, her face unusually
dark and.stern.
.Leolin, what is it that is amiss with the
child ?' she began. •
'Convulsions,' was the curt reply. He is
dying. • .••• •
She walked by his side in silonco for sonic
moments. 'Why do you bring it upon your : .
self?' she presently Raid; in a low tone.
.Bring it upon myself?' repeated Leoliu,'e"
with almost a scream of defiance.
'You bring it upon yourself,' calmly repeat
ed'Miss Pommeroy; •Leolin, host dare you,
how can you be so mad, as to be ever striving
to deprive SYbilla's child of his rights?'
•Beoause he is Sybilla's child,' was, the an
swer.
.Pslia! Ho is George's. And George was
the lord of Poinnteroy, You cannot • kiwi'
against fate, Leolin; but flite can kick agsinst
you. Have you forgotten the scone of Gaunt's
death bed?'
tWho, told you bf that?' he quickly uttered.
•Ifown .atiroad, Leann. You will do
well to recall his words;
_they might have been
to you either a blessing or a curse ; hitherto
you have .madet hem the latter. 'As you deal
by this child,-so may you, be prosperous m your
own children." They Were Gaunt's words to
you; Leolin. And how have yob tlealt by the
Child 'I, and how have you prospered in your
own children? Be wise iu thne't do away. '
with your animosity tind your plots against
Rupert, and then perhaps you may be happy
in children of your own.'
'We are a superstitious moo, I know,' sar
'oasticallyrajoinett Leclin 'but I have yet to
learn that. importance should be attaohed to,
the prejudiced ravings of a dying man.'
'What did Gaunt himself tell, you?' quickly
returned, Joan—' to take heed how, you des
rise& the •warning of a dying' man.' Leolin,
there are things 111 earth that ite.cannot
cc
tilain or account for, thingis, that we may not
dream of in our limited philosophy: why is t
that the words Of ono, dying to this world, are
Vhwrnsl WO2 WHEThi WAREEEPZ esaaaa.
-to often found to bo warnings, true as if they
•
came from Heaven 't Is it, that, at that mo
went, the spirit has caught' a portion of the
divine knowledge it is hastening to, and can
discern the future? I know not; yzu know
not; but we both do know that Gies& death
'' admonitions are often strangely worked out:
wo hoth know that Gaunt's warning to you
has been so.'
'You are - dreaming yourself, Joao.'
'A good thing if wo 4401 been dreaming
•of Into years,' was the retort. 'Ybu received
Mauve from Rome this morning.'
'From . •the now cardinal. They will itot„
annul the marriage ; that question is sot at
rest. But they will recognise. Rupert—our
brother Rupe4—_as the lord, and mo as his
r ole reprosentative.' . '
•What and will that, answer?' scornfully re
turned 'Joan. 'Rupert 'will not 4 yo forever;
lio cannot; .and then the boy. is 'bird of Pom
meroy again,: the true, reigning lord, to be•
dispossessed by none.' •
—Lfhat-Itime—may—bolfar—olfrfitrther-than
your life or mine, fortwe may never hear .
_or_
Itupert's death. He may he dead now, for all
we know; and Until wo do hear of it, I shall
be the lord of Pouuneroy.'
Yaii never will , thou, Leolin. - tell you
that you cannot act against fate - . I.see not
how you can b,e prevented, but you will bo—
for fate has been working against you ever
since Gaunt s death. And how little you
!Mike yourself in the sight of all around. Only
this night you insulted the hey, and the tale.
of it is running. through the abbey.' •
'So he went whining away with it. did he?'
'No. But you'spoko in the hearing ofMary
Pommercy...Antryou know what she is:'
I knOw that she has an insolent spirit, and
that it ought to be beaten out of her. '
'She has Guy's spirit; but she has her good
points. Mrs. Poinuncroy has :not
. repressal
tier will: and it has grown to a mastery, but
oho is ii truthful child and the soul of hone
'You are in leapt, against ate
'tomtit' !'
'You are. You would wish me tamely to
givemP .my preten.dons to_ my father's home
and honors, in favor of, that. changeling boy s ,
Rupert.
'Leolin, ;you' forget yourself. George wan
older than you, and Rupert. is Goorgo's son
end - heir: You have ' been wrong from the
•begianing: right ie right : •And cannot be sot
aside :. had you been a (iia Pomtneroy. you
would never have opughEtodo it. Even Lady
Anna sees how wrong yod arc.'
care notwho sees it,' foamed Leolin.
will 'be lord. of Pommeroi, in spite of you
all, and it is no puny child. born. of Sybilla
Gaunt, who shalla r ---loon; what is ihe matter?'
They were then in front of the west towel',
and Miss Potnineroy ha I halted in her walk,
and stood gazing upwards, as if hinted to
stone.
.She clasped Leolin, and.pointed to the
window of the' haunted room. 'LOORII- 1 - . HUD
—Chow!'.
oso to t m window, glaring down upon
them v ly face, was the spirit of
the it' lord of Pointneroy. At
time., few months, it had been
eonspit :uing the inmates, of the
Obey to stoat - Tim, almost to .death. Never
had it looked more shadowy, morw.ghostly,
Ilan it looked now.
Joan hid her .head and shivered, Leolin
groaned: but before a word was spoken by
either, kfrs. Pommeroy hod joined them.
'Leolin, I can no longer bear it,' she sobbed
forth in her horror, 'it is killing me: some,
must be done, something' devised.
would rather die thon live the life I sin load
ing.'
'Devised!' cOhoodleolin, 'devise resistance
to a spirit that is not at 'rest! Who oau do it?'
I could•bea;_ all, but for that look of re
.proach it .carries in its eyes,' she Obittinued,
with a shudder. • Did you notice that, to
night?' . •
'A reproach that tolls home to hors' thought
Laolin, but ho was humane enough not to say
it. Why do you sit where you clan see the
west rooms, Mrs. Pentinerey'?l, •
'I must it there; I must; some power that
I cannot resist fascinates mo to it. Let me be
where I will, no matter . in what part: of the
abbey; at- Lady Anna's,'at Sybilla's, or out in
the grounds, or away in the village, the mo-'
men. dusk creeps on, I am compelled to go
where 1 can ice the haunted rooms. It is no
if a cord threw me! I cannot resist it, and
there I sit and watch—and watch—and shako
and shiver till I see the spirit, and then, whin
it comes, I cry aloud for aid, or I faint away,,
If it does not cotne,'latim.jll with expectancy,'
and watch through the live-long night, fea
verishly yearning for what I dread to see. It
is killing me.'
'You should leave the abbey for a time.'
'lt would follow me.' moaned Mrs. Porn
meroy„ , •
As she spoke, again 'the figure appeared at
the window, for a moment only, and then it
seemed to vanish into air. A choking sub
caught the breath of Mrs. Pommerey.
' 'Leolin,' whispered Joan, they bring news
of the child.'
A servant was approaching whom they
know to be from the sick room. Her counte
nance was mournful; her tread heavy. Leo
an turned to her with a bursting heart.
'lt is gone, sir. And My lady is senseless.'
The Pomtnernys absurved curious customs.
One Was, that ou the event of a death in the
family, a large, nielancbly-looking flag, with
the Pommeroy escutcheon, was hoisted halt
mast high over the abbey gates, and kept therif
so lung as the corpaVremained above ground.
The flag was white and the escutcheon blank,
anti altogether, as it ,waved abOut, it put the
spectators in mind of it skull and cross-bones
Thedlag.was kept in the keep; to keep it
in the abbey would have been a violation of the
old Pontineroy habits ; consequently, as soon
as HlO,Cblid was gone, the first order issued
was to fetch the fug—Lii death-flag, ad it was
'called in the abbey and the neighborhood.—
Jeffs - and ono of the other servant; men wore
deputed to the mission. They find left the
abbey . beltind them, and, woke turning off to
the grassy- hollow that would take them to
the keep, when they encountered Bridget; who
had been spending the day with her sister,
and consequently knew nothing of what had
just happened. •
'Theo rt home early,' cried- Jeffs, who was
food of adopting the familiar mode of speech:-
' • Ay,' answered the woman, I grew rest
less, and I couldn't atop. Whenever these'
fits ofrestlessness come upon nte,l look upon
it that it's a sign I'm wanted elsewhere. 'Any
ways, I was fidgety, and I came away.'
'We are,off-to fetch the death•fag. '
Bridget drew in her breath. 'Who is gone?''
Bile asked, in a tone of awe.
'The-young child.'
'He! Why he was all but well this morn
•At all events, he's gone now. And the
lord has been Aeon again,' added Jells, in a
whisper
glas he!' responded Bridget,'with deeper
awe. ,
'Be was at the tower window, ghastlier
thou ever. Mr. Leolin saw him; and .Miss
Poinineroy.'
Bridget :gave 'a shiver ; her flesh was
creeping,' she said ' Which of you two will
go along with - mill tothe abbey gates?' asked.
'.'l' either volunteered, and 3, neither would,
oven at, Bridget's urging. Ttioy must speed ,
away to hying the flag. they said. Mr. Leo
lin brooked, no delay in his ordera,.an'y more,
than did the reirt- of the Pommeroys. Bridget
was at a nonplus. What: with the death she
had just haard of, the news that the ghost was
abroad that night, and her own superstitious
feelings and fancies, she did not oars to go on
to the abbey alone, short as the diittinde was.
There appeared but one• alternative,' and, that
was•lo aeooinpany ttui inn to tho'keop,.and
lIIEJ
CARLISLE, PA.;:WEDNESDAY, MARCH. 11, 1860.
dome back with therrh; l . - ''at guy rate; it, would
ensure her companionship.
They proceeded unitiolhated along the low .
grottita, And were aseeilaing the slope of the
keep, talking in an untler toneeNroaa things.
All in a moment, semopting swiftly passed
thitm, with a rush 'and a whirl —it was ()lose to
them—they might limit, put out their hands
and touched it; and its, stony eyes giarerl upon
them as it passed—the attparitien of Guy, lord
of Pontmeroy. Bridget.elutehed held of her
companions, with an...AWful shriek, and sank
Agog her inures on tile ground: the men's
hair rose up above theiehoads, and their teeth
chattered. • •
How they lugged Bridget to • the narrow
dour of the keep, or Itherthey got to it them
-1 selves, and thundered at it till JeroineChme,
they best, knew. ' Bridget made a rush at old
Jerome and seized his-legs, thereby pretty• ,
nearly upsetting him. -.The saints have mer
ay on us all, Jerome! there's the ghost in the
hollow.' -
'lt-was-hero this - IslosSed-nighti'-wailed-Je,-
rome. _ .
Here ?' • :-
'lnside the keep. I' saw it with my own
eyes. What have you come here for?'
' 'The doath-flag. Lady Anne's child's gone.'
The old man lifted his hands. 'How many
more of- the l'ommeroya are to go, ore death
shall be satisfied ?'
"Gam mere,' whispered Bridget ' Mr. Itu•
pert: and then the poet- wandering spirit of
the murdered lord will be laid at rest. I have
said itlristn the
,first.'
They wore going hotize, the two mon . bear!
ing between them the Atried, flag, for it was
largo anti s heavy, and Bridget, catching hold
of both of them and walking with her head
ducked down, when a Most extraordinary in
cident occurred.. Wilking towards them in
the colt winter's tight, without bonnet or
shawl or any other wrapping over her evening
dress of black velvet, with rich white lace on
its low body and sleeves; came Mary Pontine
ray,' Bridget,' who had lifted her oyes at the
footsteps. shrieked out again, for ?the thought it
had been_a spirit. '
!They are saying inthe abbey that papa's
in -the :hollow to-night,' said Mary, as they
()topped in their •astonisliment., and I have
come to see. I have never seen him : others
have professed to distinguish him at the
haunted windows, but I have not:, t waist to
see what hole like.'
!She is off her ItSad!' ejaculated Bridget, iti_
a half whisper. ,
'Yon are off your head yourself for saying
at,' retorted the child. 'ls it en stglnge 'I
should want Orsee papa, We-comm.
tion abotit hint in the abbey? Brill 'came in
just now, and said' tio.ltati seen:tho lord in the
hollow; they had to giv'm hini some brandy;
for ho *as prostrate with fright. And f have
come out to sea him. I hill coo lath if he is
to be aeon.'• • • .
'And you haiM no.fear V uttered Bridget,
aghast.
Tear!' scornfully returned Mary. , 'No. I
have . the Pornmeroy spirit, but not the Pont
moroy superstition. ~ .. . .
'You will oatoh yourricath,' returned firhl
get again,'while the two men stood uncovered
in tl a child's presence. ~, C ould you have put
nothing on you, if you utast hove corns?'
'Of course-I could note had they known I
I
was coining, they- wood. " have . stopped me.—
(lave you seen anything "papa?'
'What has come over 1 ' '' Bridget cousin/
nod to mutter; r ids-a,g4 . 0 scirunian,natunt to
be so devoid of fear. ilte shall see nothing,.
Miss Mary,' she added, aloud; ' a looked-for
ghost never comes'.'
• As if -to confute the woman's words, the
same rushing sound, as of garments passing
them.-was heard,luid a shadowy figure neared
them— Its dull eyes wore strained on the
child, and the child's were strained on it —t ho
spirit of her father. :11.try. brave 113 sho9utti
professed herself, shuddered forth n smother.
ed cry as she looked after it gliding away in
the moonlight; and, to. increase the solemnity
of tiie•scene to the horror-stricken group, the
death•bell tolled out at that moment from the
abbey chapel, for the soul of the
_infant, just
departed.
• The lady of Ponune'roy,sat in her drawing :
room, with hor boy, the young lord, when a
servant entered, and said that Jerome had
come up from the keep and craved speech of
her. She desired him to be admitted. The
' abbey was sunk hesitance and sadness: near
ly mi fortnight had elapsed since the burial
,of
the infant, but Lady Anna's life had since
then hung upon a thread: she was beginning
no-v to recover, and everybody was glad Jea
lousy and dissension reigned in many hearts
in the abbey, the• retainers of one household
even would cherish ill feelings to those of
another, stud perhaps time only one who was
really .beloved by all, was Lady Anna. - Had
she died, it would have been regarded Lis a
great and universal calamity.
...Jerome came in, his !kite hair flowing on
his shoulders. Of kite years he had acquired
,n ) sad look of care. .1 would speak with the
lady alone,' ho said, heading his head with
roverottoe.
'Rupert, my darling, go into the study to
your - tutor,' said his mother;
would rather, pay a visit to Mary, and
hear hor tall about the ghost again, mamma.'
•ds phi will; nay ohild—it is your hour of
leisure.'
• 'Jerome,' said the young lord as ho passed
him, 'has It been seen at the keep since
The old than shook his•hoad. misdoubt
me, sir, that it will soo■ be laid.'
'The servants have sot up to watch, but it
line never been seen since the night it appear
ed to cousin Mary in the hollow, when Jeffs
and the other were bringing !ionic the death
flag. 1 wish L had seen it; they talk so much
of the strange face of my Uncle Guy.' -
'Madame,' said Jerome, drawing near to
the lady of Pommeroy as the boy withdrew,
'the olosing soene is certainly at hand.'
'You think so, Jerome?'
'Nay, it is no thoUght.
,'lteirer the death
sweats wore gathering on - a man, they aro
gathering on-,him. I - said - I should come up
to the abbey, and he did not say me nay ;
times and times, when I would have come up
before, be has said, ' No, when the
death-sweats are on my brow, then. cummon
,
them."
will come down;
bring—Fliom
'Nond but Mr. Loolin.'
'Not Mrs. Pommeroy r
'Madam, no. I could not take upon myself
to counsel it His hatred to her is deadly. I
go also for Father Andrew.'
'Jerome, you have had a trying time. If
it lie in my power, as the mother of the young
lord—he will be the true Idrd now—to recom
pense your fidelity in any way
'You are very kind,' interrupted Jerome.-
have, qeen the Ponfineroys dwindle away,
one 'after another; the old lord first,.*•then
his sons, all save Mr. Loelin : nothing' is left
for old Jerome, but to hope soon to go' after
them.'
'Nay, but I trust you will live many years,
Jerome. • Those dark days Will,paiie away,
and there may be oonifort in. Storelor you
yet. You would balaithful to my
' 'Faithful to Your child:madam'? Ay, that
would I. Is he not a Pmamoroy Y and was
not his sire; Mr. George, with his merry heart,
dcarer„to me than tmme.of tho rest were P'
..jorome backed out as he spoke. le took
his way to the residence of Father Andrew,
which was close at hand, and saw the priest.
'Father,' he "said:' , you moot come With mo to
the keep.'
What's up now?' said tho priest, who was
fond of hie joko. 'Have you got a goose •for
supper, and want me to hap you oar it and
cliArra XIV
said the lady. And
eat it? • IM• at your service. .But it's fast
day, Jorome.'• . • • .
Jeronie dropped his voice to one of grave
import. • 'lt is to shrive a dead man!'
'To —shrive —what do you say?' won de red
the priest,, who had never known Jeronie to
joke before.
'So shrive the erring 'soul of h dead - man,
father;.a man who has him dead to the world
more than nine years. [bid you oome in the
name of the lord of Pommeroy.'
Meanwhile the lady of rommeroy attired
herself for walking, and she then sought Leo-
lin in his apartments. Visits from the lady
to him were rare indeed; hiffresentment against
the yoUng lord precluded much courtesy be
tween them , and he, looked surprised. One
of Leolin's felt grievances against the lady of
Pointneroy was, that through her 'judicious
treatmentandmanagement,at.leastvery much
was no doubt owing to that—her son, instead
of dying oft', a sickly shoot, was growing up
strong and hearty, promising now to be as
- healthy - dad - powerful - in - body as were any of
•
the famed lords ofPomtneroy. ,
.Leolin,' she bega'n, have had a summons •
to the keep, and nm about to obey it. You
must go with mo.' -
'A. summons to Jerome?' was his sarcastic
'retort.
'Jerome brtiught it to me.. Ho would have
brought the like to you, but that kiloomed it
better to come myself. One is lying there, at
the point of death, who ffould see belle you
and me' •
Leolin was surprised and staggered. 'Ly
irig at the keep? • Who?' •rt
She dropped her voice to a whisper. 'The
lord of Pommeroy '
Leolin could not comprehend. - Ile Stared
at her in amazement and confusion.
'lie who has been an exile and a wanderer
for those nine years, Leolin, my brother-in
law and your brother. lie is coins book again,
the true and , only lord of Pommeroy, and he
is under Jerome's care at the koap—dying.'
Leolin caught up his hat•as one dazed, and
wont forth with her. •Poo t e Rupert! - poor ill
fated Rupert!' ho uttereit - 'is he back at last?'
Lindh], in 'the courtesy of a gentleman,
though, from his indulged ill feeling, it went
against Ihe grain. gave her his arm The lady
of Pommeroy took it and they went through
the hollow towards the keep; Loolin turning .
his head from'eide to Side - in the twilight that
was fart gathering. ' Pray the - Virgia that
-Guy's spirit may not &Tapper to us this night,'
ho murinurel, half-aloud, in his superstition.
Leolin, do not fear,' sho sand ; 'it will
soon be laid now.' -
, Withltupert's dearth,' he returned ; ' some
of them liave.said it. Wilma did ho arrive?'
'Speak of• him as the lord, Leolin. told
you, years ago. that. none else hal any legal
right to the title
Jorothe was already bank, and Father An
drew was alone with the invalid. flew is
the lord-now, Jerome?' the lady' inqui:i'ed,
they were adinitted to the keep.
'As ho was, maila - in; There will be no
change for the better.' •
Father Andrew came down • frOm an upper
room almost immediately. If ever a man
looked perplexed. mid scored, ho did at that
moment, ' Tho Sacraments aro to wait,' ho
paid, staring at Leolin; ' the lord would see
you first '
Jerome led the way up stairs, and held th 6
door of a charnher open for the lady 'of Pom
mercy and Loolin to pass in. Leolin approach
ed, thri bed on Lip -too. The windows were
narrow and deeply set in the wall, and tho .
daylight, besides. WAS growing dim, so .that
ho lisik to bond over the bed to , discern the
features of him who lay upon it. ' Rupert,
welcome home,' he said. 'Rupert
—,---
With a cry that sounded too wild in its ter
ror for anything human, -Loolin Pommeroy
started back. Ile saw not the handsome It'u
port lying on the bed, but the ghastly features
of the apparition; the glazed oyes and the
hair-lip of Guy, lord of Pornmeroy.
Sybillt. laid hold of Loolin to detain him,
Uorhaps - to reassure him. Guy himself,
Leolin,' she whispered; 'it is not his spirit.'
' Leann sank down on a chair, utterly con
founded, the drops of Plirspiratien oozing
from his forehead.. Ito wits doubting whether
itc, was in a dream; he was doubting what was
true around him, what false:-hp was doubting
whether that, on the bed, was Guy in tho spirit,
or Rupert in the body, with the semblance of `
Guy's face. The head turned itself slowly
round on the pillow, and the dull eyes sought
his.. 'Loolin, my brother,' caino to his ear in
a hoarse whisper ; and - the voice was Guy's,
not Rapereir.
Leolin,' cried Sybilla, 'you will recognise
Guy as the limo lord of Ponmiero ; whatever
may have happened, while ho lives,, tho title
is his
'Guy, yes! ?yes!' Leolin interrupted; 'who
would dispute his tight?!
.• Leolin, he hne never forfeited it. It
was Rupert who was killed, not Guy.'
I cannot understand,' he uttered. .
'ln that scuffle in the haunted ropm the
one killed was Rupert,' she resumed: 'lt
who supposed to be till lord, and he was bu
ried as the lord, but it was Rupert. The lord
escaped.',
I beat him to death,' broke in the lord from
his bed, in a tone of
,conoentrated fury.
put a bullet in his head, and- then-I- beat his
face to pieces. Leolin, he was your brother
and mine, the son of our father and our moth
er; nevertheless I but gave him what he rich
ly merited lamon my dying bed, and I toll
y r ou but, the truth: :let it pass.
LeOliti was confounded still. 'The spirit
haunting the next rooms—your spirit---'
Was myself,' interposed the lord. 'Can
you wonder that I haunted them in the body,
to gaze on what was once my happy homer
You brought nearly death to a,onto of us,
death from terror, • Guy,' spoke Leolin reap
proachlnathe hod., •
B o
Bad I brought death to no , who saw me,
who watched for me. I should have brought
her her deserts,' ferociously spoke the lord;
'Rupert paid the penalty of his guilt; she,
equally guilty, lives. But people don't die
from fright, Leolin; and ,the rest of you can
make the ghost a joke for your future lives.'
Leslie was turning things over in his mind.
'Did you know it was no ghost?' be asked,
addressing the.lady of Pommeroy.
know and Jerome alone;' she re
plied. 'Stay, Leolin—l see what that re
proachful look men . jouthifirt I ought to.
tin •
have told you tidy Anna. But I was
under an oath of sooreoy to Guy not to breatlie
a word .of his existence. 'Onoe or twice I
thought you must have suspected •the truth,
,then I insisted upon it that the lord was the
lord still; you could not expect I ithoulcreall
the sinful, erring Rupert lord of PommerOyi
at least you ought not to have expected
'And hoW did you learn it?' demanded Lett
lin.
will tell you. When the news of the fa.
tal affray came out to us In India, the full
particulars of Guy's murder by Rupert, my
hffsband had ncecruple in assuming his rights
as lord of Pomnaeroy„ We Were up the coun
try on the hills, having gone there for my
he'alth and the ahildren's—we had- two ilien.
George had temporary leave of absence; and
we discussed our plans, which were for him
to sell out, and that wo should return to Eng
land and, live at the abbey. Imagine our
consternation, then, when we were visited
there by Guy-by Guy himself, the dead lord,
dead as we had supposed.'
startled you, Sybilla,' spoke up Oat
team Itoleo from the bed; but It was grow
feebl,e now. • •
• 'You startled George more, Guy,' she re
plied. #1 believe ho really did think it was
your spirit, as they have thotight here.. W
learnt thO true ,version of the , affair, Leolin.
we learot#—tlie 'tidy dropped her voioo
she spoke—#the wrong,' the promotion dono
to Guy by'Rulieit: Ile said lie should be a
wanderer forever, and Ito insisted repo , 'to be worked out. Will the lady,' he added,
George's retaining the title 'and revenues a ',turning to her, 'suffer that room to remain as
Pornmerliy. , George acquiesced. as a matte .14 is: with all its winked memories?' •
of prenaution, for it might have been flange.l • 'Surely not,' replied thnlady of Pommeroy,
mei to lot it get abroad that Gay lived; be r musing herself from a reverie. ' • Its associa
c moo over, to assume • sovereignty hero In& ti ms shall be removed, so far as ray aid can
w suirLnet.:_they would take but the.mere r d s it: the whole wing shall be renovated add
pittanc) for his own wants, and we onjoye.l e obsollislied and the nun's plods's,' destroyed.
tire rest. Upon George's death:Gay corns to Leolin, I risk you a question again that-I ask
me again; he, pressed mole return home, and el you Years ago: Shall it bo peace between
assume sway at Pommeroy in right of in/'• us? Surely, you will not now refuse?'
child, and I obeyed.' • '
.Leolin Pommeroy put his hand into here.
Ire a few. hours' time he will ho the trus.,„'•' It is or no use acting against fate, Sybilla;
legitimate lord of Pommeroy,' interrupt.° I y rurchild mint be the for[ now, and no wish
Guy. Leolin, your Op mition to him mud, or pbwer of-mine can hinder it. But this very,
end with this night.' evsning, bongo I learnt' the startling fact of
I thought . Rupert 'was alive, yore see,' G e'y'e return . : I hail promised' my'wife never
stammered Leolin, feeling suddenly ashame 1, I ag Lin to move sot or part against the young
he could not tell why, of his .machinations a- I lord I shall love the boy yet; I should have
g Oust the young Rupert loved him before, but that I steeled my heart
w` , And what if ho had been?' retorted Guy,' against him. We shall be- happier together •
ith all his ohl.sternnese, 'who else, save the thin we have hitherto been.'
ohild, had a right to be the reigning . lord? With the gray light_otanorning,—Mis.-Tom--
Sybilla, he ida bravdbOy av
ho heard much no troy, in wonderment rind dread, 'was sent
of him from Jebom.l-- ,1 13 will make a more fir to the. keep. " They were taking her'into
w salty lord than some of us did. Is it true tin s chamber without preparation, but Sibilla,
th it he and—and—my child—are attached to with her igornan's heart interfered. 'lt is to
each other?' • • sae him who was once your husband,' she
' Very much indeed. But, Guy—if I wider- w risperel; ibe prepared for the shook.'
Si and the hens of your thoughts aright-1 Liste'ning as ono riliaLlmars not, and shalt.'
w mull remind- you that because they lire ;in her bewilderment, she went on. Guy,
Ea :bed as children, it ~does not follow that n• lof Pommeroy; lay there, dead now, She
(hog will be as man and Women started back. with a cry of horror, 61 Leolin
-• I know that,' he 'faintly • replied; 'I was dbne. ' ' •
h•tt )ooking to a contingency. Should it prove • 1 told you to be prepared,' said the lady.
th it the attachment continues, yo -n Be is at rest at last. These nine years he
wall not set your face against my child, from ris beak wandering, a miserable, exile, Wan
remembrange of her mother's sin?' lo.ing - in the body, Mrs..•Pommeroy; not in
•I. will not,' she solemnly said. 'You have th • '
in/ promise:'
.• What trick are you' playing on me?' she.
..'And Leolin, bayou a witness to her moth ;wad. •
er, should the question ever arise, that it: WIA, - 24.T3 trick,' struokin Lsolin. ' , Timone who
m i wish,' he laid a stress upon the words. w inlrilled in the haunted room, who was bur- '
'H multi other circumstances be TaVireable to le l with all the honors as chief of Pommeroy,
it that neynhild should become lady of Pom- 414 Report; not the lord. The lord has tint
in trey. • have in ids" my will,' and you sun: .1i..1 now. You have been yearning in your
M try's guardian.' no art, Mrs. Pomading, for the return of one
•Guy,' Lsoihninterrstptel. - Von talk of dy-; w to. V/11,1 gone from the world forever.- It was - -
ing,...bitt iknovi'dot what disease is upon you.. Reeport_whe expiated Mixing on_that wret h
is there ndhope?' • . ; ed . night.'
-.None.' •• • Mrs POmmeroy felt as one baited. With a o
• If there were—you might live amongst ny • vat effort She rallied her courage and tried
o' tin, and remains your p , PlitiOil as °bier defiance. 'Then, if the kid has been alive; I
'Deere would be no punishment inflicted nn , have been the real lady of Pommeroy; and
yin—you but . nveriged yourself on ono win .; vs t,' turning to Syblilla, a usurper-'
di I you•foul wrong.' For the moment none spnke, but Mrs yeast •
Resume my place amongst you ,again - m toy 'quailed froin their looks of reProaoh:
so .111 Father Andrew, wino had mostly a kind
'Divorce her,' between his w sod for all, stood with his arras folded and
ol used teeth.' , stern 'broW. ' Letitia broke the silence.
No. But for my child 1 should havedon :No,' said ho, , yon have not been the real
th it long ago. - AS it is, I leave her to Inse7T.TTef Pommeroy. You forfeited your claim
oeusciance. ram dyingof an incurable, in that fatal night. Tito lord suffered you to
w ird disease, Lean, in laced by mortifica. vet nin his name and abode; but ho accorded
ti en and grief. -ft was that brought me t it. ire bade us bat now say, for the oaks ofleis
13 'gland again: After a few months stay then And Mrs. Pommaroy's face fell, to be
daring which I learnt that. nothing conic! I»! hi lien in her hands, for she could net bear
dine forme, and that a short period Must I thrt they should gaze on its glow-of shame.
close it, I cam down last autumn to Jerome. 'Better touch him, madam,' put in supersti-
When - my father on Iris death bed m t tin H old Jerome; cempaseionatelye 'it is said
pinmiser that• 160' keep should be Jerome:l that when vie touch a corpse we don't dream
In )(no in his lath-er days, Ire little thought it of it—better just touch hiin.' .
it laid - also be mine. Here I have been sineo - mince more, and, in ono sense, for the second
'autumn,.and here I shall dio.' lima, Guy, lord of Pommeroy, wasmoneigned
Thera was a great deal yet that stagger° I to the vitults of his forefathers, not with, the
L solin. l 'flow cohld you hare got into lien lib tore of the chief of Pommeroy, but' as a -
h tented room unseen?' he asked: yo Unger brother: the ceremonious grandear
The lord looked up at his old servant, who hal boon given to Rupert. But the crowds
wig in his full confidence, and had been in assembled to witness it wore beyond precedent,
his father's before him. 'Shall wo tell him for the wonders had been made known, and
the secret Jorernol strictly speaking, it ought I the people Soaked together from far and wide.
to.be known but to the lords of Pommeroy. I F.dlowitig, as chief mourner; in right of his
I imparted it to George; and Sybilla holds it, position, as head of the house, was the young
fur her child.' •• " lord. of Pommeroy; and, walking close behind
'Ah, sir, what matters it?' was the answer. him, canto Mary, led by, her uncle Leolin.
"the future lords of Pommeroy will have less I lerome?was after them. And the death-flag,
or rase for soarers, maybe, than some of Dross I Mika waving over. the gates of Pommoroy
that ardpast. And Mr. Report know it.''
'Yes, and so brought the curse upon th r
house,' itupetonsly spoke the lord. 'There is
a subterranean passage, Leona, from thin
place, the keep, to the haunted roone — in'tim
west tower., . The entrance to the room is be
hind the nun's picture; the panel turns noise
le+sly. That was how Rupert entered—that
was how L entered lately„ whoa it has been
my pleasure to roam about those rooms in al
evening; there is allot of keys to their locks:
the butichlangs in the underground passage.'
Leolin turned to Jerome. 'You knew of
this secret communication between the keep
anclrhe abbey?'
'Before you were born, sir.'
Again Leolin bent over his hrother. • • , Guy,
islt to bo made known —the fact that it is you
who lived, and that Rupert diode
A smile, actually a smile, but a ghastly 0110.
flitted over the lord's face: 'By to-morrow
m srning [shall bo dead as Rupert—What than
can it matter tome? Yes, It must be marl.;
known, for the sake of the young lord's right ;
that will now bo indisputable; and my Will
in ;tit be proved?: .Y•ou have marvelled. I hear.
that George, during his reign, and Sybilla
since, suffered a largo portion of thdrevenues
of Pommeroy to accumulate: tiro sum thus
realized is mint- to dispose of as ['will...Most
of it will bo yours, Leolin.' r,
Hie voice had been growing so feeble while
ho spoke that they were alarmed, and sug -
grated the recall-of Father Andrew, who was
waiting below. But, 'before they retired, Lb-'
olin again put a question to the lord.
would you-not see your—l mean Mre.' - Pom
. '
'Not while Llive. Bring her to see me n 3
the breath gdes out of ring body. Toll her it
IY•is to him she brought death that night: riot
to me. Toll her that if I hero been lenient
in suffering her to retain my name and the
rightlinhe forfeited, eye owes it to her child,
I would have seen, Joan, but she is swayin
g %in '
. ..
The priest took their place and they retired,
to sit round thetre in the lower room of the
keep. Leolia buried his face in his hands
and mused. 'I cannot understand, oven yet.'
he 'suddenly spoke, looking at Jerome. 'lf
Rupert was the ono killod, hciw was it he wore
the clothed of the lord?'
•It was but the coat,' said Jerome. 'After
he was :dead. the lord took off his own and
put it upon Rupert. Ife put the contents of
his own pockets about hitn; ho wished it he
be thought—it was a sudden impulse, he told
me—that he was dead, and that Rupert had
escapod; -perhaps he thought it would make'
his own escape easier to accomplish.'
'You knew of it, Jerome?,
• 1
'I learnt it the same night.
,I came to the;
keep, where - I. knew Alto one escaped must be, I
and there I found the lord. • I supplied him !
with food and clothes till the day of the grand ;
funeral, and then, -Mr. \ Loolin, I left the ab
benind came to the keep for good. The lord
looked on titAid'own funeral, and when the
ctnindri was being scoured for Mr. Rupert, he
was decaying in the great vaulti, and the lord
was with tne,. in hiding. 'Soon after, he made,
his escape in disguise.r
'Then, 'when Bridget and others professed
to see tine apparition of the lard, it was the
lord himself they saw?'
tft was, air. I warned him not to'stir out,
of the keep, but he was reStless, filmiest mad,
and would steal out in the dark of evening and
stride about the hollow. Several saw him on
the night of the funeral. And since his return
this time, he has done the same.' .-
'No wonder we took him for, a ghost,' ex
claimed Leolin; 'ho .is worn to a shatiow,,and
there is a dead, glazed Min over his oyes:. I
I never saw it before in a living person.'
'Sorrow and grief will change the best of
its,' cried J 601110; 'and what, tho. lord has
suffered these nine years he alone can tell.'
'Especially if remorse bo added,' mild Leo..
tin, In an under tone, 'and the' lord oannot
have been.free froni that. His, own conduct,
in the first instance, led to the consequences.'
'Sir, blame hint not,' cried Jerome, lifting
his careworn face. 'it may be that ho coull
not go aside from it: oreheaither: there was
the prediction hanging oier them, end it had
{sl 50 per annum In advance
$2.00 If not. paid In advance
Socry YEARS Stmee..--jA. cotetnporary . con.
tarts an essay on the manners and customs
sixty years since, which is full of admonition
to the prosont.geueration, Sixty years make
great change, not only in the condition of
in individual, but in the habits and principles
of society. We' make an extract for the ben
efit of our readers, male end female:
" When Washington was President, his wife
knit stockings in Philadelphia, and made
.I.;',igh•nuts and stakes between Christmas and
New• Years; now the married ladies are too .
pr ind to make dough-nuts—besides, tlleydon't
know how, so they even send to Madame Perm-
pa lour, or some other French cake baker, and
buy sponge cake for a dollar or two a pound.
In those days the city was full of substantial '
nnforts; now it is full of splendid misery.
Chen there wore - no gray-headed epinsterii,
(11 iless they wore ugly indeed,) for a man
co Lid get married for a dollar. and begin
Ito:Ise-keeping for twenty, and in washing his
Mettles and cooking his victuals, the'vrife se*.
ed spore money_than it .took to , support her.
-Now, I have known a minister to get five hun
-4lred dollars for buckling a couple—then wine,
cake, and et Atoms, five Imodred more— •
wedding clothes and jewels a thousand—six
or seven hundred dollars in driving to the
Springs, or some deserted mountain—then a
house must be got for. eight hundred dollars -
per annum, and furnished at an expense of
three or four thousand—and when all is done,
1111 pretty wife can neither make-a cake, bake -
t loaf of brood, nor put an apple in a dump- •
Then is Cook . ' must be get- for twelve
dollars a month—a chambermaid, a laundress,
and seamstress at eight dollars each,. and as .
rho fashionable folly of the day has banished
the mistress from the kitchen,- these blessed
helps aforesaid reign einpreme, and while mas
ter and iiiistrVitare_playing cards in the par
lor, the servants are playing the devil in the
kitchen. Timis lighting the 'candles at bid - Eh
ends, it soon burns out. ; Poverty comes in at
the door, and drives love out at the window.
It is this stupid and expensive nonsense which
deters so many unhappy old baehelors from
Mitering the state of. blessedness ; '
and hence
you find a longer record of deaths than„mar
singes,
amen Muncutxusas.—Miss Brewster, (Sir
D ivid's daughter) in her "Letters from Can.'
nes aud.Nice," says " Baron Mum:lmam Is
St NlOOl My father Met him at a pici.nie the
other. day, And heard from him the history of
his celebrated namesake. One of hie anceStor u.
had a chaplain who was famous for drawing
a longbow'—told, in foot, the most fatse and
extravagant stories. Ills patron; the Baron
of those days,'wrote a book out- Heroding He
rod, being collection - of still more marvelous
adventures, for:the purpose of shaming thel-
Prieet, for which laudable design he was Pun
ished by having his own name held up to pos
terity as the story-teller par excellence," This
shOws that it is very dangerous to lie, even in .
jest. The Munohausens are a- Hanoverian
family.
Otattormetr.---The groat Mass of those who
have taken on their hearts life's:greatest and,
severest duty,go from one piece to the other,
criticised, misjudged, overrworked.. under
paid, the life of an angel demanded of them,
but the'food of it fast-day given them. If they,
ace imprudent, they are put aside ; if they
are Independent, they aro put down; If tiey
sin; ("and there is no mollifying that einneth
not.") the rack and the faggot, In words of
censure, are their fate, 'and whoever . essays , •
to forgive them, must expect to find that vir
tue economically administered to dins.
gegUiVanderincon the ',krona, it sometimes .
.
happens that . tlihnastaway picks up s golden
apple,
.or- some . brighti fruit,. which reminds ,
him•of his own.sunny'olime, and mahea him
WlBll that he'wors there once more. And
whori there is winter- in, his world r arhen JoY
hss fad away and nights aro •growing
the Christian pilgrim sometimes finds at his -
foot au unexpected memento of his tesverilk'' •
home.
105
NO. 26.