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A. E. RHEUM, Proprietor.
Wen. Mi. PORTER, Editor.
VO L. LXI.
TERMS OF PUBLICATION.
The t1A111.181.1.: itEll4l.ll Is published weekly on a tame
sheet eon tai Piing twenty eight columns, an d f =Might& •
g; subscribers at $1.50 I paid strictly In AdV3004 0 4
$1.7.1 If paid within the year; or $2. in' all (ASOS_IVII OII
payment is delayed until after the expiratln of the
year. No subscriptions received for a less. , period than
Ix months, and none discontinued until all arrearages
are paid, nolo:: :it the option of the publisher. Papers
sent to subscribers living out of Cumberland county
must ho paid fir In advance. or the payment assumed
by some responsible person living In Cumberland coun
ty. These tering will be rigidly adhered to in all
cases.
ADVERTISEMENTS,
Advertisements will be charged .Sl/10 per square of
twelve linos for three insertions. and 25 rents for esoh
soh .juen t. insertion. All advertisements of less than
twelve line, considered as a square.
Advertisements inserted before Marriages and deaths
ceol- per line for first insertion, and 4 eqnts per line
or insertions. Communications on sub
,ts of limited or Individual" let••rest will he charged
rents per line. The Proprietor will not be responsi•
hie in d•unaues for errors In advertisements, Obituary
notice; or Marriages liot exceeding fire Hues, will be
flee rted without charge.
JOB PRINTING
littral I 1.1tINT1,1(1 OFFTCE is the
I arLre,t and tonst rompl..te establishment in the eonnty.
Poor Ind a gen..r.tl variety of material
suited for plain and work of every kind. enables
us to do ' , HIM 11, st tho shortest notice and on the
In.t4t reasonable term= It.trons in want of Bills,
Blanks or anvtltinc in thn Jolthini; lin, will find It to
r p,,t i 0 t..,t0 to dye us a
tjelteraf an Local ',information
U. S. GOVERNMENT
Precilonl.—Allß•llll,l LIN,OLN.
li., Pre,i.lent —11.0 , N11111. 11.11.11.1 N.
I , ocretary of FLt,te—Wm. 11. SEIVIItn.
t 4 t. , •rot . try of I nterior—C'ki.rn
rel.trt . of Ttea..nry i1.N1 , 1 , 1 P. CHANE.
Se-rettr 3 . of WAr—rtistnv CAM KKON.
try of Navy—tl i noon W ELIAS.
\ja.,lnr General MoVrio - ,11:ILY BLAIR.
Attorney lionoral—El , Wlßl l II kTES.
.lu,tire of the Unitotl States—lt. B. TANEY
STATE GOVERNMENT
(;`,, , r00r A snit EIV G. CCIITN.
Si•..ret..try of State — lii.i Suatim.
lioneral—Wv. IL Ii EIM.
A u.litor Ounor:il -Tip.. B.
Tr , . ~tror-110:11.1. I) Mocttr..
.1.1.40,, of the Supremo Court—E. LFATN, J. M . ARM
Erito:,:, W. B. I,OWRIS W. WOOI,VyARD. JOHN M. READ
COUNTY OFFICERS
:10.1,40-110n../ainr, 11. Oraluirn.
wigos-11.ou. :Ilichaul Cocklin, Samuel
NVtiorry.
A et,„,—.l. W. D.
Pr , t !moot:try—B.l44mila Uuke.
1: • • , r 1 —Joon r toyo.
Re4l , ter—E A. Brady.
111,11 t , herllT-11,Lbt.. McCartney: Deputy, S. Keepers
I% , llilty Treamrer—Alfred L. Sponsler.
^oner---.lohn A. Dunlap.
Conmi,loom , —Nathaniel 11 . Pekols, James
Ti. \Po, oiler, lien Miller. Clerk to Comlnissiouers,
James 11“..•tr0n4.
•. the Poor —Jon, Trimble, Abraham Res
ler, John Mill,. Superlutentleut. of Poor House—
Henry Sty der. .
BOROUG
OFFICERS
Chief ilu r..;oss —John Noblr
Ah,..is Uu,L But-gest—Adam Sea. nen.
nin.•ll---Jokn ',V.., W. Dale, J. It
Irvine, I fi4:tn Corn ey, .1,, h n Halbert, J. B. Parker, Fred
emelt Un,lan, Samuel
Cnunell.—.las. U. Nlasonheilner.
II td - la C'utstables—Bed. Bently, Jesepl. Stuart. Ward
CunstaldeN—Jacal. 'Bret", Andrew lartin.
Ja.leei.of the pour,'--A. I. Spot.lur, David Smith
11i•hael 11,! nub, A tun IN•hutt.
CHURCHES
First Presbyterian Church, Northwest angle of Con
re Square. Rev Conway P. Wing Pastor.—Sure ices
every Sunday Morning at I 1 o'clock, A. M., and 7 o'clock
P. M.
Second Presbyterian Church, corner of South Hanover
and Pointriq streets. Rev. Mr. Belk, Pastor, Services
commence at II o'clock. A. M.. and 7 o'cloek P. 51.
St di ilin's Church. Prot. Episcopal) northeast angle of
Centre Sq 1105. Fi antis .I.Clerc, Rector. Sera ices
at II o'clock A. M.. and 3 o'clock, I'. M.
English Lutheran Church, Bedford between
l,outher streets. Her. Jacob Fry. Pastor. Services
at 11 o'clock A. 11., and t' o'clock I'. AI.
dermas Reformed Church, ',outlier. between Han
over. and Pitt streets. Rev. A. 11. Kremer, Pastor.—
Sei vices at 11 o'clock A. M. and 6 o'clock I'. 51
Methodist E. Church. (firs) charge) corner of Alain and
Pitt Streets. Rev. Jo.epli A. Ross. Pastor. Serricesat
11 "'dock A. M. and h o'clock I'. Al
Met hodist E. Eh urtv,io.oind 'burg,,.) Rev. Herman M.
Johnson Pastor. 61`rVi , C, in Emory M. E. Church at 11
o'clock A. NI. and 6 P 51.
St. Patrick's Cathohe Church. Pomfret near East et.
James Kelley, Pastor. Services every other
Sabbath at Id o'clock. Vespers at 3.
German Lutheran Church corner of Pomfret and
11,' ford streets. 11ev. 11. A. Stratify Pastor. Services at
11 o'clock, A. M., and 13! , i; o'clock, I'. 51.
ir,,—When changes In the above are necessary the
prayer persons are requested to notify us.
DICKINSON COLLEGE
Rev. It. M. Johnson, D. D., ['readout and Professor o.
N oral Sdrua•.
James W Marshall, A. M., Professor of. Latin Lan
guages and Literature.
Ker. Win. L. Boswell, A. M., Professor of Greek Late
guaeo and Literature.
William C. Wilson, A. M., Professor of Natural Science
and Curator of the Museum.
. .
Samuel U. Hillman, A. M., Professor of Mathematics.
A. F. Mullin, A. IL, Principal of the Grammar
School.
John,B. Storm, Aiisistant I❑ the grammar School
o
BOARD OF SCHOOL DIRECTORS
Andrew Blair. Pre .dent, 11. x ton. P. Quigley, E
Corn nut U. C. P. Ilunierieh,.l. Hamilton, Secretary ,J axon
'W. Eby, Treasurer, John :-‘phar, Messenger. Meet mi
the let Monday of each Mouth at 8 o'clock A. M. at Ed.
°cation Hall.
0
CORPORATIONS
C 4111.18LF, DIMOSIT DANK.—Pronldent, It. M. Henderson,
Cashier, W. M. Scutum; ASFIt. Cashier, .1, P. Hauler;
Teller, Jas. honey,; Clerk, C. It riahier; Meuwnger,
John Underwood; Directors, It. M. Henderson, John
Zug, Samuel Wherry, .1. D. Dorgas, Skil. Woodburn,
D. C. Woodward, Col. Henry Logan, ;high Stuart, and
Jain. Anderson.
CUMBERLAND VALLEY RAIL ROAD COMPANY.—Prestdont,
Frodorick Watts: Secretary and Treasurer, Edward M.
Biddle; Superintendent, 0. N. Lull. Passenger trains
twice a day. Eastward leaving.Carliede ut 10.10 o'clock
A. M. and 2.44 o'clock P. M. Two trains every day
Westward, leaving Carlisle at 5.27 o'clock A, Id., and
3.30 P. M.
CARLISLE OAS AND WATER COMPANY.—Presldont, Lem
uel Todd ,• Treasurer, A. L. Spongier • Superintendent,
George Wise; Directors, F . Watts, 41.13. M. POELOIII ,
E. M. Henry Saxton, R. C. dward, John B.
Bratton, P. Oardoer, and John Campbell.
CUMEERLAMD VALLEY BANK.—PrsNont, John S. Ster.
raft; Cashier, IL A. Sturgeon; Teller, Jos. C. Hoffer.—
Directors, Jahn S. Sterrett, Wm. Icor, Molchoir Brune.
man, Richard Woods. John C. Dunlap, Boit. C. Sterrett,
Id. A. Sturgeon, and Captain John Dunlap. '
SOCIETIES
Cumberlas:l Star Lodge No. 197, A. Y. M. meets at
Marion hall ou the 2nd and 4th Tuesdays of every
Mouth. .
St. J ohns Lodge No 260 A. Y. M. Meath ad Thurs
day of each month, at Marlon hall.
Carlisle Lodge No 01 I. 0. of 0. F. Meets Monday
evening, at Trouts building.
FIRE COMPANIES
The Union Fire Company was organized In 1189.
Preskmat, E. Commas; Vice President. Samuel
Wetzel; Secretary, J. D. Darn pton ; Treasurer, P. Mon
yor. Company meets the first Saturday in March, June,
September, and December.
The Cumberland Fire Company was Instituted Febru
ary it, 1809. President, Thos. Thompson ; Secretary
Philip Quigley; Treasurer, E. D. Quigley The company
meets on the third Saturday of January, April, July,
and October.
The 0 oral Will Hose Company w as instituted in March,.
lorth. President, 11. A. Sturgeon;' Vice Presideut,C. P.
munri c h ; Secretary, William D. Ileibert ; Treasurer,
Joseph W. Ogilby. The company meets tho second
Thursday of January, April, July, and October.
'rho Empire Hoek and Ladder Company wile Institut.
ell in 1851. President, Wm. M. Porter; Vico President,
John 0. Amos; Treasurer, John Campbell; Secretary,
John W. Paris. The company moots on the Diet Fri
day in January, April. July and October.
Y. M. C. A
ROOIti—MAIITON TULL.,
Regular monthly meeting—Third Tuesday Evening.
Prayer meeting—Sunday Afternoon at 4 o'clock.
Reading lienm and Library—Admission free, open
-every evening (Sundays excepted} from 6 to 1p it'uloek.
Strangers especially welcome.
RATES di' POSTAG
, ..
. .
Postage on all lottersof,orp,hair mincd weight or tin ? ,
der, 3 centaur() paid, except to' Ualifornia of Ore g on,
which .is 10 conks' prepaid.' 4
--- „.
Postage on „the ''herald "—within the. County, free:
Within the State 13 - cents per year,. .To anypart of the
United States 20 cents: - Postage on nil transient papers
under 3 ounces in weight,-1 cent pro - paid , or two cents
paidnu. ' Advertised letters, tObweharged With the coat
sereethdeig .
. .
,fflarktrAl Nintr,l3.,
THE DYING LQVi.,lt.
These sweetly passicmate yorses are from the Orleans
Dhltit i to which Journal they are said to have been con
tributed by a young man lying almost at the point of
loath :
Beloved, beloved,lny feet alone are vralitlng
Icnpatha,,tvhieh thou hoot trod with me:
I hear no mole the music of thy talking
O'ersweep thittiolds where summer blossoms be:-
0 remi. trees in blessing wave their arms above me;
The night bird tiraAth nearer with his sighs;
But not one human voice has.salti, 1 •1 love thee,"
Since litpt I road love's story In° oyes:
evil wqlk the paths between us!
My hear: gr?4Weenvy with ummoken fear,
Will.e'en our truthAT strong enough to screen us
From fate as terrlblhAsthett art dear?
Peath's angel &await even nigh and nigher;
Ilia kiss is nil no brow the while I i;l44tfp,;..
For me, 1 see a marty CR path of tire—
For thee, beloved, a gran eyard where to weep.
And this, alas' Is all life gives of crowning,
A wreath of fame twined out of funeral flowers,
AS if some shipwrecked mariner, while drewiling,
Should grope for gems in ocean's coral bowers.
Bethink thee, love, of all the hopes I cherished,
The dreams my future WAS to make so real;
The houseln.l4l joys that, crushed In death, have per
ished.
In my mad worship of the veiled Ideal.
And yst I lore thee—never will another
Say those three words with such strong throbs of
Such tome like those with which some stricken mother
Bathes eyes which ne'or may meet her own again.
I lure thee—it boo been no Idl • vision -
Rising the moonlight o'er life's troubled sea,
For it will dawn w„oin In climes El3sinn—
Standing 'mong, angels I shall yearn for thee.
And thou wilt breathe my name, perchance, while
rhyming
The careless fancies of an Idler's lines,
Or Imply with the winds above thee chiming
Their lonesome marches through noise groves of
pines ;
And when a fairer head In dreams Ix lying
Where mine has rested upon breast of thine,
From out ttio pant thou'it hoar n low voice sighing,
"tier living love wllilafTess'disitr than mine," '
And thou wilt come sometimes when I am clasping,
And o'er that place of thorns wilt make thy moan,
And beneath the mchtshall bear thy weeping,
And pray for thee beneath the glimmering stone.
My heart shall be where'er thy steps are roving;
Its passions conquer e'eu life's troubled wave ;
Alas! alas! that earth's best gift of loving
Should be u prayer. II trothmlight and a grave!
AI A U 1) ;
OIL, THE BEAUTY OF GLENTHOEN
I=
The mellow rays of a summer sunset
danced and quivered across the neatly
sande I floor of Reuben Brown's humble
sitting-room. The good farmer sat at an
open window, inhaling the breath of the
roses and jessamine, that clambered among
the ivy to the ver3 thatch. At intervals
his ear was greeted with Sweet snatches
of song from a robin red-breast that had
made its home in the noble old oak, under
the broad branches of which the little
homestead had nestled for three genera
tions.
There was a smile of contentment an d
peace in the farmer's sunburnt counte
nance, as he wiped his ample forehead and
"rested in his high-back chair after the
trials of the day, while the scented breeze
lifte the locks, "now wearing- thin and
bare," from his revered brow. It was
with no thoughtless eye that be gazed out
upon the fair scene before him. The
waving fields thatspread their golden treas
ures to his gaze were his. The mill be
yond, its swift sails, now still and motion
less, had no other owner than Reuben
Brown. A comely matron approaches
from the dairy across the road, the light
ness and grace of youth in her step, tho'
youth itself had long since fled, and his
heart received a new emotion of pleasure,
as his eyes follow the form of his dear wife
Mary. And was not their sweet child,
Maud, known far and wide as the "Beau
ty of Glenthorn ?" Ay, happy indeed
was Reuben Brown !
" Our Maud lingers late this evening,"
remarked farmer Brown as he drew near
the board to partake of the tempting
meal that ha,i been prepared for some
time.
The home-brewed ale foamed and froth
ed in the great tankard that had served
his sire and grandsire before him, and it
gave an additional zest to his appetite to
look at the ruddy cheese, dainty butter,
snow white bread, all prepared by the
hands of his excellent wife.
She must have met Charles, and of
course, the young couple take no heed of
the flight of time," she returned.
For a moment a shadow darkened the
farmer's brow; he shook his head moodily,
as ho replied, " I fear that heavy hangs the
hours Maud spends in Charles' company
now; she isn't as she used to be, singing
like a lark from morning to night. She
ever seems uneasy when Charles comes to
the farm. But you must have noticed
this change in her yourself."
His wife said that she had observed a
coldness between them, a lover's quarrel,
which would end in a mutual reconcilia,
tion, and unite their hearts closer than
ever.
"The coldness is all on Maud's side,"
continued Reuben; "a half glance might
prove to you that Charles loves the very
ground she stands on. Listen, Mary, I
was led to speak on this account of what
I witnessed yesterday. When the people
wore coming out of church, Charles hast
ened to her side, but she, With a cold sa-
lute, passed on- npd . joined some of her
companions. • It grieved me to see the
expression of pain that rested on his
countenance. Seeing. my eyes upon him,
he yied to look indifferent, but it was
easy to see that the arrow of disappoint
ment had entered his heart. He soon
took his leave without casting a look
" Maud, Maud, what has happened ?"
burst simultaneously from the lips of Ma
ry And_Reubea, _as Maud-entered,- accom
panic d by a stranger,while•the garments
of both_ bore 4noo-of having-zee-ally:
been in. the water.,
Maud hastened to relieve her parents'
anxiety, by explaining the d'aliao of her
peesent appearance. Returning from old
Lucy's and 'lingering oh the banktief the,
stream, at 8010 distance from the
she had reached for .a flower, fell in, and,
'PA,PAR, ROM TIMM ra,l , tEtar GEROFSa.
EC=
'.,tyguld'ineVitably have been drowned, but
lor--elMgtrange.r,-,*,ho plunged in and
saved her.
Reuben grasped the young man by the
hand, telling l im to consider him as his,
.
best friend ,and henceforth there was not
a more welcomeguest at farmer Brown's
than William flOward. • Tall, dark, with
eyes of deep blue, whidb had nn expres
sion so full of generimg feeling that he in
stinctively won the - confidence of all, while
his graceful manners made a most pleas
ing impressiomon the grateful hearts of
the parents. i;
" Dame nature never intended you for
a farmer, ply boy !" said Reuben Brown,
who had been noticing the white and del
icate hands of William Howard, as sonic
evenings subsequently, lie was assisting,
Maud to tie up the broken trellis-work of
her arbor.
" I am an artist," he smilingly returned.
"My art led me to visit the beautiful
scenes of this favored country."
" You admire this part of ,t,he country,
then ?•' interrupted Reuben, evidently
much pleased at William's preference.
Many were the praises that the young
painter bestowed on the scenery of Shrop
shire, but of it the surrounding neighbor
hood pleased him most, and with the ac
curacy of one who had been brought up in
the village, lie described each charming
landscape.
" On my word, you know the place bet
ter than I do inys.elf. , Have, you never
been here before ?" inquired It übeo.
William said th it he had been staying
in the village for several weeks, talking
sketches.
" Didn't you ever sea my girl before
the evening when you so nobly rescued
her ?"
It was not without a motive that farmer
Brown asked this question ; while Maud
-bent her heir.l , sver the 'tangled flowers,
and licr cheek wore a brighter red than
the sweet ro+ebui which she was uncoil
scion:ly picking to pieces.
William replied somewhat evasively,
that few would visit the neighborhood
without the desire of seeing its fairest
flower.
Weeks wore - on. William, who had not
yet completed his sketches, wto a daily
bat net an unwalconn visitant at farmer
Brown's, if we except the 'worthy hest
himself. He now perceived the cause of
indintiince to Charles Frost, her
aflitnced hin'oand, dttin.; this change, in
her sentim ruts to the first appearance of
the youog p tinter in the villago. Yet he
would net deny the hospitality of Iris house
to one whe had be n instriturmtal in sav
ing the life of his child.
All this titua Charles had not approached
the cottage. It piqued the prida or the
father that the young min shield appear
so unmindful or the charms of his beauti
ful diatgliter, while he waited in daily ex
pectation or seeing him eotning to make
overtures for a recanciliatiun.
Charles Frost was his own master, and
the richest farmer in the place. There
was not a maiden in the parish who would
not be beside herself, if he had bestowed
on her the love that thrilled no reap in
sive chord in the heart of the village
beauty.
B 'itrothed to Charles when a mere child,
Maud had mistaken a sisterly affection
for that deeper feeling that every woman
should bear with her to the :Liter. ith
sorrowful anxiety she now felt that she
could not reciprocate his attachment.—
Love—first love—lawned upon her soul
when, in one of her visits to old blind Lu
cy's, she found her place occupied by a
noble looking youth. he arose respect
fully when she entered, and bowing to her
as if she were "the lady of the land," with
a look of silent intense homage, he took
his leave.
Many times did the stranger cross her
path after that, yet he never offended her
by lifting. his eyes to see her—beautiful
face. As he moved slowly along, appa-
rently engaged in the study of nature, her
eyes involuntarially marked his dignified
bearing and graceful carriage, which
served as a dangerous contrast to the some
what awkward air of her rustic lover.
Maud had received an education far su
perior to persons in her rank of life. She
was not only a correct 'scholar in her own
language, bat she had made considerable
progress in French, and played With.tiste
and skill on the piano.
What a new.delight it was for the young
girl to meet with one who could sympa
thize with her ! Every word of William's
thrilled her to -the heart; he opened to
her glimpses of worlds which were un
known to her before. No wonder that
away from him, life seemed to have Jost
its sweetest charm.
Another week effected a great change
in the cottage. Charles, stung with jeal
ousy, and fearing that he might be sup
planted by William, conquered his pride,
and sought an interview with Maud. But
she was absent when lie called, having
gone to visit the friends at whose- school
she was educated.
An understanding followed between
himself and the farmer, whose highest am
bition was to see Maud the wife of the
" uppermost farmer in the place," as - he
was described in„ his native village.—
Charles well know the effect of address
ing himself to the father's feelings, and
he now aroused all his indignation against
William.
" You are the talk of the village," he
said ; " people wonder at you for allowing
a penniless adventurer to seek
, the hand
of your daughter. Believe me, Reuben,
he already thinks this farm securely his
own."
ilefore Charles left the house, Reuben
promised him that in ten days .more Maud
should be his
"Next Sunday week will be the twenty
fifth-anniversary of-our-wedding," ho said;
turning_ affectionately towards his wife,
who, wjth a troubled look on her- face,
faintly.smiled, but remained silent. "That
blessed day's sun will not set without see
inOlaud a happy bride."
Preece - dad on hor way.. linny
times_ 'did she cast a "longing, lingering
look behind," but William who had never
CARLISLE, PA., FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1861.
failed to meet her in her rambles, did not
' make his appearance now. A shade of
disappointment rested on her face, and
hoping to meet him on her return, she
she hastened towards the school.
Her old friends greeted her with their
usual kindness, entertaining her hospita
bly.
"My dear child," said Mrs. Montague,
"you will come to the schoollooom.and
see the beautiful painting that was sent
yesterday. We know not who the kind
doner is. A note begging its aeceptance
was written in a bold vigorous hand. I
doubt not but that it is the hand-writing
of the painter, Who, we think, must have
sent us this charming present,.as a kind of
altar-piece, since during the re r building of
the church, our vicar has used the room
on Sundays as a chapel of—"
" It is the Madonna," she continued,
appfoaching the picture; and drawing
aside the veil that covered the painting,
turned to Maud with an inquiring look.
With an exclamation of surprise, Maud
beheld, in the beautiful countenance of
the Madonna, her owa sweet resemblance.
Mrs. Montague seemed to enjoy her sur
prise and confusion.
" We all said you must have sat for it,"
said she kissing her white brow ; " yet if
the painter wishes to preserve the incog
nito, we shall not ask you to reveal it."
The lady went on to tell that Charles
Frost, who was her nephew, bad called to
see her some two hours previously, when
on his . way to..tbe
"Did he see this painting ?" asked
Maud, unconsciously.
" I showed it to him," replied Mrs.
Montague ; " ho regarded it long, but said
-not a word."
Her friends were anxious that Maud
should remain longer; but, excusing li
,r
-self, she took herdeparture, with a sad
presentiment that seine sorrow was about
to befall her. She had passed through
the w rod that was situated between her
home and the school, mid where the rustle
of every leaf m ide her heart throb with
the hope that the loved one was near.—
She now stood leaning over the little rus
tic bridge that spanned the blue stream
into whose depths she wis gazing, while
her thoughts were occupied with ono im
age that was enshrined in her heart,
A. step at her side brought the crimson
tide to her cheeks, and turning she be
held Charles Frost, regarding her with
mingled sornaw, and love. Surprise in
stantly gave way to disappointment, while
her eyes fell beneath the earnergaze
of
him whose happiness she sadly felt she
was about to destroy,
Have you no word of greotin... "sr inc,.
Maud?" he asked. "It is long: inca we
met—to me it has been an age."
Maud would have spoken, but s ie knew
not how to reply. .'Eln asked for a recon
ciliation, while. lie besought her to give
him bick the love which had blessed his
existence.
" My own dear girl," he confirmed
"you will give me back that love?"
ree," she reputed, struggling in
vain for resolution to breathe the' fatal
truth and tell him that she could never
be his.
tier hand was still in his, her eyes
down-drooped, and her cheek whiter than
the trembling lily that kissed the wave at
her feet.
Yes, Maud," said the young mm, "the
love that vris unchangeably bright be
tween us until—no, I will not wrong you
with the thought. It is not in you to be
stow one encouraging look of fondness on
a nameless wanderer of—"
He pMaied for Maud lifting her flash
ing, eyes to his face, her cheeks burning
with indignation, yet her tongue refused
to speak. He partly undersNd her look,
though he little imagined the light hold
he had on her heart, and in h 1 jealous
excitement he was unsparing in his cen
sures of William.
," If you have aught to say against my
father's friend and the preserver of my
life, do so to his face," exclaimed Maud,
turning away.
"Your father's friend," he repeated with
a loot: of triumph. " ni l _ very day your
father forbids him his house, and wore,
Maud," he added, in a deep, under tone,
"he has said that on Sunday week we
shall be united."
His words fell like a -death-blow on
poor Maud. She Sell knew the deter
mined spirit of her father, and that moment
she would have thrown herself on genor
osity of Charles, acknowledging all,, but
she feared the effects of his resentment
on William.
With a breaking heart She hurried to
wards her home, where she longed to
throw herself on her mother's breast, that
unfailing fount of love and holy sympathy,
for there eho would find rest.
Charles was still at her side, nor did ho
leave, her until ho saw her enter the cot
tage; ho then turned away, feeling that
he would sooner be her husband, sharing
only her undividdd heart, than the pos
sessor of the sole love of any woman be
side.
A painful scene followed. Sobbing
with anguish on her mother's breast, Maud
besought her father to release her from
the engagement with Charles, but he was
inexorable. Yet, while he reproached
her with harsh words, the first he had ever
uttered towards her, his heart sorrowed
for her with all a father's fondness
' " Foolish girl !" ho sighed, as she re
tired, faint and weary. " She knows not
how she would wreck her own and our
happiness by wedding a man she knows
nothing about. She will yet bless her
father for what she considers his cruelty."
• , While Mary's heart was wrung with
,
grlef and pity for her child, she felt her
husband sated according to the dictates of
parental prudence. Maud's love for 'Wil
-liam-sbe-demned a fleeting fancy, fe--
garding her future welfare of more mo
ment than a-short lived 7 regret,- She -pas- -
sively concurred with Reuben in the
stand he had taken against his child's in
clinations.
Maud, remained in her room during the
following day. Deprived'of her mother's
sympathy, - which would have been a hies.
sod solace at such an •hour l she felt noyer
theless that love for her alone prompted
her parents to disregard her sad appeal.to
their hearts.
Poor Maud. As she sat in her little
chamber, she could hear her father mak
ing preparations to•go to the next market
town to obtain the license for the ap
proaching wedding. She heard the un
welcome voice of Charles inquiring ten
derly for herself, speaking hopefully of
the coming time, and with merry laugh
ter, as if lie could not restrain his happi
ness, he departed.
Soon ,afterwards, a knock came to the
door. Her heart scenic° to cease its pul
sations as the beloved tones of William
thrilled through her soul. She strained
her ears to hear her father replying, that
he would talk with him outside. She
knew full well that he would never cross
the threshold again, never be more to her
than if he was naught.
Oh, burden of first•love disappointment!
Oh, glory once fled—life has nothing
more beyond. William had never given
her any assurance of his love, otherwise
than the silent homage which his eyes
ever expressed. Love had no heed of
words.—has it not a more potent lan
guage when the beloved one returns a
like devotion.
Another week has passed rapidly away,
and the sun is sinking behind the hills.—
Maud sat at her open casement watching
its trail of splendor fading away in the
gloomy gest, while she reflected that be
fore another day had ended, her fate
would be irrevocably sealed. Her mother
entered and silently placed a snow-white
dress on the couch, and Maud regarded
her bridal dress with a shudder, as if it
were her shroud.
Unable to witness the festive prepara
tions that were making for the happy
morrow, to all but her, she wandered out
into the green fields, where:the fresh even
ing breeze pressed the cool kisses on her
cheeks, and fink* back the neglected
tresses from her fevered brow. A lark
still lingered amid the clouds, and poured
down its liquid melody ; then Maud for-
got her sorrow as she listened to the Melo
dy of the bird. Half unconsciously her
steps led her toward a favorite walk, bor
dered with lofty elm trees. Here she had
often wandered with William.
Thinking that William was no longer
in the neighborhood, she did not hesitate
to enter the retreat, for in the simplicity
of her heart, she imagined that he would
yield as implicit obedience to the will of
her father as she did to herself.
She proceeded but a few- steps, when
William was at her side. Trembling with
vagge apprehensions„' she could not wholly•
conceal her delight at seeing him once
more. Yet she turned to leave him whom
she loved better than life. Dropping on
his knees before her, he. supplicate,d her
to hear him, fir on that moment depend.
ed his life-long happiness. Then, fel' the
first time, Maul heard a love tale, to which
every pulse of her heart was but too read•
ily responsive. To her surprise William
seemed acluainted with all that had,trans
pired since their last meeting Ire told
her that he hail witnessed her interview
with Charles Frost on the bridge, and her
father informed him of the immediate
union with the young farmer.
" Maud,'' he continued, " far be it from
me to counsel you to act in opposition to
your parents, b,r wedding without their
sanction. But, if through sordid motives
they would wreck your happiness, then I
shill be the first to tell you, that you would
be blameless in refusing to submit to their
tyranny. You surely would not kneel at
the altar to wed one whom you love not ?
It was in obedience to your father's wishes,
that you entered into an engagement with
Charles Frost when a mere child. Your
own judgment will absolve you from keep
ing such a promise, which was made before
you knew the true state of your heart to
wards him whom your father forces you
marry.
" Wretch cried Reuben Brown rush
ingforward, how would you misguide my
child !"
With-the heavy walking stick which
he held in his hand, he would have felled
William to the ground, but for the inter
cession of Maud, who flung her arms a
round her lover to protect him.
" Maud I" shrieked the old man almost
over-powered with rage, " you deserve my
malediction for seeing you in such a situ
ation."
" Stay, my father !" gasped the unhap
py Maud, flinging herself at his feet
" Why would you make me miserable for
ever by compellino. °
me to wed one whom
I can never love ? Oh, bless my union
with William. You have nothing to ob
'pot to him but his want of wealth."
" Cease, girl !" exclaimed her father.—
"I would sooner see you dead at my feet
than married to him yonder. Prepare
yourself for to-morrow, for then you will
be the wife of Charles Frost." ''
A new spirit seemed born within Maud
at that moment—kneeling as she was, she
called heaven to witness that she did right
in vowing that she - would never be the
wife of Charles.
IEI
➢Lary, who dreaded that some misfor
tune was hanging over them, hastened in
search of her beloved ones. She appeared
in time to hear Maud's last words.
" Father, I am ever your loving; duti
ful child; but Leannot consent to wed
against my will. I will part now from
William to meet him- no more, yet I will
noircr be the bride of another."
Maud had risen from her kneeling pos
ture and stood be - fore her parents like a
beautiSil statue.
"Girl go .your way, you are
,free to act
as you pleuso; but remember, when
are left desolate and sorrow-stricken,
nix doors will be closed upon you as
they are now. Mar t y, comel"
-- Uttering those cruel words, Reuben
Brown caught the fainting form of his
poor wife in his arms, and bore her Whet
now very lonely home.
Several Minutes elapsed before.lVilliam
approached MiMd, who apPeared .
conscious of his presence, as• , she stood
milts and motionless, gazing
_with beWit.
dered looks after her parents.
"Maud, my own sweet Maud,"he said,
taking her hand in his, and starting with
alarm at the icy coldness.
She seem(' as if Suddenly awakened
from aho •rible dream, as she turned on
him her despairing eyes.
"Do not look so sadly,,my love," he
cried, taking her to his heart. "Oh, my
own Maud, this. suffering is all for me.—
Hear me, beloved one, every thought of
my life will be tb render you happy• All
will yet be well. Heaven will prosper
our union—your father will before long
open loving arms to you, and perhaps ho
will not reject the husband of his child."
With such words did William seek to
comfort the distressed girl. He informed
her that trusting that she loved him, and
anticipating the result, he, obtained the
consent of a clergyman to unite them, if
her parents placed no prohibition on
their union. As her father put no fur
ther restraint upon her, ho entreated her
to become his bride on the morrow. The
clergyman to whom he referred was for
merly acquainted with William's family.
"He has spoke to Mrs. Montague,
" he went on to say, " and you will
find shelter under her roof until I can
offer you a home."
He now accompanied her to school,
where the lady was waiting to receive her.
The next morning they were united by
license which William had procured.—
Strange and sweet, despite the sorrows
that afflicted her, were the sensations that
thrilled Maud's'soul when William, press
ing her to his heart, called her by the
holy name of wife. That very morning
he had received intelligence which he
hoped would be the forerunner of good
fortune.. In a neighboridg county the
young Lord was expected home
with his beautiful bride. Through the
intervention of a friend, William received
employment at the castle for an indefinite
period. As the young Lord B
was a patron of the arts, he looked %vitl
confidence to the dawning of a brighter
future, and, parting from Maul, Iw
hastened thither to prepare a home for
her reception.
A week passed before they were again
united— ill, whit a weary time it was to
poor Maud? Mrs. Montague had sent
to `laud's mother to let her know where
hcrdaughter was. The messenger returned
with her clothes, but there came net a
word to cheer the drooping spirits of the
sorrowing bride; She would have gone
and bogged on bonded knees for their
forgiveness, 111 , 1 not her husb and ,
exacted a promise from her that she would
leave it to thin to soften her father's
heart, Tor 'until then. she e )uld not hop
to see her loather.
M tad left MN M m ta.2;ue,'A in the, dawn
of a lovely morning, that amiable lady
ble-tin:; her with tearful eyes, and kiss
mug her tenderly offered up a prayer for
the, united happiness of the young couple.
Silent tears bedewed 3laud's cheek as
her native Glenthorn faded in the tnysty
distaaoe,--.1 spot endeared to her by -all
sweet associations, and hallowed remem
brances.
About noon on the following day, their
bumble conveyance stoppo.l at a private
entranoe to the ca tlo. William told
1 mil that as the young lord and his bride
were not expected to arrive uniil the at.-
torni»n, and for whole reception grand
preparations wore going on in the village,
he w iuld show her through the castle
and grounds. She accepted his invita
tion with pleasure. They entered the
demesne; there, reposing beneath the
shade of stately oaks, they saw the finest
deer in all England.—Llng did the dc:'-
lighted Maud linger in the beautiful gar
dens, whore she said she should never
tiro or walking,. J len _rth they entered
the eastle—:nore pleased than ever, each
.nipment Maud saw something new to ad
mire in the elegtnee and luxury that sur
rounded het: They had now entered the
gtllery were hung the portraits of bygone
genera ions.
" Here [ shall pass many a pleasant
hour," said William, " restoring the old
family portraits. You see around you,
Maud; the works of such misters as Hol
bein and Vandyke."
She inquired for the portrait of his-no
ble patron, the young Lord B—. It
had been taken down, he said, until that
of his lovely bride should hang beside it.
"Oh, William I" exclaimed Maud, "how
happy she must be as the mistres of this
delightful place."
"Is happiness dependent on wealth ?"
asked William, kissing the white brow of
his young bride.
Maud turned her sweet eyes upon:him,
eloquent with love, as she replied that
she was happier that moment than if she
was the wife of the wealthiest noble in
the land.
William drew her close to him, and
leaving the gallery, he led her down . the
grand stair.case . Entering the stately
hall, the next moment Maud stood in the
midst of a brilliant assembly composed of
the beauty and wealth of the surround
ing neighborhood. All eyes were upon
her. Blushing and confused, in a low
voice she entreated her husbaad to takO
her from a place whore she was regarded
as an hUmble intruder.
" Maud," said ho, " this castle is yours.
A love of adventure prompted mo to
adopt the disguise of a painter. Destiny,
or rather my good angel, led me to Glen
thorn. Maud, [ am the Lord B—"
Lie had taken her by the hand to pre
sent her to his relatives and friends-. but
she fainted in his arms, overcome by the
suddenness of the disclosure.
When Maud recovered, she found her
self in a beautiful apartment, hor allEioll9
parents hangiis-over--the:coachi : and - her
husband re7ardtn7 them . with moistened
oyes. •
Blest in the presence of her
'of
ones, Maud heard from the lips of Tier
mother the sweet explanation of events,
which still seemed to her but the illusion.
of a dream, '
On'the evening when she had parted
from her parents under such sad eironm
stances Reuben had ticarcely entered' OA
- -
$ll. 50 per annum In advance
(..00 If not paid in advance
cottage with his insensible Mary in hie
arms, when Charles called, elated ~:with
the hope of meeting with a fond recep
tion from his bride of the morrow. A
glance at the scene befoie him, a f ew in
articulate words from the wretched father,
revealed all, and grasping the old man's
hand sympathetically, he rushed from the
house.—Two days passed drearily over
them. Reuben and Mary sat by their
lonely hearthstone, the mother pleading
for her child; and while the heart of the
father yearned in secret for his absent
darling, William appeared at the open
door. Reuben rose, and and Mary sat
breathless, fearing the result; but tears,
Owe 't, refreshing tears, the first she had
shed since she last beheld Maud, gushed
from her eyes when the old man extended
a welcoming hand to his son-in-law.
The parents were almost as overpow
ered as Maud was herself, when William
made known the secret of his rank. That
evening they accompanied him to B—•
to welcome the bride on her arrival.
Three years afterwards Charles Frost
wedded the fair girl who was to have
been Maud's bridesmaid ; and it was the
boalst of Mr. and. Mrs. Frost that their
oldest darling was named after the bright
est ornament of her majesty's court—
Maud, the Beauty of Glenthorn.
A 'QUEER HISTORY
At the head' of a file of men on their
way from New York to Washington, thro'
this city, we yesterday encountered a man
who has probably seen as much of real
life as any other person living, Louis Na
poleon alone excepted. Captain 8., ten
years ago, was a log cutter or wood chop
per in the Clearfield pineries, working in
the employment of ex-Governor Bigler.
He lived in a cabin entirely alone, miles
away from any settler, and where the si
lence of the forest was broken by no other
sounds than the strokes of his axe orthe
baying of his dog when upon the track of
a deer. He was bitten, one day in mid
summer, by a monstrous rattlesnake, but
never losing his presence of mind, ho dug
out the wound with his hunting knife,
and pounding into powder his blackened
tobacco pipe he moistened it with
,saliva
and bound it upon the wound. The poi
son was drawn to the surface by this ap
plication, and exceptin , a a rigidity of limb,
which still remains, he experienced no
further ill effects from the deadly bite.
On one of his few visits to the town of
Clearfield, for a supply of tobacco and
whisky, he chanced to save from drowning
the child of a wealthy citizen, who re•
warded him by a present of three hundred
dollars. The man never returned to his
cabin, but receiving the wars due to him
he set out for Philadelphia, where he en
gaged-a teacher, and in a brief period
taught himself to read. He was preach
ing shortly after this, but finding himself
pursuing a ._istaken vocation, he bless
eme I out a cancer doctor, in which capac
ity he traveled over the south and west,
returning to New York with about three
thousand dollars. He married a wealthy
widow in New York, who died a month
after her marriage, leaving him heir to
every dollar. He made a second venture
six months afterward, his wife eloping at
the end of the honeymoon with a native
of Hamburg returning with a pile to his
own city. Disgusted with the sex, he
eschewed women's society, and went to
speculating in patent rights, and with a
sort of success that in a year cleaned him
out of the last dollar. He secured a po
sition upon the police force of New York,
and in the course of his duty came upon a
discharged convict. The convict gave
him certain information, the truth of
which he could not doubt. A 'heavy rob
bery had been committed on the conti
nent. The convict had been engaged iu
it, and knew where the plunder was still
secreted. The rover parchased the secret
from the fellow, went to Europe, disclosed
it to the authorities, and was made the
possessor of a reward amounting to about
$3,000. With this money he returned
to New York, and then to Philadelphia.
At the Girard House, one night, he mot
a Texan, who won from him four thous-
and dollars at a single 'sitting. The soci
ety of the gambler charmed him, and he
went with him to Galveston, taking the
remainder of his capital with him. He
went upon a ranche, and was engaged in
sheep grazing, with Hon. Amos Kendall
as a near neighbor. - S3eession broke out
at last, and our rover was compelled to
fly by night to Galveston, where he got
upon a vessel bound for Cuba without any
other possessions than the clothes upon
his person. lie was twice wrecked in re
turning to Now York, whore he arrived a
mere bundle of skin and bones. After
alternate wealth and poverty, starvation
and luxuriousness, nakedness and dandy
ism, he at length turns up as an officer in
a military company, asking only to give
his life for•tlie cause of liberty— Ile leaves
in Texas a fine rancho. His sheep, ho
supposes, have long since been confiscated
to feed the rebel a: my. For his real es
tate. he has no fears. Its confiscation,
when United States laws return in force,
will bo. a mere form, and that United
States laws will again be enforced in Tex
as, as well as in Seceisia in general, he
firmly believes. Sach men as he are the
best possible soldiers. They not only
avenge the wrongs of the North, but are
fighting for their own property. The.
more we have'of them the better.--Phil
adelphia North American.
sferA 'fast' man undertook the task of
teasing .an eccentric preacher. 'Do you
belidve' he ••said, 'in the story of the Prodigal
Son and the • fatted calf?' Yes said the
preacher: 'Well, then,
was it a male or a
female- calf that was killed?' ''A female,'
promptly replied—the—divine. - do
you know that?' Because (lookitfg the_
interrogator in the face) I see the • male is
now alive.'
tkir'Anambo, an African prince . , visiting
England, received so many 'attention's from
a celebrated belle. - tif London; that; a
moment of tenderness, he could not rftfrain :
fr o m laying his hand upon his heart. Ana'
exclaiming, 'Oh madame, .if Heaven had ,
onlF - Made you, a nagrem you *Mild-have"
been iiresistable rr • , _
NO. 44.