TERMS OF PUBLICATION. 1 Square 1 Insertion 76 eta. 1w 2 21.25. . , 1 ‘. 3 " 2140 For every additional Insertion,, 9.6ets. Advertisements containing more than one square, $1 per square for three Insertions. Estate Notices. $2OO. Auditors 2.00. Professional cards without paper, 6.00 Mercantile advertisements per annum 16.00 Local notices, 10 eta p.r line. JOB PRINTING.—Our Job Printing Office IN the ergest mid most complete, establishment In the Cows y. Four good Proxies, and a general variety of iceiterltt nutted for plain and Fancy work of every Istud, angles as to do Job Printing at the ehorteet notice, and on the most reasonable terms. Persons n want of Bills, Blanks, or anything In the Jobbing line, Will and It to their Interest to give us a call. peal foftninatio. U. S. GOVERNMENT Preddent—ADßLnAa LINCOLN, Viso Preadent—BANNlDAL HAMLIN, Secretary of Stitte—Wen. 11. SEWARD, fleoretory of Interior—Pio. P. Dom. Secretary of Treasury—Wm. P. FtfentlDEN, ecretary of War—lioerm M. STANTON, Secretary of Navy—Otonorr Weta.ne, Pont Monter GetieraI—MONTOOMERT BLAIR, Attorney derteral—EDWAßD BASES, SA' IliefJ make of the United S otos—Roos:a B TANEY' STATE GOVERNMENT overnor —ANDREW G. Seere•ary of btato—ELl SLIPX/t, Surveyor General—.lmara Auditor General—lsaac Swam, Attorney General—Wu. M. litbaborro. Adjutant Goooral—a RUBIIRLL, Slate Treasurer—HENßY G. Moults. ChiefJu,tie of the Supreme Court—Ozo. W.Woon *Lan COUNTY OFFICERS. President Judge—Eon. James 11. Graham. Airsociate Judges—Hon. Michael Cocklin, lieu hugh Stuart. District Attorney—J. W. D. GlDelon. prothonotary—Samuel Shireman. Clerk and Recorder—Ephraim Commen t Register—Coo W. North. High Sheriff—J. Thompson tippey. County Treasurer—Henry S. Ritter. Coroner —David Smith County Commissioners—Michael Hatt, John AI Coy, Mitchell McClellan, Superintendent of Poor llouse—lfonry Snyder. Physician to jail—Dr. W. W. Dale. Physician to Poor House—Dr. W. W. Dale. BOROUGH OFFICERS Chief Burgess—Andrew D. Ziegler. Assistant Durgess—Jobort Allison. Town Couuml—East Ward—J. D. Rhinebeart, YOshfik P - Di let, J. W. D. Gilfelon, George Wetzel West Ward—Geo. le Murray. hoe. Paxton, A. Cath. cart, Juo. D. Parker, Juo. D. Gorge's, President, of Council, A. Cathcart, Clerk, Jon. W. Ogilby. ILlgh Constable Samuel Sipe. Ward Constable, Andrew Martin. Aeseemor- •Job u Gutehall. Assists t A eseseore, Jno Hell, Geo. S. Beetem. Auditor—Robert D. Cameron. . _ Tax Collector—Alfred Ithineheart. Ward Collec tors—East Ward, Chas. A. Smith. West Ward, Tneo. Cornmsa, Street Commissioner, Worley B. Matthews, Justices of the Peace—A. L. Spoliator, David Smith. Abrio. Dohuif, Michael Holcomb. B. Meek, James Spangler 0 CHURCHES First Presbyterian Churcb,Northwest angle ofCen tre Square. Rev. Conway P. Wing Pastor.--Sery tees every Sunday Morning at 11 o'clock, A. M., and 7 o'clock P. M. • • . . Second Presbyterian Church, corner of South Hon- over and Pomfret streets. Rev. John C Bliss, Pastor. Services commence at 11 o'clock, A. M., and 7 o'cmck P. M. St.. John's Church, (Prot. Episcopal) northeast angle of Centre Square. itev..Y C Clerc, Rector. Services at tL o'clock A. M., and 6 o'clock. P M. . . English Lutheran Church, Bedford, between Main and Louther streets. Rev. J.r•ob Fry, Pastor. Ser— 'ices at 11 o'clock A. M., and 133, c'clock P. M. German Reformed Church. Louther, between Man. over and Pitt streets. Rev. 811133116 i Philips, Pastor. Services at 11 o'clock A. M., and B o'clock P. M. Methodist E. Church (first charge) corner of Main and Pitt Streets. Rev. Thomas 11. Sherlock, Pastor. Services et 11 o'clock A. M., and 7. o'clock P.M. Methodist E. Church (second charge,) Bev. B. L. BOMMIZI, Pastor. Sery ices In Emory M. E. Church at 11 o'clock A. M., and 334 P. M. Church of God, South West corner of West street and Chapel Alloy. tier. B. F. Beck, Pastor. St. Patrick's Catholic Church, Pomfret near East st. Rev Pastor. Services every other Sab- bath. ►t 10 o'clock. Vespers at 3P. M. German Lutheran Church, corner of Pomfret and Bedford streets. Rev. C. Frits°, Pastor. Bert ices at 11 o'clock P. 111. Vl..When changes in the above are necessary the proper parsons are requested to notify us. DICKINSON COLLEGE ROT. Ilorman M. Johnson, D. D., President and Pro lessor of Moral Science. • • • • - William C. Wilson, A. M., Professor of Natural Science and Curator o. the Museum. Rev. Wllllam L. Doswell, A. M., Professor of the Greek and German Languages. Samuel D. Hillman, A. M., Profe eor of Mathemat ics. John K. Staymitl, A. M., Professor of the Latin and Trench Languages. Hon. Jamoa H. Graham, LL. D Professor of Law. Rev. Henry 0. Cheston, A. D . Principal of the Grammar School. John Hood, Assistant in the Grammar School. BOARD OF SCHOOL DIRECTORS Jame■ clamEton, President, ❑. Saxton, P. Quigley, A. Cornuin, C. P Humerlch, IL C. Woodward, Jason W, Eby, Treasurer, John Sphar, Messenger. Meet on the Ist Monday of each Mouth at 8 o'clock A. M., .at Education Hall. CORPORATIONS CYRLIELL DEPOSIT BANK.—Provident, R. M. lloEldor. son, W. M. linetum Cash. J. P. Hassler and 0. D. Ptahler Tellers, W. 11. !'fabler. Clerk, Jno. Underwood Mes senger. Directors, It. M. Henderson, President, It. C. Woodward, Skilee Woodburn, Moms Bricker, John Zug, W.W. Dale, John D. Gorges, Joseph J. Logan, Jno. Stuart, Jr. FIRST NATIONAL Barre.--President, Samuel Hepburn Ca , bier. Joe. 0. ilelrer ' Teller, Abner C. Brindle, Mes senger, Jeeso Brown. Wm. tier, John Dunlap, itichM Woods,John C. Dunlap, isaao Brenneman, John S. terret, Semi. Hepburn, Directors. GONDERLAND VALLEY RAILROAD COMPANY.—Presidont, Frederick Watts: Secretary and Treasurer, Edward M. Diddle: Superintendent, 0. N. Lull. Passenger trains three times a day. Carlisle Accommo ation, Eastward, leaves Carlisle 5.65 A. M., arriving at Car- Bile P. M. Through trains Eastward, 10.10 A, M. mud 2.42, P. M. Westward at 9.27, A. M., and 2.56 P. Contour. Ebta AND Wot an CoMPANY.— President, Lem uel Todd; Treasurer, A. L. Sporoder ; Superintendent George Who: Directors, F. Watts, Wm. M. Beetem, ){. M. Biddle, Henry Saxton. It. 0. Woodward, John LI. Britton, F. Lindner, and John Campbell. SOCIETIES Cumberland Star Lodge No. 197, A. F. M. meets at Marlon Hall on the 2nd and 4th Tueedays of every, month. . . St. John's Lodge No. 260 1. Y. M. Meets 9d Thorn day of each month, at Marion Hall. Carlisle Lodge No. 91 I. 0. of 0. F. Meets Monday evening, at Trout's building. FIRE COMPANIES, The Union Fire Company wan organized In 1180.- 7iouse In Louther, between Pitt and Hanover. The Cumberland Fire Company wee Instituted Peb. 18, 1809. House in Bedford, between' Alain. acid Pore. feat. The Good Will Fire Company was instituted in Hareli, 1855. House in Pomfret, near Hanover. The Empire Hook and Ladder Company was inetitu• 4ed In 1859. Home in Pitt, near Hain. RATES OF POSTAGE Postage on all letters of one half ounce ;weight or nnder, 3 cents prepaid. Postage on the I.IERALD within the County, free. Within the State 13 cents per annum. To any part of the United States, 20 cents Postage on all tran• Merit papers, 2 cents par ounce. Advertised lettere to be charged with cost of advertising• 5,000 YARDS flood Dark Calico Just Received ,AT GREENFIELD & ,SHEAFER' S, • East Main Street, South Side. d poor, Rd Door, 94 Door. Good Dark Print', ~ 18b" Getter, —__Xatra,," , 22 doper E x t ra, do., 25 Bleached Muslims at 20, 25, 30, 85, and 40 tents. Unbleached, from 20 to 40 cents. . --Summer Pantsatuffs, at last year's prices, having purchased our stook of Summer Paste stuffs last Fall we eats and will sell them from 10 to 15 cents a yard ~clasper than any house In town. Remember the place. m' OBBENFIELD a 811BAVElt, Opposite U. S. Bitter's. T TfiL PARIS MANTILLA. EM PORIUM. No., 920 Clleetnut BC, Philadelphia. OPENarlieldade • MANTILLAS and CLOAKS. Abio, SPRING andSUMMER GARMENTS,. of our .° awn Manufacture, of the Latest Styles and In great warloty. _ PROCTOR & Co,, . . The.Parls Mantilla gmporluin, . 920 CHESTNUT Street. , PHILADELPHIA. United States - 6 percent 10-40 Loan are We prepared to furriish the 10-40 4 V V United States Loan authorized by the act of March Bd, 1884 bither Registered or Coupon Gonda ? as parties. may vete • in denominations of $5O, $lOO, $ 00„, si,ooo, $5,000, and.slo,ooo. The interest on the $5O, and WO, Bondsis payable ' annually and all other denominations semiannually . areoln. The Bonds w date Marsh 14,1884 ill redeemable at the pleasure of the Government and af ter 10 years and' payable 40 years from ; date in Ma with Interest at 5 percent per annum. • . • W. 51:11GETESI, Camillo% Carllale Detain Bankis.pril 20th, 1864 i •- - „ .. . . . . . .... . . . . . . .•. , . . _ . , . . 461 . . . ThL . , .. . . . . . . . , r . . . , I , .... , . VOL. 64. RHEEN & WEAKLEY. Editors & Proprietors. Veflint THE BLUE COAT OF THE SOLDIER. (The following ballad is from the pen of Bishop Bur gee, of Maine, and was contributed by him to the book publisher and sold at the late Sanitary Fair In Balti more, under the sanction of the State Fair Association Of the women of Maryland:] You asked roe, little one, why I bowed, Though never I passed the man before? Because my heart was full and proud ' When I saw the old blue coat ho wore: The blue greatcoat, the elk) , blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore. I knew not, I, what weapon he chose, Whet chief he followed, whet badge ho wore Enough that In the front of foes Ills country's blue great-coat ho wore : The blue groat coat, &c. Perhaps be wax born In a forest hot, Nampa he had danced on a palace floor; To want or wealth my eyes ware shut, I only marked the coat be wine, The blue great coat, kc. It mattered not much If ho drew hie line From Shorn or ilam, In the days of yore For suroly he was a brother of mine, Who for roy sake the war-coat wore! The blue great-coat, &c. He might have no eklll to read or writ°, Or be might he rich in learned lore; But I knew he could make hie mark In fight— And nobler gown no scholar wore Than the blue great-coat. &c. It may bo be could plunder and prowl, And perhaps In his mood be scotßd and swore But I would not guess a.spot so fetal On the honored coat he bravely witta; The blue greet-cost, he. He hkd worn It long, and borne It far; And perhaps on the red Virginian shore From midnight chill till the morning star That worn great-coat the sentry wore; The blue great-coat, &a. When hardy Butler reined hie eteed Through the streeta of proud, proudlialtimore Perhaps behind him, at his need, Marched ho who yonder blue coat wore : The blue great-coat, &c. Perhaps It was seen In Burns Wee ranks, When Rappahannock ran dark with gore: Perhaps nn the mountein side with Banks In the burning sun no more be wore The blue great coat, Perhaps in the swamps was a had for his form, Ftom the seven days' battling and marching Sore Or with Kearney and Pope' mid the steely dorm, An the night closed in, thateont he arm, The blue groat-coat,.dc. Or when right over, as Jackson dashed, That collar or cape some bullet tore: Or when far ahead Antietam flashed, It. flung to the ground the cost that he wore; The blue griiat.coat, &c. Or stood at Gettysburg, where the graves Rang deep to Howard's cannon mar: Or saw with Grant the unchained wares Where conqueringhosts the blue coat wore ; The blue great-coat, &r. That garb of honor tells enough, Though I Ito Moll , guess no more; The heart it cowers is made of guch stuff, That coat Is mail which that soldier wore; The blue greatcoat, &c. He may hang tt up when peace shall come, And the moths may flud It behind the door; But his ehlbtassu will point when they hear a drum, To the proud old coat their farther wore; The blue greatcoat, Sc. And so, my child, will you and I. For whose fair home their blood they pour, Still haw the bond, no one goes by Who wears the cost that soldier wore ; The blue great coat, the sky blue coat, The old blue coat the soldier wore. Prom Blachwood's Edinburg MagasJun. WITCH-HAMPTON HALL Fivo Scenes in the Life of its Last Lady (CONTINUED.) SCENE 111 Lady Ana sits in the window of her great drawing-room on an April evening. Six years and half another lie between her and that September night, and Lady Ana is now but five and twenty, and this is the evening of her birthday. The lines her face takes in repose make her look older than her years; they are those of habitual weariness—her expres sion is one of subjection to fate rather than of submission; the expression of a slave rather than of aservant. Yet there is a something over all the face that re deems it from sullenness. In the droop of the soft-fringed lids over the beauti ful eyes there is a pathetic mournfulness. But at times they rise suddenly and let fly forth strange glances of passionate remorse and despair, of impassioned ap peal, that aro as glimpses of a soul well nigh "crazed with waste life and unavail ing days" in the present, with wild and evil memories of the past, with the blank hopelessness of the future. This April evening Lady, Ana's face mirrors somewhat of the spirit of what she looks upon. . It is the time of year when Witch kampton Hall is fairest, the desolation of winter being clothed with beauty, but the place not yet choked up with the too rank luxuriance of summer vegeta tion, The trees, which grow too thick and too near the house, are only , just faintly smiling into spring verdure; the copses all abmit are just beginningto lint ter myriads of leafy. wings above starry beds of primroses and hazy mists of hya cinths. Glory of glories—though its most gol den glory is, now beginning to fade—far off, beyond the Pine Avenue and the wood, in the open expanse of the valley, is spread the - .field of the cloth-of-gold (a Countless host'of daffodils), changing eheenin eaoh changing light, each breeze seeming teripple up some deeper depth of glory: Lady Ana, 'watches the fading off of the last, sunlight as the sun sinks behind the wooded hill. She is listiming to the spring-beauty of the,world—eitting.lone lrand lovely, and lookingl-dolim?- • , , upon such, loveliness Stranger wthiderings wander 'through „ her soul. She feels Vaguely as if' Love spoke te her from all this beairty upoa which she alone lOoks —that Irifinife -LOTe• WhiCh alone can pour out beauty thus, without measure and without stint. She feels for a few moments as if the great Love, loving the world with spring, included her in its loving—not only included her, singled her out. Then suddenly she thinks, "Where then was this love when a blight was suffered to fall on all my life? How had I sinned so much beyond others that on me fell such black and hateful sorrow? If He is love—loving as a father; if He is strength—strong to omnipotence; what had I done that He let my orphan weak ness cry out in vain?—that He turned His face aside, Withheld His arm, and suffered the wicked to triumph?" She had been ungoverned and ungov ernable, and gloried in freedom, had re jected counsel, had been wild and reck less. But in that fatal, final, and false recklessness which had ruined her, she had been actuated by something better than mere wilfulness—there had been a wild generosity of motive. She had meant, being false to herself, to be true to those she loved. Was there need she should be so sternly taught that truth cannot come out of falsehood—that evil must not be done that good may come? If this is to be the lesson of her life, the hardest text of it is yet to be learned. "Is it then," murmured Lady Ana, "that the Lord our God is a jealous God, and that ruin falls on those who would set their will above His, or who dare to think they can help out His will?" Is Lady Ana most of a heathen, a Jew ess, or a Christian? As yet her inward life is a strange medley. As she thinks of the past, her hands involuntarily clench themselves in hate, and her features grow haggard, fierce even to ugliness. All the fair serenity passes from her face, for she no longer looks on what is fair and calm, but within on what is foul and tur bid. "Why such foul thoughts on so fair an evening?" she cried, rising suddenly, She walked to and fro in the room, seek ing to escape them. This great room has somewhat of a gaunt and hungry look; so large, so bare—no books, no mu sic, no flowers, no feminine odds and ends of ornament and furniture. As re gards-essentials, it is much as it has al ways been through all the years of the lives of the two orphan and desolate girls who had grown up at the Hall. But somehow, since Emma -had gone away, it had always seemed to Lady Ana quite different. Lady Ana returns to the window, opens one of the casements, and, leaning out into the coloured twilight, listens to the singing of full-throated birds; and, as she listens, her heart grows over-full, her throat fills, her eyes fill—great tears go splashing down on to the stones be neath. Suddenly she clears heir eyes dashing the tears from them, breathes forth the anguish from her throat, and fills it full of music. Emulous of the birds perhaps, she, leaning forth into the holy evening, breaks into a wild, rich flood of passion-fed, untutored song' that goes ringing down the valley, filling it from hill to hill. What she sung was a wild old Welsh melody to which her heart set words, and her voice rang out so crystal clear that it hardly sounded like mortal singing of mortal melody, but rather like some spirit-singing, be ginning you knew not when, coming from you knew not where, no more likely to end at one time than another. It might have had for a text the plaint of sad Is ifole:— "Laaclolla qutva gravida a soletta." Irregular and wild, it echoing played with some such words as these:— ' For thee, oh Dever more, le this world falr 1 For thee, oh never more, is th le world hind I I hoar my eon tone° ahriesed out by the wind, Ficrn the black pines that mock my dull despair Never morel' Never more? Ab, God, on young! And no warmth left for me In eun end 'bine I The goblet broken as I lipped the wine, And I left desolate, desert, undone I" Something after such fashion sang La. dy Ana, leaning her fair head on the. stone-work of the casement, looking forth with white fair face and bright disord ered hair over darkening wood and val ley, holdinaber small hands folded Upon her breast. After a time her Zinging lost its full toned wildness, and became more of a murmuring plaint, loss of a lament than of an appeal,'and the 'Sehnsucht nach der Miebo' which aria its soul was not wholly vague. - When, by-and-by, at some little noise in the room ; she turned,_.still_ singing, she met the gaze of a pair of eyes that had not been far from her thoughts—hor nneanacioas,.beart-thoughts. nor voice died away, and she listened to a dearer voice as her hand was taken and held a moment. “I stood below at the avenue-gate in the black shadow, and listened till a vague, superstitious fear trembled through me, and I almost doubted if it were the earthly singing of a mortal maiden. A few hours since I was treading the mud and mire of &crowded city, and was shoul der to . shoulder with its 'squalid misery. The, change is 'bewildering. Your sing ing was just the crowning enchantment of your enchanted valley.” She smiled sweetly into the gravely -loving face. "You see I am just as frSe here as the birds, and suppose Ism almost as yrild. From mornitig thrashing, from the be. CARLISLE, PA., FRIDAY' AUGUST IT, 1864. ginning of the week's end, I am alone. I am quiet and free to please myself things—to sing or keep silent—and this evening the singing mood was on me." Sho sat down where she bad sat before she began to sing. A faint flush had slowly crept over her face. " You have quite lately seen my sister and Sir Lionel,?' she asked, as she point ed out a seat to him with the unconsci ously queenly manner she had sometimes. " I stayed with them a few days, leav ing them only last evening. lam heavi ly charged with loving messages; they have not forgotten what day this is. Let me add my earnest wishes that your life may be blessed and crowned with all that Infinite Love holds to be best for you—" " Thank you—oh, I thank you," she breathed out—looked 'as it she would have said more, but paused. "They are well ?" she asked abi aptly. " Well—and happy as few people know how to be." " Thank God I" said Lady Ana, softly, and a sweet peacefulness overspread her face. "Have you ever seen a woman as lovely as my Emma ?" she asked. "I have seen one woman who at times looks as lovely, but not always." " Do you mean me ?" asked Lady Ana, the hot blook mantling over her fare. "Yes," he answered, with a grave smile. She remained silent and thoughtful, grew very pale, and shuddered. Pres ently she said—and there was the soft est witchery of sweet unconscious appeal in her poor face—"l might, perhaps, have been as lovely if, when I was as young, I had been as much loved. Yet I think not oven then, for she was al ways good ; from the very earliest I can remember the gentlest sweet creature al ways." " You aro cold," he said, noticing how again she shuddered, and he rose to shut the window. He stood some moments looking out, then he asked, "Have I your permission to pass an hour or two with you, Lady Ana ? There is much I want to say to you." She shrank into herselfand grew paler as she answered that she should be very pleased. She had light brought, the fro made up, the tea prepared. And she, wholly unconscious ofconventional usages, served her guests, loving to serve, and showing that she did so. He suffered this, to to the Coic of his heart with her sort wo manly simple grace, and much marvel ling how this fair girl had gained her character for wild recklessness—for her character remained to her, though her life was now altered. Lady Ana's guest had never beforo been her guest, save for the brief quar ter of an hour of an occasional call: but often she had looked up into his face with calm, unflinehingatteution, often he had looked down into hers with growing interest and pity; often, too, had she heard him spoken of with love and ven eration by those she loved; often had he heard her spoken of with a loving pathos of compassion. Ho was a near friend and distant relative of Sir Lionel's, and now he was the rector, just a year ago appointed, of the little grey ohurch look ing into the river. He thought he knew all the story of Lady Ana's life—know ittg how she, as well as the gentle Emma, had loved Sir Lionel. The hours went by,strangely swift and sweet to Lady Ann. She sat a little in the shadow, and the full blaze of the wood-fire, which paled the light of .the faint-burning lamp, fell on the face of her guest, whose eyes, wonderfully calm in their brilliance, often sought hers. He spoke to her as no one in her life had ever spoken to her, with such a min gling of tender deference and authority ; and at his words there opened out before her vistas of new life that should nomoro be waste and aimless. But when ho ceased to speak, the memory of the past rushed back, and all the high hope he had awakened died out again as that tide of bitterness surged up and filled her soul. She said, "If, ten years ago, when I could have listened to you sometimes, then I might now indeed be like Emma, as lovely and as happy—fit for such a beautiful life as you fancy I might lead.; but, as it is, it is not I who can help Ot hers to be happy, good and purer' -‘ 4 When -you- wore youtig,"lii':achoed, with a smile.. " I am not old now, I know," she said. "Oh, how I sometimes wish I were old, that there might not lie before me sucks, dreary waste of yeara—old, and with all my senses dulled, that I should not have such power to suffer! I ani not old io years,- but ray . heart, - soniehow, is very old." . He 118U:flied with a addle so tenderly incredulous, dm did not wish that he should believe her. He bad a face, she thought, that somehowseemed all love-L. to love all it looked upon with all itself; not with eyes only, or with - eyes and mouth, but with every line and' light and shadow; withal, it Was a face Unmistak ably Manly, full of power—tho Power. of le rose presently. "You will 'have a lovely she said rlthe moon is' up: Lt ''ii a lonely valley, and then up the bill and doWn the long lane where the owls hoot ?" "Your lonely valley is indeed lonely.— ]often think of its loneliness. In the winter—at the time of those terrible storms—l used sometimes to be driven to leave my fireside and come out here, just ta walk round your house and see if all looked as usual. Once or twice I was im pelled to do this at night, and then the Wild isolation of your ppaition smote me with a heart-paining blow." "You came out here in storms and at night to watch over me I How good of you l" Her eyes, filling with tears, were more eloquent DtAn her poor words. "Not good at Irei. he answered quick• ly, "for I could not help it! It was for my ease. lam fast-learning, Lady Ana, to be uneasy always when I am not near you —for I love you.'' "You—love—we!" she faltered "Is it so strange ? Having seen your sweet, fair fax) shining below me, star bright, in my little dusky church sooften? Having beard your sweet, fair name so often named with love by lips I love ? Is it so str nee that I have learned to love you, and that'. long to give you a life less desolate and waste than thisyou lead now? Y,s this strange, my sweet lady ?" "Is it strange ?—quysweet, fair name.' •'4lll, heaven 1 you cannot think how strange: strange as music from heaven beard by one in bell." This she murmured, cowering back as much into the dusk as might be, and with her hands hiding her burning face. His words had awakened feelings that had been but lightl,. sleeping : her heart rose up and cried out within herthat she loved him. "It is so—strange as it may scorn to you, it is so! Has your heart any love to give me? Will you trust your loneliness to my love, your liberty to my law ? Will ,7ou be my wife ?" "Wife,"she whispered to herself. "His wife—happiness, love—love, happiness— for me! Tempted tempted, tempted—" Of the devil—and love is of God, and brings strength to resist the temptations of the devil: It brought her strength ; she tookler hands from before her poor, quiverineface ; she looked up into his face, and said, in a voice that strove to be firm— "I thank you from my heart. I love' you, from my heart. It is my love for ett makes mo able to be true. Loving ch, F would not, wrong you. I