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JOB PRINTIIiCi.—Oar Job printing Office is the
nr,gest, , and inset complete astaddishment in the
Dour'. y. Four good Presses, and a general variety of
material suited for plain and Fancy work of every
land, enables us to do Job Printing at the shortest
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"41 v,ml clinforarottivu.
U. S. GOVERNMENT
ProsWont—ABRAHAM LINCOLN,
Vico ProtiIdonT—IIANNICAL HAMAD,
Docrorary of STa tO—.WALLI. &YADIC,
tiovrotary of lutorloi—Jao. I'. DRUM,
eurotary or Treasury—Wm. P. FERRENDEN,
Mecrofary of War—EDWIN M. STANToN,
Secretary or Navy—OrDEON WELLER,
Peat Master Goneral—Moarnomtacv Ittara,
4.ttornoy Goaeral—EDWAßD DATER,
STATE GOVERNMENT
rlovernnY ANDREW . CURTIN,
Seerelary of ,E 3 —ELT SLIFER,
Surveyor 0 tiera AMER BARR,
4 editor General—lnkAr SI.EN K Ell,
A t tornny (]moral-14.e. NI. Mc RED I oil
Adjutant general—A L. Eno ELL ,
State Treasurer—llEN.Y 0. 3100110.
ChiefJubtle of the ;;upreme Court-000. W. WOOD
WARD.
COUNTY OFFICERS!!
President Judge—lion. James IT. graham.
Associate Judges—Lion. Michael Cocklin, lien
Q thigh Stuart.
District Attorney—J. W. D. 0111010 n.
Prothonotary—Samuel Sideman.
Clerk : a id Recorder—Ephraim Common,
Register—Ono W. North.
Tligh Sheriff—J. Thompson Ilippey.
County Treasurer—Henry S. Ritter.
Coroner —David Smith.
County Commissioners—Michael Kant, John M.
boy, Mitchell McClellan,
Superintendent of Poor House—Henry Snyder.
Physician to Jall—Dr. W. W. Dale.
Physician to Poor house—Dr. IV. IV. Dale.
BOROUGH OFFICERS
Ohief%urgess— And IT NV B. Ziegler.
Alieistant. littross—itobert Alllsorn
Town Coune Ward—.l. D. Ithinehoart,
Joshua r Bkier, J. W. D. WI/Is/en, 01.1Irgft Wetzel,
West Westi—lleo. 1., 3lurray,:lhos. Paatou,,A, Cath
cart, Juo. U. Parker, .17,0. D. President, of
Council, A. Cathcart, Clerk, J. 15. ugilhy.
High Con ,, tlble Samuel Sipe. Ward ConstaLlo,
Andrew Martin.
Assessor--John ❑utshnll: Assistant Assessors . , Jain.
M ell, lion.
M==2=l
Tax eallector—Alfrod Ithineheart. Ward Colloc
Lora—East Ward, Chas. A. :imith. Went Ward, Tow.
Corom,n, Street Commissioner, Worley D. Matthews,
Ju %tie, of t Peace-1.1, Spender, David 6mii
A brm. Dohult, limcomh,
Lamp Lighturs—Chas.B.!tiontj o. Jamos Spanglor
CHURCHES
FI r t Presbytorian Ch uroh, Northwest an cle oft'ou
tre 510131,. Ito, Conway P. 15 irig I'astur.--Serrucos
every Sunday Morning at.,l l n'cloek, A. M., and 7
o'elor k P. M.
!=oconil Proshytertau Church. corner of youth
OVer l' , lllfrUt tit) ROV. JI , IIII 0 01i,, Pastor.
itrviouN commence at 11 o'clock, A. Jt., anti 7 o'clock
I'. :11.
St. John's Church. I Pr.t, Episoepal northeast angle
r.r Centre Square. (I (leer, (teeter.. Survives
nt. 11. o'clock A. M., and 4 ; o'clock. M.
I,utt,rao Church, Bedford, botween 31rtirl
and Louth, Stn ROY. `Oh Fry, Pastor.. Se,
lire,: at 11 o'rlock A. and .0, r'elo , k P. M.
Oortnan Ito formed Church. Lontllc,r. ta.t.euit Ilan
nvor awl Pitt ntn.,./x. lion. Narita .1 Pastor
Sarvlcos at I t o'vlo,.k A 31., al/ ti ti ' Vlltt . l( P. 31.
'l , ,tllolllt Chnrrh (first c• 11..-4..) (~rtwr of !%Inln
and Pitt Str,ots. 11,1,1114,m, , 11. Slivrlol:,
SIOVICefi i NI., at,tl i o'elork 1' I.
Iletim.l,t H. ehur,h lt,. S. I,
Bowman, Pastor. Services in Emory E. (Mulch :II 1
o'clock A .11 . anti :4' P. M.
i,ott Chaitid. South \\ e 4 rd'.
and Chapol nov F flack, l'a,to
at 11 a. In.. and 0' 1, In.
t PAtrieti's Cat lodic i'h u ',h. Pomfret neer East st
Rev I•wft"r Son , it•eS every tit her Sal
I=
ospo•rs at 3 1 . . :%1
Gartnztu Luther:. Chill'i•h. vOl . ll, 811,1
Ittidtord sttnttos. nett C. rritzt•, l'actor. r•er‘lce, nt
11 o'clock P. M.
Alan e, in the above sro a OCOSSII ry thr
propur aid ro.lut....ted to 11.11. if; us.
DICKINSON COLLEGE
- ITer'n,nlf.:T6li - i1,4;i1, -- 11. Ir, and Pr,
cgs, or 11,,ral
Wllll4lll C. Wilson, A. M.. Prolossor of Natural
Sripii, mot 'il , ! • : 1L01 0 Lill,
Roy. Wllliant I. 1100w1•11, A M., Professor of the
Greek and tierinati I...togunges.
SAtnuel 1). Hitltnau, A. M., Prat) sor of Matheutat-
John K, Staym in, A.. 11., Professor of the Latin and
French Languor4es.
lion. James IL Ora ham, LL. D Professor of Law.
Rev. Henry C. Chestou, A. B . Principal of the
Grammar School.
John Hood, Ameletant In the Grammer School
BOARD OF SCHOOL DIRECTORS
E. Caruman, President, James ilamilton, 11. Saxton,
It. C.. Woodward, Henry .s.ownlinin, o.ll'. II Innerleb,
eact'y , .1. W. Eby, Treasurer. John Sohar,
Meet on the lot Dlonday each Month at 8 o'clock A.
M., at Education Hall.
CORPORATIONS
CVALISLE DEPOSIT BANs..—Pre.ddent, R. M. 'lender
eon, W. N. Beetann Cash J. I'. Hassler and C. 11.11,1111er
Toilet,. W. M. Pithier. Clerk, Jun. Underwood Mes
senger. Directors, It, M. Henderson, President, It. C.
Woodward, Sidles Woodburn. Moses Brinker, John
Zug, W. W. Dale, John D. Borges, Joseph J. Logan,
J no. Stuart, jr.
Piano NATI Mk!. BkNA.—Prusi,lollt, Snnntel Hepburn
Ca•hler. Jos. C Toiler, Abner C. Brindle, Mes
senger, Jesse Brown. Win. Kor, John Dunlap,
Woods, John C. Duni tip, Isaac Brenneman, John S.
Sterrett, Semi. Hepburn, Directors.
CI:SIBERIAN! , RAII.IO , AI , CoMPANT.—Prosldelit,
Frederick Watts: Secret or, and Treasurer, Edward
M. Biddle: Super in London t, O. N. Lull. Passenger
trains three Hums a day. Carlisle A econailo
Eastward, loaves Carlisle 5 55 A. M., arriving at Cat ,
Hilo 5.20 I'. M. Through trains Eastward, 10.10 A, M.
and 2.42, P. ➢I. Westward at 5.27, A. M., and 2.55 P.
M.
CARLISLE OAS AND WAlEll CoMPANY.—Prosident, Lem
uel Todd; Tronsurer, A. L. Spon«lor; Superintonden,
Goorio tP too : Directors, F. Watts, Win. 11. Doettant
E. M. Biddle, Henry Saxton. It. C. Woodward, J. W.
Patton, F. Uardnor and D. S, Croft.
SOCIETIES
Cumberland Star Lodgo No. 197, A. Y. meets at
?clarion Hall on the 2nd nod 4th Tuesdays of every
month.
- .
. .
St. John's Lodge No. 290 A. Y. M. Meets 3d Thurs.
day of each mouth, at Marion Hall.
Carlisle Lodge No. 91 I. 0 of 0. F. Meets Monday
evening., at 1 rout's building.
Lotort Lodge No. 63, 1. 0. of 0. T. Meets every
Thursday evening liberal's Ball, 3d story.
(1
FIRE COAI PAN IES.
rho (Triton Fire Company was organized in 1789.
House rn Louther, between Pitt and Hanover.
'rho Cumberland Fire Company was instituted Feb
18, 1809. House in flatiron', between Main and Porn
mat.
The flood Will Fire Company was instituted in
March, 185 d. house In Pninfrot, near Hanover.
The Empire Hook and Ladder Company was institu-
Sod in 185 U. house in Pitt, sear Main.
RATES OF POSTAGE
Postage on all letters of ono half ounce weight or
under, 3 cents pro paid.
Postage on the II lIRALD within the County, free.
Within the State 13 cents per annum. any part
of the United States, 2 , 3 cents Postage on all tram
Bleat papers, 2 pouts per ounce. Advertised letters to
be charged with cent of advertising.
MRS. R. A. SMITH'S
Photographs, Ambrotypes, lvorytypes
Beautiful Albums I Beautiful Frames!
Albums far Ladles and (lentlemen,
Albums ter Alissen, and for Children,
Pocket Albums for Soldiers and Civilians!
Choicest Alb l'reltiest Albums I Chestiest Alburtis!
FOR CHRISTMAS GIFTS I
Trash and New from Now York and Philadelphia
Markets.
•
IF you want satisfactory Pictures and
polite attention call at Mrs. R. A. Smith's Photo.
graphic Gallery, South East Corner of Hanover Street
and Market Square, opposite the Court House and Post
'Office, Carlisle, Pa.
Mrs. R. A. Smith well known as Mrs. It. A. Reynolds,
midge well known as a Diguerrean Artist, gives per
sonal attention to Ladies and Gentlemen visiting her:
anaery, andbavlng the best of Artists and polite at.
tOtidants can rudely promise that in no other Gallery .
can those who favor her with a call got 'pictures sups.'
Mr to hers, not even in-New York or vidiadelphia, er
meet.with more kind and Prbrept attention.
,Ambrotypes Inserted lee Rings, Lockets,Breast Pins,
ke. Perfect espies 'of Ihiguarrotypes and Ambrotypee
snide of deceased friends. Where Copies are defaced;
Hie-like pictures may still be had, either'for frames or
for cards. All negatives preserved one year And orders
by mall or otherw isepromptly attended to.
'December 23i 1864—tf
rl 'HE FORWARDING AND GRAIN:
bnelness formerly cOndinted by Line, Glvler &
09„ ie now;eurrlud on by .
July 20,,1864-tf
DR WM:- H.AOOB,
• I HOM.OEQPATHIC ' PHYSICIAN,
",__ Surgeon an4' Accouchow
()VFlCE, .at his residence' , Pitt
street, 1101 9 .11 4 tbo Methodist Church.
• •
TonACCo,
. nAurvorifs
ADIOS, .4.ti infinite variety of aixtu4
eftut ekitii inatiuotte4Gioncis at; Ifsivondlek'ts Drtig
putt Alloy OtOrq. A .
25 00
4 00
7 00
-----
Relieving Guard—March 4th, 1884
r•
Came the relief. `• What sentry, ho I
How passed the night through thy long waiting?"
"Cold, cheerless, dark—as may befit
The hours before the dawn is breaking.
No sight, no sound?" No; nothing nave—
no plover from the marshes calling;
And Bi yon Aves'ern sky, about
An hour ago, a Star woe falling."
" A star? There's nothing strange in that."
'• No, nothing: but, shove the thicket,
Somehow it .crewed to mu that God
SOI UV where had jni , t, relieved a picket."
SOMEBODY'S LUGGAGE
When that long "banquet scene" was
at an end, and the ladies left the room, I
found myself, by the retirement of old
Lady Salteith, next my hearty straight
forward manly friend Jack Fortescuc,
with whom I had already exchanged a
nod behind the old lady's back. I was
very glad to see him. We talked about
all sorts of things; and presently got up
on the sulject which had been occupy
ing me so much during dinner. I was
rather anxious, I must own, to lead to it,
having heard a rumor somewhere or oth
er that toy Iriend Jack himself was smit
ten with Miss Cr.tweour. 1 don't know
when I had heard - it, or *here. ThOse
things seem in some societies to circulate
in the air.
11E,L NC
To my surprise T found Forteseue very
uncommunicative about this twitter, and
,still more, to my wonder, I observed a
tendency in him rather favorable to this
match. Ile even sought to defend Lord
Sneyd against my attacks.
"Oh, he's not such a bad fellow," he
said, "when you come to know him. He's
aflectcd, you know, and pretends to be
wonderfully refined, and to be a petit
maitre, and all that, but he has his good
points. We fellows who are always shoot
ing, or fishing, or riding over stone dykes,
are apt to undervalue a man of quieter
tastes, and more sedentary pursuits.
Sneyd goes in, you know, for being a sort
of artist. By-the-by—talking of artists
—did you see that portrait of the duchess
in the Academy this year--wasn't it
good ?"
I saw that my friend wanted to get a
way from the subject, so of course I did
not attempt to pursue it. I was not en
lightened by any thing that occured in
the drawing-room after dinner. Miss
Crawcour and Fortescue hardly exchang
ed a dozen words, and Lord Sneyd was
in attendance upon the young haly through.
out the evening. In the smoking-room
afterward Lord Sneyd refused cigars, and
smoked some infernal perfumed composi
tion Out of a Hookah. Heaven -knows
what it was. Opium, perhaps? Nothing
wholesome I'll warrant.
It was on the day succeeding that of
my arrival at Creel that I sought the bil
liard-room, the usual refuge of the un
employed. I had remained at home that
morning, baying some letters to write and
other things to do in my cwn room. These
finished, I had still half an hour or more
on my bands before luncheon, so I thought
I would wend my way to the billiard
room. If I found any one to play with
so much the better. If not, I would
praotice difficult cannons for half an hour
or so, and in that way get through the
time.
Two peuplo were in the room. A gen
tleman and a lady. Jack Fortescue and
Miss Crawcour. They were standing to
gether at the further end of the 'table.
Both had cues in-,their hands, and the
balls, were-on the - board, but at' the mo
ment of my entrance they mere certainly
not playin - g. Miss Crawceur's back was
to the light, but a glance showed me be
yond wehadow of doubt that she had been
crying—was crying oven.' when I entered
the room. ,
. ,
What was I to do I , F,ortesoue was my
friend. The room . was publio,to every
body in the castle. If I retired;it would
be'a marked net,showing that I felt I had
interrupted sohae, sneee_whlobt did not re- -
quire witnesses.
JOHN °REASON,
' °reason, Currib: 010
' "Are . you having 'd game, or only prao,
tioing?" I said to Forteseue f therely to
break tha;awkwar4 •
rich, .its A game," he answerml,•m4,
ing ilgreat effort, but appakiog thou
in'hie proper' voice. "'Au cl it's my sti4Ao.
VOL. 65.
RHEEM & WEAKLEY, Editors & Proprietors
sloittiaL
COMFORT.
Art thou n lout one waging,
The bitter war of life,
While Bore temptations ragitig
More dreadful make the strife
Ohl hapless, bopelees lone one,
Turn, turn thine egos above,
To one who'll not abandon,
To one cf boundless love.
There's one who watches o'er thee,
While passing through the tire;
Tie bora it all before thee,
And sees thy heart's desire.
There's Ono, the Lord of glory,
Who knows thy feeble frame;
However sad the story,
Oh I "trust thou in his name.
He'll give the strength, thou weak one,
And take thee to his breast;
'He'll ho thine all, thou lone ono,
He gives the weary rest ;
And soon, life's struggles ending;
Will take thee to his hr me;
Then on his Jove depending,
r not, whaler may come.
`~i~s~~.~xll ~t`rs ~:~:i~lr~b
A l '/i.rist nc Snry hy Dickens
C 111 t 41tted
Look," ho said to me, quickly, "is that
cannon possible 7" and he made it almost
as he spoke. Two or three more follow
ed. Then a hazard. At last a bad shot,
and it was time for Miss Crawcour.
She came to her place at the table,
and made a violent effort to collect her
' self. I did not look at her, but pretend
ed to be absorbed in marking Fortescue's
score. I heard her cue strike the ball in
an uncertain way. There was no subse
quent sound indicating the contact of her
ball with one of the others. It was a
miss. The moment she had made it she
placed her cue against the wall, and say
ing something indistinctly about not be
ing able to play and about my finishing
the game instead of her left the billiard
rooM, closing the door after her.
As soon as she was gone Fortescue
came up to where I stood.
"After what you've seen," he said "it's
no use my attempting to make a secret of
what has been going on between Miss
Crawcour and myself."
"My dear Fortescue, I have no wish to
force myself on your confidence. What
I have Been can be forevdr as if I had not
seen it, if you wish it. You know 'that."
"No, no, I don't wish it," he answer
ed, quickly. "But come out side with me
for half a minute. •We can't talk here."
Out in the open air, the rooks cawing
about the tree-tops as their nests waved
to and fro in the wind, he spoke again,
as we lay on the grass.
"I dare say you have beard my name
and Miss Crawcour's spoken of together?
You have. I don't know what right any
one has had to talk about either of us.
However, that can't be helped.
Ile paused, and did not seem able to
go on.
"I hate speaking of things of this sort,"
he continued, after a moment, and in an
impatient tone ; "one's words sound like
words in a valentine or a trashy novel.
Well, it can't be helped. I love this girl,
Mary Crawcour. I would do any thing
for her."
"And yet you could sped: yesterday
about her marrying that, man Sneti•d.•'
"Volt were nut then in my emilid nee.
To the world 1 must seem to facer that
marriage. l ace pledgail to do so."
"fled red ! To whom ?"
"To the duchess."
")ly dear Fortescue, how, inileaven's
name, could you enter into so radii an en
gagement?"
"How? How could I do otherwise,
you mean ? You know my position. I
have two hundred a year and my pay.
Can I marry that girl, accustomed to the
life she is accustomed to, on- that ? Have
I a right to fetter her with along engage
ment, on the remote possibility of my be
coming possessed of rifbperty between
which and myself there are half a dozen
lives? Have I a right to stand in the
way of such a marriage as that with Sneyd?
What could I say when the duchess put
these questions to me ?"
Po you believe that Miss ('raweour
would be happy in such a marriage ?"
I don't klmw," answered Forteseue,
almost desperately. " I have seen such
misery come from poverty in married
" Depend on it," I answered, " it is
not the worst evil by many, many de
grees. "Forteseue," I continued, after
a moment's pause, "does Miss Craweour
love you ?"
" I think so," he said, speaking in a
low voice.
" Then depend on it you are doing
wrong. You are acting as you think
rightly, and with a great and noble self
denial. 13ut you are mistaken, cruelly,
terribly mistaken, if you have pledged
yourself to favor this match with Sneyd,
and to give up your own hold on that
young lady's love."
"latu pledged," Forteseud answered.
"To what?"
" To do riothing that is maculated to
hinder the marriage with Sneyd, and not
to press my own suit by word or deed
for a period of five years—by which
time, of course, all chance will be over."
And this was what you were telling
Miss Crawcour jUst now ?"
" Something of it. She foll Owed me
to the billiard-room. She seems desper
ate, reckless. She swears she will hot
have him. I entreated her to leave me
-you saw the rest."
I said, after a moment's pause, " The
conduct of the duchess surprises nie in
this thing, I own. She has such good
points, I know. She is kind-hearted,
hospitable—" .-
" Yes, she is all that," said Fortescue,
interrupting me, " but she is touched by
the world like every body else. Why,
you don't know what. p the notions of these
people are. The things that are neces
saries iof life to them—real necessaries of
life-L---require a fortune to provide them.
To a woman like the duchess the exist
ence which such means as mine imply
seems what the work-house or absolute
starvation . , ,appearc,:to you. When ,the
duchess - pnts OM. eaSo =O.O _me,. I toll
01 - 0 iim t3iMeehless.!' , ,
~ ..
f Fortesone," I said, after a long .si
t 36 ; ., ‘, l these things: being so, and this
rash and most miserable, pledge..:being
given, - what do yo 4 do More r' tv,-,-r '
"Igo to-morrow." , ,
44 11 avu you told Mies Orawcoutthut.r)
" No, I lAavg told 410 , one I ril,qap to
CARLISLE, PA., FRIDAY, JANUARY '27, 1865.
tell no one. When the party goes out
riding to-morrow morning I shall excuse
myself, and—and leave this place, most
likely forever. There is a row in India,
I hear; perhaps I shall get rid of my
life there. It's at any body's service."
Again there was a pause. I know
what that careless tone meant, and for a
tine I could not speak.
" Fortescue," I said at last, " I have
one more thing to ask. This Sneyd spo
ken yet?"
" No," answered my friend, riding to
lead the way to the house; " but he is
certain to do so to-day—or to-morrow."
That afternoon a party, of which For
tescne 4.nd I formed two, went out cov
er-shooting in the neighborhood. I nev
er saw my friend shoot so ill. Indeed
the poor fellow seemed entirely bewil
dered, and unfit for any thing. I think
he only joined the party to get, away
from the house.
Miss Craweour did not appear at din
ner.• She was suffering from a headache,
the duchess said, and preferred remain
ing in her room. Lord Sneyd professed
as much interest as would comport with
his languid manner. I could see in
Forteseue's face, carefully as he had
drilled it, how much he suffered addi
tionally at not spending this, his last
evening, in Miss Crawcour's society.
The next day came, and I was again'
prevented, by certain literary labors to
which I was obliged to devote myself,
from ping out in the early part of the
day. I spent the morning in my room,
which was situated in one of tie round
towers which flanked the entrance of
the castle, one on WWII side.
About half past eleven I heard the
voices of sumo of the men who were stay
ing in the castle. as they lounged about
the door, gossiping and talking. Soon
after I licalllthe clatter of liorz , es' poufs
iu this di,tanye. soon the ,-ante sound
accompanictl by the scattering of gravel.
tool the mare and " Steady
la n<c !" of the grooms.
1 I(.:,ked 4mt fr.on Lchiud 1i eur
train=: I am ttlway , very ea,,ily
from my work. The ri,iin g r a,.ty waS
all a , rrnihle 1. Three or four intm—
among them, ['or a wonkier. I,orkl
111 _had Ids. owitt_ lwriie, a mo-ly
tailed whit(' brute, that eo,t, I dare 5a . 5,,
a mint of inkdo , v, an:. that no limn worth
two-lime e w"uild Let arrnSS. TI R • 11 ,1 1 -
e-s :tit& Crawrour wert_ the ladies
of the party. The duke came to the
door to see them off. 110 was nut going
with them, having all sorts of things, to
arrange with that important lninister the
gainekeep t :r.
l'orteseue ?" sail 50111(3 ou(3.
" Oh, he's not geitn , this morning."
he duke answered. " Ile is writin let
ters." Ile was helping Visa Crawcour
into thesaddle as he spoke.. It may have
_teen the exertion of mounting, or iL may
Ind, but I could see that she blushed
limply.
I did not like the look of the animal
on which Miss Crawcour was mounted.
As far rs beauty went, certainly there
was nothing to codmplain of. A hand
somer inare I never eiw. But tlte move
ments of the cars were too incessant and
violent., and there was more white to the
eye shown than I like to see in cornice
tian with a riding-habit. The mare had
been difficult to hold while Miss Craw
coor was being lifted on, and now that
the young lady was fairly on the brute's
back it became exceedingly restive, al
most unmanageable.
" Are you afraid of her at all, Mary ?''
the duke asked, as he stood at the door;
" she seems unusually frisky this morn-
ES
" No, not in the least. She's always
like this at starting."
This was Miss Crawcour's answer, but
I thought she looked pale. Perhaps it
was the reaction after that blush I had
noticed. The duke spoke again. This
time to the head-groom.
" llns that mare been exercised this
fuming, Roberts ?"
The man hesitated just half a moment,
and looked at the mare.
" Yes, your grace," he said, touching
tis hat.
" You're sure, Mary," the duchess
said, " that you're not afraid? Do lot
them take her back and bring you an
other mount."
" Yes, yes, much better," added the
duke. ",R,oberts, send that snare back,
and saddle Robin Hood for Miss Oraw
cour."
" Beg your pardon, your grace, but
the'horse is in physic : he's not been
very well for a day or two."
" Well, then, the brOwn mare, or Bull
finch, or—n,
" No, no, no, no !" Miss Crawcour
called, from the saddle, " I like thin
mare best of all. Let her go," she said
to the groom who was holding the cursed,
bride's head. And 'cif she cantered; the
mare plunging and kiching.
(I. Really," paid Stioyd, with his -foot
i tho stirrup,' " Miss Crahroo.u'r ought :
not to be :allAnd• to ride that IfereeiouS
animal. —Can nObody_stop_herl," _.'
" You ride aftet.ber, Snoyd," said the
duke, smiling, "and :try 'if fyou t can't
bring her back.", Sncid::was in
410:84adle by this , ,time;inid eautofed 90' 1
at' h.-regular roc ing-hin'so
groom behind, him on a thorough-bred
This was the last I saw of the caval
cade. The duke retired immediately to
the gun-room, and I went back to my
writing-table, but I could not help feel
ing a certain sense of uneasiness, the
look of that mare not being at all to my
liking, and the manner of the groom
having left an impression on my mind
that the animal had not really been out
before that morning.
All the events of that day are very
fresh in my memory. The next to mine
was a boudoir. There was a piano in it,
and some one of the ladies of the party
was playing on it. I don't know what
she was playing, though I should recog
nize the air now in a moment if I heard
it. It was what is called a "piece," and
and had a wonderful plaintive beauty
about it. As the performer played it
many times over, I suppose she' was
learning it.
I went on writing, and what I wrote
seemed in a sort of way to be mixed up
with this tune. Presently 1 heard the
sound of wheels, and some light vehicle
drove up to the door. 1 went again to
the window. It was a dog-cart, driven
by ono of the duke's grooms, and it drove
up befbre the door. Some servants
brought out a portmanteau, some gun
cases, and other luggage, and placed
them in the vehicle. Almost ;it the same
moment my door opened, and Forteseue
entered the room. 1 never saw any
thing more dreadful the suppressed ag
ony in his face.
" Good-by, old fellow," he said, with
a miserable ;2.-hastly smile. " I'm off,
you see. Will you take charge of this
note Ciir the duchess? I've only just
time to catch the train."
Stay," I said ; " where can I write
t(i rotz
London, to-morrow. Art er that
Chatham. Good-liy again, dear old fel
iw, !"
lie Iva , : gono. Tn a minute more I
saw t.be duke cane with him to :he door,
and ;.„„fter slinking L tii warmly I,y the
iiand and pressing Lim to return when
ever e pyssildy could, they parted, and
the (1,!2:-cart disappeared rapidly, behind
that amde ol:•the r istle round which
hadMizs Craweour pass so sh o rt a
time Imf4re.
!„dlow ! what a departure. What
511 .sole in the gay story of the life at
( 'reel.
1 went back to my desk. And still
from the next room came that same plain
tive air, and still it seemed to belong to
what I wrote, and to he an inseparable
part of the day and its events.
Once mere I was disturbed, and by
the clatter of hoofs. Lt was a single
horse this time, and going evidently at a
tremendous pace.. I looked out and saw
young Balham, who had been one of the
party of equestrians, dashing along the
road at lull gallop. He, turned off in
the direction of the stables, and I saw
no more of him. I remained where I
was, but with a dim IM.elioding that
something had gone wrong, and by-and
by a low open carriage, empty, was driv
en out of the stable-yard at a great pace
Lord Balham rode rapidly on in front of
it, lmtli he and the carriage going back
by the way he had come.
I still kept where I was, and in a few
moments the (ham of the house NV as open
ed, and some of the servants came out.
They looked oat in the direction
~by
which the carriage had disappeared.—
Ono or two ladies'-maids stood ou the
steps, one of them the duchess's, and
there was another who was crying, but
quite quietly, the servants in such houses
being drilled into the greatest undemon
strativeness. I heard one of the men
servants say to another, " Roberts is
gone off to Inverkeed fur Dr. Maelntyre,
and James has gone into Creel for Mr.
Cameron. They'll both be here quickly."
"Is his grace in the house ?" " No.—
Ide's up at the plantations. But he's
been sent for."
The conversation among the men stop
ped suddenly. The carriage, driving very
slowly, had come in sight. It was follow
ed by some horsemen. Presently 1 made
out that two grooms behind were loading
each a lady's horse; then I saw that the
duchess was sitting in the carriage bend
ingovor and supportingsomething—some
body—lying at length on the cushions.
A gentleman, one of those on horseback,
detached himself from thegroup, and rode
swiftly up to tho4loor.
" Is Miss drAcour's maid here ?" ho
asked.
The girl came forward, sobbing. The
duchess's woman, older, with more head,
more nelf-controlled, and more useful now,
came out too.
Not a word more was spoken. The oar
riage drow 'up'to tbe door; and'i saw at a
glance 'that it was Misa, 7 Crawcour over
whom the duchess was bending; that the
'poor girl's habit was all torn and dirty;
And that a handkerchief,' deeply ; }3i
was•laid over her .fhoo:
''There was no word spoken, •The'
(hitless, in, tearsolesoended from the ear. ,
riage_and_ went lox; the house to ado that
all was'ready, while the deptiernen of the
party liftedthe poor maimed forni of Miss
OrmvoeUTS,fi . 'oM the cushions": I:ruilieed
that., Lord'... Buoy& did not ;rapist in' thiti;
but havered:lent 'the `group. in-tibelPless
TERMS:--$2,00 in Advance, or 82,50 within the year.
way. Nobody Beemod to' want him, or to
notice him.
I remained still where I was. I knew
I could be of no use, should only be in
the way below. I could not help looking.
I wish I had not. As they lifted Miss
Crawoour from the carriage, the handker
chief became displaced, and I saw—
One whole side of her face seemed to
have been crushed and beaten in. That
beautiful face!
It was covered again, in a moment, but
I had seen it—and so had some one else.
When Lord Snarl looked upon that mu
tilated face he turned even paler than he
had been before, and went into the house.
The door closed over the sad group,
with Mary Craweour's helpless figure car
ried in the midst of it, the carriage drove
away to the stables, and all was quiet
"And he did it, think of that," said
13alham. "It was that disgusting white
brute of his to whom this terrible mishap
is owing."
"What do you mean ?" I asked, as we
were talking sometime afterward about
what has been partly described above
" Ilow did the thing happen? .You saw
it all."
" It is told in two words," said Balham.
" You know that mare that poor Miss
Craweour used to ride. Well, she was
always an unsafe, ill-conditioned mare, in
my opinion, but on this occasion she was
particularly bad. All the time we were
out she was fidgeting and starting at ev
ery thing, and more than one of us want
ed Miss Crawcour to let the groom put
her saddle on one of the other horses, and
let some man with a stronger hand ride
the mare. However, it was no use, and
so at last—l never saw a worse thing—
the mare took fright at some barrow, or
something by the side of the hedge, and
bolted straight aoross the road at a bound.
Miss Crawcour was thrown, but fell clean,
luckily without becoming entangled with
the stirrup, and might have escaped se
rious mischief, when up comes that intol
erable ass Sneyd, on his infernal ambling
Astley's-looking beast, and rides clean
over her,- the brute of a horse—ash-1
can't bear to thitdrof it—sending one of
his hoofs straight into her face as he pars
ed.
And her arm is broken too, is it nut ?"
" YCH, I believe sn. That may, how
ever, have happened when bile fell; but
the other thing—that fearful mutilation
of the poor lady's face—was done by it
kick from that horse of Suoyd's and by
nothing else in the world. I saw it with
my own oyes.
THE REST OF` rms MANUSCRIPT ISE
I=
MS WRITING-DESK
SOME years after these things had hap
pened I stood on the suinnrirof one of
those mighty mountains which form a
boundary line, such as few countries can
boast of, between Switzerland and Italy.
It was evening, and I was gazing with
all my eyes into that; strange receptacle
for the dead which the monks of St. Ber
nard have placed at the door of their con
vent, and where the bodies of those un.
fortunates who have perished in the snow
aro preserved...l - ' 7 ' l llloy are embalmed by
the highly rarified air of that height, and
do not decay. The Egyptian mummies
are not more perfectly kept.
I was so absorbed in these strange fig•
ures that I scarcely noticed there was any
one standing beside MC, Until I heard n•y
own name pronounced by a voice familiar
to me. I turned and found myself face
to face with Jack Fortescue.
" Well," he said, almost before we had
exchanged greetings, "this is the most
extraordinary thing, the • most marvelous
combination of coincidences that ever took
places ince the creation of the world !
Who do you think is in there ?" pointing
to the convent. •
" Who ?" I asked. "In Heaven's
name, who ?"
"In the strangers' parlor there, you
will find, at this moment, your old ac
quaintance Lord Sneyd—and, what is
more, a new acquaintance, if you choose
to Make it, "in the shape of that nobleL
man's illustrious consort."
"[That, the Irish-Italian singer, who,
as I Saw by Gulignani, had managed to
become Lady Sneyd ?"
" The same."
" And your wife—where is she ?"
" Mary is with me. Is not extraord
inary, incredible almost, that we should
all be under the same roof again ? Do
you remember the last time ?"
" Remember it ? Shall I over forget
Mil
" Of courso," Fortns'eue wont on, " I
can't let her come in contact with those
people, so she keeps her room, or ratber i
her cell. It is awfully cold, but anything
is bettor than snob.' a meeting." •
--" But you will let Me see her ?".
•" You? Why,' of .3(')urBo," Fortospuo
answered,,. Itow, can you ask
._"l__will risk,somethingv - elop . „ then,' I
t'f! I' will ask you to tell inn
some of' the,partioulars of what took place
itibik.T: left Ctitel'and went, My
letters ‘ from England and the papers :told
lilt); to my great delight,
,of yonr
with Miss OrttwooUT, •and also of Lord
Sne3rd's • wonderful Intitch. 'But I wiSat
to'knob; more than • these'lntre facti."
" Tdo a ie 'wily pot 111U011: to tell," said
Forteseue. " W hen I got your letter tel
ling me of that terrible., disaste,r at Creel
I wag at Chatham, and was, in fact, just
negotiating for an exchange into a regi
ment that was going abroad at once. Your
letter altered' 311 my plans. Do what I
would the thought of that poor maimed
figure haunted me: the love which I had
resisted when she was in the full pride
and glory of her beauty became, now that
pity was mixed up with it, now that this
fearful trouble had come upon her, a
thing that I could no longer hold out
against. I felt that I must go back to
Creel. And I went.
"When I got there I found that infer
nal brute and scoundrel, Sneyd, had left
the place. Very soon after the accident
—you know that he had never actually
spoken to the duke about Mary, or said
any thing definite to her—well, very soon
after the acident he discovered that it was
actually necess l ary that he should pay
visit to some estates of his iri s lreland.
He left the castle to come ba& there no
more. lle went first of all to Ireland,
and then was absent on the Continent far
a considerable length of time. There
was an end of him. At Naples ho be
came entangled in the snares of a reg,u
lar designing adventuress, and out of those
snares lie has never escaped. I wish him
joy.
"Well, I staid on and on at Creel. It
was. a quiet, delightful time. After the
accident every body left, but Greta—he
and I, you know, were always great friends
—the duke pressed me to stay that he
might have somebody to shoot with, and
I staid on and on.
"At that time, too, I saw more of the
duchess than I had ever done before, and
one day we began talking about the ac
cident and about Sneyd's behavior, and
I ventured to say that I thought that if
Mary had broken every bone in her skin
she would still have had reason to con
gratulate herself on being thereby deliv
ered from a marriage with the wretched
creature that he had proved himself to be.
The duchess did not differ from me, and
somehow from that day a strange kind of
hope and happiness seemed to take pos
session of te—a curious indefinite do
light such as I bud never felt before.
"At length a day cane when I was al
lowed to see It, r. And when I went in
to the room"—at this point Forteseue's
voice faltered a little—"when I saw her
poor arm bound up, and halt her sweet
fit .0 covered with bandages, I knelt down
by the side of the sofa, and, in short, I
made a foul of myself. The duchess was
present, but she was fairly beat, and—
Will, very soon I was discussing ways
and means with the duke.
"There never was any thing like that
man's kindness. Besides making Nary
a very handsome present indeed, which
he declared ho had always intended to
do, he set himself to work to got Me such
an appointment as should make it possi
ble for we to marry. Between him and
the duchess (whose interest is not swall)
this has been effected, so I waited till I
gut company—l am Captain Fortes
cue now, if you please—and then sold my
commission, and with my own small
means, and my place in the Shot and
Shell Depattment, we manage to get on
in a very inexplicable but delightful way."
"And the privations avhich were to
make your wife so wretched ?" I asked,
as I shook" him warmly by the band.
"Looked touch worse at a distance than
they do close," said my friend. "I do
think, sincerely," he continued, "that an
imprudent marriage ought to be made
every now and then, if it is only to bring
out the immense amount of real kindness
ihat.there is in the world. lam perfect
ly sure that if two married people, how
ever poor they may be, will only put a
good face upon it, and neither sink down
into gloomy despair on the one hand, nor
shut themselves up in a haughty reserve
on the other-:-I am perfectly sere, 1 say,
that there is so much real goodness in the
world that they need never know that
they are poorer than other people, or suf.
for any of those humiliations, the dread
of which Iris kept tunny true and loving
hearts asunder. But come," said For.
tescue, "I am getting poetical. Let us
go inside., and see how Lord and Lady
Sneyd are getting on. he'll take no no
tice of either of us, yoU'll see.",
Fortescue left we for a time to go and
see after his wife, and I went up into the.
strangers' room. There was a good Jorge,
company assembled, waiting for the• sup
per hour, English tourists, ; Gorman, stu
dents, and some French (dicers—among
them, sure enough, sitting nest to ti,vcry
showy andover-dressed lady with jewelry
over.her, , with, ti,,yery otrong soupcon
paint:upon her countenance, with a
!long purl brought over her left shoulder
i --there was Lord Sneyd. • • •
`4 'Changed man aireadY: • Feeble and
'effeminate ho, was still, but heliod ceased .
to ~be the : insolent languid-.petitemaitro.
and ommomb - he .was .whenl hod last seen
;him. was Ic4Cred ., in, tone, his
whole iiiMiltipa eietMid•:tn`lie:iintirel,:tib
siiib4, in attention on
.bis; :off
whom lie. never took his. oyes.
T —t- "r-hear," --- said ,- Ferteseue to tno~-ate ho
took his iny • side - sit the' supper
table, "that he, is intenseli-jealons of her,d'
•and' leads, in coniequeneo, the Most, iniSF:
`trable life, imaginable. Loijk how, he
watching, now that that Frei/4340E0r i 0
speaking 16 her. The mania only (AO r
ing her some potatoes, but Sneyd looks
as if he would he had courage
enough—to put hie knife :into
It was true. A more pitiable and-0011..-
temptible sight \ I never witnessed- than
this man's jealousy. It extended itself
to the French officers opposite, to iho
Young English undergraduate who sat
next to the lady, end even to the good
looking young monk who—a perfect man
of the world, and a very agreeable fellow
—took the head of the supper-table. I
must say that Lady Sneyd's appeaiance
was not calculated to quiet her lord and
master's discomfort. A more liberal;usii
of a pair of fine rolling black eyes I nfr
or saw made. Not long after supper this
worthy pair retired, not the slightest al
tempt at recognition of either Fortesetfe
or myself being made on the part of this
distinguished nobleman. PerhapS her
was of the opinion that our fascinations
would be dangerous with his amiable con
sort. Perhaps he felt a little ashamed of
himself.
NO, 4.
As soon as those two were gone, or a 0
least after a reasonable interval, Fortes
cue addressed himself to.the young monk
who played the part of host, and'remark
ed that ho would go up stairs, and, if his
wife wore somewhat recovered from her
fatigues, would persuade her to come dowry
and get thoroughly warmed at the fire be
fore retiring for the night.
Our host, with that interest in other
pouple's affairs which foreigners either
ibel to so delightful an extent, or assume
so admirably, expressed his earnest hope
that "Madame would be able to descend,"
and Fortcscuo left the apartment.
I own that at this moment I feltsonie-
what nervous
In a short time the door opened, and
Fortescue appeared with his wife on his
arm. She' came up to me at once, and
we shook hands cordially, while I spoke
such words of congratulation as I had
ready, which were, in truth, not very
many. At one glance I saw that at all
events the expresxion of her face ',yap safe.
A great matter that, at any rate.
The injury which she had sustained
being from a kick, and not from a fall or
dragging along on the ground, was con
fined entirely to one portion (the left
side) of her face. That that injury had
been a terrible ono it was impossible
not to see even now. The brow im
mediately over the eye was scarred,
and the eyebrow something interrupt
ed in its even sweep; the cheek was
scarred and indented, and there was e
slight scar on the nostril, all on this same
left side; but the eye, sheltered in its
somewhat sunken recess,. bad escaped;
the mouth was unhurt, and, above all,
there was the expression, the general
look, of which the attractiveness had
been so great. That fearful injury which
had looked dorm on from the turret
window at Creel had loft much less dam
age behind than ono could Oven . hey©
hoped.
We talked pleasantly, all throe togeth
er—the rest of the company having re
tired, and our host too—for nearly an
hour. We talked of our travels, of the
places to which they were bound and
from which I was returning, and of a
hundred other things, until the hour ad-
monished us that it was time to part for
the night.
As we rose to say "Good.night"—my
friend and-his wife standing up togethei
I thought I had never seen a happier or
a better-matched couple. Suddenly a
thought seemed to strike her. She
touched her wounded cheek slightly with
her hand,
"Would you have known me?" she
asked smiling.
"No one can tell," said Fortesone, in
terrupting my ready answer, "how I love
that precious scar"—he loaned down and
touched it with his lips. "But for that
wo might not bo together now. But for
that your life, Mary, might have been
one of misery unutterable, and mine—if
not sacrificed on the plains of India—
might have been as utter a blank as that
of any one of those unknown men who
have entertained us here to-night."
To think the more a man eats the fit
ter and stronger be will become.
To believe the more hours children study,
the faster they learn.
To imagine every hour taken from
sleep: is an hour gained.
To act on the presumption' that
smallest room is the house largo -,a
nough to sleep in.
To argue whatever remedy oause6 one
to feel immediately better, is "goodfoe'
the system, without regard to'more nb;
terior effects.
To commit an act which is felt in' it-
self to bo prejudical, hoping that some,
how or other that it may be done in your;
case with impunity. . -
To advise. another to take a remed
which you have--tried,oi—withun - Fifia:
log special onqury whether all the condi.. , .
tione arc alike. ". ;,.. :‘
To eat without an appotite, fa' ,coAtin,4
ne to eat after it has been t.ati4ed,more r
ly to gratify the tact°.
TO eat a hearty supper: for. the plop 7
sure experienced duirig tidie it
is passing dowri - ,the throat, at, the e)F.,
pense of a whole eight disturhed'Reep,:,
and,Weafy *nking.the next norning,,
-A - small Gorman baron had occasion a
few days ago, to see Baron Rothschild; of
Frankfort. The 'great financier Was writ
ing away for ddar life when Baron X-L--
was •;antionncod. Ho did not dveti
his eyes,-but - said -- -i - = , :
"Take ja chairisie
The beron,,withi tr.nwkiernasu , :teucht4
Hess about.tit)esi - said- 7 - ; •-•*
gcSin indeed
.: ] , tliigkibt :. dg3etiqp dot
4.41 1 hoer my rccno. ~I,fun a, barp4,4 1 89.7r.,
_the . • - ~* •
"A4l , a. 41i,iiusat,id - pa ' r4Pike4Filiktd.,t)in:
banii.er,"*ll "yo.# rea baron—. 4
,t wo c hoirp,"then, yen ,ep
.kind, and wait" lilll itave finished ildie
letter.'l
Nine Follies.
=M