HUNTINGDON JOL
Wu )r, c No. 192.]
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11011 E CONCLUSIVE I'IIOOFF
01 the extraordinary efficacy of
Dr. - Wm. Evans/
CELEBRATED MEDICINES,
IN ALLEVIATING AFFLICTED MAN-
KIND.
CASE OE DYSPEPTA,
Mr. David Morris, 41 Sulltilk street, N.
York, had been severely afflicted with dys
pepsia for upwards of three years, during
which time he seldom experienced any re.
lief. lie was troubled with constant voni
Wags, and on some occasions raised blood
an occasional cough, with pain in the chest
and difficulty of breathing, drowsiness,
uneasy sleep. loss of appetite, giddiness,
unpleasant taste in the mouth, with fur.
red tongue. All these distressino•" symp
toms disappeared, after using Dr, Wm.
Evans' celebrated medicines. Mr. M.
called a day or two back, and stated the
above; also, lie is willing to afford any furs
they information regarding the nature and
cure of his case to those-similarly afflict.td
Office No, 19 North eight st. Philadelphia.
A Case of Tic Doloreux
Mrs. J. F.. Johnson, wife of Capt. Joseph
3,hnson, of Lynn, Mass., was severely af
flicted for ten yea •s with Tic Doloreux, vio
lent pain in the head, and vomiting, with
burning heat in th • stomach, and unable to
leave her room. She could find no relief
from the advice of several physicians, nor 1
from medicines of any kind, until after she
Had commenced using Dr. Evans' medicine,
and from that time she began - to amend, and
feels satisfied if she continues the Medicine
a few days longer, will be perfectly cut•ed.
Reference can be had as to the truth of the
above, by calling at Mrs. Johnson's daught
er's Store, 339 Grand street, N. Y.
The Pith are for sale at Jacob Miller's
Store, Huntingdon, Pa.
Philadelphia, Dec. 21. 1838.
to Ds. Wm, Evans—Dear sir: 1 am tra
i" happy to write you this in token of thanks,
fin the relief they have given ine-1 meal;
the CAMOMILE PILLS. About two
years ago 1 was much troubled with Dyspep
sia. My symptoms were very alarming. I
was sometimes subject to fainting, great
weaknes no rest at night and not able to
eat anything, ill did it was sure to be thrown
up. I could not keep any nourishment in my
hotly.' 1 sit last gave up all hope an.. told
my physidians that I could have no use fur'
them—•l must die,' said I; .so there is no
use in paying any more doctur's bills.' A-'
tomt" a month age, a cousin of mine came to
see me; :titer talking awl.ile about my sick
ness 1 told him I had taken almost evi ry no- d
icine that was spoken of as good for any coin
plaint. He said,
'Have you tried Dr. ILvans'
CAMOMILE PILLS?' I said 'No.' Well
he then gave nie a package hi had bought
the day before for his wife, and said he weud
get another fo her. I cAninenced taking
the pills and am happy to .tote, that in two
weeks I was hearty and. well, and able to
write this letter, which I could not have dune
when 1 was sick, because toy hands were
nervous. I hays written this in pure grat
itude to you. I hope you will publish this
and let it be known. 1 would publish it my
self, but I am very poor and not able to pay.
In publishing it, I think you will gain an ar,
vantage, fin! ant well known among all
those of the trade I am in, and too many of
them. I fear are now near deaths door,
for want of some proper medicine to cure
Dyspepsia. Any person wishing to see me
can call lit my house, No. 221 Poplar Lane;
or at my shop in F root street, third dour
above Coates street.
I remain yours, !cr..
GhO. C. MkR t'IN
The above medicine is for sale at Jacub
Miller's store Huntingdon.
Case of Inflammatory Rheuma
tism. Another positive proof
of the extraordinary success of
Dr. Win. Evans' practice.
Mr Munson, at Mrs, Lewis', 21 Bowery,
N. Y. was laboring under a vi lent mflam
mstory Rheumatism, being completely una
ble to move in his bed witi.out assistance,
with extreme pain in his legs and aritts,which
were swollen to an enormous size, with great
weal, excessive thirst, dryness of skin, and
violent pain in the head, &c., all of which
has within forty-eight hours greatly by Dr.
iEtVANS' CAMOMILE PILLS, and lii a
err clays restored to perfect health.
The Pills are for sole :it Jacob Miller's
ore, Huntingdon, P.t.
THE GARLAND.
`" ~ ~~' ~
swe. test fl , .wers emit:led
From various gardens culi'd with care."
HE COMES.
BE CATNERINE H. WATER MAN.
He com,s—
Homt.'s holy spells around his heart are cast,
Their gentle music breath has lured him
back.
And the soft shadawy pictures of the past
Start up before Ins homeward track;
My brother comes.
He comes—
The echoes of loved voices hush'd so long,
Have stolen like spirits through his midnight
- dreams,
And tones bare whisper'd in their fairy song,
Bringing back Inonents lit by rainbow
gleams;
My brother conics.
lie comes—
But oh! the eyes that shone in joy for him,
As t is loved footsteps' echo meet the car;
With their long watching vigils have grown
dim,
And beam but sadly at these words of cheer
My Brother comes. ;
He comes—
But long, long weary years have fled away,
And time perchamte bath sadly changed his
face,
Blanched his dark locks with the world's
slow decay,
But each loved lineament again we'll trace;
My Brother cum( s.
He Comes , —
Speed him white sails across the heaving
deep;
Change bath not crept into our hearts—
those years
Have been but trusty jilors. sent to keep
Closer those tried affections uurst Its tears;
My Brother comes.
He comes—
Home's holy spells arcund his heart are cast,
Their retitle music breath hath lured him
back,
And the soft shadowy pictures of the past
Start up again before his homeward track;
My brother comes.
Sr:elect Cate.
From the Saturday Courier.
LI/Clkr RAYMOND:
Olt nu; YOUR untL.
SY MISS ISIDORE.
flow strangely inconsistent is man, in
bestowin !. the homage, the adoration he •
does on his fellow man. Not upon de
serving man, but uporfouls, upon mon
keys dressed in the livery of man. It
matters not what a man's mind is, or.
whether he has one at all; if he has more
gold than Iva neighbor, if he outshines
him in equipage and show, he is carresaed,
honored and adored. I :lave seen real
merit pass unnoticed, because its posaes
bur was clothed in agarb of poverty, I
have known minds, which if developed
might. have swayed empires, and govern
ed the fate of men, remain to .ever obscu
red, because their dwelling was a poor
man's breast. I have known hearts,
alive to every feeling of humanity, love
and altection, remain through life unper
: witted to shire the joys and sorrows of
others, because the boson's in which they
were enshrined were bared by the hand .1
poverty. and heaving wi;h the sorrows of
an isolated, deserted being., And I have
known the basest villainy sanctioned; the
most unpardonable ignorance tolerated,
and the affections of the coldest hearts
sought after, because their possessors had
heaped together more of earth's glittering
sand than their neighbors.
How prone are we all, to form our opin
ion of mankind by external appearances;
to judge of the inner by the outer man,
without remembering that the meanest
and most despicable minds may find a
dwelling under a beautiful exterior; that
the whited sepulcher may be full of un
cleanfless
We search not for an altar-place ofi
worth and virtue; hut where we find a
golden shrine, there we pay our vows of
friendship, and sacrifice, perchance, our
honor and our peace.
I had gone thus far in my reflections on
the world's meanness, when I heard the
merry voice of Ellen lofilan.l exclaim—
"ONE COUNTRY, ONE CONSTIT:TON, ONE DESTINY."
A. W. BENEDICT PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR.
UUNTINCTION. PIqiNSVI VANIA, IDNESPAT, JUNE 26. 1109
Brother Clement, here are curds for oh
from our good old friend A una Hastings
The 6, to have t party this evening, in huo•
of volt . rottlytl."
Vid I Clement, "every
• ••' vill will bloom
•,•., aierry circle of
, • •n 1 i,•it."
•• : a •.v :eakember that seven
•.riz,ed them to marriageable
—am; l l ,dies," said Ellett; ..so don your
sweetest smile, and eltoise your lady-love
tie-night. By the way, Irene Hargrave.
is t.i lie t!iere. You will be captivated by
,er, I roll tent. She is extremely
au ! ,teemoplished, and admired
Oy ee,•ry a,al wily. I should like
I - ter well !, .r. So now !ireirtre trl
sorreimer your t. if, as on Assure me,
you has e not L t it with the dark-eyed
maids of Italy.''
write rose that all are oraisim;,
Is not the ruse for inv,"
said Clement, gaily —"not Nlin i s th,
paragon? Irene Ilargrave is ail uota
miliar name?
"tier father is a wealt!'v •,•—•'i •
New York, Mr. Horace •,• • ~•
you nut heard of Ida/ l'ite ;ire
quite the aristocracy, Irene sa-s. As all !
fashionable people do, they are spendi., : •
the warm season in the country, and itie
are a great ae9taisition to our society, 1
assure you. hey have a great deal of
genteel company from the city, and we
are Last laying aside our awkward coun
try manners."
''And adopting those not half Ro enga
ging, I am al raid," said Clement.
A bright throng of youth and beauty
had congregated in Anna Hastings' par
lor, and when Clement lAHand was an
nounced, every eye beamed in gladness.
Ile had been absent several years, and
the cordial welcome with which all gree
ted him, was indeed sincere; but 01 else
seemed cold and assumed. There was
nut the free, gay joyousness, he expected
to find in a reured`village. Fashion and
etiquette seemad to preside there with as
mucii dignity as :n a city saloon.
%nd he was wondering if it was the
aristocratic Nuttily of Mr. Horace Har
grave that had worked this change, when
Ellen whispered in his ear--"keep thy
heal t with all diligence," and introduced
him to the lair Irene. And had the twen
ty of her mind equalled that of her per
son, Clement would perhaps have needed
the caution. But he saw that in her vain
and affected manner, there was nothing to
l iminess his heart.
"Miss Loffland, your brother is noble
looking," said Irene Hargrave, am per
fectly fascinated with his appearance.
His foreign air is perfectly irresistible
but did you see how familiarly that poor
girl, Lucy Raymond, shook hands with
him as if she were his equal. I rim per
fectly astonished that Miss Hastings
should admit such people into her socie
ty'. I havetuit been accustomed to asso
ciate with poor girls." And she cast a
look ,41 Korb upon poor Lucy Raymond,
and strode haughtily across the room.
"Well, Clement," said Ellen next
morning, "how do you like Irene liar
grave? is she not a splendid girl? Cow,
now acknowledge that you are perfectly
enraptured, and intend make proposals
its smut as etiquette will allow."
" Which I certainly tio not intend to
du," said Clement. Miss Hargrave is
exactly the reverse of my beau ideal of a
wife. She is indeed beautiful but as
proud as she is pretty. Did you not ob
i anrte how scorr,futly she treated that
beautiful girl, Lucy Raymond'!"
"Well,it is really Guy' king that Ann
sLouid invite Lary to so large a party.
I think WP inght io be more select in our
sociely. Irene says it is not genteel for
rich ith:i poor to associate together; and
• you know, is entirely penniless.
But - 1 forgot; it was after you left that
the atftir occurred."
h.' Attit?" Clement
hr, M.. It avm . oil's misfortunes.—
Vim remember when you left he was con
sidered cwt. a wealthy men; but he soon
became v ok•ed, suffered tt success.on lit
losses, and his creditors seized all his pro.
perty. Such a sodden revere of l'ortune
produced derangement, and in a few
weeks he died. And poor klrs. ((option,: ,
whose health had always been delicate,
now sunk under misfortunes. and in a
f e w imintlis she too died; and•Licy was
left a destitute orphan. But her tout
Barnard declared, that 1, - tev ha:l
genteelly brought up, sh, ohitu ii t,rt. .
labor for her support, and gave her
home with her, though she vas not really
able to do
"And because she has lost fri , nds aai
fortune, and most needs your friendship,
you have deserted her:"
"I do associate with her," said Ellen
"until Mr. Hargrave's family emus her.
Irene would not notice her, and wished
one not to, and no one invites her now but
Anna Hastings, and she is as intimate
with her as she used to be."
- Alta shows herself a nuble•minie,
•tirl. And I wish, Ellen, you had proved
as true a friend. Really, 1 cannot give
yea credit for much discernment,lf you
Can find more to love in the proud, haugh
ty lrene Hargrave, than in the amiable
Licy Rayntood, as beautiful too, as any
of your proud city belles. And I deem
her no less lovely, on account of her pov
erty. Ellen, 1 have mingled with the no•
ble and the great, and been surrounded
wait splendor and wealth, but thank God
I have not learned to despise real merit,
because its dwelling is with the poor."
"Really, Clement, 1 believe you have
fallen to love with the fair orphan, and t
will go and inform mamma. She war
' ad . ? ity, before you teturned, she hoped
ou width form some novae alliance in
E.,trop,; oat she oill probably be proud to
I re& el , e the portionless Lucy as her
... _
it chi wiin a half vexed, half
lo,k, Ellett left the room.
Clement was left alone, and sat mus
ing on what hail assed. Lie had never
, !ineriained one thought of making Lucy
. . lit now her pale sweet face
•• h.,ii, invested with all the pu
oa and mitt cence; and he felt
ue a happy task to throw
dower:. oa her darkenen pathway.
« • * * • a
It s , as a beautiful evening; the moon
was careering her joyous way through the
,• ant the stars were looking in
tutu . ,!!,,ery ueauty upon the earth. And
uveKle a placid stream. that moved cols
lebbiy, but sweetly on. sat L'icy RAlno , :d
and her trn,ql Anna.
"How surpassingly beautiful," said Lu
cy, "is such an evening, when all nature
is as calm as an. angel's face, and the un
clouded moon and stars I wk in their un
approachable beauty on the earth, and
mirror themselves in every glassy stream.
041' feelings are then too deep for utter
ance. We seem to be freed from earths
thoughts, and to hold communion with the
'stars. If false, it is certainly a beautiful
idea, that the spirits of departed friends
descend from their home in heaven, to
watch over and cheer the sorrowing
friends dearth. And "oft in the stilly
night," while gazing at the bright stars
have fancied them the home of departed'
ones. who in the pure deep stillness of the
- night, descended awl kept vigils oy the
fineudi of earth. And when the pure air
steals in gentle zephyrs amid the green
leaves, I almost fancy it is my mother's
voice. Methinks I could bear the scuffs
and neglect of a proud world, if I old ;
had a mother to love me. AIWA, what a
curse is poverty. I know that real merit
is of more w..rth than gold, but it is to
wealth the proud world Uows; and when I
see myself neglected and scorned, because
of my poverty, it crushes my proud spirit.
I have a bean. formed for love and c•rn
panionship with my fellow beings.
Feelings and sympathies I would gladly
share with them; but the world scorns my
i • sympathy, 11101 rejects my love. It makes
me sad, very sad; but I have turned livin
it, resolved to court 110 more its false and
fleeting smiles. And Anna, I have turned
to von, and bestowed all my affections.
And should you desert me, and cast away
my love as a worthless thing, then would
the last curd that binds toy heart to earth
De broken, and I care nut how sou 11 the
wild winds chant toy requem."
"Fear nut, dear Lucy, for it all others
deserts hen, I will chug the closer. But
a truce to these sober musings, my sweet
friend; they become nut one so young and
pretiy.” .
. .
• ...ill Anna, I have nothing to make me
gay. &rimy and disappointment have
woven with every inch of my destiny.
And even n hen I indulge in hope and joy,
the dark clouds I see approaching cast lir
gloom over my bright hours. But it is
not because 1 wish to anticipate trouble;
I do not wish to view the dark pages of
life; gladly would I cast away my sorrows,
and mingle in the laughing crowd. And
even now, 1 um sometimes stoical en•
ough to laugh at sorrow, and build fresh
hopes on the frail fabric I know will tot
ter.'
"Lacy" said Anna, you ate in a sad
inn.' ...night; but come, away with this
fur believe me, your star will
e long change its aspect. I have had
b. , ;;1.1 dreams at thee of late.''
Anita, I too htive had bright
i.s; bright and beautiful as yon stars;
iet they encircle me with a halo of joy;
kind friends smile upon me; and sweet
thrill. in my rats. But as change
irm • 0%, the spirit of toy dreams.
In tie. midst of dazzling happiness, the
rap, ry of gloom is thrown around my.
".us do toy bright imaginings all
• ~
•• .1 ell, Lu,,y, my dream was as blight
ta aid nu chat4e comes over it.—
v hear ill I dreamed that your.
:-,rrow had all passed away, you
urd titra,..“ :twee that sad look of thine,
and dunned the smites of And 1
dreamed that you had bestowed yew lure
on on?, of earth's noblest suns, a being
BAAL.
Med with die noblest attributes ul
'attire. It was Clement Loft'hind. What
think you of my dream, Lucy?"
"That it was but the wayward fancy of
+ dreamer's brain; wild and vain as toy
uwn hopes."
•'Bat I believe," said Anna, "that 'tin
something more than an idle dream, for it
is blended with my waking as well us my
,leeping visions; and I have taken a fancy
that your future destiny will be woven in
the same web with Clement Lothand's."
"No, Anna. never. The proud and
gifted Clement Loffland will never wed a
portionleasorphan."_
"But Clement Lo Maud, proud and
sifted as he is, deems you no less lovely
on account of your poverty. "le is no•
ble minded and generous, and would
rather win the rich affection of an humble
heart, than the mock love of an ambitious
girl. Su doff thy lengthened visage, sweet
Lucy, and clad thy face with smiles, fur
believe me, I am no litlse prophetess."
"For truth, Anna, by thy wise look, one
would think you deeply read in the sybil's
mystic leaves. But remember, I shall
give you no credit for your gift of prophe
cy."
'Until all things be fulfilled, you'
mean," said Anna. "But it is growtng
late and we must return, or the "weird
sisters" themselves will pay us a visit.
Irene Hargrave is to have a party tomor
row evemn: ! , and I suppose she will be
trying to win our village knight though I
have heard her repeatedly declare she
would never marry an American. But
she is not the one for Clement Lolfland."
Mr. Horace Hargrave was a wealthy
merchant in New York, Who when young
had been wild and reckless, and commit
ted a thousand lollies, one of which was
wedding a girl totally deficient in every
quality necessary in a wife and mother.
And the fair Irene was suffered to grow
up her very counterpart, proud, ample
land vain. Claiming a remote descent
' from an English lord, Irene was taught to
believe that pure blood flowed in her veins
that mantled the cheeks of American
girls. An I she regarded all beneath
her tank with haughtiness and contempt.
Ostentatious and extravagant, Mr. Har
grave had delighted the gay circles of
New York with his apiended parties and
entertainments, and Irene had been court
ed, and flattered, and spoiled. She had
smiled most coodescentlingly, on the vil
lage belles of because as she wrote
to an acquaintance in the city, it was pro
digiously amusing to see how delighted
they were with her attentions.--:To
L iffland, she had been particularly
gracious she had a brother making the tour
of Europe, which in her eyes very much
enchanced his excellence.
Of that brother's heart she was now
resolved to make a conquest, not because
she desired his love, for she was nut ca
pable of such an emotion herself, and
could not therefore appreciate the value of
another's. But she would lain honor the'
name of Clement L Amid; by enrolling it
among the list of lie, rejected suitors.
It was Irene's birth-day, and site had
resolved to give a party. Some friend's
front the city were with her, and cards
' were sent to a select number of the elite
of our village, among whom were Clem
ent and Ellen Loffland.
With a smile that was intended to be
witch, Irene greeted Clement Loffland,
and invited hint to sit by her. ' , lt is so
long," bald she "since 1 have seen a per
t son that I could converse with, that I!
have almost had the horrors, sod I told
papa to-day, that I should surely die of
ennui if we did not return to New York
soon. Courrtry people are so annoying.,
There a /10 one here except your sister,
that I ct.n iit•all endure. She is a sweet'
girl, and I intend to persuade her to refi
turn with inc to New York. Site will be
much admired there. 1 should think, Mr.
Loffland, that these country people would
lid past endurance, offer mingling with
the nobility of Europe. Are they not?"
Why, I have not found them at all an
noying. 1 like their open hearted man
ners?
"Oh, every thing in the country is so
vulgar, where people are not select in
their society, but rich and poor associate'
together. :Diet you think it has a very
demoralizing influence on society?"
"1 do not consider wealth the test of
worth. Nature has given to many a mind
far better than his birth, and I believe we
generally fluid as pure morals among the
poor as the rich. And )think if any per
son is well bred and respectable, he ought
not on account of his poverty be excluded
trom good society."
• eh, perhaps my views are different
from having always moved in the refined
circles of New York, but I confess / like
an aristocracy, and have been teasing
papa to remove to England. Our ances
tors were among the nobility of that coun
try. We have a portrait of one of them
who was a countess, and I have been told
that I very strikingly resemble her. Oh,
/delight to live in knglanl, the scenery
r VOL. IV. No 26.
eis so splendid. "it is very beauti
-41, but / think does not exceed American
scenery" said Clement.
. • . . _
..01; I du not believe I should think no.
'f he scenery here is so countrified, I nev
er could admire it. But in England time
Lt.?, castles and drawbridges, and abbeys.
I should delight to ramble among them.
Did you ever visit the field of Waterlool"
"1 did," said Clement.
"Oh, I should delight to visit it. I
always felt sorry that Bonaparte was con
quei eel there. h seemed so cruel that he
should be banished to St. Helena; though
have heard too that his parentage was
r:zther obscure. But-speaking of Water
loo reminds me of an amusing incident in
my life. I had heard a great deal about
Bunker's Hill, and a gentlemen told me
it made him feel patriotic to visit it. Anti
last summer while on an excursion to Bos
ton, I persuaded papa to go with me and
visit it; and judge of my 'tarpr ise, when
papa pointed to a common country hill,
and said that was Bunker's 11111. I pos
itively laughed outright."
If the fair Irene contemplated the con
quest of Clement's heart, her hopes had
now tegun to dwindle; and after exert
ing her conversationa powers another
half hour in the attempt, without any ap
parent success, she concluded that Cle
ment Loam(' was the strangest being
she Lad ever seen, and left him to seek a
spirit kindred with her own. And as
she moved away. "simple girl," thought
Clement. And the mild intelligent face.
and pure and sensible converse of Lucy
Raymond rose in contrast. And how
strange the contrast! In one was the
proud - , haughty spirit of a silly girl, with
nothing to admire or love. Yet the world
bowed before that shrine, for she was rich.
In the other, was the mild, subdued spirit
of an humble heart, in whom was blend
ed all that is bright and beautiful in our
imaginings, whose heart was the home of
kind affections and holy topirations, and,
the world had shut her out from its pres
ence, for she was poor. "How strange,"
thought Clement, "that sensible men will
'regard with such delight the exterior of
man, without looking to that which is
within. Rather would Igo to my grave
• unknowing and unknown,' than to be
chased through life by an admiring, de
ceitful crowd, and followed to my grave
by a train of mock mourners." _
brother, how sage you look,"
exclaimed Ellen. "What straoge prob
lem are you endeavoring to aolver
"The mystery of human actions," said
Clement.
"Well, let alone thy musings to a titer
time, and conic with me and listen to
sweet music. Irene is playing a new and
fashionable song."
Clement listened awhile to the soft
notes and tine voice, but he remembered a
sweeter voice, and after conversing a while
with Anna Hastings, he bent his steps to
listen to it.
Lucy felt that it was very kind in Cle
ment Lullland to leave the gay circle and
cheer her loneliness. She was a frank,
cunflding girl. The world's flattery and
deceit had not poisoned the native purity
of her mind. Her conversation free, and
easy, and tinged with a shape of melan
chuly, strangly affected the heart ot Cle
ment. And as he gazed upon her lovely
face where goodness sat enthroned, he
thought at that shrine he could pay his
vows of constancy and love, careless of
the voice of the world.
Bright and beautiful dream; hovered
round Lucy's pillow that night, and when
she awoke she was half inclined to be
lieve Anna's prediction true. "But no,
the high-born Clement Lotiland would
never wed one so lowly and neglected; his
heart was a shrine where the luvliest and
best of earth's daughters might delight to
pay her vows of adoration. ' Still, ever
us she banished the wild thought, it would
again return, reminding her of expres
sions in which Clement had unconscious.
ly betrayed his feelings.
Ohl how a tried, a look, a smile, will
conjure up a thousand hopes, making a
thrill of joy dance round the heart, and
encircling the future with a halo of un
dimmed happiness.
Wild ho , ,es clustered round 'the heart
of Lucy daymond, and she fancied she
could bee a gulden thread blending with
the dark web of her destiny.
A bright and beautiful bird is Hope; it
comes to us mid darkness and the storm,
and sings its sweetest song when our
I spirits are saddest; and when the lone
heart is weary, and longs to pass away,
it warble. its sunniest notes, and tightens
again the slender fibres of our hearts that
grief has been tearing away.
Lucy's heart was formed for love, sad
she had ever wished for something on
which to lavish her rich affections; some•
thing to love and be loved again in re
turn, but she would never bestow her
love unmasked.. She felt, that were she
permitted, she could return the love of
Clement with the purest affectioas of her
natur.•; but until Littne arklctioall were