1 V33Y SXCKLE I^, Proprietor.] NEW SERIES, A weekly Demoptuo paper, devoted to Pol- ss f les, News, the Arts 4 and Sciences Ac. Pub- 5 ished every Wednes day, at Tunhhannoek, 1j \ f' B # "Wyoming County, Pa. %J ( \ U—I J BY HARVEY SICKLER. " Terms —1 copy 1 year, (in advance) >2 00. not pain within six months, *'2.50 will be charged "NO paper will be DI3CONTINTFD, until all ar rearages are paid; unless at tho option of publisher. A.X>V3DX^.Ti.j£SX3NrO-. 10 tines or . j. j . nr , e less, make three four tico ; three six one square weeks'xeeek- no'th mo'th md'th V e 1 Square l,oi 1,25 2.25} 2,57[ 3,00f 5,0 2 do. 2,0 l! 2,50 3,25 3.50 4,50; 6.0 3 to 3,00 375 4,751 5,501 7,09 9,0 J Column. 4,00 4.59 6,50! 8,00 ( 10,Ou 15,0 i do. 600 950 10,00 12,00! 17.00 25.0 i do. B,'ooj m,O 14.0b'! 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PHYSICIAN & SURGEON, Would respectfully rn unce to the eijizcns.of Wy jning. that he hai located at TvokhSnnock wiiero he will promptly attend to all Calls tn the liue of his profe s : n. [/if U ill b found at home on f-aturdays of each week Sllfjllft >)OUSS, (j 'Wo L 11AII HI S1 HI!! T, 1' !•: NN A. The undersigned having lately purchased the " BUEHI.ER HOUSE " property, has already m ineneed such alterations and improvements as will render this old an 1 popular II ,use equal, i: not supe rior, to any Hotel in the City of Harris'.urg. A continuance of the public patronage is refpcct fully solicited. GEO. J. BOLTON WALL'S HO EL, LATE AMERICAN IIOh &E, TUN KHAN NO( K, U YOMI \ G CO.. PA. TIIIS establishment has recently beer, refitted an furnished in the Lite?" style Every attention will be given to th comfort and convenience of those who patronize the llou->e. T. B. WALL, Owner and Proprietor . Tunkhanneck, September 11, 1861. NORTH BRANCH HOTEL, MESHOPPEN, WYOMING COU NTY, l'A IVm. 11. COUTRIGHT, Prup'r HAYING resumed the proprietorship of the above Hotel, the uudersigned will spare no effort to render the house an agreeable place of - b urn for all who may favor it with their custom. # \Vm. H CCRTRIIIiIT. June, 3rd, 1863 ■X , <E>X7T7 , T"JT3^_, D. B t BART LET, [Late of the Bbraixard House, Eljiiiia, N. Y. PHOPUIETOK. The MEANS HOTEL, Bono of the LARGEST and BEST ARRANGED Houses in the country—lt is fitted up in the most modern and improve! style, and no pains are spared to make it a pleasant and agreeable atoppipg-plaeo for all, v 3, n'2i, ly, M. GILMAN, " / A / DENTIST. ; w' y *• V -jr pV* - " I T OILMAN, hasp crmanontly located in Tunk- IM. hantc •> k B professional services to the citizens ot . - [faco and urrounding country. ALL WORK WARRANTED, TO GIVE SATIS FACTION. otfico over Tutlon's Law Omce, tear t:. e I'os Office. Dee. 11, IS6I. ITTIJIALEtiII AGEIBY CNDUCTED BY habvy AND coi.tjnp, WASHINGTON, h, C- In order to faciliate the prompt ad uatment of Bounty, arrears of pay, Pensions and other Claims, due sosdiers and other persons from tihoGoverument o*" the United States. The under fwel has mode arrangements with the above firm onso experience and close proximity to, and daily n ereourse with the department; as well as the ear reknotvledge, acquired by them, of the decisions ayquently being made, enables them to prosecute t&ims more efficiantly than Attorneys at a distance, laprssibly do All persons outitlei to claims of the aivelestrip'.iia em u-ive them properly attended fclnobbyling on me and entru<tin" thorn to mv care HARVEY SICKLER, r _ ~ -AgU fur Harvy A Collins, fnkh9Enock,Pa. MANHOOD. Third Edition, Fifiy Thousand, 96 pages cloth covers, By ROBT. 15, RELL, M. I)., Member of the Royal College of Surgeons. London, addressed to youth, tho married, and those CON TEMP LA TING MA RE I AGE. Sent by mail, post paid, on reeeipt of TEN CENT* A careful perusal of this small book has been a BOON TO THE AFFLICTED ! ! and has saved thousands from a life of misery and AN UNTIMELY GRAVE , Itjtrouis on the cvild of Youthful Indiscretion, Self- Abuse, Seminal Weakness, Emissions, Sexual Dis eases, General Debility.Loss of Power, Nervousness, Premature Decay, Impotence, <&o.. Ac., vhich unfit the sufferer from fulfilling the OBLIGATIONS OF MARRIAGE. and illustrates the means of euro by the use of IMPORTANT N OTICE, msmKi and other treatment necessary-fa some cases, and which Never fails to Cure and can be Relied on. They do not nauseate the stomach, or renter tho ! breath offo isive, ana they can be USED WITHOUT DETECTION. They do not interfere with business pursuits, and are speedy in action. NO CHANGE OF DIET IS NECESSARY. They (ire Wurranled in al Case*, to no effectual in removing and curing the disease. Upwards of two thou i.i 1 cases are on record that II AV E P. EE N CUR E D byn IngRULL' S SPECIFIC PILLS, an! certifi cate can be sh >wu from many that have used them xso Case of IT a lure ever Occurs. Upirardi if a Hurt /red Physicians use them ex -iicty 11 their private practice, and they can not cfect cures without them. HELL'S SPECIFIC PILLS. Are the original lfil only g'nuino Specific Fill There are a Lost oi imitators—BEWAßE OF T HEM. THESE ARE WARRANTED. They are adapted f r male or female, old or young, and are the only reliable remedy known fe- the cure ol all diseases arising from YOUTIIF UL IN DISC RE TlO N. In all Sexual Diseases, as Gonorrhea, Stricture, Gleet, an 1 iu all I rinary an 1 Kidney complaints, THEY ACT LIKE A CHARM. • Relief ts experienced by ! king a single l.ox ; an! from four to six boxes gene:-illy effect a cure* SOI 1> FY It 1. 1 titil.-IS GENERALLY, in boxes containing six pills, price 91 or six boxes IS ; also in larg boxes, containing li-ur of the small, price S3 It you need the Rook or tho Pills, cut out this nihertistiiient for rofcren.-e, an 1 if v.u cannot pro cure them of your drugg.st, do not he imposed on by any viler remedy, but one* so the money in a letter to ih>; proprietor, DIl. J. DRY. IS. F()X 5079, 76 CEDAR STREET, N. Y. I who will take all risk if |roperfy directed, and will sen i the Pills, secured from observation, by return mail, post Paid. SOLD BY DRUGGIST* GENERALLY. DEMAS BARNES A CO , NKVV Youk, AVi. tsale Agents. IMPORTANT 10 LADIES. | The Private Medical Al\i-?r. An invaluable treatise of 64 pages, by JDR. JOHN HARVEY. | j üblished for the benefit of tho sex. On receipt of TEN CENTS, it will beser t ' past paid, r a sa!ed envelope to all who apply ! for it. J It gives a concise description of all the diseaseses I peculiar to females, together with means of cure, i and treats of Conception, Prtgnacy , Miscarriage, j Sterility. Sexual Abuses, Prola]isus Uteri, Fe male Weakness, Consumption, Ac. and much I othar valuable information not published in any | other work. Every lady should procure a copy without delay. Three Editions, 50,000 each, have already been published k distributed thisyear. i siyji the most infallible and popular remelv ever known for all disease- of tho female sex. They have been u-e 1 in in ttiy tic u- in I cases with unfailing su cess —and may be relied on in everp case for wbieh they j are rccmmended, and particularly in all eases aris- I mg from j OBsIIIUCTfCN, OR STOPPAGE OF NATURE, no matter from what en use it arises. They are ef fectual in r. storing to :t< Ith all who are suffering from I Fen Am ex? and Debility. Uterine Discharges. Nervousness, 4* • Ac•, and ihey A0 T Lliv E A CIIA RM ! in strengthening r.ndrestoring the system. Thous an is ot l i lies who have suffered for years and tried various other remedies in vain, owe a renewal of their health and strength wholly to the efficacy of DR.] I All VEY S FEMALE PILLS. They are not a new discovery but long tried rem edy—the celebrated DR, JOHN IIARVEX. one of the most eminent physicians, prescribed them for many years in his private practice, and no phy , eieian ru more truly popular or wilely known than ! hsm in the treatment cf FEMALE 1) IFF ICO L TIES ! All who have used I'n, IIARVKY'S FLU ALB PILLS | recommend them to others. Nurses recommend them Druggists and Dealers recommend them in preference to other medicines.because of their merits No ladv obb fs to take them for thev are elegantly PRBPAUED BY AN EXPERIENCED CHEMIST j They ar perfectly harniloss ttn the system, may | be taken at any time with perfect safety ; hut dur ing the early stapes of Preatuincy they should l not he taken, or a miscarriage may be the result.— They never cause any sickness, pain or distress. Each box contains sixty pills and fuil direction" for use. Price One Dollar. iW Cut this notice out if you desire Dr Har ! ret/s Pitts or Book, and if you cannot ir ,-e them of your druggists, do not take any r. /or some dealers ulio are unprincipled irdl rccomend other Female PiUs', they can make a larger profit on— but enclose the money and send direct to Dr. J. BYILAN, General Agent, ] Box 5079 . 7< Ceder Street, N,Y, j Who will take all risk if properly directed ; and i you will receive them post paid, securely sealed from observation, by return mail, SOLD BY DRUGGISTS GENERALLY. DEMAS BARNES & CO., New YORK, Wholesale Agents, v 4 n29-Iy. "TO SPEAK HIS THOUGHTS IS EVERY FREEMAN'S RlGHT."—Thomas Jefferson* i. TUNKHANNOCK, PA., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 8, 1865. Select lorn, BX CLARA AUGUSTA. CHAPTER I. A long stretch of dull, lured sky—the fie ry sun sinking from view behind a ridge of gray, blue hills—a dark—musky vapor hanging over the waste, which was bounded on one side by a line of rank willows, and on the other by the sluggish waters of a shal low river. The south-east wind blew up sickly and cbill from the distant sea, and sent a shudder through tho leafless branches of the woodbine s*ill clinging to the casement, Francis Ilaley closed the window, letdown the curtain, and turned inward to the scant fire burning on the brick hearth. The red glow lit up her face, but the warm light cc'd not make that face other than it was- -plain and hopelessly ugly, save for tho sweet eyes and heavy masses of golden hair. "It's time to go to mil ling, Frank," said a queielous voice from the depths of the great arm-chair in tho corner. "In my days gals didn't stand stargazing-, and the cows waiting to be milked." Francis put some more fuel on the fire, took down the wooden pails from the -'dress er," and went out. The cows were not in the yard ; she had to go down into the pas ture, through the damp grass and across the swamp, and drive them up. Ino, her little gray and white kitten fol lowed her. She stooped to pat the silken head, lifted for its accustomed caress. "You are all I have now, Ino. There are only you and T, she said, half sadly. Ino climed to her shoulder and laid his soft head against her cheek. After all, there is more sympathy in the brute creation than we dream of. God knows we all see through a glass so darkly that our wise judgment is a tiling of error. Francis hugged him tight, then put him down and went to her work. She had fin ished , and was putting up the bars—slopped to listen to a bi'ated whippoorwill, that foiv getting his natal June bad long passed, was disturbing the silence of the October twi light. A quick step crushed the crisp grass be hind her, Squire Evelyn took the foaming pails from her hands. "They are heavy for you, Frank; Ist me can y them." Ino ran away, and s >ught refuge in the old oak b f rn the door. Francis foil jived ihe Squire into the dairy. He set the pails u wn and touch- U her arm, "(J rue out a moment, 1 wish to speak with you." "\Yiil you not go into the house ?" "No, it is a freer atmosphere outside." He drew her to a seat beneatfs the oak, decayed and old—her dead father had placed it there for her when she was a mere child. Squire Evelyn took her hand in his, and his naturally stern voice Softened as bespoke —"Francis, have you ever heard aught against my character ?" •She looked at him with surprtec. "Never, The whole town knows your upi ightness. "Thank you. I asked you the question, because I want to ask you another of far greater moment to me. Francis Haley will you be my wife ?" She started back from him, flushing to the very edge of her hair, Even in the dim light he saw the swift rush of color. "Do not decide hastily, as I see you are about to do. I want your answer only after mature reflection. Understand mc fully I am forty-five and you are twenty-four— twenty-one years'difference. I am rich and you arc poor ; and you are killing yourself with hard work, while I, a strong man, live at my ease. Yet, do not think I would inar ry you because I pity you. Far from it. T am not so unselfish. I want a wife. 1 know no other woman for whom I could feel sufficient respect to give her that place —none save you. You know something of my early life. , You know that I have lived single until middle age, because she whom I loved in youth fled from me to the arms of another. And last of all, Francis, I love you. Not with a young mau's passion, but with the strength of riper years—you only utteily and entirely. And now I give you a week to decide. Think of the life that lies before you—think of the helpless woman you will care for so nobly to the end—think of all the burdens your slight shoulders must bear, and remember how more thar, willingly I would carry them all for you. Next Saturday night 1 shall be here for my answer. lie pressed the he held, almost shud deting at its iciness ; folded the shawl she was leting slip to the ground, over the pas sive form of Francis, and loft her to herself. She leaned back against the tree, her eyes looking straight forward into tho gathering gloom, but seeing only inward. Ino came down and purred around her now that the stranger was gone, but he gA no answering caress from bis mistress. Francis was thinking—thinking deeply . She took in the subject fully. She was weighing jit in all its bearings, just as he had told her to do. Poor; ye 6, so she was, her only heritage the few acres of barren land, and the dilapi dated old homestead, where the brief, happy life of'her parents had been spent. She thanked God sincerely that they had died before the evil days had come. The proper ty her lather left was ample ; but his only 6on, and her brother, was a reckless spend thrift, and at the early age of twenty he had squandered everything save this poor home, and that had been bequeathed to Francis solely. Five years previously—Francis shivered as she recalled it—George Haley had boon miss el from his home. Three weary days—oh, 6uch desolate, fearful days!—the 6earch went on, and then—they found him early one Novembor morning, stark and dead— drowned in the sluggish stream that skirted the farm. Whether he met death accident ally, or whether he took his wretched life into his own hands and sacrificed it, God only knew ! After that, Francis led a dreary life. Iler grandmother—so 6he called her always, though she was in fact only the step mother of Francis' mother, was a sour tempered woman, given to fault-finding; and, being nearly helpless from a paralytic shock, was a sad burden on the feeble strength of the girl. True, Francis might have renounced her, and let the town look after its poor, but such a thought never entered her mind.— The sense of duty was strong with her. She must meet that old Woman, one day, before the face of G d and the angels, and she wait t-d to be able to stand up with unshrinking eyes and tell them that she had done what she could. To night she reviewed tho painful pan a nd then she looked into the future. Oh. how gaunt and grim it appoarod to her; She was beyond her first girlhood. Care had made her old before her time. Already the gay, rosy village girls called her an old maid. She looked still a little beyond, and raw her life going down to the grave—alone, uncheered, uncared for. No voice of kindred to soot lie her, no pitying hand of affection to smooth the cold forehead which death had touched with hi> frozen lips. But it was not so much dying alone—for God would hi, there—it was living without love that she dreaded. Years ago, in her shy, girlish heart, she had dreamed of the time when she should have a lover. That time had just come to her, b it oh, now sadly different fn in what she had pictured. She had received her fir-1 offer, probably her last. Sie looked at the decaying, glo -my old house before her, an i th -u At of Evelyn lid! with its snnny {• rti -.s i; s spacious cham bers, the gran inao rial trees around it, and lastly of its generous ma-ter, Francis knew Evelyn for more than kind. She reinembeicd whose hand had put flow ers on the Coffin of her erring brother, and had drawn her away from the new made grave to remind her that life still had duties for her, and still claimed of her exer tion. Do not blame her if she thought of ail these things, if they influenced her decision. She was a woman, with a woman's hunger for love and care, and if she sinned, it was. only because nature craved it for her. She went into the house fully decided, and when, a week afterwards, Squire Evelyn came for hea reply, she met him at the door. "I will marry you," she said quietly, but do not ask tne yet for love. I, wbo know so little of it must wait to learn." "God help you in the lesson !" he said, fervently, and kissed her. So they were bo trothed. CHAPTER 11. Squire Evelyn listened to the expressed wishes of Francis, and the wedding-day was deferred to tho first of May. She wanted to get familiar with the thought of the now life she wa- to begin, she said. She had very little care now, thanks to the oversight of her lover. A trusty woman managed the household affairs, and laborers from the Hall kept the farm in good order. The Squire catne down daily, directing Fran cis' reading, walking with her, or taking licr to ride over the wild, bleak country. II >w very kind and tender lie was she hardly dar ed to think, when she remembered that her heart never beat quicker at its approach, nev er her pulse thrilled when his hand touched hers. She was too old for such manifestata tions, she said, guiltily. Early in March, a visitor came to tlie Hall, Max Chesney, from New York the Squire's nephew. Max was a physician of great promise; and too severe attention to the du ties of his profession and ■somewhat disturbed his health. He had come down for a breath of the fresh aif of Eveh n, and a month's rec reation. As a matter of course, the Squire brought him to see Francis, his aunt that was to be. He wanted the two to be very goods friends. Max was his favorite nephew, and his tastes were much like those of Francis'; he was 6ure they woulj get on together So it happened that the two young people were almost constantly in each others society. Max wasjbut one year her senior, gay, hand some, generous, and high sorf'ed. Before she had been a week in his presence, Francis found out whether she- was to old and grave to love. Kis step would crimson hor face with blushes, the touch of his fingers on hers thrilled her for hours afterwards with a sub tic sense of delight. She awoke with a sort of helpless horror. She coul'd not speak and send him away, for her lightest word would reveal that 6he had given her heart unsougnt. So the farce went on. The Squire still played the generous lover, and was genial and hippy ; Francis grew pale and wretched and Chesney was never at ease. They mutually avoided each, Francis Chesney but one day in April they met on the fieles, a couple of miles from home, Francis had been search ing for blue violets, Chesuey had been down ints the coal mine to look at the operations of the miners. , He had just emerged from the shaft when Francis paused. Ho spoke to her,telling her something of the gloomy darkness below. Some impulse moved her to go and look down the shafl. 1 1 should like to look up at this," she said inadvertently. The miners had just come up to dinner One of them overheard her. £ 'Nothing easi er, Miss," he said, touching his cap, "we let down dozens of ladies every week. Just step into the basket, and you can go down and back again i n a moment." She stepped in; Chesney followed her quickly. She would have stopped him, but it was too lute. The cord was being rapidly unwound. They were descending swiftly.— They touched the bottom, and, looking up. s.w only the minute circular hole filled with daylight. Chesney spoke to his companion. "Will you get out and look lather." "No, no ! she said with a shuer. Let us go back instantly." He put up his hand to giie the signal of return to those above, but it fell back pow erless to his 6ide. A pale blue flash of light illuminated the blackness—there was a noi-e as if the solid universe were rent—a fearful sense of suffocation li led the air, and then afar off they heard the rush and gurgle of water. "G od God !"' cried Chesney—"the fire damp." Frances clung to liitn blindly—she forgot in that terrible moment of peril,the existence of John Evelyn—forgot ever3*thing but that she loved better than life or hope Max Ches ney. Max realized everything at a glance,— To hope for aid from above was futile.— The whole shait had been filled up. The only avenue to safety wa- cut off. The best he coul i do was to labor f r a lew in re in >— mc-nts of life. It would end in lcatheven t ually. He lined Francis some feet above to a shell of rock, anu climbed up besido her. She clung to him like a child—he took her into his arms and soothed her as if he had been a very babe. She spoke at last, quietly ho started to hear her. "1 am not afraid, Max. I am only hap py," He clasped her convulsively. "Francis, darling ! May I speak now ? Oh, I have loved you from the very first, but 1 tried to be honorable for his sake. lie is to noble, and 60 generous. But now il is no wrong to him to understand each other, Ki>s me, Ftankie." "On the other siJe," she said simply. "In this worl dmy lips belong only to bim. (Have patience a little longer. He acquiesed, and restraining the impulse that ci aved her close against bis breast, he only sat with his arm around her, her bauds in his. It seemed ages to them, but it was only a few moments, ere the terrible stillness that had come upon the place was broken by a dull thud. The very darkness quivered and danced before them ; a second and a third stroke, and a mass of earth fell over them from above, stunning and blinding ibern, and then a breath of heaven's own air swept in a ray of sunshine dropped its gold into the gloom. The miners had broken in the top of the mine, and they were saved. A rope was let down—Chesney fastened it around the waist of Francis—she was drawn up, and he speedily followed. But when full of joy, he sprang forward to lift her up. she sank a dead weight-in his arms—without life or mo tion. Long weeks of anxious watching elap.-ed before Francis Haley rallied, and they knew that she would live. All through the spring months she lay in the grout guest chamber, at the hall, whither they had carried her—lay quietly, taking no notice, and uttering no word of complaint or recognition. Squire Evelyn watched over with the ten derness of mother for her child. Ilis face was tho first togreet her return to conscious ness—and his eyes the first to drop on her wan face the tears of gratitue. She turned uneasily. "The mine, Max !" She whispered faint iy- " You are safe with me, Frankie, dear. And Max has been here all the time. He will come 6OOQ-" ~ : TEIXI-IVISts S2-00 3PZEXI. UAC Obedient to his uncle's eager summons, Max did come in. lie took the hand of Francis, muttered a few incoherent .words intended for a congratulation—fled from the room,mounted a horse, aud was abseut all day. "There's no accounting for the conduct of such a hot headed fellow as Max, said the' Squire, meditatively. "Why, Frankie, dear, when we thought you would die, it seemed as it the boy would go wild, and now you are better, he takes it a8 coolly as an iceberg. Well,well, Max's heart is right." Francis mended slowly. She remained at the Hall. There was nothing to call her home now,for her grandmother died while Francis was lost to the world. June came, mild, and rich in clou dies skies Francis went down stairs for the first time one soft bright morning. The Squire was undr the necessity of going to the next town od buiness, and he exacted a promiße, unwill ingly enough giving, from Max, not to leave her during his absence. "Max will stay with you, and don't get lonesome, dear. He stooped over and kissed her. Max colored hotly. Francis gave no sign. T.he Squire withdrew, and for little time there was silence. Then the girl spoke— "Max you are an honorable roan"- "Oh, Frankie !" he begin, passionately, "Ilush ! do not tempt tne. God knows l I want to do my duty. But lam weak, and you must help uie with your strength. Max you must go away from here. At once. I cannot k-?ep up this wretched disguise before him, so generously unsuspecting. Go away, Max,where I shallnot see you again,and with Heaven's help I will be true to him to whom ray plighted word is given." Max came forward and touched? her hand. "God Liess you Frankie, and pity us both Good by." He was opening the door, when the Squire stepped out from the folds of a curtain, and drew him back. Evelyn's face was pale but his fine eyes glowed with the light of a gen crous purpose. "XJ, my boy," lie said, his deep voice bro ken by emotion, "you are not going away. Unwittingly I have been a listener. 3-came brek fir some papers, but you did not ob serve my presence. Many things that I did not hitherto understand are now clear to tnei I have been an old fool ! Frankie, you ldvo him. aud he loves you, and your two lives shall not be wrecked by the selfishness of an old fellow like me. I have lived without love forty-five years—it will only a little while longer. Max put 1 :s arms around his uncle's neck. The old man's eyes grew moist. "There, there, M.x ! dou't offer to kiss uk 1 Kss i\ auk,r. an 1 remember, no fool ish pride. I give her to you. He w•. at out of the room and left them together. Went out ii;to the bright sunshine ami thought it neverhad seemed so goldenly bright as then. lie was a little sad, but his heart there fell a gieat calm of peace. He went down the flower bordered path to the honeysuckle arbor at the foot of the gar den, The tall, graceful form of a lady in half mourning, stopped his progress. She threw back her veil revealing a face pale and worn, yet singularly sweet Johu Evelyn shook like an aspen as he saw that face, and shrank back against the trellis for support. "John, said a soft voice wiih an undertone of infinite sadness, "do yon know use?" "Annie— Annie Brest, why have you su— turned to torture me ? Is it not enough that you have made my life loveless—my" "I have come back to tell you how deeply you wronged me. Sit down and listen." He yielded to her touch, and there in the warm sunshine of that June day, he heard the story of her life, of letters intercepted by a wily rival suitor—of cuuuing forgering, stinging he r womanly pride to madness—of maiden pique which had, in a moment of de spair,driven her to be the wife of a man she did not love. He listened like one iu a dream —listened while she cleared herself from all spot or blemish ; and he anew it, at last, that the young Anuie he had so deeply loved, was never false to him. "And where is your husband ?" he asked when she had done. "Two years dead." He gathered her up in his arms. "My Annie as of old ?" "If you will take her," she said softly. So at the end of that bright summer there was a double wedding at Evelyn Hall—the Squire rejoiced in the yonng love of his youth and Dr Chcsnry married the woman who was to have been his aunt. 1 correspondent qf a Boston pa per says he has visited the great falls on the Snake river, the southern folk of the Oregon. A breadth of water of 2 500 feet falls a dis -1 tant of 200 feet iu one sheet, above whichis a minor fall of 25 or 30 fjut. IJe has many times visited Niagara, but pronounces these falls far more grand. Unfortunately thej are too far away for a summer trip, ffry "I'll pay your bill at sight,"said the blind man to the doctor, who in vain attempt ed to cure him of blindness. - -7 . car You should never w ink at faults, I and not too often at the ladies. .llli u VOL. 4 NO. 30
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