(The 3lor(h Bntiicli Ucmncraf. HARVEY SICKIiER, Proprietor. awes —■ ' NEW SERIES, A weekly Democratic daper. devoted to Poll - and Sciences Ac. Pub- 3. ■fcjLjKx BY' HARY Y SICKLBR Terms—l copy 1 year, (in advance) >2-00 is ajt paid within six months, <2.50 will be charged NO paper will be DISCONTINUED, until all er eirages are paid; unless at the option of publisher. ADVERTISING. 10 lines or . J I . / . J ess, make three four, tiro , *\ x , j ® -,u •nesguare weeks weeks mo'th " io t ' l :' no V ar 1 Square" 2 do. 2,0 U. 2,50 3.25' £ 5 ; if £,UO a i n ? •>■! 475' M " '1'0 9,1.0 , c r°- EXECUTORS, ADMINISTRATORS and AUDI TOR'S NOTICES, of the usual length, 5'2,50 OBITUARIES,- exceeding ten lin s, each ; RELI GIOUS and LITER ARY NOTICES, not of genera interest, one half toe regular rates. Business Cards of one square, with paper, $5. JOB WOXIK ef all kinds neatly executed, and at prices to suit he t iines. AH TRANSIENT ADVERTISEMENTS and JOB WORK u.ust be paid for, when ordered. FLTISIURS* DRIFTS. H 9. COOPER. PHYSICIAN A SURGEON • Newton Centre, Luzerne County Pa. Rn.&W E LITTLE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW Office on Tioga TunkhaiuwckPa lUM. M. PIATT, ATTORNEY AT LAW O \\ fiee tu Stark'. Brick Block Tioga'St., Tunk Aaanock, Pa OL, PARRISn, ATTORNEY AT LAW • Offi-e at the Court House, in Tuukhann uek Wyoming Co. l'a. ~ DENTISTRY. DR.L T. BURNS has permanently located in Tuakbur.riix> Borough, anJ respectfully tenders bis professional services lo its citizens Office on second floor, formerly occupied by Dr. Uilrnao v6n3Ctf. £J)F FLUFLJLFR |IOUSE, HARUISRUIKi, PENNA. The undersigned having lately purchased the BUKHLER HOUSE " property, has already com menced such alterations and improvements as will reader this old and popular House equal, if not supe- r j -r , to any Hotel in the City of Harrishurg. A continuance of the public patronage is refpeet ftilly solicited. 7 GEO. J. BOLTON WALLS HOTEL, LATE AMERICAN HOUSE, TUNKHAN NOCK. WYOMING CO., PA. rHTS establishment has recently been refitted an furnished in toe latest style Everv attention Will be given to th comfort and convenience of those whe patronise ibe House. T. B. WALL, Owner and Proprietor . Tunkhannock, September 11, 1961. NORTH BRANCH HOTEL, MKSUOI'PLN, WYOMING COUNTY, PA Win. H. CJOKTRIGHT, Prup'r HAVING resumed the proprietorship of the above Hotel, the undersigned will spare no eflbris fender the house an agreeable place ol sojourn to all who may favor it with their custom. 7 Wrn.H CORTRIGUT. Jane,3rd, 1863 GFRAIIS LOTFL, TOWAKTIDA, PA. P. B- BARTLET, |Lateeft. "IRAIRARIY Horse, ELMIRA, N- Y PKOPR IETOK. The MEANS HOTEL, i one of tne LARGEST •ad BEST ARR ANGED Houses in the country-It I fitted up in the most modern and improved style, a I no pains are spared to make it a pleasant and ft -reeable itopping-placd for all, v 3, n2l, ly. NEW TAILORING SHOP The Subscriber having had a sixteen years pra Aieal experience in cutting and making clothing new offers his services in tiis line to the citizens o nicaoi.SN and vicinity. Those wishing to get Fits will find his shop the aea to gat tbein. JORL, R. SUIT* vt-ljF.O.f D OF Remedial Institute FOR SPECIAL CASES. A'o. 'Bond Street, ,Yen> York. Full information, with the highest testimo nials : also, a Bi>k ou Special Diseases in a seal ed envelope, sent free jgf lit sure and send for them, and you will not regret it ; for, as adver lieing physicians are gene ally impostors, without references no stranger si ould be trusted Enclose a stamp for postage,and direct to DR LAWRENCE 11c. 14 Bonu Street. New York. v6u!slyr, CtT Our Letter A Family Mewing Ma. Vhlrie, with all the new improvements, is tbe best, and cheapest and most beautiful Sewing Machine in the world, No jther Sewing Machine has go mu/h capac-ty for a reat range of work, including the delicate ad iugenious processes of Hemming Braiding, Binding Embroidering, Felling, Tucaing Cording, Gathering, Ac., fcc, The Branch Offices are well supplied with S Twist. Thread, Needles, Gil, Ac,, of the very best quality, Send for a Pamphlet, THE SINGER MANUFACTURING COMPANY. 458 Broadway, New York. Philadelphia Office, mviz sfcviijt! UT STI,EET (SCMR, BITTF.R AND SWEET. BT A. P. U'cOMßi. What is life ? the strangest compound. All contraries nice.? blent. Each propelling and controlling, Through the human finding Tent, Who says Nature is • failure. Or her works are incomplete ? Good and evil hath its uses : Every bitter bath a sweet. Every spring raest hare a summer, Summer will grow sere and bare, Winter weaves with frosty fingers. Garments for the ne*t to wear. Change, decy are written widespread, Man can fin 1 n<> still retreat, By this law be only livetb : Every bitter hath its sweet. Never would the eye of pity Gleam with sympathetic tear But tor misery's broken pleading, Melting on the human ear. What wou d be our social structure? How would man bis brother meet, It there were no need of usercy, Nor a bitter tor a sweet 1 If the world were void of danger, M in no toils, or hopes or fears, Needing not the >elp or counsel. Or the flow of friendly tears, Surely it would be less lovely For the tread of human feet; For 'tis sin, and pain, and sorrew, Brings, through bitter, every sweet. Treubles all are blessings truly, With tbe bosi of fleshly ills ; Richest valley s. robed in beauty, Could not bloom without tbe bills So through life, if we lk rightly On the trials which we meet, We will see their holy lessons ; Bless tbe bitter for the sweet. One but proves the ether's being ; Each must have its opposite ; By contracts only are we measured, Know tbe darkness from the light. Rest is only for the we-ry, Cold is requisite as heat ; Every principle in nature Hath a bitter and a sweet. He who'd taste (he bliss of heaven. Must pass through a fiery hell; He who drains the cupof sorrow, Driuketh at the Parian well. Hunger, want, disease, dispelling, Are but wisdom's law replete; 'Tis a law of the Eternal ; Every bitter hath its sweet. All that's high, and grand, and glorious, Ce.itre here, an t oetiri'J spring ; Life without them would be tasteless, Man a soulless, passive thing Through tbe ever-ceuseless changing That our outward senses greet, Man is ever moving onward, Through the bitter to tbe sweet. All that's noble in our manhood, Everv aspiration high, Every grand essential feature, Teaching oinn he cannot iie, Cometh through this glorious doctrine, All things everywhere repeat, Msktug lite quite worth the living, Having bitter and a sweet. All this talk, that sin and sorrow Were not in God's primal plan, And that toil, disease and suffering Was the efter-work ef man. Must give way to light aod reason, That finds everything complete- All the work of Neture perfect; Every bitter with a sweet- MASTING IN BAVARIA. —The people in BavHiia are not allowed to marry until they have what is termed an ''assured means of subsistence." The law, however ioes not work well, *a will seen by the following remarks of a correspondent; "I have beard of a case of two poor peo ple having to wail fifteen years for permis sion to marry, and spending two hundred Donns on applications. One of the writers <>n the subject gives the following instance: •'An operative earning -welve shillings a week was engaged to a girl earning seven , and owner of a house valued at £l2O, and a cw, They applied for permission to marry, and were refused ; 'm -ans of sub sistence not assured. Time went on They had two children, and still their ap plication was refused on the same ground. The owner of the manufactory look up their cause and pleaded it hitnself with tbe official, saying that by his retusal was not what was intended by the Government. The official replied curtly, "What does tiiat matter to us; the Government may have its own ideas on the subject, but wre have ours, and I in particular am of opin ion that such marriages are neither right nor useful.' The author from whom I quote this adds, "While I am writing, my serveni girl, aged fifteen years, comes in dressed for a feast day, and says that her falhei and mother are to be married to day, and she mast henceforth be called by her father's name. Twelve times her father s application for license to marry was re jected, and each time he had to pay fees and expenses, lawyers bills, PEAK KINDLY. —How much misery may be abated, how much suffering may be removed by the .iraple tone and expression of the human v<*ice! Upon the heart that is lone and desolate how sweetly falls the voice of sympathy and consolation! Why is it, then, since everything proves —and none are ignorant oft he fact—that all must lie down in mother earth together, since all are travelers in this highway to death—' why is it thai each should be So sparing of that which costs him nothing, hut which might raise the drooping spirits of his neigh bor, and cheer hitn on his journey—a few kind words and kindly looks. jg} "I say, Josh, I was going down street 'tother dy and Iseed a bark !" "Lolly, Sam 1 seed it hollow. I seed the same oue leave." " 1 >id it take its trunk with it!" "No, It left t bat for board." •*TC SPEAK HIS THOUGHTS IS EVERY FREEMAN'S Jefferson, TUNKHANNOCK, PA., WEDNESDAY, MAR. 20, 1867- BY MRS. MARY C. IIAZLBT. "No, Mary, you shall never be the wife of George Stanford," said old Mr. Carleton, with a lowering brow, and a determined eye. "And why not," said the gentle Mary, striving to conceal her emotion. "Is he not of a good family ; is he not regarded as a high minded, honorable young roan; are not his business prospects flattering, and is not his attachment to me as strong and sincere as you or I would wish ?'' "Thai mav all be very true, my child; but he has associated himself with a socie ty which daros not to unfold its secret workings to the world, and which the world has never been able to discover as accomplishing any good. In short, Mary, Stanford is a Freemason. "And is that your only objection, fa ther ?" "Is not that a sefficient one !" he said sternly. "Dare you, a mere child, pre sume to arra> your feeble judgment againet my age and experience?" "I do not wish to 'be disrespectful, my lather, but I cannot help thinking you judge Masonry unjustly. I have known, for a long time, that George was a Mason, and this tact has led me to investigate its principle. Elder Williams, who lives next door to ns, is a Mason, and he has atlowed me to read his Monitor, magazines and other Msaonic works ; and if Masonry is what these works describe it to be, it is a good institution, and the world would suf fer from its loss." "You can tell nothing about it by the books they publish. They arc only print ed f.r effect, and to conceal the real cor ruptness of the institution. If there was anything good about it, it would not be k*pt secret, The Bible comraauds men not to bide their light under a bushel." "But, father, the Bible says also, let r.ot thy left hand knoweth what thy right hand doeihand I think I have discovered some good deeds by Masons. There is old Mr, Strong, who lives down by the mill, and who has not beeu able to work for nearly a year. The Masons have ta ken care of him for a long time. They brir.g him provnions and everything elsi he needs, and every night one or two of them come to stay with hira—for he is failing very fast, and it would not be safe to have him alone." "Then he is one of their number, and their caring of him is owing to a species of honor among thieves," said Mr Carleton. "No," said Mary," he is not, and never has been a Mason. He told me so him self only this morning, when I went to sar rv hiin some fruit and flowers, and he said he should have died of want long ago but for their kindness, and he hoped God would bless and reward them. And then," continued Mary, "there is dear Mat tie Dow, whose father belonged to the so ciety, the Masons are sending her to the young ladies' boarding school, and prepar ing her for a teacher. They are paying all ber expenses, and she told me they had cared for bur ever since the death of ber parents, and that she loved them as much as if tltey were her ow brothers. Oh, father !it cannot be that .hose who per form such good deeds are bad men, for a tree is known by its fruits." But old llr. Caileton was not a man to be turned from his purpose. His preju- | dice against Masonry had grown older, and the gentle pleading of his beautiful daughter only served to irritate him. "Mary," he said very sternly, "it is of no ute to talk to me about Masoory ; and it is worse than folly for you to attempt to gain my consent to your marriage with George Stanford. You were eighteen yea's of age yesterday, and can, of course do as you please in this matter; bu. if you dare to disobey uiy wishes you are no longer my child. I would sooner sink my wealtn in the depths of the ocean, or give it to the most miserable beggar in this great city of New York, than bestow it upon a daughter who is so ungrateful as to marry against her lather's will. Choose, therefore, between your father's wealth and love, and George Stanford, the Freemason. I shall expect your decision to morrow morning." Mary Carleton arose and left her fa ther's presence; with slow, unsteady step the sought her own room. She felt that the crisis of her life had arrived, and she not how to decide. Her father had en couraged the attentions of Stanford until within the last few days. Discovering that he was a Freemason, Mr. Carleton had told him haughtily that be must renounce all connection with the institution nr dis continue his visits to the house, Tbs young man had met this unreasonable de mand with ho proper spirit, and firmly, but respectfully, asserted his determination to be a Freemason while he lived He had been ordered from the house, and told nev er to enter it again. Such were the cir cumstances leading to the above conversa tioa between Mr. Carleton aud bis daugh ter, Mary knelt at her bedside, and implored her God to give her strength and wisdom. She felt that her father was in the wrong, but could she meet bis frowns and lasting displeasure? She thought she could not; but there arose before her the vision of her affianced husband, the noble, upright, gen erous George Stauford, and she realized that his loss would cause her a life of mis m* —. GEKT SFORG. THE LETTER "G.** 1 There came a rap at her doo; a servant handed her a sealed note, and departed.— She opened it, and found it to be a few lines from Stanford, inclosing a ring en tirely plain, with tbe exception of the small letter Gon the upper side. The note was as follows: •'MY DEAR MARY :—Your father has forbidden our further correspondence; but both duty and inclination prompt rue to seek acknowledge of your pleasure before conceding to his wishes. 1 love the Ma sonic institution, and cannot, consistently with my feelings, and with my sense of duty and honor renounce iL The ring I send you, is ornamented with the letter G —a Masonic emblem. It you are willing to become the wife of a Freemason, wear the ring for my sake, arid I will protect you while I live; if not, its return will sig nify to me that we must henceforth be strangers. On the following morning, Mary sought the presence of her father. Site was very pale and moved wearily, for sleep had not visited her eyelids. "Well, child," said Mr. Carleton, "I trust a few hours reflection has served to show you your duty, arid that I have this morning an obedient daughter." For reply, she held up her hand upon which was the ring sent her by Stanford. "What means that ring ?" eaid tbe old man starting violently "It means," said Mary in a Voice low, but firm, "that I have decided to wear it while I live, for the sake of Mr. Stanford, who will soon be my husband.' Mr. Carleton was dumb with astonish ment. He had not believed bis daughter would dare to meet his displeasure. Mistaking tbe eause of his silence, Mary advanced to his side, and twining her arms abont his neck, she kissed his cheek. "Oh, father!' she said, "do not, I pray you, turn me from you. You will be lone ly without me, and I canuot enduru your frowns. Let me beg ot you to consider that Washington, Warren, Lafayette,- and the pious Wesley, were masons. Surely that cannot be evil which was honored and loved by so muc't nobleness and tal ent " Mr. Carleton pushed his daughter from him angrily. "Go, foolish child," he exclaimed, "nev er dare to speak to rae again. You have no longer a father or a home." Poor Mary was to wretched to reply ; but the yearning look she cast upon ber father, as she glided, ghost-like, from the room haunted hira years afterwards. In a week she and Stanford were mar ried. With a view to remove his wife from all unpleasant associations, George eraigiated to a western city, and became a partner in a mercantile bouse. His busi ness prospered, and a beautiful house was purchased on tbe shore of one of those crystal lakq? so common iu the West But the tocsin ot war was sounded, and leaving his business in the care of bis part ner, Stanford collected a company of vol unteers, and bidding adieu to bis wife aod infant son, hastened to Washington. It was now Mary Stanford's lot, with thousands of others, to watch eagerly, tor new* from tbe army, to pray for a hus band's safety, and wait for his return. But there came a day when news of a terrible battle went flashing over tne couu try, and a telegram reached the eity of L , stating that Company A had suffered severely, and that Captain Stan ford was among the missing. Gently as possible was Mnrv made to understand that she was a widow ; but the shock was too great for her delicate frame, and for weeks she raved in the delirium of fever. When at length she slowly recovered, it was to find that her husband's partner tad proved recreant to his trust. He had tax ed the credit of the firm to the utmost, by borrowing, and with the money thus ob tained left the country. "Mary's elegant house was hers no long er. She now wrote to ber father, acquaint ing him with her bereavement and mis fortunes, and begged htm to receive her again into the home of her childhood. — Long and anxiously she waited for a re ply, but none came Then ahe determin ed to go to her father, and ia pflEaon en treat him to receive and care for her child, while she would support herself by teaeh ing With what means she had remaining— only about three hundred dollars —she set out upon her journey to New York. She proceeded in safety until she arrived at the city of B . Htre a brief but severe illness of her child detained her for a few days; and when she was ready to proceed, she found that she had been rob bed of all the money she possessed. De prived of the meana of going to her fa ther, she determined to make one more effort to communicate with him. She ad dressed a letter to a gentleman who had been a friend to her father's asking him to inform her, whether he still lived, and if he was iu tbe city.. In a few dajs came a reply to the effect that Mr. Carleton had left New Yoik some two montha previous ly, and that be vas not expected at home for a year, as business would detain him in a distant ciL It now seemed to Mary Stanford that heaven had indeed deserted ber, and she oould only caress her child, that God would interpose in her behalf. There remained but one course for her to pqrsae. She sought for and obtained an humble dwelling in an obscure street; and dispos iog o.f her jewelry and some few articles of wearing apparal, discharged ber indebted ness to the landlord of the W . hotel; and, taking tbe little Willia bj tbe band, set out for her new lodgings with a sad heart. She hoped lo be able to earn a subsistence by her needle, until her father should return to bi home, when she firmly believed he would relieve her sufferings, if not for her own, for his grand-child's sake. Bravely she entered upon her new life. Morning, noon and night found her bend ing over her sewing or embroidery. ller form drooped, her cheek grew paler and Ksler, her eyes were dim with weeping - fo answers came to the many letters she addressed to ber father, and hope at length died out ot her heart To add To her mis ery the winter was at hand, and she was forced to the conviction, that the avails of her needle were not sufficient to supply her wants. But there was no alternative, and with a sort of dumb despair, she still toiled on. The morning of January Ist, 1864, found Mrs. Stanford placing in the grate the last of her little store of fuel. The cold was intense, and she covered closer the form of the sleeping Willie, now nearly three years of age. She knelt by his side, and imprinted kiss after kiss upon his pallid btow. Never before bad she felt as now the meaning of the sunken cheek and blood less lips. She shuddered with a new fear, for tbe conviction that he was slowly starv ing, had fastened itself upon her mind. "Oh, Gud!" she cried, clasping her hands in agony, "hast Thou indeed forsa ken tne ? or art Thou still the widow's support, and the friend of the fatherless ? I pray Thee, stretch forth Thine hand and save my child." Tenderly she laid her hand upon his curling locks, and as she did so, her eye fell upon the ring and the lettei G, which years before she had placed upon her finger as the seal of her destiny. She gazed at it vacantly, as her mind busied itself with the past. Swiftly the various scenes of her checkered life passed in revied before her ; all finely terminating in the misery of the present. What was to be done ? Willie would soon awake, and she had no more bread to appeas his hunger. The fire would soon die out, and then both must perish with cold. The ring must be of some value, and she could sell it and ob tain enough to preserve them a day or two at the h-ast. It was the last article she pos sessed that would procure bread Her' heart gave a great, painful thiob ; but she looked at her child, and her decision was taken. Wrapping a faded shawl around her emanciatcd form, she stirred the expiring fire, and closing tbe door softly behind her, descended into the street, and walked rap idly in the direction of the hgp. where, months before, she had disposed of her jewelrv. Although the distance was short she reached her destination benumbed and shivering, and paused for a moment before tbe glowing grate before making known her errand. An old gentleman enveloped in a great, warm cloak, entered, and ad vanced directly to the counter. "I wish to purchase a bracelet, M a New Year's present for my daughter," he said, cheerily. The shopman placed a case of jewels be fore him, and then turned to his poorer customer. "How much will you g've rae for this ring ?" she said, with emotion. "Its actual value ia but trifling," he re plied ; "it is very old. 1 will give you oue dollar." * Oh, sir ! ia it not worth more than that ?" she said. "It is very dear to me for its associations, and nothing but the most pressing want would induce me to part with iL I pray you give me all it is worth." "1 can give no more," he said, dropping it on tbe counter, carelessly. Mrs, Stanford grasped it, and pressed it to her lips ; then she laid it down rever ently and extended ber hand for tbe tnon ey. The old gentleman who had come to pur chase a bracelet, had listened in silence to this little dialogue between the poor woman and the shop keeper; but he now moved to her side and said, respectfully : "You seem very unwilling to part with this ring, madam ; will you allow mc to ex amine it ?" "Certainly, sir," said Mrs Stanford, pass ing it to him. The man started as his eyes fell upon the letter G. and he asked quickly : "Where did you obt-in this ?" "Oh, sir !" said Mary, "tt was a gift from my husband, previous to our mariiage. 1 prize it very highly, for he is dead, and it is the last motm nto 1 have. But bis child is starving, and it must be sold " "Do you know the meaning of this let ter ?" he said. "No, sir, except that ray husband told me it was a Mason.c emblem, and if I was willing to become tbe wife of a Freemason, I was to wear it for his sake." •'Well, well," said the old man, "I pre sume yon arc in haste to return to your child. I have taken a fancy to this ring, and I will give you more for it than the shopkeeper can afford to give." and placing a ten dollar note in ber hand, be deposited the ring in his vest pocket. "Oh, sir, a thousand thanks, and may heaven bless aod reward yon," said Mrs. San ford, "How far is it to your house ?" said the | gentleman. "Only two blocks distant," she replied. "It is rery cold and I will accompany you, and lend you my cloak," be said kiad ty- Wrapping it carefully around her, he walked by her aide io the direotioa ef her poor lodgings. "I must atop here, and purchase some bread for my child," said Mary. "Very well ; I will wait her- for you.' In a few moments she returned, and they proceeded A single glance at the wretched loomr served to show to the kind hearted old man the full extent >f Mrs- Stanford's poverty. Ifillie was awake, and sat shivering upott his miserable bed. His great hungry eyeff lighted as they fell upon the package hi* mother deposited upon the rickety table, and the only response to her cares* wafey "bread, mamma ; bread !" The old man, standing by the door, waited to hear no more ; and when Marj turned to thunk hitu for his kindness, b® had gone, leaving his cloak behind him. A few moments afterward, Mary opetied her door in response to a loud rap, and found a large basket of coal upon the threshold. The person who brought it had already reached the foot of the stair way. But there could he no doubt for whom the coal wan designed, and Mrs. Stanford's poor house was soon comforta bly warmed, A halt honr later, a supply of provisions arrived in the same mysterious mariner, and the loving mother wept and smiled by turns, as the gr--edy Willie, with hands trembling with excitement, lifted package after package of wholesome food from the basket to the table. At the bottom lay a note which read thus—"Place your trust in God. and He will supply and guard you." On the following evening, Humanity Lodge, No.—, met in regular communica tion, The usual business of the evening having been transacted, an old man arose and said: •'My brethren, you all know a Freema son's duty toward the widow and orphan, especially the widow and orphan of a broth er. At No. 6 E street, lives a poor woman, who was torc-d to encounter the intense cold of yesterdry morning, in the • ffurt to procure food for herself and child, and fuel to keep them from freezing. I have placed them above present want by a sm-dl supply of provisions and coal ; and her landlady, who describes the poor wo man as one who is worthy, and has soetk better days, will care for her until we caa aid hr further. I first discovered her in the shop of a J. w, endeavoring to procure money by the scle of a ring engraved with the letter G. The Jew wouid give her hut a trifle tor it. and 1 purchased it myself. She told me it- was a piesent from her husband previous to Ler mar riage." "Have yon the ring with you ?"' said a< strange voice quivering with emotion. "Yes," replied the old man searching, for it in his vest pocket. ' Auy one who wishes may examine it." The stranger, who was a tall, fine look ing man, but very pile, as if from sickness,, crossed the room quickly and looked ea gerly at the ring. "Oh, heaven !" he excla : mcd, it is Ma ry's ring. Where did you sty, No. 6 E street ? My wife! my poor wife!" He vanished from the room, but the followed. When he readied tha home of Mary, it was to find her Iving in sensible upon her wretched couch, and her husband endeavoring to restore conscious ness by bathing her hrow and chafing the haods hardened t>y toil. Captain Stanford, ot Companv A, had been indeed among the missing, hilt he was not df-ad He had prcss.-d forward in ad* dance of his men. a d fallen wlu-re the, fight as thickest. He had been borne from the firld as a prisoner, by Confederate tidier*, and it was many weeks before an exchange was effected. Then, rewarded tor his bravery, with a colonel s commis sion, but still weak from the ffccts of a severe wound, he obtained a furlough, and hastened to his western home. His wife • had left for New York ; his perfidious part ner had been discovered and arrest?d, and a large part of the money he had purloin ed had been recovered Leaving the case in charge of an attorney, Colon. 1 Stanford followed his wife Searching New York, no trace of her could be discovered. Think ing perhaps she might have ascertained the locality of her father, and gone to him, Stanford resigned his commission and went j again in pursuit, lie finally succeeded in finding Mr. Carlton in St. L<>ui*, prostrated vitli fever, which in a few days terminated fatally. George remained wiih lnm until the last, and ou his death bed, the old man , had repented his unjust treatment of bis daughter, and instructed George to bear to her his blessing. Thinking that perhaps Mary might . have returned home in his absence, ha again sought the city of L . But she was not there, and, half maddened with grief and anxiety, be renewed bit search. But his can