5
FU/3145/lED -Y
SATURDAY Nvi.N.ING,
AT ONE DOLLAR A-YEAR,IN ADVANCE,
OR, $1:25 9h. YEAR.
OFFICE FRONT-Si.,
A DV IiRTISE
.A large additi,
ment of "
ment enables
line With nei
low prices.
WILL STORY.
A FRENC
" Is she dea
"Yes m'ada
tlemaa le al
A en ?'
r," replied a little gen
rown coat and short
breeches.
" And be ?"
" Is go's to be opened here immedi
ately by r solicitor."
we inherit anything ?"
"It st be illupposed so; we have
claim
o is this miserable dressed per
who intrudes herself here 1"
8013 a
she," said the little man sneer
; " she won't have much in the
.she is sister to the deceased."
What: that Anne who wedded in
2 a man ofnothing—an officer !"
`Precisely so."
" She mast have no small amount of
mpudence to present herself here, he
bre a respectable family."
"The more so as sister Egerie, of no
ble birth, had never forgiven her for that
Anne moved at thin time across the
room in which the family of the de
ceased were assembled. She was pale
her fine eyes were filled with tears, and
her face was furrowed by care with pre
cocious wrinkles.
" N hat do you come here for ?" said,
with great haughtiness, Mad. de Ville
boys, thu lady who, a moment before,
had been interrogating the little man
who inherited with her.
" Madame," the poor lady replied with
humility," I do not come here to claim
part of what does not belong to me;
ame solely to see 111.. Dubois, my poor
: ieter's solicitor, to inquire if she spoke
f me at her last hour."
" What ! do you think people busy
bemselves about you ?" arrogautly ob
erved•Madatne de Villeboys ; " the dis
grace of a great house—you, who wed•
ded a man of nothing, a soldier of Bona•
parte 1"
"Madame, my husband, although a
child of the people, was a brave soldier,
and what is better an honest man," ob
served Anne_
At this moment a venerable peraon
age the notary Dubois, made his ap-
i)carauee.
"Cease," he said, !` to reproach Anne
with a union which her sister has forgiv
.en her. A 111.10 loved a generous, brave
..anitgood man, who had no other crime
'to trephoach himself with than his pover
ty and .obscurity of his name. Never
theless, had lie lived, if his family had
known lian as 1 knew him, I, his old
Anne would he at this time haji-
•
py anti resproted."
" But why is this woman here?"
"13ecause it is her place to be here,"
t-aid the notary gravely; "1 myself re
quested her to attend here."
M. Dubois then proceeded to open
the will :
1 being sound in mind and heart,
Egerie du Duinfremidg,retized as a boar
der in the convent of the Sisters of the
Sacred Heart Jesus, dictate the follow
lug wishes as the expression of my for
mal desire and principle clause of my
testament :
" After my decease there will be
found two hundred thousand francs in
money, at my notary's, besides jewelry ,
clothes and furniture, as also a chateau
worth two hundred thousand francs.
"In the convent where I have been
residing, writ be found my book,' lieu
res de la Vierge,' holy volume, Which
remains as it wus when I took it with
me at the time of the emigration. I de
sire that these three objects be divided
into three lots. •
-.The first lot, the two bu.tilred thou
sand francs in money. it
"The second lut, the chateau, furni
ture and jewels.
The third lot, my book, ' Meares de
la Vierge.'
"I have pardoned my sister Anne the
grief which she has caused us, and I
would have comforted her sorrows, if I
had known soouer of her return to
France. I compromise her in my will.
Madame de Yilleboys, my much be
loved cousin, shall have the first choice.
" M. Vatry, my brother-in-law, shall
have the second choice.
"Anne will take the remaining lot."
'• Ali I alt :" said Yatry, " sister Ege
rie was agood one ; that is rather clever
ou her . part."
" Arkle will only have the prayer
book !" exclaimed Madame de Ville
boys, laughing aloud.
The notary interrupted herjocularity.
Madame," said he, " which lot do
you choose 2"
" The two hundred thousand fr
mouey."
Have you quite made up your
mind ?"
• " Perfectly 'so."
The man of law addressed himself then
to the good feelings of the lady, said :
" Madame, you are rich and Anne
has nothing. Could you not leave this
UAL RATES
:ICTIICG depart
" establish
king in the Job
'b, and at Tery
Prcprietc)r_
VOL. 8.
lot, and take the book of prayers which
the eccentticity of the deceased hus
placed on air with the other lots!"
"You must be joking, M. Dubois,"
exclaimed Madame de Yilleboys ; " you
must really be dull not 'to see the inten
tion of sister Egerie in all this. Our
honored cousin foresaw,full well, that
her book of prayer would fall to the lot
of Anne who had the last choice."
" And what do you conclude from
that 7" inquired the notary.
I conclude that she intended to in
timate to her sister that repentance and
prayer were the only , help that she had
to expect in this world."
As she finished these words, Madame
de Villeboys made a detinate selection
of the ready money for her share. Mon
sieur Vatry; as may be easily imagined,
selected the chateau, furniture and jew
els as his lot.
" Monsieur Vatry," said M. Dubois to
that gentleman, "even suppose it had
been the intention of the deceased to
punish her sister, it would be noble' on
your part, millionaire as you are, to give
up at least a portion of your share to
Anne, who so much wants it."
'• Thanks fur your kind advice, dear ,
sir," said lratry ; " the mansion is situ
ated on the very counties of my woods,
and suits me admirably, all the'more so
that it is already furnished. As to the
jewels or sister Li'gerie they are, reminis
cences which one ought never to part
with."
"Since it is so," said the.notary," my
poor Madame Anne, hero is the prayer
book that remains to you."
Anne, .attended by her son, a hand
some boy with blue eyes, „ took her Sis=
ter's old Prayer-W * 6k, and waking her
son kiss it after her, she said,:
" Hector, kiss this book, which be
longed to your poor aunt, who is dead,
but who would have loved you well, had
she known you. When you have learned
to read, you will pray to heaven to wake
you wise and good like your father was,
and happier than your unfortunate mo
ther."
. The eyes of those who were present
were filled with tears, not Withstanding
their efforts to preserve an appearance
of indilTurevee.
The child embraced the old book with
boyish fervor, and opening it afterward,
he said : " alumina, what. pretty
pictures 1"
Indeed!" said the mother, happy in
the gladness of her buy,.
"Yes. •The good Virgin in a red dress
holding the infant Jesus in her arias.-
3ut mamma, why has silk palter been
put upon the engravings ?"
"So that they tuight,not„ be injured,
my dear,"
Buit mamma, why are there ten silk
papers to each engraving ?" ,
The mother looked and uttering a sudj
den shriek, she fell into the arms of M.
Dubois, the notary,Who addressed these
present, and said :
"Leave her alone, it won't be much ;
people don't die of these shocks-; as for
you, little one," addressing a Hector,
"give me that prayer-book; you will
tear the engravings."
The inheritors withdre*, making va
rious conjectures as to the cause of
Anne's sudden illness, and the interest
which the notary took in her. A month
afterwards they met Anne and her son,
exceeditrigly well yet not extravagantly
dressed, taking an airing iu a barouche.
This led them to make inquiries, and
they ascertained that Madame Anne had
recently purchased a hotel for one hun
dred and eighty thousand francs, and
that she was giving a first education to
her son. The news came like a thunder
bolt upon them. Madame de Villeboys
M. de Vatry hastened to call upon the.
notary to ask for explanation. The
good Dubois was working at his desk.
" Perhaps we are disturbing' you ?"
said the arrogant old lady.
"No matter, I was in the act of set
tling a purchase in the State funds for
Madame Anne."
" What!" exclaimed Vatry, "after
pUrchasing house and equipages, she has
still money to invest."
" Undoubtedly so."
" But where did the money come
from ?"
" What I did you not see ?"
" When ?"
" When she shrieked upon seeing what
the Prayer-book contained, which she
inherited."
" We observed nothing."
" 0 ! I thought you saw it," said the
sarcastic notary. " That prayer-book
contained silty engravings, and each en
F
_~~~.
)
i s '‘
fit altthevnbtnt Vanzebania .Aanal for itt
MARIETTA, J
graving was covered by ten notes of a
thousand francs each."
" Good heavens !" exclaimed Vatry,
thunder struck.
" If. I had only known it !" shouted
Madame .de Vilieboys.
" You had the choice," added the no
tary, "and I myself urged you =to take
the prayer-book, but you refused."
" But who could have expected to find
a fortune in a breviary."
The two baffled old egotiSts withdrew,
their hearts swollen with passionate
envy.
Madame Anne is still in Paris.. If
you pass by the
_Rue L.9.fitte on a fine
summer evening, you.ill see a charming
picture on the first floor, illuminated'by
the pale reflection of wax candles.
A lady who has joined the two fair
hands of her son, and a fair child of six
years of age, in prayer before an old
book of " Bieures de Vierge," and for
which a case of gold has been made.
" Pray for me, child," said the mother.
" And for' who else ?" inquired the
"For your father, your dear father,
who perished without knowing you,
without being able to icive you."
"Must I pray to the saint, my pa
tron ?"
".Yes, my little friend ; but' do not
forget :a saint who watehes us from hea
ven, and who smiles upon us from above
the clouds."
" What is the name of that saint,
mamma dear ?"
The mother, then watering the •fair
child's head with her tears, answered,
" Her name is—sister Eg,erie."
A NOBFE PURPOSE, and the Glorious
Result :—There are as many roads to
fame and fortune as there were gateways
to ancient Thebes. Your ambitious war.
rior is for carying his way with the sa
bre—Your aspiring politician for ma
noeuvring his way by subtlety and con
summate art; but ,there is one broad
grand path to the goal, along which noth
ing base can travel. It is the path set
apart for the march of talent, energy, and
noble purpose, and though full of ob
stacles, it contains none which a great
man cannot sermount. This fact has
been t exemplified in innumerable instan
ces, but in few more forcibility than id
the career of Dr. Ilom,ow,os, of London.
For twenty-five years he may be said to
have been Climbing
—"The steep Nahum Fame's proud temple
shines afar."
scattering blessings at every step. He
appears to have reached the summit at
last. '('he staff upon which he has learn
ed in his ascent has been ADVERTISING,
and by its aid he has not only realized
a world-wide celebrity and a splendid
fortune, but has been enabled to fam
iliarize millions of the sick with the
healing properties of his pills and oint
ment, who would never otherwise have
been benefitted thereby. The victims
of dyspepsia in this country, and unfort
unately their name is legion, have good
cause to rejoice that so wide a publicit'
has been given to the virtues of his pills
through the columnq- of the American
press ; for, if, we are rightly informed,
they have cured and are now curing
more cases of this distressing complaint
than all other medicines combined. We
hear, too, of cures of scrofula and other
external disorders by the ointment, which
if they were not vouched fo'r by the best
authority, we should pronounce incred
ible. These medicines seem to do what
no other advertised medicines have
ever done before. fulfil the promise of
the advertise rents.—N. Y. Police "Ga.
zttte."
A WINDFALL TO A LABORING
The Auburn Advertiser states that 'a
laboring man named Daniel Rogers, who
has been working for the past week for
D. C. Goodrich in laying a cellar 'wall
by the perch, in that city, has received
a letter from Ireland stating that there
is now in the bank of Ireland $260,000
to his credit, from the estate of his
grandfather. It is necessary to give six
months' notice before drawing this, sum
from the bank . . Mr. Rogers expects
soon to go over for his fortune. This
has not been unexpected by Mr. Rogers.
He has had a sum deposited in the
Weedeport Bank some time to pay his
expenses to Ireland whenever the lega
cy should be determined. He will, on
his return from Ireland, settle, with his
fortune, in Auburn.
gEr About ten days ago a terriffic hail
storm passed over the section of country
a little south of St. Aloud.., The hail
stones were about the size of oranges,. ~
kidlurt
26, 1862.
ow Washington Delivered Ilia
Farew AclreJs.
In the National Intelligence, during
the year 1857, was given and an extract
from a letter written by a lady, eighty
years of age, residing in Philadelphia, to
her grandson in IlTashington, describing
the scene at the delivery of this
farewell address. The scene is graphi
cally described, and• we reproduce the
extract as appropriate to the present
occasion.
“When General Washington delivered
his farewell address, in the room at the
southeast corner of Chestnut and Sixth
streets, I sat immediately in front of
him. It was in the room Congress
occupied. The table of the speaker
was between the two windows on Sixth .
street. The daughter of Dr. B—, of
Alexandria, the physician and intimate
friend of Washington, Mrs. H—, whose
husband was the auditor, was a very
dear friend of mine. Her brother Wash
ington was one of the' secretaries of
General 'Washington. Young Dandrid
gre, a nephew of Mrs. Washington, was
the other. I was included in Mrs. H--,
party to witness the august, the solmn
scene. N 11—. declined going with
Mrs. who had determined to go
early so as to secure the front bench.
It was fortunate for N— 0— (afterwards
.Mrs. that she would not trust
herself so near her honored grandfather.
My dear father stood very near her;
she was terribly agitated. There was
a narrow passage from the door of en
trance to the room, which was on the
east, dividing the rows of room benches.
General Washington stopped at the end.
to let Mr.. Adams pass to the chair.—
The latter always wore a full suit of
bright Arab, with. slash, 'or rather loose
cuffs. lie.also wore wrist ruffles. He
had not changed 'his fashion. He was
a short.man with a good head. With
his family he . attended .our church twice
a day.
"General Washington's dress was a
full suit of black. His military hat had
the black cockade. There stood the
Father of his country, acknowledgcd by
nations to be "the first iu war, first iu
peace, and first in the hearts of his
contryinee.” No marshals with gold—
colored scarfs; no cheering. The most
profound stillness greeted hiin, as if that
assembly desired to hear him breath
the homage of the heart. Mr. Adams
covered his face' with' both his hands.
The sleeve of his coat apd his hands
were covered with tears. Every now
and then there was a suppressed sob. I
cannot describe Washington's appear
ance as I felt it—perfectly composed
and self possessed till the close of his
address. Then, when strong men's sobs
broke loose, when tears covered their
faces, then the great man was shaken•
I never took my eyes from his face.
Large drops came from his . eyes. He
looked to the grateful children who were
parting with their father, their friend, !,).
if his heart was with them, and would be
t. he end.
GENeRAL McC,ALL;—After the long
and terrible suspense experienced here
in regard to the fate of General McCall,
we have the gratification of stating that
'a letteihas been received. from him by
Mrs. McCall saying that he is a prisoner
in Richmond. and uninjured. Helves
struck in the breast by a spent ball, the
effvcts of,which were but temporary.—
The general also 'sends word that. he is
quartered
. for. the present
. at the "Spots
wood House," the principal hotel, in
Richmond, and that thus farhe has been
xery liiii'dly"'treated. His Capture is a
source of deep regret, but it is indeed a
source of Consolation to all his friends
that he is safe and well cared for. We
learn that his capture was in this wise :
he had posted one of the regiments
of his division in a particular locality
and during his absence it was moved
without his orders or knowledge. When
be returned from another_ part of the
field the place was occupied by a rebel
regiment, and it, being dark hcrode intO
the midst of the enemy, was surrounded
and'earried to Gen. Lee'e headquarters
as a 'prisoner of war.—West Chester RA.
publican. ,
The probabilities of a draft has
lied 'a curious effect upon the age of
many. Men who have been wearing
wigs and dying their whiskers and pass
ing for thirty-eight or nine years of age,
have suddenly owned up to forty-five,
while,young bucks who have passed with
the girls for twenty, have shrunk to the
other-side of eighteen. . , •
Dollar a Year
LIFE PROLONGED BY Cauu.--The lon
gevity of,the human race is' steadily in
creasing in civilized nations, if statisical
tables can be trusted, and the following
item from the Methodist shows the in
fluence ofgood keeping long life:
"Few men take care of themselves
than the better class of British noble
men. They aim to make life as perfect
as posible—to have as littl e ja.rriug of
of the wheels arid cogs as may be. They,
are—many of them-‘-the hardest work :
ers and the healthiest men in the world;
and it may be truly said .that while one
part of the mankind developes muscle at
the expense of brain, and the other
developes brain at the expense of mus
cle, the British nobleman is the only,
man now living who succeeded in milli- .
vating at once brain and muscle. That
their efforts are successful, here is
pretty evidence. Twenty-four members
of the British peerage died within the
year ISGO, and these twenty four have
exactly completed, on the average, the
full measure of the allotted span .of
human life, the three score years and
ten. They wore as follows : - Viscera
Arbuthnott, 32; Lord Londesborough ,
54; Viscount Southwell, .83 ; Viscount
Gormanston, 84; Lord Oranmore, 72;
Bishop of Rochester, 84; Earl of Long
ford 42; Baroness Stratbeden, 63; Lord
Fitzgera'd, GO ; - Viscount Guillamore, 87;
Baroness Wentworth, 67 ; Earl of Stra
fford, 82 ; Lord I3eistesbury,.Bo ; Arch
bishop of York, 72 ; Lord, Sandys, 58 ;
Lord Elphinstone, 53; Bishop of Wor
cester, 77 ; Earl of Lauderdale, 76 ;
Earl. of Cawdor, 70 ; Lord French, 74 ;
Earl of Leven add Metville, 75 ;IDnke
of Richmond, 79 ;,Earl of Manvers, 82 ;
Earl of Dundoland, 85. Taal of united
ages, 1680 years, which being. divided by
24, gives exactly 70 years to. each. It
would be'diflieult to, find a paralel tothis
in any class of any country in the world.
STRANGE MURDER BSA Cumn.---Ori the
3d inst., a promising son of L. ll.. Marsh
residing in Franklin, Mass., aged only
five years, was thrown into the river by
a young friend, named Sheen, only ten
years of age. The mother missed him
and was assisted . in her search by Shean
who, on the discovery of the body, al
leged that the child fell into the water
accidentally. Marks of violence were
found, however, and. Shears was arrested
and confessed thathe killed the child and
flung him into the , water. The funeral
took place from the Town Gall, and
during the certneouy,Shaeu was brought
in. Mrs: Marsh saw, hirm.and beckoned
him to approach her. As he was led up
to her, she put her arras around his
neck in the most tender way, and ex
claimed, "I forgive you Daniel, for kill
ing my dear little Sammy who is now ao
angel in heaven ; and I pray to God to
forgive you,,too, and make you good boy.
And now tell me Daniel, did little Sam
my call for his mother ?" The boy—
charged with the murder exhibits the
irmost indifference.
➢leans.—A: man by the name of
Gresh was killed at.Galeaburg, 111., on
the . Fourth instant, by a man named
Moore. Moore, being somewhat intox
icated, came up to. Gresh, and, after
shaking.hands with him in a friendly
manner, says to him, "Gresh, I have a
mind to kill you !" To• which Gresh
replied, ."Blaze away," when Moore
drew a knife 'and stabbed him to the
heart, killing him alnioat instantly. INTO
reason can be assigned for the bridal
deed, as the parties had heretofore been
on good terms.
" After all," says a moderdwriter,
"there is something about a wedding
gown prettier than any other gown in
the world !" All the girls will agree to
that. In fact, lots of 'em marry just for
the sake of the new " toggery." To
them the bridal is more attractive than
the bridegroom ; the milliner more in
teresting than the minister. 'Men, how.
ever, take more substantial views- of
things, and would prefer to wed a down,
right pretty girl " without a rag" than
an ugly womanwith as many gowns - as
the .executor found in Queen Elizabeth's
wardrobe ! That's the difference.
tlEr " Cats have hitherto had piar:
mission to mew at night, as thenecessa
ry mew-sic to fill up the paws-es; but a,
late chiuse in the pew-nicipl. regular
tions at New Orleans `forbids fetnales
to convetse -with persons outside, after
dark '—such im-purr-tenences leading to .
needless catastrophes: .. :faina
arrangement.) ' - •
NO. 52.
WILT THOU LOVE ME THUS FOR EVE
Thou gazet, deep and earnest—
Deep and earnest are thine eyes ;
I knew that in our being
There are answering sympathies
I know there dwells upon me
An affection rich and pure,
And ask, with anxious yearning,
"Will it ever, thus endure?"
Quick changes come upon us—
Changes not in our control ;
There are shadows and eclipses,
And dark tides upon the soul.
With tremulous emotion,
I accept thy bounteous score,
But ask, with anxious yearning,
" Wilt thou love me evermore ?"
Thou knowest all my weakness,'
Thou kuowest all my power;
Thou'st read my life, and knowcst
Every weed and every flower;
Ahd if within my nature ,
Ahy gracious gift there be,
I would its brightek radiance
Should transfuse itself to thee.
God knows, no selfish impulse
Draws my heart thus close to thine ;
I would that all thy toiling
Should partake of the divine;
would be wise and perfect,
Living traly; heartily,
That life'S !nose glorious halos
;• , :hould surround and. hallow thee I
`Ana if upon thy iMthwaY
haveicast one tiny ray,—
Made one moment brighter, happier,
13y my life or by my,lay,—
Then thou eaust not love a nature
That is meaner than-my own ;
Thmteanst _level have enjoyment
In a'Snul of lower tone.
So I rest my heart contented,
For, in this clearer view,
I see thou'lt not withold me
Such love as is My due;
And, if some richer math
Win the gift that once was mine,
I must bow my head submissive
To a law of the Divine!
But, with earnest : endeavour,
I would labour by thy side,
Earn the right to be companion,
•tellow-worker, and thy guide;
Thro' all earth's weary turmoil
Keep a loving soul, and pure,
And thy bounties of affection
Will for ever,_ tlius, endure.
LIFE'S QUESTIONS.
BY THE DEAN OF CANTERBURY.
Drifting away
like mote on the stream—
To-dayls disippoustment,
Yesterday's .dream ,
Ever resolWng,
Never to mend—
Such is our progress,
Where is the end'?
Whirling away
Like leaf in the wind,
Points of attachment
Left daily behind ;
Fixed to no principle,
Past to no friend—
Such our fidelity :
Where is the end?
Floating away .
Like cloud on the hill,
Pendulous, tremulous,
Migrating still ;
Where to repose ourselves?
Whither to tend 3
Such"our consistency:
Where is the end ?
, , •
Cry3tat the 'pavement
Seen thiough the'stream ;
REM the reality •
Under the dream.
We may not feel it,
Still we may mend—
irmir We have conquered
Not known tin . the end
Bright leaves may scatter,
Sports 'of the wind;
But stand's to the winter
The great tree behind.
Frost shall nut wither it;
Storms cannot bend
Roots firmly clasping
The rOc± at the end
Calm is the firmament
Over the clorid';
Clear shine the stars through
The rifts of the shroud.
There our repose shall be ;
Thither we tend—
Spi"e of oar wavering,s,
• AppAved at the end
LULLABY,
Now the twilight shadows night
Now the evening lamp is lit ;
Sleep, baby, sleep !
Little head on mother's arm,
She will keep him safe from harm,
Keep him safe and fold him warm ;
Sleep baby, sleep !
Baby's father, far away, v ,
Thinks of him at shut of day ;
Sleep, baby, sleep
He must guard the steeping camp,.
Heark'ning, in the cold and damp,
' For the foernan's stealthy tr'arop;
Sleep. baby, sleep!
He can hear the lullaby,
He can see the laughing eye
Sleep, baby, sleep
And he knows, though we are duin!J,
How we loug to have him come
Back to baby, mother, home ;
Sleep, baby sleep !
Now the eyes are closing up,
Let these little curtains drop ;
Sleep, baby 3 sleep
Softly on his father's bed
Mother lays her baby's head,
There, until the night be fled,
Sleep, baby, sleep !
God, who dry'st the widow's tears,
God,-who calm'st the orphan's feat; 't
Guard baby's sleep
Shield the father in the fray ;
Keep--us all•by night and. day ; -eat
baby, sleet) t tr
-
M