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VOL. XI. NEW BLOOMFIELD, PA., TUESDAY, AUGUST 7, 1877. NO. 31..
THE TIMES.
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The Sunrise Never Failed Us Yet.
Upon the sadness of the sea
The sunset broods regretfully )
From the far, lonely spaces, Blow
Withdraws the wistful afterglow.
So out of life the splendor dies ;
Bo darken all the happy skies
So gathers twilight, cold and stern:
But overhead the planets burn.
And up the east another day
Bhall chase the bitter dark away ;
What though our eyes with tears we wet t
The sunrise never failed us yet.
The blush of dawn may yet restore
Our light and hope and joy once more.
Bad soul, take comfort, not forget
That the sunrise never failed us yet I
HAROLD'S PROMISE.
THE twilight glided softly into the
room. My aunt ceased plying her
needle, let the work drop into her lap,
and, leaning her head upon har arm, sat
in a musing attitude. The summer
breeze came gently in through the open
window and dallied with the gray locks
that fell over her care worn brow. She
lifted her head, and gazed thoughtfully
towards the West, where the last dim
streak of sun-light was fading from the
clouds, t heard a deep-drawn sigh, and
eaw a tear trembling upon her eyelids.
But the gloom deepened in the room,
and presently I could only distinguish
the outlines of her form as she still re
mained seated by the window.
I was then a mere lad of 15 ; but hav
ing been left an orphan at an early age,
and, as a natural consequence,come into
contact with the rough world, had culti
vated the powers of observation to a
greater degree than is usual in one so
.young. Upon the death bed of my pa
rents, my aunt had taken me into her
own family, which consisted of herself
and a son and daughter,some years older
than myself. About four years before
the opening of this story, however,
Charles had left the parental roof to seek
his fortune upon the high seas in a man-o'-war,
and was now expected home
daily by the widow. The little room he
had been wont to call his own, when at
Jiome, was now neatly prepared by the
hands of his sister and mother for his
Teception. The carpet had been newly
dusted and spread upon the floor, and
such ornaments added to the room as
the widow knew would please her son.
Well, therefore, did I know of whom
ehe was thinking at that moment, and
accordingly rose from my seat and glided
from the room, leaving her to her own
reflections. I met my cousin in the
lighted passage, looking flushed and ex
cited. " Oh, Harry," she exclaimed, laying
her soft hand upon my arm, " I saw a
man before it was quite dark, coming
' toward the house with a valise in his
hand, and the thought struck me that it
might have been brother Charles."
u How did he look V How was he
dressed V" I inquired.
" I think he was dressed in sailor's
clothes, but he was so far off that I
couldn't see him very well," she an
swered. At that moment the door bell rang in a
manner which convinced me that none
but a sailor's hand could have pulled the
string.
"That's him I feel it something
.tells me that's him!" exclaimed my
cousin in an agitated voice.
I ran down stairs Into the hall and
opened the door. A tall youth, dressed
1n the man-o'-war style, stepped forth
Into the light.
" Charles Cousin Charles !" I ex
claimed, grasping his hand, which he
shook heartily in return.
" Yes, Harry, I've returned at lant,"
he said, In a voice which Beemed to be
slightly tremulous ; " but where Is moth
er and Bister V Lead me to them."
" I am here.brother, dear brother,"
exclaimed Mary, coming forward at that
moment and springing into his arms.
He imprinted a kiss upon her fore
head, and as he gently released her, I
saw his face flush scarlet, and a tear
trembled upon his eyelid :
"Mother lead me to mother," he
said, in a strange, husky voice, which I
attributed to his emotions.
Mary and I placed ourselves on each
side of him, and taking hold of either
hand, led him up stairs and into the
room where Mrs. Grey was still seated,
but which was now lighted by the rays
of a large solar lamp.
" It is Charles, mother brother
Charles !" exclaimed Mary,as Mrs. Grey
rose from her seat.
The widow uttered a slight scream of
joy, and, darting forward, clasped him
in her arms.
It would be impossible for me to depict
the feelings of all present on that memo
rable night. I can only say that I have
never since felt such pure happiness as
upon that occasion.
It seemed as though Mrs. Grey would
never tire of looking at the returned
wanderer. She drew her chair close up
to his side, and gazed upon his hand
some countenance with a mingled ex
pression of maternal fondness and pride,
only known to the mother's heart while
ever and anon she would murmur:
" Is it possible that I behold you once
more 'i How you have changed. I had
never thought you would have made
such a handsome man. But four years
will make great alterations."
His sister sat upon the opposite side,
with one of her tiny hands resting upon
his Bhoulder, while he was recounting
some of his adventures, which he did in
a tremulous voice. I noticed that he
turned pale and red by turns, while en
countering the gaze of his iuother,whlle
his whole frame trembled ; but this I
attributed to the joyful emotions he felt
at finding himself at home.
Well did he deserve the name of hand
some.' His frame was cast in that mold
best formed for strength, activity, and
the endurance of hardships. His eyes
were large, dark, and full of fire. His
brow expansive and his features regu
lar. His lips were expressive of courage
and determination, and his sun-embrowned
cheeks, tinted with the bright
hues of health. Well might the widow
be proud of such a son.
' Don't you wish to see Helen V" I
heard his sister murmur in his ear.
" Oh, she will be so glad to see you."
I saw Charles give a sudden start and
turn pale, while he answered :
" Yes, sister, I would like very much
to see her. But has she been true to me P
Has "
" Oh, brother," said Mary, looking at
him reproachfully, " how can you ask
such a question V She has done noth
ing but think and talk about you ever
since you have been gone. She has al
tered very much, and I think for the
better. But you can judge for yourself;
we will go and see her to-night."
" I I would rather wait till morn
ing, I should think it would be a better
time," answered Charles, looking
down.
I have already stated to the reader
that I was, at that time, just 15 years of
age, and of course considered myself
competent to judge upon all love mat
ters. I therefore came to the conclusion
that Charles must have been a very in
different lover, to speak of waiting un
til morning to see the object of his af
fections, after au absence of four years
from the said object.
That Mary was of the same opinion, I
have no doubt; but I have no right to
pry into the thoughts of any lady upon
such matters, and shall not attempt it
in the present instance.
The next morning, just after the sun
had dried up the dews from our path, we
set out, one and all, with the exception
of Mrs. Gray who wished to add a few
more little ornaments to the room of her
son before be returned.
As we approached the house of Helen
Green, we saw that beautiful young lady
already up and in the garden. 6he was
evidently gathering flowers to make a
nosegay ; but as we approached she ran
towards us. An examination of Joyful
surprise broke from her Hps when she
perceived the young sailor, and upon
Mary's informing herthnt it was Charles,
she obeyed the Impulse of her heart,and
running into the arms opened to receive
her, hid her blushing face in his bosom.
The scene affected me very much ; but
I thought Charles took it very coolly,
and disengaged her from his arms a
great deal sooner than I would have done
under the same circumstances. He then
turned all sorts of oolors, and seemed
ready to drop to tho-earth,whlch actions
seemed rather unaccountable to me, as
such an agreeable encounter exhlllrated
my spirits in the highest degree. We all
then entered the house, where Charles
received the congratulations of Helen's
parents upon his safe return. Seated by
the side of the blushing maiden, he an
swered the many questions respecting
his health, the voyage, and so forth,
with a great deal more patience that I
could have done with such a beauty as
Helen by me. I had never seen her look
so lovely and so- happy as upon this oc
casion. Her bosom heaved with emo
tions, her large dark eyes were fixed at
Intervals, with the utmost tenderness,
upon the countenance of her lover, and
her rich brunette skin was tinged with
the deep flush of happiness. She was
only two years older than me, but, I
am sorry to say, she took no more notice
of me than if I was not in the room,
which conduct on her part made me feel
very Indignant, although I was too much
of a man to show it. But I could not
help running my hand defiantly over
the down which, with the aid of a tele
scope, might have been detected upon my
upper Hp. My indignation, however,
did not prevent me from noticing all
that passed between the two lovers
which, by the way, was not much. I
did not see him look at her more than
once, and then It was with the mournful
expression of pity in his eye, which
the occasion did not seem to warrant.
I could see nothing about Helen to
pity ; she appeared perfectly happy and
contented.
At last I saw Charles bend down his
head and say something to her In a low
tone. Helen then arose, and tripping
to her mother's side, said she was going
to take a walk with Charles, to which
her mother gave a willing consent. The
young lady was good enough to invite
Mary to accompany them, but Mary de
clined the Invitation, with a smile that
went to my heart. I expected she would
have extended the like civility to me,
and was making up my mind to accept
it, when she brushed by the place where
I wnr seated, without giving me a glance,
and left the room in company with my
man-of-war cousin.
" She's wonderful proud all at once,"
thought I. " I think Mary is the pret
tiest, after all I"
My cousin was a blonde, with deep
blue eyes, waving curls of glossy brown
hair, and a form which gracefully united
the airy lightness of girlhood with the
full rounded proportions of the woman.
Her skin was of dazzling whiteness, al
though her cheeks were tinted with the
rosy hues of beauty and health. Her
step was as light as the fall of a snow
drop, and her teeth I can only compare
to little white-robed fairies looking forth
from a red rose, to which flower her full,
pouting lips bore a striking resemblance.
She was just the same age as Helen, and
I had of late entertained serious thoughts
of proposing in due form. I only waited
the completion of an elegant dress coat
which the tailor was already engaged In
making for me, and which I thought,
together with my gold watch chain,
would give me a more manly and irre
sistible appearance.
But to proceed with my story.
In about half an hour Charles and
Helen returned from their walk, and
had no sooner entered the room than
the latter sank into a seat, with a deep
drawn sigh. I noticed that she was
pale and trembled exceedingly. All her
former Joyousness seemed to have de
serted her, and there was a redness about
her eyes, as though she had been weeping-Charles
had a restless mournful ex
pression which fairly made me pity him
from the bottom of my heart.
Helen's parents had left the room a
moment previously, and Mary and my
self were accordingly the only ones-who
witnessed these notions. The young- girl
looked aMemately from one to the other
In the utmost surprise, and finally stole
tenderly to Helen's side, and inquired
what was the matter.
" Oh,. don't ask me, dear friend don't
ask me!!" exclaimed Helen, and then
bursting Into tears, left the room.
" Mary, let us go," said the young
sailor, in a husky voice.
" Oh,. Charles, tell me first whatite the
matter with Helen," answered; Mary,
pleadingly.
" Not now some other time I) cannot
lnform.you now," said Charles, and I
saw a tear stealing down his heek.
"Come, let us go," he continuedi
We l-ft the house and started foe-home
by the same path which we camei. Mrs.
Grey was standing, on the threshold to
receive us, looking ten years younger
than she did some months before.
Time passed on. Nearly a year had.
elapsed since the return of Charles, and
In tltat short period Helen Gfeen had
been laid to rest In the village graveyard..
Ever since that morning walk with
Charles she had been gradually, though
surely, sinking into the tombt Her spir
its had become depressed in, an unac
countable manner. The gay, light-hearted
smile had faded with the- color from
her cheek, which grew tbiti and wan.
Her form lost its full rounding propor
tins and wasted away. la fact, she was
but a shadow of her former- self.
When questioned by those anxious and
heart stricken friends who beheld her
gradual decay, she would wily answer in
agonized tones :
" Don't ask me, for I cannot tell you.
I only wish to die."
Long and vainly did Mary attempt to
cheer and restore her friend to something
of her former loveliness ; but she was
forced to behold her clay after day,fadlng
before her, without being able to relieve
her.
" Oh, Helen!" she would sometimes
say, "surely you cannot wish to die.
Think of Charles you once loved
Charles."
Then it was that Helen would seem
dreadfully agitated, and sometimes ex
claim in tones of heart rending anguish:
" Oh, heavens!. Mary, mention not
that name again ; he he is I Oh, God 1
would that I could die this moment I"
The extraordinary change wrought in
the appearance of Helen became the talk
of the whole Tillage, and many opinions'
were held concerning it by the gossips.
She had been delected once or twice by
myself during some of her solitary ran,
bles in drawing from her bosom and
frantically kissing a small miniature,
This circumstance, however ,1 had never
mentioned to a living soul. At length,
as I previously remarked, death put an
end to her troubles, and she was lament
ed by all who had previously been ac
quainted with the purity and goodness
of her character.
Three months afterward there occur
red another funeral. My aunt had for
some time been afflicted with a bad cold,
which, finally settling on her lungs,
caused her death. She died much re
gretted by all, and especially by myself,
who had learned to regard her as a
mother.
A week after this melancholy occur
rence, as my cousin Mary and I stood
side by side on the balcony, Charles ap
proached us. His countenance was at
once grave and sad.
" Mary," said he, " I have an Import
ant secret to communicate a secret
which since the death of our mother, I
am at liberty to divulge. Know, then
that I am not your brother 1"
"Not my brother! Good Heaven,
Charles, what do you mean V" exclaimed
Mary, turning pale, and looking at him
aghast.
" Listen," continued the speaker, sad
ly. " My real name is Harold Warren.
I was the true friend and shipmate of
your brother when he died of a violent
fever on board the frigate. We had al
ways been very confident together, and
related to each other the separate histories-
of our lives. He had frequently
spoken to me of you and Helen, and had
shown me each of your photographs. On
his deathbed he begged a most singular
promise from me which I swore to fulfil
to the letter. That promise was to prac
tice the deception which I have carried
out, in order to spare the feelings of his
mother, who he was afraid would be
hastened to a premature grave if she
should by any means hear of bis- death.
In many respects yous brother and my
self resemblo each othai, he being about
my helghtand having the same complex-.
Ion, and It was by thls-means that the de
ception was the more- easily, practiced.
Before his death he gave me three pho
tographs, two of which contained -the
portrait of himself and Helen, and one
was that of his sister The two former
he charged me to present to Helen, and
acquaint her with his death after hav
ing elicited a protatee of secrecy, from
her Hps on the matter. God knows it
has cost me much naln to execute these
missions, but nevertheless I have execu
ted them all but oe, and that is to pre
sent your photograph to. you, which r
now do. Now, then,"' he continued,,
mournfully, " yo ean aceount for poof
Helen's death. It was during that
morning's walk, about fifteen months
ago, that I comrnttnlcated to her ears
the dreadful Intelligence of your broth
er's death.
During this raeltal Mary had stood
white and motionless as a statue, And
now, tottering back a few steps, would
have faUen, hadnot Harold caught her
in his arms. The excitement of the -moment
threw Mary into a fever, from
which she did not recover for a week,
I noticed wiuh feelings of indignation
that from that time forward my oousln
and Harold were much in each other's
company.. Her manner toward hita had
changed wonderfully since the discovery
that he was- not her brother. She- now
seemed move bashful In his presence
than formeely, while the very sound of
his step brought the rich blood suddenly
to herCheek. And, reader, wuld you
believe it Just as I donned my bran
new dress eoat and beaver, with the in
tention of making the longs meditated
declaration to my cousin, h received a
little "billet tied with a pink ribbon, in
viting me to her wedding with. Harold
Warren.
Advantages of Ciying.
A French physician i, out in. a long,
dissertation on the advantages of groan
ing. and crying In general, and especial
ly during surgical operations. He con,
tends that groaning and crying are two.
grand operations by which nature allays,
anguish ; that those patients who give
way to their natural feelings more speed-. ,
By recover from their accidents and.
operations than those who think. it;
unworthy a man to. betray such symp-
toms of cowardice- as either to groan or. '
cry '
He tells of a man who reduce! his,
pulse from one hundred and twenty-six.
to sixty in the coarse of a few hours, by.
giving full venfc to- his emotions. If
people are at att unhappy about any
thing let them go Into their rooms and
comfort themselves with a loudboo-hoo,
and they will feel a hundred, pec cent.,
better afterwaid.
In accordance with the above, the
crying of children should not be too,
greatly discouraged. If it la systematic
ally repressed the result may be St.,
Vitus' dance, epileptic fits, or some
other disease of the nervous system.
What is natural is nearly always use
ful, and nothing can b more natural
than the crying of children when any
thing occurs to give taem, either physi
cal or mental pain.
A State of heaJth-Md. Banbury
&qw8. A State of suffering 111.
Washington Herald. A fatherly State
V&.Norrislow Herald, An enjoy
able State Qa. Graphic States that
make work for the temperance society
Wis. Ky. Courier-Journal. The stu-
dent's State Conn. A slow State Dela.
An always tight State O-hi-o, Noah's
State Ark. States in constant wonder
O. La I A maid State Miss. North
American. An individual State Me.
A religious State Mass,
Two friends just married were, a
few days ago, discussing rapturously, aa
they congratulated each other on the
merits and charms of their spouses.
Said one : " My wife has got the loveliest
head of hair I ever saw, even on the
hair renovator labels. When she leta
her hair down the ends fall to the floor."
" That's nothing," repUed the other.
When my wife lets down her hair it
all falls to the floor."
3" They that do nothing are in the
readiest way to do that which is worst
than nothing.