i1 isfeks ul' fell
VOL. XtV.
NEW BLOOMEIEID, PA., TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 18BO.
NO. 38.
THE TIMES.
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THE WORLD AS I FIND IT.
They say the world's a weary place,
Where tears are never dried,
Where pleasures pass like breath on glass
And only woes abide.
It may be so I cannot know
Tet this I dare to say,
My lot has had more glad than sad,
And so It has to-day.
They say that love's a cruel jest ;
They tell of woman's wiles
That poison dips In pouting Hps,
And death In dimpled smiles ;
It may be so I cannot know
Yet sure of this I am,
One heart Is found above the ground
Whose love Is not a sham.
They say that life's a bitter curse
That hearts are made to ache,
That Jest and song are gravely wrong,
And wealth a vast mistake.
It may be so I cannot know
But let them talk their fill ;
I like my life, and love my wife,
And mean to do so still.
Roderick Delano's Will
LILIAN DELANE had Just closed
the great hall-door behind her, and
stood looking at the snow, the first of
the season, which now began to fall
thick and fast.
She wag no great lady, thia heroine of
mine, but only a poor little seamstress.
Yet she had that rare combination of
beautiful features and loveliness of ex
pression, which so few possess ; and
many a wealthy heiress would have
envied her the lithe, graceful figure,
which made even old Parson Grimes
pause and look after her admiringly, as
she went down the street.
" Miss Delane," said a voice at her
side, " this is unkind. Wont you even
bid me good-bye V"
The hall-door had again opened, and
this time to give egress to a young man,
who was the speaker.
" Certainly. Good-by, Mr. Bucking,
ham," said Lilian; but she spoke in a
hurried manner, and hastened her steps.
" It is late, and dark, and stormy.
May I not see you safely home ?"
: " No," replied Lilian, decisively, al
most angrily. " But I thank you," she
added, a moment after, in a softened
tone, "all the same."
"I shall come down and see you,
then ; you can't hinder that. Your
mother, at least, will not shut the door
In my face."
It was New Year's Eve, and Lilian
had various articles to buy ; so that more
than an hour elapsed before she reached
home. The cottage, where her mother
lived, was in the outskirts of the old
fashioned Sussex village, where the
Delanes had once been the great people
cf the place, as the Buckinghams were
now. She was so late, that both her
mother and her little sister Bobs had
given her up in despair, and had gone to
bed.
" But here you are," cried the latter,
kissing her again and again. " You
-dear, good Puss, what kind of a New
' Year's Day could we have had without
you?"
" I'm afraid we won't have a very
merry one, dear," put in her mother.
" I've been ill, you know, for the last
month, and Rose couldn't get paid for
what embroidery she's done."
"Never fret, mother," said Lilian, her
face all aglow, and her little hands div
ing into various baskets and parcels that
surrounded her.
" I've provided enough for us all
three."
Mrs. Delane was sobbing softly, With
her thin hand on her daughter's shoul
der; but little Rose, her bare feet peep
ing out beneath her Bnowy night-gown,
was watching, with her blue eyes wide
with waiting wonder, a parcel that
Lilian was unfolding.
" 'Tls for you, dear," said her sister.
" I made it myself at leisure time."
As she spoke, she shook out the dress.
It was a pretty, glossy fabric, as blue as
a June sky, and very stylishly made
up.
"Oh! was there ever anything so
pretty I" cried Rose. " Mother, mother I
Think of the Melrose dance I Won't it
be just the thing to wear?"
" I'm afraid you're a little vain and
selfish, Rose," said her mother, reprov
ingly. " Your sister expends all on us,
and saves nothing for herself."
" Oh, mother, don't, please I" cried
Lily. " Let her be happy over It. But
what about the Melrose dance, Rose V"
" Why, there's to be a dance and a
supper at the Melroses' to-morrow night
a real old-fashioned festival ; and the
Squire has invited everybody," replied
Rose, as she took off her nightrobe, in
order to try on her new dress. "You
and I are to go, and I have been fretting
for days about what I should wear ; and
won't this be glorious V"
"And what will Lily wear herself?"
said Mrs. Delane.
" Oh, never mind me, mother," inter
posed Lilian. " I don't like such places.
You know, Tom Dalton and his sisters
will come for Rose, and you and I will
have a cosy evening together at home
here. This Is your little present, dear
mother."
Mrs. Delane received the warm, win
ter shawl in silence, only pressing her
daughter's mind, and weeping; and
Lilian was the happiest girl in the wide
world, though her own garments were
threadbare, and her little purse now
empty.
Cold and stormy dawned New Year's
Day ; but the Delane cottage was cosy
and warm, and the widow and her
daughters enjoyed their dinner better,
to be sure, than if such delicacies were
common with them. As the day closed,
the storm increased, but Tom and Mary
Dalton came down early, in a covered
vehicle, and insisted that Rose must not
think of giving up the Melrose dance.
And Rose had no desire to do so, long
ing as she did to display her new dress
to Tom's admiring eyes.
Lilian stood In the cottage-door, and
watched the young people drive off;
then a momentary sadness came into
her sweet, brown eyes.
" How gay and happy they will be,"
she thought, "and Dick Buckingham
will be there."
But what was it to her V Why should
she caret She shut the cottage door,
and went back to her work. Her moth
er was ill, and had lain down ; so Lilian
quietly began some sewing. But her
hands dropped idly on her lap, and she
gazed moodily Into the fire. For once
in her unselfish life, Lilian Delane was
discontented.
Presently her eyes wandered to an old
picture that hung against the cottage
wall. It was her grandfather's portrait
a stern, old-fashioned man, and the
wealthiest landholder in the place, in
his lifetime.
Delane Mansion, in those days, had
been not a whit behind Melrose Hall, or
Buckingham Villa, In comfort and lux
ury. Lilian could remember when they
all lived there with her grandfather, so
happy, with every wish gratified. But
then her grandfather bad died, and there
was a trouble about the will. The right
one, or what was believed to be the right
one, could not be found, and her uncle,
a bold, bad man, got all the estate, and
her poor mother was turned out home
less and friendless. The uncle had gone
to' live in London, and the Delane Man
sion stood empty and shut up.
The storm beat without. A wild wind
clanked the elm boughs, and whirled
the snow about the cottage windows.
The din was so high, that Lilian barely
heard a rap outside. She arose and
opened the door half nervously.
" Why, Mr. Buckingham!" she ex
claimed. " Yes, Miss Delane," he said. "Won't
you ask me in V I am half smothered."
"Certainly. Come in Mr. Bucking
ham." :
Dick approached the fire, shaking
himself like a great Newfoundland dog.
" Miss Delane," he said, presently. " I
have come to take you to Melrose Hall.
Your sister sent me."
" Thank you," she answere, shortly,
"but I am not going."
"Why notV"
" Oh, for various reasons."
" Because you won't go with me V"
"Perhaps."
He looked at her a moment, standing
before him, so shy and proud, and so
provoklngly sweet and luring, and then
he broke out passionately.
" Lilian," he cried, " I love you, and
you know It. Don't torment me."
" Mr. Buckingham," she replied,
quietly, " I am your mother's hired
seamstress."
" I don't care If you were her cook;
you are as far above both her and me as
the stars ; and I love you, and no other
woman shall ever be my wife."
Few could have withstood the passion
In that grand masculine face ; least of
all, soft-hearted Lilian. She struggled
an Instant, and then burst Into tears.
" Oh, Mr. Buckingham!" she sobbed ;
"please go away and leave me. You
only make my lot harder. Please go
away."
" Never ! Never, till you promise to
be my wife."
She looked up steadily.
"Mr. Buckingham," she said, "un
derstand me now, once for all. I know
how your mother feels. I have heard
her express her horror of what she
would think a low marriage for her son.
Under such circumstances, I would go
to my grave, sooner than become your
wife."
He stood for a moment stunned.sllent,
his face white with agony ; then he
caught both her hands.
" Yet you love me," he cried. "You
do love me, Miss Delane, and you dare
not deny it."
Ills voice, his intense passion, master
ed her again, for the moment. She
drooped and trembled before him, and
her cheeks were on fire with blushes.
"And, but for a little paltry wealth,
you would be my wife. Answer me ; is
it not true, Lilian V"
"If I were back at Delane home
stead," she said, " it might be different.
But I am only your mother's needle
woman, and that ends the matter. "
He threw her hands from him, his
face dark with pain and passion. Just
then the winds without rose to a gale,
the cottage reeled and shook beneath
the shock, and the old portrait of Grand
father Delane came crashing to their
feet. The frame shivered, and the back
fell out, and when Dick Buckingham
raised it, a package of papers dropped to
the floor. One was heavy, and bound
with official tape.
" What's this V" he said, turning it
over and reading the superscription
"Jtoderick Delane'a Will."
Lilian caught the package from his
hands with a suppressed cry. For an
Instant her eyes ran down the yellow
page, with its black seals, and then she
exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Buckingham, this
is my grandfather's missing will. Moth
er, mother 1" she cried, as she read, "we
are rich again we shall have the old
homestead back 1"
She was hurrying to find her mother,
but Dick caught her and held her fast.
" Will you forget your promise ?" he
said, under his breath. "When you get
back to the old home, will you be my
wife!"'
She struggled a moment to escape
him, and then she raised her brown eyes
to his face, and in their happy depths
he read his answer ; and kissing her
trembling lips, he let her go.
By the fire that night, when Rose had
come home, they talked it all over, the
three happy women, wondering and re
joicing over what the storm had brought
them.
And before a twelvemonth went by,
the Widow Delane was reinstated in the
old homestead; and next Christmas
there is to be a double wedding ; for
Tom Dalton Is to marry pretty Rose,
and Dick Buckingham, making his
word good, will take for his wife our
brown-eyed Lilian.
The Judge and the Juggler.
A notorious scamp was ones brought
before an Onondago Justice of the
Peace., He was accused of having
" come the strap game" over a native.
The portly Justice, wishing to decide
understanding, asked to see a sample
of his skill.
"The party" Instantly produced a
leather strap, gave it a scientific whisk
across the bench and remafked :
" You see Judge the quarter under the
strap V"
"What!" interrupted the dignified
functionary, " do you mean to Bay there
is a quarter under there V"
" Sartln I" was the reply.
" No such thing I" said the Justice.
" I'll go you a dollar on It !" exclaim
ed the prisoner.
" Agreed I" said the Justice.
With accustomed adroitness the strap
was withdrawn, when lol there was the
quarter.
" Well," said the astonished Shallow,
" I wouldn't have believed It, if I had
not seen it with my own eyes. Here is
your dollar; and you are fined five dol
lars for gambling contrary to the statute
In such cases made and provided."
The elongated countenance of the
gambler require no additional evidence
to testify his appreciation of the sell."
A STRANGE CHARACTER.
THERE was a Thomas Pett who died
Clifford's Passage, London, in 1803.
He was a native of Warwickshire. He
came to London at the age of ten, with
one shilling in his pocket. As he had
no friends or relations in the city, he
was indebted to the kindness of an old
woman who sold pies for a morsel of
brtd, till he could get himself employ,
ment. Some time after he was engaged
as errand-boy by a tallow-chandler.
Mrs. Dip the chandler's wife being "a
lady of London mould," could not en
dure his rustlo manners and awkward
gait; so she sent him off one bitter
winter's night, with the remark, " Your
master hired you In my absence, and I'll
turn you off in his." The good husband
did not desert Tom however ; he found
him out, and sent him as apprentice to
a butcher in Southwark. For the first
five years he had twenty-five pounds a
year and meat and drink. The accumu
lation of money and the abridgment of
expense were the two sole objects of his
thoughts. His expenses were reduced
to three heads lodging, clothing and
washing. For the first he fixed on a
back room on the second floor, with one
window, that occasionally admitted a
stray sunbeam. Of his dress every ar
ticle was second-band. Nor was he
choice In the color or quality, sagely ob
serving, when he was teased about hia
garb, that according to Solomon there
was nothing new under the sun, and
that as to color, it was a mere matter of
fancy. Concerning washing, he said
that no man deserved a clean shirt who
could not wash it himself ; and that the
only fault he had to find with Lord
North was the duty he imposed upon
soap. There was one expense however,
that always weighed heavily on his
mind, and often robbed him of a night's
rest, and that was shaving. He often
lamented thathe had never learned to
shave himself. He used to console him
self under this affliction by hoping that
some day beards would become fashion
able. He made a promise to himself
that as soon as he had . amassed a thou
sand pounds, he would treat himself to
a pint of porter every Saturday. For
tune soon put it In Lis power to perform
this promise, and he continued to treat
himself till the additional duty was laid
on porter ; he then reduced his portion
to half a pint once a week. If he heard
of an auction anywhere near, he ran
quickly and begged a catalogue, as if
anxious to buy, and after be had collect
ed a number of these, he sold them for
waste-paper. When he heard an acci
dental rumor that the bank in which
his money was.had fulled.he shook from
head to foot, and took to his bed, refus
ing to eat until he was assured that all
was right. He was never known, even
In the depth of the coldest winter, to
light a fire In his room or go to bed by
candle-light. He loved good cheer at
the cost of another. " Every man,"
said he, " should eat when he can ; an
empty sack can not stand." Once on a
time he was prompted by the demon of
extravagance to purchase a whole pint
of small-beer ; but after buying It, was
so overcome by remorse that he locked
it in his closet ; then threw the key out
of the window, that he might, not be
tempted to make too free with it.
Thus lived Thomas Pett, whose pulse
for the last twenty years of his life rose
and fell with the funds ; who for forty
two years lived in Clare Market as jour
neyman butcher ; who lodged for thirty
years in one gloomy apartment, which
was never brightened up by coal or candle-light
or the face of a visitor ; who
never treated man, woman or child to a
glass of any kind of liquor ; who al
most never ate a morsel at his own ex
pense ; who never said a civil thing to a
woman ; who would not trust a laun
dress with a pocket-handkerchief ; who
considered all must be mad or foolish
that did not pile up gold ; and who tried
to bargain for his coffin half an hour be
fore he died. He left two thousand four
hundred and seventy-five pounds to dis
tant relations, not one of whom he had
ever seen or written to. The list of his
wearing-apparel, taken by a wag in the
neighborhood, runs thus : " An old
bald wig. A hat as soft as a pancake.
Two shirts that might pass for fishing
nets. A pair of stockings darned with
every color. A pair of old sandals. A
bed-stead. A toothless comb. Avery
old almanac. One old chair and wretch
ed table. A small looking-glass. And
a leather bag with one guinea in it."
Exciting Sport.
Twovaqueros,George Cornell and Gus
Richardson, who were driving cattle in
Mohave county, Arizona, saw a huge
cinnamon bear plant himself directly in
front of the herd. Cornell's horse snort
ed in alarm, and refused to obey the
spur. The other vaquero rode a courage
ous little mustang, which soon put
Richardson within ten yards of the
beast. Unstringing his lariat, Richard
son threw it at the bear, but, though the
aim was good, the bear caught the rope
in his mouth, and charged Instantly.
Richardson was caught. He could get
no further than his lasso's length from
the savage brute, because the bear's
teeth were strong, his hold good, and
his anger roused. The mustang's sup
ple strength was equal to the occasion, '
however. He ran round and round, the
bear following, for ten minutes or more,
Cornell meanwhile watching an oppor
tunity to cast his rope. The opportunity
came, the vaquero's coll shot through
the air, and the bear was caught by one
of his hind legs. Then the real fun
began. The cinnamon, mad from nose
to tail, let go Richardson's rope only to
find himself dragged backward by Cor
nell's ready horsemanship. The men
had left their weapons at home, and so
were puzzled for some time to know
how death could be dealt. Richardson
dismounted, and began a fusillade with
rocks. This stunned the bear, and ena
bled the vanqueros to tickle his ribs
with a pocket knife until he died.
A Lucky Lover.
Lorlng, the Boston bookseller, tells a
romantic story as follows : " At one
time I had prepared boxes of fancy pa
per with a fancy initial or pet name em
bossed in it, and I put this up at one
dollar a box, and advertised it widely.
One day I had an order from California,
from a Miss Susie . The box was
done up, addressed to her and lay about
here, when a young Englishman came
in and wanted to write a letter. I gave
him the materials and a place, when his
eye caught the address on this box.
" Have you the order that came for
that box of paper ?" he asked.
" Yes," I replied, " 'tis about some
where." " ' Would you mind sending it up to
my hotel V If it is what I think, I
shall leave for Californ la to-night. ' '
" I found It and sent it around and
heard no more about it for perhaps three
months, when one day the young man
with a lady on hia arm, walked in.
" Mr. Lorlng, I want to present you to
my wife," he said. " We could not
leave this country till we had thanked
you for your part in bringing us togeth
er." The denouncement was quite a ro
mance. The young man was the son of
an aristocratic; family in England,
and the girl was the daughter of the
gardener. But love levels all distinc
tions, and the young man felt this girl
to be the chosen companion of his life.
To break off the attachment his father
had sent him to the Continent and des
patched the gardener and his pretty
daughter to America, where the young
man had followed them, ignorant of
their address, and at last finding it
through the chance of the box of paper.'