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VOL. XV.
NEW BLOOMFIELD, T?JL., TUESDAY, APRIL 12, 1881.
NQU&
itn n m ' mum a wm rip u unitiw
THE TIMES.
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The Missing Watch.
FRANKLIN COULTER, a dry goods
clerk, joined as a private, odc of the
first New York regiments that volun
teered for the suppression of the Rebel
lion. In the course of service he won
the rank of second lieutenant, then of
first lieutenant, and finally a' brevet
captaincy. Toward the close of the war
his regiment was encamped at a small
village in Virginia, guarding a depot of
supplies. It was an easy and pleasant
service, and both officers and men de
lighted in it.
Beside the village, which had only
( been depopulated of its young men,
there were several fine plantations In the
neighborhood, the property of families
that had been wealthy and were still
proud.
The young ladies of the village and
the plantations, although they grieved
for those who were away, could not be
expected to devote their entire time to
that employment, and were not unwil
ling to be consoled by their "conquer
ors," who exerted themselves to provide
all manner of amusement, so that time
should not bang heavy on their hands.
At the plantation which was nearest
the village, Frank Coulter was a great
favorite and a constant visitor.
It was the home of the Penobyns, a
family of English descent, highly con
sidered in the neighborhood. At that
time the family was reduced to Mrs.
Penohyn and her two daughters, Ada
and Augusta, her husband being dead,
and her only son in Lees' army. The
younger of the daughters, Augusta, was
Frank Coulter's choice.
She was a beautiful brunette, pecu
liarly susceptible to the charms of a
manly presence, and had been too young
at the opening of the war to claim a
sweetheart among the young men who
went to fight. ' '
At the Penobyns' Frank Coulter
spent most of his spare time, his agree
able manners making him welcome to
all the family, and'there was no doubt
that he was devoted to Augusta. It
was evident, also, to those who observed
closely, that she was ready to recipro
cate his affection whenever he should
choose to declare It. But no words of
love bad yet passed between them, and
it is probable that Coulter felt that the
uncertainties of war did not justify him
in making the desired declaration.
One evening he had stayed at the
'Penohyns' until it was quite late, and
was requested to remain all night as he
had done on one previous occasion. He
consented, and retired to his room at a
reasonable hour as he would be obliged
to leave very early in the morning.
Augusta Penohyn remained seated on
the porch alone, enjoying the beauty of
the summer night, and admiring the
moonlight as it was filtered through the
vines. Bhe waa also thinking of the
handsome young Union soldier who had
lately left her aide, wondering whether
he really loved her, and wishing, if be
Old, that he would declare, himself and
end ber suspense.
From this revery she was aroused by
the sound of a light footfall. Turning
her head, she saw Frank Coulter ap
proaching ber. He had removed bis
coat aud boots, but bis partial undress
was neither uuusuul or objectionable, as
the nights were very wr.rui, and be was
an intimate friend.
He did not seem to be looking at
Augusta ; indeed, bis eyes were strange
ly fixed upon vacancy; but be came ' to
her aide, took ber band, and slowly aud
solemnly spoke these words:
" Whatever may happen, Augusta,
remember that I love you truly and
faithfully that my ( heart is entirely
yours."
Then he dropped ber band, turned
quickly, and walked away as swiftly
and silently as he bad come, before she
could recover from her surprise or make
any movement or reply.
To Augusta this conduct appeared
strange but not unaccountable. Bhe
soon came to the conclusion that he was
more timid than she had supposed him
to be that he had formed a sudden
resolution, as he was about to retire for
the night, to declare his love that he
had mustered courage to come down
and speak the words that she had longed
to hear, and then frightened by his own
audacity, had hastened away before he
could learn his fate.
But the thought that he loved her was
blissful enough for Augusta. She de
termined to go and dream on it, and
went up stairs to ber room. There
another strange surprise awaited her.
As she reached the open door, she saw
a man standing at the bureau, and by
the moonlight she recognized him as
Franklin Coulter. He held in his hand
ber watch and chain, which he had
taken from their place on the bureau.
Then he turned and swiftly left the
room, looking straight ahead, as if he
supposed himself to be unseen.
Augusta Penohyn was even more
amazed by this second encounter than
she had been by the first. She was so
astounded that she did not know what
to do or say. She shrank back into the
shadow of the door while the young
man passed her, with the watch and
chain visible in his hand, and disappear
ed in the passage that led to his own
apartment.
The young lady entered her room,
and sat down to reflect upon this very
peculiar occurrence. Could it be that
her lover wanted to carry away the
watch and chain as a remembrance of
ber, or that he merely wanted some
thing that was ber's to put under his
pillow that night V Or was the proceed
ing intended as a joke, which would
be explained and laughed over in the
morning t Surely it could be nothing
worse than this, and she resolutely
dismissed the dark suspicion that in
truded itself upon her. She went to
bed, but ber thoughts of the strange
conduct of her lover kept her awake a
long time, though she assured herself
that the affair would be pleasantly ex
plained in the morning.
But in the morning the young officer
was gone. He bad risen at an early
hour, as was bis intention, and had
returned to camp long before Augusta
was awake. She searched the room
which he bad occupied, but saw no signs
of the watch and chain, nor even a note
from him to explain the disappearance
of the articles. This was unaccountable,
and the young lady was naturaljy much
displeased; but she concluded that it1
would be best to say nothing about the
matter at present, hoping that Coulter
would explain it satisfactorily on bis
next visit.
She saw him after the lapse of a few
days. He came to the bouse as be had
been In the habit of coming, and there
was nothing in his appearance or man
ner to indicate that anything unusual
had occurred. He treated Augusta
precisely as be had treated ber before
his strange declaration of love was
spoken, and made not the remotest
allusion te the affair of the watch and
chain.
This was quite displeasing to Augusta,
who determined to draw him out iu
private as ber questioning looks in
public bad failed to produce any effect
upon blm. She asked him to walk with
her, and when they were entirely alone
began to question him.
Did you bring back my watch aud
chain, Frank V" she asked.
"Your watch and chain ?" was bis
surprised reply.
" Yes, my watch and chain, which
you carried away the last time you spent
the night here."
"J don't know what you mean. I
have not bad your watch aud chain. I
know nothing about them."
It was then the young lady's turn to
show surprise and indignation, '
" You surely cannot have forgotten,"
said she, "that you took those articles
from the bureau in my room the last
night you staid at our house, and car
ried them away with you."
" This is news to me, I assure you."
You bad even taken off your coat
and boots, sir, and doubtless supposed
that you were not observed, but I saw
you plainly in the moonlight."
" Miss Penohyn, do you know what
you are saying y You are accusing me
of stealing."
" I did not believe that you meant to
steal them," she said, half sobbing. " I
supposed that you had only tukeu them
for a joke, or perhaps for a keep-sake,
and that you would bring them back or
make an explanation. But I never
thought that you would deny taking
them."
"Miss Penohyn, this Is unbearable.
To be accused of theft, and by a lady,
as that is something new in my experi
ence, I declare upon my honor, that
I did not take your watch and chain,
and that I was not out of my room that
night"
"Do you really think that you can
face me down in this way ?" she indig
nantly demanded. " I suppose you will
also deny that you came down stairs
just before you took . the watch and
chain, and came to where I was sitting
on the porch, and said "
" Some other crime," he said perceiv
ing that she hesitated. "I am not in
the. humor to listen to any more accusa
tions. Either there has been some
monstrous mistake, or you are deliber
ately insuItlBg me."
"Or the honor, of which you just
spoke does not exist."
" If you can speak to . me in that
strain, Miss Penohyn, the sooner I leave
you the better."
" Yes, indeed before any more porta
ble property is missing."
They parted in anger, and that part
ing was final. Miss Penohyn told ber
mother and sister of her loss, and was
at first disposed to complain to the
Colonel of Coulter's regiment, but was
persuaded that such a course might lead
the family into trouble, and allowed the
matter to drop. The regiment was soon
ordered away, and she saw no more of
Frank Coulter.
It was not until two years after the
close of the war that Frank Coulter
returned to Virginia, and then he came
in a peaceful capacity of an agent or a
drummer for a New York dry goods
house. The Penohyns bad become
comparatively poor, and the family
mansion was turned into a tavern,
which was kept by the son, Henry, who
bad come out of the war with the loss of
an arm.
At the tavern Frank Coulter stopped
to pass the night. There was no other
place to go to, and perhaps he would
not have made another choice if he had
the chance, as he was neither a physical
nor a moral coward.
Augusta Penohyn bad told her' broth
er the story of the loss of her watch and
chain. Henry informed her of Coulter's
arrival, and she satisfied herself, with
out being seen by him, that be was the
same man who bad been so strangely
proven unworthy of her love. .
Then they consulted together to decide
upon what should be done. Henry was
for bis immediate arrest, saying that be
could be punished for his crime, as be
ought to be, under the laws of Virginia,
but Augusta, who bad not quite lost
ber love for the recreant, was unwilling
to go to that extreme. Harry finally
resolved that be would have an inter
view with Coulter in the morning, and
press him closely on the matter.
The brother and sister were still seated
on tbe porch discussing this question,
when the man of whom they had been
speaking came down stairs. He bad
retired to his room at an early hour and
now he came down bare-headed, In his
shirt-sleeves and his stocking feet, just
as he bad done on the night which
witnessed the episode of the watch and
chain. Tbe moon shown just as it did
then, its light filtered through tbe vines
that nearly enclosed the porch.
"This is strange," suld Henry, as
Coulter stepped oil' the porch. " Stay
where you are, Augusta, and I will
follow him." i
Looking straight ahead, aa if staring
at vacancy, Frank Coulter walked out
Into the road, and turned down a lane
that led to the stable, cautiously follow
ed by Henry Penohyn.
At the stable be stopped, and dug
under a corner. Then he returned to
the house, closely followed by Henry.
As he stepped up on the porch a watch
and chain was plainly visible in his
hand.
Henry held up his hand warnlngly to
Augusta as she was about to rise from,
ber chair.
" Be quiet," he said, " I understand It
now."
Then he quietly followed Coulter up
stairs.
The next morning Henry Penohyn
contrived that Frank Coulter should be
alone with him in the parlor, and bis
sister Augusta came in smiling. Her
chain was around ber neck, and her
watch was visible in her belt.
" I find that I did you a great injus
tice, Mr. Coulter, when I last saw you,"
she said.
" You accused me of steallug your
watch and chain," he replied, as bis
fuce flushed. I see that you have them
now. Had you mislaid them V"
" I had not mislaid them."
" Who, then, was the culprit t"
" Nobody but yourself."
" Indeed 1 And yet you say that you
did me an Injustice in aocublng me of
the theft. I don't understand this."
" You took them just as I said you
did," persisted Augusta, still smiling.
" How then, did you reoover them V"
" You brought them back last night,
and put them on the bureau from which
you had taken them."
"Impossible!" exclaimed the young
man. "This is outrageous."
"Not in the least. Were you not
aware, Mr. Coulter, that' you were a
sleep-walker y"
" A sleep-walker I If I am, I never
bad any cause to suBpeot it."
The entire story was then told, to
Coulter's great bewilderment, but also
to his great satisfaction, and he conclud
ed that his business would oblige him
to remain several days at tbe Penohyn
hotel.
That evening he was walking in the
moonlight with Augusta.
" When we parted," she said, " I was
about to tell you of something else you
had stolen when you took my watch
and chain, but you would not allow me
to finish."
"I remember," he replied, "that you
were going to accuse me of another
crime. What was it V"
" Not a crime at all. You came down
on the porch, took my band, and told
me that whatever happened, I must
remember that you loved me. You stole
my heart before you went up stairs to
steal my trinkets."
" Now you must give me your hand,
Augusta, and if I should ever again get
up in my sleep to steal your watch and
chain, we will at least have the consola
tion of knowing that the act is not
criminal one."
" I shall watch you, sir," she blush-
ingly replied.
The law and the church gave her the
right to watch him.
Familiar Quotations.
ALTHOUGH the poema of Alexan
der Pope are seldom read at tbe pres
ent day .people without knowing It quote
him more frequently than any other au
thor or book.wlth the exception perhaps
of Shakspeare, Milton, the Bible, Byron,
Isaac Watts, Benjamin Franklin, and
iEsop. The following list of quotations
will give some idea of his popularity in
this regard :
Shoot folly as it flies.
Mau never Is, but always is to be,
blest.
Lo, the poor Indian I
Die of rose In aromatic pain.
All are but parts of one stupendous
whole.
Whatever is, is right.
The proper study of mankind is man.
Grows with his growth and strength
ens with bis strength.
Vice is a monster of Buch hideous
mien.,
Pleased with a rattle, tickled with a
straw.
He can't be wrong whose life is right.
Order is Heaven's first law,
Honor and shame from no condition
rise.
Act well your part there all the
honor lies,
Worth makes tbe man, the want of it
the fellow,
An.hoask man's the nobleet work of
Gkdi
Look through nature up to nature a
God.
Front grave to gay, from, lively to
severe.
Guide, philosopher and. folend,.
Just as the twig is bent the tree's In. ;
ciioed.
Mistress of herfelf, though China falL
Who shall decide wheu doctors dlsa
greey ;
A little learning is a dangerous thing,
Fools rush in where aogols fear to.
tread.
Damn with falut praise.
Willing to wound and yet, afraid to.
strike.
Breaking a butterfly upon a wheel.
The feast of reason and, the flow ot
soul.
Welcome the coming, speed the parU
ing guest. .
An Irishman's Wit.
When Jackson was President, Jimmy
O'Neill, the Irish door-keeper of the
White House, was a marRed character.
He bad his foibles, which often, offended '
the fastidiousness of the President's,
nephew and secretary, Maj. Donelson,
who caused bis dismissal ou an average
of about once a week. But, on appeal
to the higher court, the verdict was
always reversed by the good old General.
Once, however, Jimmy was guilty of
some flagrant ofTense, and, being sum
moned before the President himself, waa
thus addressed :
" Jimmy, I have borne with you for
years, in spite of all complaints; ut
this goes beyond my power of endur
ance." "And do you believe the story V" ask
ed Jimmy.
"Certainly," answered the General;.
"I have just heard it from two Sena
tors." "Faith," retorted Jimmy, "if I bellev
ed all that twenty Senators say about
you, it's little I'd think you was fit to be
President."
" Psbaw, Jimmy," concluded the
General, "clear out and go back to your
duty, but be more careful hereafter."
Jimmy not only retained hla place to
the close of Jackson's Presidential term,
but accompanied him back to tbe old
Hermitage, and was with him to the
day of bis death.
A Surprised Dog.
The following story oome to us (For.
eat and Stream) well authenticated : At
a certain club house in Boston there was
kept in the billiard room a parrot which
was so tame and such a favorite that it
was not confined to its cage, but was
allowed tbe liberty of the room, and was
often seen perched upon the furniture
or wandering about the floor. On one
occasion, when the bird was seated in
one corner of the room, a gentleman,
Mr. B., entered, followed by bis dog,
whether a pointer or a setter we do not
know. The dog after a few momenta
winded the parrot, drew on it, and
finally stood fast. The bird, which bad
been, up to this time, apparently obliv
ious of the presence of the canine, now
turned its head slowly, and in tones
expressive of the utmost contempt, said,
" Go home, you darned fool I " The dog
started, looked, and then turning tall,
slunk out of the room. It is said that
although up to this time the animal had
been a splendid hunter, he would hence
forth never point a bird.
Tough en the Minister.
A young Methodist minister at Mer.
cer, in this State, fell in love two years
ago with a young lady who returned his
affection. He went to India as a mis
sionary, and wrote from there to her to
come out, marry him, and help In his
pious work. She wanted to, but had no
money, and confided her wishes to a
well-to-do clothing merchant of Mercer,
who furnished her the money for the
trip. When she started from Mercer for
New York the good citizen discovered
that he was sorry she had gone in fact
that he waa la love with her bimBelf.
He took the train and followed her In
the hope of reaching New York before
the steamer sailed. He arrived Just in
time. She bad already gone on board ;
be followed ber on deck, proposed to her;
she accepted, and they went back to
Mercer. Tough on the missionary,
though, wasn't It y ,