Lancaster Examiner and Herald

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VGL.xSra.
LMQAISTES, PA., WEPPSRAY, fflR^WEfc 44861.
NO. 2.
J. A. HIESTAHD, J. F. HUBBR, P. HBCKKBT- ¦- vnn tn nan of 	
HIESTAIIDi HUBES & HECKERT,
otwm a lomiK araM man.
THE EXAMINER & HERALD Xr P^Uaiud WKtlt, « TV. BcOan a rear.
jU>VBBTIBBHSliTBwiUbe Inwrted >t tlis rau of %\ O0p.r tquniOf tra Unw, (or Oitm Ihmi- tiouorlMa;aadS6c«Dt8pw i qun fax uch mddlUoul InmtloB.
AdTWtlusiuiU WM.dbi£ 10 Unu wUl lie flhuged 6 CMtta pu Ua. for Ui. 1st ioMrtlon. uid 8 ccnU por Us. Ur Mali sabMqaut Inunlon.
BntlBtsa AdToitlsemenU laewtod by t]i6 qoAiter hiOf JMr or jnx, will b. obugKl as foUowi:
s monfAi. 6 flumfJll. U numMs
OoaSqusr. » 00      «6 00       « a 00
Tiro   "       eoo        8 00        uoo
Veoluinn 10 00       18 00 25 00
ii       "        18 00        SSOO WOO
1        ¦¦        SOOO        SSOO SOOO
BDSIHKSS NOTICES UiBMt«d boforo H«rrl«go« snd Deaths, donblo tho regolsr ratoa.
B3-J.il advertifilDS aceonnta are conaldered coUecta. ble at tha expiration of half tbe period contracted for. Tranaient adrertlsementa, CASH
IHE WOLVES.
Te who H>len to alorlaa told,
When hesrtlia are cbeer/ and nighta are cold,
Ofthe lone wood.alde, and the hnngr/ pule That howlB on tbe fainting traveUer'e traoic,—
Flanie.red eyebaUa that waylay,
By the wintry moon, tbe belated sleigb,—
Tbe loet cbild Booght in tho diunal wood, The Uttle ahoea and tbe atalna of blood
Oo tbe trampled BQow,—0 yo tbat beir. With thrills of pity or chilla of fear,
'Wiehlnt Bome angel bad been Best To abteld tbe baplesi) and innocent,—
Enow ye tbe fiend tbat iB crneller far Tban the gannt gray herds of the foreat are?
Bwtftly Tanisbthe wild fleet traciia Before the rifle and woodman's asie:
Bnt bark lo tbe comiog of onreen feat, PatlerlDg by nisfat tbroogb lbe rity atreei I
racb well that diaa la tbe woodland brown LlTee a epeclre aad hanots tbe town.
By sqnare aod marlfet tbey cliolc and prowl. In laoe and alley they leap and bowl.
All night tbey fiaoflTand snarl before
Tbe poor patched window and brolcen door.
Tbey paw tbe olapboardn and claw tbe latcb. At eyery crevice they whine and acratch.
Their toQgnea are tnbtle aod long and tbia. And they lap the Uyiog blood within.
1.7 been are the teeth tbat tear. Bed aa rnia the eyea tbat glare,
Cbiidren croocbed In corners cold Ehlvei in tattered garments old.
And slan from vieep witfa bitter pangs
At tbe tonch of tbe pbaatoffl's viewiesa fangs.
Weary the mother aod wom with strife, StUl sbo waiches and Igbt- for Ufe.
Bnt ber baod is feeble, and weapon BmaU: Ooe Uttle needle against tbem ali!
In evil bonr tha dangbter fled
From her poor aheller and wretched bed.
Tbrough the city's pitiless aolitode To tbe door of sin the woiyes pnrsned.
Fieice tbe falber and grim witb want, -His beart is goawed by the spectres gaunt.
Frenzied ateaiiog fortb by nisbt,
Witb whetted Imifa, to the desperate fight.
He tbongbt lo strilie tbe spectres dead. Bot ha bmiles bis brother man instead.
0 yon that listen to stories told.
When hearths are cheery and nighta are cold,
Weep so more al tho lales yon bear,
Tba dacger Is cl iBe sod the wolves are near.
Shadder sot at tbe murderer's oame, btairel cot at tbe maiden's shame.
Pass not by with averted eye Tbe door where tbo stricken children cry- Bat when lbe boat of tha nnseea feet Sonnds by si^^bt throagh tbe stormy strest,
Follow then where the spectres glide; Stand like Bope by tbe motber'a side;
And be Ibyself the angel aent ..l^o^ableld the hapless aud Inuocent.
Ha gives but littie wbo gives bis teara, B6 givea his best wbo aids and cbeers.
He does wall In the forest wild
Who slays the monster aad saves tbe child;
Bot be does belter, and merits more.
Who drives the woll frem tbe poor man's door.
 ..m..	
[From Harper's lionlbly.]
A WIFEi STORY.
" Lift me up, Katharine," said my fatlier, in tbe lotv, faint voice of extreme weakness. " I want to loot ont of the west window onoe more. If I ever see these hills again it will l)e with eyes lhat can not I'e sealed by death or dimmed by old age.''
I lifted him op, aided by a yonng phyaician who had theoare of him dnring hia six weeks Illness, and who seldom left him now. My father was the oldest meJioal praotioner in Woodstook. In faot the town contained bat one other, a man of nearly the same age.— Perhaps the rivalry of half a lifetime had not made tbem any better friends. At all eventa, I faelieve that my father, thongh he permitted me to send for Dr. Greene at the commence' ment of his eevere illness, was not sorry to leam that he was temporarily ont of town.—. In this emergency I had recoarse to Dr- Bar- tholemew—a yonng man, not more lhan thirty, who was rnsticating dnring the anm¬ mer moaths at the village hotel, enjoying the Mcdred pleasares of retirement and tront- flshing. From the first my father had been pleased withhis mannera and satiafied with his skill; thongh he had asserted that he needed no phyaioian, and that the illnesa which was npon him was beyond the reach of earthly aid. Dr. Bartholemew had, in faot, filled for six weeks the poat of nurae rather than medi¬ cal adviser. Beaides mine, his waa the only faoe that did not seem to bring confasion and disquiet into the sick room.
I was only eighteen, though my father was seventy. I was the child of his old age, the | last of seven, and my six brothers and sisters slept in sight of our windows, where the obnroh spire cast its iong shadow, and the light streamed lovingly over a annny hill-side. My mother had died so long ago that I ouly cherished a memory of a sweet, kind face, a low^ soft voioe, a memory as dim as our child¬ ish fancies abont saints and angels. Since her death I'had been my father's sll, as he had been mine. When be was gone I could see no iove, or bope for me in tbe world—no friend, no comfort. But my heart struggled desperately against admitting for an instant tb^ idea of his death. I reati no encourage¬ ment i'n Dr^ BartUolemew's eyes, yet for a long time' I sliove lo persuade myself that there were signa and possibilities of recovery whioh only watching eyes as anxious as mine could discover.
We piled pillows behind and aronnd him, and placed him, ss be requested, in a poaition where his eyes could lake in the range oftbe outaide laiidsoape. He looked forth long and silently. At lengtb'hia gaze rested on a tail elm-whose brancbes overshadowed nearly half the yard,*i£n(f he spoke, ia a dreamy abseot voice:
"How large itis, Kathiel I plauted it forty-five yeara ago—the very day I brought your mother home a bride. See how young and fresh it looks I Birds sing in its bough: the sun loves its greeness. II lives, and Eaohel is still and dead beaids her six cbild¬ ren in the ohurebyard. It will be hale and young still Khen I bave been sleeping a hun¬ dred years by ber side. What do I say ?— Perhaps she and I will be young also. It is not all of ns, Kathie, that yon leave nnder the groimd. There is another part that feels, and thmks, and lovea. We call it sonl, for want of a better name. Perhaps Rachel's aoul ia waiting for mine—now—out there."
He lapsed again into ailence, bnt bis eyea
were looking very far, striving, it seemed, to
pierce throngh clouds and sky to seek the
soft beauty of a face as far away from bis
rision as time is from eternity.   How far ia
that;   Sometimes I think a breath wonld lift
the onrtain between   na   and the invisible
ones beyond.   I thonght so then.   The truth
oame home to me that he most go.   I felt
that bis aged, trembling feet bad reaohed the
blink of that sea which flowa forever towaid
the ooean of eleinity—on this shore earth, on.|
that—what?   No-bridge spans those tideleas.
waters, no voyager haa ever retumed to reveal
tho secrets of that lind.   Not even an echo
floats baok to ns across the waves.   I almost
held my breath to listen; but I heard no
aommons, no oar-plash from the ferryman of
death.   Did my father* read my thonghta?—
He sank baok against the pUlbws, and turned
his eyes on me fondly.   As if answering my
bea, he eald :
"Tho messenger bas oome, EatUa; he Is
I waiting. I most go. ; It will not tw long be¬ fore I Bb«Uasd«ratii)l«U the nysttiy. I think I shiU see BMhel. Oood-by, dear ohild, ttood ohild: There Is lore beyond the earth thet will not leare yon desolate."
His eyes lingered with a holy, oUiigtng t«n- dehiiMS opon my faoe.' His hands' 'flattered softly to and fro orer hla hair. Tbia hadbeen ftom my is^ioy bis one babitnal oaiess; bat the tbin, shaking banda mored reiy feebly sow. At length they grew still. I thongbt bis eyes were losing their look of reoognition. I clasped my arms abont him olose, olose. I trid to oall to him, to beeeeoh his biesaing, to implore him to stay with me, bnt my lips re¬ fused to more. I oonld not speak one word. I dared not look into those eyes, growing eo frlgbtfally dim and glassy. I bnried my faoe In bis bosom. Soon the Dootor sald,gently, '¦ God pity yon, poot ohUd 1 be U dead." My father bad been burled a week when Dr. Bartholemew oame to bid me good-by. He bad prolonged bis stay in Woodstook a montb beyond bis intentions—at first, becanse of \nj father's ilhiees; and since his death, in order to afford me all the oomfort aad assistance that was in bis power. I knew this, and felt some¬ thing as nearly approaching to gratitnte as a heart so atnpefled by grief oould experienoe.— All positire emotion seemed swallowed np for tbe time by the one great waro whiob bad in¬ gulfed my life.
I sat alone in the room where my father and I had passed eo many evenings togsther. It was nearly dark, snd I had lighted no lamp. A fire smouldered in the grate, for it was a chilly erening iii September, but I bad not enongh energy to stir it into life. I sat witb my head npon my hands, trying morbidly to recall every instanoe In which I had ever failed in duty to my .dead father; ereiy sorrow I might bare shared and did not; erery pang 1 bad failed to assuage.
I did not eren look np when Dr. Barthole¬ mew came in. More tban any one I erer knew be had tbe habit of respecting the moods of otbers. He took a oKair and sat down quietly at tbe other side of tbe hearth. Neither of na spoke for a while, nntil I bad begun to feel soothed by bis silent oompanionsbip, and find it ratber pleasant tban intmsire. Then he said, in tbose quiet tones I bad leamed in my fath¬ er's sick-room to know so well, and obey so cordially and instinctirely.
"Kathie,thia is not good for you, sitting here in the dark with the flre baming low, and thinking, as 1 know you are, about a past whiob deatb has sealed np forerer. I shall not like you to do so wben I am gone. Yoa know I leave Woodstock to-morrow." This roused me.
" To-morrow! So soon (" I said, sadly. It aeemed to me as If my last friend wonld be gone, and I thought I could not bear it.
He stirred tbe fire till it homed np brilliant¬ ly, lit a lamp, and placed it in the little rotmd table in the oentre of the loom, and then came and sat down near me.
Yes, Kathie, to-monow-" He looked at me searchingly, witb bis grave, tralhfnl eyes. " I came to Woodstock because I had had a hard winter, and was in need of reat. I bare staid already mnoh longer than I iutended, and I should be tempted to stay longer slill, bnt it is impossible. ..The friend wbo took my praotice during my absence is imperatively called away, and I am needed at onoe in Phila¬ delphia. I am sorry to leave yon, Kathie, while the wonnd in yonr beart is still so fresb and sore.''
He pansed for mo to anawer him, but my tears oame instead of words. After a while I faltered.
"You were so kind to him. I can not thank you, but I shall indeed feel as if I had lost all when you are gone."
Again that searohing look, as if he would pierce through mywords to my thonght, and know my whole meaning. Then a light, a gleam of something I had never met in any man's eyes before oame into his, and I beard tbe first words of love that hsd ever fallen upon my maiden ears.
" I shall feel as if I had left all iu learing yon. I did not mean tosay it to-night,Kathie, bnt in tbese past weeka of sorrow you hare growu into my heart; it is fall of yon. Some day I sball aak If you oau gire me lore for lore; if you will share my home and my fature—aome time, but notto-nigbt. Youare lonely and sorrowful now; you think you bare reason to be grateful to me; and these things might mislead yon. 1 will not hare your ana¬ wer ontil, through months of absence, yon have leamed to know your own heart. But this wmter I shall write to you—may I not ?— and in the spring I shall oome to hear wbat message yonr soul has for mine."
I could not have answered him If I would; he had put it out of my power. Kor do I think I was prepared to tell him then that I loved him with mj lifetime's love; the idea was too new—too strange. So I sat silent till be spoke again, on another theme.
" You must not live here alone, Kathie.— Have you thought of any plan ? Icould wiab all migbt be settled bofore I go."
" Yea, I hare arranged that. Yon know Miaa Willis?"
" What, the pattern old maid—the beat wo¬ man in Woodatock ?   Yea."
" To-day I aaw her. She ia boarding with strangers now. Yon know sbe has been for many years an orphan, withont any near ties —like myself. I bave aaked ber to oome to me for the winter, and I thhik she is glad to do so.   She will be bear on Monday."
" Tbia relievea me, Kathie, of mnoh anxiety. If Mies Willis is not ^&tj original or amnalng, ahe ia good, and will take good oare of yon. With her and old Janet you will do rery well." We did not talk long after that. I was tired and exoited, and Dr. Bartholemet^ aaw it.— Soon he roae to go.
" I shall write you erery week," he aaid, as we stood sMe by side before the fire, " and you muat tell me all about your life—all that troublea, all that pleaaesyou; and in any donbt or perplexity be sure I shall not fail you. I only want one promise. It ia sin to rebel against God's will—to give our whole hearts and lives away, even the dearest. We bare always Hearen's work to do, and it is no human being's right to nnfit himself for it.— Promise me, then, that yoo will Iry to strug¬ gle againat grief-to think of your father ouly as he would wiah to hare jou think. You shonid keep busy: that Is tbe sovereign anti¬ dote for undne grief; read, and study, and keep house, and make yourself useful wher¬ ever sorrow ia."
" You are right, I know," I anawered, as I met the kind eyes bent npon me witb a look of entreaty more controlling than a command; " I will do my best to obey you." " And now I miicf go, Kathie." He took both my hands in a strong, close presstue. He looked into my face; I oould not read tbrough my teare the language of his eyes, bnt the tendemess of his roice thriUed
"Good-by, Kathie, dear and- good child 1 Bemember, wben yon are sad and lonely, that there is oneheart towhich youare the neareat thing on earth-"
Tbe next moment he was gone. I beard the outer door oloae after him while I still Btood dreamily by the fire. I knew that for tbe pres¬ ent I sbouid aee him no more. He wonld leare Woodstook early ontbe morrow, and I should be more utterly alone than I bad^rer been as yet. Still I was not wretched. A Sne, ragoe happiness, whose preaenoe I hardly acknowl¬ edged, thrilled erery pnlse, and though as yet I msde no plana for tbe futnre, knew not whether I aiiould erer be ready to pledge him the faith ofa wife, I lelt a new glow of pride and beart-'ivannth ag I said again and again to myself, balf nnoonsciouBly, "He is good, and he lores me."
Tbe next Uonday jllary Ann Willis oame.
Bbe was, lo tmtil, ail Dr. Bartholemew and
oommon lomor agieed in styling her, the best
woman In WOodabx^' Withont any remarka-
I bll powers of Intdleoli oi atbaotlon, she had
made every one lore her by fone of the pore goodness of ber heart. In her own person she farntahed a lefoUtion of all the oalamnles erer invented against old maids. She abound¬ ed in good works. She never condemned any, bat had always an eznnss where excuse was possible; where It was not, silenoe and a tear- The most tempting sdoial mystery ivas safe fromany onriosity'of bers. Thougb no one had erer known of her haring a lorer, no tme lorers wooed or wedded wlthoot her best wisbes—ber tenderest sympathy. In short, her life oame nearer to the perfeot fulfillment of the law of lore than any woman's wbom I Imre ever known.
I welcomed her under my roof wilb pleasure. In goodness, I was not worthy to sit at ber feet; but we suited eaoh other. We had both one gift whioh masculine oriticisms rarely ac¬ cord to woman—that of silenoe. We used to sit sometimes for bonrs together, bosy wUh book 01 work, withoot the interobange of a word. So far as I couId,I strove to fallow Dr. Bartbolemew's snggestions. I read a great many volomes of solid, nsefnl reading. I forc¬ ed myself to obserre certain regolar boors for stody, snd I tried to show kindneas lo erery one witbin my reach wbo was poor or in troa¬ ble. And so doing, tbe wonnd In my faeart began gradually to heal. I could not forgetmy father, or oease to mourn hlm; but I leamed td say, with heart as weU as roice, " Tbe Lord gare, and ths Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord." .
AU this time Dr. Bartbolemew's weekly let¬ ters were a great help to me. They were not lore-letters. I doubt if they would hare satis- fled a girl acoustomed to adnlation, br familiar with tbs grand passion ss it is portrayed in norels and romances. They said rey little about his regard for me; and yet I could read in erey lino hia anxiety for my happiness— for my best'good. He told me a great deal aboot himaelf: of his pursnits; his home; bis moiher, who had been for sereral years his housekeeper; bis profession—in short, every thing that msde nphls daily life was put npon paper forme; so that weekly I grew into deeper and more intimate knowledge of him. And weekly my soul did him deeper and more tender reverence, nntil, by-and-by, 1 felt tbat mj beart bad gone forth from me, and I was no longer my own, bnt another's.
Btill the winter days were not too many. I was satisfied to do as he bad told me—to think of him, and of what the fntnre held for me. I lored to watch the white, still reign of snow and ioe. It did not seem, as it had seemed iu other days, chill aud terrible. The snow fold¬ ed the earth softly, audi thoogbt it iike bridal robes. The short days were bnsy and cheer¬ fal ; the long evenings I passed in writing to him, trying to show him my nature as it was —no worae, no better^lranscrlbing for him favorite passages from my readings, and con¬ fiding my wildest spaonlations to him with as little fear as I acknowledged tbem to my own beart.
And so the winter wore away, aud the spring stole noiselessly over tbe bills. Her. deft fingers unlocked the streams, and sent them dashing and leaping over bill-top and valley. Where she trailed her roba along the meadowa, riolels, and crocuses, and shy, pale anemones sprang inlo life. Busy all the night tbrough, erery moming revealed some new miracle of resurrection. The forest trees shook forth their leaves, and the apple-trees bung out their bloasoms, until the day of May came—wbite with starry fiowers and mnisoal with wooing songs of robins and thrushes— wben hebad promised to oome to me. My heart was not less tuneful than tbe birds, less jubilant than the spring. I made ready my bome, and garnished it witb flowers. I pnt on a thin summer robe—^black, but not som¬ bre. My heart needed no preparation. It was a womau's beart—true, atrong, loving for the flrat time—ready to welcome its king.
I heard the train come in, and I knew be would walk quietly np to the bouS8,!30 I went ont into the lane to meet him. I knew bis quiok, eager step. I saw bis beaming face.— I heard his' faoe: " Do I meet my Kathie !" And I faltered—" Yonr Kathie, youra for everl"
Then underneath the apple-lrees, shaking down over ns their while, sweet blossoms, I felt strong arms draw me close to a trae beart. His first kiss was npon my moutb; and be said, beneath that solemn, overlooking blue sky, breaking tbe silence after oor meeting Ups:        '
" Kathie, before Qod, and before the dead wbo loved yoo BO fondly onoe, and I do believe look down on yoo now, I promiae to \>e tme and faithful to yon, tbe dearer half of myself. I will lore you well, cherish you tenderly, and struggle manfully with the world for yonr sake. Does mj ohild trnst me ?" " Sbe trusts you."
We went in bappy, betrothed lorera: and standing before Mary Ann Willia, the only friend 1 had near enongh lo appriae, told ber of the rows we had pledged. Did she re¬ member a loat dream or a lost reality of ber owu rimlsbed youth ? Tears oame into ber kind blue eyea—I do not think lhey were sad ones, though—and her bands trembled, but her roice was clear and ferrent aa sbe uttered the blessing I bad no one else left to bestow.
Tho week he passed witb me was only too short for the rare joy it held.   It was all he could spare then from hia dntlea which claim¬ ed him.   It waa enough for me to be near him; to feel lhat he loved me—waa mine.   I did not caro to frame any projects.   I found sufficient bappmeas in the proEont without looking forward.   He, with bis man'a nature was more praolical, or leas easily satisfied. Bo he made plans forme, whioh I was only too glad to accept.   We were not to be married until fall.   He wanted me noto, bs said.   He had little patience for waiting.   Bot be would nbt take me to Philadelphia till autumn should bring ooohiess and rigor.   To me, osed all my life to the fresb breezes, tbe pure air, the free¬ dom of tbe Conneolioul hills, lo begin life in any cily in the anmmer wonld be trying; ao far sontb as Philadelphia it might be falal. So he would slay there and do Ills aummer work; and when September came he would come for his reward—for mo.   Wilh this ar¬ rangement I was well conlent.   It would give me no more time tban I sboald require formy preparations.   Of tbeae I do not suppose be erer thonght.   Il would not hare occurred to him lhat I oould not hare been ready to be married at a day's or a week's notice.   But I knew ihat I ahould hare mnoh to do, and none too long a time to accomplish it.   In spile of the grief at parting with bim,hia fare¬ well gare me slrength.   His eyes seemed to shed down into my heart rays of rirlfymg warmth and peace.   His words lingered with me for weeks after like a benedIction>
" Goodby, Kathie, boat treasure I God keep safely my promised wife till I come l"
We bad a busy sammer, Mary Ann Willis and I; for in every thing she shared my la¬ bors. There were webs of colton to be made np; delicate embroideries to fashiou; ahining silks and mialy muslins to be submitted to the skillful hands of the oity dress-maker we sent for to be the presiding genius of our uu-.j dertakings. I was to lay aside iay mourning on my weddmg day, and wear thenceforth the garments ofyonlh and joy. Thlsieqnlred an entire refurnishing of wardrobe. So the bnsy, lisppy sammer pasaed on, with its magical splendors, its airs of balm, its olam grandeur of snnrismgs, its flery goldeu aud crimson pomp of sunsets, its white moons, and still, dewy nighta.
Three days before tbe one appointed for oor weddmg my love.- oame. This was at my re- qnest, that I might havs bis asslstanoe in ar¬ ranging every thing for my departnre. Itwas my wish lo install Mary Ann Willis, rent-free, in the home which I nerer oould consent to sell and was unwilling to rent to strangers who were inoapable of prising or respecting Hi old iModaUoni.   This plan gave het (iMiottu
well as mjttVfoi she hsd beoome warmly at. tsohsd to the plaoe.
She was to reUhi Janet, tbe old serrant, who had been with me for ten years; and aU things wonld be preserved, aa nearly as possi¬ ble, in their fbrmer condition. When this had been settled, and my little property se¬ onred—as Dr. Battbolameir insisted it sbonld be—to myself; when we had paid together ont last rlsit to the grare where my father slept in peaoe beside bis lost Rachel—wbere tbe flowera were still fresh, and the trees, tbeir roots nourished' in tbat soil so rioh with dead humanity, wared greenly as in Jane, all was done, and we wont .home to spend onr last evening before we shoald be made one forerer. " Indulge me, Kathie," Dr. Bartholemew had whispered, as we went into tbe bouse, wbile the.last sunset rays kindled the windows till tbey glowed like flames; " I want to see yon to-night in yoor bridal robes. To-morrow tbere will be so mocb confasion—so little time."
I slipped away qaietly and put on my wed¬ ding gear, and then I went down to the stau;- oase in the gathering gloom, and sought him wbere he sat alone in the parlor, with its walnscotings of oraren oak.
The west window was open, and he leaned out of It, watching the changing olouda. I went op to him, and fae tumed round and opened bis arms. " No, yon woold crash me 1" I laoghed. , " So I shoold. Stand there a moment, and let me see the rision before it fades. I want to remember il when Kathie and liiare grown old. Brigbt golden balr; eyes of hearen'a own azure ; pink oheeks; slight, girlish flgore. I think I nerer fold mj bride before bow fair and lorely she is in my eyea. Bot she does not seem real to-ttigbt. That fluttering robe makes her'look white and misty, like a spirit. I fear to touch her, lest she shonid raniah into thin air. Her rery langh sottnds hollow, and has-a ghostly quarer to it. Go away, Katbiei and'oome back iu suoh garb that I shall not be afraid of you."
My heart beat witb a rery human warmth aa I ran np the stairs'. As be said, he bad never spoken to me before ofmy face or form; snd it pleased me to hear that in his eyes I seemed so fair.
We hsd nerer set np ao late together as we did that night. I fantiy that neiiher of ns felt hiolined to sleep. We sat hand in band, wilb tbonghts going back into the past, for¬ ward into the futnre, tremblingly sounding depths of joy, glancing at possible griefs, and feeling slrong to bear any fate so that we met it together. At length, when tbe clock struck twelre, he bethought himself of my bealth. " Here I am," he aaid laughingly, "pror- ing my fitness to be trusted with you by keep¬ ing you np paat mipnlgbt I I must send yon away, or I ahall hare a lily to-morrow and no rose. Good-night Kathie Ward; it wiil be Kathie Bartholemew to morrow I"
I went away from bim, and soon sleep, hap¬ py and restful, olosed my eyes. Tbe last sound I beard waa his footsteps pacing to and fro across the piazza beneath my window. I know not wben he sought hia pillow.
He looked well and happy on the morrow, as if he bad kept no rigils. So intense a ligbt waa in bis dark gray eyes that I hardly dared to meet tbem. His hold on my hand waa Blrong. We were married.
Mary Ann Willis helped me fold away my white robes and put on my trarelilng dreaa in tearfnl ailence. When all waa done ahe came np to me and pressed her soft lips to my cheek. Thera was deep eameslneas in her roice:
" God blesa you, Kathie I Yoo bare been a good ohild to me, and I woold gire more, lhan one year of my remnant of life to inaure your bapphtea."
" Don't you tbink that il ts aure 1 Am I not a good man's wife ?"
" Yes, child, yon are a wife—a good man's wife; bnt marriage, soarcsly leaa lhan birth, ia the beginnig of a new life. You hare to leam sometbing oiroumstanoea bave never yet taught yon—to sobmit 1" It most come. Will you leam it by hard lesaons, creasy? You have a fond heart, Kath!e,but it is prond, and your will is strong. Forgive me, but I believe I feol for you almoat as yonr mother would."
For a moment her words saddened me; but when I felt the lender touoh of Dr. Bartbole¬ mew's hand as he put mo iuto the carriage, and mot his fond eyes, 1 thongbt, witb a smile at ber simplicity.
" As if his will aud mine could ever claah— aa if we did not love eaoh otber far too dearly to bave need of any auoh word as submit 1" It was almost nightfall the next day when we reacbed Philadelphia. I was too weary to notioe tbe streets throngh whicb we rode from the depot, and very glad I fell when we stop¬ ped at last before a handsome but unostenta¬ tious bouse, and, handing me from the carri¬ age, my bnaband said:
" Thia is my home, Kathie. Welcomo my wife 1"
" Sball I aee yonr mother at onoe ?" I ask¬ ed, as we went into tbe ball.
" I believe I will take yon np stairs first. She is waiting for us in the drawing room, I suppose, and I think yoo will feel better to lake off yoor wrappings."
This ohilled me a little. I had never had a mother sinoe I waa old enough lo remember. Perhaps I had been idle enongh to imagine lhat my husband's mother would be all to me that my own might have been. I had pictur¬ ed her as meeting us in the ball; kissing ns; weeping over ns, possibly; calling me her daughter. 1 beleive I had prepared a pretty little gnah of aentiment for the occaaion on my own behalf. The reality was so different from all thia I I walked wearily up alaira and threw myself on a lounge in my own room, too discomposed even to notice with what ten¬ der oare and memory of my every whim or fancy all had been arranged for my coming. Onr trunks followed us immediately, and when mme had been set down my husband asked if he could help me in finding something lo pnt on, for he should like me to change my dress before I went down stairs.
I was half tempted to remonstrate at first— lo ask him if his motber was so exaoting tbat she oonld not receive me, aftor a day of fa¬ tiguing travel^ withont demanding an evening toilet; but I loved him too well, and had been married loo short a time to be willing to dis¬ please bim ; so I only said: "lam so tired I"
"I know it, lore- Were it not that diy mother is waiting to aee yoo, yon shoold hare yoor tea up here, and retire at once. Aa it is, you would not mind tbe trouble of cbang ing your diess if you knew how anxious I am that she shoald admire you at first sight as muoh as I did."
I made no further objeotions. I bathed my face, arranged my hair, 3nd[pat on a hand¬ some bine silk, wilb pretty, delicate laces.— Despite my fatigue, I waa rewarded by tbe thanks and kiss which awaited uie, and the look of pride on my husband's faoe as he took me down siairs and into the spaclona drawing room.
Al nearly Its other extremity a large, state¬ ly-looking woman, dressed in a beavy falling purple satin, sat, as If entbrdned, in a high- backed crimson chair. She reminded me of a queen awaiting homage from her subjects. I felt consoions of being awkward and ili at eaae as she rose and advanced a little to meet ns. Owen—fot so my husband had tanght me to call him—led me along, and tbrough a certain dizzy feeling that threatened to sweep out aight and sound I beud bim say: "Mother, this is Kathie—yonr daughter.' I suppose I gave her my band, for I felt tbe cool touch of hers on my fingers. Her lips jnst bmahed my cheek. I heard ber messnred tones—
• " Welcome, Mrs. Bartholemew I" Andto save my life I could say notbing more than thank7on,iu I diwpped into an eaqr chalt irtil«liD7 hubttiiaMuiimit^^^ tift me'
and listened with sotprin toheatUm talking gayly to his mother—nanatbig Utile incidents of onr jonmey, and aotoally thawing her grare featoms into a smile.
Presently dinner was snnoonced, and sbe led the way Into the dining-room, while I fol¬ lowed with Ornn^aUttlsoomfortedl^ theten. der, iw^saoting pressure of his hanS, Her tones ehlUed me again, however. Sbe asked witb snob cool formality,
" WUl yon take the head of tbe Uble, Urs. Bartholemew, or shall I relieve yon!"
I was too mocb startled to answer at onoe, and while I was oonalderlng wbat I ongbt to do, my bnaband spoke for me :
" Ton had better to-night, dear mother; Kathie is veiy tired."
I mu tired; and I had thongbt, an honr be¬ fore, I was reiy hungry; bat though tbe din¬ ner was more elegant, tbe viands more-delloi- oos than any tbat bad ever before greeted my eyes or my palate, I found it impossible to eat- Something seemed to ohoke me. I am afraid tbat one or two tears dropped into the wine in whioh I drank my own bealth.
After dinner waa 0T«r we went baok into the drawing-room. What would I not bare giren lo steal away awhile by myself; but I knew by my husband's look that tbis was not to be permitted bi the orderof exercisea, so I sat and tried to make oonreraation. Did I not pity the Israelites in that honr ? They were not tfae oniy ones who hare been sent fortb to make bricka withoat straw.
Alter awhile Madame Bartholemew remark¬ ed, in a panse of the talk,
" Perhapa yoo will sing for me, my dear' If you are not too tired, it would gire me great pleasnre. I am rery fond of mnaio, and I hare looked forward with maoh anticipation to tho preaence of a younger lady than my¬ self, wbo would make the house a little lire- lier."
" I do not sing." I am afraid I anawered stiffly. " Will you play for mo, then ?" " I do not play. I am not mnslcal. I bare no aooomplisbments. Did not Dr. Barthole¬ mew tell yoo that his choice waa an unformed oountry girl ?•'
I BUW ber oast a glanoe at him—^partly, I thonght of inqubry; partly of rexation. He oame lo my relief instantly:
"Kathie underrates heraelf, dear mother. At least you will find tbat aha is thorongiily educated, snd posaesses many acquirements of more raloe tban music or dancing to the hap¬ piness of oar home."
I do not tbink it was aii agreeable erening to any of as. How different it waa from my fond maiden dreamings of my home-coming I I beliove we were all glad when the tea was bronght in, and my fatigue gave us a fit ex¬ cuse for ssparatlng. That nigbt the pale, proud face of Owen's mother, with the black hair oversweephig the passionless brow, haonted my vory dreams.
Time went on, and where waa tbe bappmeaa I had plotured so fondly througb monlhs of hoping and waiting? Itwas tbere, perhaps anchored in Owen's heart, sbeilered by his love. But I oould not realize It—my life had so many petty vexations. I did not like Madame Bartholemew. That is phrasing it loo weakly. I believe in my beart I hated her. At first I made aome slight attempts to pleaae hoc. I had anapected lhat she desired slill to remain mistreas of her son's household; so I had quietly given up lo her tbe place of honor at tho table, and sedulously avoided interfering with any of ber former prerogatives. For this I had expected at least silent gralilnde—I was not prepared to bave her assnme that she was doing me a faror-relieving me from a oharge for whioh natnral incapacity, no less lhan yonth and inexperience, rendered me unflt.
I wrote now and then to Mary Ann Willia, and I know my letlers mnat have saddened ber, for I wrote of anyihing rather lhan my own life. I was loo proud to complain, too honeat to feign a satisfaction and happineas which I did not feel. Sometimos I thought of her words, and wondered whether I might not be lo blame for the existing state of affairs. I oould not, however, bring myself to feel that I waa. I aaid to myaelf lhat il was all the fault oflbat oold,-proud, domineering womau. If ahe were but out of tbe way, Owen and I might be ao happy. 1 lielieve my tbonghts of her were almoat mtuderous. I longed, I fear, for ber to die, lo remove forever the blaok shadow that stood betwixt me aud the sunlight.
If I bad only lold my husband it would have been better. Bat I ahal myself up in solemn silence. I was not going lo complain lo bim of hia own motbor, I said, proudly. Ifhe conid not sue, if our life was happy enough, as it seemed to be, for him, tben let all real. I for¬ got lhat in giving him myaelf I had given him a right lo every thouglit of my heart. What ia marriage if in lha inner and most saored life—the life of the soul—ono is ainglo atill ?
If I had been with him more constantly i' migbt have been - different; bat his praotice was a large, and lhat Fallaveryaiokly aeason. Fever was in the au:. Malignant typhus was seizing unwilling victima, parching tbeir throata, maddening tbeir braina, draining tbe springs of their lives. Bat the pestilence came not near our houae, whence, I used to thinki he would have been welcome to take one vie. tim—ber or me—I felt, in. my deapair, aa if it mattered little whiob. Owen worked inoea- sanlly. He wonld coma home, hot, feverieb— I oould not bare bome to see tbe fever taint on Aim—but pale and worn; needing repose too mucb for me to disturb him witb any petty vexations of my own. Sometimes be would eay, as I aat beaide him while he tried to anatoh a few moments of real,'
" Thia ia but a dismal honey-moon for you poor oblldl By-and-by I sball bare more leisure to procure for yon some of the pleasures I had planned ; but yon musl hara patience. It is a comfort, at leaat, that I can see your faoe when I come home, and hare you to ait beaide me as now."
With Deoember oame settled weatber, olear and cold, and there were few new oasea of ferer. Owen bad more time to bestow on me i and now, had it not been for the preaence of Madame Bartholomew, I might indeed hare enjo3'ed the life whioh opened before me. Pic¬ ture galleriea, oonceria, lectnrea, and, lo orown all, tbe opera. I remember the magical fasci¬ nation of my first night. The opera was " Nor¬ ma," and the ^irimo donno waa Grisi. Will mnsio erer again so thrill me ? Will tbe lights erer be so brilliaiit ? Will the faces erer look so fair ? Forthe time I forgot tbe blaok shadow lhat gloomed belween me and my happineaa ; I enjoyed with the fnllneaa and freahness of a child.
[OONOLDSIOS IK ODE KEXT.]
[From th. H. Y. MrthodUi.]
A STOBT f OB THE UTTLE POLKS.
Bo87 £ee'8 Thanksgiving. .  "Good morning, Bosy.   How's grandmother
A worthy deaoon, making an offioial risit to a dymg neighbor, wbo was a reiy obnrilah and nniversally unpopular man, pat the naaal question : " Are you willing to go, my frieud ?" "Oh, yea," said the sick man, "I am.'i " Well," said the simple-minded deaoon, " I am glad yon are, for all tha neighbors are wlUIng, too."
A kind-hearted wife onoe waited on a physi¬ cian to request him to prescribe for her hns¬ band's eyes, whiob were sore. " Let him wash them every morning witb brandy," said the docior. A few weeka afler the dootor chanced to meet tbe vrife. " Well, haa your husband followod my advioe f" "He bas dona erery¬ thing m bis power to do it, doctor, bnt be never could get the brandy higber than bis month."
Jones had been ont to a champagne party, aud retumed home at a late honr. He had hardly got inlo the houae when the olook stmok four. "One—one—one—one," hiooupped Jonos. I say, Mrs. Jonea, thia clock is oatof order; il bas atrack one four times."
A gentleman was teoently roused np in the night, and told that hia wife was dead. Ee tnmed round, drew tfae coverlet oloser, pnlled down hla nlgbt-oap, and mattered, as he went to sleep agalB, ••Ob,hairgtieT«dIihaabeln thewoinliiSl"
to-day?"
"0 Miss MUlerl bow;:da yon do? Good moming I" and Kosy Lee stopped in her brisk walk, and hell ont her hand with a brigbt hick to the lady wbo had greeted bet at the street-crossing.
"Very well," answered Miss Miller pleasant¬ ly, " and I see jou are, by yonr red cheeks.— Is yoor grandmother's rheumatism betiet?"
"Notmnoh," said Eoay; "she hardly gets any sleep at night, het arms ache BO. I do wish she covld get better."
" So do I," said Mias Ulller kbidly," and by the way, Eosy, I're got a prescription lhat might be good for ber. Old Mrs. Clinton told me of it, yesterday.' She has had a great deal of rheumatism, and notUng ever did her bo much good, sbe says."
"Ohl pleaseteU me whatit is,"Bosy ex¬ claimed eagerly.
"Yon mnstget a qnartof port wine, aponnd of laslns, and a pound ot loaf sugar," said Miss MUler. " Then mix them all together, and take a wine-glass fnU three times a day. That ia the receipt, and Mrs. Clinton says it bas helped her a great deal Yonr grandmother had better try it—it will not hurt her at any rate."
" I'U teUber about it," answereid Eosy, "and I'm rery mnch obliged to you. Miss MiUer." Bat someway her face did not look so bright, and ber rolce was not so obeerful as it had been a minnte befare; and when Miss MUler said good-by, and tnrned down the side-street, Bosy broke oat with a balf-petolant, balf aor- rowfal expressiou.
" Port wine, and raisins, and loaf sugar. In¬ deed 1 Where does she think we are go'mg to get them, when we oan hardly afford a onp of tea for grandma to driuk ? Oh I dear I If I only knew how to earn a little more money. Bnt I work as hard as erer I can, now."
The bundle of flnished sewmg that she was carrying home, prored tfaat sbe was not Idle, indeed; and anybody wfao had peeped into old Urs. Lee's tidy litlle lodgings at any hour of tbe day, wonld hare fonnd ont the same truth. For Bosy was busy from moming tiU night; she was cook, and laundress, and boosemald, and ererything else In their little establish¬ ment, for now that grandmother's rheumatism bad fallen into her arms and bands, sba was not able to do a single tbing. And in' addition to all the housework, Eosy Uad to take in sewing to make their small income sufficient for actual necessaries of food and olothing. It waa not so hard wben her grandmother waa weU; sfae sewed rery nicely, and knit beauti¬ fnl sooks and mittens whioh found a ready sale, and Rosy had sleady customers for her neat work; so that with the Uttle annuity which Boay's father had left for them wfaen fae died, tfaey managed to live qnite comfortably in an economical way.
Now, it waa rery faard to get along 'at aU. So much more work fell upon the ohild ou ac¬ count of grandmother's iUness, tfaat of necea¬ aity afae earned less with her needle ; and in spite of her cheerful disposition, and her nat¬ nral habit of looking at lbs bright side of thinga, her heart grew rery heavy somelimes, aud she felt almost ready to despair.
"I wonder what'a the reaaon,"sfae thonght as aho walked alowely down the slreet. " lhat some people have so muoh more tban they need in tbis world, and others so muoh less. Jnat look at Mra. Clinton, now; Buoh beauti¬ ful rooma as Bhe hsa, aud everything about ber ao costly and fine, and I beard Mies Miller say that she was ao rich she did not know bow to spend faer money- And tfaink of grandma—poor, dear grandma I faow sfae must suffer so mnch pain, jnst bscause we can't af¬ ford to get medicine tbat would cute her. I suppose it must be all right, but it does seem very strange."
Older jmd wiser people than Eosy have poz¬ zled over the same problem many a time, and always will, I suppose, till tbe world comes to au end. But the only tbing to do, for great or small, is to adopt the child's faith, and, believe that " il ia all right," ucame it it God's wilt, no matter how strange and hard it may seem sometimes.
Sbehad reached Mrs. Clinton's houae by thla time, for it wss lo her that the work be¬ longed ; and tbe servant who was shaking the mats at tbe door told her to " go right np- BtairB, Mrs. Clinton was expeoting her." bo Eoay mounted the elegant staircase, and fouud her way to the large and luxurious chamber whare the old lady sat for the great¬ er part ol the day. She was silling in a great eaay-cbair oovered wilh velvet, with velvet onsblons at her feet, and all manner of beao- tifal and costly things all aronnd her. An inlaid table at her right hand held a silver baaket full of delicious hot-houae grapes, a Bohemian vase iu the window was filled wilh loveliest flowers, and on anolher lable slood a salt-water aquarium, alooked wilh the cboi¬ ceat Bea-plants and flahes. An unfailing wonder and delight this last bad been to Eosy, who bad more lhan once aaked permisaion to watch the curious flesh-colored anemones, and the brilliant fiah gliding in and out of tbe pretly rook-work cavea. But this moming sbo did uot even glance toward it, and slood so sUent and sad while Mrs. Clinton examined ber work, lhat lho old lady took notice of it, and asked in faer sharp way, peering orer her speotacles.
"What's the matter wilh you that yoo look so glum ? Hava you come to troable, too, like aU the rest of the worid ?"
" I don't know, ma'am," Eoay answered shyly, for ahe did not feel like telling her poor liltle home-aorrows to tbia grand old lady.
" Don't know ? Hnmpb! you're betler off than moat people" said Mrs. CUnlon. "If yon'd seen tbe trouble I have, you'd be apt to know."
Eosy wondered what sort of trouble Mrs. Clinton could bsve, for like a good many other people, she had a nolion that being ricfa was a Bort cf security against all kbida of tiials. She did uol say anyihing, however, and Mrs. Clinton asked her no more questions about heiself. Sbe took out her purse to pay for tbe work, and then seeing Eoaey's eyes fixed on the handaome tidy at the back of her ohair, abe aaked her if sbe knew bow to orotohet. Eosy did, and a bright tbongbt sprung up in her mind. Perhapa Mrs. CUit- tion would give faer some croohet-work to tlo, and it was paid for so much belter than aew¬ ing tbat she migbt possibW get tbe medicine for ber grSndmotber, after all. Sfae was not mistaken, for Mrs. Clinton unfastened tbe tidy from tbe chair, and held it out to Eosy, say¬ ing :—
" If yoo tfaink yoo oan oopy this pattern, yoa may lake it home with you and make me another jtist like it. And I want a set of ta ble-mats besides. If yon'll mske them up right away, I'U pay yoa a good prioe for them.
Bosy was certain of that, for Mra. Clinton always paid ber generously, and she accepted tbe commission wilb a bappy heart. She felt far more brigbt and hopeful as ahe ran briak- ly homeward than she wonld bave beUeved poasible half an honr before; and she worked with such a bearty good-wiU aU day long, tbat tbe tidy was balf finished befoie nigbt oame. Another day fonnd it quite done, and Eoay faurly atarted on ona of the table-mats. Thla was mooh slower work than the tidy, in spite of the elaborate pattem of the other; fot it must all be done in the closet and IbickeBt sticb, so that It took a long time to accomplish a single mat. Bnt she worked diUgently and CheerfaUy, testing herself when she was tired with the pleaaant hope whioh grow stronger every day, of beii^abletoieUere hetgrand- mothet from the pain that she bote so pa- ttaatly. ¦ The weeks pasaed by, ud ThuksgirlBg daj
was close at hand. Bosy had no brigbt ris- 1(|PS of a grand oompany dinner with turkey., and piom-poddbig, and any qaantity of nuts and apples, and music and blind man'a buff in the erening, aa most of my Utile readers indulge in. She bad nerer faad much expe¬ rience of snob thinga, bnt stUl ThankBglving- day had always been made pleasant to her by a little treat of some kmd. And she looked forward to it now more eagerly tban ever be¬ fore, for sbe felt almost, sure that faer crocket- work would bring faer money enongh to ac¬ complish tbe parpose sbe longed for, and leare somethhig orer beaides for a nice Thankagir- Ing dtoner. There were eigbteen mats besides the tidy, and as Eosy added the last one to tbe nest-lookmg pUe, the moming before Thanks¬ giving, she felt reiy proad and happy indeed. " I shall get fire dollars, I know—may be more," she tfaongfat, aa sfae walked along tfae street witb ber precioos bundle to her armsi " and won't grandma be surprised wben she Bees what I BhaU bring her I I'll get It this rery day, as soon as ever Mra. Cltoton girea me the money."
And on she went withaboundtog step, sing¬ ing little Boiaps of songs nnder her breatb aa Bhe danced along, for she felt so happy that abe could not walk aoberly. Mra. Clinton's honse was soon reached at tfais rate, and her eager faand gave tbe beU a rigorons pull tiiat brougbt a servant to quick time to tfae door. "Ohl it'a you la it?" for tfaey aU knew Eosy's faoe well enough. " Why didn't you pull off the beU-bandle, I wonder ? What are yon oome for now ?"
" I want to see Mre. Clinton—I're brougfat some work bome," aaid Eoay cheerfaUy, for she did not mind the serrant-girl'a saucy ways.
" WeU yon oan't see her, she won't see no¬ body to-day," waa the anawer.
" Oh t bnt I must 1" Eosy exolaimed eamest- ly. " It's some work that she's rery particu¬ lar abont, and she wants to see me faeraelf."
"I oan't help tfaat," persisted tfae girl. Sbe'a got a bad faeadacfae, and sfae's giren ordera that nobody at all ia to oome In; and I an't agoto' to disobey 'em for you nor nobody, so yon'U jnst bave to call again."
"Oh I dearl" Eoay exclaimed, feeling ready to ory to her distress and disappointment, " I do want to see her so muoh! Won't you ploase joat teU her I'm here, and see if she won't let me come op?"
" No indeed, I shan't 1'' was the croaa retort. " I wonldn't dare lo, and it's aU nonsenae any way. Yoo can come agato easy enoagh. So tbere I"
And sbe made a motion as if to shut tbe door to faer face. Eosy retreated, too morti¬ fied and angry to say another word, and ran down the steps wilh a sob choktog iu ber throat. She faad faardly got to tfaa bottom be¬ fore tfae door opened again, and tfae pert voice oaUed after ber :—
" I aay I yon'd better not come to-morrow, neither, for there'a going to be company here all day, and Mrs. Clinton won't want lo be bothered wilh yoir. You hear, don't you ?". And then the door alammed again, and poor Eosy was left alone in the slreet to overcome her bitter disappointment and indignation the best way she could. It seemed loo muoh lo be bome indeeJ, and bot tears blinded her eyes, and pasaionate thoughts swelled in her beart as she thongbt of tho unjnstand insult¬ ing way to whicb abe had been treated.
" It's jnat becauae I'm poor, and poor peo¬ ple are alwaya Irealed like dogs," she said bilteriy, naver caring that aha spoka alond, and anybody might hear her. " She must'n be disturbed whan she bas a beadache; bnt it don't make any difference how many bead¬ aches I have over ber work. And aa long aa her Thankagiving ian't bothered, ifa no mat. tor whether J have any or nol! I've a great mind to throw her mats in the alreet, and never go near the houae again !"
Foor Eoay I You muat remember. In excuse for such wrong and passionate worda, how gieivona her diaappointment had been, how completely her pleasant plana were overthrown and how her Thankaglving-day would be spoUed entirely for want of tbis money. It was very wrong ; I know, for her lo think and speak in this way; bnt it must be remembered tbat her provocalion was nol amall.
She waa hurrying on, too full of her grief and indignation to aea anybody, and so it bap- ¦ paned that in turning a corner she ran againat her friend, Misa Miller, and had almost thrown faer down before she reoognized her. She mut¬ tered out a haaty " I beg yonr pardon. Miss Miller; I didn't mean to do it," and was raah ing on again, for ahe did not feel like stopping to talk But Misa Miller laid her hand npon faer ahoulder and forced hef to atop.
" What in the world is the matler with you Eosy ?" she exclaimed in wonder at the ohild's red aud tear-stained face. " I don't beliere I ever aaw you crying before I What has hap- penei, my ohild 1"
The kind voice, tbe reatly aympathy, were loo muoh for Kosy in hor excited etate of feel¬ ing. She broke out passionately with the whole Btory, and told Misa Miller, wilh plenty of sobs and tears between, all about ber tbree week's work, and what she had intended to do with the money, and how all ber plans had been upset by Mrs. Clinton's refusal to aee her.— Mias Miller listened witfa tfae deepest intereat; she had never known before that her little pupU waa ao poor, for Eosy and her grand¬ mother were bolb too prond ever to speak of their wanls. But Rosy was too exoited uow to think of pride, and it waa a comfort lo lell all her trouble to ao kind a liatener. She did not expeot any other comfort from it, for it never occarred lo her tbat her teacher could help her in any way. Bnt Uiss Miller was nol one ever to lose an opportunity to do a kind ness, and she made up faer miud that Mrs. Cltoton should know the whole slory before tbe day was over. She did nol lell Eosy so. but as soon as the ohild had gone home she turned ber atepa loward Mra. Clmlon'a bonse. Wbat she accomplished tbere, we aball find out best by looking into Mrs. Lee's snug liltle sitting-room abont dnsk of the same day.
The fire was bnmiog cheerily in their little cooking-stove, and the tea-kettle ainging in tune. Old Mra. Lee was dozing In her arm¬ chair, forgelting ber rhenmatiam forthe time, and Rosy standing by the window, looking out into the lighted street, wbere all the shops wero displaying thair gayest warea in prepara¬ tion for Thanksgiving. All at onoe there oamo a Bounding rap at the door tbat alarlled Mra. Lee from her nap, and aent Eoay in haste lo see wfaat tfae matler was. There stood a man with a letter In one hand and a big bosket to the other.
" Tbeae are for you, Misa," was all he said, and Belting his baaket inaide the door as fae gave Rosy tbe latter, he went down siairs three steps at a lime, and had slammed tbe Btreet-door before Rosy had waked np from her aatoniahment enough lo apeak to him.— She lighted a lamp to eager haste, and lore open the letter lo fiud out lha mystery. Two notea were toclosed, and the firat one waa from Mias MUler:—
" Mt Deab Eosy :—I thtok you will have a happy Thanksgivtog in spite of yonr disap¬ pointment tbis momtog. Mrs. Citoton's nota wUl explain everythtog, and I know yon will enjoy the baBket of good tbtoga whiob she has senl for your holiday. I hare sent yoa a Ultle presont too, whioh I hope will pleaae yotu— With best wishes for your Thanksgiving, deat child, your affeotionate teaoher,
"Maet Milike."
Mis. Citoton's notewas thiB :—
otber were two bottles of port wtoe, and to the spaco between a raristy of nice thb^s were packed. First came pnt a large mtooe- ple, next a brown paper foU of loaf-sugar, then aiiothet fiUed with raisins, and atthe bottom of the basket a quantity of rosy-oheek- ed Spltzenbeigs, and smooth brown watonts showed their pleaaant faces. These last and tfae mince.ple were Uiss MiUei's present; but all the other tfatogs had oome from Ura. Clto¬ ton, wbo waa rery weU able to gire them^ and whose ownThanksgiring was made hap¬ py by the thought of poor Uttle Eosy's pleaa¬ nre to receiving them.
I haven't time to teU yon aU the exclama¬ tions of wonder and delight that were made orer the baaket, nor yet what a happy Thanks- girtog day was spent to that little room. You can gness all that, but I must tell yon one thtog—that Ure. CUnton's receipt roaUy pior¬ ed a,jreatroUef, aud before the two bottles of wine were aU nsed up grandmother's rheuma¬ tism was so mnoh better that sbe oould help Eosy a great deal, and they got on rery com¬ fortably all tbroogb tbe wtoter. And anotber tbtog I mnst teU yon, that Eosy leamed a lesson of trast to Qod's lortog oare and ktod- ness from that thanksgivtog day which made her betler and happier aU tlie rest of her life.
IH UEHOBIAU.
Another Uttle form asleep,
AndaUULaplrltgone-, Anotber little voice ia hoabsd,
Another angel bom.
Two UtUo feet are on tbe way To tb. Home beyond tbe skies,
And onr hearts are like the void tbat comes When a strain of muaic dies.
A pair of UlUe baby aboaa,
And a lock of golden bair; Th^toT onr liltlB darUng loved,
AnaiOli>,iref^ib:^a.ei to wear^
Tbe lltUa grave in tbo abady nook Wbera tbe flowera love to grow—
And these are all tbe UtUa bope Tbat came tbree yeara ago.
Tha birda wUl ait onr.he brancb abova
And Bios a requiem To tbe baaullfnl Uttle aleepiag form
That uaed to aing to tbem.
But nevar again wlU tbe Utile lipa
To tbelr aonga of lore reply. For that silvery voica ia blended with
Tbe minstrelsy on bigh.
THE STEIKE OF THE HASH-EAT¬ ERS.
A TitE OF THE B0(A)BDEB3.
"Mr nBAE CmLn:—I waa both Burprised and indignant when Miss UUler told me cf tbe way to which you had been treated by my rade servant girl. I bare given het a lecture for it, and told ber that if she erer speaks im- perttoently to you again she shall be dismissed. I send yon six doUara fot yont woik, which is beaatlfolly done, and I am rery sorry tbat yoa were disappototed this momlng. Gire my regards lo yonr grandmotber, and tell her totry my remedy for rheumatism. I am snre it wUl do her good."
The next thing was to examtoe the basket, andawondeifai baaket it prored tobe. At im eni of it 1*7 » flne fit tBifce^; at the
Mr. Elibu Smackmallet was a gentleman of venerable aapeot-tall, dignified, with fiowing I gray hair, aud beard of a moat patriatohial length—posaeasing to a venerable degree that suaviter in modo, which, jomed to a prepos- sess'mg exterior, renders an unacrupulona, do- signing man more dangerons thau the indi¬ vidaal who borrows your purse or walch by a COMP de pistol on the public highway.
Mr. Smackmallet was a reformer—a "per- tedivt reformer " (to use his own words)- which means tbat he adopted every new fan- gled ism to whicb the idioaynoraaiaa of the age gave birth—embracing, among othera, Fourier- iam, Communism, Spiritualism, oto., elc , ad Hh., and whicb, somehow or other, he always managed to tura to private aocount. Ite waa a humanitarian of tbe'Srat waler—in theory. Said he, in conversing with ma one day, " Mr. Fitz Quiz, benerolonco bas always been my bane !"—to which we menially remarked in the langnage of Lord Nelaon at Copenhagen, "I don't see it!"
Once npon a time, Mr. Smackmallet con¬ ceived a happy idea: he would slart a news¬ paper ! This sheet should ba devoled to per¬ fective reform, humanitarian ideas, isms con¬ genial, and oheap advertiaementa^—eapecially the latter. In it ha would reform sociely, hurl anathemas against social evils, advocate the advanoement and elevation of the hnman race, and insert advartiaementa at four cents per line. BrilUant conceplion—profitable un¬ dertaking!   Bnt alas!-
" The best laid plans o'mlce and men gang aft, agiee,'' and after a short-lived existence, the aforesaid paper expired of contracted " sinews" and an affection of the cheat.
Nothing daunted, however, by .the non-sno- ceas of hia first attempt, Eliba delermined to try again. He had conceived auother idea.— He would purchase the reqtlialte materialSi make his house the printing-offlca aud sanctum' and board the compositoia. He would be his own editor, (aciasora!) canvaaaer and carrier. Indomitable perseverance 1 He would change hia tactica—drop hia isms to a oertain extent, let society and lha human race take care of themaelves, and devote himself to advertiae¬ ments at two cenla per lme. He entered upon his project, and success seemed to dawn npon bis efforts. He started his papsr,—hired his oompositora, and took tfaem into the bosom of bia family.    And now began his trials.
Mr. Smackmallet was not a "hasheesh eater," but uevertbeleaB hath waa a favorite artiole of diet in his family. Ill-natured peo¬ ple Baid it was on aeoonnt of its cheapness.— Now, bash, ia not bad eating, if. yoo only know who makes; it and wbat it is com¬ posed of; bnt the -thought that is mado of the debrig ol tbe previous meal—half gnawed remnants of meat and varions odds and ends of the cuisine—is not oaloulated to sharpen tbe appetite for that partloular dish ; in faot, you eat it somewhat after the styla of the man who tmdertook lo devour a piece of buzzard on a wager,bul wbo remarked in the endeavor, " I kin eat buzzard, bul I'll be derned ef I hanker arter it 1"
Afler a while, the compositors began to ge lired of hash 1 Singular, too. Mr. and Mrs. S., thought they were very unreasonable— couldn't undersland il 1 Tbey didn't see why the typos should complain—thoy had plenty of it. One morning however, Simkina, in be¬ half of the others, remarked:
" llr. Smaokmallet, I won't stand Ibis any longer.    I'm tired of hash !"
"Tired of hashi" ejaculated Mr. S., "why, I thongbtyou liked it."
" Yea," rejoined Simklns, " it'll do well enough for a few weeks, but then who wants to live on it altogether ? You mighl give ua meat once in a while."
"Why," said Elihu, " you had meal lasl month!"
"Liver!" contemptuously answered Sim kins, tbe end of fais nose touching his forehead aa he spoke.
"WeU, isn't that good enongh ?" aaked Mrs. S. " Tfaat's better than tome people deserve !"
"'T ian't good enough for me!" said Sim- kins. " You ought lo give us beefsteak now and then."
"We can't afford lo give you beef-steak these baid times," replied Smackmallet— " can we, my dear ?" appeaUng to his betler half.
* No, of oonrae not," said Mrs. S. " Mr. Simkins, you ought to be aabamed of yonr¬ eelf, to grumble at yonr victuals. You have as good as we bave ourselves."
" It don't suit me to live on bash, Ifaough,"
puraued Simkina,   "and I won't be obliged
to any longer.   People wbo pay fonr dollars
[.a week for board ongbt to have something
better than hash I"
" Well, if yoo don't like your livtog, you'd betler go somewhere else !" said S.
" Jnst what I totend to do," rejoined Sim- kins.
" Mr. Simkina, I Bball dispenae with your services hereafter 1" said Mr. S. " Yon are not wanted any longer in the printing-of¬ fice."
" I don't caro for that I" anawered Slmp_ kins. "Tfaere are oifaer places io work be. sides youra.   Do you know what I think of
you; you're a d d old hypocrite, aud you
ara not a fit peraon for a decent man to work for."
" Get out of my honae I" said Smackmal¬ let, rery todignantly. " I don't want you fo nae auoh language to me 1"
"I'U go wben I get ready," rejotood Sim¬ kina. " Come, boys, let's leare tbe old ones to get ont ths paper himself I"
The othera, baring made Sbnklns their spokesman in this matter, atarted ont to make
resolved beforehand to dissolve bonneotion with the esUbllshment of " Old Smack," as they Irrevelently called him, nnless they oould have some improvement to their biU of fare. Thia was more than onr friend Smack bad coanted on. He was underthe Impression that tbe dlsafliKtlon was conflned lo Simklns alone, bntwhen he fbnnd that it had extend¬ ed to the others, fae begau to tfaink of com¬ promise, ;(like many othera, when they get toto a bad box, he was wUling lo compromise to get out of it,) so he went to the office and addreased them:—.
" Now, boya, I don't want you to go off in thia way. I didn't know that yon were dissat¬ isfied with your living. Ifyon bad mentioned the malter to me before, I would have recti¬ fied it."
After a Utile persuasion, and a promise on tbe part of Mr. Smackmallet to change their fare for tfae better, tfae typos concluded to sUy-aU exoept Simkina, who grambled about "Old Smack faombnggtog the men—didn't believe he'd keep his word," and rarious oth¬ er tooredulous remarka, which Mr. Smackmal¬ let overheard as he was going ont, and tnrn¬ ing to falm, said :—
"Ur. Simkins, yoor language ia perfectly inexcusable. If you stay in this office, I shaU require au apology from you."
" I'U Bee yon d d first!" was the only
reply. " I don't want to stay in your old crib any longer. I wonldn't trust you any furiher lhan I oould sling a bull by the UU I"
So saying, Simkins started off with bis oar- pet-bag, conuining aU faia woridly effects in fais hand, fprinter's baggage is generally very limited,) bidding aden to fala lata companions, and inwardly cursing "old Smaok" and bis hasfa as he went.
Simkina evidently left under tbe impression that there would not be any permanent change in the Smaokmallet bill of fara. Ha was wrong, bowever; there was—au imporUnt cfaange. Hasfa was thencafortfa Ubooed, and aalt fish reigned in^iU stead. Broiled salt fish for breakfast—boUed salt fish for dinner- fried salt flah for tea—aalt fiah in every form known to the acience of cookery. How muoh the victims mada by the change, tbe present deponent does not know It is only known that when Simkins haarl of the variation, from another of the victims who had left, he ejaoulated :—
" Left off hash, bave they, and taken to aalt fish ?   Wby the deuce didn't lhey haah the flsh ?—tben lhey could have had two deUoa¬ oies at onoe!" So much for tbe " Strike ofthe Haah-Katera."
TESTATE  OF JOHN   HARTJIAIS,
l^J lata of Straabarg township, deoea>ed.—Lettars TeatamenUry on aald eetate having baaa granted to the nndorBlgnod, all peraona Indebted thereto are requested to mata Immediate payment, and thoea having claim.? or demands againet the Name wl'I present tbom for bet- tlamcnt to Iheon.iaei-MigoQd.    HL:iSRT H. KUET2,
aianhalm Towneblii. JACOBHOHEi:E,jr. nov 27-61-1 EuBt Lampeter iwp.
. S3-Lewiabarg Chronicle copy tJ ilmea and cbarge Examloer.	
ESTATE of JOHN KOFfSoTjET; [ate jfSalUbnry towndblp, deceaaed.—Letters of »d- minislratlon on said eatata having bean granted to tha aaderdigned, all peraons indebted tbereto are re(xaet)Ud to makoimmediatepayment,aod tboae bavingdemaads against the same will preient them for Bettlement to the nnderslgned, residing In wald townahip.
E.W.MOBTON. no 27-6i*l Adminlslrjitor.
ESTATii: of ADDILA HUBJ5R, late of Eiat Hempfleid townphip. decesded. Lettera of iidminihtr-'itionpa saUl Cfiiate huvlng been srsated to th» nnderslgnod. a 1 perauna indebted ihareto are reqaettad to make immodiato payment, Rod thosa bavlng clalma or demandd against tha same will prasent them for set- tlemont to the nnderolgnad, ro^idini; la i-ald townabip. nov 20.Bt.52 HENET HDBEK
ESTATE of JOHN DENLINGEU, late of Eaot Lampeter towodhlp, deceaeed.—Let- lore of admlnlsiratlon on eaid ealate having beea grant¬ ed to the andersigned. all persona Indebted therelo are reqaested to make immediate payment, and IboHS hav¬ ing claims or demands againbt the same are reqnested to preaeat them for eettlsment to the aadsreigned, withont delay. DANIEL DESLIHOEB,
JOHN  Q   DENLINGEE, resldlngln Eaiit Lampetor twn.
Samoel denlinoek.
residing In Leacock twp. DAVID LAND16. no 13 6t"6l residing lu West Lampeter twp.
A SSIGNED  ESTATE oFjACOB
J\, B. KAUFFMAN & WIFE, of Manor township, Lancaater co. Having by tleed of volonlary assign¬ ment, dated tbe .-ilat day of OCTOBSEi. 1S61, aaslgnbd and transferred »U thalr estate and offecta to the onder- Hlgned, for the beneflt of tha eredltora of eald Jacob 8. Kaaffman, be therefore, hereby glvea notica to all persona knowlog themaelvaa indehied to eald Assignor, 10 make paymeot to tho anderslgned wUtiont delay, and thosa having claims against nlm to present them to the nnderelgned. UENRY. 8. KaUFFMaN,
no 13-H*fil Ea-st Hempfleid twp.
A SSIGNED ESTATE OF JAMES
J\_ PEAESON, of West HempUeld township. Having hy deed of OCTOBER i;9th, ISdl, assigned all bis eatate to the nndersigned in trnat for tbo buoeat of creditors, all persona indabted to fi<ild esiate ato reqaested to make immediate payment, and thoaa baviog clalmu Bgainst tho Bame will present lhem to tha anaereigned aselgnee, residing ia West Uempfleld lwp.
nol3.6l«5l JAUOB M. GKIDEK.
NOTICE. npHE UDdersigned, appointed Auditor
t. by the Court of Common PldAS of Lancaator coaaty to distribate the balance ramuLolo.^ in the hande of Abraham Eriaman, one of tb-? Asslgaaas of Chrlitlaa Herebey and Aun ble wife, amoag tnose legally entUled to the eame hereby gives notice that be will attend for tbe pnrpoao of hie appointment in tha Library room of tba Coart Hoase, in tbe city of Lancaster.oa WBDNES¬ DAT, the lUb day of DECEIIBEK next. (I66l)ata o'clock. P.M., when and where ali peraooa Interested may attend \t they thlak proper.
nov 13-41-51 ABRaU SHANK. Aadltor.
EISTATE of MARY WATSON^ hite i ot Providence twp , dec'd.—Lettera of admlcljcra- tion on said estate having been granted to tho nndor- slgned, «U peraona IndebtoJ thereto are reqnested to make Immedlata paymeat, and those hj.vlag claims or demanda againat the eama will present theu fot bettle¬ ment to tbe vrndoFEilgaed, reaiding In Martlc twp. oct3Q6l'-ig  HIEaM WATaON.
HOTICE.
TO the heira and legal representatives of 3DSAKNA BPOTTS. lale of Caraarvon Townehlp, Laucaster coanty. Pa. dec'd. Too are hereby aotlfied Ibat hy vlrtare-of ao order of tbe Orphana' I'onrt of Lancaater County to me directed, I wlll'hold aa Inqaest to divide, part or valne the Keal EsUte of tinsanna ."'polls, dec'd, oaTUUKBDA? tho 19th dAy of DBCBM- BER. 1861, utld o'clock, A. M., at tha premiees in Car¬ narvon Twp., Lancastor connty, when and whara yoa may attend If yon think proper.
Sheriff's Office, Lan.
Hov. r nov 27
.W.P, BOTD, Sheriff. 4t-l
BRIGADE HOTICE. rj^HE undersigued hereby gives notice
J,    that the offlcera of ths 2ad Brigade, 3d Dlviiion, 1'. M., will meet on TOESDaY. the nth day of DECEM¬ BER, ISCl, at  I o'clock, P. M., al the  Pnhlic  Ho oso of JOUN DITLOW, in Eoat King street, in thj city of Lan. caater, for tbe pnrpose of paying tbe expenses Incurred by lhe meeting of said Brigade, and alfo to make dis¬ tribution among the compauiea entitled thnreto. M.R. WITWER, Brlc Gen of lho 2d Brigade, 3d DtvUlon, P. M. nov 27 3t-l
Bbara of tbo pnbUo patronaga. t^CleanCoal andfuU wetgfU guaranteed to aH. preptUtloaa tor ft general  exodos,  having [   apra7-iy-3i LSVI KLLMAKBB,'
BAHK HOTICE.
NOTIOE i.s hereby given that the President and DirBclors of the Lancaator Coanty Bank, intend to make application to tha Legialaturo uf thecommonwealth of PcnDsylvaala, at ibelr next ees- alon, fur a renewal of the charter, and an extension of tbeprivilegesof the aald Bank, with all the rigbta and privileges now enjoyed, for a term of twenty years, from tbe expiration of the present charter, wltb ihs eame name title, locatioa and capital of $300,000. By order. W. L. PEIPEB,
JaJ10-6m-33 Ca.'ihSer Lani-asier Co. Baak
CITY TAX HOTICE.
ALL City Tax remaining unpaid oa the'iadayof DECEMBER next. wttl. according loan ordinance of the City of Lancaater, be placed In the haoda of the Muyor for collection.
UENKT C. WENTZ, no 20 if-S2 Treaanrer and Tax Receiver.
UNITED STATES MABIITES. TXT-ANTED IMMEDIATELY, forac
T T tlTd BerriceiQ tba.Uaited States MariQeCorpx, SOO ABLS-BODIED M£H. All Infiirmatloa igqa red. will b» glvea It tho KondeZTom. 311 fiODTn FBO.NT STKEET, Phlladolphil.      CAPT. J4MES LEWIS,
noT li^U-OI " Recrnltlng Offlc.r.
FOE EENT.
A DWELLING HOUSE, Blacksmith Shop, ShoelDg Shop, a Wagoa Maker Shop, nad a Mow Stable and IJi ACEES OF LAND. A good biiEinesa iadOQS at the pre&eat tlma. Bltuat. J ed In ^aat HempBeld townehlp.   Apply to ^^^^^
ocl 30-tf-19
JOHH itcaOVESH.
CONSUMERS     OF COAL,
ELLTVrATTRH'S
COAL    YAED,
Stia al  the  OU Plaee.
Cor. of Prinoe an-i Lemon eta., one Bqaaro Nortli of the Railroad.
T^HE most convenient yard in tte oity
i    for Coantry Trade, being ont of algbt of tbe cara, and fronting on tw« btreeta. IC^Having procured tba eonrleaa of
JACOB HtBHTHOIiD,
for 15 yeara ncoU and JaTorably known to tbo paople of tUU ^inntT In connection with tbe coal boal- aeaa^'and by glTlng bib eotlra attenUon to tb* baalaaaa, tba anbaoriber bopos to marlt and tacalTe a Uberal