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I T E PUBLISHED IK7BBY SATURDAY, , Âżj. PURDY * p* A. JACKSON, ; n r o i t e Ă d ĂĄ ',â' n : Ăż : Office k Merchant's Exchange, ^Thifd âStory, doBKEii o r M ain and C hsstnut S ts ., T E E M S : %i,00 j#r Ant^nTn in Advance, otherwlM lĂ.ĂO i Ko pa )or discontinued until .âall, arrearages are paid, except jft the option of the publishers. O f ~ _ â 1 «quart.. S -aquari a ... X column.. X column... i-'eolumi. , - r s R a t e s of Advertising]. 1 w.i f l .00 1.72 4.00 0.00 10.00 3.W. . $1:75 3.00 e.oo 10.00 15.00 3m. $4:00 «,00 12.00 20,30 30.00 6 in ., $6.00 ÂĄ8.50 18.00 30.00 50.00 Sixteen lines of solid matter, or less, one Busin ÂĄas Notices double the above rates. Xecal advertising atrates prescribed by law. Cards not exceeding * lines, $3 yer year, AdTer ;ls«rs allowed 4 changcB per year. 1 Tt $10.00 10.00 30.00 60.00 100.00 squarb. JOB PRINTING. w e h Ăą v e f a c i l i t ie s .' u n s u r p a s s e d to r Executing all descriptions of Book and Jqb Printing; ' dispatch, and at rĂšasonable prices. CU80, B U S I N E S S C A R D S . with neatness and X. H. iuTHDT, I D. A. -*r JACK80H. INSURANCE. 1- PURDY' &, JACKSON,â AGENTS FOR THE United States Accident Insurance' Company, of Syri- for ttyis vicinity. Office in the j office of the Oneida Dispatch, Oneida, Madison county, N. Y. EDWARD LOOMIS, THYSIjCIAil'AND SURGEON, WILL At the Oneida Savings Bank, or at his Main 'Street, one door BoĂșthof Dr. J. W ! C. CARSKADDAN, ATTORNEY AT L'AW, ATTORNEY & COUN- BE FOUND residence on Fitch. ' SELLĂR in United! States Courts, Commissioner of Tnn>»HĂ WIaoAnoIrj * « tĂŹ /1 ^fotiirV Public, -iĂŹffiro In Oneida. a Deeds for Wisconsin,' and Kota Stoneâs Block, Madison St Office in Ji Dr. A. E. WALLACE, ~ . | HOMOEOPATHIC fPHYSlClAN & | SURGEON. Office, in the Empire ÂĄBlock; Residence Bread Street, above Stone, Oneida!, N. Y. I - . â -?* >:âą; ,$âą 1 -Ăs'Ă' 1 â âąr m IT Ă7«t.â f» . P U R D Y & JA C K S O N , P r o p r i e t o r s ^ % I m t r t w l ; t e . f i t j j p t g » , l o t t i « , f o r a i u n i . « e n t r a i § e w s . ÂĄOffioein M a rchante* E x c h a n g e . Y O L . , x i n . O N E I D A , M A D I S O N C O U N T Y , N . Y ; , J U L Y 2 8 , 1 8 6 6 . N O . 1 4 . WHAT I LIVE TOE. 1 live for those who love me ,1 - Whoso hearts are kind and true'; For the heaven that smiles above me, And awaits my spirit too; For all human ties that hind me, For .the task by God assigned, me,\ For the-bright hopes left behind me, And the good that I can do. ic,\ I live to learn their story, s Who've suffered for my sake; .To emulate their-glory, And follow in their wake.; Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages, ThĂš noble of all ages, Whose, deeds crown .Historyâs pages, And -Timeâs great volntno make. PHELPS STREET, . JPRIETOR. BACON HOUSE, ONEIDA, C.. BACON PRO- I i ! Drs. PURDY Sc J A C O B S , . PHYSICIANS &SURGEONS.--OFFICE IN DEV- I- EREUX Block, secojnd story, Main' St., Oneida, N. Y. i E. Hi SPO O N E R, ATTORNEY- AND.); COUNSELLOR âą Oneida, Madison ColyN. Y. Office ovd winâs! Store, Madison Street. 1 - . * I k * I ' Drs. FITCH Sc CARPENTER, SURGEONS . &. PHYSICIANS. 'OFFICE r, upjst IN Walrathâs Block, upjstalrs.;- W. R. Fitch, M. D., resi-- Broad and Cherry street 11 w donee comer of t Carpenter, M. D., residence Cherry Street, Schqol House. 11 . W opposite ! MESSINGER Sc, JENKINS, ATTORNEYS ,& COUNSELLORS] AT LAW, Oneida, Madison Co., N. Y. Office.on -Main Street, âąopposite Union Printing Office. 1. N. M E S S I N C E R , NOTARY PUBLIC! FOR MADIS01|i COUNTY, y. Also Licensed Goverunent .Claim Agent for Bounty, Back Pay, Pensions JAS. , NOTARY PUBLIC ; Also\ Commissioner _f Wisconsin and Iowa. &c. B. JENKINS FOR ONEIDA COUNTY.- o Deeds for. Michigan, Illinois, . J. Jj ATTORNEY AN d ] Chitteriango, N. Y. ! L. BAKER,] COUNSELLOR AT LAW, I live to hold communion With all that is devine; To feel there is a union âTwixt Natureâs heartland m ine; To profit by affliction. Reap truths from fields of fiction, Grow wiser from conviction, L And fulfill each'grand design. I live to hail that season, By gifted minds foretold, When man shall live by reason, And not alone by gold; When man to-mari united. The whole world shall ho lighted As Eden was of old. I live for those who love me, For those who know me true; For the heaven that smiles above me, And awaits my spirit too; For the cause that lacks assistance,â For the wrong that needs resistance, And the good that I can do.\- ( M A J O R H E R V E Y âS W E D D I N G , O K T H E C O L O N E L âS D A U G H T E R . y- BENTLEY**. COODELL, 1 -ATTORNEYS. & |COUNSELLORS AT- LAW, Office in-Fioldsâ Block, Mainstrect, Oneida, N. ,Y. Z . T . BBN T L X V , W . GOODLLL. Dr. AL E. CHERRY RESIDENT DENTIST, ONEIDA, N: In Merchantâs Exchange, Up stairs, Main strçct, SHOECRAFT Sc, SNOW, ATTO UNIES & -ÂĄCOUNSELLORS! AT LAW, â Oneida, Madison Co., N. Y. Office in Emprire Block, over Bentl.ej' ifc Dyer's store. John Snow Commis sioner of Deeds-for ÂĄMichigan and Wisconsin. J. E. OSTRANDER, -DENTIST, ONEIDA, MADISON COUNTY, N- . Y. Office eaBt side of Main street, nearly âopposite theWalrath Block., All work warranted. J. A. BENNETT, i MANUFACTURER; OF TIN, ; COPPER. AND' Sheet Ironware, and dcalĂšr in Stoves and Iron Ware generally.' Number,4, Empire Block, Oneida. T. D.1 H I C H C A T E , , FASHIONABLE BARBERING, ROOMS OPPO- ⹠»ite Railroad House! Hair Cutting and Sbampooning done, with neatness and dispateh âą WILLIAMS Sc TILLOTSON,. A r c h i t < | c t s '& 3 3 i i . i l < T e x ' S , ' « SHOP ON âą '.CEDAR ST.,-FRONTING MESSENGER ST. - Designs for Plans, Specifications , and !3ills for Build ing, Smashed on short notice- âą JOBBING PROMPTLY ATTENDED TO. W . It. W ILLIA M S , , â W .' I. TILLOTSON. IN S U R A N C E . M E S S I N G E R &' J E N K I N S , INSURANCE ÂĄAGENTS FOR THE ING reliable and secure companies : Lorillard:-cash capital and surplus $1,310,000.' V.nh.OĂŒn , âV 'i. â 250,000. Manhattan, Atlantic, L IFE, 'ACCIDENT',' FIRE! KEW YORK LIFE INSURANCE CO., Assets $4,000,000. . Profits of business all divided among assured. TRAVELERS INSURANCE CO. .Assess-. ........ $500,000. Insured against 'dedth or disability from accidents of. all kinds.*'.' 1 - . ? * MORRISâ FIRE INSURANCE CO., As sets.,.,$1,000,000. ALBANY CITY FIRE INS. CO., Assets.............$300,00 âą. . All strictly First Class Companies, offering low rates, settling Josses promptly and liberally. Farm buildings insured one, three or lowest rates.- : Oneida Valley Rational Bank, June 15,1865. FOLLOW- 300,000. five years at jthc A*. W. BARKER, Agent. JJO M E j. INSURANCE ROMPAN Y, Ili; & 114 CAPITAL SURPLUS........ ; BROADWAY, NEW, YORK. ...$2,000,000. .................. .................... ........ 1,500,000. MERCHANTSâ INS. CO., of ndrtfordJ surplus and as sets, $500,000. ' ' \â ' ' J. E. FERRY, Agent, Oneida, \i , j Up Stairs. April 1, I860.1 M I S C E L L A N E O U S . N - L EW- YORK STATE PENSION & BOUNTY) AGENCY, t ] _ ' âą â . O u o id a , M a d iso n C o ., N , Ćž . l Government Claim Agent, for the â *100017 and ueral Gov- Rognlar authorized P' P â ernments. --------- - ------------------- fairs, gives him superior advantages over other agents. No charge for services unless-successful.- : Bounty and .pay Certificates cashed on LOneidayFeb. 25,1865. iroaecution of all kinds-of. Pensions, Pay, Bounty and ?rize Money, Claims agaiust the-State\and General Gov- â rnments. His large-personal experience in militaryai- argi - 'Pensions paid,' presentation. I P R O V I N C I A L M A R B L E W O R K S , Phelps St., 0neidW,/N. Y. â ' ° _ MONUMENTS of the latest styles of Archi tecture, Obelisks, Head Stones, Cenotaphs of hall varieties, done in a manner not .-to he ex celled by any Shop west of New York: Mantles of every âdescription. Pier Tables, Table Tops in greit variety ana of the most apprbved'. styles, furnished onj reasonable terms and on short notice. s likenesses carved or inserted in the marble if ÂĄwished. The best workman in the fcetertiy employe \ SaifvfaWtßçn G iven in E v e r y Instance. âą' Crii and examina my Stock berme Pntehaeing else, -Where. * | Capt. J. H. McLOUGHLIN, February 5,1866, . .. - X42m3tf] Proprietor. 3 N E Ă W J E W E L R Y S T O R E 'F tt : e uh a y e jijst - o p e n e d a n e w JEWELRYi STORE en ^ , lVi [-MAIN STREET,IN ONEIDA. ^.i-qVlnfc'doorSouihof Ohapiit:â* Sonj wkerewillbe found ,!i'i'i-^»«a**qrtm eiitof: , . 'JEW ELRY, WATOHHS^OLOCKS, :'V ^ « lÂŁ.V iE R AM D P L A T E D [âW A R E -'Y'ijuid'âail;other goods' usually found in firsfclass establish- pswU,- which w llibe sold at the . | LOW E ST c a s h p r i c e , niWe ais* have forisalo ; . A m e r i c a n &' im p o r t e d w A t d h e s . - j s t & s s t â * \ \ \ t e a r * Oneida, Angust.6th, 1866. nlSyl i , .. â 5|Tâ » T ö i * : ; x o o a c : â 'LK E N N Ă , i M l S v ESTAJ3LISH- ' â S Ă ^«omrofrMain and'! ive' - From Once a Week. â So tlieâColonelâs daughter lias come, and is, they say, stunning.â ' â Trust you to find out a pretty girl, Vivian, laughed a brother soldier. â Now, I âve seen her, too, and I donât agree with you ; sheâs too white and lackadaisical for stunning to express, Stun ning, as Ttakc it, means a jollyâ, larky, donât-care sort of girl, whoâll dance you down in the deux temps, ride you down in the hunting field, and box your carsâ if you are .impertinent,â 4 â Thatâs the sort of girl you cultivate in York shire,â said a handsome, light-haired.man, whose half-closed eyes and down-diooping^ moustache were quite in character with Ills languid drawl and loose, lazy motiomof his limbs. â When we we;rc quartered in York, I was nearly married by one of vour stunning girls, and only escaped by running away with it girl from a hoarding school Fact. I assure you. She and I struck up an ac quaintance at a Christian propagation meeting W hat the deuce are you fellows laughing at They have meetings very .often in Yorkâa lot of parsons talk, andâ a lot of old women and board ing-school girls come to listen. I went for a lark and got sold. The girl was lovely. Sheâ By Jove! whoâs that ?â He was sitting by the open window? and past it a party were riding. â Beatrice Meynell !â said Vivian ;âą â the very girl weâve been talking of.â â By Jove!â repeated the fair man, a crimson tide of color rushing to his face. The others- l ââą stared, â Well, whatâs up, Carter â? Going to have a fit of apoplexy, or Struck with love at first sight?â But Carter did not seem to see the joke. He Meantime the fever had worn itself out; and the sick man was lying prostrate, exhausted,- and with\-a weak,-fluttering pulse, just tottering upoq the brink of that bourne-from which no traveler returns. The night was like, most nights in the hqt Beason, intensely still, the sulky growl of a Pariah' dog now and then only breaking the silence. The Doctor had taksn off his cofit, and opened every available aperture, to let in a ir ; punkas were Moving steadily hut noiselessly, and Carter lay stretched oil âhis back, his face pallid and drawn; his eyes closed, and ho sound of life is suing from his parched lips. Suddenly, shrill and inexpressibly sad, theâ notes of the fucoral march rang out on the still air, rising, falling, note by note, in solemn>.meas- ure.â / . ' _ . For a whiie no change came over Carterâs face, no symptom, that the sound had reached, his e a rs; and after watching for a few seconds the Doctor drew back, fully impressed with the conviction that death was there at last, and he was turning away, when a bright idea struck him. If he could only excite the sinking pulse ahd induce Nature to exert herself, she might yet have a tussle with d e a th; sof going up to the bed, he said cheerily: â Dâye, hear the music, Carter, old hoy ?â Carterâs eyes opened, but with such a weak, perplexed look in them, that the Doctor, think ing delirium Nvas returningtj half regretted his experiment. Still he was in for it, and went boldly on. â I tâs your funeral theyâre parading for, Dick ; sure, if you donât make an effort, theyâll biiry you in spite of me.- The Colonel was here just now, ahd took leave of you. Indeed, now, you must rouse up and turn the tables on tlie old fool; heâs- given us cheek enough since he joined.â Tlie expression\ on the sick manâs face chang ed, a faint smile quivered across â his ,lips, fol lowed by a look of inexpressible relief. â I thought it was all over,â he whispered, al most inaudibly; â but weâll cheat them yet.â â And sure enough he did. â W hat hour did the AdjutajErt go off?â asked the Colonel in a subdued voicV, as Vivian saun tcrod in to early tea. ' â He' began to mend at midnight, sir, and was sitting up walking into cold chicken and sherry when-1 left him, ten minutes since. Itâs not r often a man can say heâs listened to -his own fu neral parade.â sâ Then there 3vas plenty of laughing, and the Colonel was the only'one who did not relish the joke, and-heartily glad was he when-Carter ap- plied for leave, -to England, sending up his re neither answerr d nor laughed. The flush passed away again, leaving him as pale as a ghost, and rising, he stammered: â I âm out' of sorts ; that champagne Croft gave us poisoped me* Iâll turn in to the mess a n d g e t. some brandy. No, no, Topham, stay there. I am all right; only shaky.â And' waving Mr. Topham back, he walked off, leaving the men he had been talking with looking after him gloom-* ily enough, for in an Indian climate death dogs a man like his shadow; and any unusual signs hoisted by Dame Nature are apt to beget st-pro- portlionatc amount of apprehension. 1 He lives too hard,â said Topham. â Poor fel low! No man could last at 'thepace. Heâd much better go in for leave and cut this bcastly.coun- try, or itâll-give hint what itâs given many a good fellowâsix foot of landed property.â â Nonsense! lieâs as strong as you are! Take a couple of pipes off him, and heâll be as stehdy as a judge. I donât know what you fellows are go ing to do.; I âll go and leave a card at tho Chiefs.â 0 > O » The others laughed, and Mr. 1 opliain, putting his arm through Vivianâs, said: < â All right; a fair start and no favor. Come along, old boy. She sits her horse like-a brick, in spite of her die-away face.â There, was a poor gathering that evening at mess. A dinner at the Colonelâs thinned their ranks, and Carter was reported to be ailing, some one-added,â A touch of fever,â which turned out to be the case; for the Doctor, being called away, came hack in alibut half an hour, and with a ^grave face announced the Adjutant docidedly ill, and just in a way that might become dangerous, or even worse, at any moment. Carter was a popular man ; and a gloom settled down upon those who heard the sad news, two or three go ing'to the door of âhis quarters with the Doctor and waiting, there for another report. This, un happily, was worse..âDelirium had come on; the poor fellow was raving, and death was fight-, ing for his-prey.â âą. ' â ÂĄRun over and ask the Colonel to come and take charge of his papers,â whisperedâthe Doctor to one ofithe^men; he wonât last.six hours.â The Colonel came and sealed up some letters lying, about, placed them in a desk, the key of which he p ut in his pocket. . â Is there no hope, Doctor ?â he asked> looking at Carter, who was lying, muttering incessantly, shuddering; â ahd clutching with his, hands! â I never say that, sir,ââ »aid Dr. Lewis; \ but I aM afraid tp hope here.â, - â Poor young feilow!â and the. Colonel laid his habd on the sick manâs burning forehead.â !â A fine, soldier-like man, too ; 'pnly one who knew ÂĄhis work. A more-infernal set of bunglers I never came across. Poor lad,\poor lad!â The Colonel-toOk his departure; h u t in cross ing the compound, bethought him that these same bunglers Bright not know the funeral ser vice ; so, stopping a soldier» he sent him for the sergeant on duty, and ordered the men to be told off for funeraLparade. The man hesitated. . â Well, what is it?â asked the Colonel impa tiently. â Donât they know their work?â â Well, sir, I am afraidââ Bân yourafraid,â grpwledhis commanding a bridle; ashelookpd he waaÂĄconscious that a deep crimson rushes!:« o v er - th e girl!s face, and that her eyes fixed themselves on him with an expression-of ihtense fear. He was-interested and perplexed, he scsScely knew-whether agree ably or not, andHinâ ih h middle of'diis'agitatiofi she asked: *' ' ' Are you fond ofihknting, Major Hervey ?â Very j it i s ' bne of the many hardslups of Soldiering out here, that we have no such glori-. ou8 sport.â _ ' JEaye you ever bruited in Yorkshire ?â â No; I do not knoivYorkshire a t all. Glon, quisition with a strong recommendation^for he hoped by thus getting rid of the principal actor, he might .banish the story from menâs mouths. âą Carter never |howed his' face'out of his quar ters until he got into his palanquin, to be con veyed away â on furlough.â â Youâve left us without a sight of tire Beau ty,â sighed Vivian, who, according to his wont had been going through the various phases' of love fever, and had just then reached its zenith, Sheâs perfect, and quite interested in y o u !â â Tlie devil she is !â* -gasped Carter. â Bearer, go on.* Good bye, old fellows, God bless you all. You wonât catch mo among jungles and joupons again in a hurry. Hurrah for old England may we all meet there soon.â â Good-bye, good luck to y o u ! and three cheers for old England, God bless h e r !â cried several voices. So.with kind words, ringing cheers, ant no small amount of envy, Dick Carter tumec his face away from Meerut, devoutly hoping he Âżlight never hear more of his life there than was pleasant. CHAPTER II. There was a dinner party at the Resident Ma gistrateâs that night, and of course tho Colonel and his daughter were there, the latter Ihe cen tre of'attraction. Vivian, who had, according to his own mind, been making some progress with the pale, quiet beauty, was thrown into despair; -a brother of the Judgeâs wife, a certain Major H'.-rvey, had just returned to India after a long leave, and had taken Meerut on his way to the headquarters of his regiment. Hervey was one of those modem Crichtons one meets with now and then, perfect, or as nearly perfect as human nature can be, in everything he under took. A hero in the service, irresistible, so gossip affinnedj in, the drawing room, a dead shot ia the jungle, well read-and accomplished, gpod looking and rich. W hat w;ould you have more ? W ith all these things one might con clude Herveyâs a happy lot, but there is no life without its-alloy. Hervey had been touched in, the most vulnerable p o int; he had married, but tho marriage had been unfortunate, and after .three yearsâ separation, he had gone home ju s t in time to stand by the unhappy womanâs death bed, and forgive her the wrong she had done him ; one child only she left, and this boy he had brought out.to India to share his sisterâs nursery. When Beatrice Meynell reached the station, Mrs. Masters at once settled that she was the Very wife for her brother, and never rested until she had secured the girlâs friendship, interesting he? as much as possible in her brother, by tell ing, with.fill a sisterâs prejudice, the sad story of his marriage. 1 India society is much more of .a family, sort than English, and the most private affairs soon leak out ; so'it was well known in tho station that Beatrice was' booked for Major Hervey.â Mucli..speculation was afloat; and when they met in-the Judgeâs drawing room, many eyes watched them with no small amount of envy. â Do you like India, Miss Meynell?â asked Hervey,--when, the introduction--haying -been made, h e took. a vacant , chair by h er side. â Not y§f;â was the answer, and the sad eyes rose to meet his, with a world.of .feeling lying hid in 'their brown, depth», feeling totally sepa rate and unconnected with tho-words that were spoken almost mechanically; .eyes that were full of unshed tears, and hid themselves away under their long, thick veil of lashes, as -if afraid lest th$y might betray some secret. They had a strange effect upon Hervey as he looked back into them; and he scarcely heard the common place answer the lips gave to. his common-placa question. â Hot yet, hut I may do so. It is so different, and I led such a quiet, lonely life in Englandâ â Do you ride?â cester is my county, and, the Dukeâs hounds saw my training. But if yon.donât like the Mall, wh^ donât yon ridowartyf and have a gallop into the country?â â So I do, when papa will come.â f And the Colonel coming up at thiB juncture, said:- ^ â I wish youâd clo duty for me, Hervey; rid ing at her pace donât suit my old hones.â â I shall he delighted if Miss Meynell will ac cept my escort.â Beatrice bowed. Vivian, who was looking on, Bwore she blushed, ahd went off to, the other end of the room to offer Captain Bachelor ten to two that Hervey married Beatrice Vivian in a month By which it will be seen that Mr. Vivianâs mat- rimonial hopes being on the decline, he was wil ling to make a compromise with his heajt, and if he could not win a wife, at least win some thing. - The dinner party, on the whole, waa a success. Beatrice had talked more than usual, and Her- vey'had scarcely left her side all the evening, so that there was some excuse for Mrs. Mastersâ triumph. When she and her brother were alone, she asked: â How do you like Boatrice, Charley ?â â I donât know::â â Donât know! â she exclaimed. â Why you flirted with her all night- You surely can tell me if you,like her ? â â She is a very peculiar girl,â he answered, dreamily. â Surely you think h e r pretty ? â â Oh, yes, m ore; beautiful, I think. W hat is her story ? â â Story! â laughed Mrs. Masters, â story, â sir, God bless you, I âve none to t e ll; â what story can a girl of eighteen, never out of a school room, have ? W hat strange fancies you men take!â â Maybe,â replied Hervey, drily; â hut that does not alter the case. Miss Meynell has a story, and a painful one, too.â â How absurd you are, Charley! Now, here have I been moving heaven and earth to bring you and -Beatrice together; ancl directly yon meet you take it into your head that she has done something dreadful.â . â I did not say so, Mary.â ] â W ell, then, suffered something ? â â Not thai> e ither; you see you think with me, for youâve h it upon the very idea that came into my head-when I looked into those marvellous eyes of hersâyouâve given form to my very thoughts. Donât he vexed, d e a r; I am puzzled by her. I like her; and whatâs more I âll either fall madly in love with her, or else Iâll ----- ,-but never mind, now ; good n ight; donât tell your and by the light of this she took out her lettere. The first was from a school friend, and' she put that.aside ; the second was like unto it, and this, too,.might wait ; the third laff with its seal up, and she turned it over, and a sudderi spasm con tracted hĂ©r band;! â Oh, ihy GĂČd ! too late ! â For fi long, long time she lay there, staring with horror-stricken eyes at the well known writing; though the poor, wild eyes saw nothing there, b u t wjere lookingâaway into the post, and on into thVsihifal, terriblĂ© fature. She had fought against this ; she had feared it hourly, until, led on by Weakness and despair, she had striven against conscience. In itB turn conscience had ceased to speak, and she had almost forgotten what it meant, until the superscription on the back of the letter woke it up. At last she broke the seal. There was a long letter inside, and ilhe read it slowly through, pausing.now and then to repeat a passage, as if the meaning* would not enter into her brain clearly enough. At last it was all read, and a strange change h^d come over the girl's face.â There was no fear, no doubt, no uncertainty there,now, only a hard, desperate, set expression, and a feverish sparkle of the full eyes. .â There is not a minute to lose,â she said, as if speaking .to herself, and stopping the hearers, she called ÂĄthe head man to her. He came for ward and listened with immovable features, as in a low, eager voice, she urged something ; long and earnestly she spoke, bdt there eame no sign until she dragged forward a dressing case, ant pulling out a handful of glittering jewels, thrust them forward. The manâs eyes gleamed. â I t is dangerous,*â he said, â but I will obey. Then he spoke to the other man, and the pal anquin proceeded about half a mile. Here they stopped again, and tho man pointed out a hut. â Ă can conceal you there for a day or two, hut as I dare not go back to Meerut, you must take me with you. I will see you safe to Calcutta thĂš Sahib will know how to reward such service.â good man what I âve saidâtwo heads are enough. Iâll know in forty-eight hours which way the stream will run, and if I say I am going, youâll know how I feel. If I stay, I âll trust to you to help me.â ; W ith which arrangement Mrs. Masters was fain to ho content. In two days her brother came to h e r : 1 â Mary, will you put me up for a month ? â â Of course I will. Oh, I am so glad! - I âve hardly dared to move ,,431 case I bothered you or came in your way. And -so its all right, and Beatrice wall have you ? â Harvey smiled. â I âve not asked her y e t; but I âll have her if I can get her.â < â Story and all ? â said Mrs. Masters, mischiev ously. A dark frown, followed by a look of pain, came over Herveyâs face. â Donât say that again, Mary, or hint a t such; a. thing. I was a fool tq say it to y o u ; a fool, to let Buch absurd suspicions enter my head; and than a fool if I suffered any such â officer*' Cirtl-thcm oĂșt-rnow-ani-parfide-thenr, out two rf&rumli'ufĂł ftfĂšsttooLâ* By-iTove hlĂź'lP fĂ€tehHKem] M *i *1 il ' âW aft'l TP«mâ , f,eQh-yesl it is the only thing. Icare for,â and thefe^ckme fi faint flushâą over hĂšvfficĂ«.- â B ut ĂŒdqVnot think'ridin'g a! o ig whatVyou! call thĂ© Iâd be worse childish fancy to come between me and such an angel as she is.â But,' in spite of Major Herveyâs assertionsriio did think of bis first impression, aiid in very dread lest he should be tempted to give way in any greater degree to what he told himself was a cruel and unwarrantable prejudice, he strenu ously avoided any reference to her life in Eng land. \ In spite of the approval of the Colonel and Beatriceâs aunt, the Majorâs wooing made but slow progress. Beatrice was inexplicable. Every now and then she would brighten up, and Her vey for a brief hour or two would think himself in the'ante chamber of Pfiradise itself; then a change would come, and she would shrink back, as if afraid of trusting, herself or lier happiness. Again and again she refused* to \marry him, .and again and*again, growing desperate,Jhe begged her. to tell him h er reason, until, worn out by liis passion and the expostulations of her father and aunt, she a t length consented to become his wife. Anxious to^rouse Beatrice, Hervey bad exerted liimnplf to make the wedding a g ala day for the . station; he.had consulted her in all his arrango-. ments and plans, and' only seemed to 1 ive to give her pleasure and homage; but s tillâ there was the old, sad, frightened look, arid'sdmetinies; even, he fancied i t grew more intense ; so that, bright and joyous as. the wedding-day. was J o others,'many wondering-looks-were cast' upon theâpale, mournful brideâlooks whicli could not escape iterveyââs notice, and xpuse^ a feeling al most; approaching to anger,against.her- h a ;had won, in spite of herself. âą bh â The mail came in as the wedding party were assembled at breakfast.; and, bringing three or four letters to Beatrice, her aunt laughingljtad- vised her to read them before leaving, as she had no right to call herselfâ Miss â when shestarted life as a married womaA* But Beatrice thrust them jnto her ,pockf4.t read them on the-journey, which,hajingto,be accom- pliBhed by palanquin, wifi 'nweSj&rtty a lonely one. * . ' And in about two hours, ttepreparations for the journey being complete^lfeitricq.'was placed in h er 'palanquin. Hervey gotiuto.his, find they Started for a bungalow about seVeffmile« away, ^E y enlng i« b u t .a short period in'Indut.; night trembling as his were. The stranger (df Samar itan-, for he -was one,-surely) opened it, and taking a card; gave it to the cabman, ** 111 go with you,â he said, jumping in after Hervey. â I owe you as m u c h ; â find then was silent.] Hervey, sitting bolt upright, with a white set face, and with every nerve trembling. ' â I will come to-morrow and see how yon are,1 said his companion,ompanion, ass theyhey stoppedtopped at. the door doo c a t s lodging. â I Jhe eard Hervey read, with a vague not ion ng seen the name somewhere before: On of haâ â Cojlonel Richard Carter.â Next day Colonel Carter kept his proruiseJind called] Hervey was better.â â He had reasoned, and almost induced himself to believe that the supposed recognition of the preceding day was* the effect Of one of those marvellous likenesses 'one sometimes sees, combined with a nervous arifl diseased imagination. â I have long .wished to see you, Major Her- vey,â were the first words Colonel Carter said, 1 p - â and for a purpose ; you will hardly thank me ; for I have a story to te!l youâmy own story.â You must not think me mad before you hear w h at I have to say. Providence threw me in your way .yesterday, and neither you nor I can avoid such a power. My-story is th is: Years ago, when I was quartered in York, I managed to make the acquaintance of a,girl who was! at a boarding-school there. We were very mucli in love with each other, and kept up a correspond- ence. At Christmas she went to spend-tlie holi days with some friends.' I followed her down, and met her in the hunting-field. We arranged everything there, and as soon as she got-back to schoolshe eloped with me.â Hervey had start ed forward as he spoke of the hunting-field pnd Yorkshire ; and then, dropping his face upon .his clasped arms, he leaned upon the table, making no further sign while the strange story was be- CIIAPTER III. W hen Herveyâs palanquin stopped at the hunr galow, he looked in vain for the lights of that containing his bride. The plain was covered by jungle, so perhaps they were Jonly. hidden, and for some little time no feeling of apprehension entered his mind,; but having waited nearly half an hour, and still no sign appearing, he grew anxious, and, ordering his men to accom pany him, went hack. Presently anativecame up, his turban off, his clothes torn and stainet with blood ; falling upon his knees, he liowlet out a terrible story how they had been set upon by robbers, who had slain the good bearer while attempting, to defend the lady, ,and how, after much fighting and rivers of blood, he (the wretched speaker) only escaped to tell the tale, Half maddened with horror, Hervey dashet hack. Tlie palanquin lay at the roadside, com pletely sackedâthe very lining ripped up in search of hidden treasure, and with, the marks of bloody fingers everywhere. There was nothing to he done but to hasten hack to-cantonments with the tale, the horror and mystery of which paralyzed tho little place. The- country was ÂĄdiligently searched ; severe natives were taken up on suspicion, but nothing transpired ; no traces of the bodies of either the head hearer or Beatrice could be discovered, anc a shocking whisper got abroad that they must have been eaten by tigers, the jungle being just then full of theso animals. As long as even the vainest hope remained of any clue being discov ered to elucidate the mystery, or bring the per petrators to justice, Major Hervey seemed nery ed for any amount of suffering or w o rk; but when âseveral months''liad gone by, when the country had been thoroughly searched, and the enormous rewards offered for tidings of the criiAe remainedâ unclaimed, hope deserted, him. He had a long interview with Beatrice's father, and then*left India forever, taking hpmc with him his boy. \Whc-a Hervey was gone, t]ic sad story g radu ally ceiised to be spoken of, save now and then as one-of those tragedies that cast a blight upon the face of society, and attach a horrible interest to- some locality or family. Hervey did not stay in England. There was no rest for one such as he, and for nearly ten years he wandered the face of the earthârlion shooting- in Africa, seal spearing among the Es-' quimaiix,'and buffalo hunting on the wild prai ries of America ; and then, w.hen ten years had risen up between him and his lost love, he came hack to civilization a wiser and farmore earnest, if not a better man. 1 It was summer time when he reached London. The season was at its height, and, to a man long used to Toughing 'it with, half-clothed savages, the world of London'had an almost magical effect.. ; â âąHe went, down to, Eton and. saw his b o y ; then came back to town, and took lodgings for a month, not. to look up any of his old friends, but to lookjon at the whirl and pageantry of life.^ Ten yearB makes a wonderful change in the fare of society, and thins the ranks of old friends. Faces we have loybd are'missing; faces we knew so well are changed; age has^ stamped]some, care others, and sin or sorrow has beaten out the fair bright hopes-and beauty from many a one we la s t saw standing eager upon the threshold,: -â.I.. ''* 3 ' - ing told. â We were married at a village church, and went to London; the mistress of the boarding- school traced us, and insisted upon Beatrice go- ing back with her, offering anything if wo, would consent to the separation only for a time, in or- dor that slie might not be blamed by my wifeâs d i father, or bring such scandal and ruin upon her school. I was a.selfish, conceit :d fool j I had spent all tho money I could get n r the trip to London, and began to think I had made a mess of it. The woman had great powers, of persua sion, and her. own interest tyas told me privately the marriage was not legal; I take Beatrice believed her, and suffered her to away, knowing that she -meant io tjell her the same story. â I rejoined my regiment, and t at .work ; she »Id myself that âąI was a lucky tellow to escape frojm ÂĄjiuch a mess so easily, and that Beatrice would forget all about me, or only think me tx> great a black, guard to care for. I wont to India, and was at M ----- when Meynellâs daughter [came out strange as you may think it, the coincidence of name had never struck me, and i-was only oh seeing her ride past themessroona one. morning, that I knew who ! â I was still a she was. coward, and while debating whi rqr<jr what to do, a lucky attack of fev decided my course. I started for England without seeing her again, or being seen by her, and, as she did not knqw me by my real name, there was no danger of her recognizing mo in any way but by sight. I got down to Calcutta, but all the way down my conscience .was at w o rk; what with that andrthe journey, I was down in fever again directly, I arrived. So the stermor had to sail without me, find I lay there tossing and rav- ing for a fortnight ; all the powers of evil fight ing against thĂš wild longing that hadcomĂš over me, to go back to Beatrice, and behave like ah honest mant<for I knqw by this timĂ© that our marriage was legal enough in the sight of the Almighty. The first thing I heard w h en;I got on my legs, was that you were married to her ; and then, driven to my witsâ ends to save her and myself,-1 wrote, claiming her as my âwilt, bidding her-to come down* to mo; and risk any- thing rather than marry you. That letter reacli- ed her .the day of her marriage ; she^read it in the palanquin, and taking the head bearer into her confidence, threw herself on his mercy - to save her. They have lively imaginations, these fellows, and, touched by her bribes, he planned the story1 of tho robbers, the fight, and the car rying away of the bodies, and while tlie country ronifc was being searched, brought her down to Calcntta, disguised as a native woman.â â And J sawfher yesterday in the park,â groan ed Hervey,' without lifting his head. â Yes; I was! standing'by at the timq. I have wished year after year to meet you j many a timer'ĂâvĂ© determined to write to you, but then I did not know whcthl really dead might not e thought that she was Ă happier one] than the reality. Beatrice thought so. I will inot press [wii you^now. Major Hervey, but if you wish it, I cannot tell you how glad i shall be to see you you again, or give you f* I any explanation you wish ; T but. when you think of all this misery weâ, ve of life. â , ÂĄBorne few, faces Hervey recognized as he took his favorite* stand by the. rail.8 along â the Row,?â, rMid it was \$hile- l^ning.oiyerjthejse.one day .^hat, his iate came to hijn..,- A lady, Todq; past, and as shepass ed she turned.. Her 4 full, face Yas to- wardqhiqi-for.a moment'; thenfi mistcamel)f- ; fore Ms eyes,.a cold tremor p^ralyzed his limps. It was Ms lost wife. sHe knew her a t once.]â 'mĂĄ'dĂ© no* Obstacle,â years no diflferenoe, ii. brought upon,, yon, you will try and Remember one thing, tlmtârblackguard as I was when I married, herâas I was when I fled ÂĄfrom her and denied, herâas l vwas when I let her] bear her secret^oneâI was not- had' enough jto let her become your -wife; and I tell you before God, that since the day she came to roe at, Calcutta, I bav,e,been,an,altered man; that, saving the one great sorrow of fhe-misety .she had worked for you (her father .died a long time] ago), we have, been happy.â , ' ' ! ' - Hervey lifted u p h is face., ; * â Will, she soq me,-do you-tMnk.?â , In an instant Colonel. Carterâs hand was on the otherâs shoulder. ~ mystery nĂČne !-' lE s vety teihg reĂšognisĂ©d and nitrire itself-'stood amazed!- â For a time all power of thought seemed lost. He held on to theirail -withâ al blind âą sort of in- â fttinci.and kept liis face turned ih e wayshehad ( gone with a vague thought that' she would re turn. And thus he stood, until a hand touched hisrsho.ulder, -and a man, who had been standing byjiim, said:' â jYpiiare ill^sir, .Let.me.get>o,u,a .He*yqy started^and made: fir faint effort ,fo bring^his mind-back to itg,nahfibpowcr.: *r. , âą â Thank you,â.â he I believe I aip ill. -If yqffwxilrbejw kind,â he be- , i â See you, Hervey ! G od blass -you (for n good ÂĄÂĄflowâ Seeyou? Yes, anyjday,if youâfi see her.â 1 , * JLRT THOU LXYIffja^ Ă fixijijqss o. r ⊠-f V To fill the want« *«**» Where winter melts i%,e.niues 3 spring: And,Jane strada near. wiĂL^ea^dĂšf«- ĂP â ash,fitĂŹd f lĂłĂ( my cheek* are wet1 With tears ftir ĂŽnoĂŻ cannot see,.- O mother, art than living yot, And dost thou-stUl remember ms f âaijfö-M _ . .ÂĄKl tv.m Xfeel tby kisses oâer, me thrill, .Thon unseenj aqgel of my life; I hear,thy hymns around me thrill An Undertone] 16 cAre and Strife; -Thy tender eyes upon me shine, As;from abehig glorified; Till lam thine. and thou art mtae< * - And I forgot that ihou hdst died. I almoet lose each vain reject In visions of* a lifo to-be;- But, mother, art thou firing yet. And dost thou still remember me ? The springtimes bloom, the summer** fade;âą â Thewinter* blow along my way; * Bttt over every light and shade * Thy memory lives by night and day. âą.â ^Âż0; \ It soothes to sleep my wildest pain Jâ Like some sweet eong that cannot die;- ' ' And like the murmur of the main, Grows deeper when the Btormis nigh»,;« I know the brightest Btars that B«t Return to bless tho yearning »1«; ' \jV But, mother, are thou firing ydt, ' âą j And dost thou still remember me? I ÂĄsometimes thinkthy eon! comes bafck âąprom oâer the dark and -silent streinf; * Whore last -we watched thy shining track âą To those green hills of which we dream; Sis Tljy loving arms around me twine, t , . ply checfll bloom younger in thy -t «ritĂ©s m m Till thou art mfte,- and I am thine-'? Without a thought of pain or death âą And-yet at times mine eyes are wet Tith tears for her I cannot see. Oj mother, art thou living yet, m End dost thou still remember- me? m m â jCgg-SĂm M arrying for S how .âIn the followMg -irt^5|^ find di «played a voltlme of honjsst and wholfi-^^j some ÂŁ ood seqse, unusual to such commodltie Put i . pin luire,â good swains and lovers the question often asked of young menagtov they di not Marry, wesometi'mes h e ^ w ^ » l__( I am not able to support a case in three perhaps tMs may be so j âput.j general thing the true reply would bo: not able to support the styl eondyMch I tMuk'* wife ought to! live.â T- view of inarrl ĂŻn f lookĂŻĂg\ iageâa looKmg- ao appearani^l'* the wörld, instead of a union with a iQYy ihan for her c wn sake. There are verf of industrious habits, who cannot mainf* wife, if they are willing to live economic and without! reference to the opinion c ^ world. The irreat evil is. they are not . The great evil is, they are not 'edri^wi to begin life humbly, to retire together iri'an^W; __ f.i.J . . . ,i ii' it ân- scure position and together Work tlieirJ'way,|n the world, hej by industry in his cMlingiâand iF by dispensing wjtli prudence the m'oh<i)^ earns. - But t ' ....................... .. ' attention clothes. of lev must stand out and atlrecii; others hy fine houses and iSĂJ T h e -V a h u e of H i r r Y W o m en .â Some. J ^ (^ are said to have tlieir value, outweighed in^tjfi^^| ornaments. In others â accomplishmentsââ* i f f better than the person. Rut a true womAOjhj sort .of divine institution. She is the sparkleaii sunshine of life. A woman who is happyIt cause she canât help it, her smiles even, thq.cojhljJ! est sprinkle of liiisfortune cannot dampen, make a'terrible mistake when they inarry^fo^^ beauty, for talent or( style. The sweetest are those who possess the^magic of beim tented under shy circumstances. R idfor;! high or low; it niakcs'no difference, -tho b ^ j little fountain ofljoy bubbles up just as mujriqa and purely in tlieir lu arts. Do they live Yp)*lc Cihin, the fire that leaps upon its h u n x b lg ^ ^ ^ ^ âą becomes brighter than the splendid'g^fle^;c^ii^^j| deliers. When is the stream of life so d a r ] | ^ i ^ ^ unpropitious that the sunshine of a happy^jjj^:;ifj falling on tlie turbid'tide would not awa^en'i|U(^^| answering gleam ? flVhv. t.iip.Rftinvoimt«mTM»«il'^f people of the better what good they \do. -1 âąâąâtVLĂĂ?) TRUTn.âTruth is like Godâs baptistn-hip« the hill. First it|is like a little dew dron, sildfiti.3Âź ly descending through a cloud of mist arid f to kiss, the petals of some drooping floWetf. it is a rill, that goes cutting its 'chanrielijyi^|p through the green moss and down thefiihq^fl^W11 hillside, hastening rto the meeting of low. Then it is a] stream, hurrying over:p ! w Ă Ă ^ pices and down capcade rocks, turnlng^the gr«i*â c wheel of manufacture; grinding the graih âą âąworking the spindles and shuttles of man!-* * it is the river, slowly rolling onward thr6ifeK!l( mighty channel, upon which great lazyâ wCrjpilpl rock, and the paddles of the steamboat And thenâthen it frarett o f the iridus is the broad sweepof tK e 'Ă ^ ^ lantic upon which is borne, from.land. Jtilie\ ry offin entire world! thatâs the way trnth acts.â Chapin . A C urious B ook âThe New England PriS^lfi is one of the oldcstj and most curiousbookjjj] \ lished in America. | There is an adve: of a second edition jas early as 1691,. ] ed matter for veryâsmall children, with tho alphabet, and ending with a â Dial between Cjhxist, a Youth and the Devil 1â t eral awful illustrations illuminated the BUch as the burning of John Rogers, who», wUjj^ with â nine small children and one a t the b x eM ^r!#| ved him ' âstake. ' â âe â â ânï«ĂÂŁĂż1â ! followed things wi England i to thĂš S .ever saw martyrdom, he said On of the fnn was a review of the -N**^-- rimer by \ lunatic. All-uding to fi that .. in consideretiqri^i^^l .Ms numerous responsibilities Mr. Rogers to the stake with considerable resignation.^]^ ^ ^ ÂĄ 3 . --------- ⊠--------- - ' . T h e .P oets L aureate of E ngland .â succession of royal ;)oetsâor Poefs LfitocRt^Âź from the time of t l i ; â F ather of EnglishfPiS|(^o| ry,â have been as follows, with the date o f accession to office Geoffrey Chaucerl'TfA^S*Âź* Henry SCcg:,n, 1400 ; John Kfiy*, .485 ; John Skelton': 41 . Heryey nodded^rapd helff out his hand, and taking 'the hlnt, CoIonel Carter 'graspeddt halii inhi«* and left him. â'*â * *. ! A mqnthor two 'afterwards a grotlp of-men werefitanding in the wiridow of â the Rag.â There goes HervCy, as ,iri«iitlble fis ;eref*,â i . tv KHQd ll this sammer/: ; I.*>*%'âą*r» » mna maae u* th o u g h t an« vra* d *v/ :. - fr.« *r, sa d Ă©a te a u p b y t ig e rs %%i I cmm I . and had, ru h] lii:o«aw4i:atai m m , 1373 Andrew Barnard, Edmund Spencer, 1]590; Sahmc Ben Johnson, 161c ; Sir W. De 1638; John Drydei ,- 1670; ThomĂĄa*]f 1689 ; Nahum Tate,|l693 ; Nicholas! Lawrence Eusden, 1719 ; Colley iw o . r PL -â1 Ka»s«i'a**^» William Whitehead, 1758 ; Thomas W hĂ 1785 ; f léßiy J. Pye, |17T)0 ; Robert Soqthqy { M William Wordsworth, 1840'; Affr<xh^Ă©nnV^ 1850. This is very naughly bnsinqs3, figqres, and somebody else begun it.; C __ Cushman will, shortly celeb. BOthfa (versary-of h er birjh ;*Fanny 49th<year; E ate HAteman is 24 yekm;blÂŁw D f^nis.35; MadameâCeleste is 64;â,|Sf^d Wqqd 36; J.ulia Bennett Barrow is!.}4lf;4S ftsfics^Menken 2J!.; AYonia J o n e r J | 8 | ^ tho Iâ *Âź- : . . y» Isti» ofltru s f e ^ Ă© S a i'*' -been.; *\en - r; writt a g ĂŒ a s t;;him aid: the .official i rim ^ iB » k & 'M Ăå«Ăr - f.The-door. â â inii n i i f opeoedifthat.MtwoefftBkaialâ M t Ă - m l i