Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME 10.
THE GEORGIA CITIZEN
~ PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING _B Y
L. F. W. ANDREWS.
Office —/ Home’s Building, Cherry Street,
Tiro listen hr low Third Street.
TlJlVt*:—#2.uu it annum, in advance.
i iw.riivmfiit** !h* r .ru’ar chorjrv will l** Of** Dollar
. 41lDf Y **f w*w km*4rt*i *>*•!* or it**, f r IN* lr>t lnr
y,rtf CemU tor ftftch All ad
nt n*4 in to linn*, will Ke until
f ; a n-i ckrnM accurtiiAjfiy. A liberal ailow<i
fV *rb. *!vefttp bv tb yt-ar.
? .. r-|} *rni/urem nt* luark* wltil'miai) >#a r\
\ U rck-mtA oiWrs, who tuay wUh to moke
i r ,[, *4 iqal an* Bn-i-iur* f *ar<U wit! hr lux rti-4 un
tsexHk ** fU4wiun ralta, % it:
l ,f|v* Un prrauntmi, *5 u
x, r SfYtrW BlMrS* *b* Kill
} r Ter. lines <U> lw D
V of thi* cLu will he admitted. tink**- pa hi
-* n i.jvi.HV, Q<r(*rtlcw T n than twelve rmaUm. Ad
s .ver ten Ituei will be disced pro raM. Ad
n<4 paid lor in adraiKa wilt he charged at the
4H.it turn \otk-rw *f o€tr Urn lint*. will be charge and at the
tn flounce menu r ran dwlate* for *ce to 1* paid to r a
t'** wial ratea. when in-erted.
-ale% f Lund and .V*rw*, by rxecitor* Ai n, i tudra
t p an*! Ouantians are re ju wo by law t> be advertised in a
i iic f*rtv day* the fc*y of sale. Tlwx
te | .Min of leu in the f**M**ti anti ttr*e in the afiT*Ki,
at Hi Court IBM in tke county ftu which the pr.tperty U rftu
halcK of Personal Property mud be advertised in Hke
V.iicr In Ih-iiior* and t ’rrdllorw < f an Estate n.ttt te
puhlidwd forty datw.
\tHict* *ht aoplkoH** will be made to the Ordinary tor
leave r ■ sell Lund .aid Negrons muet be publhshed weekly f*r
two nionthf*.
nintions for Lrtew of A<tminhfri !<, thirty daTs; ff.r
rku AiliaUiitmtiuu, inautUlr, *ii tnumlu; for
I- u hum Giiurdiutiidi’p, weekly, nifty day?.
Rntew for PorrrluM lag of MortzA4£r, monthly, f*. r
n nth*:h*r edOldWi nx i4 papen, for the full s*puce of rhrv*
e.-.u f*: f *rc-ai” ilia* titldft from cieeutora or admlnldra
t r* where a bond ha* letn given by the deceased, the full
•ewet of three iu*ndha.
fHbtfllnnij.
For the Ga. Citizen.
LILA.
BY HENRY A. < ARK.
In lovely Florida—away
In a romantic glade,
Rotuued Lila, wild and fear K-.-s lav.
In dreamy, forest elude.
And onward moved this cllin fair
Among the orange trees ;
Hanging in curls her golden hair,
Fanned by the ocean breeze.
She stepped ns lightly as the fawn—
The birds sang overhead
But now the merry laugh was gone,
And musingly she said :
‘A\ hv wand’ring is my mind in dreams
Os lover far-away 7
lie's on the sea, and yet me seems
Thai he is here to-dav.”
She sat down in a fairy nook ;
The trees were thick around.
Not far off ran a laughing brook.
And violets strewed the ground.
Here in this dell the Indian brave
Roved with his duuskv dove,
And talked of some great chieftain’s grave.
*>r hunting grounds above.
And here the proud magnolias wave—-
M any a noble grove :
Here i> the strange dark pit, or cave:
For these the Indians strove.
No wonder this delightful land
U as loved by Seminole
Twas home—land of forefathers, ami
Ilear to the red man's soul,
He. in the everglade*, content
Enjoyed what God had giv'n.
His life was idly, sweetly spent,
, In this tem->tial heav’n.
****** •
Her soul is in the dream-land now.
“My Hover’s far at sea.
He's -tanding at his vessel’s prow,
Is dreaming now of me.
‘•His gallant bark flies o'er the waves.
Like bird-wing thro’ the air:
Hear him command his sailor braves :
W uU 1 were with him there.
“<>h glorious ocean safely bring
My lover back to me.
And when our bridal bells shall ring,
Then we'll sing of the sea.
“Ah I happy thought!—delusive hope!
My Hover’s on the sea;
He's many raging storms to et>[>e.
Ere be returns to me.”
Lila dreamed the dream of love;
And it did surely st>em.
The cooing of a distant dove
M as mingled with her dream.
An orange fell close by her side,
■S eining so ripe and sw-et,
I was bitter th<>’ and Lila cried,
No tears -hall Hover meet.
*••••• *
Tws summer ere the silv’ry moon
Sh. neon a happy pair ;
And happier still will they be soon.
For Hover now is there.
He’d seen the queenly maids of M|>uin —
Fair ones ’neath all the skies.
But now he had returned again
To see his “valley prize.”
“You are the queen of day and nieht.”
He said, “my nightingale.
You are a water spirit sprite,
The lily of the vale.”
****** *
Wild Lila is a happy bride,
Her Hover roves no more :
They’re waiting for Time's coining tide
To waft them to the shore
****** *
Adieu! wild Florida, adieu!
Thou art the fairy gem
That clusters with the stars iu blue,
In Union’s diadem.
Fragvletta, G<t.
THE GOVERNESS.
BY T. A. KIMBALL.
“Wanted, a Governess. Apply at
No. *2*2, Melville Street, Baltimore.”
u 1 shall apply for the situation ? ”
mused Ell* Sl George, as she thought
fully laid the newspaper, in which was
the above advertisement, upon the table;
“my little stock of money will soon be
exliausted: I must come to some decision
quickly, and 1 may be fortunate enough
to find a good home.” And she fell into
a painful reverie, and thr ught of the hap
py time when she had no care for the fu
ture, when a kind father hail protected
her from every ill, ft kind mother had
gazed with pride and affection on her,
and her brother had lovingly twined his
linger* in her golden curls.
The tears started to her eyes, as she
thought, “Where are they now?”
irom her little window she could see
the white marble that headed her father's
grave. And she had never heard from
her brother, or seen him, since the time,
live years before, when, on the eve of his
departure for Australia, he had cut off
one of the locks she prized so much, and
j
pictured to her the future happiness
that awaited them when lie should have
become rl*h.
Mrs. Ai!eti had just settled herself in
the library of her con f -rtable home, for
a quiet morning, having given orders
that jhe should he denied to all callers,
with the exception (f the applicants for
the situation of governess. The servant
opened the door, and ushered in a tall,
graceful gutl, apparently about eighteen.
•She looked very beautiful as she timidly
entered, her auburn hair hanging in rich
profusion, her large blue eyes beaming
with intelligence, and the purity of her
complexion enhanced by contrast with
the black habit she wore. • Mr*. Allen
arose in aotne surprise, and awaited the
object of her visit.
‘ Madam, I understand you are in want
of a governess V
* Ah, yes; pray be seated. You saw
my advertisement in the piper, I pre
sume V
‘ Yes, madam.’
‘Can you teach the usual branches of
an English education, with the addition
of music, Italian and French l’
* 1 think I can, madam. 1 am prcfieient
in music, and can teach singing, and the
rudiments of French and Italian.’
‘Ah ! \\ ouid you oblige me by sing
ing, and accompanying yourself upon the
piano forte?’ said Airs. Allen. 4 We
will proceed to the drawing room, if you
please,’ ani gracefully rising she led the
way.
Ella seated herself at the beautiful in
strument, and commenced singing, with
great sweetness, “The light Os oilier
days.”
M rs. Allen said, 4 You sjng sweetly ;
that song is a favorite with me. I think
if my terms suit you 1 shall like you very
weii. Aly daughters are of the respec
tive ages of nine, twelve and fifteen, and
the salary 1 thought of giving is two
hundred dollars a year.’
Ella accepted the situation.
‘lf you like,’ resumed Airs. Allen,
4 you can come this evening. You will
take your meals m the nursery, with the
children, with the exception of dinner.
Mr. Allen insists ufon the children com
ing down to dinner; of course you will
accompany them.’
Elia assented, aad taking leave of Airs
Allen, promised to come at 7 o’clock in
the evening.
She proceeded to the little cottage,
where she had boarded since her bereav
n.ent, and busied herself the remainder
of the day in makirgih * necessary ar
rangements for her change of residence.
Having completed these, and finding -he
still had an hour at her disposal, she
stroll'd towards the little grave-yard
that contained the remains of her parents,
and she almost wished her struggle in
life was over, and that she was quietly
sleeping beside them.
The time for he** departure at last ar
rived ; and, steppii g into the carriage
she bad ordered, was soon conveyed to
the sta ely looking house that was, for
the present, to be her home.
Airs. Allen and two of her daughters
had g"iic out f'>r the evening, and Aliss
Lucy, the youngest, was in Ixd. ALs<
St. George was informed that she was to
share Aliss Lucy’s room, and was glad to
retire at once. Lucy was sleeping, and
Ella thought, as she gazed upon her fair
s .veet countenance, she would not have
much trouble with her.- Hastily un
, dressing, she joined her little coinpan
ion; and, fatigued with the exertions of
the day, she was soon in a sound slum
ber.
The next morning, Mrs. Allen enter
ed-the school room, accompanied by her
two daughters, Ellen and Genevra, whom
she introduced to Mi*s St George. ‘You
have already made the nc<|iiautance of
Lucy, I perceive,’ she said ; “1 shall leave
them entirely to your own judgment, as
my time is quite taken up, and 1 hope
you will get on well together.’
Twelve months glided away happily.
Mr. Allen expressed himsclf highly grat
i itied at the improvement of his daugh
j ters; and their mamma was glad to have
the responsibility off her hands. They
kept very little company, and with the
exception of a Mr. Stanley, a con
’ stant visitor, Ivla had not seen any strati
- ‘•
ILrlert Stanley was a handsome, in
telUctua! looking man, about .*SO years
of age. arid posM‘*sed considerable pro
perty in the South. lie had never had
any chance of conversing much with El
la, as she left the room immediately af
ter dinner, ea-di day, with the two youi g
ladies ; l.ut he was particularly attentive
to her during dinner, and evidently ad
mired her.
‘ Mamma, do you not think Ella very
handsome f said Lucy oue day to Mrs.
1 Allen.
‘ I don’t know, ch id, what makes you
aso ?’
‘ Well, Mr. Stanley *aid to pa that ho
thought her a lovely girl —that she had
the grace of a fairy, and the prettiest
blue eyes he had ever seen. Pa said he
thought to too, so do 1; don't you think
so, too, mamma V
4 l don’t know what Miss St. George
is doing, to allow you to plague me now,’
exclaim and Mrs. Alien ; ‘go up stairs di
rectly.’
‘ We’ve finLhod our studies lor this
morning, mamma.’
4 Tell Miss St. George to walk out
with you, then.’
Ella lit Je dreamed of the storm that
was brewing overhead, as she dressed to
go out w ith her y< urg charges. Lucy
looked very sad, and felt afraid she had
got her gentle governess into some trou
ble, though she could not sec why her
inanuna should be so ugly.
It was a lovely morning, and they
walked towards the old mill, gathering
the wil j flowers on their way ; Genevra
playfully insisted upon dressing Ella’s
hair with flowers, ‘just to see how
they would look,’ i-he said, * as nobody
would I*3 coming that way to interrupt
them.’
They were thus pleasantly occupied,
Genevra, in making her governess look
like the 4 Queen < f May,” and Ellen and
Luc,y bringing her flowers, when they
were startled by a deep-toned voice, say
ing, 4 Good morning, ladies.’ El!a start
ed to her feet, arid the color ru:-lied to her
I temples, as she perceived Mr. Stanley
smiling at her confusion. She tried to
j disentangle her hair from the llowers, but
Geifevra had fixed them in so well, that
neither she nor her governess could get
limn out.
The gentleman proffered liis assistance,
though he said it was a pity to take them
out, they were so becoming to her. They
now began to think of returning to the
house, and Air. Stanley said he was go
ing to dine with them, and w ith Aliss St.
George’s permission, would accompany
them h< iu-*. Geneva sm led archly at
her g overness.
Mr. Stanley and Ella entered into a
pleasant conversation, and his animated
countenance showed how much he was
pleased with his fair companion. They
reached the house just as ihe dinner bell
sounded, and Aliss St. George and her
pupils hastily ran up stairs to arrange
their dresses.
After dinner, the ladies retired, as
usual, and Mr. Stanley stioUed into the
library, and through the door eommuni
eating with the conservatory. He had
not been there long, when he was arous
ed by the sound of voices in the library,
and he heard Airs. Allen say :
4 1 insist upon your leaving my house
this evening, Aliss St. George. 1 thought
when 1 engaged you that yon were a re
spectable person, and not a detestable
flirt.’
ElJa indignantly repelled the aeeusa
tion.
‘ I tell you,’ exclaimed Mrs. Allen,
4 that your conduct towards Mr. Stan
ley, was trul) shameful, and lie might
well say, 4 that you were a disgraceful
flirt.’ ’
4 Madam, I cannot believe that Air.
Stanley would ay so, as he has not bad
any opportunity of judging ; and as to
i 4 flirting with him,’ 1 cannot tell what you
mean.’
4 Never mind that. lie said so, and
remember, you are to leave my house
to-night!’
Ella answered haughtily, 4 let it be so,
then,’ and was about to leave the library
when Air. Stanley entered, from the con
servatory, and begged her to stay a mo
ment.
4 1 am sorry to have to contradict you,’
he said, adressing Airs. Allen, 4 but 1
think Aliss Ella anything but a 4 flirt,’
and I think she is, indeed, not suitable
for her present situation ; she might fill a
better one.’
Airs. Allen flounced out of the room,
‘ Aliss Ella,’sail! Air. Stanley, as he
seated himself by her side, 4 will you
permit me to ask you a few questions, in
the spirit of friendship, without a’tribu
ting it to impertinence V #
4 Certainly.’
4 Where do you think of going, upon
leaving Airs. Allen’s V
4 1 have not decided, iny dismissal has
been so perfectly unexpected.’
4 Aly mother would be delighted to
make your acquaintance. Miss Ella, and
you would be very comfortable w ith her
iLr a few w eeks. Do not let any feel
ing of delicacy induce you to refuse
this temporary home. lam at present
staying at a hotel, and would feel gratifi
ed if you would only allow me to
vey you to Evergreen Cottage this even
ing.’
Ella felt uncertain what to do. She
did not like to refuse Mr. Stanley’s offer,
he seemed so earnest and respectful in his
desire to serve her, and she finally con
sented to remain with his mother for the
present.
Air. Stanley said he would come for
her in an hour. Accordingly, at* four
o’clock (much to Mrs Allen’s annoyance) ‘
a carriage drove up to the door, and Air
Stanley, alighting, inquired if Aliss St.
George was ready. And, having taken
leave of her young charges, and promis
ing to write to them, Air. Stanley help
ed her into the carriage, .and they soon
found themselves in the cheerful little
parlor of Evergreen Cottage, his moth
er’s pretty residence.
He introduced Ella, and explained the
( Cireuinstances that had transpired at Airs
Alien’s. The old lady welcomed her i
with great cordiality, and assurtd her she
would feel happy in her company as long
as she would stay with with her. She
then rang the bell for tea, and soon after,
Herbert, looking at his watch, said he
had au engagement, and said he must
leave them ; but he wonld call in to see
them in a few days.
When Ella came down, the next morn
ing, shs found Mrs. Stanley sitting at
the breakfast table waiting for her.
4 Good morning my dear: how did you
sleep V
‘Soundly, madam. 1 hope I have not
kept you waiting for breakfast.’
‘Not at all, my dear.’
Just then the servant entered with a
beautiful boquet, of the rarest flowers.
There was a slip of paper attached :
4 For Miss Ella, with Herbert Stanley’s
compliments.’
‘Oh, how very beautiful!’ exclaimed
Eila ; how 1 love flowers !’
Mrs. smiled, and remarked
that ‘ Herbert was always fond of flow
ers.’
A week had passed away, and Her
bert Stanley had not been to see his moth
er’s cottage, but each morning he had
sent a boquet for Ella. It was a fine
evening, and the ladies were seated at
the window, pleasingly conversing, when
a barouche drove up, and S'anley bow
ed and smiled, as he alighted. *
‘ W ell, ladies, how do you get on ?
Ah, Miss E la, you are ruining your
complexion by staying in the house.—
Will you not ride with me, this loveiy
eveniug? come, it will do you good ;’
and coming nearer to her he said: * I
have something particular to say to you,
and 1 may not have another opportu-
MACON, GA., FRIDAY, JUNE ‘24, 185 9.
nity, as I leave for the South in a fort
night.’
Ella’s cheeks were rosy enough as she
left the room to prepare for the ride.—
She was soon ready ; Stanley assisted
her into the barouche, and waving their
hands to Mrs. Stanley, were soon out
of s gli!. For some time they rode on
in silence; Ella admiring the scenery,
and Herbert apparently 10-t in thought.
At lergth, arousing himself, he said :
4 Ali-s Eila, I told you 1 should have
to go South in a fortnight; I shall pro
bably remain two or three years ; but 1
cannot g", without saying how much 1
esteem —how fondly I love you. Dear
Ella, will you be my wife? the light of
my Southern home? If you refuse, life
will indeed be a dreary, blank ; and he
looked anxiously for an answer.
Ella trembled, and said : 4 Air. Stan
ley, you forget the difference of our sit
uations in life. Your mother ’
‘ Will be delighted,’ he said. 4 Dear
Eila, say at once that you will accom
pany me to the South, as my darling
wife.’
She was confused, but Stanley’ con
strued her silence favorably to his wbh
e-, and tenderly drawing her shawl more
closely around her, he turned the conver
sation upon indifferent subjects, and they
were once more at Airs. Stanley s’s.—
They entered the parlor together. Her
bert’s countenance was radiant with hap
piness. Ella was going to run up stairs,
but he, gently detaining her, said :
4 Dear mother, allow me to introduce
you to my promised bride!’
The old Judy was very much affected,
and said :
4 God bless you, my dear children !
May you ever be happy.’
And now, need we say how beautiful !
Ella looked, in her bridal robe of pale
blue satin and white lacs, and the violet |
and lillies in her hair ? <>r how- proud
the handsome bridegroom looked of his
lovely bride] a 1 and how the long looked
for brother returned to witness their
h ippiness.
The Women are Coming-
The National Era, alluding to the efforts
of women in this country to get iid of some
of the civil and social disabilities they have
inherited from the barbarous ages, said, the
other day, “It is not for (he generation among
whom Elizabeth Drowning has sung, and
Charlotte Dronte spoken, and Harriet llos
inor chiseled, and liosa Bonheur painted,
arid Mary Lyon taught, and Florence Night
ingale lived, to despair of woman’s achieve
ment of her highest destiny.” It is quite
evident that the sphere of woman in this
country is rapidly enlarging. (We say this
without any sly squint to ward* hoops.) The
people have become so accustomed to see
women behind the counter and engaged in
various other employments that were only a
few years ago monopolized by men, that it
is regarded as the established order of things.
But they are coming into competition with
men iu the higher pursuits of life, in art, sci
ence, and literature. Some of the best news
papers and magazine writing is done by wo
men, and the number of educated women
who live by their literary labors is constant
ly increasing. Women are getting into the
pulpits, too. Nearly all the leading denomi
nations have a woman preaching, and the
Universalists have two or three. One of
them, Mrs. Lydia A. Jenkins, has just been
invited to deliver a commencement address
before the Lombard University, at Gales
burg, 111. The Quakers have always encour
aged their women in preaching, and, there
are few men in this country who excel the
venerable Quaker preacher, Lucretia Mott,
in power to instruct and move an audience.
“Grace Greenwood” has taken to literary
lecturing, and Madame Alaiie, the English
woman who is speaking in this country in
behalf of Italian liberty, charms all who hear
her by the power and grace of he r eloquence.
Miss Remond, a colored girl from Salem, is
drawing large audiences in England.
Some men may consider these very alarm
ing indications of social disorder. We confess
we have no serious apprehensions about it.
Let the women do all they can do and are
inclined to do. If they can paint, or write,
or speak well, let them do it. Why not?
Why should any gift of natme, that might
be made useful in the instruction and eleva
tion of the race, be folded up in a napkin
and laid away in silence and rust, because it
belongs to a woman ? Iu every sphere of
human activity which woman has the ca
pacity to fill, she carries a refining and ele
vating influence with her. Her presence re
deems man from his coarseness and calls out
his higher sentiments. The same results
that are produced by her presence at the
fireside attend her in the shop, in the school,
in the public assembly, and wherever she is
recognized as rightfully present and co-ope
rating with man. If there is any place
where a man feels that his wife or sister
ought not to he with him, it may be pretty
certainly set down that it is no place for a
decent man. We have not the least fear
that the women will fly out of their sphere
and introduce anarchy into the social sys
tem. Let them do all they can, and the
highest work for which they are qualified,
and the world will be the better for it. —
Springfield Republican.
Re-Unton in Heaven.—“ lam fully
persuaded,” says Baxter, “that I shall
love my friends in heaven, and there
fore know them; and this principally
binds me to them on earth. If I thought
I sfcould never know them more, nor
love them after death. 1 should love them
comparatively little now, as 1 do all
other transitory things.
Jacob Jones was elected sheriff. Jacob
was very pompous, very self complacent,
very proud of the honor. His neighbors
called to see him. “Approach,” said Jacob;
“approach very near. Though lam sheriff
elect, I feel that I am still one of-you.”
HOW I BECAME JEALOUS.
BY MARY KYLK DALLAS.
When we first moved to the house in
which we now reside,l noticed one very dis
agreeable peculiarity in relation to the ad
joining block of Houses. They had no back
door yards, and consequently the windows
closely overlooked our gardens, which were
not very large themselves, though they were
pretty. When we first took possession of
our new residence, the windows directly op
posite ours were closed, and the apartments
untenanted. I had scarcely got to rights
and lairly settled down, htwvever before I
perceived great renovations and improve
rnentswere in progress iu these empty rooms.
Tainting and papering, white-washing and
gilding, scrubbing and window-washing,
were the order of the day for a fortnight,
i And then, after a short respite, white shades
were visible at the windows, and I knew the
new tenants had moved in. I did hope they
were not inquisitive, disagreeeablepeople.
For some time I saw no one but a quiet,
common place young man, with a very shi
ny head of hair and an immediate collar and
cravaf, who appeared new and then at the
window, and vanish’iustantaneou-ly. And
I began to Hatter myself that we should not
I be annoyed at all
One morning—it was a bright, still day,
and the atmosphere was very oppressive; I
remember it well ; for I had arisen with
such an accountable depression of spirits as I
had never before experienced, and felt sure
something distressing would happen before
night.
Well, this morning, as I was running
down stairs very early—before any one else
was np in the house I happened to glance
out of the window at the stairhead, and at
that part of the hous • I have mentioned sat
a young lady. She was very pretty. Her
complexion was extraordinarily clear,and her j
hair was magnificent. But I declare I never
saw such a cold, saucy glance ns that which
she fixed directly on the window of our I
room. I did hope Psalter wasn’t looking
out.
After bieakfast, Tsalter sat down by the
door w hich opened into the garden, to read
the paper. And all the time he sat there
that impudent thing stared right straight at
him without moving an inch. I thought it
strange that Psalmr didn't observe her. All
day the shades-were down, but (if you'll be
lieve me) no sooner hail the sun set, than
there she sat again in the same position, try
ing, as I saw ph.imy, to make Psalter take
notice of her. And the style in which she
was dressed —it was ridiculous.
Every day the same thing was repeated ;
but I purposely avoided saying anything to
Psalter, as he had not seen her himself, lest
he should look towards her out of curiosi
ty ; and then, of course, she would think he
was overwhelmed with admiration.
Sister-in-law was quite a near neighbor
of ours, and ran in every day; and one af
ternoon I casually mentioned the circum
stance to her as a good joke. Sister-in-law
looked very serious.
•You say, Psalter has never noticed her ?’
she said.
‘Never once,’ I replied.
‘Well, I must say, Emma,’ continued she,
that is in itself very suspicious indeed !’
‘Why, Jane !’ I exclaimed, ‘what can you
mean ? Suspicious ?
‘Retlect one moment, Emma. Would it
not have been only natural for Psalter to
remark, ‘That's a pietty girl,’ or, ‘We have
anew neighbor, or something of the sort?
Instead of which he has preserved total si
lence on the subject,’ said sister-in-lawq em
phasising her reinaiks with her forefinger.
•He has never seen her,’ I replied, indig
nantly T told you so— *
‘Now, Emma, nothing could make me
believe that,’ said Jane ; ‘and I warn you as
a sister to watch that window well, cryou’ll
repent it.
1 knew it was foolish, but I declare I
could not help thinking of what she had
said for hours afterwards, and I caught my
self looking at the window fifty times a day.
‘Where are you going?’ I inquired of
Psalter, as he left the house one moruing
just after breakfast was on the table.
He gave ine no definite answer, but mere
ly replying that he would return in five min
utes, closed the door and departed.
As I awaited his return, I happened to
turn my eyes toward that window. There
sat the woman, but her back towards me,
and on the window-seat beside her lay a
hat so like Psalter’s. The longer I looked
the more convinced I was that I was not
nrstaken ; and yet the idea was so ridicu
lous, that I felt I should never have husban
ded it for one moment had it not been for
Jane’s suggestions. I “drove the thought
away and went into the house; but when
Psalter returned, I couldn’t help looking at
the window—and, oh! dear me! the hat
had disappeared.
I cried and scolded myself and cried
all day long. In the afternoon I walked
round the block for the purpose of in
specting the building which contained that
window. It was large and full of stores
and offices. On the “round floor was a
confectionary. I stepped in and bought
some oranges, and then inquired of the pro
prietor, who was a German, “who occupied
the first floor?”
“Oh ! Mr. Sehmit have all de floor,” was
the reply. “I kuow not vat you say iu dis
country—makes many ting3 which is not
true, and der mouth and der head.”
What could he mean ? A bright thought
struck me; they were actors, that must be
it. “Many tings which is not true—in der
mouth, iu der head.” I had a clue at last:
theatrical people's wives and husbands, and
suing for divorces aud intriguing generally,
all over the world. Can any one think of
the reason? Ts the secret hidden in the
foot-lights, or rolled up in the curtain? Or
is there something fatal to fidelity in the air
of the green room? Certain it is, that those
who personate fictitious heroes constant to
wives and lady-loves thorough difficulty,
and danger, and death, anj heroines who
would sacrifice everything save virtue, draw
few practical lessons from their nightly rep
resentation of those virtuous characters. -
Tnis woman, then, 1 dreaded, was an actress,
who had come to the determination of run
ning away with Psalter.
Oh, that hat! why had I seen it? Three
days passed away, and again Psalter went
out before breakfast. I watched the win
dow —I couldn't help it. Oh, dear, dear! in
fifteen minutes there was the hat standing
on the sill again! There was a handker
chief in the hat. The wind was strong, and
every now and then the edge fluttered out,
farther and farther, until at last it fell quite
out of the hat and floated down upon the
grass-plot. I ran and picked it up —it was
Psalter’s handkerchief,marked with his name.
I thought I should faint, at first; and then
my spirits rose—l would put on my things
and walk straight into the room,where I was
now sure he was, and had been on the previ
ous morning. I could easily make a pretext
of some sort; no one should know my mo
tive except Psalter, I tied my vail over
my face and mulll-M myself in my duster,
keeping my tears for the time to come. The
stairs were public,so I easily ascended to the
second floor without being remarked. The
back door stood, ajar. Oh I how 1 trembled
as I peeped in. There sat Psalter, and there
sat the lady, but Psalter was being sham
pooed, and the lady, divinely beautiful as
ever, was made of wax ! I had been jeal
ous of a block—of a liair-dresser’s sign ! I
was tar more foolish than poor sister-in-law
the night we followed Tom to Brooklyn.
Just as I was retreating, one of the estab
lishment emerged rather hastily from the
door I was just leaving, and to excuse my
presence, I inquired the price of a pair of
fa's- moustaches, n u h to his amazement,
and beat a liasty retreat.
To this day I have never mentioned one
word of the occurrence to a living soul—not
even to Psalter.
Extraordinary Dreniii.
The London Times of March “full re
cords the following :
“OnAlonday, an investigation took
place in the board room of the Strand
Union, Bow Street, before Mr. Bedford
on the body of a man named William
Death, aged about 40, w hose body was
discovered in a complete state ofnndity,
under the following circumstances: —
William Atkinson, beadle at the Piazza
Convent Garden, stated that he Jiad for
some time known the deceased, but had
lately considered him of weak intellect.
On Friday night he (witness) dreamt
that the deceased had committed suicide
by hanging himseif in a house in White
Hart Street. On the following day,
(Saturday) he became so uneasy that he
determined to visit the deceased, Ibr the
dream had made a deep impression upon
him. lie first, however, went to Mr.
Robin’s room and told the porter there,
who consented to accompany him. On
entering the house, No. o White Halt
Street, they called to deceased, but re
ceiving no answer, proceeded to the front
door on the first floor, and, on entering,
weie horrified to see deceased lying on
his face in a corner of the room in a per
fect state of nudity, and quite dead.—
The Coroner, in summing up, remaked
that the case was one of the most extra
ordinary ever brought under his notice,
but had seen made quite clear. The jury
returned a verdict in accordance with the
medical testimony.
of ■>>;< I>.
A few months since Airs. E. A. Hol
brook, of Watertown, N. A’., had a broth
er and sister-in-law residing in Wash-*
ington, D. C. No intelligence had been
received intimating any sickness in the
family of her brother. One night Airs.
Holbrook, in a dream or vision, saw her
sister dying and dead. In the morning
communicated the fact to hes husband,
Rev. Dr. Holbrook, and declared she
knew the scene was a real presentation ; ,
said she saw the corpse, and insisted that
a telegraphic dispatch would come on
that very day in confirmation of her
statement. A dispatch did come, and
the vision was demonstrated as a reali
ty.— Clarion.
Healing.
A few’ months since Air. Allen Turner, j
of Norfolk, N. Y., was found prostrate
with a most malignant disease. He had
lain nearly helpless for four days, and
was abandoned by physicians as incura
ble. At lasthecalled some of his friends
to his bedside, and exclaimed : “ God
Almighty or some other being has put
it in my head to send for four spirit me
diums and I shall be cured.” Immediate
word was sent out, and in a few hours
S. C. Kingsley and Isaac Tilden of Stock
holm, and two other mediums were at
the side of Air. Turner. Though he had
not eaten a mouthful nor walked a step
for three days, in less than twelve hours
he began to eat again and walked out,
to the wonder and astonishment of all
who believed his condition hopeless.—
We received these facts from parties fa
miliar with all the details. — Clarion.
“My Mother." —The influence upon her
child of chrialian mother’s pure, unselfish
love, is never lost. Worldly pursuits may
cover it from sight; love, warm and passion
ate seem to burn it from the heait, but with
subtle gentleness, it still exerts its hallowed
power. Many a dying bed has borne such
testimony as tne following:
‘‘lf I could only see my mother!”
Again and again was the yearning cry re
peated —
“If I could only see my mother!”
The vessel rocked, and the waters, chased
by a fresh wind, played musically against
the side of the ship. The sailor, a second
mate, quite youthful, lay in his narrow bed,
his eye glazing, his limbs stiffening, his
breath failing. It was not pleasant to die
thus in this shaking, plunging ship ; but he
seemed not to mind his bodily discomfort—
his eye looked far away—and ever and anon
broke forth that grieving cry—
“lf I could only see my mother!”
An old sailor sat by, the Bible in his hand,
from which he had been reading. He bent
above the young man, and asked him why
he was so anxious to see the mother he had
willfully left.
“0! that’s the reason,” he cried in anguish.
“I nearly broke her heart and I can’t die in
peace. She was a good mother to me—O !
so good a mother, she bore everything from
her wild boy, and once she said—
“My son, when you come to die you will
remember all this.’’
“0 ! if I could only see my mother 1”
•He never saw his mother. He died with
that yearning upon his lips, as many a man
has died who slighted the mother who bore
him. The waves railed over him, and his
bones whitened at the bottom of the sea,
and that dread cry has gone before God,there
to be registered forever.
A Quaker intending to drink a glass of
water, took up a small tumbler of gin. lie
did not discover his mistake until he got be
hind the door and swallowed the dose,
when he lifted both hands and exclaimed,
‘•Verily, I have taken inwardly the balm of
the world's people ! what will Abigail say
when she smells my breath ?”
From the Transcript.
€ L A R A T E H 1* h E TON ,
OR
Father! Where is Mary?
BY JOHN’ ALCON.
“ The Wicked shall be turned into Hell.'.
Terrible sentence! and yet we find it
recorded in the word < f God. Awful
doom! and yet it was spoken by the
“man after God’s own heait.” Harsh
words! and yet they weri uttered by a
“minister’’ of God at the funeral of Ma
ry Templeton. Oh! how they grate
upon the ears, how the soul shivers,
the heart bleeds, and the eyes flow with
tears, when words, such as these, are
launched forth from the sacred desk.
In the town of , near the wes
tern border of Alabama, in the year IS
-47, there resided a gentleman whom w e
shall call the Rev. Joseph P. Templeton,
and his family. He was the rector of the
little brick Church, and was highly es
teemed by all under his pastoral charge.
The house in w hich he lived was hand
somely furnished, but not filled w ith those
glittering gewgaws that mark the proud
and haughty. His was not so. Every
thing was plain and neat. His library,
’tie true, contained works of the choicest
iiteraturc, elaborately bound and finish
ed but beyond this, all was plain.
His family consisted of a wife and
three children, two daughters and a son.
All were young and handsome. Clara
and Alary were twins, born of the same
mother and on ihe same evening,but, oh,
how widely did they differ respecting
their spiritual existence. Clara was en
deavoring to reach heaven where joy is
unspeakable, and knows no bounds.—
Her heart was filled with love for God
and all his creatures. How shall we
speak yf Alary ? She was “light heart
ed, careless, and inconstant,” but then
twas innocence.
Not long Lefore the opening of our
story a protracted meeting had been held
at the ‘ New Church,” (so named on ac
count of its recent c< nstructh n.) Ed. E.
Moore, pastor, which continued some ten
nights, and the laborer received for his
hire the glad intelligence of the conver
sion of nearly three score souls, and a
mong the list we notice the name of
William Templeton, Clara’s brother.—
Strange to say,Mary,the life, the beloved
of the family, had resisted. In vain had
her sister expostulated with her, for she
was a being next her God. Who can
describe the depth of that love, born with
Alary ! “Love is as strong as death.”
Time passed on, and Alary Templeton
lay prostrate on a bid of fever; death,
“the universal leveler,” who “lays the
shepherd’s crook beside the sceptre,” had
claimed her as his own, and her spirit
took i?s flight to that “bourne from
whence no traveller returns.”
“Farewell, world ! Farewell, friends
and parents, dear ! I bid 3 >u a long, long
farewell. Igo to heaven.” These were
the last words Alary Templeton ever
breathed upon earth.
Then came the funeral. There upon,
the table, lay the rosebud of the Temple
ton family. The life of Clara lay before
her eyes. Gh. how wildly did that heart
beat, when the dread words of “The
Wicked shall he turned into IIsll,” fell
upon lur ears. She listened attentively
to the words of the minister,(Air. Moore.)
weighed them well, thought of God and
Mary, and the sermon was finished.—
Mary was in hell! Endless torment!
She had “rejected the salvation of Christ,
while it was yet day 5 ” said th- pa-tor.
Then arose from the weak, delicate
frame of Clara Templeton, a scream that
deafened all ears; it was an unearthly
scream. Rushing frantically to hex fath
er, she threw her arms about his neck,
looked him steadfastly in the face, while
her eyes glared with the brilliancy of a
maniac, and shrieked into his,ear 1 “Fath
er ! w here is Alary ?”
The stout heart of Joseph Templeton
melted. He had listened to the words
of his beloved brother, and said, “Thy
will be done.” Ere this no tear had
dimmed his eye. He looked at the
corpse and then at his .friends, and mur
mured, “It is the Lord, let him do what
seemeth him good.” But now the cri
sis had come. Those words had pierced
his heart, and with tears trickling down
his cheeks, he could only articulate the
word “Lost!”
Mary Templeton was conveyed to her
last resting place, by her parents, follow
ed by over half the town. All sought
after her company while she was living,
and now’ that she was dead, with sorrow
ful hearts they proceeded to the cemete
ry, there to pay the last tribune of res
pect.
A marble slab was placed at her head,
and on it we read :
SACRED TO TIIE MEMORY OF
MARY TEMPLETON.
DAUGHTER OF THE KEY. JOSEPH P. AND
MARY TEMPLETON.
Aged 17 years and 11 months.
‘•'‘She died in her Sins .”
Peace be unto her.
And now r the willow, with its myriad
of branches, blooms above her head, and
the beautiful rose, with its twining vines,
encircles the mourning tree, climbing
towards Heaven.
* * * * * *
Friend,if thou wouldst see a sight that
would turn thy eyes to tears, thy tongue
cleave unto the roof of thy mouth, come
w ith me. Follow me to thechurchvard ;
what dost thou see? Nothing? Look
again, dost thou not see that angel’s form,
with her eyes turned to heaven ! That’s
Clara Templeton, and there beside her,
with his face buried in his hands, and
kneeling, is her brother William. See!
there is a cloud now spreading its sable
wings o’er that angel’s broyv, the form
shakes violently from the convulsion, the
head thrown madly back, and the eyes
glaring wildly heavenward. Listen !
how the brain staggers under such words,
and the hand that holds thepen struggles
to free itself from planting such senten
ces on the snow white paper. “Thou
NUMBER 13.
demon, who reigns supreme in heaven,”
falls upon the ear.‘why hast takenthou my
sister from me ] AYhy rob me of all my
heart held dear? But see, she comes ;
ye u thought to rob me, did ye, but she’s
mine now, ha ! ha ! ha ! ’ These words
escaped the lips of Clara Templeton, the
maniac. A cs, dear friend, she is now a
maniac. Two years have elapsed since
the death of Alary, and what changes
have they wrought on Clara. Her
cheeks are thin and haggard,and her eyes
sunk deep into their sockets, and worse,
oh ! cruel fate, she now curses her God.
Alas! she too is doomed.
At length the broken hearted children
returned home, their forms bowed with
grief,but their misery is not yet complete.
’Tis night, and they retire to theirres
peetive beds to re&t. But they do not
slumber soundly ; no, for dreams, ter
rific dreams, created monsters of the fe
ver-heated brain, flit before their eyes,
and they awake, with restlessness, unre
freshed by broken sleep, and brain on
fire.
The heavens open, and Clara Temple
ton sees an angel of light descend into
her room, and with a voice of sweetest
music hears it ask :
‘•Clara Templeton, why weepest
thou?”
“I weep because of my sister. Oh !
speak, heavenly messenger, and tell me
w here is she! AY here is Alary ?”
The Angel spoke not, but taking the
Bible that lay upon the mantle, opened
to the XYth chapter of Corinthians, and
pointed to the f-‘>d verse, and she read
these words:
“For this corruptible must put on in
corruption, and this mortal must put on
immortality.”
She then awoke, —for she had been
dreaming,—the sweet revelation seemed
to inspire her with new life, her mind
became calm, and once more she slept, a
sweet and peaceful sleep.
Her dream she communicated to her
parents in the morning, but she was told
’twas an idle phantasy. She persisted
that it was an heavenly truth, and the
result was that Clara and William Tem
pleton were expelled from the home of
their parents. William had confirmed
what Clara said.
-A * * * * *
A earsroll on, and we find Clara and AYil
liam Templeton seated near the fire with
the Bible open before them. They are liv
ing in aneatiittledwelling in the ad joining
village. No maniac dwells in that house,
for Clara Templeton’s mind has been res
tored, health and beauty have returned.
A low” rap is heard at the door, and
with a heart almost bursting, she bounds
to answer the summons. The door is
opened, and there before her stands her
father. Again she threw her arms a
bout his neck, and with a voice full of
the tenderest emotion, and eyes spark
ling love, asked :
‘■'■Father! where is Mari/ ?
Again the tears trickled down his
aged cheeks as he murmured :
‘■'■Thank God, my eyes have been open
ed. Mary is in Heaven.”
Reader, our story is finished.
Expenses of Congress.
The figures are rather startling. Three
thousand dollars a year with mileage and
the franking privilege does not seem to be
an inordinate price for the highest (do we
not mean “noblest” by “highest?’’) sort of
labor —legislative labor. Yet when we come
to multiply the pay, mileage and franking
privilege of a single naemDer by 300 (the
number of members iu both Houses) and find
that the sum total foots up five millions
eighty-three thousand five hundred and
twenty-three dollars, the revelation is rather
startling. Still, if we look a little closely
into the matter, do we not find that the
chill which strikes us in contemplating this
tremendous sum total, arises from the fact
that we are accustomed to handle only
small sums of money, and have not sufli-
I ciemly estimated the value of the services
of a gentleman ? It is true that this gentle
man spends but a small part of his time iu
Washington, and while there does not, as a
general thing, do a great deal of mamial
labor. Nor should it be forgotten that
though the member spends but a biief
portion of liis time iu the public service,
the remainder is almost entirely consumed
in patriotic efforts to continue in that ser
vice, so that in point of fact, while in Wash
ington only ninety days, the rest of the year
is spent in the very laudable attempt to do
‘the public good’ by keeping his much cov
eted place. And when we see three hun
dred great inen struggling there from year to
| year, what are five millions of dollars—what
a pitiful trifle to reward struggles so inces
sant of gentlemen -so eminent!
But there is a way of looking at this sub
ject, which is not only startling but astound
ing. Divide $3,083,523 by 300, we have, as
•‘ the annual cost of a member of Congress,
the snug little sum of $10,554 05,” which is
rather comfortable. Yes, rather comforta
ble. But is it not our business to make our
great men comfortable ? Surely it is. But
the question is asked how does all thisjmoney
go ? Deduct the $3,000 which the Congress
man pockets from $19,554 05, there remains
nearly $14,000. What becomes of it ? Let
us approach the question calmly. The sum
is considerable, but we need not be nervous.
It appears that this $14,000 per member in
“ contingencies,” a term not very intelligible
until translated into such words a3 “ corres
pondence. post tffices, postmasters, pages,
clerks, managers, writing paper, horses,
p dice, newspapers, carryalls, hacks, snufi’,
documents, mirrors, oil, velvet, carpet, fold
ing, locking glasses, black kid gioves and
miscellaneous.” Altogether, it will be seen,
that with the aid of the items above given,
added to “miscellaneous,” the $14,000 which
each Congressman does not exactly pocket
may easily be frittered away. And why
not ? Will any patriotic and sensible citizen
dare, in this free and enlightened country, to
afiirm that 14,000 is too much to expend in
gratify ing the taste of a Cot gressman { Yt e
trust not. — Baltimore American.