Newspaper Page Text
2
from them, and found Maggie and me,
and together we went to the cottage.
I can’t tell you all that followed; but
our grateful • hearts joined m thanksgiv
ing to Heaven for his deliverance.
Jamie could explain everything now;
he had seen Milward and Butler coming
from the' vestry of the church on the
ji jo-ht of the lire," and the smell of smoke
and their excited manner, told him plainly
what their errand had been.
It was this terrible knowledge that had
made him so nervous when he returned
home. He doubted whether to divulge
the secret or not. He came to the con
clusion, Monday night, that it was his
duty to make it public; but Milward
and Butler, fearing this, had anticipated
him, and, by perjuring themselves, had
secured Jamie’s arrest. Then the lad
saw how useless it would be to make a
charge against his accusers, and so he
resolved to let Justice work out her own
victory.
Six months later, Jamie and Maggie
were married, and Lawyer Carnan was
present at the wedding, and he gave to
Jamie a receipted bill for his services,
and to Maggie the finest dress you ever
beheld
Jamie stiil works in the factory, but
to this day, no one has seen Milward and
Butler in our neighborhood. It is in
California they’re living, I’m told.
Dreadful Consequences of News
paper Reading. —What can there be in
the perusal of the daily journals and pe
riodical literature in general, to misguide
men into tricks ? It seems to have that
effect. I never frequented a reading
room without being annoyed by the
little nervous habits of some of its
visitors. One man will make a tre
mendous noise in his throat—not once or
twice, which would matter very little,
but at regular intervals, like a passing
bell, and with much the same effect upon
the nerves. It is impossible to help lis
tening for its recurrence, and the difficul
ty offixing the attention upon the page
before one’s eyes, is very great under
such circumstances. Another man will
cross one leg over the other, and swing it,
with an effect quite dazzling to his neigh
bor; but the worst offender of all is the
reader who has a trick of resting his toe
on the ground, and causing his leg to vi
brate in a distressing manner, of which I
despair of conveying any idea, unless you
Lavo aufferod from tho infliction Tho
more interested he grows in what he is
reading, the faster goes the limb, and
you cannot defend yourself, as in the
case of the swinging nuisance, by holding
a broad sheet before your eyes, and so
shutting him out of sight, for after a lit
tle while the vibration becomes perccpti
b'e over the whole room, until you might
imagine voursell on board a steamer.
Nay, it is far worse than the shaking
caused by flic paddlewheel, or screw, for
that is so honestly violent that the system
soon becomes accustomed to it; whereas,
the tremulous motion excited by the vi
brating leg is of an irritating description
over young and fresh. A constant read
er of our local Athenaeum, (who, indeed,
almost lives there,) has all these tricks
and one more. On Wednesdays and
Saturdays, be collects the weeklies as they
are brought in, and sits upon them while
he studies the newspapers. Then he
draws them out, one by one, and reads
them in a very leisurely manner. The
committee have several times been ap
pealed to to point out to him what a
selfish habit this is, but they insist in
condoning his peculiarities because he is
a learned man, and took a high degree at
his university. But this is wrong. Tricks
should surely count before honors.
[Dicken's All the Year Bound.
A Contretemps. —A very well dressed
individual, rejoicing in the appellation of
James Townsend, appeared in the dock
of the Recorder’s Court. His hair was
uncombed, and hung in elf locks down his
face; the face itself was haggard, and
still retained impressions of a night of
dissipation.
“You are accused of being drunk.”
“I am so informed, sir,” responded the
culprit.
“I shall have to line you,” said the
J udge.
“I presume so,” was the reply.
“Where did you get drunk ?”
“At the same place your Honor did.”
“What, sir !”
“Even so. But I attributed your
Honor’s being in that condition to the
oad quality of the whiskey. 1 wish your
Honor would make the same exeuse for
me.”
It is needless to say the explanation
was satisfactory, and the victim of bad
whiskey was suffered to go on his way
rejoicing.
Dr. Herapath, whose name is well
known as an. analytical chemist, has just
died at Bristol, at the comparatively early
age of forty-six.
Life’s Volume.
BY RBV. DK. DEEMS.
Open before my wondering eyes,
Great God, Life’s mystic Volume lies;
I wait to see Thy hand define
The fadeless record of each line.
*
No leaf once closed may I retrace,
To add a word, or word erase;
Nor may I guess the joy or gloom
Inscribed on pages yet to come.
•
The past iu light I clearly count,
Judge their intent, tell their amount;
But, hid in clouds, I cannot see
The history yet awaiting me.
But, knowing this, that, great or small,
My Father’s hand will write it all,
I trust the future, and submit
To what is past—what’s writ is writ.
But bear this prayer, O, Power Divine!
That lift’s each leaf and writ’st each line,
That, where my hands have left a stain
Christ s blood may make all pure again.
Where the last sentence hath its end
In mercy, Maker, Father, Friend,
Write for the sake of Thy dear Son;
“Servant of Jesus Christ, well done!”
For the Banner of the South.
Ike Carrier Dove.
Giuseppe, Count Do la Farge.
Theodorette. .Countess.
Attala; her Daughter.
Steward.
Rinaldo, Lord DeLaigle.
Ariile, Lady DeLaigle.
Arman and, their Son.
Estella their Daughter.
Porter.
Robbers.
Giuseppe and Rinaldo live on ad
joining estates, and are intimate friends.
Rinaldo is about to move away, to an
estate on the Pyrenees, where he is
going during his son’s recess from study.
The true reason is, that Arrfiand is in
love with Attala ; and his parents do not
wish his mind to be diverted from the
pursuit of knowledge while so young.
Attala and Estelle are sixteen—Ar
mand is twenty.
When Attala and Estelle parted, the
former gave the latter her Carrier Dove.
There was a band of Robbers in the
country, who gave much trouble.
Rinaldo hunts on the mountains, and
is taken prisoner by the Robbers.
Amile, Estelle, and Armand go to
him, after diepatching the Carrier Dove
to the Castle of Giuseppe, with a mess
age.
They all meet at the Castle.
A sum of money is given to the Rob
bers, who depart.
Armand and Attala receive the bless
ing of their parents, and the Dove
dies.
ACT r.
(Giuseppe, in a front room of the Cas
tle, looking out,.)
Giuseppe—The sun is waning; and
he has not come. What could have dis
turbed him so much, as to make him
omit so positive an engagement ? Ah !
he comes —I see him on his ambling
pony, pacing along the hill-side.
What on earth can induce Rinaldo to
go away at this crisis, when we so much
need his invaluable services here ?
We, who have always been of one
mind and one heart, are now to be
thrown apart, from some whim, perhaps,
of his wife’s.
He comes not alone—l see another
horseman with him—all grievances arc
now forgotten, in the pleasure of wel
coming my frieud.
(Enter Rinaldo )
Giuseppe—How are you, my friend ;
and why did you delay so long ?
Rinaldo—My son has just arrived
from Ostend; and rode over with me.
He remained with the ladies in the gar
den.
Giuseppe—When do you leave us
for the Pyrenees 1
Rinaldo —In two days more we will
go. Armand has prepared himself with
shot-bag and pouch, for hunting game
on the mountains.
Giuseppe—Let me sec how you will
leave this region with your wife and
child, when the country is infested with
banditti.
Rinaldo —We will be twelve strong
and well-armed men ; and will defy
them. When there, 1 have force enough
to repel them, if they attempt any inva
sion of my premises.
Giuseppe—You are determined then
to go ? We wiil have to resigu your aid
in our councils, while you go to seek
pleasure ou the mountains.
Rinaldo—Not exactly pleasure ; hut
that which gives pleasure.
Giuseppe —That is just the same
thing after all. Y r ou are not going of
your own free will, Riualdof
Rinaldo—Why do you think so, my
friend ?
Giuseppe —Y T ou have been distrait
and cold ou that subject ; and I, who
know you so well, cannot hut feel anx
ious.
Rinaldo—You are mistaken. I am
not cold, but reserved. I have reasons
for leaving here, which I cannot fully
disclose.
Giuseppe— That does not satisfy 7 my
heart, which beats responsive to the
voice of friendship. When you return
to üB,uB, you will be distrait as ever, be
cause the same cause will exist then
that exists now.
(Enter Theodorette.')
Theodorette—Did I hear aright ? my
ears are quick in detecting treason.
Rinaldo—Too true, Countess. We
leave this in two days. You must not
blame me, hut my wife, who longs to
breathe the mountain air.
Theodorette—How, my Lord ; and
away from her friends ?
Rinaldo—\"ou must “ hie to the
mountains,” while we are there ; and
while you and Attala cheer the ladies,
Giuseppe, Armand and I, will pursue
the hunt. We will feast you on moun
tain food ; and re-in vigor ate all for the
next season here.
Theodorette—l could not resist such
a temptation ; and if the Count and At
tala go, I would have my little world
with me.
{Euler Attala with a Dove, nettled on
her shoulder)
Attala—Ob, Lord DeLaigle, what will
I do, when you take Estelle away from
us ?
Rmaldo—You must pet your little
Dove, until she comes hack ; and be
sure and l ring it with you, when you
come to see us.
Attala—l will, most certainly ; and
hope we will not be forgotten when you
get up among the clouds and rainbows.
Rinaldo—l will promise you that, to
our eyes, the rainbow’s tint, shall never
exceed in beauty, the “ couleur d'rose ”
tints of our friendship.
(Enter Giuseppe and Armand, talking.)
Giuseppe—You will be sure, Armand,
to return for the true prize, when the
right time conies ?
Armand—ls I do not, Count, mark
me down for a culprit, unworthy of a
thought, and dead to every feeling of
friendship.
Giuseppe—l will insure you my sin
cere good wishes, by giving you this
precious ring, which has been on my T
finger since the first dawn of manhood.
(Theodorette and Rinaldo approach
them. Attala shrinks back, apparently
fondling her Dove ; but really looking
over it at Armand, who now approach
es her. They go to a windoiv near, and
converse opart. lie takes the Dove Jrom
her hand.)
Theodorette—Will you tell us, too,
Giuseppe, what this compact is about ?
No si crets among such friends as we
are !
Giuseppe—We will tell you all about
it at another time. At present, it is a
little keepsake between Armand and
myself.
(The Curtain Falls.)
ACT 11.
(Theodorette and Attala, conversing.)
Attala —“ Querida Madras I wish
to give a parting gift to Estelle—what
shall it be?
Theodorette —Your love is the best
offering you can bestow, Attala. What
gift can compare with that ?
Attala—She has that already, “ mia
Madrc ; ” but 1 feel that 1 must give
her something else, by which she can re
member me.
Theodorette—Then you fear that she
will forget you ?
Attala—No, no, “ querida Madre ”
—I do not fear that. On the contrary,
I feel, most surely, that Estelle will
never cease to love me ; but I wish to
bestow a gift ou her, before she goes
away.
Theodorette—What will you give
her ?
Attala—l will bestow upon Estelle,
that which I love the most, my Carrier
Dove.
Theodorette—Oh, Attala, why give so
simple a gift, and yet one you so much
value as the Dove ?
Attala—For that very reason, “ que
rida Madrc because it is simple. Es
telle wiil love it the more.
Theodorette —Very well, “ querida
nina ;” let it he, as you wish.
Attala—Today we part, “ miquerida
Palomaf you must love Estelle; and
do her bidding well, “ mi dulce.”
Theodorette —Here they come now.
Let us part with our friends with forti
tude. [Exeunt omnes.
(The day before they leave. Enter
Amile, Estelle, and Armand.)
Theodorette —Welcome, friends ! Ar
mand, you have just come in time to hid
us farewell.
Armand —Oh, Countess ! I hope to be
often here before the time comes fur my
return to books. Why, a ride here
would be nothing more than a good day’s
hunting.
Theodorette—Y r ou will be welcome at
all times. Now, Amile, let us leave the
young people together. We will go and
walk upon the lawn ; and talk of the
past and the future. Let us for this
once forget the present, that tries to
bring us tears aud sorrow.
(Theodorette and Amile go out and
walk upon the lawn in front of the
Castle. Enter Estelle, Attala, and
Armand.
Estelle—Oh Attala ! we had such a
charming walk over here—the trees —the
sky—the flowers—the stream ; and all
the twittering birds, seemed conspiring
together, to make us regret leaving them.
Attala—l am glad, Estelle, that your
walk over here was so lonely. By its
beauty, you and Armarlllwlß remember
us, when you are faraway 7 . I like to be
remembered in gentle and beautiful
things
Armand—Then you will always be
remembered, Lady Attala—never, never
do I forget (aside) but, I have pro
mised.
{He goes to the window and looks out
upon the lawn)
Estelle—“ Querida Hermano what
are you doing, looking so attentively out
of the window ?
Armand—l was looking at the two
walkers on the lawn ; and thinking there
was nothing more beautiful on Earth,
than a friendship between two lovely
women.
{Attala, Estelle, and Armand looking
through the window at Theodorette
and Amile walking.)
Attala—No one could doubt their love,
could they, Estelle ?
Estelle—No, indeed—separation can
never blunt their affection.
Armand—Shall I tell y r ou, Lady At
tala, why I love to behold such a friend
ship as that ?
Attala—Yes, if vou wish to tell it,
{She fondles her Dove which is perched
upon her wrist.)
Armand—Well; it is because their
tongues are free to express their thoughts.
They are ngtobliged to say “yes,” when
they mean “no,” or, to say “no,” when
they mean “yes.” Their love is, to me,
like a beautiful river, gliding smoothly
on between hanks of flowers.
Attala—Oh, Armand ! you are al
ways talking in conundrums. Just look
at rny Dove, how contented she is.
Armand—And well may it be. Let
us send it sailing out cf the window.
{He takes the Dove from her and makes
a motion, as if he would throw it out
of the window)
Estelle—Come, let us send it with a
token to querida Madre and the Count
ess.
Attala—Well, let us try 7 it. You
hold the Dove, Armand ; and I will tie
this blue ribbon on its wing.
Armand—And if it performs its mis
sion well, Lady Attala, shall we receive
it as a good token ?
Attala —Oh! yes; and a token oflove to
our mothers. Hie away, 11 mi dulce ” —
hear the message of our love.
{She tosses it from her hand.)
Estelle —Oh, sec how she soars aloft ;
and how beautifully the ribbon floats in
the air, as she descends !
Armand—Look at it. Oh! Lady At
tala, the token is good. The Dove lights
between them.
Attala—They look up towards us,
and recognize the messeuger. You see
your Madre nods ; and knows the rib
bon. It is hers.
Armand—So much the better. It
makes the token more complete.
Attala—Conundrums again, Armand!
{Enter Giuseppe , and Rinaldo in con
versation.)
Giuseppe—l wish, Rinaldo, when you
go to the mountains, you would keep an
eye for a hand of men who arc doing
much mischief in the country.
Rinaldo—l will certainly feel hound
to do so. Have you had anew case for
trial to-day ?
Giuseppe—Yes, and they are con
tinally recurring.
Rinaldo—l ain not surprised at any
thing attempted by them—they are cer
tainly fiends in human shape.
Giuseppe—lt seems so, indeed. It is
impossible to gain any influence with
them. They are like the Frenchman’s
flea, that even when you put your thumb
upon it, “ is not there.”
Rinaldo —Even so ; and that is an
element that belongs alike to the Devil,
and those taught by him. Are you like
v to condemn any one in the present ease
Giuseppe —I fear not. We have
adopted vigilant means to detect them ;
hut they, as yet, allude us.
Rinaldo—l hope that we may suc
ceed iu punishing them. It would be a
blessing to our country.
Giuseppe—Could we ouce find out the
plans they adopt for concealment, wc
might hope to ferret them out of their
dens.
Rinaldo —I have heard that they li avc
even gone so far as to assume the vest
ments of the Church, to cover villainous
deeds. Base scoundrels !
Giuseppe —Is your estate upon the
mountains secure from their encroach
ments ?
Rinaldo—Yes, as much, or even
more so, than the one here. The ten
antry list is larger; and they are, g ( > ne .
rally speaking, faithful herdsmen, and
industrious vine growers.
Giuseppe—Do examiue well every
clue you can get. Even among y o u r
faithful herdsmen and vine growers
there may be some villains.
Rinaldo—There may be.
(They approach the window.)
Giuseppe —Look at tho girls. They
are beckouing us from below. What a
pity it is to separate them, Rinaldo.
Such a friendship as theirs, is Wurth
preserving.
Rinaldo —Forever ! but what is for
ever in this world ? It will live in per
petual bloom —extending beyond time.
Giuseppe—Do they not hear their ex
pected separation nobly ? They are
playing and laughing together. They
toss the Dove in the air. from one to the
other; and the gentle thing seems to
partake of their enthusiasm.
Rinaldo—Let us go down. The
Ladies are seated in the bower. Behold
them awaiting us ! *
Giuseppe—Well, come, let us go; and
then, we will have refreshment for the
last time before you leave us. May God
bless you, Rinaldo, and yours.
{Refreshments are brought in, after
which a Chariot drives up to the
door.)
Rinaldo—Come, mi querida chequita,
Amile, the Chariot waits.
(Enter Amile and Theodorette.)
Amile—Yes, I come, Rinaldo You
get Estelle, while Theodorette and I
will go by the bed of violets, and secure
a few, to place in my little book of mem
ory so sweet will be the remembrance
of my friends to me.
Theodorette—Here is a pretty cluster
of them, Amile, surrounded by “ forget
me nuts ;” press them just as they are;
and let us make up our minds, my
friend, never to get old.
Giuseppe—Who is it that says they
are never going to get old ?
Theodorette— {laughing.) Amile and
Giuseppe—Just hear that, Rinaldo.
Time advances, and play's his pranks on
all human kind, and, behold ! here are
two of the gentle sex, who declare they
never will get old!
Rinaldo—Aud, they never will, mark
my word for it. Their hearts will re
main young, when many 7 younger are
dead. True friendship is a charmer, my
friend.
Amile—Oh, but we have a charm
which surpasses what you term friend
ship. There is a Divine Love greater
tiian that in our hearts, that gives the
inspiring thrill of anew life.
Rinaldo—Oh ! what do you mean,
“ chiquila ” Amile ?
Emile—it is the love wc have for the
Mother of our Lord ! Is that not more
pure—more elevating, than any earthly
friendship ! It gives a thousand charms
to pure love.
Rina!do—True—true—true —mi chi
quit.a Amile is right. She looks ahead;
and secures the blessings for us in anti
cipation.
Giuseppe—Here comes, Attala and
Estelle, half smiles and half tears. Why
have you caged your Dove, Attala ?
Attala—You will see directly, “ quc
rido Padre .”
(They stand on the edge of the terrace)
Rinaldo—Come Amile ; into the
Chariot, now, Estelle. There you arc
all fixed.
Attala/—One moment, Lord DeLaigle,
if you please. (She rests her foot on
the step of the Chariot , and places the
cage iviih the Dove in Estelles lap.)
Here, my sweet Estelle, you must take
this precious Dove as your own. Let it
whisper to your heart every day, of me,
“ mi dulceP
Estelle—Oh, Attala ! Is it possible,
you give me what is so dear to you ? It
will be ever dear to my. heart, my friend.
Attala—For that reason, I bestow it
upon you,’ my Estelle, that you may
know how much I love you. Lord IL-
Laigle waits—farewell Lady Amile —
fare well “m id idee. ' ’ ( (Jit rta in Fall-■ < -J
[to ije continued, j
Napoleon was a very awkward dancer.
On one occasion, he danced with a
Countess, who could not conceal her
blushes at his ridiculous postures. ' )n
leading to her seat, he remarked —"Cw
fact is, madam, that my forte lies not so
much in dancing, myself, as in making
others dance.”
It is feared that Gottschalk, the end
i nent pianist, was one of the victims ot tne
: recent earthquake in South America.