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smiled as she looked after him, and then she
hounded with glee into the parlor, and seemed
to listen for his foot-step.
While he tarries, we will look over the
last few years of their life. Three years be
fore, they had stood side by side over their
dying father, and now they were ophans.—
Their mother lived not long, and they were
left to battle the world alone. They were
very poor, or rather they were worse than
poor 3 for they had been accustomed to all
the luxuries of life, and now, just when fitted
to enjoy them, were forced to live upon little
or nothing. The house in which they dwelt
was theirs, and they had some few remnants
of their former elegance ; but the greater part
had gone to pay their father’s debts, and the
young man, who could not bear to think of
his sister’s wanting any thing, was forced to
toil day and night for their support. Lucy
had once proposed teaching music, but he
colored and looked so much hurt, that she
promised never to think of it again 3 and
seemed content that she should bear no share
in their support. Still his small earnings
did go very far; and William often wonder
ed that she who had been brought up so ex
travagantly, should make so good an econo
mist! Well, the fire blazed brightly, and the
coffee smoked hot and tempting as the young
man entered, wrapped in a large cloak.
“ Why Lucy ?” he asked, u where did this
come from TANARUS”
“ It’s a birth-day present for you,” she an
swered, looking up for a kiss.
Indeed ?” he exclaimed, enveloping her
in its folds. “Why my little sister, where
does all your money come from ?”
“ That’s no business of yours, sir!”
“But indeed dear Lucy, it is. I'm afraid
you work for it.”
“ And what if I do ?”
The young man looked wounded.
“Well now, dear William, I will tell you,
if you promise not to laugh—l’ve turned
Authoress.”
“Heavens!” exclaimed the brother with
long faced terror. “ You a blue stocking!”
he held her off with both hands, as if to keep
her at a distance, and then overcome by
stronger feelings he folded her in his arms
and murmured, “God bless you my dear lit
tle sister!”
has blessed me in my brother,” she re
plied, smiling at him.
“What a scene!” exclaimed a gentleman
ly young man, entering at this moment.—
Lucy laugheJ and bowed some lively saluta
tion, while William throwing off his cloak,
made a spring at the youth’s hand. “ You
are a most convenient friend, James: you al
ways come in just when people want you!”
“ Not just when they expect me, though,
laughed James.”
They sat down to tea and talked long after
they should have been fast asleep, but the
visiter was not inclined to go, and to tell the
truth, they had all forgot the hour of the
night, until the young gentleman started up,
exclaiming
“Now, Miss Lucy! I am not going home
until you sing me that song.”
“ What song ?”
“The one you were singing yesterday
morning, just when 1 was passing under the
window.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“ Thesa brothers, these brothers, that tease os so,
1 wish they’d off to their business go.”
“Now!” exclaimed Lucy, “that’s Wil
liam’s song, and I did not mean any one else
to hear it.*
“ Williamhas never heard it yet,” remark
ed her brother, “and these birth-day presents’?
Eh Lucy ? Here’s one,” he added, to James,
throwing on the large cloak !”
“ Indeed !” exclaimed the young gentleman
with a look of surprise. “Ah Miss Lucy I
wish you would give my sisters a few lessons
—the three put together never make me a
present worth having.”
“O, you don’t value them enough!” re
turned Lucy, striking up her lilile song.
Merrily, merrily pass the hours,
When brothers sluy a; homo.
They roam about a> and pluck our dowers,
They will not let us al< ne.
Those brothers. the*e rothers that tease us so,
I wish they’d off to their business go
Wearily, wearily goes tin time,
When brothers < r. away ;
I wish this roving brot.r r of L.ine,
Would learn at home .0 stay.
These brothers, those brothers that tease umo,
Why will they off io their cotton go.
Cheerily, cheerily sounds the chime,
Teat calls brother homo ;
Why does this tir and b o her of mine,
Take vo long uilc to coruc?
These brothers, these brothers that tease us so,
Why will they off to their visits go 1
CHAPTER 11.
A few days after, Lucy tat locked in her
3© © ina b& ia Oa aim &a s ¥ ©Agninris.
room. A respectable looking colored woman
was with her and the two were busily plying
their needles.
“I’m sorry to hurry you, ma v ,m.” said the
woman, “ but the gentleman wants his waist
coat to-night. I can’t remember his name.”
“Never mind,” returned Lucy, “but I
wish I could get some other kind of work.
I had rather make dresses or something of
that kind.”
“Why ma’am people knows that I can’t
do any thing but tailoring , and they might
guess who was helping me.”
“Lucy sighed “Oh well, never mind what
I do, so that I can help poor William; hut I
would not have him to know it for all the
world.”
“You never found your thimble ma'am,”
asked the servant.
“No. I can’t imagine what became of it.
It had mv name on it too.”
At this moment a servant knocked, to say
that “Mr. Rolan had called.”
“What am I to do ?” said Lucy.
“Go down ma’am I'll work until you come
hack.”
But two or three hours passed, and the
visiter still remained. Presently came a
knocking again 3 it was the colored woman’s
son, to say that “ the gentleman had sent to
the shop for his waistcoat.”
“Go tell the servant I’ll send it home in
an hour.” As she gave the message, the
door below opened, and the visiter took his
leave, almost knocking the boy over, as he
ran down to execute his commission. Lucy
returned pale with excitement.
“Mercy! Clarissa the waistcoat I made
the other day was Mr. Rolan’s, and he had
it on, and I do believe he suspects who made
it.” The poor girl burst into tears. “Oh!
William will be so dreadfully mortified at
me.”
“Oh ! never mind my child ! never mind !”
exclaimed the good woman. “God won’t
let you suffer.” She did not tell her that
this also, was for the same person. But she
was to hear it from another quarter.
The next morning she was seated in the
parlor working. The rain was pouring in
torrents, and she did not expect to see any
one; when she was startled by a ring at the
door, and the next moment Mr. Rolan enter
ed.
“Always at your needle, Miss Lucy?”
“Not when I have friends to talk to,” she
answered, putting aside the work-box, He
took up the work-box and seated himself by
her.
“I’m going to see what all you have got
here.”
“No you mus’nt,” she exclaimed, holding
out her hand for it.”
“ Yes 1 will.”
She looked very grave. “Mr. Rolan I
would not have you open that box for the
world.”
“Then most assuredly 1 shall see every
thing in it.”
“If you will, I can’t help it,” returned
Lucy, half vexed but more annoyed. She
tried to look composed, but all at once she
met his eyes fixed on her with such a quiz
zical look that the color rushed to her face.
Oh! that unfortunate waistcoat! He had
found a piece of it in her very work-box!
“You are very impudent,” she exclaimed,
rallying. “Now, good! you hav’nt found
any thing after all.”
“I’m not so sure of that!” he replied, put
ting his hand into his waistcoat pocket.
“What now?” asked Lucy. But there
was no deceiving any longer—he drew out
the lost thimble and placed it on her finger.
The poor girl’s heart failed and she burst in
to tears: for herself she cared not, but “poor
William” she thought, “how he will feel.”
She got up to leave the room, but Rolan’s
arm detained her.
“Lucy, dear Lucy,” lie said, “I would not
have given you a moment's pain for anything
in the world.”
“ I don’t believe one word of it,” sobbed
poor Lucy, half laughing and trying to get
away ; but Rolan stiff held her.
“Lucy,” he said, “you promised years
ago to be my wife. Be mine now.”
Lucy almost freed herself. “One word
mere, Lucy—you may sew as much for me
as you will.”
Lucy laughed. “I’ll never let you see
my work box again as long as I live.”
“Then verily, you’ll never have one;
come sit here, 1 have a great deal to talk to
you about:” and he drew her into a chair by
him.
“Mercy! what will William say?” ex
claimed she.
“ That you are a most original Authoress.
And I can add -as good at tailoriny as Car
lyle himself!”— Orion Magazine.
Puzzle. —Yap eht Retnirp.
cEljc Tamili) Circle.
VERSICLES.
{For Fathers and Mothers only) on an infant
daughter's first walking.
BY JAMES GREGOR GRANT.
Ha ! ambitious little elf!
Off by thy adventurous self?
Fairly off I O fair betide thee!
With no living thing besido thco ;
Not a leading string to guide thee:
Not acha : r to creep or crawl by j
Not a cii'Toned stool to fall by ;
Not a finger-tip to catch at;
Not a sleeve or skirt to snatch at;
Fairly off at length to sea,
Full twelve inches (can it bo
Iteally, truly I) from the lee
Os mamma's protecting knee !
\
Fair and softly—soft and fairly—
Little bark, thou saTst it rarely,
In thy new-born ) ower and pride,
O'er the carpet’s level tide.
Lurching, though, from side to side,
Ever and anon, and heeling
Like a tipsy cherub reeling,
(If e'en cherubs, saucy gypsy !
b'm le like thee, or e’er get tipsy !)
Even as though yon dancing mote
In the sunny air afloat.
Or the merest breath that met theo,
Might suffice to overset thee !
(
Helm a-weather ! steady! steady !
Nay the danger’s past already ;
Thou, with gentle course, untroubled,
Table-Cape full well hast doubled,
Sofa-Po'nt hast shot n-h ad,
Safe by Footstool Island spoil.
And art stearing, well and truly,
On for Closet-Ha: bur duly !
Anchor now, or turn in time,
E r e within the torrid clime
Which the trophic fender bounds,
And with brazen zone surrounds ,
„ Turn thee, weary little vessel,
Nor with further peril-: wrestle :
Turn thee to refit awhile
In the sweetly sheltering smile
Os thine own Maternal isle—
In the haven of dear rest
Proffered by the doting breast
And the ever ready knee
Os a mother true to thee
As the best of mothers be !
Nay! adventurous little ship !
If thine anchor’s still a ti ip,
And, instead of port, you choose
Such another toilsome cruise,
Whereso'er the whim may lead thee,
On ! my treasure ! and Qod speed thco!
Hackneyed as, perchance, they be,
, Solemn words arc these to me,
Nor from an irreve-ent lip
Heedlessly or lightly slip ;
Even He whose name 1 take
Thus, my dear one. for thy sake,
In this seeming idle strain,
Knows I take it not “in vain,”
But as in a parent’s prayer
Unto Him, to bless and spare !
THE WAY TO TEND A BABY.
A Qhippewa Indian has been lecturing in
Hartford, where, in a lecture on Tuesday
evening, according to the Times, he advised
the ladies of Hartford to tie their babies, as
soon as they were born, to a board, hind
them down tight, and keep them there most
of the time, till they are ten months old.—
“Put a hoop around the head,” he says “and
then when the hoard gets knocked over, it
won’t break the child’s nose.” He sums up
other advantages as follows :—“ you see, la
dies, (holding up a specimen,) the child’s
hands are tied down, so it can’t scratch its
own eyes out, and can’s scratch its mother’s j
breast, too; it can’t twiggle about and get
very tired; it can’t bend over, and must grow
straight—when the mother goes out after
herbs, she can hang it on a tree, and snakes
can't bite it; when it cries, the mother can
swing it across her back, and rock it so—
(swaying its body to and fro;) and can car
ry it great distances in this manner, too; can
set it up side of the wigwam, very handy;
and when the canoe turns over, the child
swims off on the hoard, not drown; and its :
hack don't break across his mother’s arm,
because the hoard supports it; the child can’t;
crawl into the fire and burn up, too—can
leave it long lime, all safe—so I think this 1
much best way, ladies—much best!” The ‘
ladies gave in their assent by a general laugh, j
Domestic Economy. —The following are
infallible recipes:—To make pie—Play at
Blind Man’s Buflin a printing office. To have
music at dinner—Tell your wife she is not
so handsome as the lady who lives across the
way. To save butter—Make it so salt that;
nobody can eat it.
’ i
JSfzy* It is a fair step towards happiness
and virtue to delight in the company and con
versation of good men.
©linipsES 0 fNtioXfijoks.
PUNISHMENT OF TITUS OATES
[From the Now Histonr of England, br Thom
Lubington Macaulay.] * * An °Was
James, a short time before his accession
had instituted a civil suit against Oates f
defamatory words, and a jury had <q V e
damages to the enormous amount of a°hu
died thousand pounds. The defendant Vi
been taken in execution and was ] y j njr j
prison as a debtor, without hope of
Two bills of indictment against him former
jury had been found by the grand jury 0 f
Middlesex, a few weeks before the death 0 f
Charles. Soon after the close of the elections
the trial came on. ‘ ’
Among the upper and middle classes Oates
had scarcely a friend left. AH intelligent
whigs were now convinced that, even if his
narrative had some foundation in fact, he
had erected on that foundation a vast super
structure of romance. A considerable num
ber of low fanatics, however, still regarded
him as a public benefactor. These people
well knew that, if he were convicted, his
sentence would he one of extreme severity
and were therefore indefatigable in their en
deavors to manage an escape. Though as
yet in confinement only for debt, he was put
in irons by the authorities of King's Bench
prison ; and even as he was, with difficulty
kept in safe custody. The mastiff that guard
ed his door was poisoned; and, on the very
night preceding his trial, a ladder of ropes
was intioduced into his cell.
On the day in which he was brought to
the bar, Westminster Hall was crowded with
spectators, among whom were many Roman
Catholics, eager to see the misery and humil
iation of their persecutor. A few years ear
lier, his short neck, his legs, uneven as a
badger, his forehead? low as that of a baboon,
his purple cheeks, and monstrous length of
chin, had been familiar to all who had fre
quented tlie courts of law. He had been the
idol of the nation. Wherever he had ap
peared, men had uncovered their heads to
him. The lives and the estates of the mag
nates of the realm had been at his mercy.—
Times had now changed; and many who
had formerly regarded him as the deliver of
his country, shuddered at the sight of those
hideous features, on which villainy seemed
to he written by the hand of God.
It was proved beyond all possibility of
doubt, that this man ffad, by false testimony,
deliberately murdered several guiltless per
sons. lie called in vain on the most eminent
members of the Parliament which had re
warded and extolled him, to give evidence in
his favor. Some of them whom he summon
ed absented themselves. None of them said
anything tending to his vindication. One ot
them, the Earl of Huntingdon, bitterly re
proached him with having deceived the houses
and drawn on them the guilt of shedding in
nocent blood.
The judges browbeat and reviled the pris
oner with an intemperance which, even in
the most atrocious cases, ill-becomes the ju
dicial character, lie betrayed, however, no
signs of fear or shame, and faced the storm
of invective which burst upon him from bar,
bench and witness box with the insolence of
despair. He was convicted on both indict
ments. Ilis offence, though in a moral light,
murder of the most aggravated kind, was, w
the eye of the law, merely a misdemeanor
The tribunal, however, wasdesirouse to make
his punishment more severe than that of fm
011s and traitors, and not merely to put him
to death, hut to put him to death by frightfu
torment. He was sentenced to be stripped 0
his clerical habit, to he pilloried in Pa.ace
Yard, to be led round Westminster Hall wff 1
an inscription declaring his infamy over m*
head, to he pilloried again in front of 10
Royal Exchange, to be whipped from Al
- to Newgate, and after an interval 0
two days, to he whipped from Newgate ‘>
Tyburn. If, against all probability,he shou
happen to survive this horrible infliction,
was to he kept a close prisoner during 1 e-
Five times a year he was to be brought tor *
from his dungeon and exposed on thepm° .
in different parts of the capital. _
This rigorous sentence was rigorously
ecuted. 0.1 the day on which Oates was p
loried in Palace Yard, lie was nierc l
pelted and ran some lisk of being l’ u ‘4
pieces; but in the city his partisans inns -
in great force, raised a riot, and upsc
pillory. They were, however, unable 0
cue their favorite. It was supposed ia . ,
would try to escape the horrible doom'’
awaited him by swallowing poison. -
he eat and drank was therefore caretu }
spected. On the following mormuK 110 -
brought forth to undergo the first
At an early hour an innumerable mu