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XOVGUTOX, MS BET & BARNES,
Publishers and Proprietors.
J«H. II. MM BET. } L,i
TE B ail* *.
T33 FEDERAL UNION,
Is publish'd Weekly, in the Duri-n Bank Building,
At $2 00 per Annum, payable in advance,
J>2 50 if not paid vithin three months, and
«g3 00 if not paid before the end of the year,
KATBM OF ADVERTIttlXC,
Per square of twelve lines.
One insertion 01), and Fifty Cents for each sub
sequent continuance.
Those sent without a specification of the number
of insertions, will be published till fo r bid, and
charged accordingly.
Business or Professional Cards, per year, where
they do not exceed one square - - - §10 00
/l i,In rid contract will be wade with those who wish to
Aartrtise by the year, occupying a specified space.
LEGAL ADVERTISEMENTS.
Sales of Land and Negroes, by Administrators,
Jv.,Tutors or Guardians, are required by law to be
le Id on ihe First Tuesday in the month, between
tin- hours of 10 in the forenoon and 3 in the after-
ri"on, at the Court House in the County in which
the property is situated.
Notice of these sales must be given in a public
gazette 40 days previous to the day of sale.
Notices for the sale of personal property must be
given in like manner 10 days previous to sale day.
Notices to the debtors and creditors of an estate
must also be published 40 davs.
Notice that application will lie made to the Court
of < trdinary for leave fo sell Land or Negroes, must
he published for two months.
i Potions f< r letters of Administration, Goardian-
p. Ac., must be published lilt days—for dismis
sion from Administration, monthly sir months—for
dismission from Guardianship, 40 davs.
Rules for foreclosure of Mortgage must be pub
lished monthly for four months—for establishing lost
papers, for the full spare o f three months—for com
piling titles from Executors or Administrators,
where bond has been given by the deceased, the
full space of three months.
Publications will always be continued according
to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise
ordered, at the following
RATES;
Citations on letters of Administration, A c. $2 75
“ “ dismissory from Admr'on. 4 50
“ “ Guardianship 3 00
Leave to sell Land or Negroes 4 00
Notice to debtors and creditors 3 00
Sales of persponal property, ten days, 1 sqr. 1 50
Ra^c of land or negroes by Executors, Ac. 5 00
Estrays, two weeks 1
For a man .advrrtisino- h's wife fin advance! 5
VOLUME XXVI1.]
MILLEDGEVILLE, GEORGIA, TUESDAY. APRIL 21. 1S57.
LNUMBER 47.
NEW BAKERY,
And V'oi\YecY\oSlore.
J OHN 1) I F N E K, most respeetfullv
inform the citizens of Milledgeville and
vicinity, that he has opened a BAKERY -fri
(3d Door North of the Post Office,) where
can he* found a!i of the different kinds and varieties
of BREAD. CAKES.PIES, &c., Baked F.rery Day.
ORA A .VGA TDD CAKES made to order.
All of the varieties of Candies, die.
Fancy, Butter, Soda, and Boston Crackers.
Raisins, Fifrs, Preserves, Jellies. Ac.
Orang, s. Lemons, Pickles, Nuts of all kinds, Ac.
Adamant me anti Sperm Candles.
Cigars and Tobacco, Sardines, Syc.
Fine Wines, Brandies, Schnapps,
Milledgeville, March 31, 1857. 44 4t
Land for Sale,
VIRILE lie sold at the Court House in Forsvtn.
It Monroe county, on the first Tuesday in JULY
next, one lot of Land in MoDroe county, seven
miles from Forsyth, on the Bamesville road, lying
between Joseph Hill's and John Poe’s lands. The
Macon and Western Railroad runs through one
corner of it. This Lot of Land is well timbered,
it has no improvement except about 40 acres of
cleared land, which is ready for cultivation, and a
good well of water. Persons desiring to purchase
a small place would do well to examine it. Terms
made, known the dav of sale.
" CHARLES H. CARTER.
ISAAC W.COUSINS.
WM. IIARTAWAY.
April 14th, 1857. 46 *tds.
BUSINESS C 4 K OS.
Messrs. A. H. & L. If. KENAN.
Abe Associate)! in the Practice of Law
Office 1st Door upon 2d floor of
MASOS1C HALL.
Jan. 23d. 1657. 35 tf.
S. W . I’ A II KE It.
Attorney nt t.ntr,
32 ly] COLQUITT, GA.
A . 11. M ’ £ A W li,
Attorney at Law,
32 ly*j BLAKELY, GA.
nit a ii cuiwminfo.
.fit! Ion. H 'ilkinson Count ip Gn.,
Tenders his Professional services to the citizens
of Wilkinson county. [Jan. 6, 57, ly
THOMAS J. UOA,
A T T (J U .YE Y A T L A JV,
NEWTON, Baker county, Ga. .
March 16, 1856. 42 tf
DK. CHAS. H. HALL,
.tJilledgtriile, Ga.
Office near the Court House. Country
CALLS PROMPTLY ANSWERED.
June 24th, 1856. 4 tf
CIIAS. E N1SBET,
A T T O li NE Y A T L A W,
Cnthbcri, Ga.
April 3d, 1854. 44
GRIEVE A GRIEVE,
A T T O If N E Y S AT L A JV,
MILLEDGEVILLE, GA.
MILLER GRIEVE, SEN. HILLER GRIEVE, JR.
Oct. 7th, 1656. . 19 tf
HOWARD ASSOCIATION.
PHILADELPHIA.
1VI PORT AS T ANNOUNCEMENT.
T O all persons afflicted with Sexual Diseases,
such as Spermatorrhoea, Seminal Weakness,
Impotence, Gonorrhoea, Gleet, Syphilis, the vice
of Onanism, or Self-Abuse, Ac. Ac.
The Howard Association, in view of the awful
destruction of human life, caused by Sexual Dis
eases, and the deceptions practised upon the un
fortunate victims of such diseases by Quacks, have
directed their consulting Surgeon, as a charitable
act worthy of their name, to give medical advice
gratis, to all persons thus afflicted, who apply by
letter, with a description of their condition, (age,
occupation, and habits of life. Ac.) and in case of
extreme poverty and suffering, to furnish Medi
cines free of charge.
The Howard Association is a benevolent institu
tion, established by special endowment, for the re-
lief of the sick and distressed, afflicted with ‘’Viru
lent or Epidemic Diseases.” It has now a surplus
of means, which the Directors have voted to ex
pend in advertising the above notice. It is use
less to add that the Association commands the
highest medical skill of the age, and will furnish
the most approved modern treatment.
Just published by the Association, a Report on
Spermatorrhoea, or Seminal weakness, the vice of
Onanism, Masturbation or Self-Abuse, and other
diseases of the sexual organs, by the consulting
Surgeon, which will be sent by mail, (in a sealed
envelope) free of charge, on the receipt of two
stamps for postage.
Address Dr. Geo. R. Calhoun, consulting Sur
geon, Howard Association, No. 2 South Ninth st.,
Philadelphia, Pa. By order of the Directors.
EZRA I). HEARTWELL, President.
Geo. Fairchild, Secretary. 20 ly*
Administrator's Sale.
B Y VIRTUE of an order of the Court of Ordina
ry of Wilkinson county; Will be sold on the
first Tuesday in MAY next, at the Court House
door in Dooly county within the legal hours of
sale, the following lot of land to-wit:
Half lot Land No. 175, in the 6th District of
Dooly county. Sold as the property of Benjamin j
Jackson, late of Wilkinson county deceased.
Terms cash.
R. A. STANLEY, Adm’r.
March 25th, 1857. 44 tds.
WALKE16 D. SEIVELL,
A T T O II N E Y AT LA JV,
6 ly IRWINTON, GA.
^IXTY days afterdate application will be made
O to the Ordinary Court of Jasper county, for
leave to sell the land and negroes of estate of Joel
Reeves, late of said county, deceased.
JOSEPH REEVES, Adm’r.
April 7,1357. (P. r. L.) 46 2m
JOHN G THOMAS,
ATTORNEY & COUNSELLOR AT LAW. !
AMER1CUS, GA.
\~XJ ILL at end all the Courts of the SOUTH-j
V* Western Circuit.
M-.y 20,1856. 51 l y
Tll(>!» T. L«4G,
A T TO II NE Y AT L A JV, I
itRliVSWICK, GA.
\ T 7 ILL practice in the Courts of Glynn, Wavne.
' V Camden, McIntosh, Liberty and Chatham,
of the Eastern Circuit: Charnon, Lowndes, Clinch,
Ware and Appling, of the Southern; also, Duval
county, Florida. •>! ly
J A W. J. ItELLEY,
COMMISSION AND FORWARDING ;
ii ii UII VI'i‘3 3
CHATT4YOOI5A, TENN.
14 ly.
Sep..2, 1856.
HINES Sc HOBBS,
ATTORE IES A T LAW,
AL1M.W, GA.
Practice in Dougherty and the surrounding Coun
t . s, in the U. S. Circuit Court, for ihe South
ern District Georgia, and in any county
iri the State by special agreement.
New York—Carhart, Brother & Co., Wolfe &j
Ilishop; Alexis, Bragg A Warren; E. & R. R.-t
Graves; Havilland, Harral A Risley; A. P. Hal
sey, Cash’r B’k N. Y.
Savasnaii.-Ga.—Bclden A Co.: Bacon A Levy;
Cheever A Co ; Patten, Hutton A Co.; Rogers A
Norris; C. H. Campfield, Esqr.
Charleston, 8. C.—Dewing, Thayer A Co.; i
Chamberlain,Miler A Co.; J. A E. Bancroft; E. B.
Stoddard A Co.; T. N. Horsey A Co.; T. A.
Moise. Esqr.
Macon, Ga— E A. A J. A. Nisbet; Poe A
Co.; J. L. Jones, Esqr.; I.C. Plant, Esqr., Edwin!
Grans. Esqr,; Asher Ayres Esqr. 33 tf
Thomas Hardeman, Jr. J- 'V Griffin.
HARDSaXACT <St GRIFFIN,
WHOLESALE GROCERS,
D ealers in wines, liquors, tobac
co, SEUAI1S and Groceries of every de- j
6cription.
Corner of Cherry and Third Sts.,
.VIACON, GA
Sept. 2d, 1656. *£
J, irllCSS,
GENER A L LAND AGENT j
FOR THE STATE OF GEORGIA.
’IVTLL give the real owner of any lot, for §1 00 ; j
r Y will examine and report the value of any lot j
fur 85 tin. Will sell and convey for 5 per cent.
He is now agent, for the sale of 2500 vacant lots i
in tiie State, and some of the best farms in South-j
• rn and Cherokee, Ga. lie will also buy lands in
any part of the State, at a fair prico.
All letters addressed to him at Butler, Ga., will I
nn “t with prompt attention.
Nov. 17, 1656. “6 ly
Dr. McLAKE’S
CELEBRATED
VERMIFUGE
IA\FM PILLS.
Two ofthr best Preparations of I lie Age,
They are not recom
mended as Universal
Cure-alls, hut simply for
what their name pur
ports.
The Vermifuge, for
expelling Worms from
the human system, has
also been administered
with the most satisfactory
results to various animals
subject to Worms.
The Liver Pills, for
the cure of Liver Com
plaint, all Bilious De
rangements, Sick Head
ache, See.
Purchasers will please
be particular to ask for
Dr. C. McLane’s Cele
brated Vermifuge and
Liver Pills, prepared by
(^.(fAWUUt Q^')'
(iMXcA.
ETHERIDGE 8c SON,
Tailors, Commission and Forwarding
MEH.OHA»I TS,
HA VANN AH, HA.
ETHERIDGE. W. D. ETHERIDGE, Jr
.-Lily 15th. 1656. 8 tf
LAST WEEK AT OUR
EA T 0 N T 0 N AMBROTYPE
GAIiliEELY !
IVIIA K I. E V A W HITE,
H A.V ING taken a room in Fat on ton, are now
ready to take LIKENESSES iu the most im
proved styles, iii a very short time. Call and ex-
s aiae our specimens. As our stay will bo short,
advise tl n who are in want of a good likeness
f'> caii this week.
March 17 1657 42 tf
f «W\\ ,\\vV‘«v\Yvc \\uvva\ Las**, a.
PHF, Subscribers have now on hand, all of the
*- different Sizes of Fist's jVste Style if Metallic
onrial Cases, which will he sold at a small profit.
L KENFIELD & Co.,
(Mnsonic Hall.
^Milledgeville, March 24. 1857 . 43 tf
IY days after the publication of this Notice,
* > I sliail apply to the honorable Court of Ordin
ary of I’ulaski county, for leave to sell a part of
t,ie real estate of Matthew B. McCouib, late of said
county,deceased.
„ , DANIEL MATTHEWS, Adm’r.
February 25. 1867. 42 3m
sole proprietors, Pitts
burgh, Pa., and take no
other, as there are various
other preparations now
before the public, pur
porting to be Vermifuge
and Liver Pills. All
others, in comparison
with Dr. McLane’s, arc-
worthless.
The genuine McLane’s
Vermifuge and Liver
Pills can now be had at
all respectable Drug
Stores.
FLEMING BRO’S,
CO Wood St., Pittsburgh, Pa.
Sol© Proprietors.
e oril 5f Mead,So. Ill Charles st. New Orleans
General Wholesale Agents for the Southern
States, to whom all Orders must be addressed.
r£»* Sold by E. J. White &. Bro.; Jas. Herty;
F. G. Grieve, Millodge.ville: Geo. Payne, E. L.
Stroheker, Macon; I New ell, Gordon; Beall &
Chambers.Irwiuton; W.H.Burnett, Sparta:NW
Haynes, Sandersville; Long & Durham, Jeffer
sonville; N.8. Pruden, Eatonton; llurd & Hun-
gerford, Mouticelio; W. A. Hayles, Louisville,
Ga., and by one agent in every town in the
State. [march 24, ’57, ly
WOOD*S~HAIK RESTORATIVE,
For Saleby E. J. JYhit*,
NEW GOODS
JUST RECEIVED AT THE
MiHedgerillc Clothing Store,
In Hotel, No. 1.
A general assortment of Men’s, Youth's and Boys’
Spring and Summer Clothing,
of superior quality, all made to order, and the
work warranted. For sale on liberal terms.
A. C. VAIL, Agent.
March, 1857. 44 tf.
FHESH AH RIVALS!
JUST RECEIVED, A LARGE VARIETY
OF CARDIES,
EMBRACING all of the variety of Wine. Brandt/}
Cordial and Cum Drops’ Sugar Plums, Sugar Al
monds, and all the different kinds of Choice and
Common CANDIES. Also Apples. Oranoes. Lias,
Dates, Raisins, Sfc., NUTS OF ALL KINDS. =
Smoked Beef, Bnffulo Tongues, Bologna Sau
sage. Sardines, .Ye., together with hundreds of the
different kinds of Limey Articles, to which the at
tention of the public is respectfully invited.
JOHN CONN.
Milledgeville, April 7tb, 1857. 45 tf
SAVzlNWAH LOTTERY!
On the Havana Plan of Single Numbers!
A X D E R S 0 X &, S 0 X, Managers,
[Successors to J. F. WINTER, Manager,]
Prizes Payable without reduction,
CAPITAL PRIZE 860,000!!!
Jasper County Academy Lottery!
I By Authority of the Stale of Georgia.]
CLASS X.
Draws May 15th. 1657, at St. Andrews’ Hall, Sa
vannah, Ga., under the sworn superintendence
of W. R. Symons, Esq, and J. M. Prentiss, Esq.
IIAG.\IFICJGAT SCHEME.
1 Prize of
1 “
60,000
20.0(H)
10,000
5.000
2.000
3.000
2.500
10,000
5.000
3,760
90,00i)
|]of trn.
Soar High! Soar High!
Soar high! soar high! nor fear to fly,
Think not about the falling—
Stay not to shrink upon the brink
Of high or holy calling;
But being right, with all thy might
Go on—the < loads of sorrow,
That here to-day obscure the way,
May all be gone to-morrow.
The world may sneer and laugh and jeer,
Y'et stay not for repining;
Alike for all the great and small,
Creation’s light is shining.
Take heart of oak. there is no stroke
Man strikes, but it may aid him;
For if the deed from good proceed,
Say what on earth shall stay him?
As every joy we unemploy
Is an ungracious pleasure;
So every gift we cast adrift
Is a most wasted treasure.
And it may be. pei chance, if we
Should once alike refuse them,
W e may again strive to regain
The slightest power to use them.
Soar high! soar high! nor fear to fly
Think not about the falling—
There is a power in every hour
To help us in our calling:
If only more we would adore,
And seek its mighty aiding;
Nor rack our brains, ami take such pains
To seek for things so fading
3 Prizes of .51,000 are
5 “ 500 are
100 “ J00 are
100 “ 50 are
72 Approximation Prizes,
30i)0 Prizes of 539 are
3286 Prizes amounting to $215,260
FrN'TIOKET.S $10; Halves $5; Quarters $2i-.=£5
US’ 3 Bank Notes of sound Banks taken at par.
Checks on New York remitted for Prizes.
-SPAddress Orders for Tickets or Certificates
for Packages of Tickets to
ANDERSON A .SON, Managers,
Macon or Savannah, Ga.
Ui ? ' Persons holding Prize Tickets of J. F. Win
ter, Manager, will send them to us for payment.
~SWAX & CO’S., LOTTERfEsT
CAPITAL PRIZE
OCT #50,000!!!^o
TICKET.*! ONLY $10.
Owing to the great favor with which our Single
Number Lotteries have beeu received by the pub-
lie, and tile large demand for Tickets, the Mana
gers, S. Swan" A Co., will have a drawing each
Saturday throughout the year. The following
Scheme wiil be drawn in each of their Lotteries
for APRIL, 1857.
CLASS 33,
To be drawn in the city of Atlanta, Ga., in public,
On Saturday, April 2oth, 1S57.
On the plan of Single Numbers. Three thous
and two bundled and ninety prizes. More thau one
prize to every ten tickets.
MAGNIFICENT SCHEME!
To be Drawn each Saturday in APRIL.
1 Prize
of $50,000
J Prize of
2,500
1 “
20,000
1 “
2,500
I
10,000
l “
2,500
1 “
10,000
t “
2,500
3 “
5,000
1,000
1 “
2,500
100 Prizes of
100
1 “
2,500
too
50
APPROXIMATION PRIZES.
4 Prizes of $225 apx. to $50,000 prz. are
$900
4
‘ 160 “
20,000
640
8
8(1 “
10,000 “
(ill)
12
‘ 59 “
5,01:0 “
600
21
‘ 30
2,500
729
20
‘ 25 “
1,000 “
500
3000
‘ 20 are
60,000
3,29 I Prizes amounting to $204,000
WHOLE TICKETS $10, HALVES $5. QUARTERS $21.
PLAN OF THE LOTTERY.
The Numbers from 1 to 30,000, corresponding
with those Numbers on the Tickets printed on
separate slips of paper, are encircled with small
tin tubes and placed in one Wheel.
The first, 218 Prizes, similarly printed and en
circled, are placed in another wheel.
The wheels are then revolved, and a number is
drawn from the wheel of Numbers, and at the same
time a Prize is drawn from the other wheel. The
Number and Prize drawn out are opened and ex
hibited to the audience, and registered by the Com
missioners; the Prize being placed against the
Number drawn. This operation is repeated until
all the Prizes are drawn out.
Approximation Prizes.—The two preceding and
the two succeeding Numbers to those drawing the
first 13 Prizes will lie entitled to the 72 Approxima
tion Prizes, according to the scheme.
The 3,0)10 Prizes of $20 will be determined by
the last figure of the Number that draws the $50,-
000 Prize. For example, if the Number drawing
the $50,000 Prize ends with No. 1, then all the
Tickets, where the number ends in 1, will been-
titied to $20. If the Number ends with No. 2,
then all the Tickets where the Number ends in 2
will be entitled to $30, and so on toO.
Certificates of Packages will be sold at the fol
lowing rates which is the risk:
Certificate of Package of 10 Whole Tickets, $80
“ “ 19 Half “ 40
“ “ li* Quarter “ 20
“ “ 10 Eighth, “ 10
In ordering tickets or certificates, enclose the
money to our address for the tickets ordered, on
receipt of which they will bo forwarded by first
mail. Purchasers can have tickets ending in any
figure they may designate. The list of drawn
numbers and prizes will be sent to purchasers im
mediately after the drawing.
{IP' Purchasers will please write their signatures
plain, ami give their post office, county and State.
Remember that every prize is drawn and payable
in fuil without deduction. All prizes of $1,000
and under, paid immediately after the drawing—
other prizes at the usual time of thirty days.
All communications strietly confidential.
Prize tickets cashed or renewed in other tickets
at either office. Address orders for tickets or cer
tificates, to S. SWAN & Co., Atlanta, Ga.
MirDUJAL NOTICE.
T HE Undersigned having availed himself of all
the advantages of a Course in the Jefferson
Medical C. ltege, at Philadelphia; and University of
New York; Azlettes private Lecture; Bedford’s
clinics, great facilities at Bellveue and Emigrants
Hospitals, and a practice of about three years: has
located himself at MARION, Twiggs county, where
he solicits a liberal share of patronage.
J. T. CHAPPELL, M. D.
Ma rion, Twiggs county, Jan. 15, 1857. 34 3m
BUSS’ OYSPtPHC fiEMEDY!
Notice to the Dyspeptics, ami Atilicted.
All those who have the misfortune to be afflict
ed with Dyspepsia, Liver Complaint, or where the
physical and mental powers are depressed, palpita
tion of the heart, difficult breathing, irritation of
the stomach, or inflammatory bowels, will be pleas
ed to learn that a remedy can he found in BLISS’
DYSPEPTIC REMEDY’! A few Packages are yet
to be had, at the Drug Store of eit her F. G. Grieve
K. J. White A Bro, or Jas. Herty, Milledgeville.
Price, single Package $2: six packages $10; it will
be sent by mail, (post-paid,) to any part of the
country, upon the reception of the price. 3m
SA DDL ES, HARNESS AND
LEATHER STORE.
[Xext Door to CONN’S FANCY Store.]
THE subscriber has just received from New
Y’ork, a choice selection of
Ladir,' an,l Grnllrnirna' Kndille.,
Saddlery. Bridlrs, Carpel Rags, Saddle Bags, iibips
Spurs, Harness and Sole Leather, Kid and CalJ
Skins, Lace Leather, Band Leather, Sfc. !(c.
Also Men’s Double Sole Russet Brogan Shoes.
fs” Saddles and Harness manufactured and re
paired on short notice.
r?P Also Boots and Shoes, manufactured and
repaired to order, with neatness and dispatch.
SAMUEL B. BROWN.
April 3. 1357. 45 tf
JUST RECEIVED, A CHOICE LOT OF
PICKLES AND CHOW CHOW.
For Sale at COO ’ S
miscellaneous.
The Second Wile.
BY VIRGINIA F. TOWNSEND.
CHAPTER I.
I was married. The final vows had been spoken,
and I was no longer Agnes Park, but Agnts Flem-
. I was the wife of a widower, of tuirtv-eight,
and the stepmother of three children! Not the
first chosen, first beloved, bride of a young
and ardent lover, such as my girlish dreams had
pictured!’ only a second wife!
The reflection was not sweet; nevertheless it
was thought with which I took my seat in the
carriage which was to convey uie to my new
home. The short wedding tou* was ended, and
wo were “homeward bound.’’ A long ride was
still before us, for the 'ullage in which Captain
Fleming resided was twenty miles from the last
railway station; but he had caused his own car
riage to meet us there, so I began fully to realize
that we were nearing home.
The road over which we jourued was level and
smooth, and, for a long time, wound close by the
bank of a broad river. Felds lay on one side,
stretching far away, until they were skirted by
low woods and hills; here and there a white farm
house stood, looking cheerfully and almost gay in
the afternoon sunshine. The whole prospect was
rural and very beautiful.
My gloom began to pass away, soothed by the
sweet influences of the Sumner landscape, and
visions of future usefulness began already to float
through my brain I had .ample opportunity to
indulge in these day dreams, for Capt. Fleming
tired with the long ride, was half asleep by the
side of his new wife. I was weary of taking the
lead in conversation, and concluded to leave him
to his meditations, as he had left me to mine. Af
ter weaving for myself a very profitable future, I
looked, for a little, upon the past.
Oh that past! Mine had been no gay and pam
pered childhood; but looking back. I saw, outlie
contrary,(years of loneliness of weariness, and of
sorrow. Four years I had watched a young, beau
tiful, and gifted brother, as, stricken with con
sumption, he had wasted gradually away. We
two were orphans, the last of our race, and all in
all to each other.
But, at last, I saw him laid in the coffin, and
all my love and hopes were long hurried with him.
Not that I became sad and misanthropic. No;
life and duty were not dead: and, looking forward,
I saw that there was yet much for me to do, per
haps suffer, so I planted sweetbrier and violets on
Hairy’s grave, and then went out to act and strive
with the rest of the striving world.
About a year after my brother's death I met
Arthur Fleming. 1 had been so shut out fr,.m
the world by Harry's sickness that I had no lov
ers, and very few friends, and I hardly believed I
could ever again feel an interest in any one; but
Arthur Fleming's kind, genial manner and deli
cate attentions warmed my heart to a new life.
Unconsciously, my whole heart, all the more ar
dent for its long stillness, was given to this new
friend. It was with bitter disappointment that I
learned he had already been once married, for I
could not bear the thought ofa rival, living or
dead: yet I loved him, and when he asked me to
become a mother to his motherless children. I
accepted his hand, feeling sure that I would win
from him in time an affection as deep and steadfast
as mv own. His house was lonely, his children
poorly protected, and he needed a wife. Iliad
been recommended to him as one who would keep
his house in order, and ben suitable companion
for bis children, after a brief acquaintance he had
proposed iu due form
“Almost home!” exclaimed Captain Fleming,
rousing himself to look out of the carriage win
dow. The words sent a thrill through me and I
looked eagerly out, through the twilight shadows,
to the house we were approaching. It was large,
and stood at a distance from the village street, and
it seemed to me in rather a desolate situation.
Great trees swung their branches over the gate
way. and, as we rode between them, the wind
made a sighing sound among the leaves. But
the 1'ghtcd lower windows shone cheerfully in tlie
darkness, seeming by their brightness to welcome
me home.
Jane Fleming my husband’s sister, who had
been his housekeeper since his wife’s death, came
to the door too meet us. The moment her cold
fingers touched mine, I felt that there would be no
sympathy between us: anJ when we had entered
the lighted parlor, and I had scruten zed her face,
I was sure of it—without a word she stood beside
iup, while I took off my bonnet and gloves; she
carried them away, then as silently walked into
the room again, leading the three children. I feel
now the chill of her presence upon me.
The three ran into their father's arms, and em
braced him affectionately, and, as he earrassed
them in return. I perceived that there was a
fountain of warmth in his heart which could I
reach it, wonid be enough to shield me from cold
and darkness foiever. This show of passionate
fondness made me glad, and, going to his sid-. I
tried to win the notice of the children to myself.
“It is your new mother,” said he. “She has
come to take care of you when I'm gone to sea
again. Ellen and May, go to vour mother.”
May, a pretty, blue-eyed child of t’Ti, came slyly
toward me, and kissed my cheek; hut Ellen seem
ed to have embibed somewhat of her aunt's icy
manner, for she sat aloof and watched me coldly.
The little boy now lifted his head from his father's
shoulder, and seeing that May stood by me un
banned, ventured to approach me.
“Come to me, Harry!” said Miss Fleming, with
a frown.
Was his name Harry? I caught him to my
arms and held him closely, so that he could not
escape to his jealous aunt, and I thought in my
secret heart, that 1 would make him like the Harry
I had lost. In an instant, the feeling that I was a
stranger had vanished, my heart had warmed so
toward the little 011c whose auburn head nestled
in my arms. My husband looked pleased and
smiled, giving his sister a gratified look; and I ob
served the shadow of a smile on l.er lips but it
faded again as she glanced at Ellen. When the
clock struck nine, Miss Jane rose and led the
children to their chambers. I bade them good
night as they went out, hut I noticed that Ellen
made no answer.
The next morning I made a business of going
over the house and examining its conveniences.
The first step upon the broad, gloomy staircase
chilled me; but when, after visiting every room,
I sat down in the parlor again—I was almost dis
couraged. Such a dreary disordered bouse I never
saw. In ev- rv chamber the curtains hung over
the windows like shrouds, and the air was cold
and damp as a dungeon. There was dust on the i
walls, on the windows, and the furniture, there |
was gloom in every corner. The parlor which
might have been a deligluful room, seemed like
a sepulchre. The furniture, as well as the pic
tures, were covered with canvass. A locked hook
case stood in a recess, and a locked piano was by
the opposite wall. I asked little May, who had
kept close by me all the morning, why this was
so.
“Aunt Jane doesn’t like music, she said “and
see keeps the book case locked, because she says
we must not rend books until we arc older.”
“And w#v is the furniture all covered?”
“The parlor is scarcely ever opened.” answered
May. “Aunt Jane wants to keep it nice.”
“Well, May,” I said “go now and ask Aunt
Jane for the key of the bookcase. 1 want to sec
the books.”
She ran quickly, and returned, followed by Miss
Jane, who delivered up the key to me with a dubi
ous kind of grace.
“I hope you will lock the book-case when you
have examined the books, ma’am,” said she, “I
don’t allow the children to spend their time in
light reading.”
“What are they now reading?” I asked.
“They learn their lessons,” she replied, shortly.
She disappeared, and I opened- the book-case,
which J f“uu<i t9 contain a most excellent selection
of books. The best poets, the best historians, the
best novelists and biographers, were there, mak-
iug a library small, but ot rich value. It was the
first rcallv pleasant thing I had found in my new
home, and I sat an hour or two. glancing over one
volume after another, and rearranging them on
the shelves.
Suddenly Miss Jane looked in, and in a moment
her face was pale with indignation, for there sat
little May on the carpet, buried in a charming oid
English annual. Miss Jane took two steps for
ward, and snatching the hood out of the child s
hand, threw it 011 their table, then ied her by the
shoulder out of the room. I was nmte with
amazement at this rough government at first; then
I sprang up and would have followed her had not
the fear of an outbreak restrained me.
“Selfish creature!” I exclaimed, “you are try
ing to make these children like yourself, ruining
them for all good or happiness in life. In Ellen’s
sullenness and coldness I see the fruit of your la
bor. Was Arthur Fleming blind when be left his
chijdren to your keeping?”
I saw no more ol the children until dinner,
when, by questioning, I learned that they had
been studying all the morning with Miss Fleming.
I informed her that I should sit with them in the
afternoon, as I wished to see what progress tliey
were making. The look with which she received
this aunouucment plainly indicated that I should
be an unwelcome listener to her lessons, and fur a
few minutes my heart so failed me, perplexed by
her contemptuous glances, that I half determined
to have nothing to do with the children, but leave
them to her, since she was so jealous of them.
But my bitter spirit prevailed over me. “They
are mine now,” 1 thought, “for I am their father's
wife, and all his are mine. Their interests must
be mine.”
After dinner. Miss Jane and the children repair
ed immediately to (lie chamber which was used
ms a school room. In a few minutes I followed
them, and quietly took a seat at the desk. She
was drilling them in arithmetic, sending one after
another to the blackboard and talking all the time
in a loud petulent tone.
“Ellen, if you make such awkward figures I'll
put you back in the beginir.g of the book,
May, w ill you stand straight, or be sent to bed?—
Decide now!”
•‘I cannot understand the sum, Aunt Jane,”
sighed May.
“Sit down then, until you can.”
“Doyou not. explain what they cannot under
stand?” I asked.
“All that is necessary,” she replied. ‘ May
cou understand her sums if she attended to
May was in iscaclies.
me to play?” she asked,
happy!
“May!” said Jane, sternly,
did not heed: her faith in her
“Oh, will you teach
It would make me so
An hour passed, during which May silently
hung her head over her slate, and played with her
pon ail. Miss Jane offering no explanation. Harry
alternately counted, with his fingers, the buttons
on his jacket and marks of a knife on his desk —
Ellen, whose strong mind received knowledge
almost infutively, studied her lesson quietly and
without difficulty. Presently she gave her book to
her aunt, and recited her lesson perfectly.
“Very well, Ellen, said Miss Jane. “You may
go into the garden, and amuse yourself.”
“Do they not play together?” 1 inquired with
astonishment, not pleased with the idea of solitary,
mirthless exercise.
“N t unless they learn their lessons equally
well," she answered. Harry! il I five, the boy is
going to sleep! Stand in the corner, Harry, until
you are awake.”
Harry colored, and went to the corner, rubbing
his eyes. I felt disgusted at this fatal lack of sys
tem, order, and justice, which prevailed in this
mock school. I was growing frightened .at the
work before me, fearful that Jane Fleming had
sown more tares than my week bauds could ever
root out.
Seeing that Harry was crying I went to him in
his corner.
“Go away!,’ he sobbed, when I laid my
bands on bis bead. “Go away. Y ou are not my
mother!”
I made no reply to this, but asked him why he
cried.
“Because I am tired.” he answered, “and you
and Aunt Jane won’t let me sit down.”
“I and Aunt Jane, Harry?”
“Y’es” he sobbed out. “Anut Jane says yon are
come here to live always and will make me mind
you.”
“It is not true, Harry,” I whispered. “I love
you, and want you to love me. Won’t you love
me darling?”
But he only thrust out his little hand sullenly
and turned his face away from ine. Jane now
came forward, and I turned from the child with a
sigh of disappoint ment.
“But I will he patient, I said to myself. “They
have been taught to fear and dread me; I cannot at
once make them love me.”
The next morning Capt. Fleming left for a six
months voyage in his new barque, the May Flem
ing. His parting with the children was most ten
der and affectionate, even tearful—with me it was
kind. After he had gone I stole up to my room,
and spent the morning in bitter weeping and sad
ness. What would become of me, if I should in
trying to make myself beloved by his children—if
their hearts were irrevocably steeled against me?
Would nothis own grow gradually colder and cold
er toward me? Fearful prospect!
CHAPTER II.
I heard a soft tap at my door and little May
entered. She, too had been crying: when she saw
traces of tears on my face, she came gently up to
me, and crept into my lap.
“Do you love father, too?” she asked, iu her
frank, simple manner.
“Yes. darling, I iove him,” I answered, “and I
want to love you ail, and be loved by you. Now
he is gone, I am very sad and lonely. Will you
not love me May?”
The child kissed me gravely; but did not reply
to the question.
“Aunt Jane sent me to call you to dinner,” she
said slipping from my arms.
When we had finished this lonely meal, and the
children and Jane had gone up stairs to the after
noon lessons, I visited one or two rooms w ich
had attracted my observation the day before. One
was the attic chamber, where I had noticed a heap
of old packages which I wished to examine. Iu
one corner stood a pile of old pictures, some soiled,
some with broken frames, but which on examina
tion, I found worthy to be rubbed up and newly
framed. One especially won my admiration. It
was the portrait of a young and beautiful woman.
The soft auburn hair and hazel eyes were lovely,
and the features though not expressive of any
great energy or depth of character, were faultless
ly regular.
1 heard some one passing in the hall, and open
ed the door to ask some questions about these pic
tures. It was Ellen.
“Are you busy, Ellen?” I asked. “If not. I
wish you would come hero a moment.”
Ellen looked surprised, but followed me without
any reply.
“I want to know something about these
pictures. Some of them arc very fine, and it
seems to me strange that they should hang here out
of sight.”
“They got injured,” said Ellen; “and Auq£ Jane
did not have time to get them mended.”
“Here is a beautiful landscape,” 1 said.
I knew by the quick dilating of Ellen's hazel
eyes, as she looked at the picture, that she could
appreciate its excellence, and I regretted that she
had been so long debarred the privelege of cultiva
ting her naturally artistic taste. I resolved to help
her to make up the lost time
“Now here is one in which I am still more inter
ested,” I said, taking up the portrait. “Who is this,
Ellen?”
Ellen started, and the color rushed to her
cheeks, as she answered, in a low voice, “It is my
mother.”
I had suspected as much. The resemblance
was striking between the pictured face and little
Harry.
“Is this the way you preserve your mother’s por
trait?” J asked.
“Aunt Jane put it away before ”
“Before I came Ellen?”
“Y’es,” was the brief reply.
“Well, I shall take better care of it in future. I
am not come to stand between you and your moth
er, Ellen. I wish you to love and honor her mem
ory above all others. I shall try to make you
wiser and happier than ever, instead of gloomy and
sad.”
There was aslight quiver about Ellen’s firm lip,
as she turned and left. I began to feel encourag
ed. That evening I had a lire made in the parlor,
the piano was unlocked and I took my music from
my trunks In the “gloaming.” before there was
any light in the room, save the tremulous fire-light,
I sat down to play. They were all there; Jane at
crotchet work in a corner, and the children seated
silently about the fire.
I found the piano an excellent instrument, and
after playing a variation, which drew a sigh from
the depths of Miss Jane’s bosom, and a shout of
delight from my little Harry, I began to sing. It
was an old plaintive, Scotch song thatl chose;
semethingto touch, and melt the heart.
May and Harry were standing, one on each side
of me, when I ended, auJ their glowing faces ex
pressed their delight.
“I like that,” said Harry. “I wish Aunt Jane
wouldn’t keep the piano locked, so that nobody
can touch it.”
A loud warning cough from his amiable aunt
made him shrink a little closer to me. “Do sing
another, please!” whispered May, and 1 sung
Geothe s ‘"Miller and the Brook,*’ that wild, merry
old song.
What do I say for a murmur
That can murmur be?
Tis the water nymphs that are singing
Tbfii r$uafcl»y» under me!
But the little girl
aunt was fast de
creasing.
•‘1 will, certainly, if you wish it,” I replied.
“Both Ellen and you may take lessons as soon as
yon please to hegin. I do not wish you to be con
fined whol.y to arithmetic.”
I turned from the piano and sat by the fire, af
ter bavin? lighted ihe lamp. May and Harry
were darn ing about in the middle of the room and
even Ellen smiled at their playful rudeness.—
Jane, seeing that they took no heed of her dreary
coughs and sighs, rose and left the room. I took
quick advantage of her absence.
Going to the bookcase, I selected an interesting
volume, and sat down with it near the lamp.—
“Y’ou have heard of Joan of Arc, have you not, El-
leu?” I asked.
“I do not remember that I have,” she answered-
“Whowas she?"
“Her story was a very wonderful one.—
I will read it, ifyon would like to hear it,” I an
swered.
“Is it it true?” cried Harry, leaving his play.
“Y’es. Harry. It happened many years ago, in
France. Shall I read it!”
Harry and May were already eager to hear it,
and Ellen looked interested, though she said noth
ing. I took Harry in mv lap, and began to read
the strange, thrilling story. Alilistened with the
deepest attention.
By and by Ellen interrupted me, saying—
“if you are tired, let me read it aw hile, moth-
I was tired, and gave it up to her gladly, she had
called me “mother!”
At nine, Aunt Jane came and called them to
bed.
“No, no, aunty; we’ll como as soon as we find
out what became of poor Joan!” cried May.—
“Shall we stay, mother/”
Let them stay a little longer,” I said to Miss
Jane. The door closed, and Ellen proceeded with
the story.
Sing us one little song!” said May, when the
story was ended. I complied willinglv, and sung
“Let us love one another.” When 1 had finished.
May sprang up and gave me a good night kiss.—
Harry followed her example.
“I want one more,” I sa.d turning to Ellen, and
with a grave smile, she kissed me and bade me
goodnight. That night my pillow was haunted
with happy dreams.
Much of the ensuing week was spent in rear
ranging the rooms, in order to give them a more
cheerful appearance. I took down the portrait of
the first Mrs. Fleming from its garret corner, and
hung it over the mantle in the parlor. I reframed
the beautiful landscape, and it adorned a little
room opening from ihe back parlor, which had
been used as a spare bed-room, which I converted
into a mi nature library. I went with the children
into the fields to hunt for early may flowers, with
which to fill the vases and make the rooms bright
and fragrant.
May took her first music lesson, and was already
promising to sing “Let ns love one another,” 0:1
Christmas day, at which lime her father would be
at home. Ellen had so far descended from her
cold heights of reserve to ask me to learn her cray
on drawing, and I was astonished at the artist
talent she already exhibited.
One morning, when 1 had been about a fort
night with them, Jane came to the breakfast table
in her travelling dress. We were all sui prised—I I
most of all, for I had hoped the happiness of the
children would win her kindness also; but I was
mistaken. “Where are yon going, aunty?” asked
May, her blue eyes expanding with astonishment.
Miss Jane deigned no answer, but ate her break
fast iu unbroken silence, then turning to me, an
nounced her decision.
“Mrs. Fleming, you cannot expect me to stay
here content, when I see you daily undoing witball
your might what I have been laboriug so hard to
accomplish. Those girls were growing np, in my
care, discreet, sober, and reasonable. I shut out
the vanities and follies of the world from their
knowledge. 1 reared them in prudence aud sober
ness. But Arthur Fleming must bring a strange
wife here, w ho, in two short weeks, could by her
wily softness of manner, win their foolish young
hearts away from their tried friend, and fill their
heads with vanity. I will not stay where my teach
ings are objects of contempt. I leave you to your
painting and playing, your singing and boquet
making. I am not penniless, as you probably sup
pose. I have still a home to go to, now that I am
driven thanklessly from this one.”
My eyes filled with tears at these scornful
words. The children looked wonderiugly at me
and at her.
“Don't go, aunty!” Mother doesn't want
you to go,” whispered May, the sweet little peace
maker.
“I don't know who drives you from here!” said
Ellen sarcastically.
•‘Jane* I wish yon to stay with us," I said. “It
is right that I, Captain Fleming's wife, should be a
mother to his children, and take their care and
education into my own hands. I mean 10 make
them h ippy in their home, in their studies and to
fit them for good and useful lives. Y’ou can help
me in this work, aud I will be your friend. Will
you stay, Jane?
“No, Mrs Fleming. I will not stay where 1 am
a mere cipher. But. children, I do not desert you.
If you are ever fatherless, or in trouble, I will
come to you, and you shall have your home with
me again.”
The stage coach, which Jan ■ had secretly order
ed to call tor her, now rattled up to the door, and
she took her seat in it. She gave a nod of freez
ing dignity to me, an4 a farewell of eoaipassionate
affection to the children,and then the coach drove
away.
I was alone with home, children and peace.
CHAPTER III.
Six month passed rapidly, and how pleasantly
my vivid recollections of them testify. As the
village school taught but little, and I was fully
competent to insruct the children myself, I spent
three, hours of every morning in study with them,
[wo afternoons in a week 1 devoted to May’s
music and Ellen’s drawng; on the other afternoons
they were tree to practice at home, or to visit
their village friends, and receive visits in return.—
Our evenings were spent in reading, and in the
three months of that Summer they gained more
intelligence then in years before. Their interest
in knowledge was aroused, aud whatever they
read was made a subject of free and cheerful con
versation, thus fixing important facts in their
memories, and training their ijiinds to habits ot
active thought. Ellen adorned the walls of our
sitting room and little library with several very
fine crayon pictures, and May added to our even
ing readings the charm of her sweet singing.
At Christmas time we expected Captain Flem
ing. With what a glad pride I looked upon my
happy group, and thought of the gratitude he
would fee!, when lie saw their improvement, and
witnessed their aff’etion for myself. I looked for
ward with a beating heart to the meeting.
It was a fortnight before Christmas, and we
were already deeply engaged in preparation tor
the raei ry season. Green broughs, with which to
decorate the rooms, were b nig made into festoons
and garlands, and, in a sly corner, the Christmas
tree was waiting its hour of triumph. Ellen was
hurrying to finish a picture of Santa Claus to hang
over the Christmas tree; and May was practising
incessantly, “Let us love one another,-’ at the
pianoforte; while little Harry entered with even
greater zea!;il possible, into the preparations for the
festivities.
It was afternoon, and Ellen and I had b-“cn dis
cussing the propriety of inviting some friends to
enjoy our Christmas Eve with us. We were now
in daily expectation of Captain Fleming, and every
sound of carriage w heels made us rush to the win
dow.
“Father is come!” cried Ellen, as the sound of
wheels, instead of passing, ceased at our door,
and we simultaneously sprang up and ran to the
window. There, indeed, stood the expected coach
but who was that old lady, with a green bandbox
held tightly in her arms, now bounding out of the
coach door, sending sharp glances up at the w in
dows while the coachman took down her
trunk?
“It is aunt Jane!” said Ellen, with a loud sigh
of disappointment, and she looked into my face in
quiringly.
‘•It is mo bad!” said May, bait’ crying, “for her
to come and spoil all just as we were to have such a
merry Christmas.”
“ Well, meet her kindly and give her a Wellcome,”
I said, and by that time the hall door had opened,
aud Jane Fleming stood in the midst ot us, receiv-
ing our greetings with a kind of grim smile. The
girls divested her of all her many shawls and
cloaks and furs and Harry drew a chair for her
close to the fire.
As she warmod her feet at the grate, she looked
around her with a singular expression of pity
mixed with triumph.
“I have kept my promise, chrildren,” she said “I
told you if anything happened. I would come to
you.”
I started from my seat, and a shudder of terrible
forebodings passed through me, as I remembered
the promise to which she referred.
,.Jane! Jane Fleming, what do you meac?”<
cried.
She wiped the cornerofher eyes with the hand
kerchief. Then she said—
“Ah! It is as 1 though. You see that I, living
on the seashore as I do get news some days iu
advance of yon. I said to myself when I herd it
that it w ould be printed inyour weekly paper, and
you would not get it betoro to-moirow. So 1
thought 1 had better step into the stage and ride
down to prepare you minds. Poor children! Poor
Children!"
What is iff" said Ellen, *"»!>*»* ^
wrist with a kind of nervous fierceness.
This supense was growing intolerable.—Jan#
fixed her eyes steadily on Ellen’s conntenace and
answered slowly—
“Last week, in the great storm, the May Fletr*
ing was wreck!”
A low cry escaped May’s lips.
“Jane!” I gasped, “my husband—where is he?”
She looked at me composedly.
“The May Fleming was wrecked and sunk.
Save the mate and one sailor, who floated two days
on a broken raft every soul was lost!"*
I could utter neither cry nor moan. I only look*
ed into the face of my children, who gathered ahont
me, indulging their wild sorrow in pitiful cries.
Ellen only, afters Uriel time, seemed to compreh
end my bew ildering anguish. She put her young
strong'arm about me, and led me, unresisting, to
my chamber, there, watched by her alone, I lay
silent and morionless.
But my brain was busy. “Is it to this, an un
timely death,” I thought, “that all I love are fared
to come? My heart was wrapt in my beautiful
Henry, and he laid down to die in ihe glory of his
youth. My love rose ont of his grave and gather
ed itself, strourig as life, about n:y husband; and
now, iu so little while he is gone also. M"as it for
this that I gave my mind, my heart, my soul,
to his children, only that they should look up to me
with their pitiful faces, and cry, ‘we are orphans?’
Where was he, when we, his wife and children,
were making Christmas garlands? YVe were sing
ing and weaving the holly and cedar by the warm
firelight, while he, now struggling, now failing
and sinking, was smothered in the horrible
waves !”
Such thoughts as these filled my brain with
ceasless horror and: all day I lay s? one benumb
ed. But suddenly as it grew dark, and Ellen
brought *4 lamp into my chamber, I was struck by
her settled expression of woe. I had forgotten
that I w as not the only sufferer. That thought
gave me strength. I rose, took her by the laud,
and went down to the other children. I gathered
them about me. and we all wept together. Then
and not till then, did I feel that I could speak to
them of comfort.
The next morning our paper came, and its long
account of the wreck confirmed the sad tidings.
Dais passed—sowlv, tearfully. I was beginning
to realize that we, of late such a joyful group, were
now “the widow and the fatherless.”
It was evening, and we nil set in the little library.
The door ot the parlor behind us was ajar, but there
was no light in there: only one lamp bunted on the
pianoforte, which had been moved into the little
room.
Harry lay in my arms asieep, bis soft curls fal
ling over his forehead, and halt veiling his fresh,
fair face. Ellen and May, one on each side of mo
set at work on mourning; Jane, too.jin the corner
was sew ing black thibet. How different our labor
from that with which we had expected to usher in
the Christmas Eve.
By and by, Ellen looked up with an anxious ex
pression.
“Mother, are wc poor?” she said.
I was glad that I could ntiswer in the nega
tive.
But,” I added, “we know not how soon we may
be. This great misfortune has taught us nothing
is sure. YVe must not lean idly on what we
possess, but prepare ourselves for labor, if need be.
To-morrow, 1 wish you all to begin again your
studies.”
Jane dropped her needle and thread.
“I thought it was understood that the children
should go home with me,” she said. "Perhaps
you think I am poor and helpless; but you nro
mistaken. On the contrary, I am probably bet
ter able than you to take care of the children.”
This announcement startled me; hut there was
no need. May threw her arms aronnd ray net k
and whispered. “I will not leave you mother.”
while Ellen, her fine eyes glowing with excitement,
answered.quietly and firmly—
“Our mother 1ms the Lest claim on its. Aunt
Jane, and until she sends us, we will never leave
her YVe have n-ver been so happy as in this past
half year. We love her better than all other friends,
and now that our father is gone we will not leave
her alone.”
My heart thrilled with gratitude, that I could
not utter. I could only give my noble Ellen a look
of thankfulness, and say—
“I will be as faithful to you as you have been to
me Ellen.”
“Hush!” said May, startling from her seat.—
“YVhat was that sound?” She went to the window
and looked out. “It was only the wind,” she ad
ded, and sat down by me again.
Jane shot indignant glances at the child
ren.
“I little thought, when I came hero to work
and wear myself for you, that you would so soon
desert me fur a stranger.”
“Aunt Jane.” said Ellen, quickly, “remember it
is our mother of whom you sp-ak—our second
mother to whom we owe so much.”
Miss Fleming was evidently annnoyed, but was
silent.
“ I do hear a footstep,” said May, and again
she peeped from the window, but all was dark and
silent.
My heart ached with weary dissension, and I
made a last attempt at peace.
“Sister Jane—you shake your head, but you
were his sister, and must, therefore, be mine—for
his sake I forgive you the many attempts you
have made to turn my children’s hearts against
me, but for ever after let there be silence on fiiis
theme. I am no stranger in this house, hut hold
a motii-r’s place to the children my beloved hus
band left in my care. For them henceforih, and
for 'hem ouly. I shall live and labor. I have thus
far tried to do them good, and they themselves itear
witness to my success. Trust them to me. and
let there be no more harshness between us—for his
sake.”
Jane Fleming burst into tears. She wept for
a few mom-mis, and her heart was softened.
“Agues, forgive me!” she said, to my astonish
ment and joy. You think me heartless, but, in
deed, I am not, though I have been harsh. It was
my love for my brother and his children that made
me wickedly j-alous of you. But I am now a
mourner with you aud them. For his sake, forgive
me.”
There was a moment of silent, pleased surprise
and then I clasp id her hand warmly, and called
her “sister.” Eden gravely stooped down and
kissed her, and little May, rej >iced, sprang to the
pianoforte, and sang with her whole heart, “Let us
love one another.”
As she ceased and turned her smiling face to
ward me. there was a sound behind, a quick foot
step toward the hall, the door was fiung open,
and—
Had one risen from the dead?
“My wife, iny children, iny blessed Agnes!” said
Captain Fleming, his voice hoarse with emotion,
and before we could utter a word of welcome or
surprise, we were all clasped in his strong, living
arms. The rapture of that hour who could seek to
portray?
“Forgive me. Agn**s, for playing the listener.”
he said. “It >va.s not premeditated, but as I came
in I heard your voices, and could not but pause a
moment before surprising you. How can I ever
thank you, how repay you for your love to my
children and me?”
Those words and many more fell from his lips,
as he clasped me again with warm affection. I
was repaid for all my labor, all my sorrow.
Then following questions, explanations, words
of joy and welcome. His good ship, indeed, had
been'lost in the fearful storm, but tb« account of
the loss of the men had been exaggerated in the
excitom nt of the news. Many were lost, but not
all. There were other homes of mourning made
glad that night as well as mine.
And what a merry, joyful Christmas we had.
How the Christmas tree sparkled under its mai y
tapers, loaded not only with the gifts of the child
ren to each other, but with more costly preseuisto
me and to them from their delighted father! How
proudly did Ellen lead her father to the pictures
her industry had wrought, aud say, in answer to
his surprise, “Mother taught me!” How sweetly
did little May sing her favorite song, and throwing
her arms about her smiling father’s neck say also,
“Mother taught me?”
Very sacred, and full of peculiar trials, is the
position of the s»ccond wife, when the children of
the buried mother claim her care and love; but
if, with a true heart and zeal, she euters into the
work before her, rich is her reward and its pleasures
endure forever
—*w
Taking Legal adder.—It once happened
in an important suit in C countj’,
Vermont, that the plaintiff's original counsel
51 , an able lawyer, had, after a time,
abandoned his client, and accepted a
retainer on the other side. Of course the
plaintiff employed another attorney, who,
when the causifcext eauie on for trial, com
plained to the^urt of “the opposite coun
sel,” accused him of unprofessional prac
tice,” in abandoning his client and espou
sing the side of the defendant—and. in
short, came down upon him “like a thou
sand of brick” 51 admitted the charge,
but contended that the plaintiff had found
fault with his manner of conducting the
case, “whereupon.” continued the attorney,
“I told him I would have no more to do
with him or his suit—but he might go to
b—11 for a lawyer (where many an one
could be foundjand I find, may it please
the court, he has taken up with my advice!”
The court and spectators were convulsed
with laughter, and the case went on with
out any further personalities.
The next Congress will probably admit
three new States into the Union, viz; Min
nesota, Kansas and Nebraska, and ^ pass
bills for the organization of four new 1 evri-
tories, viz: Nevada, Dacotah, Anzonia
and Neosho. In ten years the Union will
probable be composed of fifty independent,
sovereign States. The map-makers can
hardly keep pace with the progresa of th$
country.
t 4
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