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For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
THE RESCUED YOUTH.
■ from TIIE GERMAN OF HERDER.
find a puro and unpolluted soul,
-a high prize—but higher far it is
’o rescue and to save the noblest one,
1 hat seems to human minds already lost.
►t. John, returning to the rocky wastes
l)f Patmos’ Ide y was ever, as is wont,
■’he shepherd of his flock. He gave to them
l\ r atchinen, attentive to the inner man.
km it l the crowd, he saw a fair young man—
Frolicsome, joyouslicalth . beamed in his gla’ cc,
’Ruined his sac—and, from his sparkling eye”,
•4>>k<* out the loving, full and ardent soul.
‘This Youth,” earnest he spako’unto h : s Priest,
Take in thy charge ; aud, with this trust in
h thee,
■I hold thee bound for him—and, Christ the judge,
The < liurch is witness between me and thee.”
The l’ilest received the Youth, and brought him
up,
Aud soon he saw the fairest f.ults within
lli> bosom glow—and, with confiding trust.
Relaxed o’er him his holy, watchful cure.
And freedom was unto the Youth a snare ;
For, borne away by sweetly flattering words,
1 1*- idle grew —a prey to wanton joys—
To all the of deceitful art—
Then to the charms of power—and soon
lAronud a troop of friends he drew, and fled
To forests dark, and reigned a Kobbcr-chief.
■Wh n John unto his Isle returned again,
■h irst question to his shrinking Priest he put,
■ Was, “Where’s my son 1” “lie's lost and
dead,” replied
■ The oVI grey headed man, and dropped his eyes
I When! how!” “ Unto his God forever dead,
I Aud now, with tears I say, a Robber-chief.”
From thee this young man’s soul,*’ said holy
John,
|“At throne of God I’ll claim. But where is
he 1”
I “On yonder mountain-chain.” “See him I
must.”
I The Saint, approaching to the forest drear,
Was prisoner made, just as he even wished.
“ Lead me,” he calmly said, “ unto your head I”
fTc stept before them—and the changed Youth
Trembled, for well he knew that holy look
I Could not be borne: he turned. “Fly not, O,
Youth!
Fly not, O, Son! Your aged, feeble sire,
And weaponless. 1 have devoted thee
Unto my Master —must for thee account—
Aud oh! how joyfully, if such thy will,
•Give hero my life for thee ! Thee have I pledged,
With my whole soul, unto my Maker, God.”
Weeping, the young man cast his arms around
The grey-haired man—covered his tearful face,
Silcrtand stiff—then gushed, in lion of words,
FortWrom his eyes a stream of bitter teal’s.
Wars passed, and still they undivided lived,
All to each other —and, n the fair Young Man,
John found a pure and unpolluted soul:
Vow say, what was't which they perceived—
The heart of Youth, and knew, and inly healed —
And found when lost, and sav and foreveimore 1
The faith of Holy John—deep trust in God—
And love, rndying love, for fellow-mat).”
For Richards’ Weekly Gazette.
THINK OF THEE!”
Tp'rk of tlico ! oh! may I never
Breathe Love’s holy vows again,
If forgetful of thee ever,
1 should give that bosom pain.
IV ik of thee ! there is no hot—,
Or bright or sorrowful it be,
In Which uffcctiou’s gentle power
lucitos not hope, and thought of thee.
Think of tliec ! oh! what were life—
Its dark and changing scenes—to me.
If in its wild and heartless strife,
1 could not fond'y th’ ‘k of thee.
1 hink of thee ! oh! yes, forever
W*ll I think and dream of thee ;
And tell me, dearest, wilt thou never
Breathe a prayer of love for me 1
P. H. H.
i -
For Richurds’ Weekly Gazelle.
LINES
Addressed to ayAi’ng Friend, on leaving School,
Written for her Album, at her request.
lady, soon wilt thou leave those halls of learning;
* ‘ll! take with thee, for thought, this parting les
son :
Beneath yon cold, sepulchral marble, where
I he willow hangs its drooping head, there lies
“lie in the bloom of youth, and full of promise.
* s 'hc was the young companion of thy tasks —
• s hared with thee all thy sports.—Pause here n
moment:
I‘ rotn that fresh tomb, bedewed with Friendship s
tearc,
’dethinkK a gentle voice calls thee to —pause —
To think npon that solemn hour, when t'cath
Summons both young and old< perchance to tlice
hike as,it came to bar, ill Youth's bright morn—
liven so may he thy doom. Oh! liocd that voice ;
I rom Him seek refuge, who alone can save.
‘'ay. seek, at onoa, llis face—He calls thee to
Him. E. H.
J ‘hmitrlmi, Mity, 18-10.
For Richards’ Weekly Guzetto.
EXHORTATION.
INSCRIBED TO A YOUNG FRIEND
BY C. L. WHELER.
Wishing—wishing—thus, day by day,
Thou triflost all thy life away ;
Wishing thou wert but groat as he,*
Whose name's a nation’s history ;
Or he,f whose song a kindling ago
Lntranced with soft, poetic rage.
Wished they, perchance, when they was young,
For greater fame than Homer sung;
But not like thine were all their days
Past in dull Indecision's maze.
Theirs, like every noble soul,
Marked, at first, the beck’ning goal;
Then, step by step, they upward clomb,
Until they reach'd Fame's dazzling dome.
Never by idle longings came
The hero’s wreath—the poet’s fame :
Fame, alone, bestows the palm
To giant mind and stalwart arm !
If thou'd't be great, no longer dream,
Nor bask thyself in Pleasure’s beam :
Up and onward ! nor trials heed.
Though soic they progress thy impede.
Made by toil and trial is each name,
That brightly shines in scrolls of Fame:
All who reap Time's noblest spoil,
Must win the prize by endless toil.
Fix upon some glorious end,
Then calmly, firmly, onward bend;
Nor loiter with a watch less eye,
Lest sweet Success shall pass you by :
And if, perchance, (hy cheek may pule,
Still on ! —“ there’s no such word as fail !*’
* Bonaparte. 1 Byron. Allusion is made to a con
versation.
For Rickards’ Weekly Gazette.
LIZZIE NORWOOD.
BY ALECK.
CHAPTER ONE.
“ Slit- was a form of life anil light,
That “Oca became a part of fight;
Anil rose, where’er i turned my eye,
The morning star of memory.”—Byron.
Harry Bradford resided in one of the
most beautiful little towns in the Southern
country, lie was the son of poor parents,
and inherited nothing at their death but a
strong arm and a stout heart. He knew
that he was poor, and that he must win his
way 1o fortune and influence by applica
tion and perseverance. At the age of six
teen, he lost his only surviving parent—
his mother. Until her death, he had con
tinued at school, and, by close attention to
his studies, had acquired a good common
school education. A short time after her
death, he hail entered a Printing-Office, in
his native town —where, by his industrious
habits, good disposition, and correct deport
ment, he had won the esteem and confi
dence of his employer, insomuch that, in a
few years, he became foreman of the of
fice.
Nor was his mind, in the meantime, in
active. Numerous articles from his pen
appeared in the magazines and newspa
pers, evincing talent of no common order.
Many were anxious to know who it was
that wielded so powerful a pen, under an
assumed name; but, as Harry’s name nev
er appeared with his articles, their author
ship and his literary merit remained un
known, save to a favored few.
But ‘‘a change came o’er the spirit of
his dream.” He was in love. He had
seen Lizzie Norwood often on the street,
but only thought of her as a laughing,
bright-eyed girl of eighteen—until a few
nights before our story opens, when he met
her at the house of a friend. A few hour's
conversation with her convinced him that
she was a girl of no ordinary merit. And,
indeed, she was all that he thought her to
be. We will not attempt a description of
her person, for we should fail to do her
justice. Suffice it to say, that she was a
beautiful little creature, possessed of a good
and well-cultivated mind. No ex pense had
been spared, by her parents, in giving her
an accomplished education. In conversa
tion, to use the words of Capt. Cuttle, she
“ was surpassed by few, and equalled by
none.” We need not wonder, then, that
Harry lost his heart, “at first acquaiu-
I lance”
The day after, his proof wns very bad.
“Doublets” and “outs” presented them
selves in rapid succession. His fellow
workmen had to repeat their questions
twice, and often thrice, before they were
answered. Poor Harry was decidedly
“ bad off.” He was in love; that was a
conclusion which forced itself upon his
mind. But how was he to act? How
could he expect the rich and beautiful Liz
zie Norwood to notice him—a poor prin
ter ? For her father was one of the vil
lage aristocracy, and prided himself upon
his family, albeit his grandfather was an
honest shoe-maker. How could he hope
that she would notice him, when there
were wealthy young men addressing her ?
These thoughts, for a time, presented them
selves, and he knew not what to do.
“ There’s one thing very certain,” solilo
quised lie, “that lam in love. There’s a
kind of an ‘all-overish’ feeling about me,
that I knew nothing about until I saw Liz
zie, last night, and, by George, I must see
her again, if it kills me. But there’s the
old man—he's as proud as Lucifer; and I
shouldn’t he at all surprised, if he wanted
to cane me, if he was to catch me at his
house, and knew I went there to see his ‘
daughter. But 1 the course of true love
never did run smooth and 111 go to see !
her, to-night, if the old gentleman meets me j
at the door, and orders me off.”
He went, and, from the good humor lie
manifested, on his return, we feel war
ranted in saying that he was kindly re
ceived. At least, his visits became so fre
quent, afterwards, as to attract the atten
tion of one of his friends, who said to him,
one morning:
“Harry, you must he quite interested in
Miss Norwood, as I see you visit her pret
ty often, lately.”
“Jim, my dear fellow, can you keep a
secret ?” asked Harry.
“Can I? Os course I can, my boy.
and, if I can't, I’ll do like the Hibernian,
and tell it to somebody that can.”
“Pshaw, Jim, I don’t feel like joking,
this morning. Talk seriously: shall 1
make a ‘confident’ of you ?”
“ Ah, ha! some love-scrape, eh ? Well,
Harry, 1 make it a rule to have nothing to
do with these affairs, but, as it's you, why-,
old fellow, I'll keep your secret. Drive
ahead.”
“Well, Jim, in the first place, I'm in
love, and with Miss Norwood.”
“That’s no secret; 1 have known that
for some time,” said the wag: “give us
‘the second place,’ now.”
“I intend, to-night,” continued Harry,
“to bring matters to a close. 1 have been
visiting her for three weeks, and she must
have made up her mind, whether or not
she likes me.”
“Then, you intend to pop the ques
tion ?”
“Yes, and this very night.”
“Take care, Harry, you may get ‘hoist
ed.’ There's no knowing how to take
these girls. At the very time they look
handsomest, they may be plotting the down
fall of some poor ‘ greenie’ like you or I.
I pursue the safest course.”
“ What is that, Jim ?”
“By having nothing to do with them.
But I promised to meet a friend at six, and
it's about that, now; so, bon soir, mon
cher anie
CHAPTKR TWO.
“ Thou, thou hast metamorphosed me ;
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time.”
[SHAKSPKARE. j
“ Oh, that a dream, so sweet-, so long enjoyed,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroyed.”— Moore, j
After leaving his friend, Harry went
immediately to his room. Here he sat
long, in a deep study. He was unable to ‘
determine what to do. The allair must be
brought to a denouiment , that was certain,
as he could bear the suspense of uncertain
ty no longer. He could not muster suffi
cient courage to tell her his feelings, in
propria persona , so he at length determined
to do so, par billet.
A sheet of note-paper was obtained,
and, after sundry trials, he succeeded in
writing a letter, which suited him. He
told her that he was poor, but that, in a
free country, poverty was no crime. It
was a long letter, and in Harry’s best style,
and was calculated to make a decided im
pression, even if none hail been made be
fore
Early next morning, before the arrival
of the first mail, the letter was placed in
the Post-office. Six long hours would
pass before he could receive an answer, as
he expected one when the second mail was
1 opened, at noon. How long it seemed to
him! He was unable to centre his mind
on any one thing, and did nothing hut
walk about the office and make mistakes,
lie attempted to “make up a form,” and
pul the marriages under the head of “ Im
portant Ncv's," —the last speech in Con-
gress was denominated “ Poetry,” —and
the notice of a “ Political Barbecue ” was
placed in the “ Chapter of Accidents .” At
these faux pas the editor looked grave
the ‘boys’ tittered, and Harry blushed.
At length, the hour of twelve drew near,
and Harry proceeded, with a faltering step
and palpitating heart, to the Post-office.
An unusually large mail had arrived, and
the office was not opened. How lie felt,
while waiting at the office, we shall not at
tempt to say. Those who have been simi
larly situated, will know; and thise who
have not, will never know, until expe
rience teaches them. When the ofice was
opened, he received the letter he wished
for, enclosed in a beautiful envelope, and
addressed, by a lady’s hand, to Mr. Henry
Bradford. With a trembling h-avt, he
hastened to his room, determined that no
one should witness his success o; disap
pointment. In his room, he broke .lie seal
and read:
“ Miss Norwood regrets that Mr. Brad
ford should have construed her friendship
into love, and should have proceeded so far
upon that misconstruction. If it were pos
sible for her to entertain for lnm a feeling
of love, a proper regard for her family and
standing in society would prevent her from
marrying one so far beneath her in both.
“ Tuesday Morning.”
“Decidedlycool, by thunder!” exclaimed
Harry, as the note dropped from his hands,
and lie sank into a chair. For several
minutes, he appeared to be in deep mental
agony, but, recovering himself, lie rose and
said:
“So far beneath her! All! she knows
me not. I have loved her as no other will
ever do. Ten minutes since, I would have
died for her, but that note has wrought an
entire change. What was love, is now
deep and abiding hatred. She must have
known bow itoftplv and how ardently I
loved her : she shall know how danger
ously I hate her. From this moment, 1
shall only study how to he revenged. How
little did 1 think, while in her company,
and receiving such marked attention, that
1 should ever he treated thus by her! Ah!
I loved her as my very life. 1 could have
borne misfortune in its worst aspect, and
could have laughed the world to scorn, had
it turned against me, if she had loved me
in return. But,
“ The conflict is o’er, the stragglo is past—
-1 have looked, t have loved, 1 have worshipped
my last;
And now back to the world, and let fate do her
worst
Oil the heart that for thee such devotion l ath
nursed.
To thee its best feelings were trusted away,
And life bath hereafter not one to betray”—
“ Except a feeling of revenge. She shall
feel, though I am ‘so far beneath her,’
that my love is far better than my hate.
‘lf it were possible for her to entertain a
feeling of love’ for me! Tt would have
been better for her, if such a thing had
been possible, for then she never would
have felt the force of my hatred.”
From that time, Harry Bradford was a
changed man. He became morose and dis
contented. The true secret of the change
was known to hut one of his friends, who
was 100 high-minded ever to refer to it.
Ilis fellow-workmen saw that something
weighed on his mind, but, as lie shunned
conversation, they made no efforts to dis
cover what it was.
One morning, a few weeks after the re
ception of the note, he was not atthe office
at the usual hour. For a time, nothing
was thought of it; but, as the morning
wore away, and he came not, they became
alarmed lest something had happened.
One of their number was sent to his hoard
ing-house, to ascertain the cause of his de
lay. He returned, in a short time, with a
letter directed to “James Graham.” The
land-lady, at whose house Harry hoarded,
slated that he had left there the night be
fore, saying he woTifil be gone all night,
and probably next day. He requested that
the letter might be delivered to his friend,
to whom it was directed. In it, he stated
that, sot certain reasons, he thought it best i
to leave his native town —it might be, for
ever. He had preferred going in the way
he did, to prevent his friends from attempt
ing to dissuade him from his resolution.
All his debts had been settled, and he left
H a free man.
Sad were the hearts of the little circle,
who had gathered round, when the reading
of the letter was finished, for they all loved
Harry. Some of them had known him in
timately for years, and “to know him was
to love him .” but all of them had known
him sufficiently to become charmed with
his goodness and amiability.
CHAPTKR THREE
<• Von sha'l res, anon ; ‘tis a knavish piece of
work”— SuAK*rEARE.
“ With wild surprise.
As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,
A stupid moment motionless sbo stood.”
Thompson.
One bright May morning, about two
years after the occurrence of the scenes re
lated in our last chapter, the usually quiet
little village of H was thrown in
to an excitement by the arrival of young
Lieut. Elford, of theU. S. A., who expected
to spend several months with a friend in
the village. Ilis arrival was duly ascer
tained by some of the gossips, and. before
lie had been in the place a half day, every
young lady had been informed of it. Un
fortunately, they were like the ladies of too
many towns and villages of the United
Slates—very partial to brass-buttons and
gold-lace—and the young Lieutenant was
looked upon as a prize, which some of
them must gain before the summer was
over.
The windows of the different houses,
fronting on the principal street, were
thronged, during the day, by the /air se.v,
who were anxious to get a glimpse of the
young olficer. In the afternoon, he made
his appearance, much to their relief, in
company with his acquaintance, young
lawyer Selden. He was rather slightly,
but handsomely built, and his neat undress
uniform gave him quite a prepossessing ap
pearance. Add to this a fine intellectual
face, adorned with jet-black whiskers and
a slight moustachios, and you have him as
he appeared on the afternoon in question.
A ; crowd’ of young ladies had gathered
at one of the houses, who made him the
topic of conversation after he had passed.
Miss Arabella Acid thought him “very
handsome, but he put on too many airs for
her, entirely. - ’ Miss Priscilla Prim said
she liked him “tolerably well all except
them whiskers, and that nasty little mus
tach.'’ Miss Jemima Clark had “no use
lor ‘l,o. o Util* officers, who were
lit for nothing but to strut about for people
to look at.”
Elford, in the meantime, pursued his
walk, ignorant of the conversation which
he had called forth. About dusk, he re
turned to the hotel, ate his supper, and, as
the land-lady remarked, went to bed “just
like common folks.”
The next evening, as Miss Lizzie Nor
wood sat at her piano, practicing the last
piece of Music, she was startled by the
ringing of the door-bell. Ilefore she had
time to guess who it could be, Lewis Sel
den and Lieut. Elford were announced.
The usual introductions were passed, and
the Lieutenant, with his usual easy and
graceful manner, soon felt “ perfectly at
home.” The evening passed away very
pleasantly, and, when the hour for depar
ture arrived, he felt that it would he a
pleasure to fulfil his promise to repeat his
visits.
From this time, his visits to Lizzie be
came frequent, for he had really fallen in
love “at first sight.” It was soon report
ed all over the town that they were en
gaged, and some of those good people who
attend to every one’s business but their
own, went so far as to appoint the day'.
But how did matters really stand 1 Our
readers may ascertain, if they will pay par
ticular attention to the following conversa
tion, which occurred between Lizzie and
one of her particular friends :
“And so, Lizzie, you are really enga
ged I”
“Oh, yes, I have heard so from a good
many of my neighbors, who ought to
know.”
“But arc your neighbors correct"? Are
you not engaged to Lieut. Elford?”
“ If it will afford you the least gratifica
tion, l can tell you that I am. - ’
“ Why, dear Lizzie, you appear to be
ashamed to acknowledge it, and I am sure
I can’t sec why. Lieut. Elford is a prize
any girl might be proud of gaining.”
“Ob, no, I am not ashamed of the en
gagement ; I hope 1 shall he very happy.
My father is very anxious I should marry
him, and I feel disposed to please him,
even if 1 were not pleased myself. For
tunately, in this instance, I do both.”
Tlie house of Mr. Norwood was bril-,
liantly illuminated on the evening which ,
had been appointed for his daughter's mar
riage. All the elite of the village were j
assembled. No expense had been spared
in preparing for the occasion, and it prom-!
iscd to be the most splendid affair ever seen
j„ ii , Elford, during his stay in the
place, ha 1 become very popular, and all
thought Lizzie was going to do exceeding-;
ly well.
Everything was ready for the ceremony,
yet the bridegroom came not. Various
were the conjectures as to the cause of his
delay. Some thought he had repented of
his bargain, and had left the place; others,
! that he was si<-k Lizzie and ber friends
[ knew not what to do. The hour appoint
led for the marriage was eight: it was now
half-past eight, and he had not arrived.—
j Soon, however, a carriage, was heard ap
proaching, and F.lford, attended hy his
friend Selden, entered the house. He gave
as a reason for his delay, that his watch
had stopped, and he was ignorant of the
hour. The true reason will appear soon, i
In a few minutes, the two were on the ;
floor. Behold them: a handsomer pair
was never seen, even by the “ oldest in-1
habitant.” Harry has doffed his uniform,
and is dressed in a beautiful jet black suit. ‘
Lizzie is arrayed in spotless white, as pure i
as her own guileless heart. A single white i
rose-lmd adorns her hair, which falls in j
beautiful ringlets over her snowy neck.
All is ready. The minister asks, in a i
clear and distinct voice—
“ If any here know aught why this mar- 1
riage should not proceed, let them now,
make it known, or ever after hold their
peace.”
There was a silence of several moments, t
which was broken by one who was least j
expected to speak. Elford, dropping the
hand which was in his. stepped forward (
and said in a clear voice—
“l know why this marriage should not
proceed. Three years ago. I resided in j
this town, a poor hut honest printer. I of- i
sered myself to this lady as a lover, but 1
was spurned and mistreated 1 determined ;
on revenge. Willi the assistance of these,”
tearing from his head and face the wig and
false whiskers, “1 have found it, and am
revenged.”
Saying these words, Harry Bradford, for
it was him who had spoken, left the house,
before the assembly had recovered from
the surprise his words had occasioned.
Such a scene of confusion as then took
place, beggars description. Lizzie fainted,
old Norwood raved and swore, and the j
crowd broke up m a “*•*•
CHAPTER FOUR.
“ Change is written on Ibe tide.
On the forest's lenfy pride ;
On the streamlet glancing bright,
| On the jewelled crown of night:—
All, where’er the eye can rest,
•Show it legibly impressed.”
Her. J. 11. Clinch.
On a pleasant afternoon in October, sev
eral years after the occurrences related in
another chapter, as the last rays of the
setting sun gilded the tops of the trees and
houses, the stage coach drove up to the
hotel in'the village of H . There was
nothing very remarkable in this, as the
same coach drove up to the same hotel
daily, “ Sundays excepted,” and haJ done
so for months. Neither was there any
thing very strange in the appearance of
the man who alighted and gave orders for
the removal of his baggage. He was evi
dently a stranger, and a man who had seen
something of the world. We should guess
his age to be thirty-five, or thereabout.—
His slight but well-built figure, was clad in
a neatly-fitting sack coat, of plain black
cloth. His fashionably tied cravat, and
general appearance, denoted one who be
stowed considerable care on his dress; and
his handsome, good-humored face, shewed
him to be at peace with himself and all
the world beside. After seeing his bag
gage safely deposited, he look a scat at
the cheerful fire, which crackled and spar
kled on the hearth. But who isthis slian
ger ? and what has he to do with the sto
ry ? Be patient, my friend. Let us leave
him to a good night’s rest, and to-morrow
we shall be apt to find out,
The next morning, it was whispered
about that a member of Congress was in
town, and was at the “Washington Hall.”
Now, a number of the good people of
H had never seen a member of Con
gress. They had heard of them, had read
their long-winded speeches, but had never
seen one of the genus. Therefore, nearly
everybody was on tip-toe to see him.—
About ten o'clock, a considerable portion
of them were gratified with a sight of the
“ wonder,” as lie was seen walking tip the
principal street of the village, in company
of Judge Selden. Our readers have no
doubt guessed that the traveller and the M.
C. are the same: and if they will pay at
tention to their conversation, they will
make still further discoveries.
“Well, Lewis, everything has changed
since 1 left here, ten years ago. All my
old friends appear to have forgotten me: 1
sec very few familiar faces around me, and
I suppose l have altered in appearance, as
well as they have.”
“Yes, Harry, I hardly knew you. You
have grown stouter, and have otherwise
changed, since you were here.”
“ What has become of most of my old
friends, and what are they doing 1 Where
is my old flame, Miss Norwood ? -Mar
ried and doing well,’ doubtless:”
“No! she is still single,ndnppears"de
; termined to remain so. She has been a
dillerciit creature, ever since the night you
were revenged. She lias had many good
i offers, but lias refused them all, and.seem
, determined to die an old maid.”
1 “ Poor creature! I was sorry for her,
and hail half a mind to make it up with
; her that night. But the thought of how
she had treated me, flashed across my mind
and re-kindled my anger. She is the only
girl I ever loved or ever will love. Ilow
does she look, Lewis ?”
“Remarkably well. Old Time lias laid
his finger very lightly on her brow, and.
but for a more womanly demeanor, you
would think her sweet little Lizzie Nor
wood of eighteen, so little has she chang
ed.- ’
“By George, Lewis, 1 will call on her
to-night, and see if she will treat the Hon.
Henry Bradford, M. C. from Wisconsin, as
she did poor Harry Bradford, the printer.
But I must conceal my real name, as I
have a little plot in view. - ’
i “ Very well, we can manage all that. - ’
After supper, the two friends made the
contemplated visit. Judge Selden intro
duced his friend as the Hon. Mr. Jones.—*
After a very short but animated conversa
tion, Selden arose and remarked that he
had a client to attend to, who expected to
leave town very early next morning, and
as the business was of importance, he hop
ed Miss Norwood would excuse him for a
short time. This, dear reader, was hut to
allow Bradford to make himselPknown.
It was some time after they were left
alone, before he could muster up courage
to introduce the conversation which lay
nearest his heart. Strange that a man who
had chained the attention of the House of
Representatives by his matchless eloquence,
should be embarrassed by one lady--yet
such was the case. The truth was, that
he loved her still. He thought that his
; affection for her had ceased, but a few mo
| ments in her presence renewed it.
! “You will probably be suprised, Miss
Norwood,” he said, at length, “to know
that I have called on you to-night to make
; an apology.”
“I am truly so, sir,” replied Lizzie,
looking up in wonder, “for I do not know
that we ever met before this night. - ’
“We have met before, but under very’
different circumstances. The world now
calls me honorable , but I was once a prin
ter, in this, my native place. 1 loved you
as my very life. You, as you had a right
to do, refused to love me in return. It was
not that, however, which inflamed my an
ger, so much as the manner in which it
was done. But enough of that. I deter
mined to be revenged. You know the
manner in which I was revenged. My
visit here to-night is to beg you to pardon
me for the way I acted on that occasion.”
“ f have long wished, Mr. Bradford, for
this time to arrive: for, l am sure, if you
had known all, you would not have acted
as you did. 1 have always loved you r
and had your note reached me, a very dif
ferent answer would have been written.—
But, unfortunately, my father took it from
the post office. lie knew it to be from
a gentleman, by the writing, and opened
it. He wished me to marry a fortune, and
of course wished to put a slop to your vi
sits. He knew the best way to do it was
to write a note, as if from me, declining
your otfer. He did so, imitating my wri
ting, and you know the rest. I could nev
er account for the discontinuance of your
visits, and thought you had found some
one more worthy of your love. You may’
judge of my surprise, on the night I was
to be married to you as Lieut. Elford, for,
until that time, 1 was entirely ignorant of
your having addressed me.”
“Is it possible, then, that I have wrong
ed you sol” exclaimed Bradford. “And,
dear Lizzie, can you forgive me ?”
“We were both deceived, Harry, and
therefore nothing is to be forgiven. My
father regretted on his death-bed that he
had ever deceived me. and I am sure I
have long regretted it.”
“ Dear, dear Lizzie, we shall only be
happier, for having loved each other so
( long.”
And they were as happy a pair as were
ever wedded. If any of on r readers should
ever travel west, they will find none hap
pier in the State of Wisconsin, than the
Hon. Harry Bradford and his accomplish
ed wife.
Athens , On.
Riches cannot purchase mental end ele
ments. —Nobut, as the world goes, they
make a very excellant strcccdaneum, for
all that. In the false scales of popular
judgment, metal endowments will send your
“ mental endowments -- to I lie beam ii - owe
thing of a hurry.— Poston Post
