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1 THRU
Tho orrunt wave, by tenif'dil# driven/ , Ml ,.
May puck Home pH'iijigr Hud distant Si'Oi,' f
lluj when by t-lnst.i the clouds are riven, r
'Twill yearn to s«'<;k Its home once moi'e:
And matchless galf/i \ylll sweep the sea,
Hut none, ulus! will blow for me.
The rose Its sweetiieiis oft exhales,
When chill'd by winter's ptereini; ruin,
lint'neutti ttie kiss of austral Kales,
That rose will blush and bloom attain.
The florist mourns the bloomless tree,
But none, alas! will weep for me.
Beneath the touch of Junetlmo’s heat
The fever'd earth may glow and burn,
Hut kiss'd by dews of mornlhtt sweet,
The vernal freshness will retiifni
Hucli death of life all weep to see,
But none, alas! will mourn for me.
Waynerboro, 11a., —•!. H. R.
THE UNWILLING SACRIFICE.
“Arthur, you know that I love
you, hut I cannot disobey my la
ther,” said Gertrude Copeland.
“But go long as he lives, my ilar-
linjy,” replied tip* young man, “ho
will never consent to our marriage.
He told me so himself when I linked
for your hand.”
“It may seem hard now,” observed
Gertrude, “hut, depend upon it, it
will he best for us in the end.”
“I cannot see It !” exclaimed St.
Hedger. “I have a good |M>sit|on jn
the bank, and expect a hotter one,—
I can offer you a good home, and
would make you a kind and loving
husband.”
“I believe all that and more, Ar
thur, ” answered Gertrude, “hut I
cannot see into the future. My fa
ttier has the experience of fifty
years, and must be better able to
judgu than myself.”
“Suppotdng, then, be should
choose a husband for you after ids
own heart,” exclaimed St. Ledger,
“and say to you, 'Marry this Ilian,’
what then ?”
“1 should i>e very miserable,”
“But should you obey him V”
“I—I—1 am afraid l should,” hesi
tatingly replied the girl.
“Then you cannot love me, Ger
trude,” exclaimed Arthur bitterly,
“But I do, Arthur. Should I be
here now if I did not love you? And
have J not promised to become your
wife—when t cun do so without dis
obeying my futfier'u express com
mands ?”
“Oh, Gerty, Gerty!” cried St. Led
ger. “It is not your fault, I know,
hut you do not understand what
true love is. You would sacrifice fa
ther, home, friends and everything
for the one you loved.”
“I do not understand it,” replied
Gertrude with puzzled manner. “I
love you very dearly, and I do not
think anything would make me
happier than to become your wife—
with my father’s consent, of course.”
“Well, then, lot us make rt bur'
gain,” he said, “I will promise to
Wait forever, if need he, and not to
press you again to marry me against
your father’s consent, if you on your
part will promise that you will
marry no one else ?”
“J will never marry any one hut
you, Arthur,” sobbed Gertrude,
“unless.—”
“Unless what?” asked St. Ledger.
“What am I to dp jf pupa te}|s me
to marry somebody else f’
“Tell him that you love mo; tell
him that you will not foreswear
yourself; and, if need he, tell the
man whom he wishes to lie your
husband that you are engaged to
somebody else,” answered Arthur.—
“And if he lie worthy of the name of
U mail he will at once cease to per
secute you, and withdraw his atten
tions.”
Just then a voice proceeding from
the cottage ran through the still
night air:
“Gertrude! Gertrude! Come hero;
I want you.
When Gertrude entered the cot
tage she passed through the open
French window into her father’s
study.
Mr. Copeland was seated in a
large armchair, with a hook upon
his knee and an open letter in his
hand.
He was a tall, bony man of from
forty-eight to fifty, with a long, hard
visage, gray eyes, grizzled heard and
whiskers, and a clean shaven upper
lip.
Ho looked at his daughter for a
couple of minutes in silence, as
though waiting for her to speak.
“You called me, papa?” said Ger
trude at length.
“I did, my dear,” replied her father.
“Who were you talking to at the
gate ?”
“I was speaking to Arthur St.
Logoi',” answered Gertrude. “You
have not forbidden me to do so.”
“Have I not ? Then I do now,” re
turned Mr. Copeland. “Take that
chair,” he continued, after a slight
pause, as though to consider how to
upon tho conversation; “I have
something of Importance to say to
you.”
Gertrude seated herself and wait
ed for her father to begin.
“Kvor since the death of your
mother,” commenced Mr. Copeland,
“I have endeavored, my dear Ger
trude, to the best of my ability, to
supply her place toward you. You
have never, that I am aware of,
gone without anything that It was
In my power to provide for you. I
have never spoken crossly or un
kindly to you; have never even
blamed you, unless it were for your
own good; in fact, I have done my
utmost to he a loving and affection-
ate father toward you.”
“The time lias now* arrived, lii.V
dear child,” continued Mr. Copeland,
“when I want you to repay me for
that affec tion and devotion which 1
have lavished on you for the last fif
teen years by making a slight sacri
fice—if it can be termed such—in
order to save me from ruin and des
titution.”
“Anything, dear papa,” answered
Gertrude. “Anything that lies in
my power I will do for you.”
“That Is right, my child,” observed
bee father. “That is only what I
expected from you. The fact of the
matter is, we are ruined. I have
seen it coming for some time, hut
have hoped against hope that some
thing would happen to avert it. At
length the blow has fallen, and if I
have ten pounds in the world it is
as much as I possess.”
“Why have you not spoken before,
dear papa?” exclaimed Gertrude,
rising um she spoke. “I have the
greater lWt fit my lrt4 quarter’s
allowance up stairs, apd t!|eve)s iqy
jewelry, which must he worth some.-
thing. Take it all, papa; I shall
never want it. Let me go and fetch
it HOW,”
“Bit down again, )|iy clear,” re
pn
will conic up to town to-morrow.
“if you will telegraph to me, I
will engage rooms for you at the
Ltingham Hotel, and will be there
to moot you in the evening. •, .
“Believe me to remain, dear C‘, J
your obedient servant,
Samuel Thickicr.'.'
Without a word Gertrude handed
the precidtls epistle hack to her
father, and Hath her handkerchief
pressed to libr lips to restrain the
choking sobs that were ready to
burst forth; quitted the room.
“Humfl” Soliloquized the old man,
as he put the letter in his pocket.—
“It has gone off better than I thought
It would. Anyhow, 1 shall get the
money and she will get a rich hus
band.”
Early next morning, Gertrude,
pale and white, with a wild hopeless
look, but otherwise perfectly quiet,
accompanied her father to the sta
tion; and when Arthur St. Leger
arrived at his appointment, they
were on their way to their hotel.
I T jam their arrival they wove jm*
mediately sljpwq upatuty# to the
suite of rooms that hail been en
gaged for them.
On entering the sitting-room,Ger
trude beheld her future husband,
plied her father. “Of vvhrtt use i|o fin open window
you think your little articles of jiiw-
eJry would he? Why, they would
not cyan pay the year’s rent that is
overdue fop thfs cottage.”
“What can T do, then, papa?”
cried Gertrude. “How can I help
you ?”
“Have a little patience, my child,
and you shall hear,” answered Mr.
Copeland. “You understand that
something must he done, or else I
shall he east upon the world In my
old age, and probably have to finish
my few reitptfnjng days in a parish
union.”
“Do not talk like that, papa!" Pk-
claimed Gertrude, “Why, before
that should happen I would work
my fingers to the bone to keep you!”
“I am glad to say that will not he
required,” replied her father.—
“There is a very much easier way of
proving your love and gratitude for
lqe, and of providing me with an as
ylum for my declining years.”
“What is it, papa ?" Jnqqffpt] Ger.
trude. “Do not think that I will
shrink from it, however menial or
unpleasant it may seem.”
“Do you remember Mr. Tricket ?”
asked Mr Copeland by way of an
swer, “who was six weeks with us
six weeks lust Christmas?”
“That ugly, fat old man, who used
to make us laugh with his had gram
mar and misplaced h’s?” replied
(jevtnide,
‘•‘Do not speak of ||l;p lu tljut niftfi.
ner, my dear,” observed her father
gravely, for he is the only friend I
have left in the world!”
“Oh, papa!”
“it is true, Gertrude,” continued
Mr. Copeland. “For some weeks I
have been endeavoring to obtain as
sistance in every quarter, hut in
vain. People who are indebted to
pie, and whom I have assisted in
my time; have either turned u deaf
pgr to iny uppou!, or Have made a
paltry excuse. As a last resort, I
applied to Mr. Tricket, and lie lias
consented to liclf* me on condition.”
“Apd that is?” inquired Gertrude,
faintly, as her father did not con
tinue.
“That you will become his wife.”
“Oh, papa, papa! I cannot!—I
cannot!” wailed the poor girl. “Re-
member, I love another!”
“Then I am to he forced to end
my days in a workhouse. But, no,
I Will never come down to that!—
A loaded pistol, a sharp razor, or a
dose of opium shall obviate all ne
cessity of the parish taking care of
me, And I will take good care to
leave a memorandum behind that
the father had been driven to sui
cide by the ungrateful and unduti-
ful behavior of his only daughter.”
“Oh, papa, papa! do not talk in
that manner,” sobbed Oorlrude,—
“Better that the sin should fall on
me than on you; and if you contem
plate such an awful thing as that I
will consent to anything.”
“That’s all settled, then,” observed
the old man with a satisfied expres
sion of countenance; “and you will
be able to retire to rest with the
consciousness of having done your
duty.”
“I suppose—there will he—no
harm—in—in my seeing Arthur to
morrow?” said Gertrude, hesita
tingly.
“It will be better not, as you are
now another man’s uffinneed wife,”
answered her father. “Besides, wo
must leave here early in the morn
ing. Bead this letter and you will
understand our movements.”
And he gave Ids daughter the let
ter he had been holding in his hand.
it was written in memorandum
form and enclosed ip u blue envel
ope.
“From Samuel Tricket, General
Agent, Mincing Lane.
“Dioar Foreland:—I received
your favor of the thirteenth instant,
and shall he glad to let you have
the money you require on certain
conditions.
“When I was staying with you
last Christmas, l very much admi
red your daughter, and have been
thinking sincethat she would make
me an excellent wife,
“Ifshe will accept me as a hus
band, I shall he glad to lend you
tho five hundred pounds you re
quire.
He was recjinjng lu an arnhchulr,
while his boots rested on another.—
“Ah, Copeland,” he exclaimed,
holilingout his hand, without rising;
“so you have arrived at last, have
yp •/ Yim'vp hfiPii !<»!!!)'enough over
it. I thought that, maybe, you'd
been and gone anil missed the train,
or something of that sort,”
“We are a llttlo late, I believe,”
answered Copeland. “But it was
not our fault, you must blame the
railway company. Here is my
daughter, Gertrude, Mr. Tricket.—
Do you not remember her.”
“())t, yes, I remember her,” replied
Tricket, p}s|ng sjowly as he spoke,
and fixing hjspyea upon imp fjerqjnp.
“J hope yer wo)|,”
But Gertrude’s breast was too full
for speech, and she could only how.
The old man now approached her,
and taking her hand, observed.—
“Bo you’re going to he my wife, are
ye? Well, ye know,ye might have
made a worse bargain. I’m not
nine)} jo look at, hut Pm not a bad
sort of man In my way so long as
I’m treated properly. Ye needn’t
look scared. I ’spoct we shall get
on pretty well when we know one
another better. All you’ll have to
do is to do as I tell yer, and speak
the truth”
Then, turning to Mr. Copeland,
he handed him an envelope, saying
“Here’s the money, Copeland; and
I’ve got some good news for yer.—
The Nagasaki Gold -Mbdhg tVfijr
panv that you held so many shares
in, anil which you thought had ruin
ed you, is going up again. I’ll keep
an eye on it for you, and let you
know when to sell. And, now about
the wedding-day? When shall It
he?”
Mr. Copeland looked toward his
daughter; but she was too much
overcome with emotion to he able
to articulate.
.Bhe could scarcely stand, anil the
•ooip seemed going round and round
with her.
“Ilum — ha! — well,” he replied,
“suppose we say this day six
months?”
"What?” exclaimed Mr, Tricket,
derisively, “Why in six months we
may be all dead and buried!”
“Well, then let us say three
months?” suggested Mr. Copeland.
“No, no; that’s too long!” an
swered tin* other. “I’m too old to
waste time in courting and all that
nonsense, even if I could spare tlie
time, which I can’t. Let me see;
what's to=day? Thumhiy — yes;
Thursday will do. I shan't be very
busy; so we’ll say this day fort
night.”
“Oh, Mr. Tricket,” cried Copeland,
quite scandalized, “that is very short
notice!”
“Not a Lit,” answered Tricket.—
"Flout,V of time, because it isn’t as
though we’d never seen one another
before, Bo that's settled; and while
I think of it, you needn’t trouble
yourself about the—what d’ye call
it?—the outfit You know. I know
your hanking account isn’t very
flourishing, so I’ll order everything
that's wanted, And now J’ll he off,
I shall drop in to-morrow night, and
maybe if I’ve got time I’ll take ye
to the play. Good night!”
“Good night, Mr. Triekett,” re
plied Copeland.
The expectant bridegroom now
turned toward Gertrude.
Bhe was standing a short distance
behind her father,motionless and ex
pressionless.
“Good night, my dear,” said the
old man, advancing toward her.
“Give us a kiss before I go.”
Gertrude now scorned to sudden
ly awake, as though front a tranw*
Her eyes stared wildly at her
future husband, and a deep crimson
color suffused her cheeks.
Bhe thought of tho one whose arm
had been around her only a short
twenty-four hours previously.
Bhe compared the two men—the
one she hud lost and tin* one* she
had gained.
Arthur's young, healthy visage,
silky hair, anil honest, hazel orbs
and tills man's rough and bloated
countenance,coarse, wiry, gray hair,
ami small, stechcoloi'cil eyes.
Dc \vns Jti«t Id ijkiee Ills
firm lU'ouml her fi nest to tlfaw her
heard’to him, will'll Gertrude ut
tered a shriek, and sprang away.
“No, no; I cannot—I cannot!” she
cried. “Keep him away from me!”
And throwing herself upon the
couch, she buried her face in the
pillows.'
“NVlrnt is the meaning of tills non
sense, Gertrude?” exclaimed Mr.
Copeland, sternly. “Get up imme
diately; and permit your future hus
band to salute you.”
“Not yet—not yet!” mqnned Ger
trude. “Spare me to-night, for
mercy’s sake!”
“Bhe has not been very well late
ly,” observed Mr. Copeland, apolo
getically, turning to Tricket; “and
no doubt the railway journey lias
tired her.”
“Huinf! Perhaps it has,” ejacu
lated the old man, somewhat doubt
fully. “I hope she’ll get over it by
to-morrow. It’s like this, yer see.
I don’t mind a certain amount of
modesty in a girl—in fact, it’s a
good tiling. Good night all.”
And lie abruptly quoted thoiyiom
without further remark.
Mr. Copeland moved toward ids
daughter with the intention of read
ing her a lesson on the folly and
wickedness of struggling against
the inevitable, particularly when
the Inevitable included a husband
us wealthy as Mr. Tricket.
But her grief anil prostration were
so evident, that he allowed her to
retire to rest unreproved.
The following evening Mr. Tricket
(mil,hi rtppflvdintj to hi» jtvomise,
lie was loaded with small parcels,
while one of the waiters curried an
armful behind him.
As soon as the servant had quitted
the room the ulil man commenced
to unpack.
Lockets, rings, brooches, bracelets,
chains, and trinkets of every de
scription.
The 'able was speedily covered
with the costly presents that he hail
brought hni |||s jnvujy Iptppdpd,
“Now Pvc left tl;e host of the lot
for the last,” he exclaimed, taking
the paper oil* a handsome Russian
leather casket. This cost me a hun
dred and ninety-five pounds, and
well wortli the money, too.”
Approaching Gertrude he opened
the casket, and exposed n clpvntillht
little watch with a blue enameled
Lack, studded with pearls anil dia
monds.
Human nature is weak, and Ger
trude was only human.
The watch was such a beautiful
work of art that she could not re
sist taking it in her hand to exam
ine it more closely.
“And now, missy,” said Tricket,
his eyes gleaming with triumph, “1
think in return for tlmt I may fairly
plajtp a kjss,"
“1 am sure you deserve it,” ob
served Mr. Copeland, “for Gertrude
has been wanting a watch for a long
time, and that is one that any lady
might be proud of possessing.”
The old man was stooping down
to receive his expected reward,
when Gertrude sprang indignantly
to her feet. Flinging the casket
from her, she exclaimed, “Take
hack your watch, Mr. Tricket—take
hack all your presents! I will not
be bought and sold in this manner!
What do you think I am, that you
imagine my kisses can be pur
chased for a watch ?”
p'or a short time Tricket gazed at
her in silence, as she stood in all
her youthful beauty. Then with a
very peculiar expression on his fea
tures, lie remarked, “I don’t mean
to offend you, Miss Gertrude, and if
so lie as you don’t fancy kissing me
at present, why we’ll let it bide till
we’re married. It won’t be very
long to wait.”
Gertrude turned pale, but soemeil
to hesitate a" te what she should do,
Her father decided her, however.
“Gertrude,” he exclaimed In
a hard, harsh voice, “resume your
seat. We do not require any mock
heroics, so behave yourself, if you
please, or I shall have to do some,
thing that you will regret all your
life, D‘> you understand mo?"
Gertrude did understand only too
well, anil with a heavy sigh re
seated herself upon the couch,
“That reminds me,” said Tricket,
“I’ve got a box for tho theni-tur,
anil I’d forgotten all about U, If
you’ll go and dress yourself, Miss
Gertrude, I’ll order a carriage, and
we’ll he just in time.”
Gertrude would have much pre
ferred to have remained at home,
and “nurse her sorrow” in solitude;
hut a half-threatening half-appeal
ing look from her father deeldeil
her, and she left the room to attire
herself.
When she reappeared, the gen
tlemen were ready, and the hrougli-
ham waiting.
“You may as well put nn them
gold bracelet*, Miss Gertrude, and
that there diamond cross, too,” said
Tricket. “That ran into five hun
dred pounds, and I’ll lay there isn’t
a prettier one in the house to
night.”
“I would rather not, thank you,”
replied Gertrude coldly.
“Gertrude,” exclaimed her father,
ilia low voice,“for my sake.”
Another heai't-hreakiug sigh, and
the ornaments were ipljustod.
They were soon m the theatre,
and seated in tho box Mr. Tricket
had engaged.
. They weiH ! Jt)|aj;iii|. H !no«t eU'it •
lilg melodrti jiial but io# till that ohl'
HeroinesaW.fiotiitiig i'f the acting.
It plight jiist its well have been a
“Punch and study” show on the
stage.
Ti ickei filmic several remarks to
induct! her to enter into conversa
tion, hut she answered so at random
that lie gave it up and remained
silent.
Upon their return to the hotel,
Gertrude hastened to her own
apartment, and when her father
sent up to say that supper was
waiting, she replied Ly begging to
be excused, as she had a bad head
ache, nml had retired to rest.
“That’s cool,” exclaimed Mr.
Tricket upon the receipt of the
message. “Your daughter is cer
tainly a most peculiar young lady.”
“Bhe is not accustomed to late
hours, you see,” observed Copeland,
apologetically, “and no doubt she’s
tired, and—”
“Now, yon hold your tongue,”
cried Tricket; “you know very well
It’s nothing of the kind. The gal
don’t like me, and you know it.—
Bah! You can’t humbug me!”
“Really, I am sorry you should
think—”
“I don’t think—I’m sure of it,” in
terrupted Tricket. “But I’m not
going to cry ‘off’ for alj, that. I’ve
bought the gal, and I mean having
her, whether she likes it or not.—
Bame time, I don’t like being made
a fool of in this way; so, pVaps you
won’t see me in three or four days.
Still, T fiiay drop in| SO take cure,
and don’t be out. Good night.”
“Dear me,” exclaimed Mr. Cope
land to himself as soon as the door
was shut; “how very unpleasant it
is to have dealings with uneducated
persons.”
And he helped himself to tho re
mainder of the oysters, and emptied
the bottle of Chahlis.
The next six days were, compara
tively speaking, a time of happiness
to Geitruffe, Him emiid indulge in
per sorrow undisturbed, and was
not forced to endure the society of
the man site had promised to marry,
and towards whom she was begin
ning to entertain a feeling of perfect
abhorrence. Her father disturbed
her imt little, in fact, she seldom
saw him except at mealtimes,
On TliULiday evening a short
note arrived from Tricket.
“Dear Copeland:—I shall be
with you to-morrow, at about two
o’clock, to take your daughter to
the Zoological Gardens.
Bee that she is ready, as I don’t like
waiting. You need not come, as I
want some private talk with Miss
Gertrude. Yours, etc.,
“Samuel Tricket.”
“Now, it’s no good, putting that
face on,” said her father when lie
read the letter to Gertrude, “You’ll
have to go, and you’ll have to be
ready at two exactly. Bo remem
ber no sick headaches, or anything
of that kind, if you please.”
Gertrude was ready within ten
minutes of the appointed time, and
found Mr. Tricket waiting for her.
He seemed to have altered in his
manner since she had last seen him,
lie appeared graver and more care
ful of what ho said; did not make
any remarks upon her personal ap
pearance, and was almost polite as
he helped her into the carriage that
was waiting to convey them to tho
Regent’s Park,
N°t one word passed upon the
journey. Mr. Tricket seemed ab
sorbed in Lis own reflections, and
Gertrude was too unhappy to do
anything but contemplate her own
wretchedness.
At length they entered the gar
dens, and without attempting to
look at tho animals, Mr. Tricket led
the way to a secluded portion of
the grounds,
Where ho dfioovoml t\ seat suffi
ciently free, from observation,lie ex
claimed, ‘Now, Miss Gertrude, will
yer sit down, boons I have got some
thing to talk to yer about?’
As soon as they were seated, ho
continued: 'Now, I am a rough
sort of a man, and l never had any
edicatinn ’copt what I picked Up my
self) but, at tl\o same time, I ain’t a
fool. Gonsequoutiy, I could not
well help noticing that you do not
seem to like-me, <ds that true?’
‘It is true, Mr, Tricket,' replied
Gertrude,
‘And H also struck me, from the
way you went on tho ttrst night
you came to town with yer father,
that you did like somebody else.—
Was I right there, too?’
‘You were right,’ answered Ger
trude, in a low voice.
‘Now, what I want to know, is,
who is tills somebody else, uiul
where does ho live?’
Gertrude hesitated for a IVw mo,
ments, and then flushing up to her
forehead, replied in an almost In
audible voicet ‘His name Is Arthur
Hi, Leger, and he lives at Btoneiiam,
near our cottage.’
‘And, now, one more question,
and tell me true. Why; in the
name of goodness, if you loved this
young feller, did you come up to
town to marry me?’
‘Because my father threatened to
do away with himself If he did not
obtain the money you had prom-
sled him on condition of my con
senting to marry you,’ answered
our heroine iu a broken voice.
‘So you tigrced entirely to save
your father ?’ ,
‘I did wholely and solely for Hint
ivusen.’
“Wi'll, I’m gltttl .Vou’vo torii me the
truth)' 1 observed Tricket, slowly,
“because I took the trouble to go
down to Btoneiiam to find out if
there was anybody there you were
fonil of.”
“And did you see Arthur?” burst
almost unconsciously from Ger
trude’s lips. “Was he well ?”
“I did see him,” answered Tricket,
With a peculiar smile, “and we had a
long talk together. But before we
speak about that, I want to know
how we are going to settle this little
business.”
Gertrude did not reply, and lie
went on. “ Yer see, we’ve got to be
gin all over agen, for when I asked
yoirto marry me, I didn’t know you
eared for anybody else, so far as I
can see, I must give yer back yer
word, anil start afresh.”
‘But my father?’ said Gertrude.
‘Don’t you fret about him; I’ve
been looking after his business for
him, and he’s all rigid. Now the
question is this—will you marry
me, or will you stick to the other
feller? Don’t speak yet; hear wliat
I’ve got to say. I’ve bought a house
in Portland Place; it’s furnished in
the most expensive manner i>ossi-
ble. I’ve bought a set of diamonds
for you from fhe Countess of what’s
her name, which they tell me are
second only to the Queen’s. I’ve
bought the finest pair of horses in
London, and the prettiest pair of
ponies in England, and if you like
to marry me I’ll promise yer that
every wish you have that money
will gratify you shall he indulged
in. Now what do you say?’
‘Are you sure that my father is
safe as regards money matters ?’
‘On my word as a man, he is.’
‘Then, thanking you very kindly
fof the honor that you have done
me, Mr. Tricket, I beg to decline.’
And Gertrude looked handsomer
and happier than she had done for
weeks before,
‘There’s two of us, my gal, so take
your choice,’ cried the old man.—
And lfls eyes glistened strangely as
he spoke, ‘Pve got heaps of money
and the young iVller you want to
marry has nuuei is only a clerk.
Anil ‘spose he lost his berth, or the
hauk broke, where would you be
then ?’
‘I would rather be Arthur St.
Leger’s wife if he were a beggar,’
exclaimed Gertrude, the color
mounting to her cheeks, ‘than yours,
Mr. Tricket, if you were King of
England!’
‘Well, that’s a flattering tiling to
say to a man, and no mistake!’ ob
serve! Tricket, looking at her with
admiration, ‘and I should like to
have had yer for my \vih\ How
ever, perhaps it’s as well as it Is, for
my nefew will get a true and hon
est hride.*
‘Your nefew?’ cried Gertrude, in
amazement.
‘Yes. Didn’t I tell you that
Arthur St. Leger was my nefew ?*
answered Tricket; and a smile
beamed over his face that made
him quite good-looking. ‘Ah, I
must have forgotten it. “Never
mind, my gal,’ he continued, after
enjoying her confusion for a few
moments. ‘I shall not forget it
when yer married and If I can put
in a good word with your father, I
will. Anil now I think we’d better
be getting home.’
Whatever the arguments were
that he used with Mr. Copeland,
they were sufficiently powerful to
obtain that gentleman’s consent to
the marriage.
The wedding took place three
months later, Mr. Tricket giving
away tho bride, ami on their return
home they found that he had kepi
ills promise, for lie had purchased
and furnished for them one of the
prettiest little houses in Stonehani.
And when a few mouths later the
manager of the hank retired, and
Arthur received tho appointment,
he had again to thank ids uncle
Ham,
The last time he was ilcr,. n nt
Love Lodge—for so lie insisted
upon christening Arthi» ,.> s p ()UH0 _
the old man was nursing ont , G f the
babies.
SYMPTOMS OF A
TORPID LIVER.
I,on!iof Appetite, Howeis co'itive. r?j-
the Her.d, u (lull «.-ii.nation jn",;
I’part-, Pa:n uiv. ee tl,o
) lucie. lull ness After eat :ny, will, a iPi if
ill'alien tj exertion if bouy or ; I;
3 rrilabii t / oi tomij. r. Low spire . / .'
A Ioanns of bavins; in elect'd Rninc'dit,*
$'''. X')uttering in 1; ■;%
the eyes, Yullov.-;
earti'Bs .
Heart, Dots b?foi\.
Headuclio gcnemUy over the l iglit,
H. d>liiHsnoun, with fitful dreams', L'-’
colored Uriiic, and
COfiSTlPATJ^rL
TUTT'S rilXSnn- especially iHlrapfpd,
ia.cli citkt’f., one (Iimo i iH'Ci* Ktuiii a <•;, „
4.1 fci’linir n>» to ustoi.i^h the 1
TUt*y liicriLOU* thi* Appetite, an.i cn,... \
V.oily to “I'aWo ott f'louli. thus tlu* svsn-.
pmirUtiril. mol by th*dr Ton kv tot ion „ ,
liceulnr K1<mvU
35 iii-iay stN.j
d rts a iiannal color, acts IustantaiiouiLlv ri ,
)«/ Imitftrlhin. or keiit hy express on receipt oi
orriCK, :i» mritJMY kt\, m;\v vom
/ hr. Trrrs 511 XL* If. uf ValunM* InToroiftthin iu
V "
dec8’82by
junlG,’82.b-y.
How to Cure Consumption
The eivnl nu
horofilciUlisIrt
this dostmver-
the hmmm'r,ii
D “ml *“
crease, call v
“•
trumpet \ nice)
ttie Kcuius ntsi?
one tn tkni
menus fiiv tl’i'i
thriuieim at ul
power. Theeufej
has been ilisu
ered ;:ml is Mfij
In.tr tiiousamk
(ietiius has ].»
vented a detoi^
or; nature lie.:
luruished ti n
remedy. Ayj.V
yourself of it l
(fore it is too la;;
A sliL'ht eolilSj
liej/lected, all. !
term m ates id
ennstunptinji. To sfimrii ;iirainst this sup
and fatal destroyer tt-H-the only untidui;
Umisseus’Uoinpmir.l llonev of Tar.
Sir
Gotisscns&’iuum
HASHVILLE, TEHW.
For sale by \\\ F. Holleymnn.
junl6^2.b-y.
PLEASANT! SAIT! POSIT1VI
w GONQRRHeiGLEEK;
it I
Alsc I’revcut!! Cnnt»i*><>tt No loss o r fime
viUMiKe ot Diet Overnhelnunn #*" es, mini
Lduabtoetuvs unit imlnamdvd »’’’ , s factlon •
Agent wauled tu every city *- . t ' 0 . vu sou
wtuibyeuunaswimndu' ,. r iee. Addc
by i'Mwua* en tvueit> f u( 'price; ~ Addw
•ct Bent®? 'itUAHTa’ C
dec8’82»*'
The Buinter ]{e/ntbticon says:—
About two years ago, Jesse T. West-
broke, e.V the 28th district, Sumter
eour.ty, lost his dwelling by tire.—
He rebuilt a very pretty place, and
bail everything fixed up snug and
nice. Monday morning, two weeks
ago, the terrible cyclone swept
away everything he had, even to Ids
well. He went to Ills well for wa
ter,anil wns disappointed—there was
no well there. In the plaee where
the well was, a large pine tree
stood. It had licon taken up hy the
roots, anil driven, root down into
the well, filling it so completely that
it seemed to have grown there.
tiEAtdi!
and all Bm#us Complaints w relli'ralby n.k
WRICHT S INDIAN VEGETABLE P*L
tw\j VtgtUUc; Ho Grills;. Prte) 35:. AUDrutf.
Aprllt),'88.b-y.
c
Wtaki
Afr«U<
0W8VLYV
*1*4 s*cur« the
&kTi
a our lug dm ft«M of the ]
M* D.bUUjr. Impfttmtf, Or#
_ak*CM, tisaarrhwm *F»kllltlo Mil llm
JLffmtlaa* apmtallr iruataa cu kImUAj wlw
wllfc (lit am) »uri* miuadl,.. Call *>r wrlu Air LU) 0*1
rt 1 b> UuMa dcatrlnf UtaUmnl bjr md
■ fruM Ha,tar. akaal* (Hf Ikalr •**»
i-aa ta U>alr akraalafa. Ilbaalaln
ioTTH, 11 K. «* HI., «»■ Lo*k
tti'tuuinco evftu xiuuxv vkau*
jun.l(J,’82l>-y.
J ar FREE!
"reliable SELF-CUR
A fltvoi
A favorite pwacrlptlou of ono of l
Boat noted and aucCMaful aiivoiaUata In tliv l
(BOW retired) foi tlieuiiraaf.Vrrvowa JJrfetlti
kaaf Vaakawf, IVrahurmt amt Itrmil. s
Id plaiu saaleil euvalopayVaM*. lmigctiui van HI
Addrax OR. WARD A CO., Uuitieat. M«
jun lfi,’82D-y.
HOBBS Writaa:—
oronch trial of l
, I tWO PlOMUl
v that J have boon
- it lUi
Pub-
A. cotnbituUlon of fo
iojtiiie of iron, 1‘vtuvio
Mark and i'hotphotnuj
<1 palatable form. J '
JiJbllltiJ, l.o, t of Jiy*
tile, 1‘rontrullon of rt** 1
1‘owvro it to iiulhjmiS
bU.
HE V. J. L. TOWNEB,
At I
bonofltod b.
Industry, IU., aaya:—
"I consider i
a moot oxoalleut remedy ft
he debilitated vital forces.
where a Tonic U MOM*
nm w“a'
tumil IT TU DR. HARTER MEDIO Ilf S CO., 113 W. BA1U ST.. 8T. WC18.
jm)ll),'82.b-y.