Newspaper Page Text
COS AM EMIR BARTLETT-EDITOK.
22 VIZ XU <£><£&%%
IS PUBLISHED EVERY WEEK IN
COLUMBUS, GA. BY
C. E. BARTLETT &i It. FLATTER
at Three Dollars per annum if paid in advance
<or Four Dollars at the end of llie year. It is
expected that all application for subscription
from a distance will be accompanied *ilh the
money,
Advertisements will be inserted at reasonable
rates Sales of land and negroes, by adniinis
trators, executors or guardians, are required by
law to be held on the first tuesday in the month
between the hours of 10 o'clock in the ’forenoon
3 in the afternoon, at the court house of the
county in which the property is situated Notice
of those salos must bo given in a public Gazette
sixty days previous to the day of sale.
Notice of the salo of personal property must
be givei in a iiko manner forty days previous to
he day of sale.
Notice to debtors A creditors of an estate must
be published forty days.
Notice that all application will he made to the
court of ordinary for leave to sell land must he
published four months.
UTLetters on business must be Postpaid to
insure attention
AN
ENTIRELY NEW WORK.
Unprecedented in this Country.
“Wrinkled Mirth, that Caro derides.
And Laughter holding both his sides!”
The Publication trill be commenced in all Mat!
next. Orders should it forwarded without debit/.
PROSPECTUS
OF THE
COMIC MIRROR!!
Illustrated by upwards of two hundred tai ica
tuns, sketch's <y Comic Engravings, com
bining all the interest and spirit of the
Domestic, and Foreign Comic An
nuals Humorous Designs, and
laughable Drolleries.
PRICE, ONLY' 51,50 PER ANNUM.
The public have now before them the Pros
pectus of a work of which Wit and Humor are
to c.institute the principal ingredients The
publisher has observed the avidity with which
productions of similar pretensions, are sought
after, notwithstanding their leaden atiempts at
wit have been disfigured by coarse vulgarity,
and too otleu evinced an utter disregard of de
ceucy, unmindful that
linin' dost words, admit of no defence;
For want of decency, is want ot sense.
The favorable disposition which the public have
ao constantly rnai.ifeslcd towards similar at
tempts to amuse and entertain, has convinced
the publisher that a well conducted and pleasing
meluu. e of Wit and Humour, will he extensive
iy patronized Under this impression he has
made extensive arrangements, to procure, at
gieat cost, the best p'oductions of a humorous
nature both at h' tiie and abroad, including the
comic works of Hood, Cruiltsharik, and other
genuine sons of l omus; the Looking Glass, an
unique ntfair, with numerous olhei laughable
amt nirlh inspiring subjects.
It is impossible, nor sludl we think of attempt
ing to give in a itioie prospectus, an adequate
ilea of the variety and spirit which it shall be
the constant aim ta infuse into the page,, of the
Comic Mirror. It will be salisfaotory, howev
er, toslirnv, bv the testimony of the most dis
tinguished physicians, that invalids of almost
every description will derive benefit from our
labors; particularly those who are afflicted with
weak nerves lowness of spirits; and complaints
of a dyspeptic or bilious nature To these our
work will prove invaluable, and the smile of
good humour which will biighten the counten
ance, and the sense of inward satisfaction and
self-complacency which will assuredly put our
patients in the best of humour with themselves
and with the world, will induce them to thiow,
forthwith, their buttles, pills, and “physic to the
dogs ”
vVecan on!}' specify among the general and
diversified topies of the future pages of the
Work: »
Touches at the Pride, WI inis and Follies of
the Times, in which the lash of satire Will be
used with unsparing severity; but always in
such general terms, and with such perfect
good nature, as to give no cause of personal of
fence
Humours nnd Vagaries of the Police Office,
where human nature is exhibited in its true co
lours, nnd vice exposed in its naked deformity,
only that tho beacon may serve as a warning to
the dissolute and vicious
Doings of Folks about town; The Ways of
the World, and Peeps behind the curtain; caric
atures; Tales of Humour; Sketches of wit and
anecdotes of celebrated characters, men of Fan
cy and Fashion, who have nothing else to do but
tosmtertain their jiciglibors, and ins: ire others
with tlioir flashes of wit and merriment which
is ‘wont to set the table in a roa ."
The wholo will he illustrated l>y numerous
Comic Fngravings, executed at great expense,
and which of themselves will furnish an inex
haustible fund of amusement, and may', better
than any’ thing else, be taken upon a dull rainv
day, or serve to beguile an hour which wonid
otherwise pass heavily away.
Terms. — Notwithstanding the heavy expense
attending the publication of ihis singular and
entirely unique work, the publisher has deter
mined to put tho subscription at the very lowest
priec at which it can possibly be afforded, confi
dently relying on an extensive patronage for re
muneration. It will be published every other
week, at $1,50 per annum, invariably in ad
vanco Agents will be allowed a commission
of fifteen per rent, on alltemiKances No un
paid litters or orders without the amount of sub
scription will receive any attention, as tho ex
pense of the publication and the lowness of the
subscription, will not wonant the publisher in
doing otherwise.
Address S R KRAMMER,
Aprils, Igfll. Philadelphia.
for the above work
received at this otlioe.
Lost.
IOST on the road hot <ean Mnjrnolia. in the
J county of Harris, and Greenville, in the
county of Meriwether, a targe r etl Morocco poc
ket-hook con ainino about tifieen or twenty
dollars in notes on the hanks of this State: and
also one promissory note executed by William
Gilder to :he subscriber for ten ollars;—oho a
note executed bv William Clark to John D. Par
adise for eighteen dollars, thirty seven and one
half cents, and some other notes and j>a:>ersnnt
recollected particularly. Any inf rmation in
relation to the same will he thankfully received
hy tins subscriber residum near Greenville,
Merritvetlter county; and all |>ersonsar« hereby
esuttoned trading for the promissory’
Rotes dusvr.Ued above.
JOHN CLARK
THE raMOORAT.
COIiITMBITS, GEORGIA,.SATUR |>AY* Jl\K 33, l§3t.
THIRD VOLUME OP
TUB ISUNIItIiI
AND MOLTIIKKN DEMOCRAT.
We would respectfully inform our patrons aid
the public that we contemplate sundiy new ar
i angements, and improvements, in the forth
coining volume "f the Irishman ;” and w hile
we gratefully acknowledge our obligations for
past encouragement, we trust that an .augmen
ted liberality will enable us to carry those pro
jects into execution. Indeed the political as
pect ot things, and the relative position in
which we have voluntarily planed ourselves,
would seem to demand a corresponding energy
and enterprise on our part;—for we cannot con
ceal from ourselves that a crisis is approaching
very rapidly—il it has not already at rived—
"hen every advocate for good order, and the
• INTEGRITY OF Tins Usnm, must lie bold ill
avowing, and zealous in propagating the tiue
doctrines of the Constitution. The'enemy is
rallying his forces, and augmenting his iiieai.s
ot annoyance—tho most powerful engines that
talent, ingenuity, or low cunning can bring to
Lear, are, or will -peedily be levelled at the ven
erable fabric of our institutions-—and however
feeble our efforts, they must not bo wanting to
“resist the foe.” With this view, w'o piopose
enlarging our shoot, and giving to it the “form
and pressure” of the ordinary vehicles of infor
mation. The circle of our "exchanges too, has
bei n considerably extended, and assistance has
been secured in the Editorial department. We
promise our readers a laroe accession of origin
al, and an immediate transfer of such selected
matter, as may bear on the great, int.ciests ot
which we profess ourselves the advocates; —in
short, wo aro desirous of establishing anew rora
in the history of tho “Irishman Democrat,”
and respectfully solicit the co-operation ot our
friends.
A renewal of our political professions may he
considered as somewhat gratuiD u> at this peri
od of our career; hut such is the general boule
rersement of partios, such the open tergiversa
tion, or contemptible trimmi -g, which charac
terize nnd disgrace the period in which wo live,
that the honest Journalist owes it to himself, no
less than to his patrons, to recur frequently to
first principles. In accoidanco with this con
viction, we now avow our full determination to
abide the issuo of those principles which aclua
ted us in the outset — Irish J >isf.nthralment,
and niF. Integrity or tiik American Union!
Every thing hostile to the first, wo stand sol
emnly and irrevocably pledged to encounter,
whenever contempt or a less excuseahle feeling
will permit us to do so; whatever militates iv
gainit the last—no matter whence it p-oceed,
or under what specious exterior it may be dis
guixed. be it open suggestion. Nullification, or
Hartford, or any other Convention—as Amert
can-cilizcns, as men, as the reverers of Wash
ington and his last precious legacy, we shall lilt
up our voices, “trumpet-tongued, agaiust its
deep damnation!’' Opposed as wo am. and have
ever been to the Tariff, Internal linpro einents,
and the whole host of kindred al>. min itions, wo
shall never cease to oppose them with con titu.
tional weapons; but that policy which would
tear down a magnificent edifice, reared a' in
calculable cost and labor, and sacrifice, be
cause its latter tenants may havn appropriated
it to other uses than were originally designed,
is indicative of such wanton folly, or reckless
ambition, as to leave us no choice between im
plied acquiescence and unqualified reprohatian.
W.th such measures and their authors, wo can
hold neither council nor communion. We view
them as destructive to the very last degree, of
every thing ostimiiblo or sacred in our political
existence; and comparatively insignificant as
wo may seem, if our friends are not wanting to
themselves nnd us, we may yet oppose a formi
dable barriet to the march of ruin To this end,
our columns will be open, and we earnes lv en
treat the contributions of all friends of tiio U
nion. “It must bn i-rf.sekved,” has already
been wafltd from a qnarter, whose warning
tones are at once the Hiim nons to exertion, and
the harbingers of conquest. Let us not be un
mindful of the call.
As regards the ensuing Presidential election,
symptoms by no means equivocal, have already
. begun to manifest themselves, to the uttter dis
comfiture of every previous prognosis Nor
does it require any refined sagacity to discover
their proximate cause— Jackson lias had tho
firmness and consistency to frown on tho mach
inations to which wo have already adverted &
hence, some of those that rang ihe loudest notes
of praise, aro beginning to wail their feeble
cries, or to fulminate their coarsest anathemas
To call this only political defection, were a fee
ble phrase: in our opinion it involves a much
more serious cliargo of gross moral delinquen
cy, for it must puzzle even nullification sophis
try itself to point on the vast discrepancies
between Jackson tho idolized, and Jackson the
.forsaken! In what liis he fallen short of the ;
glorious anticipations, of which these very men j
were the vouener* and proclaimers? What du- j
tv has he neglected?' What responsit ilities has !
he evaded? W'liat recent occurrences have cast
their darkening shadows over a life of unparal
lelled dovotednoss. and incalculable public ser
vices?— For ourselves ns we were among the first
to support, wo are now confirmed in our confi
and nee in the man, by the very measures that
have entailed tho displeasure of his opponents;
and if any nossible contingency could induce us
to swerve from our fidelity, it would most assu
redly be of a more important character than a
personal difference with Mr Calhoun, with
which the public have, properly, nothing at all
to do. Andrew Jackson we now proclaim to be
our first, our las'. our only, and we shall yrt live,
we trust, to add, our succF.ssrei. Candidate!
Let his friends come fortli boldly: the season is
early, but not too early to counteract the subtle
schemes, the Machiavelian artifices of his ene
mies; and while ive offer cveiy facility which
our columns can afford, we pledge ourselves to
go hand in hand with them in whatever may
promote the glorious cnu«c!
Tiie proposed alteration in our paper will ne
cessarily impose additional expensis, to defray
which we solicit an increase in our subscription
list. Tiie first number of ‘■'THE I EIiHMA.\
JjYD SOUTHEItdf DEMOCRAT," in its new
form, will be issued on Saturday tho 21st of
May next, at .$•! per annum payable in Advance.,
o'- if'3 00, if not paid within six months from the
time of subscribing.
t barlcston, April 2‘2.
PIECES NANKEEN, a heacy
® article for Gentlemens wear. For
sale by GEO. W. DILLINGHAM.
BRICK.
The subscriber has 120,
000 Brick, which lie will sell on
accommodating terms. L. C.ALLEN.
Columbus, June 4.
JIE.YRI B. MKRSHOJC
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
|¥ \S located himself in Talbotton, &
will practice Law in the neighboring coun
ties. w3m.
1 Talbotton, May 14 131.
POETRY.
AIV CHILDHOOD'S HUME.
BV MRS NORTON.
I have tasted each varied pleasure,
And drunk of the cup of delight;
I have danced to the gayest measure
In tho halls of dazzling light;
I have dwelt in a blaze of splendour,
And stood in the courts of kings;
I have snatched at each toy that could render
More rapid the flight of time's wings.
But vainly I’ve sought for joy or peace,
In that life of light and shade;
And I turn with a sigh to iny own dear home,
The home where my childhood played.
When jewels are sparkling round me,
And dazzling with their rays,
I weep for the lies that bouud me
In life’s first early days.
I sigh for one of the sunny hours,
Ere day was turned to night;
For one of my nosegays of ficsh wild flowets,
Instead of my jewels bright
I weep when I gaze on the sconiless buds
Which naver can bloom or fade;
Andi turn with a sigh to those gav green
fields—
The home where my childhood played.
SONG.
■ Y W ROSCOK, ES<£.
Quench not the light that soon must fade,
Nor damp the fire that toon must die,
Nor lot to-morrow’s ills invade
The lioul to-day devotes to joy.
Ah! who with music's softest swell
Would mingle sorrow’s piercing moan?
Or to the hounding spirit tell
Dow soon the charm of life is flown?
Say, is the rose's scent less sweet
Because its biooui must to,.n decay?
Or shall we shun the bliss to meet
That cannot here forever stay?
No: by the power that bliss who gave,
This hour wc'lltroin the future borrow,
And, all that fate allows us saro
From the dread shipwreck of to-morrow.
MISCELLANEOUS-
THE TWO SISTERS.
BY MISS MARY RUSSELL MITFORD.
The pretty square farm-house, stand
ing at the corne r where Kibcs-lane cross
es tiie brook, or the brook crosses Kibes
lane, (or the first phrase, although giving
by far the closest picture of place, does, it
must be confessed, look rather Irish, and
where the afforsuid brook winds away by
the side of another lane, until it spreads
into a river-lake dignity, as it meander*
through the sunny plain of Hartly com
mon, and finally disappears amidst the
green recesses of l'inge Wood —that pret
ty square farm-house, half hidden by the
tall elms in the flower court before it,
which, with the spacious garden and or
chard behind,and the extensive barn-yards
and out-buildings, so completely occupies
one of the angles formed by the crossing
of the lane and the stream —that pretty
farm house contains one of the happiest
and most prosperous families in Aberleigh,
the large and thriving family of farmer
Evans.
Whether from skill or good fortune, or
as is most probable, from a lucky mixture
: of both, every thing goes right in his great
j farm. His crops are the best in the par
‘ isb ; his hay is never spoiled; his cat
tle never die; his servants never thieve:
his children arc never ill. He buys cheap,
and sells dear ; money gathers about him
: like a snow-hall; .and yet, in spite of all
this provoking and intolerable prosperity,
every body loved farmer Evans. He is so
hospitable, so good natured, so generous
so homely! There, after all, lies the
charm. Itiches have not only not spoilt
the man, but they have not altered him.
He is just the same in look, and word, &.
way, that he was thirty years ago, when
he and his wife, with two sorry horses,
! one cow, find three pigs, began the world
at Dean-gate, a little bargain of twentj
acres, two miles off; ay, and his wife is
the same woman! the same frugal tidy,
industrious good-natured Mrs. Evans, so
noted for her activity of tongue and limb,
her good looks, and her plain dressing.
as frugal, as good-natured, as active, and
as plain dressing a Mrs. Evans at forty
live as she was at nineteen, anti in a differ
ent way, almost as good looking.
Their children —six “boys,” as farmer
Evans prorniscuouly calls them, whose
ages vary from eight to eight and twenty,
and three girls, two grown up, and one
not yet seven, the youngest of the family,
are just what might be expected from pa
rents so simple and so good. The young
men, intelligent and well conducted ; the
boys, docile and promising; and the lit
tle girl as pretty anti curly-headed, rosy
cheeked poppet as ever was the pet ami
plaything of a large family. It is how
ever, with the eldest daughters we have
to do.
Jane anti Fanny Evans were as much
alike as hath often befallen any two sis
ters not horn at one time.—for in the
mattor of twin children there has been a
a series of {Mizzles ever since the day of
dromois. Nearly of an age, (I believe at
this moment both are turned for nineteen,
and neither have reached twenty) exactly
ot a stature, (so high that Frederick would
have coveted them for w ives lor his tall
regiment) wi'h hazel eyes, large mouths,
lull lips, white teeth, brown hair, clear
healthy complexions, and that sort of
nose which is neither Grecian nor Ho
man. nor acquiline, nor te pettit nezre
trowsc that some persons prefer to them
all; but a nose which, modcrctely prom
inent. and sufficiently well shaped, is yet,
as far as 1 know', anonymous, although it
he perhaps as common and as well
looking a feature as is to be seen oa an
English face.
Altogether, they were a pair of tall and
comely maidens, and being constantly at
tired hi garments of the same colour and
fashion, looked at times so much alike,
that no stranger eveJ dreamed of knowing
them apart ; and even their acquaintan
ces were rather accustomed to think and
speak of them generally as “the Evans’s”
than ns the separate individuals, Jane and
Fanny. Even those who did pretend to
distinguish the one from the other were not
exempt from mistakes, which the sisters,
Fanv especially, who delighted in the fun
so often produced by the unusual resem
blance; were npt*to favour by changing
places in a walk, or slipping from one
side to the other at a tea-party, or play
ing a hundred innocent tricks to occasion
at once a grave blunder, and a merry
laugh.
Old Tabitha Goodwin for instance,who
being rather purblind, was jealous of be
ing suspected of seeing less clearly than
he r neighbours, nnd had defied even the
Evans’s to puzzle her discernment—seek
ing in vain on Fanny’s hand the cut fin
ger which she hud dressed on Jane’s, as
cribed the incredible cure to the merits of
her own incomparable salve, and could
hardly he undeceived, even by the pulling
off of Jane’s glove, and the exhibition of
the lacerated digitul sewed round by her
own bandage.
Young George Bailey too, the greatest
beau in the parish, having betted at a
Christmas party that he would dance with
every pretty girl in tiie room, lost Ins wa
ger (which Fanny had overheard) by that
saucy damsel’s slipping into her sister’s
place, and persuading her to join her own
unconscious partner; so that George dan
ced twice with Fanny and not ut all with
Jane. A flattering piece of malice, which
proved, us the young gentleman (a rustic
exquisite of the first water) was pleased
to assert, that Miss Fanny was not dis
pleased with her partner. How little does
a vain man know of womankind! If site
had liked him,she would not hate played
the trick for the mines of Golcondu.
In short, from their school days, when
Jane was chidden for Fanny’s bad work,
and Fanny slapped for Jane’s bad spell
ing, down to this their prime of woman
hood, there had been no end to the con
fusion produced by this remarkable in
stance of family likeness.
And yet nature, who sets some mark of
individuality upon even her meanest pro
ductions, making some unnoted difference
between the lanths from one ewe, the
robins bred in one nest, the flowers grow
ing on one stalk, and the leaves hanging
from one tree, had not left these young
maidens without oue great and permanent
distinction—a natural and striking dis
similarity of temper. Equally industri
ous, affectionate, happy, and kind; each
was kind, happy, affectionate, and indus
trious in a different way. Jane was
grave; Fanny was gay. If you heard a
laugh or song, be sure it was Fanny; she
who smiled, for certain was Fanny: she
who jumped the stile, when her sister o
jiened the gate, was Fanny; she who cha
sed the pigs from the garden as merrily
as if she were running a race, so that tin
very pigs did not mind her, was Fanny.
On the other hand, she that so careful
ly was making, with its own ravelled
threads, an invisible darn in her mother’s
handkerchief, and hearing her little sister
read the while; she that so patiently was
feeding, onel>y one, two broods of young
turkies; she that so pensively was water
ing herown bed of delicate and somewhat
rare plants; the pale stars of the Alpine
pink, or the alabaster blossoms of the
white evening primrose, whose modest
flowers, dying off into a blush, resembled
herown character was Jane.
Some of the gossips of Aberleigh used
to assert, that Jane’s sighing over the
flowers, as well as the early steadiness of
her character, arose from an engagement
to my lord’s head gardener, an intelligent,
sedate, and sober young Scotchman. Os
this I knew nothing. Certain it is, that
tin: prettiest and newest plants were al
ways to be found in Jane’s little flower
border; and if Mr. Archibald Maelane did
sometimes conic to look after them, I do
not see that it was any business of any bo
dy’s.
In the mean time, n visiter of a differ
ent description arrived at the farm. A
cousin of Mrs. Evan’s been as suc
cessful in trade as hci husband had licen
in agriculture, and lie had now sent his
only sou to become acquainted with his
relations and to spend some weeks in
their family.
Charles Foster was a fine young man,
whose father was neither more nor less
than a rich linen-drajjer in a great town;
but whose manne rs, education, mind, and
character, might have done honour to a
VOL. I—AO. 37.
lur hiirliei station. He was, in a word,
one of natures geiit/cuna; and in n.oth
iiig did he more thoroughly show his ow n
taste and good breeding, than hv ,nt< r
ttig entirely into the homely w ays and old*
t '.shioned habits of Itii country cons.us.
He w as delighted with the siiiiphcitv, fru
gality, and industry, which blended u,.1l
with the Stirling goodness and <ri-uiiine u
hundance of the great English farmhouse.
Tile young women especially pleased him
much. They formed a strong contrast
with any thing he had met with before.
No finery! no coquetry! no French! no
piano! It is impossible to describe (he
sensation of relief and comfort with which
Charles Foster, sick of musical misses,
ascertained that the whole dwelling did
not contain a single ins’ruuicnt, except
the bassoon, on which George Evans was
wont, every Sunday at church, to excru
ciutetlie ears of the whole congregation.
He liked both sisters. Jane’s softness A
considcratencss engaged his full esteem;
hut Fanny’s innocent playfulness suited
best w itli liis own high spirits and anima
ted conversation. He had known them
apart front the first; and indeed lie deni-
ed that the likeness was at all puzzling,
or more limit is usual between sisters, and
secretly thought Fanny us much prettier
than her sister as she was avowedly mer
rier. In doors and out, lie was constant
ly at her side; and before he had been a
month in the house, all its inmates had
given Charles Foster, as a lover, to his
young cousin; and she, when rallied on
the subject cried fie! and pshaw! A: won
dered how people could talk such non
sense, and liked to have such not.sense
talked to her better than any tiling in the
world.
Affairs were in this state, when one
night Jane appeared even graver and
more thoughtful than usual, and far, far,
sadder. .'She sighed deeply; und Fanny,
for the tw’o sisters shared the same little
room, inquired tenderly, “What ailed
her?” Tiie inquiry seemed to make June
w orse. She burst into tears, w hilst Fun
ny hung over her, and soothed her. At
length she roused herself by a strong ef
fort; aud turning away from her affection
ate comforter, said in a low tone: “I
hove had a great vexation to-night, Fan
ny; Charles Foster has asked me to mar
ry him.”
“Charles Foster! Did you say Charles
Foster?” asked poor Fanny, trembling,
unwilling to trust even her own semes n
gainst the evidence of her heart; “Charles
Foster?
“Yes, our cousin, Charles Foster.”
“And you have accepted him?” inqui
red Fanny in a hoarse voice.
“Oh no! no! Do you think I have for
gotten poor Archibald? Besides I am not
the person whom he ought to have asked
to many him; false and heartless ns he
is. 1 would not be his wife; cruel, un
manly as his conduct has been! No! not
if he could make me queen of England!”
“You refused him then?”
“No, my father met us suddenly, just
as I was recovering from the surprise and
indignation that at first struek me dumb.
But I shall refuse him most certainly —
the false, deccitfid, ungrateful, villain!”
“My dear father! 11c will be disap
pointed. So w ill my mother.”
‘‘They w ill both he disappointed, and
both angry—but not at iny refusal. Oh,
how they will despise him!” added Jane;
and poor Fanny, melted by her sister’s
sympathy, and touched hy an indignation
most unusual in that mild and gentle girl,
could no longer command her feelings,
but flung herself on the bed in that agony
of passion and grief, w hich the first great
sorrow seldom fails to excite in n young
heart.
After a while she resumed the conver
sation. “YVe must not llume him too
severely Jane. Perhaps my vanity made
me tkiuk his attentions meant more than
they really did, and you had all taken up
the notion. But you must not speak of
him so unkindly. He has done nothing
hut what is liuturnl. You arc so much
wiser, and better than 1 am, my own dear
Jane! He laughed and talked with me;
hut he felt your goodness—and he was
right. I was never worthy of him, nnd
you nrc; and if it were not for Arch
ibald, I should rejoice from the bottom of
my heart,” continued Fanny, sobbing,“if
you would accept”—but unable to finish
her generous wish, she burst into a -fresh
flow of tears; and the sisters, mutually &.
strongly affected, wept in each other’s
arms, and were comforted.
That night Fanny cried herself to sleep;
but such sleep is of short duration. Be
fore dawn she was up, and pacing, with
restless irritability, the dewy grass walks
of the garden and orchard. In less than
half ail hour, a light elastic step (she
knew the sound well!) came rapidly
hind her; a hand, (oh, how often had she
thrilled at the touch of that hand!) tried
to draw hers under his own; whilst a well
known voice addressed herin the softest &
tenderest accents: “Fanny,my own sweet
Funny! have you thought of what I said
to you last night?”
“Torse?” replied Funny with bitter
ness.
“Ay, to lie sure, to your own dear self!
Do you not remember the question I ask
ed you, when your good father, for the
first time unwelcome, joined ns to sudden
ly that you hud no time to say, yes? And
will you not say yes now?"
“Mr. Foster!" replied Fanny, with
