The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1836-1851, May 17, 1850, Image 1
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?ljc Canteen lottrwftl.
VOLTJME11. ' CAMDENrSQUTH-CAROLINA, MAY 17, 1850. NUMBER 39.
Poetical Department.
LINES TO MARY.
The sunset's sweet and holy blush
Is imaged in the sleeping stream,
All nature's deep and solemn hush
Is like the silence of a dream;
A..J TU.4/.0 o?m? hrnndimr like a doA?e
"""r-" 7~ .
O'er scenes to musing spirits dear?
Sweet Mar}-, 'tis the hour of love,
And I were blest if thou wert here!
The myriad flowers of every hue
Are sinking to their evening rest,
Each with a timid drop of dew
Soft folded to its sleeping breast.
The birds within yon silent grove
Are dreaming that the spring is near?
Sweet Mary, 'tis the hour of love,
And I were blf st if thou wert here f
The pale, full moon, in silent pride,
O'er yon dark wood is rising now,
As lovely sis when by thy side
I saw it shining 011 thy brow;
It lights the dew-drops of llie grove
As hope's bright smile lights beauty's tear?
Sweet Mary, 'tis the hour of love,
And I were blest if thou wert here!
Ah! as I rouse, a strange, wild thrill
Steals o'or the fibres of my frame?
A gentle presence seems to fill
My heart with love and life and flame;
I feel thy spirit round me move,
I know thysoul is hovering near?
Sweet Mary, 'tis the hour of love,
And lam blest, for thou art here!
S!)c ?lio.
Patrimony and Matrimony.?A gentleman
one day visiting a school at Edinburgh,
had a book put into his hand for the purpose of
examining a class. The word " inheritance "
occurring in the verse, the querist interrogated
the youngster as follows:
" What is inheritance P
** Patrimony."
u What is patrimony ?"
u Something left by a father."
? r 11 11 !i ff l.A 1...
~ n nai wouiu you cam u u leu uy n uuiuici ?
" Matrimony!"
GEMS.
The loadstone, indifferent to gold and silver,
draws the iron to it
Some memories are like those ponds where
the frogs live, but the fish die.
Reading and meditation, like Castor and Pol?
. i i._ .1
lux, must appear togeiuer. me uee sucks ur
flower, and then works it into the hive, and so
turns it into honey. By reading we suck the
flower of the word, by meditation we work it
into the hive of our mind, and so it turns to
profit
1
It has been said that the ground on which
the peacock site is barren; that heart where
pride sits is really barren.
Tl.a oniinant ftnints h.lVM lippn nf low
stature in their own eyes; like the sun at the
zenith, they shone least wheu they were at the
highest
Myrrh is bitter to the palate, but good for
the stomach. They mistake their comforts, as
Apollo embraced the laurel tree instead of
Daphne.
Stiffnbw.?A right reverend prelate, himself
a man of extremo good nature, was frequently
much vexed in the spirit, by the proud,
forward, perverse, and untractable temper of
his vicar. The latter, after an absence much
longer than usual, one day paid a visit to the
bishop, who kindly inquired the cause of his
absence, and was answered by the vicar that
be hod been confined to his house for some
time past by an obstinate s'ijfnex* in his knee.
" I am glad of that," replied the prelate;
" 'tis a good sym|>tom that the disorder has
changed place, for I had a long time thought it
immoveably settled in your nkuk !"
Oxk Tinxo at a Timk.?Step among your
neighbors, reader, and sec whether those among
them who have got along smoothly, and accumulated
property and gained a good name,
have not been men who bent themselves to one
point, and built on one foundation. It must
be so.
Go out in the spring, when the sun is yet far
distant, and you can scarcely feel the influence
of his beams, scattered as they are over the wide
face of creation; but collect those beams to a
focus, and they kindle up a tlame in an instant.
So the man that squanders his strength on many
things, will fail to make an impreision with
either, but let him draw them to a point, let
him strike at a single object, and it will yield
Jbefore him.
Not a bad Jokk.?The Salem Gazette says
that the wife of a gentleman of that town recently
took into her sersice a girl Just arrived
/rom Ireland. On Tuesday morning, slio accosted
her mistress with the exclamation:?
' "They've been playing tricks upon us!?
There's been a boy all about the neighborhood,
stickiiiL' wet naner into every body's door."
, Her employer replied that it was only tho
^newspaper.
"O, no!" she answered, "it could not be the
newspaper, for it was wet And I rolled up
the one at our door and flung it after the blackguard,
as soon as he was out of sight.
The blunder cost the editor a fresh paper,
hut paid hjm its cost in a goon laugh.
3. Selected Sale.
<
I From Sharpe'n Magazine. J
THE BARK LADY.
B V MRS. S. C. HALL.
Pkople find it easy enough to laugh at "spirit
stories " in broad daylight, when the sunbeams
dance upon the grass, and the deepest forest
glades are spotted and checkered only by the
tender shadows of leafy trees; when the rugged
castle, that looked so mysterious and so
stern in the looming night, seenis suited for a
lady's bower; when the rushing waterfall sparkles
in diamond showers, and the hum of bee ;
and song of bird tune the thoughts to hopes of
life and happiness; j>eople may laugh at ghosts
then, if they like, but as for me, I never could
merely. smile at the records of those shadowy
visitors. I have large faith in things supernatural,
and cannot disbelieve solely on the ground
that 1 lack such evidences as are supplied by J
the senses?for they, in truth, sustain by palpable
proofs so few of the many man-els by
which we are surrounded, that I would rather
reject them altogether as witnesses, than abide
the issue entirely as the}- suggest
My great grandmother vas a native of the
canton of Berne; and at the advanced age of
ninety, her memory of " the long ago " was as t
- -l! 111 1 iCA J.n Ist.iL t
aclive us 11 coum nave ueeu ai niieeu , bhv i?uived
as if she had just stepped out of a piece of 1
tapestry belonging to a past age, but with warm v
sympathies for the present. Iler English, when ?
she became excited, was very curious?a ming- 1
ling of French, certainly not Parisian, with 1
here and there scraps of Herman done into ^
English, literally ? so that her observations .a
were at times remarkable for their strength. v
" The mountains," she would say, " in her coun- 1;
try, went high, high up, until they could look v
into the heavens, and lieor (iod in the storm." 1
She thoroughly comprehended the real beauty r
of EtiL'land: but snokc with conteniot of the I ^
O ' 1 I #
flatness of our island?calling our mountains j v
" inequalities," nothing more?holding our agri- 1
culture " cheap," saying that the land tilled it- t
self, leaving man nothing to do. She would J1
sing the most amusing pnlo'u songs, and tell 11
stories from morning till night, more especially 4
spirit-stories; but the old lady would not tell a d
tale of that character a second time to an unbeliever;
such things, she would say, "are not "
for make laugh." One in particular, I reinem- u
ber, always excited great interest in her young ^
listeners, from its mingling of the real and the 11
romantic ; but it can never be told as she told
it; there was so much of the picturesque about v
the olu lady?so much to admire lit the curious 1
carving of her ebony cane, in the beauty of her
point lace, the size ami weight of her long ugly >'
ear-rings, the fashion of her solid silk gown, 11
the singularity of her buckled shoos?her dark e
brown wrinkled face - every wrinkle an expres- c
sion?her broad thoughtful brow, beneath which 11
glittered her bright (due eyes?bright, even j 1
when her eyelashes were white with year*. All ^
these peculiarities gave impressive eli'ect to her '
words. ^
" In my young time," she told us, " I s|ient 11
many happy hours with Ainelic de Robean, in 11
her uncle's castle. He was a fine man?much 11
size, stern, and dark, and 1'ull-of noise?a strong 1
man, no fear?he had a great heart, and a big r
head. v
The castle was situated in the midst of the 1
most stu|iendous Alpine scenery, and yet it was '
not solitary. There were other dwellings in ^
sight; some very near, but separated by a ra- 0
vine, through which at all seasons, a rapid river ''
kept its foaming course. You do not know a
what torrents are in this country, your torrents *
are as babies?ours are giants. This one I ;1
speak of divided the valley; here and there a *
rock, round which it sported, or stormed, according
to the season. In two of these defiles c
these rocks were of great value; acting as piers "
lor the sunnnrf of fl>?* mile memo; of "
communication with our opposite neighbors. '''
" Monsieur, as we always called the count, *
was, as 1 have told you, a dark, stern, violent n
man. All men are wilful, my dear young la* h
dies," she would say, "but Monsieur was the ''
most wilful: all men are selfiish, but he was the e
most selfish: all men are tyrants?" Here the ['
old lady was invariably interrupted by her re* 11
latives, with "Oh, good <1 runny!" ai I, "Oh fie, ^
dear (Jrunny!" and slu* would bridle up a little *
and fan herself; then continue?"Yes my dears, R
each creature according to its nature?all men
are tyrant; and I confess that ( do think a Swiss
whose mountain inheritance is neni ly coeval f
with the creation of the mountains, has a right l
to be tyrannical; I did not intend to blaine him *
for that: I did not, because I bad growu used
to it. Anielic and I always stood up when he e
entered the room, and never sat down until we "
were desired, ile never bestowed a loving
word or kind look upon either of us. We fiev-.
er spoke except when we were spoken to,"
" Hut when you and Amclie were alone, dear r
Granny
" Oh, why, then we did chatter, I suppose; r
though then it was in moderation; for monsieur's a
influence chilled us evon when he was not pros, tl
i ..i... ,,,...,1.1 ui. i......i
Ul?t, UIIU Uilfll Bllf UWHIU Oil) , It 13 ou nam trying
to love liim, for he will not let ine !"? q
There is no such beauty in the world now as ?
Amelie's. I can see her as she used to stand a
before the richly carved glass in the grave oak- ti
j panelled dressing-room; her luxuriant hair c
I combed up from her full round brow; the (lis- t!
creete maidenly cap, covering tne nacK oi ncr r
head; her brocaded silk, (which she had inherit- ii
ed from her grandmother,) shaded round the
bosom by the modest ruffle; her black velvet h
gorget and bracelets, showing off to perfection f
the pearly transparency of her skin, She was li
the loveliest of all creatures, and as good as she s
was lovely; it seems but as yesterday that wo n
were together?but as yesterday! And yet I ti
lived to see her an old woman; so they called o
her, but she never seemed old to me! My s
)wn dear Amelie!" Ninety years had not
Jried up the sources of poor Granny's tears,
lor chilled her heart; and she never spoke of
\melie without emotion. "Monsieur was very
iroud of his niece, because she was part of
limself; she added to his consequence, she contributed
to his enjoyments; she had grown nejessary;
she was the one sunbeam of his house."
"Not the one sunbeam, surely, Granny!"
>ne of us would exclaim; "vou were a sunbeam
hen."
" I was nothing where Amelie was?nothing
jut her shadow! The bravest and best in the
:ountry would have rejoiced to be to her what
[ was?her chosen l'riend; and some would
lave perjllcd their lives for one of the sweet
smiles which played around her uncle, but never
ouched his heart Monsieur never would suffer
people to be happy except in his way. He
lad never married; and he declared Amelie
lever should. She had, he said, as much enoj'ment
as he had: she had a castle with a
Iraw-bridge; she had a forest for hunting; dogs
mil horses; servants and serfs; jewels, gold,
t I . 11 !
ma gorgeous ureases; n guitar ana a narpsishord;
a parrot?and a friend ! And such an
mcle! he believed there was not such another
mcle iu broad Europe! For many a long day
Vmeiie laughed at this catalogue of advantages?that
is, sho laughed when her uncle left
he room; she never laughed before him. In
inie, the laugh came not; but in its place, sighs
ind tears. Monsieur had a great deal to aniwer
for. Amelie was not prevented from seeng
the gentry when they came to visit in fornal
way, and she met many, hawking and
lunting; but she never was permitted to invite
iny one to the castle, nor to accept an initation.
Monsieur fancied that by shutting
ler lips, he closed her heart; and boasted such
imc the fidvnnhirrn of his mind t.raininir. that
' "w " D" "* "**" O # O*
Urn-lie's mind was fortified against all weakicsses,
for she had not the least dread of wanluring
about the ruined chapel of the castle,
vhcre he himself dared not go after dusk,
['his place was dedicated to the family ghost?
he spirit, which for many years had it entirely
it its own disposal. It was much attached to
ts quarters, seldom leaving them, except for
he purpose of interfering when anything deciledly
wrong was going forward in the castle.
La Fernrne Noir' had been gliding along the
inprotected parapet of the bridge, and standng
on a pinnacle, before the late master's
loath; and many tales were told of her, which
a this age of unbelief would not be credited."
" (irannj*, did you know why your friend
entured so leariessiy into uie gnosis lerriioics?"
inquired my cousin.
"I am not come to that," was the reply; "and
ou are one saucy little maid to ask what I do
lot choose to tell. Amclic certainly entertaind
no fear of the spirit; 'La Fcmmc Noir'
ould have no angry feelings towards her, for
ny friend would wander in the ruins, taking
10 note of daylight, or moonlight, or even
larkness. The peasants declared their young
ady must have walked over crossed bones, or
Irank water out of a raven's skull, or passed
line times round the spectre's glass on midsumner
eve She must have done all this, if not
nore; there could be little doubt that the ' Fernne
Noir' had initiated her into certain mysteies;
for they heard, at times, voices in low,
vhispering converse, and saw the shadows of
wo persons cross the old roofless chapel, when
Mamsellc' had passed the foot-bridge alone,
donsieur gloried in the fearlessness on the part
if his gcutle niece; and more than once, when
le had revellers in the castle, he sent her forth
t midnight to bring him a bough from a tree
hat only grew beside the altar of the old chapel;
.ml she did his bidding always as willingly,
hough not as rapidly, as he could desire.
" Kut p.crtaiulv Amelia's couraire brought no |
aliiiness. She became pale; her pillow was
iften moistened by her tears; her music was
leglected; she took no pleasure in the chase;
nd her chamois not receiving its usual attenion,
went off into the mountains. She avoided
tie?her friend! who would have died for her,
he made no roply to my prayers, and did not
leed my entreaties. One morning, when her
yes were fixed upon a book she did not read,
ml I sat at my embroidery a little apart, watchnnr
tin, ton re cfrn v over her e.lieelc until I was
"j> ,"v """" '""V ? ilindcd
by my own, I heard monsieur's heavy
ramp approaching through the long gallery;
ome hoots crack?but the boots of monsieur!
hey growled!
"Save me, oh save mc!' she exclaimed wildly,
lefore I could reply, her uncle crashed open
he door, and stood before us like an embodied
hunderholt. He held an open letter in his
land?hiseyesglared-his nostrils were distendd?he
trembled so with rage, that the cabiicts
and old china shook again.
"Doyou,' said he, 'know Charles le Maitre?'
"Amelia replied, she did.
"How did you make acquaintance) with the
on of my deadliest foe ?
"There was no answer. The question was
epeated. Ainelie said she had met him, and
t last confessed it was in the ruined portion of
he oastlo! She threw herself at her uncle's feet
? I 4. 1 ..I .
?she* clung to his knees ; love laugm ner eiuuence.
JShe told him how deeply Charles re
;rotted the long-standing feud; now earnest,
nd true, and good, lie was. Bonding low, unit
her tresses wore heaped upon the floor, she
onfessed, modestly, hut ficjnly, that she loved
liis young man ; that sho would rather saeriiee
the wealth of the whole world, than forget
im
" Monsieur seemed suffocating; he tore off his
ice cravat, and scattered its fragments on the
loor?still she clung to him. At last he flung
icr from him; he ropronched her with the bread
ho hud eaten, and heaped odium upon her
uother's memory! But though Amelia's naure
was tender and affectionate, the old spirit
f naturo was tender and affectionate, the old
pirit of the old raco was roused within her.
the slight girl arose and stood erect before the
man of storms.
" Did you think,' she said, 'because I bent
to you that I am feeble? You gave food to
this frame, but. you feed not my heart; you
gave me.not love, nor tenderness ,nor sympathy,
you showed me to your friends, as you would
your horse. If you had by kindness sown the
seeds of love within my bosom; if you had been
a father to me in tenderdcss, I would have been
to you?a child. 1 never knew the time when
I did not tremble at your footstep; but I will do
so 110 more. I would gladly have loved you,
trusted you, cherished you; but I feared to let
you know I had a heart, lest you should tear
and insult it. Oh, those who expect love
where they give none, and confidence where
there is no trust, blast the fair time of youth,
and lay up for themselves an unhonored old age.
The scene terminated by monsieur's falling down
in a fit, and Amelie's being conveyed fainting
to her chamber.
" That night the castle was enveloped by
storms; they came from all points of the compass?thunder,
lightning, hail, and rain! The
master lay in his stately bed and was troubled;
he could hardly believe that Amelie spoke the
words he had heard: cold-hearted and selfish
as he was, he was also a clear seeing man,
and it was their truth that struck him. But
still his heart was hardened; he had commanded
Amelie to be locked into her chamber, and
her lover seized and imprisoned when he came
to his usual tryste. Monsieur, I have said, lay
iti his stately bed, the lightning, at intervals,
illuming his dark chamber. I had cast myself
on the tloor outside her door, but could not hear
her weep, though I knew that she was resting
against the lintel of the door, a form passed
through the solid oak from her chamber, without
the bolls being withdrawn. I saw it as
plainly as I see your faces now, under the influence
of various emotions; nothing opened,
but it passed through?a shadowy form, dark
and vapory, but perfectly distinct. I knew it
was ' La Femnie Noir/ and I trembled, for she
never came from caprice, but always for a purpose.
I did not fear for Amelie, for' La Femme
NoiF never warred with the high-minded or virtuous.
She passed more slowly than 1 am speaking;
along the corridor, growing taller and tiller
as she went, until she entered monsieur's chain
ber by the door exactly opposite where I stood.
She paused at the foot of the plumed bed, and
the lightning, no longer fitful, by its broait
Hashes kept up a continual illumination. She
stood lor sometime perfeltly motionless, though
in a loud tone the master demanded whence
she came, and what she wanted. At last, during
a pause in the storm, she told him that all
the power he possessed should not prevent the
union of Amehc and Charles. 1 heard her voice
myself; it sounded like the night-wind among
fir-trees? cold and shrill, chilling both ear and
heart I turned my eyes awav while she spoke,
and when I looked again she was gone! The
storm continued to increase in violence, and
the master's rage kept pace with the war of elements.
The servants were trembling with undefined
terror; they feared they knew not what;
? i l l - 'I-:-... l..,?o;??c l.i- linvir.
uie uugs auuuu iw Hit.. ~J
ling fearfully, and then barking in the highest
possible key; the master paced about his chamber,
calling in vain on his domestics, stamping
and swearing like a maniac. At last, amid
o o
flashes of lightning, he made his way to the
head of the great staircase, and presently the
clang of the-alarm-bell mingled with the thunder
und the roar of the mountain torrents: this
hastened the servants to his presence, though
they seemed hardly capable of understanding
his words?he insisted on Charles being brought
before him. We all trembled, for he was mad
and livid with rage. The warden, in whose
euro the young man was, dared not enter the
hail that echoed his loud words and heavy footsteps,
for when he went to seek his prisoner, he
found every bolt and bar withdrawn, and the
iron door wide o|?eii: he was gone. Monsieur
seemed to find relief by his energies being call
cri into action; lie ordered instant pursuit, and
rnountod Ids favorite charger, despite the fury
of the elements. Although the great gates
shook like an aspen-leaf, lie set forth, his path
illumed hy the lightning; hold and brave as he
was his horse, he found it most impossible to
get it forward; lie dug his spurs deep into the
thinks of the noble animal, until the red hlood
mingled with the rain. At last, it rushed madly
down the path to the bridge the young man
must cross; and when they reached it, the master
discerned the Hooting cloak of the pursued,
a few yards in advance. Again the horse re
belled against his will, the lightning Hashed in
his eyes, and the torrent sccuied a mass of red
tire; no sound could lie heard hut of its roaring
waters; the attendants clung as they advanced
to the hand rail of the bridge. The youth, unconscious
of the pursuit, proceeded rapidly;
ami again roused, tho horse plunged forward.
On the instant, the form of'La Femme
Noir* passed with the blast tiiat rushed down
the ravine; the torrent followed in her track
and more than half the bridge was swept away
forever, As the master reined back the horse
he had so urged forward, ho saw the youth
kneeling with outstretched arms on the opposite
bank?kneeling in gratitude for bis deliverance
from bis double peril. All were struck with
tlio piety of tlio youth, and earnestly rejoiced
at his deliverance; though they did not presume
to say so, or look us if they thought it, 1 never
saw so changed a person as the master when
he re-entered tlio castle gate: his cheek was
blanched?his eye quailed?his fierce pluino
hung broken over his shoulder?hjs step was
unequal, and in tlio voice of a feeble girl ho said
?' ilrjng me a cup of wine.' I was his cuphearer,
and for the first time in his life he thank*
ed mo graciously, niul iu the warmth of his gratitude
tapped n?y shoulder; the caress nearly
hurlod me across the hall, What passed in his
retiring-room I know not, Some said the
'Femnie Noir* visited him again; I cannot tell;
I did not see her; I speak of what I saw, not of
what I heard. The storm passsed away with
a clap of thunder, to which the former sounds
were but as the rattling of pebbles beneath the
swell of a summer wave. The next morning
monsieur sent for the pasteur. The good man
seemed terror-stricken as he entered llie hall;
but monsieur filled him a quart of gold coins
out of a leathern bag, to repair his church, and
that quickly; and grasping his hand as he "departed,
looked him steadily in the face. As
lie did so, large drops stood like beads upon
his brow; his stern, coarse features were
strangely moved while he gazed upon the calm
pale minister of peace and love. 'You,' he
said,' bid God bless the poorest peasant that
passes you on the mountain; have you no blessing
to give the master of Rohean V
"' My son,' answered the good man,' I give
you the blessing I may give:?May God bless
you, and may vour heart be onened to crive and
w w O ~
to receive.'
"' I know I can give,' replied the proud man;
'but what can I receive?'
" ' Love,' he replied. ' All your wealth has
not brought you happiness, because you are
unloving and unloved ?
" llie demon returned to his brow, but it did
not remain there.
You shall give mc lessons in this tiling/
he said: and so the good man went his way.
" Amelie continued a close prisoner; but a
chance came over monsieur. At first he shut
o ' ' " " " " w
himself up iu his chaml)er, and no one was suffered
to enter his presence; he took his food
with his own hand from the only attendant who
ventured to approach his door. He was heard
walking up and down the room, day and night
When we were going to sleep, we heard his
tramp; at daybreak, there it was again ; and
those of the household, who awoke at intervals
during the night said it was unceasing.
" Monsieur could read. Ah, you may smile;
but iu those days, and in those mountains, such
men as the master did not trouble themselves
or others with knowledge; but the master of
Kohean read both Latin and Greek, and commanded
tub book he had never opened since
his childhood to be brought to him. It was taken
out of his velvet case, and carried forthwith;
and we saw his shadow from without.
like the shadow of a giant, bending over the
book; and he read in it some days; and we
greatly hoped it would change his nature?and
though I cannot say much for the softening, it
certainly afTected a great ceatigo; ho no longer
stalked moodily ulong the corridors, and
banged the doors, and swore ut the servants;
he rather seemed possessed of a merry devil,
roaring out an old song?
Aux bastions do Geneve, nos cannons
Sunt brunquez;
S' il y a quelque attnquc nos les feront ronfler,
Viva! les canuoniers!
and then he would pause, and clank his hands
together like a pair of cymbals, and laugh.?
And once, jus 1 was passing along, he pounced
out upon mo, and whirled me round in a waltz,
roaring at ine when he let me down, to practise
that and break my embroidery frame. Ho
formed a band of horns and trumpets, and in- >
sisted on the goatherds and shepherds sounding
reveilles in the mountains, and the village children
beating drums, his only idea of joy aud
' happiness was noise. He set all the the canton
j to work to mend the bridge, paying the work*
I men double wages; and ho,who never entered
' a church before, would go to see how the labor!
ers were getting on nearly every day. He talkI
ed and laughed a great deal to himself; and in his
I jnii-nfit nl' liunrt ivnnlfi cof l!io mnfttifla' Kuriltilltr
IB". VV vl *" v ?o
and make his excursions from home?we knowI
ing not where lie went At last, Amelie was
summoned to his presence, and he shook her
and shouted, then kissed her: and hoping sho
would he a good girl, told her he had provided
a good husband for ho.'. Amelie wept mid
prayed, ami the master capered and sung. At
last she fainted; and taking advantage of her
unconciousness, he conveyed her to tiie chapel;
and there beside the alter stood the bridegroom
?im other than Charles Le Malt re.
"They lived many happy years together; and
when monsieur was in every respect a better,
though still a strange man, 'the remme Noir*
appeared again to him?once. She did so with
a placid air, on a summer night, with her arm
extended towards the heavens,
"The next day the mufliod bull told the vaN
ley that the stormy, proud old muster of Roliouu
hud ceased to lived.
A Bbttbr Man than his Bkothhk.?Tho
following story is true in every particular,
strange as it may seem. On Thursday lust a
wedding party arrived from the country, consisting
of the bride and groom, the brother of
the latter, nod several friends. They put up at
one of our public houses, and in t'no evening,
1 the preliminaries having been all settled; and
I tho c.lergvtuau in attendance, tho ceremonies
aliow to begin, when the groom manifested
some dissatisfaction, The brido perceiving this
and being high spirited, showed as much independence
as the lover In the midst of the confusion
which ensued, the bridegroom's brother
stepped tip to the bride awl said, "since ?
won't marrv yon, I'll have you myself, if you
have no objecticns."
"None in the least," said the bride, "I always
took you for a better man than your brother,
and I am now fully oonvinoed of it."
The k'<ot was ul once tied, and much gratification
was expressed at the finale of* the afiair.
Philadelphia Spirit of the Times.
(ioon.-r-rA Gorman writer observes, in a re?
ccntvolumo on the social condition of Great
Britain : "There is such a scarcity of thiovys
in England, that they are obliged to offer a
reward for their discover^,''
\