Newspaper Page Text
j&taraton Spwfatmr. i
RICHARD MAUZY, Editor & Proprietor.
[gj«F* The "Spectator" is published once a week, at
Two Dollars and Fifty Cents a year, which may be dis
charged by the payment of Two Dollars at any time
within the year.
No subscription will be discontinued but at the option
of th* Editoi , until all arrearages are paid.
AD VERTISEMENTS of ten lines (or less) inserted
once for one dollar, and twenty-Jive cents for each subse
quent continuance. Larger advertisements inserted in
the same proportion.
A liberal discount made to those who advertise by tlie
U3p r Annual advertisers vfiU be limited to their im
mediate business, or the advertisements charged for at
Professional Caros, not exceeding seven lines, will
be inserted one year for $7 00—6 months for $4 00.
One Square, (10 lines) .. 1 year $10 00
« •« 6 months 6 00
« « 3 " 4 00
Two Sq-abb5...... I year 15 00
« «' § months 10 00
« » 3 '• 600
Three Squares, 1 year 18 00
« •« b months 12 00
" •< 3 " 800
One-Third Column, 1 year 25 00
*« " Qmonths 18 00
«' " 3 " 1200
One Column, 1 year 60 00
AU advertising for a less time than three tnontlts, will
be c/iarged for at the u*ual rates—%\ 00 per square for
the first insertion, and twenty five cent* for each subse
Western Virginia *
MARBLE WORKS, m i
AT STAUNTON |_| II
HARRISONBURG. |f_l __i
IAIQOIB & KELLEY. __H§
Staunton, April 7, 1858.
TAYLOR & HOGE,
DRY GOODS, GROCERIES,
QUEENSWARE, HATS, CAPS,
BOOTS AND SHOES,
HAVE just received a very large and handsome
stock of FALL AND WINTER GOODS, to
which they invite the attention of purchasers.
Staunton, Oct. 9,1860.
DR. W. B. YOUNGK
DRUGS, MEDICINES, PAINTS,
OILS, DYE-STUFFS, CHEMICALS, BURNING
FL HID, DA G UERREO TYPE MA TERI
ALS, ALL KINDS TOILET AND
, y ALSO, COAL OIL AND LAMPS,
Staunton, July 19, 1859.
R. JAMBS JOHNSTON, SURGICAL _t
MECHANICAL DENTIST, having been located
permanently in Staunton for the last four years, would
respectfully inform his friends and the public gene
rally, that he still continues to practice Dentistry,in all
its various branches, with the strictest regard to du
rability and usefulness.
Office on the south-side of Main Street opposite the
old Spectator Office.
Staunton, Nov. 29,1854.
«. €. JTEAKLE,
JL WATCHES, CLOCKS, JEWEL-ggl
,£•___ BY, SILVER AND Jf j
mam PELTED WjtUE, ™
OPPOSITE VA. HOTEL, STAUNTON, VA.
Staunton, July 17,1860.
WIH. B. JOHNSON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS.
WILL attend to the location, purchase and sale of
Lands in Arkansas, and any other business
pertaining to his profession in that State, and in
/-Memphis, Term. May be found until the 15th of Oc
tobea at the office of David S. Young, or the residence
of N. P. Cadett, Staunton, Va.
Oct. 2, lis6U—ly.
J. M. HANGER
ATTORNEY AT LAW, STAUNTON, VA.,
WILL practice in all the Courts held in Staunton,
and in the Circuit Courts of Albemarle and
ckingham. Office in the brick-row, in the rear of
Staunton, Dec. 30,1857.
JEWELRY, CLOCKS, WATCHES, &c,
Main St., Staunton, Va.
Jjg"* Watches and Jewelry Repaired.
Staunton, Jan.l 7.
DOCTOR JAMES R. GILKESON-Having
located in Staunton, tenders his professionalser
vices to the public. He may be found, when not pro
essionally engaged, at the room over the Saddle and
Harness establishment of Mr. G. H. Elick, nearly op
posite the Post Office.
Staunton Feb. 8.1859—tf.
A. D. CHANDLER,
-T7-EEPS METALIC CASES of all sizes, at Staun
1_ ton and Millborougb Depot, at City Prices.
Staunton, July 19, 1859.
ROBERT D. LILLEY,
WILL attend promptly to Surveying, Platting*
Calculating and Dividing Lund, and Locating
StKunton, June 26, iB6O.
R. L. DOYLE,
Attorney at Law, Staunton, Va.,
WILL practice in the Courts of Augusta, Rock
bridge, Hath and Highland.
July 29, 1857.
ENTAL NOTICE Wm. Chapman has re
moved his office to the old Bell Tavern, near the
Virginia Hotel, and opposite Brandeburg's Corner,
and adjoining Rankin's Daguerrean Gallery, where he
will be pleased to see his friends and costomers.
Staunton, Jan. 31,1860.
&__'___ AAA IN CASH FOR NE-
GROES!—I will pay the Jf»
highest market prices for sound and healthy *E5
NEGROES. My long experience in the busi- Jk
ness, and my facilities for selling will enable ■ ■*■ ■
me to pay the vbky highkst prices.
I wish to employ some'good AGENTS to buy Ne
groes. I want business men of good moral habits.
Persons wishing to sell will find it to their interest
to call on me by letter or otherwise, at Waynesboro',
Augusta county, Virginia. JOHN B. SMITH.
August 14. 1860—<jmo.*
W~~ ANTED.—IOOO young aud likely NE- Jf§
GROES, of both sexes, for the Southern 1*
market. Tbe highest cash prices will be paid Jh
for them. ____■
Address WILLIAM TAYLOR.
July 17.—tf.—Vin. copy. Brownsburg, Va.
PLASTER.— The Staunton Steam Mill having
been repaired and put in working order, farmers
can now get supplies of GROUND PLASTER in any
desired quantities. E. T. ALBERTSON, Sup't.
Staunton. June 5, 1860.
LOOK HERE !—The undersigned have receiv
ed a large lot of MILLER'S CASSIMERES
which will be sold at a reasonable rate.
MOSBY. MAYLOR k FULTZ.
Staunton. Sept. 25,1860.
MILL IKONS, MACHINERY AND ALL
kinds of Castings made to order at the Staunton
Foundry, by A. J. GARBER A CO.
Sep. 13, 1859.
STATIONERY.— I am now receiving a superior
stock of Stationery, which for quality and cheap
ness cannot be surpassed in Staunton.
Staunton. Oct, 23, 1860. L. B. WALLER.
HOOFLAND'S GERMAN BITTERS, and
all kinds of Patent Medicines, for sale by
DR. H. 8. EICHELBERGER.
w Staunton, April 8, 1860.
BON RAILING— A variety of patterns, for
Yards, Ceroet / .oti, Ac, made to order at the
Staunton Foundry. A. J. GARBER k CO.
Slept. 13, 1859
LOAKING CLOTHS can be found at
PIPER k FUNKHOUSER'S.
Staunton. Oct. 9, 1860.
COAL OIL LAMPS.—A large assortment at
P. H. TROUT A CO.
Staunton, Oct. 2,1860.
EMENT.—BO bbls. "Rosendale" Cement.
TAYLOR k HOGE.
Staunton, Oct. 9, 1860.
OOTSTaND SHOES.—SOO pair Boots and
Shoes for sale cheap by TAYLOR A HOGE.
Oct 9, IStiO.
SALT.— 2w Sacks Ashton and Marshall's Fine
Salt, jnst received by TAYLOR A HOGE.
Staunton, Oct. 9,1860.
/gto> PERRY DAVB'
We ask the attention of the public to this
long' tested and unrwaUed
It has been favorably known for more
than twenty years, during which time we
have received ilixxiL&aJticLi. of testimonials,
showing- this J&edicine to be an almost
never-failing remedy for diseases caused by
or attendant upon —
Sudden Colds, Coughs, Fever and figue,
Headache, F-ilious Fever, <Pains in the
Side, Ifack, and Loins, as well as in the
Joints and Limbs; c and.
S3UL£Jurnja±Lc -ZFcluiA in any part of
the system, Toothache and (Pains in the
Head and Face.
fis a /sJcjcjcL jOPiLtLfiLeji- and gjfanlc
for the £ffnrrjnrfi } it seldom fails to cure
(Dyspepsia, Indigestion, Liver Complaint,
Jlcid Stomach, Heartburn, Kidney Com
plaints, gfick. (Piles, fisth
ma or (Phthisic, Ringworms, F,oils, Felons,
Whit-lows, Old Sores, Swelled Joints, and
&£ehilitu. of the gft^stem..
It is also a prompt and sure Remedy for
Cramp and (Pain in the Stomach, (Painters'
Colic, <2HLcLtfitijO£a- f (Dysentery, gfum.-
ntefi /@amfLLaln±, Cholera J&orbus, Chol
era Infantum, Scalds, P>urns, Sprains,
Piruises, Frost Pdtes, Chilblains, as well
as the Stings of Insects, Scorpions, Cen
tipedes, and the P>ites of (Poisonous Insects
and Venomous I(eptiles.
See Directions accompanying each bottle.
It has been tested in every variety of
climate, and by almost nxLtLan.
fencuutn. to JZmericans. It is the almost
constant companion and inestimable friend
of the triLs.a.LanjctHi. and the tMuellet-,
— or. sea and land, — and no one should
travel on our lakes or rivers without it.
Prices, 1* cts, 25 cts., 50 cts, and $1.00 per Bottle.
PERRY DAVIS & SON,
MANUFACTURERS AND PROPRIETORS*
PROVIDENCE, B, I.
Sold by dealers every wherat
Sept. 11, 1860.
PLAIN AND ORNAMENTAL
OF EVERY VA-REETY,
EXECUTED WITH NEATNESS _ DESPATCH
JOB PRINTING ESTABLISHMENT,
Stone Building, Augusta St.,
LARGE STOCK~OF JOB TYPE!
GREAT VARIETY OF NEW A FANCY TYPE!
BRONZE _6 COLORED PRINTING!
will be done in a style equal to the best City Work.
HAVING made a large addition to the "Spkctator
Job Office," it is now one of the best in the
State, and alt varieties of Job Work can be done in
the very best and most satisfactory manner on very
J_f" It is furnished with a great variety of new and
__f~ We are now prepared to execute all kinds of
Printing, such as
Posters, Sale Bills, Blanks, Circulars,
School Reports, Cards, Checks,
Motes, Letter Heads,
Cards, Wedding Cards, Invitations <&c,
in the very best style, on moderate terms.
RLANKS. —Clerks, Sheriffs, Lawyers, Consta
bles, Merchants, and business men generally, are re
spectfully informed that every kind of Blank they
may need can be had, at the shortest notice, at the
jgp"Send in your orders and they will be promptly
" GROVER & BAKER'S
THE undersigned Clergymen of various denomina
tions, having purchased and used in our families
"GROVER A BAKER'S CELEBRATED FAMILY
SEWING- MACHINE," take pleasure in recommend
ing it as an instrument fully combining the essentials
of a good machine. Its beautiful simplicity, ease of
management, and the strength and elasticity of its
stitch, unite to render it a machine unsurpassed by
any in the market, and one which we feel confident
will give satisfaction to all who purchase and use it:
Rev. W. H. LANEY, Baltimore, Md.,
Rev. 0. H. TIFFANY, D. D.,
Rev. C. J. BOWEN, "
Rev. JONA CROSS,
Rev. JOHN McCRON, D. D., "
Rev. W T. D. CLEMM,
Rev. W. H. CHAPMAN,
Rev. F. S. EVANS, "
Rev. R. C. GALBRATH, Govanstown Md.,
Rev. J. McK. REILEY, Frederick, Md.,
Rev. T. E. LOCKE, Westmoreland co., Va.,
Rev. W. A. CROCKER, Norfolk, Va.,
Rev. JOHN PARIS,
Rev. J. F- LANNEAU, Salem, Va.
Rev. C. HANKEL, D.,D , Charleston, S. C.
Rev. C. A. LOYAL, »
Rev. A. A. PORTER, Selma, Ala.
Rev. J. J T WISE, Speedwell, S. C.
Rev. B. B. ROSS, Mobile, Ala.
Rev. J. L. MICHAUX, Enfield, N. C.
Rev. A. C. HARRIS, Henderson, N. C.
Rev. C. F. HARRIS, -
Office of Exhibition and Sale
181 BALTIMORE ST., BALTIMORE.
|_F*SEND FOR A CIRCDLAR. _^|
MAIN STREET. CHARLOTTESVILLE, VA.
FREY & ROBINSON
HAVE opened a Store on Main St., (old Post Of-
where they will keep for sale, PIANOS,
FLUTES', VIOLINS, GUITARS, BANJOS, SHEET
MUSIC, STATIONERY, ENGRAVINGS, _c, ___~
and respectfully solicit the patronage of their friends
and the public generally.
PIAJVOS.—Our stock of Pianos is selected princi
pally from the well known and most reliable factory
of NUNS k CLARK, New York, whose instruments
have never been surpassed in tone and durability
since their establishment commenced operations
(thirty-five years ago.) We have made arrangements
with other Factories for supplying us with Pianos, oc
casionally retaining thejprivilege, however, of return
ing them, if found unworthy our recommendation. —
Persons purchasing from us, therefore, will never run
any risk, as we have determined to sell only good in
struments, on most reasonable terms.
SHEET MUSIC.-A great variety of the latest
publications constantly on hand. Instruction books
for all instruments. The usual deduction made in sup
pi ving Schools and Music Teachers. Arthur's Pat
ent Elastic Music Portfolios. Music sent by mail.
Orders from the country, promptly attended to.
C. T. FREY, Prof, of Music.
Ayer's Ague Cure.
DE FORREST ARMSTONG. & CO.
DRY ««001>« MERCHANTS,
80 _ 82 Chambers St., N. V.,
Would notify the Trade that they are opening
weekly, in new and beautiful patterns, fthe
Wamsutta Prints, also the Amoskeag, a New Print,
wnich excels every Print in tbe Country for perfec
tion of execution and design in full Madder Colors.
Our Prints are cheaper than any in market, and meet
ing with extensive sale. Orders promptly attended
Jan. 81, ISPQ—Iy
YRUF.—2O bbls. Molasses and Syrup.
TAYLOR A HOGE.
Staunton, Oct. 9,1860. \
STAUNTON, VIRGINIA, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1860.
The wind came blowing out of the West,
And Jimmy mowed the hay;
The wind came blowing out of tbe West—
It stirred the green leaves out of their rest,
And rocked the blue-bird up in his nest,
As Jimmy mowed the hay.
The swallows skimmed along the ground,
And Jimmy mowed the hay;
The swallows skimmed along the ground.
And rustling leaves made a pleasant sound,
Like the children babbling all around,
And Jimmy mowed the hay.
Milly came with her bucket by,
And Jimmy mowed the hay;
Milly came with her bucket by,
With her light foot so trim and sly,
And sunburnt cheek and laughing eye—
And Jimmy mowed the bay.
A rustic Ruth in linsey gown—
And Jimmy mowed the hay;
A rustic Ruth in linsey gown,
He watched her soft cheeks changing brown,
And the long dark lash that trembled down
Whenever he looked that way.
Oh! Milly's heart was as good as gold—
And Jimmy mowed the hay.
Oh, Milly's heart was as good as gold;
But Jimmy thought her shy and cold,
And more he thought than e'er he told,
As Jimmy mowed the hay.
The rain came pattering down amain—
And Jimmy mowed the hay;
The rain came pattering down amain,
And under the thatch ot the laden train,
Jimmy and Milly, a cunning twain,
Sat sheltered by the hay.
The merry rain-drops hurried in,
Under the thatch of hay ;
The merry rain-drops hurried in,
And laughed and pattered in a din,
Over that which they saw within,
Under the thatch of hay.
For Milly nestled to Jimmy's breast,
Under the thatch of hay;
For Milly nestled to Jimmy's breast,
Like a wild bird fluttering in its nest,.
And then I'll swear she looked her best
Under the thatch of hay.
And when the sun came laughing out
Over the ruined hay;
And when the sun came laujrhing out
Milly had ceased to pet and pout,
And the twittering birds began to shout,
As if for a wedding day.
From the ComhUl Monthly.
KATE YALE'S MARRIAGE.
"If ever I marry," Kate Yale used to say, half
in jest, bait in earnest, "tbe happy man—or tbe
unhappy one, if you please, ha! ha!—shall be a
person possessed of these three qualifications:
"First, a fortune.
"Second, good looks.
"Third, common sense."
"I mention the fun one first, because I think
it the most needful and desirable qualification
of tbe three. Although I never could think of
marrying a fool, ur a man whose ugliness I
should be ashamed of, still I think to talk sense
tor the one, and shine for tbe other witb plenty
ot money, would be preferable to living obscure
witb a handsome, intellectual man—to whom
economy might be necessary."
I do not know bow much of this sentiment
came from Kate's heart. She undoubtedly in
dulged iv lotty ideas of station and style—for her
education in tbe duties and aims ot life bad been
deficient, or rather erroneous; but that she was
capable of deeper, better feelings, none ever
doubted who bad obtained even a partial glimpse
of ber true woman's nature.
And the time arrived when Kate was to take
that all-important step of which she bad often
spoken so lightly—when 6he was to detnonstra.e
to her friends how much of ber heart was in tbe
words we have just qaoted.
At tbe enchanting age of eighteen she bad
many suitors, but as she never gave a serious
thongbt to more than two, we will follow ber
example, aud, discarding all others except those
favored ones, consider 'heir relative claims.
If this were any other than a true story, I
should certainly use an artist's privilege, and
aim to produce an effect by making a strong
contrast between tbe two favored individuals.—
If I could have my own way, one should be a
poor genius and something ot a hero; the other
a wealthy fool and somewhat ot a knave.
But the trutti is—
Our poor genius was not much of a genius—
not very poor, either. He was by profession a
teacher of music, aud be could live very com
fortably by the exercise thereof—without the
most distant hope, however, of ever attaining to
wealth. Moreover, Francis Minot possessed ex
cellent qualities, which entitled bim to be called
by elderly people a "fine character," by his
companion?, a "noble good fellow," and by the
ladies generally, a "darling."
Kate could not help loving Mr. Frank, and he
knew it. He was certain she preferred his so
oiety even to that of Mr. Wellington, whom
alone be saw fit to honor with tbe appellation of
This Mr. Wellington, (bis companions called
bim "Duke,") was no idiot or humpback, as I
could have wished b.m to be, in order to make
a good story. On tbe contrary, be was a man
of sense, good looks and fine manners, and there
was nothing of tbe knave about bim, as I could
Beside this, bis income was sufficient to ena
ble bim to live superbly. Also, he was con
sidered two or three degrees handsomer than
Mr. Frank Minot.
Therefore, tbe only thing on which Frank bad
to depend was the power be possessed over
Kate's sympathies and affections. Tbe "Duke,"
although just tbe man for ber iv every sense,
being blessed witb a fortune, good looks and
common-sense—had never been able to draw
these out, and tbe amiable, conceited Mr. Frank,
was not willing to believe tbat she would sutler
mere worldly considerations to control tbe as
pirations of tbe heart.
However, oae day, when be pressed her to
declare bis fate, she said to bim witb a sigh:
"Oh, Frank ! I am sorry we ever met!"
"Yes; for we must part now."
"Part!" repeated Frank, turning pale. It
was evident be bad not expected this.
"Yes—yes," said Kate, casting down her bead
witb another piteous sigb.
Frank sat by ber side; be placed bis arm a
round ber waist, without heeding ber feeble re
sistance; he lowered bis voice, aud talked to her
until she—proud Kate—wept bitterly.
"Katie," said he, then, witb a burst of pas
sion, '"I know you love me; but you are proud,
ambitious, selfish! Now, if )ou would have me
leave you, say tbe word and I go."
"Go!" murmured Kate, "go."
"Have you decided ?'' whispered Frank.
"Tben, love, farewell."
He took ber baud, gazed a moment tenderly
and sorrowfully, into ber beautiful, tearful face,
and then clasped her to bis bosons.
She permitted tbe embrace. She even gave
way to the impulse, aud twined her arms around
his neck ; but iv a moment ber resolution came
to ber aid, and she pushed him from ber witb a
"Shall I go?" be asked.
A feeble yes fell from her lips—and an instant
later she was lying on tbe sofa, sobbing and
To tear tbe tenacious root of love ont of ber
heart had cost her more than she could have an
ticipated, and tbe certainty of a golden life of
luxury proved but a poor consolation, it seemed
for tbe sacrifice she bad made.
She lay long upon the sofa, I say, sobbing and
weeping passionately. Gradually her grief ap
peared to exbanst itself. Her tears ceased to
flow, and at leDgth her eyes and oheeks were
dry. Her bead was pillowed ou her arm, and
her faoc was half bidden in a flood of curls.
The struggle was over. The agony was past.
She saw Mr. Wellington enter, and rose cheer
fully to meet him. His manners pleased ber—
his station and fortune fascinated her more. He
offered ber bis hand—she accepted it. A kiss
sealed the enagagement—but it was not such a
kiss as Frank had given her, and she could scarce
repress a sigh!
There was a magnifi .ent wedding. Splendidly
attired, dazzling the eye with her beauty thus
adorned, with everything around swimming in
the charmed atmosphere of a fairy-laud, Kate
gave her heart to tbe man her ambition—not her
But certainly ambition oould not have made a
better choice. Already she saw herself sur
rounded by a magnificent court, of which she
was tbe acknowledged an_:_dtnired queen. The
favors of fortune were showered upon ber, she
floated luxuriously upon tbe smooth and glassy
wave of a charmed life.
Nothing was wanted in the whole circle of ber
existence to adorn it, and make it bright witb
happiness. But she was not loDg in discover
ing tbat there was something wanting in her
Her friends were numerous, ber husband ten
der and kind and loving; but all the attention
and affections could not fill ber heart. She had
once felt its chord and sympathy moved by a
skillful touch—she had not known tbe heavenly
charm of the deep, del cious harmony, and now
tbey were silent—motionless, mufflled so as to
speak in silks and satius. These chords were
still and soundless. Her heart was dead; none
the less so because kilkd by a golden shot, hav
ing known and felt tbe life of sympathy in it,
uaconsoled by the life of luxury. Iv short,
Kate in time became magnificently miserable,
Then a change became apparent to her bos
band. He could not remain long blind to tbe
fact tbat his love was not returned. He sought
tbe oompany of those whose gayety might lead
bim to forget the sorrow and despair of his soul.
This shallow joke, however, was unsatisfactory,
and impelled by a powerful longing for love, be
went astray to warm his heart witb a strange
Kate Baw herself now in tbe midst of a gor
geous desolation, burning witb a thirst uncon
querable by golden streams tbat flowed around
ber—panting with a hunger which not all the
food ot flattery and admiratiou could appease.
She reproached her husband for deserting ber
thus, aud be answered her witb angry and des
perate taunts of deception, and a total lack of
love, which smote her conscience heavily.
"You do not care for me," be cried, "then
why do you complain tLat I bestow elsewhere
tbe affection you have met with coldness?"
"But it is wrong—sinlul," Kate remonstrated.
"Yes, I know it," said her husband, fiercely.
"It is the evil fruit of an evil seed. And who
sowed tbat seed ? Who gave me a hand with
out a heart? Who became a sharer ot my for
tune, but gave me no share in ber sympathy?—
Who devoted ma to tbe fate of a loving, unloved
husband? Nay, do not weep, and clasp your
bands, aud sigh and sob with such desperation,
for I say nothing yon do not deserve to hear."
"Very well," said Kate, "I do not say your
reproaches are undeserved. But, granting lam
the cold, deceit.ul thing you call me, you know
this state of things cannot continue."
"Yes, I know it."
Mr. Wellington's brow gathered darkly—bis
eyes flashed with determination; hi* lips curled
"I have made up my mind," ' said be, "that
we should not live together any longer. I am
tired of being called tbe husband of the splendid
Mrs. Wellington. I will move iv my circle; yon
shall -_iue iv yours. I will place no restraint
on your actions, nor shall you on mine. We
will be free."
"But tbe world!" shrieked poor Kate, trem
"The world will admire you tbe same; and
what more do you desire ?" asked ber husband,
bitterly. "This marriage of hands and not of
hearts is mockery. We have played the farce
long enough. Few understand the true meaning
of the terms husband and wile; but do you
know what tbey should mean ? Do you feel tbat
tbe only true union is that ot love aud sympa
thy ? Then enough of this mummery. Fare
well. Igo to consult friends about the terms of
separation. Nay, do not tremble and cry, and
cling to me now ; I shall be liberal to you. As
much of my fortune snail be yours as you de
Ho pushed her from him. She fell upon the
sofa. From a heart torn with anguish she
"Frank! Frank! why did I send you from
me? Why was I blind until sight brought me
She lay upon the sofa, sobbing and weeping
passionately. Gradually ber grief appeared to
exhaust itself; ber breathing became calm ; ber
eyes and cheeks dry; ber head lay peacefully on
ber arm, over which swept her dishevelled
tresses, until wilh a start she cried :
"Frank! oh Frank! come back!"
"Here I am," said a solt voice by her side.
She raised her head. She opened her aston
ished eyes. Frank was standing beside ber.
"You have been asleep," he said, smiling
"And dreaming, too, I should say; not pleas
"Dreaming!" murmured Kate, "and is it all
a dream ?"
"I hope so," replied Frank, taking her band.
"You could not mean to send me away from
you so cruelly, I knew. So I waited in your
father's study, where I have been talking witb
him all of an hour. I came back to plead my
oause witb you once more, and I found you here
where I left you, asleep."
"Oh! what a horrible dream!" murmured
Kate, rubbing bor eyes. "It was so like a ter
rible reality tbat I shudder now to think of it.—
I thought I was married !"
"And would tbat be so horrible?" asked
Frank. "I hope, then, you did not dream you
were married to me?"
"No, I thought I gave my band without my
"Then, if you gave your hand, it would not
be without your heart?''
"No, Frank," said Kate, and her bright eyes
were beaming happily through her tears, "and
here it is!"
And soon there was a real marriage— not a
splendid, but a happy one —followed by a life of
love, of contentment; and tbat was the mar
riage of Frank Minor and Kate Yale.
Night brings out stars, as sorrow shows us :
truth. We never see the stars till we can see
little or naught else, and thus it is with truth.
A lady sometimes keeps charms upon her
watch-guard, but it is more important tbat she
keep watch and guard upon ber charms.
Good dinners have a harmonizing influence.—
Few disputes are so largo that tbey cannot be
covered witb a table cloth.
Wonderful.—A teacher of penmanship, in
twelve lessons, taught a lawyer to read bis own
It is not the multitude of applauses, but the
good sense of tbe applauders, which gives value
Theory may bo all very well; but young doc
tors and lawyers prefer practice.
Tbe grace which makes every other grace
amiable is humility.
Conversation is tbe ventilation of tbe mind.
A Love Story.
BY BELLA DUNBAR.
They plighted their vows beside the silver
singing fountain—Claud Vincent and Lillian
May—with tbe drooping foliage whispering
above their beads, and tbe brilliant stars flashing
upon them a burning light. Sitting thus in tbe
dim, cool beauty of that starry eve. Claud Vin
cent breathed into Lillian's willing ear tbe story
of his love; then, bending down till his glossy
curls swept her silken tresses, he pressed a
lover's kiss upon her pure brow.
"List!" suddenly exclaimed Lillian, as the
vines near them rustled and shook loudly.
"A false alarm, dear Lillian," said Claud; "it
was nothing but tbe wind playing amid the
Nothing hut the wind / Ah ! he saw not the
wbite face and dark eyes tbat gleamed a moment
through the dark thick vines, and then was
In a splendid apartment, Alda Dunmore is
rapidly pacing tbe floor; her rich dress of crim
son silk is damp with the dew of night; and,
tearing the gems from ber breast, she crushes
tbem beneath her feet. Her long black hair falls
in disheveled masses over her shoulders. Pas
sionately she muttered to herself:
"What care I for costly gems or ricbes, if a
dependent cousin wins from me tha only man I
can ever love ?" And, stamping her foot angrily,
she cries: "No ! no ! it shall never be, even
though I have to murder her!" and the words
were hissed from between ber pale lips.
Turning, she saw herself reflected in a large
mirror opposite. Could it be possible ?—such a
change in so short a time! She went to the
window, and then opened the shutters. The
soft evening wind cooled her acbing brow, and
the calm sky above was smiling upon her; but
_he heeded it not. Tbe murmur of distant
voices came to ber, wafted upon tbe scented
breeze. It was Claud Vincent taking leave of
"I shall be gone a week, and then I shall has
ten back to claim my promised bride."
She heard tbe ball door close, and Lillian came
lightly up the stairs.
How lovely she looked as she entered the
rooml Even Alda could not but acknowledge
it. There glistened no diamonds from amid tbe
snowy folds of ber white silk robe. Tbe red
roses that looped her sleeves, and the bnds tbat
were twined in her suDny curls were ber only
; ornaments. By her side, upon a marble stand,
stood a silver goblet, and taking it up, she drain
ied the contents. Tben, seating herself upon the
sofa, she sat gazing dreainingly at Alda, wbo,
still seated at the window, pretended not to no
"I will not tell her to-night," thought Lillian.
Musing thus, a drowsiness came over her—a
heavy lauguor which weighed down her eyelids
—and she sank back insensible upon tbe crimson
A pang of something like regret shot through
Alda's heart, as she bent over ber and bathed
tbe blue veined temples.
"But why should I pity her?—has she not
won the love which I would have given all I
possess for ?" she murmured.
At last Lillian slowly unclosed her eyes, riv
eting an unnatural gaze upon Alda. Her fore
head throbbed with a burning fever; she was
delirious, and incoherent words fell from her
All night Alda watched beside ber. Morning
found her still there; but Lillian was more quiet
now ; and, passing ber band over her forehead,
"Ah! 'twill be safe to call a physician now."
A physician came; but there was a grave
look upon his countenance, as he noticed the
burning cheeks of tbe patient. However, be
gave a few directions to Alda.
"It is a singular case. I fear we cannot do
much for ber," be said, gravely shaking his
bead, as Alda and ber father followed bim from
Deep anxiety was depicted upon the face of
Mr. Dunmore, as be listened; for he had loved
tbe orphan Lillian as if she were his own, ever
since bis dying sister bad entreated bim to be a
father to her only child.
And faithfully bad be fulfilled his promise ;
and Lillian bad repaid bim all tbe love and grat
itude which was in her gentle nature. He bad
watched with delight tbe growing intimacy be
tween Lillian and Claud, little dreaming of its
effects upon Alda.
Three days have passed away. The room
where Lillian lies is darkened. It is tbe crisis
of tbe fever, and all is silent in the stately man
sion. Who shall know the burning tbonghts
tbat pass in Alda's mind ? No one can read
tbem ; no one can look into the secret depths ot
ber heart and see its stain of murder 1
Tbe crisis is past, and in the splendid coffin is
laid a beaatiful corpse, ready to be borne to the
silent tomb, tor tbe form of sweet Lillian is clad
in tbe habiliments of the grave.
Claud was detained loDger than expected, and
arrived home the day after Lillian died.
"Now I will hasten to my Lillian," he said, as
be sprang lightly from tbe cars. But his atten
tion was arrested by two gentiemen who were
"Shall you attend the funeral to-morrow ?"
"Who is dead?" said the other.
"Why, Lillian Glen, the niece of
He did not finish. There was a heavy fall on
the pavemeut beside them, and Claud Vincent
was borne into tbe nearest bouse insensible.
"This way, sir," said the servant, as be ush
ered Claud into tbe darkened room where bis
Lillian Lay. His proud lorm staggered as be
approached the coffin. Witb trembling hands
he drew the cloth from ber face.
"Ob, God !" be grasped, "can this be death ?"
Her lips were parted, as if smiliDg, and the
tiny lashes seamed trembling as they rested on
tbe ivory cheeks.
"No, no, she is not dead ?" he cried, in an
guish. "I cannot, will not, give her up!"
But why tbat start? He surely felt her
breath upon his cheek as he bends over her.—
He pressed his hand upon her heart—there was
a faint beating.
"She is not dead ! She breathes—she lives!"
be aimost shrieked.
Alda, who bad just entered tbe room, stood
colorless and immovable as marble; but Claud's
cry bad rang through tbe mansion, and others
came, bringing restoratives to call her back to
life. At last a taint color tinged cheek and lip.
The large violet eyes slowly unclosed, and met
the dark ones bending over ber so earnestly.
Merrily, merrily, pealed out tbe silver-toned
chapel bells. Soft, calm and holy floated tbe
dim silver light within. The moonbeams gleam
ing through the window rested like a golden
halo upon tbe head of the fair young bride,
whose tiny hand rests so confidingly in that ot
the proud mau at ber side. She is pale and del
icate yet, but tbe love-lit eyes grew brightly and
j her flushed cheeks wear the hue of tbe roses
which strew the altar. Claud, too, shows bow
much, how very much he has suffered, but in
deep joy all is forgotten now. Tbe few guests
look on in silent admiration. Alda is not there.
It is whispered that no sane light gleams from
her eyes. Alda is a maniac. The wedding ring
already sparkles on the slender finger of Lillian;
and tbe wbite-baired minister baa just raised bis
bandß to pronounce the final benediction, when,
with a wild cry, Alda rushed toward the altar,
and with a gold stiletto aimed a blow at tbe
heart ot the bride; but a strong arm warded off
tbe blow, as witb a phrenzied cry, Alda fled
from the chapel; far, far away from ber pur
suers she bouuded, like tbe wind; then suddenly
pausing on the brink of the dark river, ber long
hair floated on the breeze, and turning ber
gleaming eyes, while a wild laugb resounded
through tbe air, she sprang into tbe dark waters,
but a daring band caught tbe light dress, and
drew her from ber watery grave. Her black
hair fell dripping over her neck and shoulders,
while a triumphant smile seemed to bang upon
ber lips. The moon drew behind a cloud, cash
ing a sadder shade upon the face of the corpse
and tbe dark forms bending over her.
Far the Spectator.
Dear Spectator: —Not long since I spent a
most pleasant week in your county, and as a
few notes were taken during my visit I have
concluded to give you and your readers the ben
efit ol them.
Like most strangers who visit "old Augusta"
I wished to see Weyer's Cave and the Old Stone
Church. It was early in the week when I vis
ited the Church, yet I found a good congrega
tion convened to witness the opening exercises
of the Lexington Presbytery, consequently I de
ferred visiting the Cave for a few days, and
spent the time attending the meeting held from
day to day in this venerable and time honored
house of God. Mr. See, of Tinkling Spring, a
young and talented minister, presided as mod
erator. Among the older ministers of this
body I observed the beloved Dr. McFarland,
and that lovely and zealous man of God, Dr.
Wm. S. White, of Lexington; also Rev. Samuel
Brown, evidently one of the best and most mod
est members of the body. I am informed that
in years past his facile pen furnished your col
umns with several pleasing and instructive com
Among the Elders I noticed Maj. Overton, of
the V. M. I. lie entered heartily into the de
liberations, and he evidently knew what be
was about in all he attempted to say and do.
The pastor of tbe church, Dr. William Brown,
aided by his accomplished lady, made all feel
heartily welcome to the hospitalities of his
charge. When the Presbytery was about to
adjourn, alter passing a very complimentary
vote of thanks, the pastor facetiously bid tbem
farewell in terms familiar to every minister's
ear —"Now doa'c make it too long before yon
One morning, during the sessions of this body,
I visited tbe grave yard, in company with seve
ral others. As we slowly walked along, ad
miring the vistas of unrivaled beauty opening
up everywhere before us, it was interesting to
conjecture that Speece and Baxter enjoyed ma
ny each ir.ornii.gs as this while tbey preached
in this valley, aud were inspired by the exquis
ite loveliness of scenes like these, to give ex
pression to their rapturous conceptions of tbe
heavenly world; whither they allured their
people and led the way. There was something
touching in the thought that among .he scenes
of other days, portrayed by memory upon tbe
imagination of tbe Blind Preacher, perhaps tbe
most beautiful was a morning scene like this,
and in his blindness it enabled bim to feel the
meaniog of words like these:
"There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign ;
Infinite day excludes the nigiit,
And pleasures banish pain."
Of the maDy graves we visited, one possessed
associations ot special interest for me, for it is
the grave ot a friend who is fondly remembered
by me. Ia olher days we were classmates and
rivals at college. But onr rivalry on his part
was of that pure and elevated character, that it
seemed to intensify our friendship. In one
branch of our studies I felt aud acknowledged
him to be my superior, and I frequently asked
bim for assistance, which seemed to afford him
pleasure to give me, such was bis magnanimity.
"We otten spent our sabbath mornings togeth
er, after a week of intense study, and passed tbe
interval between chapel service and public wor
ship io singing, reading aud conversation. On
one of the last interviews of this character, ot
which I now retain a distinct recollection, he
called my attention to tbe Orphan's Prayer,
which we sung together. He could sing it un
derstandiugiy too, as his own dear mother bad
long been in ber grave. We never met after
our separation at college, and I beard from bim
but seldom. He had high aspirations; be toil
ed day and night to realize bis hopes and noble
aims; but iv doing so 1 fear be tasked bis pow
ers too severely ; aud ere the day of bis lite had
near reached the meridian he fainted by the
way, and tbe weary one arose to toil no more.
O! it was sad to see the student's gown ex
changed for the shroud. Many bitter tears
were wept wheu the friends of the deceased stu
dent buried him near that hallowed spot, which
was iv bis mind when be proposed oue sabbath
morning, years ago, that we should siug "be
fore going to church"—
"I love to stay where my mother sleeps,
And gaze on each star as it twinkling peeps
Through that bending willow which lonely weeps
O'er my mother's grave.
"I love to kneel on the green turf there,
Afar from the scene of my daily care,
, And breathe to my Saviour my evening prayer
O'er my mother's grave.
"I still remember how oft she led
And knelt me by her, as with God she plead
Tbat I might be His, when the clod was spread
O'tr my mother's grave."
The mild influences of a morning in autumn,
aud these subduiDg memories awakened by tbe j
occasiou, bad wrought my mind into a mourn- |
fully pleasing form. He has been taken aud 11
am left. Shall we ever meet again ? Had a
being of angelic brightness paused on poised
wing aud whispered to my soul's ear some mes
sage from the unseen one, it could not be more
really and substantially true aud comforting,
thau humble faith in Christ makes tbe simple
words of his epitaph, read as I wept a tear to
bis memory : "I will see you again, and your
heart will rejoice."
Taking leave of tbe grave of my college-mate
and of the old Stone Church, 1 proceeded on my
journey to realize a lile-long desire and hope—
tbat of visiting Weyer's Cave. It was my good
fortune to have a most excellent guide to Bbow
me the Cave, aud a very pleasant companion in
tbe person of a young Doctor, to keep me from
being lonesome while in tbe strange recesses of
this world-renowned cavern. Two hours were
delightfully spent in observing the many inter
esting objects of interest pointed out to us by
our faithful guide. The Doctor's facetious re
marks about, the various things so curiously
wrought and fashioned iv this "bidden part of
the earth" enhanced the pleasures ot the visit
very much. Of all the objects, however, tbat
arrested my attention most was tbe fountain
near the terminus of tbe Cave, and tbe most in
teresting because of tbe legend it suggests:
Ouce, beyond the blue mountains, lived a
brave young warrior who wooed and won the
affections ot a lovely Indian Princess. Soon af
terwards he led a baud of braves to this beauti
ful valley, where he met tbe foe in battle, but
in the- conflict be lost bis lite. When the braves
returned and told the melancholy story of bis
fate the grief ot his affianced one was inconsola
ble. One night, alter weeping herself to sleep,
the spirit of the slain warrior came to ber iv
dreams, and seemed to iead ber across the blue
mountains to a vale of surpassing loveliness,
where he showed her tbe bloody forest, the
scene of the deadly contest. And then they
came to tbe entrance of a oave, iv whose dark
ness be suddenly vanished, whereupon she be
gan to weep. That woke her from her broken
ken slumbers. Tbe impression produced by
the dream became a passion of ber soul, for she
regarded it as sent to inform her where the
loved one might be found.
It was not long ere she sat out to cross the
mountains, directed by the memory of her
dream. She followed the phantom guide to tbe
battle ground, saw tbe graves where the war
riors were buried, and then she began ber search
for the cave of which she dreamed. One day,
thirsty and weary, she came to the river's brink
and sat down to rest. Casting ber anxious
looks towards the rocks on tbe opposite bank
she observed something in their appearance re
minding ber ot the rocks seen in ber dream. —
Quickly crossing tbe stream and ascending tbe
bill she approached tbem, and found there an
entrance to a cave. All appeared as familiar to
ber as if she bad seen the place before. Procu
ring a torch she fearlessly entered, following tbe
monitions of ber dream, and erelong reached tbe
terminus; but found bim not. Sitting down in
despair the unhappy one refused to retrace ber
steps. Day by day she wept her life away.—
This urn of stone received ber tears of disinter
ested love as something too pure and precious
for tbe gaze of tbe cold and unfeeling world
After telling you this legend I would just say
to you, dear Spectator, tbat after two hours we
came out, feeling tbat tbe outward world is
more pleasant for a constancy than the i award,
ami rather more beautiful too.
Yours, &C, G-LIBLMTTS.
Death of a Child.
Tbe followiag extract is from a letter written
upon tbe death of a child:
"I went in:tbe. morning—a bright and radiant
morning—many went yesterday, more to day,
and there are dews to be shed tor tbe departures
of to-morrow. And can it be wondered tbat
pleasant Summer mornings should beguile tbem
into going ? It is a marvel tbat tbey do not
wait tor the burden and the noon, but follow
tbe lark and bear her song over tbe ruin of the
rainbow. That these words, so beautiful, they
should make so true, 'and joy cometb in tbe
Go in tbe morning—a glorious morning—
when the sky is all beauty and the world is all
bliss; ere tbe dews have gone to heaven, or tbe
stars have gone to God; when the birds are
singing, and tbe cold winds are blowing; and
tbe flowers are out tbat will be shut at noon,
and the clouds tbat are never rent in rain, and
tbe shadows inlaid witb crimson lie away to tbe
We have sometimes seen a little coffin, like a
casket tor jewels, ail alone by itself in a bugb
hearse, melancholy witb plumes aud gloomy aa
a frown, and we have thought not so should we
accompany those a little way who go in the
morning. We have wondered wby they did not
take tbe little coffin into tbe carriage witb tbem
and lay it gently upon tbeir laps, tbe sleeper
there lulled to slumber without a bosom or a
cradle. We have wondered what there was for
tears at such a going, in tbe early morning, from
borne to home, like fair white doves witb downy
wings emerging from netber night and flatter
ing for entrance at tbe window of Heaven.
Upon those little faces it never seemed to us
tbat Death could place bis great seal; there is
no though! of the charneJ-hous- in those yonng
listeners to that invitation whose acceptance
we are bound not to forbid; there should be
morning songs and not sighs; fresh flowers are
not badges of mourning; no tears, no clouds,
but bright dews and bright drawings together.
Fold np the white robe, lay aside tbe forgot
ten toy ; smootii tbe unpressed pillow, and gen
tly smile as you think that no years cau make
memory oid. An eternal guileless child, waiting
about tbe threshold of Paradise for the coming
friend for home!
Monument to Maktin Luther.—A monu
ment, on a magnificent scale, to Martin Lutber,
is to be erected at Worms. It is from a design
by the sculptor Kietaebel. Ob a base of forty
feet in diameter in tbe form ot tbe battlementa
of a castle —an idea suggested to tbe artist by
Luther's hymn, "Em teste Burg ist unser Gott"
—tbe colossal bronze effigy of Lutber is sur
rounded by statues of Melanctbon and Reucblin,
aud tbe Princes of Saxon and Hesse, his pro
tectors ; while close to tbe statue of Luther,
leaning on tbe pedestal, are placed bis predeces
sors in the work of Reform tion —Wycliffe and
Huss, Peter Waldo aud Savonarola. The whole
sum required for this monument is £17,000, of
which £12.000 has been already collected, da
ring tbe last three or tour years, from almost all
parts of the globe.
Peace.—Peace is better thun joy. Joy is an
uneasy guest, and always on tiptoe to depart.—
It tires and wears us out, aud yet kebps us ev.r
fearing that the next moment it will be gone.—
Peace is not so—it comes more quietly, it stays
more contentedly, and it never exhausts our
strength, nor gives us one anxious forecastiug
thought. Therefore, let us pray for peace.—
It is rhe gist of God—promised to all His chil
dren ; and if we have it in our hearts, we shall
not pine f.<r joy, though its bright wings never
toucb us while we tarry in tbe world.
An Ohio stumper, while making a speech re
cently, paus.d in tho midst of it, and exclaimed
"Now, gentlemen, what do you think ?"
Instantly a man rose in the assembly, and
with one eye partially closed, modestly, wi _
Scotch brogue, replied:
_ think, 6ir, I do, indeed sir—l think if yoa
and I would stump the county together, we
would tell more lies than any two men in tha
county, sir, and I'd not say a woid myself du
| riog the whole time, sir!"
Tbe fabulous unicorn has been found by a
i traveller, ile says it exists in the iutenor ot
I Thibet, in India, where it is well known to tb_
i inhabitants. It is the same as the unicorn of
J the Scriptures, and is mentioned by ancient
I writers. It is said to be about tbe size of the
I horse and extremely wild. It is seldom if ever
naught. Tbey have a born projecting out from
their forehead. Tbey go in herds, and are li>
be met with on tbe borders of tbe Great Desert.
At best lile is not very long. A few mom
smiles, a few more tears, some pleasure, moch
pain, sunshine and songs, clouds aud darknes-,
hasty greetings, abrupt farewells—then our little
play will close, and the injurer and injured will
pass away. Is it worth while to bate each
Blub Eyes.—lt is said tbat all tbe Presidents
of tbe United States, except Gen. Harrison, bad
blue eyes. Among tbe great men of the world,
tbe blue eyes appear to have been predominant.
Socrates, Sbakspeare, Locke, Bacon, Milton,
Goethe, Frauklio, Napoleon, and Humboldt, all
had blue eyes.
Deixking in Poland.—The Russian Govern
ment has ordered the Polish clergy not to urge
the people to total abstinence, because tbe reve
nues from taxes on spirits may be diminished.—
They are, however, allowed to enlarge in gen
eral terms on tbe blessings of temperance.
Despair never made a Christian, a scholar, or
a hero—never a Paul, nor a Columbus, nor a
Washington. Hence our work must be better
than poetry, more sensitive than rainbows—it
must repose, serene and invincible on tbe ada
mantine basis of truth and soberness.
"The British Empire, sir," exclaimed John
Bull, to his near relation, Jonathan, "Why, sir,
the sun never sets on'l sir!"
"And in which the tax gatherer never goes
to bed!" added Jonathan, in bis usual quaint
Bad Luck and Good Luok.—Bad luck is
simply a man with bis bands in bis pockets and
bis pipe in bis mouth, looking on to see bow it
will come out. Good luck is a man of pluck,
witb bis sleeves rolled up and working to make
it come right.
A clergymen bad a milk-white horse, which,
on account of its beautiful form, be called Ziou.
Having ordered bis horse to tbe door, a friend
asked bim where be was going. "Wby," said
be, "to mount Zion."
Somebody, describing the absurd appearance
of a man dancing the polka, says :
"He looks as tnougb be bad a bole in his
pocket and was trying to shake a shilling down
the leg of his trowsers."
An Arkansas traveller says that be knew a
young fellow down South who was so fond of a
young woman tbat he rubbed off bis nose kiss
ing ber shadow ou tbe wall.
A counsel being questioned by a judge to know
"for whom be was concerned," replied, "I am
concerned, my lord, for the plaintiff but I am
employed by the defendant."
Merit is never so conspicuous as wbeu coup
led witb an obscure origin ; just as tbe moon
never appears so lustrous as when it emerges
from a cloud.
"I say, friend, give us a cbaw terbacker."
"Weil, stranger, I'm just outen terbacker, but
I've got some of the best rozzum tbat ever yon
Tbe more ladies practice walking, the more
graceful tbey become in their movements. —
Those ladies acquire the best carriage who don _
rid. in one.