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White Cloud Kansas chief. [volume] (White Cloud, Kan.) 1857-1872, April 26, 1860, Image 1

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8L. MILLER, EDITOR AKD FUBLISHER.
THE CONSTITUTION AND THE UNION.
terms j?.c riR men, ii ibtaick
VOLUME III. NUMBER 42, j
WHITE CLOUD, KANSAS, 'THURSDAY, APRIL 26, 1860.
WHOLE NUMBER, , m,;
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1
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14 V- -wi
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ISP
si iti 'Yji .
III ill III 1 1:1
HI j - ;
321 UTILE FROCK AHD SHOES,
' : BT BESJAM1H B. MITCHELL.
1 tittle ftaek b iliMr
. Ofkhau4wkiMMua,
Li; fcUn ( u4 plai;
tnito t Huh pair T fcot.
Wit km ud tWn la,
Ijt kalf LwmltJ mf tfca thlif
U awllMrt karaaa araw.
eaaaMt kad paawa awaj freai aartb,
Witk all it tMtrt tin;
Tk kinb kad left tkit ScaiiMr kaaau.
Fat aMi eaafvaial kin;
Tk tvilifbl knaxat wftly al7
Aawaf tha aa af ana
Ai aatel laft kit bow a kifh.
Ta pther lawen for Bata.
Tat Ufa' Mw ' aaarar aaaM,
IVkrra titter, lick, did He;
Tata faatlr baaed kar fodad akeek,
Aad aaiated la tba tky:
Tke aMraiaf ahaaa aaaa the had,
Tka Aataan viad klew frta
Tba aagal Mated iu titref wiafa,
Aad wkiiperad, "Coma with bm.
W fmtbarad raaad bar djia( bad,
H ilk haant lo rap aad pra j;
Aad awar vera the lean at abed,
Wbea efiter treat away.
Ne bitter lean bad aba ta weep,
Na aia ta be Ibrjiraa;
BatekMed bar little a rat la ileep,
Ta apaa tbeej la Haaaaw.
Wa laid bar ia tba aartbt (raaa era ait,
Dewa bj the aitlafe freea,
Wkara (aatry iweepa the dewy (raia,
Aad Saarnar (owem are aaaa;
Aad aftea wbea dear ewtber (oaa
Ta fat her tbiagi ta aaa,
I tee her drop a eileat tear
Oa titter frock aad aboaa.
THE MUTE DOCTOR;
OR,
TIE MAS WITD aiAXT MMES.
A TALE OF PASSIOX.
BT MB. M. L. IWEKTSER.
(continued.)
CHAPTER VII.
THE BCBPRIIE.
It wu hrelf twilight in the begio
niig of May. Natare was aeaia reriv
mg the foliage after its long.'dall sleep,
and those persons in cities who had leis
ure for aught rt the daily press of ba
lioen, or gaining an immediate subsist
ence, longed on this evening, for the fresh,
onr-olluted breezes and earlr flowers of
tU country. Mrs. Oastone was one of
inese ; ths bad always hated the city with
its eternal ceremonies, its walls of brick
anl mimic gardens, and now more than
Mr, the tithed for the unclonded skies,
the warm air which never chills one to
the hwit, and the wild, perpetual mnsic
of her fatherland. Often had she endeav
ored to persuade her bnsband to visit It
ly, bat business that great bore was
constant impediment Now, indeed,
she hoped, expected, to actualize the
dreams of her childhood.
"A devoted lover, who will never
eary of kindness to me, a home in that
'anil of romance, with my beantifal Ini
beside me."
Sach were some of her thought as she
lked with the hand of her ehildren
clanped in her own ; bnt overclouding all
" anticipated joy, there was present
wtchednsss, for she walked with them
for the last time.
On the following day, she wu to bid
diro to her son. "What would he say
ofter life to thU desertion ? How
ould she yearn to clasp him to her bo
som 1".
One moment she hesitated, almost re
solved to retract her engagement and re
main faithful to her duties. This was,
however but a passing strnggl, 0f her
u.1 C,t'n- Was she not already
fuuty 7 Had she not sinnned in thought
d intention V Passion once m.re re
od it sway, and she smiled contemp
Mous y at the recollection of her adden
scruples.
The next day at tei Mr. Qastone placed
r w,fe hi, in steamboat plying
ootween Boston and New York. Ex
pressing mny ,inere witbe and anxie.
orthe safety and pleasrjre of their
KT he nsMi her hmi kwed the
7 hps of his child, and bade them good
Horning.
On lMT;ng lia boat bt met Dr Boyd
wV ""T"8! to learn, that news
wcn he had that morning received from
"? York, compelled him to go there
r"lw0t delay. Mr. Q sat one expressed
gnifiesnt sign, hi pleasure at the
iTce, at the same time remarking to
"we the satisfaction he felt in com
??"g ber to ths kindness of 10 perfect
iwlemsn. They parted.
r. Boyd seated himself beside hi. la-
nd Passing her hand in hi, gave
U ,vM 5 tho,e eanM!8t look nich kind"
JJ41" fire of passion in ber soul, and
dan - wni0el ery regret which ber
Yore had once occasioned.
... Gtone had remarked the unusual
WilrLf b',e wnich his wife had
we boat, and smiling at what be
sack Womn,B vanity in carrying about
ffit'7 ofclothia8'tonce for
Btrang, a it m.y ,ppet; jt WM BeTer.
""troe, that Dr Boyd bad remained
nearly six month in the house of Mrs.
Ellerton, solely to complete his love af
fair with Mrs. Gaatoae, aad yet so per-
lecuy oaa every particular been managed,
that all had been deceived : not even a
suspicion had been awakened by the fact
of their leaving town together, bo natnr
allly had it been accounted for by Mr.
Qastone.
The absence of Mrs. Gastone bad been
limited to six weeks, previously to ber
departure. Four of them had already ex
pired, and tba non-arrival of any intelli
gence respecting her safety and health,
began to create much anxiety in his mind.
tie was a Don i to write to ner to tne care
of her friends in Philadelphia, when be
received from Dr. Boyd a note sealed with
black, and written in a wretched hand.
After lamentations, be proceeded to com
municate the death of Mrs. Gastone, by
a most unfortunate accident. Their ar
rival in New York had been safe and
pleasant. The day fellowinz. a few of
his friends had agreed npon a short sail,
and Mrs. G. had been invited and accep
ted the invitation. A sudden squall
arose, their boat was upset, and she, with
one other lady, was drowned. He spoke
of bis incredible exertions to save her,
the exposure of which, had eaused him
a fever; delirium succeeded, and this let
ter was the first effort of bis returning
health. He trusted that Mr. Gastone
would attach no blame to him, and hoped
a few weeks would enable him to express
his sympathy in person.
Upon the reception of this note, Mr.
Gastone was at first overwhelmed, but by
degrees a suspicion crept into his mind ;
he conld not account for it, but be felt no
sorrow, such as the actual death of his
wife would have produced in fact, A
did not belUvt ii. He was surprised that
all at once a doubt of the truthfulness of
his friend should arrive, and Gx itself in
his mind, but so it was. Ia truth, he
believed his wife and child still lived.
At all events he was resolved to know
the truth.
He speke to no one of the reception or
contents of the letter, but arranging bis
business so that it would not suffer from
his absence, and committing Leon to the
charge of the faithful Catharine, he de
parted for New York.
Establishing himself in on of the prin
cipal boarding-houses, he mingled con
stantly with the world, to meet, if possi
ble, the individual, who he now believed
had either seduced his wife, or murdered
and secreted her. At all events, he sought
to learn the reality. Meanwhile, he learn
ed from Mrs. Ellerton, that Dr. Boyd
had not returned, and that he had left be
hind various unsettled debts.
Months passed. Mr. Gastone bad en
d n red all the horrors of suspense, still be
remained ondiscooraged. lie conld read
ilv forgive the man the various sums of
money he had borrowed from him, but
for the abduction of his wife and child,
he would pursue him so long as life per
mitted, lie loved his wife spite of ber
changeable mood, and idolized his child.
Singular indeed, must have been the oc
casion, to have drawn tears frrnn the eyes
of that stern man, but now, in midnight's
lonely hour, he wept for the desolation
about him. and in the anticipation of
many miseries which he feared had be
fallen the loved, absent onea. He 'grew
thin and pale, his appetite failed, bis
spirits were fbreed, and he moved through
the streets mechanically, casting npon ev
ery roan an eagle glance. Many, in pass
ing, shrank from bim, tor there was wua-
ness almost insanity, in the rapidity
with which he walked.
One dav. when glancing restlessly
about as nsual, be met the long sought in
dividual face to face. Dr. Boyd could
not escape, but assuming bis old winning
and gracious smile, extended his hand
with much cordiality, exclaiming :
"HanDv to see vo. mv dear Gastone;
yon perceive I articulate now ; a terrible
operation, but I can speak quite well
was a little awkward at first though but
how are you ? recovered the loss of your
lady sad, sad event truly I perceive it
has afflicted you but don't let me de
tain you, air business before pleasure
excuse me, eir 1" and was proceeding
up the street, when he found himself de
tained. So rapidly had this stream of words
flowed from the lips of the lately silent
Doctor, that Mr. Uastone stood petnnea
for a moment, till perceiving that this
long desired opportunity was about to be
lost, he caught Dr. Boyd by the arm, and
said sternly :
"Stop, air answer me truly wner
are. my wife and child ?" .
The Doctor assumed a look of aston
ishment. "Your wire and child 1 did I not in
form yon that they were buried beneath
the waves of the ocean 1"
"Aad I tell yon in return, that I do not
believe it. They are alive, and you knew
the" place of their concealment ; answer
mel"
"My dear friend," replied Dr. Boyd,
with bis most gracious air, "it cannot be
that yon would charge a man of my hon
or with deceit, in bo grave a matter. 1
might challenge yon npon such an im
putation ; but I will not. I pity and
lardon yon. ' The loss of those yon
ove has doubtless affected your judgment;
from my sonl I sympathize with yon bnt
excuse tne now good morning."
Mr. Gastone again caught him, and fix
ing upon bim bis sharp, penstrating eye,
said :
"Yon shall not eaeape me thus. Ma
ny months kave I nought this interview,
and I will sot now be baffled by roar
hypocritical politeness. - I tell you nay.
i swear to yon that yon do know the res
idence of my wife and child, if indeed
yon have not already murdered them.
By the God who avenges such wrongs.
yon tiali speak ; ill cannot compel you
the law will."
Dr. Boyd was pale witk rage, bnt
commanding himself, replied cooly aad
with the same immovable urbanity: "Do
yon not tee, my dear sir. that we are at'
tracting much attention ? a crowd will
soon collect abont ns, and the effects may
be unpleasant to yon. If you are still
unsatisfied, let ns retire into the coffee
house, and deliberately adjust the mat
ter."
Mr. Gastone, being neatest ths door,
turned to go in, and an instant after,
looking back for his companion, be was
out of sight He comprehended at once
the trick and its consequences. In his
wrath, he jostled every person he met.
stamped npon the pavement, and exclaim
ed, bitterly, rlhe curse of a broken -heart
ed and dishonored husband follow him 1
Upon Mr Gastone'a movement to go in
the coffee house. Dr. Boyd quickly step
ped into a narrow alley close by, and
passing under the arch of a building, dis
appeared. Pausing a moment, to ascer
tain if he was followed, he laughed hear
tily.muttering, "Well done, Mr. Gastone!
Yon thought to clinch me, but I have not
played the rogue these fifteen years, to be
caught in bo feeble a trap." Thus mus
ing, he walked somewhat hastily, and at
last entered a large and handsome buil
ding in the western part of the city.
stepping into a side parlor, he exclaimed,
"Well, Bella, from whom do yon think
1 bave just parted 7
"Indeed I cannot think," she replied,
'but if I may judge by your counte
nance, l should tancy it was some old
friend."
"Old friend, indeed ! What would you
say, my dear, to a very social chat with
your loyal and dignified husband 7 '
"My husband in this city V cried she.
in terror.
"Oh! do not be alarmed, my love," he
replied, with an air of insolence. "Do
yon think I shall allow him to approach
you 7 .Besides, be can bave no meam
of knowing where yon are ; rest perfect
ly easy."
"L id you say, sir, tnat my lather is
here?" asked a sweetachild, with blue eyes
and.a fair white skin, "shall 1 see bim?
"Hush! Ini," he replied roughly, "have
I not often told yon that I am your true
father, and that yon bave, of course, no
other ?'
"I know it," continued the little girl
quickly, "I mean the one I used to call
father. I did love him, for he waa al
ways kind to me. Tell me, mother, shall
I not see him ?
"No no.my child," replied Mrs. Gas
tone, "we do not wish to see him. lie is a
bad man." She could not pronounce this
falsehood in the clear eye of her child,
without blushing deeply. Ini was dis
satisfied, and wished to converse longer.
but was restrained by the lowering brow
of bim she called "Father."
Dr. Boyd had brought Mrs. Gastone
to this privato boarding house, upon their
entrance into the city, and as it was re
tired, and they took their meals by them
selves, she was well pleased. Their suite
of rooms were amply furnihed, and she
had not thus far felt the loss of those lux
uries to which she had been accustomed.
A piano and harp, a rose-wood book-case
neatly filled, a writing desk and table of
the same material, with a few choice en
gravings, adorned. a small room adjoining
the parlor. 1 bis she called her study,
and in it she spent her happiset hours.
with ber books, ber music, and little Ini.
Mrs. Gastone did nbt pine for society, for
she bad never much likdd it ; bnt she of
ten desired some free, educated mind, with
whom she eonld hold intelligent conver
sations, and to her grief, she had found
that among her lover's varied attractions,
this had no place.
She therefore sought, in the many hours
which be daily spent abroad, to find sat
isfaction and employment in cultivating
the expanding intellect of the beautiful
child she had brought from its own home,
and by this devotedness, to atone in some
measure for the wrongs she had done, and
was constantly doing.
An open door, from the study leading
into the breakfast parlor, displayed a
complete table service of solid silver.
which bad been Air. uastone s weaaing
gift to his wife. This, together .with
many other articles of real value, had
caused her husband to remark the unu
sual bulk of ber bsggage. It was the
discovery of the absence of the silver, that
confirmed bis first suspicion respecting
the true cause of her departure. Never
did ber eyes rest upon it, without a slight
sinking of the heart, and a pang of re
morse, for having thus repaid bis gener
osity to ber.
These feelings, slight at first, bad been
mnch increased of late, by the fact that
her lover was often negligent of her hap
piness, was absent continually during the
day,' and often did net return till three or
four in the morning. : She had ventured
to remonstrate with him, to which ha bad
once repb'ed, "Yon see, my dear, it would
be bad enough to be tied to one's wife,
and obliged to keep regular hours ; bnt
when one does not mauige aimseu ia iou
luxury, be should be allowed to select bis
m . - 3 a
own boors ol recreation., a wena noi 10
reproach yon, but yon, of all others, will
be the last to restrict one's freedom." He
left the house, bumming a popular air.
and as usual, returned in a state of ex-
titement, having aridsauy drank and
played to excess. ' ' "'" " .' '.
Since that reply of Dri' Boyd, which
had caused her to weep, then had come
to her many momenta of bitter reflection,
when she wonld say to . herself, "No !
truly, I am not his wife. . I have been
unfaithful guilty. How can I speak to
him of confidence of trust T What
binds us, but the passion that exists for
bim in my sonl ? But I complain not ;
it was my own choice. I voluntarily de
serted my husband, and would not will
ingly return." '
Her lover had ever held out to her the
probability of finally going to Itlay the
land of her life-loBg dreams but hsd
wished to remain in the. city during the
Summer. That had passed. It was now
late in the Autum, and the days wore
short and gloomy. She reminded him of
this promise, still unfulfilled, but be now
put ber off decidedly, though with tolera
ble kindness.
"It would cost much, Bella," he would
reply, "to live there in the style in which
you would choose : and though I have
wealth, it is not always at my command
be patient, and we will yet accomplish
your wish, bnt not at present."
That one hope, so strong with ber, bad
gone far towards indacing ber to desert
ber husband : and now to be obliged to
relinquish it, was cruel ; she had not an
ticipated this. 1 These evils had come up
on Mrs. Gastone so gradually, that she
felt not their full influence ; indeed, she
could hardly be said to be unhappy ; she
was only sad at times restless and un
occupied frequently. When, therefore,
Dr. .Boyd informed her of his meeting
with her husband, she was for the first
time positively wretched! she shuddered
at the thought of bis ascertaining ber res
idence, and forcing ber to return with
him.
At this moment, the door gently open
ed, and a young girl, carrying a small
Hower-pot, entered the room, and begged
for work, or at least a night s shelter.
We will search a little into the history of
the child. , ..
CHAPTER VIII
A CHILD WITH A
SOUL, BUT
WITHOUT A
HOMB.
About one hundred miles Iron) the
city, nearly in the centre of the populous
village of L., stood a large white man
sion, and by its side a brick store. The
ownerof these buildings sat one evening in
his handsomely furnished drawing-room.
in a comlortaDie cushioned arm-cnair,
with his feet upon the brass mountings of
a highly polished stove. He was dimi
nutive in stature, intellect, in moral de
velopment, and in every respect a copy
ist. There were but two things that
be knew or loved money and popu
larity.
His face was small and withered, while
over a low brow rendered still meaner
in appearance by the enormous width of
the head fell a mass of coarse straight
black hair. His eyes were grsy, sunken
and wholly inexpressive of an in-dwell
ing soul. The ordinary expression of
countenance when alone was bard, dnll
and uninteresting, but when in the pres
ence of others a sickening, servile and
cringing smile constantly dwelt upon it ;
the quality of the smile always remaining
the same the quantity graduated accord
ing to the position in the scale of wealth
or popularity which the person occupied
with whom he had to deal.
Never was there a character so totally
devoid of benevolence and goodness of
heart Had the clergyman of the place
requested him to head a subscription for
some popular charity, iMeazer iuaruie
would immediately have written his name
opposite fifty or one hundred dollars, and
nearly atarved bis family for weeks alter
wards. Mr. Marble had therefore acquir
ed the reputation of being a liberal man,
and his large subscriptions were every
where spoken of. In business matters,
ho was the hero of misers. Waa a rag
ged child of poverty to enter bis shop
with a single penny, for some slight arti
cles, he never received more than half ths
quantity which the well-dressed child of
a wealthy man would bave done. ine
half-cents and the quarters he always re
tained, and it was a settled principle with
bim that the poorer the bnyer, the higher
the price. However, such aa be was, he
sat by the stove with one of the only three
expressions whichever animated his dull,
livid countenance gratified acquisitive
ness. :
Opposite to him, sewing by a small
night-lamp, sat his help-meet, and faith
fully she helped him on in the grovelling,
earthly course he always pursued. She
was large, bold and mascoline, and the
object of her life, though the same as her
husband's, was pursued through different
channels.
Coarse, ugly, vulgar and domineering
in domestic matters, she could so smooth
the rough exterior when sufficient motive
existed, that the elegance of her dress and
the rich entertainments she gave, caused
her to be tolerably well received among
the aristocrats of the village.
It was a bitter cold night, following a
stormy day. Mrs. Marble was dressed
in a coarse woolen garment, witnont cap
or ornament of any kind, to relieve the
exceeding harshness of ber features. Sbe
knew that the storm would prevent the
arrival of company, , and having no self
respect, was therefore negligent of ber
person.
W ell," said ehe, in reply to some pre
vious remark of ber obsequious spouse,
yon have disposed of the child at last
am slad of it bh bas been a but - or
expense to us long enough, and' I could
make nothing of her, after all. To be
sure, she is nice and handy about the
kitchen, and never retorts when I scold
ber ; she is the tamest of all human be
ings, and that's one reason I hate ber.
Bnt te have it flung in my face that sb
is my niece, and her mother never mar
ried, is too much ; so pack her off I'm
heartily sick of her."
"I hate the girl as bad as yon do." re
plied the husband, "but I wou'd not send
her away, till I had some good excuse to
give the neighbors, when they asked for
her. I consented to take her into my
house, that I might establish my charac
ter for benevolence, and I wish to main
tain that character, though Heaven knows
it is little enough the sulky jade, with
her great staring eyes, will get from
me. But, wife, she has saved us hiring a
girl."
"Yes, I know it ; and when Napoleon
Bonaparte and Andalusia Madarina were
little, I wanted ber help ; now I can do
without her. Besides, it would hinder
my children from rising in the world, te
have one of her stamp always with them;
and if I should make only a servant of
her, there would be a great deal of talk
and fuss among the neighbors. The de
ceitful huzzy has contrived to get them
all on her side."
"Well," rejoined the husband, with a
sympathy truly worthy the cause and the
man, "we and our virtuous children are
soon to be rid of so bad a person, and one
item of expense will then be removed.
We can now afford a piano, and a new
set of mirrors for the parlors. I shall
send her to New York with a friend of
mine, who will proceed there in a few
days. Once there, she may manage for
herself, and I trust our respectable family
will never again be annoyed by her pres
ence." .
"And I," continued the women, anx
ions to have a hand in so worthy a deed,
will write to her mother, that she would
leave us, in spite of our opposition, and
that we know not where she is."
The innocent object of all this contri
vance and abuse, lay buried in sleep, un
conscious of the interest which was at
present taken in ber welfare. Let ns en
ter ber room. Ascending a flight of
well carpeted stairs, with mahogany bal
ustrade, a long entry, several apartments,
and a narrow, steep staircase led to the
attic. This room, directly under the
roof, was neither finished nor furnished
A few evergreens, hungup during the pre
ceding Summer, some rough pencil draw
ings pasted upon boards, and - a little
flower-pot, in which grew a rose, protec
ted from the cold by a quantity of rags
and bits of wood, were its only orna
ments. A box, which contained some
clothes and a few books, served aa a ta'
ble.
Beneath an old qnilt lay the sleeper a
lovely girl, nearly fifteen. The slightly
upturned face revealed an oval cheek.
soft, brown complexion, fine, glossy black
hair, scattered in a profusion of natural
ringlets, and a thin, delicate hand. Her
countenance was tranquil, and wore
sweet expression of subdued sadnesss.
Her whole life had been sorrowful. She
became conscious of her existence on the
bosom of a young mother, whose sad fate
made it impossible for ber to welcome
her child with smiles, and she grew be
neath the clouds of life, a quiet, patient.
thinking being, in whom, nevertheless,
there existed a fountain of deep an 4 fer
vent love, the bright rays of which, ting
ed every object with which she came in
eontact.
Shame and neglect at length drove the
unhappy mother from her native home,
and confiding her child to the care of ber
sister and brother-in-law, left her, to seek
employment in the city.
Emily Manning was six years of age,
when sbe came to reside with her auat,
or rather became ber servant She was
taught to practice the most rigid econo
my, and forced to labor far beyond her
strength ; she became, in fact, a slave to
the will of her relations, lhe children ol
her annt, though much younger, were al
lowed to domineer over her, and she was
the patient recipient of every one's com-
bativenees and ill-nature.
Emily," her aunt would ssy, "you
stupid dunce, an't yon ever learn to do
anything ? Here, take this child in your
arms, carry him about, and quiet him, till
I finish this piece of work ; there, stand
gazing into the street now, will you, and
let the child fall yon are a provoking
creature ! Mind what yon are about
You ought to be thankful that you can do
the least thing for ns, in return for all
our kindness to yoa, submitting to the
degradation of having you. in our house,
and above all, acknowledging yon as our
relation, though yon may be aura we
should not have done thai, if every body
had not known it before. But you ought
to be thankful that we keep yon in our
respectable bouse, when all the neighbors
know what sort of a child yon are. Don't
stand there crying that's no way to ex
press your gratitude what ails yon ?"
"Yon hurt my feelings," replied the
child, endeavoringto restrain ber tears,and
removing a big, heavy boy of two years
from one slender arm to the other, ner
fragile form nearly sinking under tb
enormous weight
"Your feelingB I continued the wo
man; coarsely, regardless of ber discom
fort and tears, "what business have yon
ith feelings? What do yon expect to
do with feelings, when yoa go out into
the world, to ; earn your own bread V
"I do not know ; bnt 1 am sore that
God trave them to me. and I am not to
blame."
"1 es, you are just like your wicked
mother; ehe was always talking about her
feelings, and yoa see what a fine scrape
sue goi us an into ; lor my part, l am
respectable I don't have any feelings
you never see me star-gazing, reading
newspspers.and blabbering about mv fuel-
iegs. It is all of a piece r yon will never
come to any decent end, till yon quit these
Emily rebelled not ; dsy after day she
: l.l ; i.- ...... ... .
irai'tij mesa uiauiung insinuations ana
coarse scoldings, with a sweet unruffled
temper, almost angelic, thinking it a
great luxury to weep a few moments by
herself.
The only pleasant recollections she had
were connected with hfr mother, and a
long separation, instead of dimming their
brightness, rendered them clearer and
sweeter.
One condition of being received by her
annt, was a promise on the part of Emi
ly's mother not to visit ber often, but to
send her clothing. When therefore, the
desolate child occasionally received pres
ents from her mother, she attached to them
a love, a sacredness, which could belong
to nothing else, and which were always
the occasion of renewed scoldings from
ber hard-hearted relatives.
To ber little cousins, Emily bad been a
devoted sister. She had watched over
them with the untiring assiduity of a
mother, and submitted to their whims
with the obedience of a slave. Though
weary of her life, and ignorant of any
other, she constantly longed for an exist
ence of which she dreamed, but of which
she could speak to no one about her.
On the morning following the evening
conversation of the relatives of Emily,
Mrs. Marble was more than usually exact
ing, apparently fearful of not reaping ev
ery possible advantage from the child,
while she did remain.
Calling her at length, sbe said, "You
are going away fromns, to earn your own
living."
Emily had approached ber annt when
summoned, and anticiptting some fresh
commission for the kitchen, stood with
her arms folded naturally, her eyes cast
down, and her countenance pale, serious
and subdued, aa usnal. When she heard
the sentence uttered by Mrs. Marble, she
slowly raised her eyelids, and fixing her
large, Iiqnid eyes npon her, while a sweet
and inexplicable smile stole gradually
over her features, replied, in a tone slight
ly animated: "Going away, Aunt ? Do
you really mean that I am going to leave
you 7"
This was spoken with such deep, real,
undisguised satisfaction, that Mrs. Mar-
Die s temper new up in an instant, and
seizing the child roughly by tbe arm, ex
, t ..O 1 .
claimed, -oo you are giaa to leave us.
Hiss, are yon ? glad to leave this nice,
respectable home, where yon have every
thing comlortauie, and that, too, without
ever earning a cent in return ? You'll
sing another song, I reckon, before the
year is out when yoa find yourself in
some dark kitchen, working like a slave,
from morning till night"
"That is no more than I do here," pa
tiently replied Emily, apparently a lit
tie emboldened by her anticipated depar
ture.
"The impudent huzzy 1" exclaimed
tbe now enraged woman, giving ber an
extra shake ; "after all we have done for
her kept her eight years like a lady, and
now she is glad to go away and be a ser
vant V ell it is all we can expect from
such people. Perhaps, Miss, yon will
have the goodness to tell me what von
expect to do, when you go away from this
excellent home ?"
"You ssy that I am going to be a ser
vant, and as that is what I have always
been, I trust I understand what my dnties
will be, only I hope that no one will
scold me as yon do."
"Gracious Heaven ! worse and worse I
Do yon call this scolding this interest
that I take in your welfare ? I trust yon
will some day know, by experience, what
real scolding is yes, I hope you will fed
it Yon will find it as much more severe
than my kind remarks, as tbe roaring of
a lion is heavier than the crying of an in
fant I scold you, indeed 1"
"Then I think God will let me die,"
submissively and mournfully replied the
stricken girl.
"And now yon must blasphemously
talk of dying ! that solemn aad mysteri
ous event named by your impious tongue!
you die I Why, yon have never been
regenerated never sanctified never con
verted. There, now, if ever there was
such a heathenish child related to a re
spectable family I When you are gone,
who do yon think will keep yoa from sin,
as I bave done 7
"I do not know, bat I think God will.
I often feel aa if bis arms were about me,
and a voice whispering to me, ' that I
should be relieved from this oppression,
if late good I"
"And eo yon have told ail the neigh
bors that yon are oppressed, and treated
like a servant have yon V
"Oh, no ! bow could 1, when yon bave
forbidden me to speak to any of them ?
Besides, I have forgiven you."
Yon talk of forgiveness I You ! an
unregenerated child I a vile ainner !"
"Not vile, ma'am," interrupted Emily,
an expression of conscious purity anima
ticg her countenance, "not vile. Ob,
no I I have always pure and sweet
thoughts, and I do not wish yon any
evil, though yon have never been kind to,
me." ... , '
The enraged woman couM endore these
simple 'truths no longer, but with ber
heavy band gave ber a blow npon the
side of ber bead, whiob sent ber reeling'
to the floor, the blood spirting from ber
nose and mouth.
"There I you heap of ingratitude I yoa
blasphemer of the Holy Book 1 A pretty
pass we have come to, when" lazy va
grants like yon, come into our bouses and
steal our food and clothing I -.-'
Two weeks beheld Emily in that vast
city, without a friend or home, without
money, and with no clothing, excepting
that she wore. She was, upon ber arri
val, deserted by the manVrith whom she
came, be having been directed by Mr.
Marble, not to trouble himself about her.
She wandered the whole day through
the streets, perfectly bewildered by the
new and strange scene. She carried in
her arms a flower-pot with a rose tba
only thing sbe possessed. After calling
at a number of houses, and failing to ob
tain work, as night drew near, she, by
accident, stopped at the rooms occupied
by Dr. Boyd and Mrs. Gastone. The
latter had long wished for some one to
relieve her somewhat of the care of Ini.
and touched with her pretty but sorrow
ful face and artless story, she bade ber re
main. Here Emily's duties were so light, aha
was so kindly treated by Mrs. G., and bo
tenderly loved by Ini, that aha fancied
ber existence a perfect one.
Once when she wu standing beside
Dr. Boyd, Mrs. Gastone uttered an ex
clamation of surprise at the resemblance,
but the next moment, shook ber bead with
an incredulous smile, apparently forget
ting it One day, however, she said to
her:
"Do you know anything about your
father, Emily V
"I do not," replied the child. "I wish
I could see bim I want a father ;" and,
she brushed away the gathering tears.
adding, "my mother lives in Boston.
Her name is Catharine Manning she was
never married."
Mrs. Gaston became very pale, and
murmured :
"It is not my fancy there is a resem
blance. Oh, my God 1 if she should be
hit child 1 And yet how strange that ha
and Catharine never met in Boston. I
will not believe it ; no I it cannot be I"
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Edward Bates. Edward Bates ia
coming up strong as the rival to Gov.
Seward for tbe Republican nomination at
Chicago. His late letter has broken the
back of the political opposition to bim,
and goes in with the rest to be canvassed
on personal grounds. Seward, Cameron
and the German Republican States of tbe
north west are tbe three strong elements
of opposition to bim ; and if they com
bine may defeat his nomination, even if
tbey or their favorites are unable to tri
umph in the selection. Mr. Bates' friend
say the four doubtful States of Pennsyl
vania, New Jersey, Indiana and Illinois
will be for him after tbe first ballot or
two : that Cameron cannot control that
Pennsylvania delegation, which really
prefers Bates to bim ; and that if it is set
tled, after the Convention ia gathered.
that Seward cannot be elected, tbey will
have an easy triumph. If Mr. Bates ia
the candidate.the "Constitutional Union"
party will be wiped out in every free State,
and the Republicans will carry the war
into Africa. But they must look out for
a fire in the rear. Germany ia now ia
howling opposition, and Seward could not
be made more unhappy than by Mr. Bates'
selection. The MassaebosetU delegation
to Chicago is proving a queer compound,
personally and politically ; and it will be
a miracle if they can be brought to act
in unison. As between Seward and
Bates, there would be a pretty marked
and perhaps nearly even division. As -
general thing, however, tbey will adopt
tbe motto that "Success is a Duty" and
go in for the best man to win. But their
antecedents and predilections will be)
likely to make them differ widely as to
who be is. Spnnafidd (Xatt.) JUpub
lican.
The Newark Journal (Democratic)
gives up all hopea for the Third Party
movement in New Jersey, and ssys it ia
absurd for the Democrats to base any
hopes upon it: "As matters stand at
present, the only efficient live party wa
shall have to fight here is the Black Re
publican organization, and to this con
elusion it is aa well to arrive first as last"
Friohtened. The Nashville Union
and American fa Democratic organ
which styles Senator Douglsa a "politie
cal gambler,") ssys :
lhe result of the recent elections in
Chicago and in New Hampshire, ia cal
culated to arouse the gloomiest fears of
the observant and reflecting lover of bis
country..
Among the New Hampshire "election
incident are tba following : Snncook waa
a flourishing Republican town flourish
ing on a large cotton mill. - Last year
it was destroyed by fire. This year the
town went Democratic The fire bad da
populated it of its induatrioua- me
chanics, and left only Pro-Slavery loaf
ers in their places.
Tbe Washington States, a Douglas pa
per, ia publishing extract from speeches,
made by Ties President Breckinridge, in
1854 and 1859, ' showing that be then
stood on tba same platform with Senator
Douglas. . What of it ? Does tba States
suppose, a Pro-Slavery Democrat will not
turn bis his coat as often as once in four
years ? OT. T. Evtning Pott.
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