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VOLUME 14:--.NUMBER 46. BA.HT02ST, YEEMONT, NOYEMBEE 16, 1869. WHOLE NUMBER 682. i ' V -A..G V ! - 4 1 1 HARDWARE. FRANK P.. DAVIS & CO., Successors toShcpherdnon $ DarU IiRADFoRD, VERMONT, GENERAL PFALFBH IN IRON. STEKL, COAL, HEEDS, GLASS, BELTING, HARDWARE, AGRICULTURAL IMPLEMENTS &c, &c, &c. 20,000 ootiniis Nova Scotia Grind Stones, just rccciTt-a l.j F. li. DAVIS & CO. rpilr CELEBRATED Prize Churn, can be I lound at . B. DAVIS & CO. Send for Cin-ular. diwriptUm at the lowest market prices, from tlie l.'t manufacture, tmth Korcisrn and Amer ican, at V. 13. DAVIS & CO. (CONSTANTLY on hand, lllntksmith't Mate . rialu ot eTry de-ripion. Horse Shoes, Toe Cork, Ilorie Nails, Malablc's.Nutts. Washeri, ltolm, Ac We make a upeciality of German Glaus and Buildr' Materials ot tvery descrip tion. Orders solicited, which will receive our special attention. trrMiinufacturer'n Agents for John H. Rich ards' Blacking. H "Authorized Agents for the Sampson Scale Company. IJALMKR'S .Springs and Kisherville Axles, t 21 V. B. DAVIS St CO. SELF FEEDING, HAY, STRAW AND STOCK O U T T E II Vi sizes. Hand or Horse Power; 11 to S25 Cuts from I to 15 liushcls a minute; cay work ed; simple and duralilr. Also, the most simple TURNIP AND CARKOT SLICER, $13 to JIT; a Ihiv, cuts a lui'liel a minute; turned hv OTTI) m: paid rm till tried ii your own Farm. Splendid Iron Handle Lever Hay, Straw and Stock Cutter for f7. Trade kupplied. Send for circulars. (iRANDY, SKINNER 4 PARKKR. Harton Landing, Vt. 43w.1 A Good Dairy Farm for Sale. I will sell at private sale, my FARM pleasant ly located on the Creek road near East Alhany, containing 100 acres of excellent land, well fenc ed ; ore of the (test springs in Orleans county running to house, tiarn ; good neighliors ; a good hop yard on the premises, building good, a nice house and splendid horse hum, a good school ncarJiy; also, a large sii-'itr orchard with 600 Imckets and stirar house, pans and holders, all in good order. Said farm will keep 10 cows and team the year round ; also, a goodly iiuantity of fruit trees This t.irm is known as the Fairman Farm. Also, hay, grain, farming tools, sugar tools and stock w ith the (arm. ;i(.:f NATHANIEL CHAFFEE. Fancy Goods. Customers will always tind a large Stock of the Justly Celebrated EIIIN WATCHES. of all the different qualities and prices, in Coin Silver and Gold Cases ; also, WAIniAM WATCHES. of all varieties, and th best makes of FOREIGN WATCHES, imported expressly for mc and marked with my name, i'or sale at the most ' AVOR A IS L e mac E s anil all fully warranted, at my Store In Barton. I also keep a large assortmen of the very bes S V K C T A C L to be found ia Market andean always suit all eyes that can be benefitted by Spectacles. In Cutlery, such as RAZORS, POCKET KNIVES, SCISSORS, AND SHEARS, I take great pains to get the best goods, and Cus tomers for these articles can be assured that they can get Cutlery made for use and not for ihow merely. If you wants real NO. 1 CLOCK, or any kind of Fancy Goods, or TOYS, CONFECTIONERY, PERFUMERY, MEERSCHAUM and FANCY PIPES, STATIONERY, &c. Come to my place and I will try to furnish you at the lowest prices gooa articles can ocsoiu tor. Watche. and Jewelry repaired in the be. t man. ner and ENGRAVING done in nice styles FREE on Silver Ware sold oj me. Barton, May, 17, 1969. Jacob Flint's Journey. BY BAYAUD TAYLOR. If ever there was a man crushed out of all courage, all 8elf-rcliancc,all comfort in life, it was Jacob Flint. Why this should have been neither he nor any one could have explained ; but so it was. On the day that he first went to school his shy, frightened face marked him as fair jjame for the rougher and stronger boys, and they subjected him to all those exquisite refinements of torture which boys seem to get by the direct inspiration of the devil. There was no form of their brutal strength which he did not experience. He was born under a fading or falling star, the inheritor of some anxious or unhappy mood of his parents, which gave its fast color to the threads out of which his inno cent being was woven. Even the good people of the neigh borhood, never accustomed to look be low the external of appearance and manner, saw in his shrinking face and awkward motions only a sign of a cringing, abject soul. ' You'll be no more of a man than Jake Flint 1" was the reproach which many a fanner ad dressed to his dilitory boy ; and thus the parents, one and all, camo to re peat the sins of their children. If, therefore, at school and " before folk," Jacob's position was always un comfortable and depressing, it was little more cheering at home. His pa rents, as all the neighbors believed, had been unhappily married, and though his mother died in his early childhood, his father remained a moodv unsocial man, who rarely left his farm, except on the 1st of April every year, when he went to the j country town for the purpose of pay-! ing the interest upon the mortgage. ! The farm lay iu a hollow between two j hills, separated from the road by a ; thick wood, and the chimneys of the lonely old house looked in vain for a j neighbor smoke when they began to warm of a morning. Beyond the barn and under the , northern hill there was a log tenant-j house in which dwelt a negro couple, j who, in the course of years, had be- j come fixtures on the place and almost ! partners in it. Harry, the man, was i the medium by which Samuel Flint j kept up his necessary intercourse witli : the world beyond the valley ; he took j the horses to the blacksmiths, the I grain to the mill, the turkeys to mat 11 U-ltl IU bills Ulll. ' U WW IIIU I ket, and through his hands passed all j the incomings and outgoings of the farm, except the annual interest on the mortgage. Sally, his wife, took care of the household, which, indeed, was a light and comfortable task, since the table was well supplied for Vioi na'n eiL-n anil tliorfs ivna rr ulmrn eyes to criticise her sweeping, dusting j and bed-making. The place had a forlorn, tumble-down aspect, quite in keeping with its lonely situation; but perhaps this very circumstance flat tered the mood of its silent, melan choly owner and his unhappy sou. In all the neighborhood there was but one person with whom Jacob felt completely at ease but one who nev er joined in the general habit of mak ing his name the butt of ridicule or contempt. This was Mrs. Aim Par don, the hearty, active wife of Farmer j Robert Pardon, who lived nearly a j mile farther down the brook. Jacob ' had won her good-will by some neigh- borly service, something so trilling, ' indeed, that the thought of a favor i conferred never entered his mind. I Ann Pardon saw that it did not; she j detected a streak of most unconscious i goodness under his uncouth, einbar ! rassed ways, and she determined to cultivate it. No little tact was re quired, however, to coax the wild, forlorn creature into so much confi dence as she desired to establish; but tact is a native ijuality of the heart no less than social acquirement, and so she did the very thing neces sary without thinking much about it. Robert Pardon discovered by and by that Jacob was a stead)', faithful hand in the harvest-field, at husking time, or whenever any extra labor was required, and Jacob's father made Tir fi nontirtn trt hia MrninT n nonnv in this wav ; and so he fell into the i habit of spending his Saturdav even-i ings at the Pardon farm-house, at first i to talk over matters of work, and ! . . . i i i I come relief from his dreary life at home. Now it happened that on Saturday, in the beginning of hay-time, the vil lage tailor sent home by Harry a new suit of light summer clothes, for which Jacob had been measured a month before. After supper he tried them on, the day's work being over, and Sally's admiration Wa3 so loud and emphatic that he felt himself growing red, even to the small of his back. " Now, don't go for to take 'cm off, Mr. Jake," said she. " I spec' you're gwin down to Pardon's, and so you jist keep 'em on to show 'en ail how nice vou KIN look. The same thought had already en tered Jacob's mind. Poor fellow ! it was the highest form of pleasure which he had ever allowed himself to vrt i ll h i conceive, n ne naa oeen cauea upon to pass through the village on first assuming the new clothes, every stitch would have pricked him as if the needles remained in it; but a quiet walk down the brook-side, by the pleasant path through the thickets and over the fragrant meadows, with a consciousness ol lus own neatness and freshness at every step, and with a kind Ann Pardon's recommendation at the close, and the flattering curios ity of the children, the only ones who never made fun of him, all was delightful prospect. He could never, never forget himself as he had seen other young fellows do; but to re member himself agreeably was cer tainly the next best thing. Jacob wa3 already a well-grown mau of twenty-three, and would have made a good enough appearance but for the stoop in his shoulders, and the drooping, uneasy way in which he car ried his head. Many a time, when he was alone in the fields or woods, he had straightened himself, and looked courageously at the buts of the oak trees, or in the very eyes of the indif ferent oxen ; but, when a human face drew near, some spring in his neck seemed to snap, some buckle around his shoulders to be drawn three holes tighter. The ever present thought of his weakness was the only drop of bitterness in his cup, a3 he follow ed the lonely path through the thicket. Some spirit in the sweet, delicious freshness of the air, some voice in the mellow babble of the stream, leaping in and out of sight between the alders, some smile of light, lingering on the rising cornfields beyond the meadow and the melting purple of a distant hill, reached to the seclusion of his heart. Ue was soothed and cheered ; his head lifted itself in the presenti ment of a future less lonely than the past and the everlasting trouble van ished from his eyes. Suddenly, at a turn of the path,two mowers from the meadow, with their scythes upon their shoulders, came upon him. He had not heard their feet upon the deep turf. His chest relaxed, and his head began to sink; then, with the most desperate effort of his life, he lifted it again, and, darting a rapid side glance at the men, hastened by. They could not under stand the mixed look of defiance and supplication of his face; to them he only looked " queer." " Been committin' a murder, have you ?" asked one of them, grinning. " Startin' off' on Lis journey, I guess," said the other. The next instant they were gone, and Jacob, with set teeth and clenched hands, smothered something that would have been a howl if he had given it voice. Sharp lines of pain were marked on his face, and, lor the firt time, the idea of resistance took fierce and bitter possession of his heart. But the mood was too unus ual to last; presently he shook his head, and walked toward Pardon's farm-house. Ann wore a smart gingham dress, and her first exclamation was Jake! how nice vou look. Whv, i And so you know all about it, too?" "' About what ?'' " I see you don't," said she. ''I was too fast ; but it makes no difference. I know you are willing to lend a help ing hand." " O, to be sure," Jacob answered. " And not mind a little company?" Jacob's face suddenly clouded; but he said, though with an effort ; " No not much if I can be of any help." ' It's lather a joke, after all," Ann Pardon continued, speaking rapidly; " thev meant a surprise, a few of the - 1 I 1 J -vou"- l?1 1,ut s,stf Lcck ,0.U"d a way to send me worn, or l might, have been caught like Meribah Johnson last week, in the middle of my work; eight or ten," she, added, '-but many may drop in; audit's mooulight and warm, so they'll be mostly under the trees; and Hubert won't bo home till and I io want help in carrying chairs, and getting up some ice, and handing around ; and, though 1 know you don't care for merry-making, you can help me out, you see " I Here she paused. Jacob looked perplexed, but said nothing. "Becky will help what she can, and while I'm in the kitchen she'll have an eye to tilings outside," she said. Jacob's head was down again, and moreover, turned on one side, but the ear betrayed the mounting blood. Finally lie answered in a quick,husky voice: "Well, I'll do what 1 can. What first?" Thereupon he began to carry some benches from the veranda to a grassy ' bank beside the sycamore tree. Ann Pardon wisely said no more of the I coming surprise party,but kept him so , employed that, as the visitors arrived by twos and threes, the merriment was in full play almost before he was aware of it. Moreover, the night was a protecting presence; a moonlight j poured splendidly upon the turf be i yond the sycamore, but every lilac ' bush and trellis of woodbine made a ! nook of shade, wherein he could pause a moment and take courage for his du- ties. Becky Morton, Ann Pardon's youngest sister, frightened him a lit i tie every time she came to consult about arrangement of seats or the ! distribution of refreshments; but it was a delightful, fascinating fear.such I as he had never felt before in his life. ,Ho k"cw Lccky but he had never seen 1,cr 1,1 whlle,aud PID' Ylth ,floa ,D? tresses until now In fact, he had Larf-V 1?.1kd. at h,cr now as she fflided into the moonlight and he paused in the shadow, his eyes took note of her exceeding beauty. Some sweet, confusing infiuence, he knew not what, passed into his blood. The young men had brought a fid dler from the village, and it was not long before most of the company were treading the measures of reels or cotillons on the gras3. How merrv and happy they all were. How free ly and unembarrasscdly they moved and talked ! By and by all became involved in a dance, and Jacob left alone and unnot iced, drew nearer and nearer the gay and beautiful life from which he was expelled. With a long-drawn scream of the fiddle the dance came to an end, and the dancers, laughing, chattering, pant ing and fanning themselves, broke into groups and scattered over the enclos ure before the house. Jacob was sur rounded before ho could escape. Becky, with two lively girls in her wake, came up to him and said : " O Mr. Flint, why don't you dance?" If he had stopped to consider, he would no doubt have replied very dif ferently. But a hundred questions stirred by what he had seen, were clamoring for light,'' and they threw the desperate impulse to his lips "If I could dance, would you dance with me? The two girls heard the words and looked at Becky with roguish faces, "U yes, take him for your next partner !" cried one. "I will," said Becky, ''after he comes back from ins journey. Then all three laughed. Jacob leaned against a tree, his eyes fixed on the ground. " Is it a bargaiu ?" asked one of the girls. "No, said he, and walked rapidly away. He went to the house, and finding that Robert had arrived, took his hat ana icit uy uie rear uoor. mere was a grassy ally between the orchard and garden, from wliich it was divided by a nign nawtnorn neuge. ne had scarce ly taken three paces on the way to the meadow, when the sound of the voice he had last heard, on the outer side of the hedge, arrested his attention. "Becky, I think you rather hurt Jake Flint," said the girl. "Hardly," answered Becky ; lie's used to that." " " Not if he likes you ; and you might go further and fare worse." " Well, I must say !" Becky exclaim ed, with a laugh ; " you'd like to see me stuck in that hollow, out of your "It's a good farm, I've heard," said the other. " Yes, and covered with as much as it will bear?" Here the girls were called away to the dance. Jacob slowly walked up the dewy meadow, the sounds of fid dling, singing, and laughter growing fainter behind him. "My journey !" he repeated to himself, " my journey ! why shouldn't I start on it now ? Start ofi and never come back 'f It was a very little thing, after all, which annoyed him, but the mention of it always touched a sore nerve of bis nature. A dozen years before, when a boy at school, lie had made a tempor ary friendship with another lxy of his age, ami had one day said to the latter, in the warmth of his first generous con fidence : " When I am a little older, I shall make a great journey, and come back rich, and buy Whitney's place !" Now, Whitney's place, with its stately old brick mansion, its avenues of silver tirs, and its two hundred acres of clean warm-laying land, was the finest, the most aristocratic property in all the neighborhood, and the boy-friend could not resist the temptation ot repeating Jacob's grand design, tor the endless amusement of the school. The betray al hurt Jacob move than the ridicule. It left a wound that never ceased to rankle, yet with the inconceivable per versity of unthinking natures, precisely this joke, (as the people supposed it to be) had been perpetuated, until "Jake Flint's Journey" was a synonym for any absurd or extravagant expectation. Perhaps no one imagined how much iain he was keepintr alive; for almost anv man than Jacob would have joined in the laugh against him and thus good naturedly buried the joke in time. "He's used to that," tin-people said, like Becky Morton, and they really suppos ed there was nothing unkind in the re mark ! After Jacob had passed the thickets and entered the lonely hollow in which his lather's house lay. his pace became slower and slower. He looked at the shabby old building just touched ly the moonlight, behind the swinging shad ows, of the weeping willow, stopped looked again, and finally seated himself on a stump leside the path. "If I knew what to do?" he said to himself, rocking backwards and for wards with his handst clasped over bis knees "If I knew what to do!" The spiritual tension of the evening reached its climax ; he could bear no more. With a strong bodily shudder his tears burst forth, and the passion of his weeping tilled him from head to foot. How long he wept he knew not; it seemed as if the hot fountains would never run dry. Suddenly and starting ly a hand fell upon his shoulder. " Boy, what does this mean T It was his lather who stood before him. Jacob looked up, like some shy ani mal brought to bay, full of a feeling mixed of fierceness and terror; but he said nothing. His father seated himself on one of the roots of the old stump, laid one hand on Jacob's knee, and said, with an unusual gentleness of manner, " I'd like to know what troubles you so much'"' After a pause, Jacob suddenly broke forth with : " Is there any reason why I should tell you? Do you care any more than the rest of 'em ?" "I didn't know as yon wanted me to care for you particularly," said the fath er almost deprecatingly. " I always thought vou had friends of vmir own age." "Friends? Devils ?'' exclaimed Ja cob. " O, w hat havh I done what is there so dreadful about me.that I should always be laughed at, and despised and trampled upon ? Vou are a great deal older than I am, father: what do you see in me? Tell me what it is, and how to get over it !" The eyes of the two men met. Jacob saw his father's face grow pale in the moonlight, while- he pressed his hand involuntarily upon his heart, as if strug gling with some physical pain. At last he spoke, but his words were strange and incoherent. u I couldn't sleep," he said : "I got up again, and came out o' doors. The white ox had broken down the fence at the corner and would soon have been in the cornfield. I thought it was that, maybe, but still your your mother woubi come into my Head, i was com ing down the edge of the wood when I saw you, and I don't know why it was that you seemed so different, all at once" Here he paused, and was silent for a moment. 1 lion lie said in a grave, commanding tone : " Just let me know the whole story. I have that much right yet." Jacob related the history ot the eve ning, somewhat awkwardly and con fusedly it is true ; but his lathers brief. pointed questions kept bun to the nar rative, and forced him to explain the full significance of the expressions he repeated. At the mention of Whitney's place, a singular expression of malice touched trie old man s lace. " Do you love Becky Morton V" he asked bluntly. " I dont know, Jacob stammered; I think not : because when I seem to like her most, I feel afraid of her." It h lucky you re not sure of it !" exclaimed the old man with enenrv : because you siiould never have her. ' " No," said Jacob, with a mournful ac quiescence, " I can never have her, or any other one. "But you shall! and will when I help you. It's true I've not seemed to care much about you, and I suppose you're free to think as you like ; but this I say: I'll not stand by and see you spit npon ! 'Covered with as much as it 11 bear V That is a piece o' luck anyhow. If we're poor, your wife must take your poverty with you, or she uon t come into my doors. But. first of all, you must make your jour ney : "My journey !" repeated Jacob. "Weren t you thinking of it this i i i . i iugut, oeiore you iook your seat on that stump ? A little more, and you'd have cone clean on, 1 reckon. Jacob was silent, and hung Ms head. " Never mind ! Fve no right to think hard of it. In a week we'll have fin ished our haying, and then it's a fort night to wheat ; but, lor that matter, Harry and I can manage the wheat bv ourselves, lou may take a month, two months, if anything comes of it. Under a month I don't mean that you hall come back. Til give you twenty dollars for a start ; if you want more, yon must earn it on the road, any way you please. . And, mark you, Jacob since you are poor, don't let anybody suppose you are rich, t or my part, J place; all I ask is that you'll tell me, fair and square, just what things and what people you've got acquainted with. Get to bed now : the matter's settled ; I will have it so." They rose and walked across the meadow to the house. Jacob had quite forgotten the events of the evening in the new prospect suddenly opened to him, which filled him with a wonderful confusion of fear and desire. His fath er said nothing more. They entered the lonely house together at midnight, and went to their beds ; but Jacob slept very little. Six days afterwards he left home, on a sparkling June morning, with a small bundle tied in a yellow bankerchief un der his arm. His father had furnished him with the promised money, but had positively refused to tell him what road he should take, or what pl.m of action he should adopt. The only stipulation was that his absence from home should not be less than a month. After he had passed the wood and reached the highway which followed the course of the brook, he paused to consider what course to take. South ward the road led past I'-irdon's, and he longed to see his only Mends once more before encountering untried haz ards; but the village was beyond, and he had no courage to walk through its one long street with a bundle, denoting a journey, under his arm. Northward he would have to pass the. mill and blacksmith's shop at the cross-roads. Then he remembered that he might easily wade the stream at a point where it was shallow, ami keep in the shelter of the woods on the opposite lull until ic struck the road farther on, and in that direction two or throe miles would ake him into a neighborhood where he was not known. Once in the woods, an exquisite sense f freedom came upon him. There was nothing mocking in the soft, graceful stir ot the expanded loiiago, m the wittering ot the uiilnglitcncd I um r the scampering lead leaves. of the rustling carpet lie lay down upon the preading beach tree and but thoughts would not f moss under a s tried to think ; come, lie could not even Cieariy re- ill the keen troubles and mortifications e had endured; all things were so icaceiui and iioautiiui mat a portion ot icir peace and boautv fell upon men and invested them with a more kiudlv haracter. Towards noon Jacob found hiniM-lf icvond the limited geography i ins ifo. The first man he encountered was stranger, who greeted him with a leartv and rcspociiui, "1 low un vou io. ir?" "Porh a s," llloll different ght J; from i b. -I m not so verv :' I onlv tl: oiejlit so myself." At noon he stopped ;.l a tiuiii-house v the road-ido i get a drink ot water. pleasant woman, who came from the i oor at that moment with a pitcher,! llowed him to lower the bucket find uiwl it up dripping with precious cool- ; ness. Mie looKe.l upon nun mill goou will, for he had allowed her to see his yes, and something in their honest, a- 'caluig expression went to her heart. e ro going to have dinner lit he minutes, said she; "won t vou ta v and ike something ?" Jacob stayed and brake bivad with :ie plain, hospitable family. Their kindly attention to him diiringtho meal jave him the lacking nerve; tor a mo ment he resoived to otter Ins cv ic s to farmer, but he piv-vntly saw thev were not really needed, and, oesides, the place was still too near home. Toward night he reached an old ountry tavern, lording it over an inci ient village of six houses. The land rd and hostler were inspecting a i 1 1 o rl i it ,1. 1 1 1 1 r li.o-s. i'i f'r.mt ,.1'tlto tables. Xow, if there n as anything ' which Jacob understood, to the extent i 1" his limited experience, it w as horse nature. 1 Ie drew near, listened to the iews of the two men, examined the iiumal with his eyes, and was ready to mswer, Yes, T guess si." when the andlord said. "Perhaps sir. you can tell what is the matter w;th him." His prompt detection of the ailment. md proscription of a remedy which in an hour showed its good effects itistrd- 1 him in the landlord's good graces. The latter said : "Well, it shall cost you nothing to-night," r.s be led tho wav to the supper room. When Jacob went to bed, ho was sunirise.l on re- i ting that ho had not onlv been talk-! ing a lull hour in the bar-room, but had been looking the pcoido in tho face. Resisting an oiler of good wages, if ho would stay and look after the sta bles, he set forward the next niornimr with a new and most delightful oonti- lonco in himself. The knowledge that now nohody know him as "Jake rlnit mite removed his tortured self-consci ousness. nen he met a person who was gluni and ungracious ot speech, he saw, nevertheless, that he was not its special object. He was sometimes ask ed questions, to he sure, which a little embarrassed him, but he soon hit upon answers w hich wore sufficiently true without betraying his purpose. Wandering sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left, ho slowly made his way into the land, until, on the afternoon of the fourth day after leaving home, he found himself in a rougher region a rocky, hilly tract, with small and not very flourishing farms in the valleys. Here the season seemed to be more backward than in the open country; the hay harvest was not yet over. Jacobs taste for scenery was not particularly cidtivated, but something in the loneliness and quiet of the farms reminded him of his own home ; and he looked at one house alter another. leliberating with himself whether it would not bo a good place to spend the remainder ot his month ot probation. He seemed to be very far from home. aln ut 40 miles, in fact, and w as be ginning to feel a little tired of wander ing. Finally the road climbed a low pass of the hills, and dropped into a yalley on the opposite side, there was but one house in view a two-story build ing of logs and plaster, w ith a garden on the hillside in the rear. A" large meadow stretched in front, and where the whole of it lay stretched before him, as the road issued from a wood, his eye wa3 caught by an unusual har vest picture. Directly before him.a woman,whose face was concealed by a huge, flapping sun-bonnet,wa3 seated upon a mowing machine, guidiDg a span of horses around the great tract of thick grasa which was still uncut. A little dis tance off, a boy and girl were raking the drier swarths together, and a hay cart, drawn by oxen and driven by a man, wa3 just entering the meadow from the side next the barn. Jacob hung his bundle upon a stake, threw his coat and waistcoat over the rail, and, resting his chin on his shirt ed armcs, leaned on the fence and watched the haymakers. A3 the wo man came down the next side, she ap peared to notice him, for her head was turned from time to time in his direc tion. When she had made the round she stopped the horses at the corner, sprang lightly from the seat and called to the man, who, leaving his team,met her half way. They were nearly a furlong distant, but Jacob was quite sure that she pointed to him, and that the man looked in the same direction. Presently she set off across the mead ow, directly towards him. When within a few paces of tho fence, she stopped, and said : " Good day to you !" Jacob was so amazed to see a bright, fresh, girlish face,that he stared at her with all his eyes, forgetting to drop his head. Indeed, he could not have done so, for his chin was propped up on the top rail of the fence. " You're a stranger, I see," she ad ded. "Yes, in these parts," he replied. "Looking for work?" He hardly knew what answer to make, so he said at a venture, "That's as it happens." Then he colored a little, for the words seemed foolish to his ears. "Time's precious," said the girl, "so I'll tell you at once we want help. Our hay must be got in while the fine weather lasts." "I'll help you !" Jacob exclaimed, taking his arms from the rail and look ing as willing a3 he felt. "I'm so glad ! But I must tell you at first that we're not rich, and the hands are asking a great deal now. How much do you expect?" "Whatever you please," said he, climbing the fence. "No, that's not our way of doing business. What do you say to a dol lar a day and found ?" "All right," and with these words he was already at her side, taking long strides over the elastic turf. -I will go on with my mowing," said she, "and you can rake and load with my father. What name shall I call you by ?" "Everybody calls me Jake." "Jake ! Jacob is better. Well Ja cob, I hope you'll give us all the help you can." With a nod and a light laugh she sprang upon the machine. There was a sweet throb in Jacob's heart, which, if he could have expressed it, would have been a triumphant shout of "I'm not afraid of her !" The fanner was a kindly, depressed man. with whose quiet ways Jacobin stantly felt himself at home. They worked steadily until sunset, when the girl, detaching her horses from the machine, mounted one of them and led the other to the barn. At the supper table the farmer's wife said : " Susan, you must be very tired." "Not uow, mother," she cheerily an swered. I was. I think, but after I picked up Jacob I felt sure we should get our hay in." "It's a good thing," said the farmer, " Jacob don't need to be told how to work" Poor Jacob ! he was so happy he could have cried. He sat and listened and blushed a little, with a smile on his face that it was a pleasure to sec. The honest people did not seem to regard him in the least astrauger; they dis cussed their family interests and hopes and troubles before him, and iu a lit tle while it seemed as if he had known them always. How faithfully he worked ! How fi13'-1 antl iifetl lie iett when niglil came, and the hay-mow was failed, and the great stacks grew beside the barn ! But ah ! the haying came to an end. and on the last evening, at supper, everybody was constrained and silent. Even Susan looked grave and thought ful. "Jacob," said the farmer, firmly," I wish we could keep you until the wheat harvest : but you know we are poor, and cannot afford it. Perhaps you could " lie hesitated ; but Jacob, catching at the chance and obeviug his own unselfish impulse, cried : O ves, I can. I'll be satisfied with my board, till the wheat's ripe." Susan looked at him quickly ; with a bright, speaking face. "It's hardly fair to you," said the farmer. 'But I like to be here so much !" Jacob cried. "I like all of you!" "We do seem to suit," said the far mer, "like as one family. And that reminds me, we've not heard your fam ily name vet." ""Flint."' j "Jacob Flint !" exclaimed the farm er's wife, with sudden agitation. Jacob was scarlet and troubled. They had heard of him, then, and who knew what ridiculous stories ? Susan noticed an anxiety on his face that she could not understand, but she un knowingly came to his relief. "Why, mother," she asked, "do you know Jacob's family ?"' "No, I think not," said her mother ; "only somebody of the name long ago." His offer, however, was gratefully accepted. The hot summer days came and went, but no flower of July ever opened as rapidly and richly and warmly as his chilled, retarded nature. New thoughts and instincts came with every morning's sun. and new conclusions , were reached with every eveniug's twilight. Yet as the wheat harvest drew toward3 the end, he felt that he must leave the place. The month of absence had gone by, he scarce knew how. He was free to return home,and,though he might offer to bridge over the gulf between wheat and oats,a3 he had already done be tween hay and wheat, he imagined the family might liesitate to accept such an offer. Moreover, this life at Susan's side was fast growing to be a pain, unless he could assure himself that it would be gone forever. They were in the wheat field busy with the last sheaves, she raking and he binding. The farmer and younger children had gone to the barn with a load. Jacob was working silently and steadily, but, when he reached the end of a row, he stopped, wiped his wet brow and suddenly 6aid, "Susan, I suppose to-day finishes my work here." " Yes," she answered very slowly. "And yet, I'm very sorry to go." "I we don't want you to go, if we could help it." Jacob appeared to struggle with himself. He attempted to speak. "If I could " he brought out, and then paused. : "Susan, would yon be glad if I came back r His eyes implored her to read his No doubt sue read it cor rectly, for her face flushed, her eye lids fell, and she barely murmured, " Yes, Jacob." "Then I'll come !" he cried. " I'll come and help you with your oats ; don't talk of pay 1 Only tell me I'll be welcome. Susan, don't you believe I'll keep my word ?" "I do, indeed," said she, looking him firmly in the face. That was all that was said at the time; but the two understood each other tolerably well. On the afternoon of the second day Jacob saw again the lonely house of his father. His journey was made, yet, if any one of his neighbors had seen him, they would never have believed that he had come back rich. Samuel Flint turned away to hide a peculiar smile when he saw his son ; but little was said until late that even ing, after Harry and Sally had left. Then he required and received an ex act account of Jacob's experience dur ing his absence. After hearing the story to the end, he said, "And so you love this Susan Meadows ?" "I'd I'd do anything to be with her." "Are you afraid of her ?" "No !" Jacob uttered the word so emphatically that it rung through the house. "Ah, well," said the old man, lifting up his eyes and speaking in the air, "all the harm may be mended yet. But there must be another test." lie was silent for some time. "I have it !" he exclaimed. "Jacob, you must go back for the oats harvest. You must ask Susan to be your wife, and ask her parents to let you have her. But, mark my words ! you must tell her that you are a poor, hired man on this place, and that she can be engag ed as housekeeper. Don't sneak of me as your father, but as the owner of the farm. Bring her here in that be lief, and let me see how willing and honest she is. I can easily arrange matters with Harry and Sally while you are away; and I'll only ask you to keep up the appearance for a month or two." "But, father, " Jacob began. "Not a word ! Are you not willing to do that much for the sake of having her all your life, and this farm after me ? Suppose it is covered with a mortgage, if she is all you say, you two can take it off. Not a word more, it is no lie, after all. that vou will tell her." "I am afraid," said Jacob, " that she could not leave her home now. She is too useful there, and the family is so poor." "Tell them that both your wages, for the first year, shall go to them. It'll be my business to rake and scrape the money together somehow. Say, too, that the housekeeper's place can not be kept for her must be filled at once. Push matters like a man, if you mean to be a complete one. and bring her here, if she carries no more with her than the clothes on her back." During the following days Jacob had time 10 familiarize his mind with this startling proposal. He knew his fa ther's stubborn will too well to sup pose that it could be changed ; but the inevitable soon converted itself into the possible and desirable. The sweet face of Susan, as she had stood before i him in the wheat field, was continually present to his eyes, and ere long he began to place her, in his thoughts, iu the old rooms at home, in the gar den, among the thickets by the brook, and in Ann Pardon's pleasant parlor. Enough : his father's plan became his long before the the time was out. On his second journev everybody seemed to be an old acquaintance and an intimate friend. It was evening as he approached the Meadows farm, but the younger children recognized him in the dusk, and their cry of " 0, here's Jacob !" brought out the farmer and his wife and Susan, with the heart iest of welcomes. They had all miss ed him, they said ; even the horses and oxen had looked for him, and they were wondering how they should get the oats harvested without him. Jacob looked at Susan as the farmer said this, and her eyes seemed to an swer, "1 said nothing, but I knew you would come." Then, first, he felt cour age for the task before him. He rose the next morning before any one was stirring, and waited until she should come down. The sun had not risen when she appeared, with a milk pail in each hand, walking un suspectingly to the cow-yard. He way-laid her, took the pails in his hands and said, "Susan, will you be my wife ?" She stopped as though she had re ceived a sudden blow; then a shy, sweet consent seemed to run through her heart. "O Jacob !" was all she could say. "But you will, Susan ?" he urged ; and then (neither of them exactly knew how it happened) all at once his arms Were around her, and they had kissed each other. "Susan," he said presently, I am a poor man only a farm hand, and must work for a living. You could look for a better husband." " I could never find a better than you, Jacob." "Would you work with me, too, at the same place ?" "You know I am not afraid of work," she answered, "and I could never want any other lot than yours." Then he told the story which his fa ther had prompted. Her face grew bright and happy while she listened, and he saw how from her very heart she accepted the humble fortune. Only the thought of her parents threw a cloud over the new and astonishing vision. Jacob, however, grew bolder as he saw fulfillment ot bis hopes so near. They took the pails and seated themselves beside neighbor cows, one raising objections and misgivings which the other manfully combated. Jacob's earnestness uuconsciouslv ran into his hands, as he discovered when the impatient cow began to snort and kick. The harvesting of the oats was not commenced that morning. The chil dren were sent away, and there was a council of four persons held in the parlor. The result of mutual protes tations and much weeping was, that the farmer and his wife agreed to re ceive Jacob as a son-in-law; the offer of the wages was four times refused bv them, and then accented : and the chance of their being able to live and labor together was finally decided to be too fortunate to let Blip. When the shock and surprise was over all gradually became cheerful, and, as the matter was more calmly discussed, the first conjectured difficulties some how resolved themselves into trifles. It was the simplest and quietest wedding-at home, on an August morn ing. Farmer Meadows then drove the bridal pair half way on their jour ney, to the country tavern, where a fresh conveyance had been engaged for them. The same evening they reached the farm-house in the valley, and Jacob's happy mood gave place to anxious uncertainty as he remembered the period of deception upon which Susan was entering. He keenly watched his father's face when they arrived, and was a little relieved when he saw that his wife had made a good first impression. "So this is my new housekeeper," said the old man. "I hope you will suit me as well as your husband does." "I'll do my best, sir," said she; "but you must have patience with me for a few days, until I know your ways and wishes." "Mr. Flint," said Sally, "shall I get supper ready ? Susan looked up in amazement at hearing the name. "les, the ola man remarked ; "we both have the same name. The fact is, Jacob and I are a sort of relations Jacob, in spite of his new happiness, felt ill at ease, although he could not help seeing how his father brightened under Susan s genial influence.how sat isfied he was with her quick, neat, cx act ways, and the cheerfulness with which she fulfilled her duties. At the end of a week, the old man counted out the wages agreed upon for both, and his delight culminated at the frank simplicity with which Susan took what she supposed she had fairly earned. "Jacob," he whispered, when she had left the room, "keep quiet one more week, and then I'll let her know.' He had scarcely spoken when Su san broke into the room again, crying, "Jacob, they are coming, they have come !" "Who?" "Father and mother; we didn't ex pect them, vou know, for a week yet." All three went to the door as the visitors made their appearance on the verandah. Two of the party stood as if thunderstruck, and two excla mations came together : "Samuel Flint !" "Lucy Wheeler !" There was a moment's silence; then the farmer's wife, with a visible effort to compose herself, said, "Lucy Mead ows, now." The tears came into Samuel Flint's eyes. "Let's shake hands Lucy," he said ; "my son has married your daugh ter." All but Jacob were freshly startled at these words. The two shook hands, and then Samuel, turning to Susan's father, said : "And tbi3 13 your hus band, Lucy. I am glad to make his acquaintance." "Your father, Jacob !" cried Susan, "what does it all mean ?" Jacob's face glowed red, and his old habit of hanging his head nearly came back upon him. He knew not what to say, and looked wistfully at hi3 fa ther. Come into the house and sit down," said the latter, "I think we shall all feel better when we have quietly and comfortably talked the matter over." They went into the quaint, old fash ioned parlor, which had already been transformed by Susan's care, so that much of its shabbiness vas hidden. When all were seated, and Samuel Fiiut perceived that none of the others knew what to say, he took a resolution which, for a man of his mood and habit of life, required some courage. "Three of us here are old people," he began, "and the two young ones love each other. It was so long ago, Lucy, that it cannot be laid to my blame if I speak of it now. Your husband, I see, has an honest heart, and will not misunderstand either of us. The same thing often turns up in life ; it is one of those secrets that everybody knows, and that everybody talks about except the persons con cerned. When 1 was a young mau, Lucy, I loved you truly, and I faith fully meant to make you my wife. 'I thought so, too, for a while, said she, very calmly. Farmer Meadows looked at his wife, and no face was ever more beautiful than his, with that expression of gen erous pity shining through it. "You know how I acted," Samuel Flint continued,"but our children must also know that I broke off from you, not giving any reason. A woman came between us and made all the mischief. was considered rich then, and she wanted to secure my money for her daughter. I was an innocent and un suspecting young man, who believed that everybody else was as good as my self; aud the woman never rested until she had turned me from my first love, and fastened me for life to another. Little by little I discovered the truth ; I quickly got rid of the money which had so cursed me, and brought my wife to this.the loneliest and dreariest place in the neighborhood, where I forced upon her a life of poverty. I thought it a just revenge, but I was unjust. She really loved me ; she was, if not quite without blame in the matter, ig norant of the worst that had been done (I learned all that too late), and she never complained, though the change in me slowly wore out her life. I know now that I was cruel ; but at the same 1 time I punished myself, and wa3 inno cently punishing my son. But, to him, there was one way to make amends. ' I will help him to a wife,' I saidwho will gladly take poverty with him for his sake.' I forced , hinc against his will, to say that he was a hired man on thi3 place, and that busan must be con tent to be a hired housekeeper. Now that I know Susan,I see that this proof might have been left out ; but I guess it ha3 done no harm. The place is not so heavily mortgaged as people think, and it will be Jacob's after I am gone. And now forgive me all of you, Lu cy first, for she has most cause ; Jacob next ; and Susan, that will be easier ; and you friend Meadows, if what have said has been hard for you to hear." The farmer stood up like a man, took Samuel's hand and his wife'e,and said in a broken voice : "Lucy, I too, ask vou to forgive him, and I ask you both to be good friends to each otn er." Susan dissolved in tears, kissed all-r of them in turn; but the happiest heart there was Jacob's. a It was now easy for him to confide to his wife the complete story of his troubles, and to find his growing self reliance strengthened by her quick, intelligent sympathy. The Pardons were better friends than ever, and the fact, which at first created much as tonishment in the neighborhood, that Jacob Flint had really gone on a jour ney and brought home a handsome wife, began to change the attitude of the people towards him. The old place was no longer lonely; the near est neighbors began to drop in and insist on return visits. Now that Ja cob kept his head up, aud they got a fair view of his face, they discovered that he was not lacking, after all, in sense or social qualities. In October,the Whitney place, which had been leased for several years.was advertised to be sold at public sale. The owner had gone to tho city and became a successful merchant, had outlived his local attachments, and now took advantage of a rise in real estate to disburden himself of proper ty which he could not profitably con trol. Everybody from far and near attend ed the sale, and.when Jacob Flint and his father arrived, everybody said to the former : "Of course you've come to buy, Jacob." But each man laugh ed at his own smartness, and consid ered the remark original with him self. Jacob was no longer annoved. He laughed, too, and answered : afraid I can't do that ; but I've "I'm kept than halt mv word, which is more most men do." "Jake's no fool, after all," was whis pered behind him. The bidding commenced, at first very spirited,and then gradually slack ened off, as the amount gradually rose beyond the means of the neighboring farmers. The chief aspirant was a stranger, a well dressed man with a lawyer's air, whom nobody knew. After the usual long paascs and pas sionate exhortations the hammer fell, and the auctioneer, turning to the stranger, asked. "What name?" " Jacob Flint!" There was a general cry of surprise. All looked at Jacob, whose eyes and mouth showed that he was as dumb founded as the rest. The stranger walked coolly through the midst of the crowd to Samuel Flint and said : " When shall I have the papers drawn up ?" "As soon as you can," the old man replied ; then seizing Jacob by the arm with the words, "Let's go home, now P he hurried him off. The explanation soon leaked out. Samuel Flint had not thrown away his wealth, but had put it out of hi3 own hands. It was given privately to trustees, to be held for his son,and returned when the latter should have married with his father's consent. ' There was more than enough to buy the Whitney place. Jacob aud Susan are happy in their stately home, and good as they are happy. Jf any person in the neigh borhood makes use of the phrase, " Jacob Flint's Journey." he intends thereby to symbolize the good fortune which sometimes follows honesty, reticence, and shrewdness. Eome and London. Here are a few statistics given in the Examiner in October, 1868: Births. Legitimate. Illegitimate. London, 75,007 3.203 Paris, 19,921 9,707 Brussels, 3,448 1,833 Monaco, 1,854 1,762 Vienna, 8,821 10,360 Eome, 1,215 3,160 Being in the following proportions per cent.: Illegitimate, London 4; Paris 48; Brussels 53; Monaco 91; Vienna 118; Rome 243. As to crimes of violence murderers England, 1 in every 178,000; Holland, 1 in eve ry 163.000; Prussia, 1 in every 100, 000; Austria 1 in every 77,000; Spain 1 in every 4,113; Naples 1 in every 2,750 ; Roman States, 1 in ev ery 750. As to the religious aspect of the place, from the same authority we learn that troops of monks and priests, or boys training for such, are to be seen at all honrs in the streets of Rome. The shops are closed on festa days, much to the disgust of their owners ; and the churches are crowded with women, whilst the male portion of the popnlation of the low er order spend their time in lounging , about the different osterias both with in and without the walls. It has been often remarked, that of all the long train of cardinals, bishops, ecclesias tical dignitaries, and other worship pers who attend the great ceremonies of the Church, the venerable Pontiff alone manifests reverence and devo tion ; while it is proverbial that the purity of his life forms a striking con trast to that ot many of his court." Infidelity and beggary, the grossest superstition and ignorance, fostered by those whose duty it should be to , dispel it, secret spies, treason by the hearth of the poor man, misery and slavery these arc the results of that " religious atmosphere of which Arch bishop Manning boasts. A French clergyman has invented a novel plan for increasing the contri butions known as Peter's pence. Hav ing doubtless read Mr. Hale's 8tory ' of "The Rag-Man and the Rag-Wo man, he advertises that he will ac cept old paber which he will sell by the pound and transmit the proceeds to the Pope. An English lawyer was lately an nounced to read a paper before an an tiquarian society on the "Head-gear of the ancients." Instead of showing specimens of hemlets, the lecturer pro duced a collection of bonnets of vari-, ous periods from 1805 to the present day, and caused great amusement among hi3 auditors. Make good use of time if you love eternity.