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7 - ' ■ > wn è, if A A VOL. 2. MIDDLETOWN, NEW CASTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 12, 1869. NO. 24. ENOCH L. JeIARLAN, »Ü1 MAllKKT STREET, Formerly of the Finit of Harlan <fc Bro. DEALEli IN FINE GROCERIES PBOVISIONS, Foreign Fruits, DOMESTIC FRUITS, GUNNING MATERIAL, Fishing Tackle, WfiODES WARE, SALT, OILaS, Teas, &c. W ! are prepared to supply buyers from the country with the above goods at the low est prices. Our stock once tried will) recommend itself, ns great care has been used in its selection. We respectfully solicit an examination. ENOCH iL. HARLAN, Formerly of the firm of Harlan k Bro. Wilmington, fX-l, JBfoOrders by mail promptly filled, and goods delivered at any Depot, Steamboat or Express Office free of charge. May 22—3mos. NEW STOVE, TIN, AM) HOUSE-FURNISRING STOEE. THOMAS II. ROTIIWEE.L Respectfully announces to the Public that he has removed liis Store to his NEW BUILDING, Worth Side of Main Street, 4 Buildings West of Town Hull, Middletown, Delaware. Where he has constantly on hand, and is • prepared to manufacture ALL KINDS OF TIN WARE, At Short Notice. ORDERS for ROOFING & SPOUTING Respectfully Solicited and Promptly attended to STOVES, .JAPANNED WARE, TIN WARE, Ac. Ac. Constantly on hand and at the Lowest Cash Prices. Mr. R. E. Knightoil, well known as a skilf ul workman, is our Foreman, and will give his personal attention to the business. The following Cobk Stoves are on sale and recommended to the Public : THE NATIONAL, (Niagara Improved.) THE TIMES, THE CHARM, THE CONTINENTAL, AND THE PRIZE. The first named is guaranteed to give perfect satisfaction, and it is believed the others will also. The following Parlor Stoves are offered to the Public, and believ ed to be equal to. any other Stoves in the market : THE UNION AIR-TIGHT, TIIE GEM, THE DIAL, ELM BASEl BOQlfET BASE, and THE BRILLIANT. Orders will .be received and promptly filled for any kind of Stove that may bo desired. Prompt attention to business , moderate prices, competent workmen, and a deter mination to please, may at all times be ex pected by those who may favor him with their cu.tom. M»y 1—ly PATENT INDIGO BLUEING BAG, THE MOST ECONOMICAL, CLEANLY k COMPLETE ARTICLE ever USED By thrifty Housekeepers and Laundresses. E ACH Bag is provided with a Box so that it can be put safely away ail soon as used. PRICE 20 Cts—HALF SIZE 10 Cts. . This blue contains no acid, and will not injure the finest fabrics. One tweuty cent bag will out last eight two-ounce vials of Liquid giving a softer color and avoiding the danger and annoyance of broken and uncorked Bullies. Patented Doc. 24, lStf7, auditor sale by Plymouth Color Co. C. T[ Kaynulus k Co. 100* 108 Fi)lton Street, N. Ï. « Grocery. Blue, besides Jnyuire for it at any April 3—Smog. Fashionable Dressmaking, MRS. ANNJ8 M. WYANT, L ATE of Philadelphia, offers lier services to the Ladies of Middletown ind vicinity. Ail kinds of Dress Making promptly attended to. Dresses cut and fitted ffnd an (jlegant fit guarau ï street, five doors lawnre. teed. Pattern» for sale. -L east of Broad, Middletown, May B—tf. #ftcrt §oetrg. AN OLD SIAN'S DREAM. Besides a stream whose liquid beam Was carolling and shining, As dewy blades and azure flowers Harmoniously were twining; An old man sut, and heeded not The bliss below—above him ; sighed, that in a lovely snot o heart was there to love him. nut No From bower and tree the bird and bee Flew lmppy ever singing, While from a tower across the lea, A marriage betl was ringing. The old weuded to the place, And met tho people leaving ; » looked upon each sunn^* face, And staid uwhile his grieving. But as thej' left, again bereft (if joy, he looked above him, And sighed, though all the sky was blue, That there was none to love him. Again he And rested sad and weary, Upon its mossy bank to dream A vision bright and cheery. lie seemed to roam a land of love, Where lute-toned bells were ringing, And decked with jewelled light was one Whose speech was more than singing. •mory's morning light, That beamed on earth above him : lie »lumbered, woke, and found that night, God, heaven, nnd her to love him. He gilt the wildwood stream, Oh sbe w THE SAPPHIRE RING. The last mutterings of the French Rev olution were dying away amid the eeliocs of tho victorious cannon which heralded the Empire. It was one of those nights of sleet and cold that empty tho streets of Paris, and till its theatres and cabarets. Through a lovely street iq the quarter known as Clcte," and which is, ill fact, the oldest part of Paris! a man, wrapped iu a large cloak, his hat drawn well down to shed*the "la sleet from his face, pushed hastily along. He was a tall fellow, walked with a long springing stride—the quick, elastic step of youth—and was evidently in a hurry to get home, or somewhere else, out of the rain and cold. Stepping closer to the house, to avoid a puddle of muddy water, his foot struck against something lying on the pavement, ami ho saved himself from a headlong fall only by a very creditable gymnastic effort. At the same time some thing between a groan nnd a sigh, seemed to come up from the stumbling block. Recovering himself, and peering down, a light, not unlike that from a cat's eye seen through tho dark, shone upwards from the ground. The young man pushed the brim of his flapped hat up from his face, threw back his cloak, and, stooping down, felt about with his hands. lie made out that a wo man's body was crouched down in an an gle of an old wall, a place where the dark ness was almost tangible, with the feet sticking out towards the "trottoir," or sidewalk. His first idea was that a crime had been committed, and the body of the victim thrust into that obscure corner ; but as he passed his hands over the clothes and shawl, which marked the sex of the object, he felt, or thought he felt, a feeble flutter ing of the heart. His next idea, there fore, was that of a man of generosity and action, and ho accordingly executed it. lie picked the woman up in his arms, and carried her" a hundred yards on to where a street lamp winked and glimmered through the foggy mist. The woman's head hung helplessly over his shoulder, and her arm dropped along her sido, limp and useless. She was not dead, hut so near it that an hour or two more lying out there in the street, would have finished for her all the sorrows of earth. Her clothes were very poor and thin ; and her shawl though of a good fabric, old and threadbare. That he bow with the first rays which fell on her from the ptrect lamp. But those rays showed him some thing else ; for, looking dawn, he saw what had seemed like a cat's eye in the dark ness. It was a sapphire ring of price. She wore the ring on tho second finger of her left hand, and the bezel was turned inwards to the palm of the hand. Between tho great value of tho jewel and tho squalid garments, the contrast was strange and striking. Then the young man raised the head, lying with closed eyes on his shoulder, nnd saw that it was young ; pale, almost corpse like, and so thin and drawn that the cheek bones stood out unnaturally—but it was clearly a young face. A strange face, too, even in its dead power. A low, womanly forehead, now half covered with a mass of blonde hair, not without many threads of Venice gold woven in it. Strong brows above the hollows of the closed eyeB, and a nose only saved from being Grecian by a slight indentation below the forehead, and having a pieoe, as it were, chipped off the ^nd of it. AU this the young man buw in scant three seconds of clock timo ; and in three more he had flung his great cloak around them both, gathered the woman closer in his arms, and was trudging on with the step of one who has mado up his mind, d knows exactly what he means to do. Without meeting Gend' arme or Ser geant de Ville, he reached the next street, and a minute after drew the cord of the Sonnette,' and passed through the Porter's lodge of a gloomy looking old hotel. The concierge opening for him, rubbed his eyes and gaped ; then opened them still wider, as he perceived the burden an he bore. "Hold, " That is a Monsieur Henry," said he. queer booty you have there." " Silence!" said the young man, briefly and authoritivcly. "Is the fire lighted in my apartments?" "All right!" answered tho concierge, drawing himself up stiff as a ramrod, and making tho military salute. " Then bring hot water there instant ly," said the young man. With that he passed out of the porter's lodge, to the " pavilion," a suite of rooms on the ground floor, and opening on the garden. " That means be deaf, dumb, and blind !" said the porter, looking after him, and muttering to himself. " Hear noth ing, see nothing, say nothing, no matter what I do, Connu monsieur. An old sol dier obeys the consign. But, mille pipes what a bundle of rags he has there ; he who, where fine women were as plenty as blackberries, never troubled his head about them." So muttering, ho went off after the hot water. W'hen the young man had carried his burden into his apartments he laid it on the sofa. A fire of sticks was burning iu a tiro place, ancient, of th; day.; of Henry VI. and lit up, with intermittent flame, an apartment of considerable size, all the hangings atid furniture of which were as old as the fire place, of carved wood, which rose at the middle in a sculptured peak almost to the ceiling. The young man lighted the candles in the silver sconces on tho mantle shelf, and, taking one of them down, examined, for a moment, with it the woman he had brought there. Then he took a flask of brandy, and, with much patient trouble, sucoeeded in getting a little of it down her throat. By this time the porter came with the hot water. " Set it down there, Pierrie," said the young man, pointing to tho coiner of the fire—" then go, and remember I am alone ; but no one, except yourself, en ters that door." " Connu Monsieur le -" " Silence, idiot," interrupted the young mull, sternly. " I am plain, Henry Beau vallon. Don't forget it again, or-" " That " or" must have meant some thing very disagreeable to the last degree, for Pierre Poitou uttered another " Con nu , " saluted and vanished with extreme haste. Then Monsieur Bovallon drew tho sofa close to the fire, and throwing oft' coat, stock and waistcoat, went to work in a workmanlike manner. You would have said, had you seen him, that it wns a sur geon, or at least a very handy hospital as sistant doing his best for a wounded com rade. He bathed the girl's face and head with some strong and exhilarating essence, mixed with water, from time to time a few drops of cordial between her lips, and laid clothes steeped in brandy upon her chest and the pit of lier stomach. These operations were mixed with fre quent consultations of the pulse of the young girl, ns he felt doubtful or assured of his ability to restore her to life, or, to speak more accurately, to snatch her back from that torpor of death into which she had fallen. Then this eccentric Beauvallon, acting much more like a mother to her baby than a tall follow of twenty-five to a young woman, carefully removed the girl's mud dy shoes and worn stockings, and having washed her limbs with hot water, pro ceeded to bathe and rub them continuously with warm brandy. ' Over tho red coals in the chimney, too, he had placed a small tripod, and on it a covered silver dish, from which, as it grow hot, came tho gra cious smell of a very fragrant soup. Into this he stirred full a pint of wine before taking it off the coal. Success, not enough to awaken confi dence, but sufficient to stimulate continued effort, had rewarded these exertions. A little warmth returned gradually to the chilled limbs of his patient. Her breath ing became perceptible, and towards the last her eyes opened a little. She seemed indeed to be making powerful but vain efforts to lift the heavy lids which drooped over them with a heavy weight. Once he even thought that she was momentarily consoious and looked at him with a kind of dreamy gratitude. " Mademoiselle," ho said, safo. You uro with 1'iicnds. exertion even to think, all shall bo well." Then he said to himself: " Reaction has commenced, some shock prevent, she is saved, act quickly," He bad not taken time to remove her damp shawl and dress ; hut now, going quickly into tho adjoining room, he re turned with a large and heavy blanket, and a broad-bladcd dagger. This dagger was not for any deadly use- On the con trary, it was to play the part of a peaceful pair of scissors ; for he used it very quickly and skillfully to slither dress in suoll and so many places, that it fell off almost without moving her. Then wrapping her in the blanket till she was swathed like a mummy, he began to food her with the soup from the silver diah by small spoon fuls. and at intervals of a few moments. " you Make With God's help, arc no Unless Ret us Half an hour afterwards the death-like color -had gone from the young girl's face. Her eyes were firmly closed, but her lips wore half opened, and beneath the folds of the blanket her bosom rose and fell with a regular breathing. She was sleeping—not indeed the strong sleep of health ana strength—but a sleop calm, deep, and such as gives nature, es pccially in the young, time to cure worse evils than ^exhaustion from fatigue and hunger. r lhc crisis was past. fehe was saved. Bcauvallon laid fresh sticks upon the fire, and went out. IIis errand, however, took him only so far as the porter's lodge, Here he gave Picrrie Piton money and directions to do something very early on the following morning. Pierrie groaned, but at the same time wiped a troublesome piece of moisture from the corner of his eye, and as his mas ter left the lodge muttered : Millie Canons: what a man! and to say, after that, that those canaille of Saus Culottes denied a bon Dieu." lleturning to his apartments he drew a great chair to the fire, opposite the sofa where the 3'oung girl slept, and sat dream lly watching, now the sick girl and now the fire, till the gray light of morning began to steal in at the windows. The girl still slept, but with the break of day began to move, now and then, uneasily m her sleep. Beauvallon closed the blinds, drew the window curtains, and left the room noise lessly. A couple of hours after he re carrying a bundle of considerable size. ^ The windows unclosed, and the full light of morning let into the 4 , 0111 , he saw his patient watching him with great melancholy 03*03 the color of the ring she wore upon her finger. Approaching her in a quiet matter of fact way he said - "Does Mademoiselle feel strong enough to make her own toilet ?" . IIow came I here I' said the girl, as if halt enquiring of herself, halt ot him. I brought you. You found mo in the street-dy.ng r" 8 1 '' S Yes !" a °" ® rm * one * r* . * A . . „ During this conversation Beauvallon \ml undone the bundle, and spread «pou a chair all the articles of clothing, even to a pan- of delicate little pink slippers, of a lady s morning to. cite Come close to mo said the girl As he obeyed she disengaged one hand fro... the danket ... which sue was swathed tunk h,s . 1,1 »*■ Aft , er lookln .S steaill 'y mhm eyes for more than a minute, she raised Ins band quickly to lier bps and kissed it before lie could prevent-the ae l' f 1 i l Rn V e a ° 11 ^ l , °[. rc " lef like one who rolls a great weight from them, and said: t " I am strong enough." " When Mademoiselle is ready to ccive mo alia will touch tho hell," said Beauvallon simply as he left the room. Twenty minutes after the hell sounded, and on his return tho young girl was dressed in a plain but rich morning dress, her heavy masses of golden blonde hair arranged in smooth nnd lustrous hands at the temples, and turned up behind iu the heavy Grecian knot which was then the mode. The effort to dress had, however, exhausted her, for she was lying on the sofa pale and with half closed eyes. Yet as he entered the room, sho smiled faintly and uttered the single word : " Thanks." IV Avery simple word, hut there was in the manner of its utterance the expres sion of unbounded gratitude and confi dence. l'crrio followed almost immediately with a breakfast service on a largo salver, and bustled about. Beauvallon arranged a console table near her sofa, and with the peremptoriness of a physician compelled her to eat and drink. Breakfast over, he said, " Madcmois elle. " Call me Marguerite," said sho. " Mademoiselle Marguerite, I shall bo absent on business till evening. Pierre, on whom you may rely implicitly, will wait on you. That door opens into your chamber. Hush ! Conversation is forbid den you for many hours yet. When I am gone retire to your chamber and sleep. Sleep is tho sovereign cure. By night you will have recovered so much strength as to astonish yourself. Obey me for the present. When you arc well you may go where you please." . "Sir," said Marguerite, with an ex pression of profound hopelessness—"I am homeless." " Then," said Bcauvallon, gaily—"this is your home ; and you will please obey as a child does in its homo. You will dismiss thought and memory, till to-night, and do nothing but cat and sleep. Au revoir, Mademoiselle Marguerite." And he went out without giving her a chance to reply. Marguerite covered her face with her hands, nnd for many minutes tho tear drops, not scalding, hut gracious minis ters of relief to a brain only a few hours before the prey of dull despair and utter weariness of life, trickled through her fingers. Then she rose, and with a smile which lit up her wan face with an almost unearthly benuty, said—" Noblo and true! Noblo nnd true!" and went into the chamber he had pointed out to her. Beauvallon returned at evening, and as he had predicted, a day of entire rest well nigh restored the young girl. Noth ing but her extreme pallor nnd lassitude, which was itself an additional grace, mained to show how near she had gone to the portals of the tomb. This pair, strangely thrown together, supped with eacii other as brother and sister might do. Nothing Indeed would have indicated, to a stranger, that such was not their rela tionship, except the extreme earcfullness and watchful courtesy of Beauvallon* Neither asked any questions of the other, or gave any explanations. For all that appeared on the surface, they might have had re so beeu living that way for years. From that night on, week after week, the men - age was the same, and the intercourse bc tween the two young people conducted without a change in any respect, except that the " Monsieur" and " Madcinois elle" disappeared neither knew how, and "Marguerite" and "Henri" took their places. Beauvallon was absent all that day, but only occasionally in the evening. Mar guerite occupied his chamber, the thres hold of which he had never crossed after the evening he brought her in apparently dying. Henri slept on the lounge in the outer, or dining-room. Once Marguerite remonstrated at his permitting her to in commode him, and said now she was well, she had best go away and relieve him of annoyance. This was met with a calm smile, and a—"Mademoiselle, have you ceased to trust me?" So haughty, yet at the same time, so like a brother speaking to a froward younger sister, that it was never repeated. Marguerite was domina ted ; put under a spell by this man. One look in her face showed that she was a wo man of a proud spirit and a powerful will; but in the presence of Beauvallon she was only an obedient child. She had ceased to have a will of her own. In the most matter of fact vv a manner which permitted no rciuon stranee, lie supplied all her wants. lie brought her books and flowers; and trades people brought her clothes. In a little while the pale emaciated girl of the street had disappeared, and in her place was a strangely quiet, self possessed woman, with all tlie unmistakable evidences about her of high breeding, and the habit- of society. One day Beauvallon did not return with the evening. When he did, it was after midnight. Ho entered the outer room and closed the door behind him very softly. A y ht was still burning in itf h ' t Margue rite hnA into hor fe clwlllbor the door 0 f which was but half closed, As ]} eauva i lon cr088cd tho room to c]o8c it entirely, he heard the murmur of Mar gnerite's voice. She was praying, and his namo nii led with her '4. IIe 0( , and exti.iguisl.ed the light in the dining-room, and approached the donr (lf ] ler chamber. Her mVfciiiV, or night lamp, threw a feeble glimmer through room ', ,, ut , 10 cou l d % e e that, still dressed as be bad left her during the day, s , l( , was kneeling in prayer beside her bed. ,, , , B -is , But she was praying in anguish of soul. She was praying to bo protected against herself. Groaning, and wringing her hands, she murmured, "Oh, mon Dieu, mon Dieu ! Save me—save him—I love him—I love him—He is noble and true— hut I, oh, mon Dieu! I am a woman. He respects me. If I were a queen, or his sister, lie could nokserve me with a gout ier, purer reverent^: love him—1 cannot hear it ; some day I shall go mad. Oh, Holy Virgin, Mother of Sorrows, pity me—help mo ! When he speaks I must answer in monosylahles, or I should betray myself. When he looks at me I dare not meet his eye, for he would divine me. It cannot last. It is torture. .Someday I shall throw myself into his arms, and tell him my love. And then—then lie may spurn mo. After that, only that bridges and the swift waters of the Seine, as I saw it that night, when like a coward I dared not die, hut crawled away in the street to perish of cold and hunger. God help me! God help mol" Bcauvallon closed the door noiselessly, and went and lay down upou his sofa. A strange smile was oil his face as he dropp ed asleep. But it was sonic time before he slept, and lie was not at all an ordina ry mail. ay, and with | But I love him—I At breakfast the next morning Beauval lou said to Marguerite : "Put on your hat and shawl. I wish ysu to make a visit with me." She looked at him with surprise, for she had never left the hotel since the night he brought her to it. Then she thought : "He has found occupation forme. He is wearied of mo at lust. Even his benevo lence is tired out. I am nothing] to him but an object of charity, to whom he lias discharged a duty. Now he means to be rid of mo ; to put mo where I can earn my own living. And I love him ; I worship bin. He does not know it. Ho never shall know it. I can die; bqt I will not degrade myself. No, ho shall never know All this flashed througli heart and brain in a second, ns she rose, apparently calm and unmoved, and went into her room. Directly sho returned dressed for the street. Bcauvallon took up his hat, and they went out. Neither spoke a word. A short and silent walk brought them to the Mnyor's office. Beauvallon mo tioned to lier to enter. She hesitated for an instant, nnd a spasm of doubt nnd ter ror passed through her. Had all this care been but the cold calculation of some rev olutionary agent? Was this man whom sbe had loved, whom sho had fancied per fect, nothing but a brutal spy, who had maintained her so long only as butchers fatten beasts, to kill at last? It could not be. Had not ltopespievro fallen? Was not the reign of terror over ? And then his face was calm and noble as over. Whatever his motive it must be good. So she bowed and entered,. "Monsicr le Maire," said Beauvallon to the tri-oolored scarfed functionary, so soon as he appeared, "this lady and myself de sire to bo married." Marguerite grasped his arm and exclaim ed : "Married!" '■'Certainly, Mademoiselle." said Beau vallon. " l*o you object ?" it. A deadly paleness passed over her face, and for an instant she staggered like one who had been struck a heavy blow ; but by a powerful effort of will sho controlled herself, and answered distinctly, although in a whisper : "llenri Bcauvallon, to you who have saved body and soul, body and soul be long." sho made But it is of another confidence that we In a few moments the brief legal cere mony was performed, which made them man and wife; the official Register, signed by Beauvallon ond Marguerite Guyon, and the new married pair returned to Beauvallon's hotel. Here a new surprise awaited her, for a priest was in attendance, and priests were still a rarity in Paris, and the public offices of religion in abey ance, although physical danger to the per son of their ministers had ocased. The religious ceremony was performed, and tlie priest blessed the union already legal ly accomplished by the Maire. When the couple were left alone, we suppose Bcauvallon told Marguerite a lov er's story ; how sympathy for her distress had turned quickly to love for herself and all that lovers tell so well, and written words so poorly. We suppose si her confession, too, and that they both re peated these happy confidences daily, for they hud been married a whole week they were »till much given to each other's society. have to speak. Said Beauvallon ono evening, by that fireside, and on that soft where he had laid his human burden the night he brought her in out of the streets— "But Marguerite, you have never asked me anything about myself." "Naturally," said Marguerite making a pretty little mouth. "Naturally, M. De Bcauvallon ; since I know all about you." "You do, and you say Dc Beauvallon." "Yes Monseigneur." "Monseigneur. Marguerite! are you crazy ?" "Sane as a Bishop, Monseigneur de Beauvallon, or rather Monseigneur Henri Do Beauvallon De La Vallette, Duke De Moncontono." "Thus," said Henri, smiling, "You arc a Duchess." "No!" said Marguerite, gaily. "Not yet. We have no Dukes now ; but they will come hack one of these days. To-day wo have only soldiers, like yourself." "So I am a soldier as well as a Duke it seems. "Exactly! You are a General of Di vision." This timo Henri was really astonished, and exclaimed, "You are a witch !" "Nonsense," said Marguerite. "Young gentlemen who entertain ladies in their private apartments, who live daily with them, and know that woman has eyes, shouldn't stride across the floor with a full military step ; nor forgetfully clap their hand to their left side, as if to hitch a sa bre out of tho way ; nor put on their hats with a swing as if there were long plumes in them to he thrown hack out of the wav. "Umph! you're right. I'm a had actor. But that doesn't prove me a General. "But this does!" said Marguerite, going to the chimney nnd taking from the man tle shelf a letter which had been thrust un der one of the candlesticks. "To General of Division, Jlepn Beaq vallon !" "You arc right," said Henry. "Iam a careless rascal, and you are not a hit of a witch. Anybody would have found me out.' Marguerite pouted, a little piqued, and replied : "Of course I am stupid, that is possibly the reason why you have never asked me anything about myself." "No; I didu't ask because I didn't want to know." Marguerite's oheek flushed and she star toil I up— "Not want to know— said Henri, calmly nud approvingly—"heoause 1 know all about you already." A smile of incredulous superiority was the only reply to this boast. "Mademoiselle Marguerite de la Roche Guyon, Ci-devant Princess, may not be a witch—" "But her husband is a wizard," said she, stopping his mouth with a kiss. "Not a bit of it," said he, gaily— "Young ladies who, after being saved from the prisou of the Temple, and the Guillo tine by tho fall of Robespierre, starve themselves in a garret, and then go out and try to die in the streets rather than part with tho Montmorency Sapphire, a stone as well known as the Regent Dia mond, and who wear that jewel on their finger— Buch young ladies when picked up by Generals of Division in the service of the Republic must bo very simple if they think their history will not be found out by the Generals aforesaid without question ing themselves." "Besides which," said Marguerite— "Henri de Bauvaliou de La Valiette, and Marguerite do la Roche Guyon, were play mates when one was five and the other ten years old." "So," said Henry, "we are both impos "Certainly not, ten. "IIow?" "Because you knew me, and thought you were deceiving me ; I know you and thought I wss deceiving you—and after all wo were deceiving ourselves." "Except in this," said Marguerite, throwing her arms about his neck. "That citizen; and citizeness or Duke and Princess, as God please. He has giv en us more than kingdoms when he gavo US to each other.—JVcio York Courier Remarkable Masonic Incident, Tho first Masonic funeral that ever oc curred in California took place ia 1849, and was performed over the body of n brother found drowned iu the Bay of San Francis co. An account of the ceremonies states that on the body of the deceased was found a silver mark of a Mason, upon which was engraved the initials of his name. A lit tle further investigation revealed to the' beholder the most singular exhibition of Masonic emblems that was ever drawn by the ingenuity of man upon the human skin. There is nothing in the history or tradi tion equal to it. Beautifully dotted on hi* left arm, in red and blue ink, which timo oould not efface, appeared all the emblems of the entire apprenticeship. There was the Holy Bible, the square and compass, the twenty-four inch gauge and common gavel. There were also the Masonic pave ments representing the ground floor of King Solomon's Temple, the indented tea sel which surrounds it, and the blazing star in the centre. On his right arm, and artistically executed in the same indelible liquid, were the emblems pertaining to the fellow craft degree, viz : the square, tho level and the plumb. There were also tho five columns representing the five orders of architecture—the Tuscan, Doric, Ionic,. Corinthian, Composite. In removing the garments from his bo dy, the trowel presented itself, with all tho | Other tf 1 of operative masousry. Over his hea t - the pat ?f incense. .On the other parts of his body was the bee hive, the book of constitutions, guarded by the Tyler's sword : tho swerd pointing to a naked heart ; the All-seeing eye, the an chor and ark, the hcur-glass, the scythe, the forty-seventh problem of Euclid ; tho sun, moon, stars and comets; the three steps emblematical of youth, manhood and age. Admirably executed was the weep ing virgin, reclining on a broken column, upon which lay the hook of constitutions. In her left hand she held the pot of in cense, the Masonic emblem of a pure heart, and in her uplifted hand a sprig of Acacia the emblem of thp immortality of the soul. Immediately beneath her ntood winged Time, with his scythe by his side, which cuts, the brittle thread of life, and tho hour-glass at his feet, which is evor re minding us that our lives are withering The withered and attenuated away. fingers of the Destroyenvere placed amid the long and gracefully .'.owing ringlets of the disconsolate mourner. Thus were the striking emblems of mortality and. immortality beautifully blended iu one piotoriul representation. It was a spec tacle such as Masons never saw before, and, in all probability, such as the frater nity will never witness again. The broth er's name was never known. Last year a Polish gentlemau having caught a stork upon his estate near Lim burg, put around his i.eek an iron collar with this inscription. "Hobo ex Polonia," (this stork comes from Poland), and set it at liberty. This year tho bird returnee! to the same spot, and was again caught by the same person. He had acquired a new collar of gold, with this inscription, " In dia cuin donis remittit cicouiain l'olpnis," (India sends back tho stork tq (he Poles■ with gifts.) The new fabric plant of the South, Ra-r mie, has a fibre as long and as strong as flax ; it is as white and as finejas cotton, and as glossy as silk, while it needs less cultivation than cither, and bears three crops a year. It is not injured by insects, and it sells for double the price of cotton. , who is between seventv and Judge eighty, speaks pleasantly of the passing away of tho " old school gentlemen." Says he: " I was born at the wrong time. Wen I was a young map, young meq were of pq account—pow I aiq ojd I finit old men are of no account." Our homes arc like instruments of mu sic. The strings that give melody or dis cord are tl;e members. If eacii is rightly attuned, they will vibrate in harmony, but a single discordant string jars through the instrument and doatroys its sweetness. Prodlkm.—H ad I bought y goods : ten per cent, cheaper, I would at my seL ling price gain 17 per cent, more than I At what per cent, of profit am J. do. selling ? Scientific men say that the lime of the • diurnal revolution of t'nc earth is gradually being shortened, on account of the shrink-r age of the earth by cooling iu the interior. Why should tho sea make a better housekeeper than the earth ? Because tho earth is exceedingly dirty, and the sea is very tidy. Why is tho letter"«" of more value than crcnqj to a dairy maid?" Ans. — Because it makes " better" " butter." What is that which comes into existence' about five feet from tho ground, and is a sign of treachery and amity? A kiss. Why can a sea captain always havo fresh eggs at sea? Because whenever ho wishes them he can lay to. Why is a weathercock like a loafer?' Becauso he is constantly going round, do ing nothing. A man with an evil habit fixed in Liai soul is as badly off as a nut with a worm iu its kernel.