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Middletown transcript. [volume] (Middletown, Del.) 1868-current, August 07, 1869, Image 1

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MIDDLETOWN, NEW CxVSTLE COUNTY, DELAWARE, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 7, 1869.
NO.. 32.
YOL. 2.
ENOCH L. HARLAN,
»»1 MARKET STREET*
Formerly of the Finn of Harlan & Bro.
DEALER IN
FINE GROCERIES, PROVISIONS,
Foreign. Fruits,
DOMESTIC FRUITS,
GUNNING MATERIAL,
Fishing Tackle,
WOODEN WARE,
SALT, OILS,
Teas, &c.
W E are prepared to supply buyers from the
country with the above goods at the low
est prices.
Our stock onec tried will recommend itself, os
great care ha* been used in its selection.
We respectfully solicit an examination.
ENOCH L. HARLAN,
Formerly of the firm of Harlan A Dro.
Wilmington, Del.
-.n-Orders by mail promptly filled, and goods
delivered at any Depot, Steamboat or Express
Office freo of abarge.
May 22—3aios.
NEW STOVE, TIN,
AND
HOUSE-FURNISHING STORE.
Thomas ii. noriiwru.
Respectfully announces to the
Public that he has removed
his Store to his
NEW BUILDING-,
(forth Side of Molli Street,* Building» West
of Town Ilnil,
Middletown, Delaware.
Where be has constantly
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, &c. &e.
Constantly on hand and at the
Lowest Cash Pices.
Mr. R. E. Knighton, well known
skilful workman, is our
Foreman, and will give his
personal attention to
the business.
The following Cook Stoves are
sale and recommended to the
Public :
THF 1ST-A.TIOTST A.L»
( 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,
.
hand, and is
on
as a
Oil
THE GEAI,
THE DIAL,
ELM BASE,
COQUET BASE, and
THE BTMI/LIAJSTT.
Orders will bo received and promptly
.filled for any kind of Stove that may be
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
,tbeir cu tom.
Hoy 1—ly
W«. A. Raisin,
II. McCoy.
MoCOY & RAISIN,
General Commlsalon Merchants,
No. 23 SOUTH STREET,
Opposite Corn Exchange,
33 .A. I» TIMORE.
W I refer to the following among our patrons
in Kent oounty Maryland :
Judge Jos. A. Wickcs,
Hon. Wm. Welch,
William B. Wlinjer,
Jerris Spencer,
June 19— y
Hon. Samuel Comegys,
George D. S. Handy,
George T. Hollydav,
Samuel A. Beck.
Dr.
PEACHES ! !
/TV I ft! subscriber has made arrangements to buy
X PEACHES at the Middletown Station, dur
ing the season, and will furnish Baskets for stup
ing <jf same, thus Bavlng the Growers who have
no Baskets the expense of purchasing at present
high prices. Give him a call before disposing
yopr frtilt elsewhere. K. T. EVANS,
Agent for W. H. Wanser,
June:«— tf of New York.
of
as
do
so
I
joctliî.
From the Brooklyn Monthly.
OUT ON TIIE MOON-LIT LAKE.
Who docs not love, on a calm summer night,
To row o'er the lake 'ncath the moon's pale light
With a boat full oflaughing, fun-loving girls,
With rose-tinted cheeks and long flaxen curls,
And velvety lips of a curmiue hue,
Aud eyes that are bright as tho sun-lit dew?
As gayly onward
Scattering the sparkling spray from her sides,
With laugh and shout we the echoes awake
'Mong the hills that surround the beautiful lake;
And our hearts overflow with pleasure and mirth,
And our thoughts are weaned from the cares of
earth.
Who docs not love, while wc rest on our oars,
To watch the bright wavelets that play on the
shores.
And list to the softly murmuring breeze,
That gently rustles the leaves of the trees,
And lightly pluvs with the ribbons and hair
Uf the girls beside us with faces so fair?
Almost unheeded the moments pass by,
And the moon rides high in the starry sky ;
Still o'er the waters our boat swiftly glides,
Tossing the peurl-drops away from her sides;
And our song still keeps the echoes awake,
While gayly we row o er the moou-lit lake.
little boat glides,
popular Stales.
TnS VOICE THAT CHARMED.
A STUltY WELL TOLD.
Since his father's ucath Guy Britton,
with his old housekeeper, nJ'l lived alone
at the Elms. A naturally retiruig dispo
sition had combined with the eircumJtan
of his early training to make him avoid
society ; and although still young, he
seemed to tho villagers already middle
aged. A less healthful nature might have
preyed upon itself, growing morbid
auu morose with solitude, but Britton s |,
mind and hands were alike too busy to
droop for lack of exercise. Indoors he
bad his books for company ; outside there (
were his farm laborers to be directed, and .
a hundred plans of improvement to be ar
ranged and matured. Nature, whom be
loved, opened for him a page of wonderful
illuminations. His lands stretching along
a river valley unsurpassed in quiet beau
ty ; full of still places where, shut in by
the thick foliage of the wood from all in
harmonious sights and sounds, one might
sit, as it were between two heavens, tho
one reaching fur and blue above, and the
other mirrored in the smooth stream be
. es
low.
It was in tbeso years of scif-eontaitied
and netful rcstfulnoss—to use a seeming
paradox—that Britton gathered strength
for a very different after life. But it is
not of that after-life—striking its roots
deeply into the foundations of society, and
overarching so many burdened and sorrow
ful ones with its beneficent shadow—that
my short story lias to do.
Adjoining the Elms was the summer res
idence of the Gibsons, a family of little ed
ucation or native retirement, who, having
been suddenly made rich by speculation,
devoted their best efforts to the task of
maintaining an appearance becoming their
wealth. Season by season Britton dread
ed the opening of the house. The very
presence of his neighbors, with the train of
company, seemed to hurt the simplicity of
his own home. Mrs. Gibson, confusing
her servants with contradicting orders, or
scoldiug them for real or fancied remiss
ness, little suspected that the tone in which
site exercised her brief authority was itself
a proof of her unfitness for the circle to
which she aspired.
The familiar friendship of the master of
the Elms, was a good upon which her
heart was set, and she plied poor Guy ac
cordingly with her most transparent blan
dishments—he groaning in spirit mean
while, at her inability to see how utterly
they were wasted.
Going one day, to speak to Mr. Gibson
on some business, Guy, as he came uear
the house, heard a voice singing, lie
could not distinguish the words, hut the
melody seemed familiar. He thought he
must have heard it long ago, and us he lis
tened the perplexed memory shaped ilselt
into a vision of his mother rocking back
and forth in the summer twilight, and
singing him to sleep Uis eyesgrt w moist
with tlie rush of tender recollections, and
still the sweet, thrilling voice sang on.
Who could it lie? Impossible! Aud while
he wondered tho song ceased, and a face
appeared for a moment at the window.
He had just time to take it in at a glance
—the delicate, high-bred features, inform
ed throughout with a sad thoughtfulness;
the largo blue eyes half veiled by their
dark lashes ; the brown hair pushed back
in wavy masses; the clear skin, its fair
ness heightened by the effect of tho mour
ning dress below.
The girl who answered Guy's ring show
ed him in the parlor, where Air, "nd Mrs.
Gibson sat over their lunch
"My dear Mr. Britton, we're so glad to
seo you ! Just to think," with a reproach
ful smile, "that you haven't beep iu before
since wo came down ! Why, 'twas uo
more than yesterday that I was telling
Mr. Gibson that I didn't believe there was
a man living, with more of a literary taste
than Mr. Britton. It's a lovely trait of
character, indeed, I said. But then there's
a body's health to be thought of, and the
claims of society, you know, Mr. Britton."
Guy found it impossible to resist the
pressing invitation given him to lunch ;
and being soated an unwilling victim, with
plate and napkin on his knee, he was trea
ted to a running fire of conversation.
"I heard some one singing very finely
as I came in," said Guy, bringing in his
short sentence by a dextrous flank move
ment.
"Yes, answered Mrs. Gibson, delight
edly; "that was Miss Deane, the now gov
erness that I've got for the children. They
do say that her voice is remarkable, and
I'm glad to find you think so, Mr. Britton,
so good a judge as you are ; as I tell Mr.
Gibson, 'What a genteel taste Mr. Brit
ton has in everything!' My children all
have a taste for music—you ought to have
hoard Professor Grindcrwald compliment
Janetta's voice, Mr. Britton! Ami when
I think how necessary it is that they
should have the best of teachers that mon
ey could procure, I do feel that it's a
real Providence to liavo found Miss
Deane."
"Who is she Mrs. Gibson?"
"Oh she brought the very best of ref
erences, Mr. Britton. I mako it a point
never to take any one into my service"—
emphatically—"that don't bring the very
best of references. She came to me from
the Hartsteins —yon know the Hartsteins,
Mr. Britton— a minister her father was;
she's an orphan. Her only fault is that
she's inclined to be a little above her bus
iness, but I shan't be troubled with that.
As I tell Mr. Gibson, when I hire anybo
dy and pay them with my money, I just
give them to understand that they and
their time belongs to me."
s a hardness underlying the
smile on Mrs. Gibson's florid face as she
spoke, that made Guy shudder at its pos
sible connection with the delicate, refined
face at the window.
"Just walk into the music room, Mr.
Britton ; I would admire to have you hear
on
ly
Tliore Wi
..Intrude!" Mrs. Gibson raised her
eye-browa in surprise ; "of course she will
|, e pleased to do whatever I wish."
Laarft Deflne s(n0(1 nt tho pian0i p „ ti .
ent] following tho s)ow movements of lit
( , e ^ lora (jibson's weary fingers over the
.
*
I hope I shall not intrude upon Miss
Deane?" answered Guy, rising with so:: 1 «
hesitation.
"Miss Deane," said Mrs Gibson, imper
iously, and without deigning any other in- |
traduction
I want you to play and sing j
3t-y best pieces for my friend, j
I
Miss Deane's cheek flushed faintly as j
site returned Guy's bow, and sat down at j
the instrument. Sho struck a few chords j
and sang. "The Captive Knight." At j
first, like Tennyson's Lelia, she "struck '
such warbling fury through the words," j
that Guy saw the gleam of spear und ban- !
ner, heard tho peal of the trumpet, and j
the rush aud clamor of the host; then came |
the wild, impassioned longing of the cap
tive, and at last, the wail of despair over
his dead hope of liberty.
Guy had never before boon more pro
foundly stirred. The girl sang her very
soul into her words. Such expression
could not bo mere art, lie thought—it
must bo an outgrowth of her own experi
ence.
one of yout
Mr. Britton."
;
"You have given mo a wonderful plea
sure, Aliss Deane," he said, in a low tone,
as she finished; and Airs. Gibson in the
full tide of voluble discourse, led the way
from the room.
Sitting alone that evening in his pleas
ant library, Guy was conscious of a vague
souse of loneliness quite at variance with
the soft light and warm coloring of the
room. Aliss Deane's face seemed to min
gle itself indefinably with his unrest; and
the words and melody he had hoard, sang
themselves over and over in bis memory.
He rose and went out of doors, and look
ing over the hedge, saw her slender figure
pacing slowly to and fro in the moonlight.
She niovi'71 wearily, he fancied, and he
thrilled with a longing to speak to her and
comfort her. Some great sorrow had set
its seal upon her face, he thought,
not Airs. Gibson called her an orphan?
What a sad fate to be thrust out homeless
into the great world—a nature so fine as
Iters must be subject to tho coarseness and
caprice of an employer like Airs. Gibsou.
The very idea was revolting. Then there
Heated in a vision a face like hers, op
posite him at solitary ineuls, or beside his
study fire in the long whiter evenings—a
face f
he gone, and iu their pluce the brightness
of new hope and trusting love. But while
he dreamed, an unconscious smile soften
ing his features, the figure disappeared in
the shallow of the tall mansion ; and the
voice of his house-keener at his elbow,
broke the unwonted spell,
The noxt day he saw Aliss Deane walk
ing in tho garden with tho young Gibsons.
He hoped sho might come near enough
for him to speak to her ; but sho did not
seem to see him, busy with his pruning
8cissors at the hedge. He could only look
on from a distance, noting her graceful,
quiet mien, and her gontje patieupe with
the wayward children. Yet he found that
as time passed, even such transient glimp
ses bad wonderful power to brighten his
days. Occasionally there was a bow of
recognition, a word or two of courteous
common-place—onoe a longer conversa
tion, which charmed Guy by a revelation
of a mind richly stored—no more than that
until ono evening, strolling down by the
water's edge, he suddenly came upon Aliss
Deape, sitting with her portfolio on her
lap, making a little sketch of the river and
the o
Had
which all traces of sadness should
ite bank.
"Pray don't rise, Aliss Deane. You
sketch, I see."
•'Only a little. I am-quite untaught."
She held out tho unfinished peneiliug as
she spoke. Guy looked at it iu tho light ;
"You liavo a native aptitudo in that direc
tion, then," he said; "but if you will per
mit me a suggestion, I think I can show
you a belter position than this. Hero,
that group of trees hides from you one of
the very finest points of the landscape, but
just inside my gate is a rustic seat, from
which the whole view opens up most char
mingly. Will you come ?"
Miss Deane accepted the invitation with
unaffected pleasure, but scarcely was her
paper adjusted again, under Guy's super
intendence, before Mrs. Gibson appeared
on the river path in front of them. Guy
saw the look of surprised displeasure dar
ken over the lady's face, and walked quick
ly to the gate, hoping to avert the rising
storm.
"Walk in, Mrs. Gibson," ho said with
his most winning smile, "you have not
seen the view which I have had opened
through these pines. I have just persua
ded Miss Deane to bring in her paper and
pencil and make a sketch."
"Thank you, Mr. Britton, I haven't
time just now." She looked at her watch,
shutting the case with a spiteful snap.
"Miss Deane, do you know that it is very
near school time?"
"I will go in directly,"
answer,
hour."
was tho quiet
"I must have mistaken the
As the two walked away together, Mrs.
Gibson said, in a tone which, though not
intended for bis ears, Guy could not avoid
over-hearing, "Miss Deane, I never was
more astonished in my life ! Such bold
ness as this front a person in my employ!
Going alone into a gentleman's grounds
like that ! Making a sketch, indeed !"
The reply was inaudible. Guy flushed
to his very finger-tips with anger, hut re
flecting that Miss Deane's mortification
would doubtless bn increased by the know
ledge that he had heard the cruel words,
he pressed back the indignant sentences
t!„;t roso to hi" Una.
From this moment his
ken. "Sho shall not long be subject to
that woman's petty tyranny—not if T can
win her for myself," he said, closing his
lips tightly as he walked up the garden
path.
olutlotl was ta
"Early on the following day he saw the
Gibsons drive away with a party of guests,
followed by a light wagon packed with all
the equipments of
Deane was uot of the number; indeed, he
had noticed that she very rarely shared
any of their frequent pleasure excursions,
"Sho is alone. 1 will speak to her this
very day," ho thought,
As he passed up the avenue that after
noon, lie started to hear her voice again
as on the first day when he had met her.
lie stood still a moment and tho words
came floating to his ear on the wings of a
melody sadder Ilian anything he had ever
hoard:
rustic picnic. ' Miss
'•Date, lato, so lato! and dark the uight and chill.
Late, late, so late ! but we can enter still !
Too late ! too late ! ye cannot enter now !"
Following with his eyes the direction of
the sound, he saw her sitting on the grass,
half hidden by a trellis which supported a
clambering vine. The last note died away
in a tremulous sob and burying her face
in her hands she burst into a spasm of
weeping.
Guy stood irresolute, fearing to startle
her by his sudden approach, but as a dry
twig broke beneath his foot sho turned
quickly and recognized him. She rose
hastily, dashing away her tears, and her
face glowing with painful embarrassment.
G uy was at her side in an instant.
"I beg ten thousand pardons," he said
hurriedly, "indeed I did not mean to come
upon you so suddenly !"
"The family are absent for the day Mr.
Britton."
"I know it—I don't wish to see them.
Miss Deane, they are miserably unkind to
you here!" said Guy impulsively.
"No, no, it is not that! they do not
mean it," she answered, striving to regaiu
composure ; "it is because I am so utterly
alone—alone ! Believe we, I am uot of
ten so weak as this!"
"Oh, Miss Deane! if you would only
take a place in my heart nud home !
me that you will give me the right to guard
aud comfort you ! Be my wife !"
Her face lit up for a brief moment with
strange radiance, then the light passed aud
left her calm aud pale.
"Mr. Britton," she said, "I noed not
tell you how totally unprepared I am for
this. You do me u great houor—I thank
you, but this cannot be. You are not the
man to be coûtent in a ntarriago that had
its origin iu a mere sympathy, however no
ble ; and forgive me that I say it, lonely
and poor as I am, I should want more than
that in my husband,"
Guy would have interrupted her with
passionate protestations, but she silenced
him with quiet firmness.
" I am almost a stranger to you," were
her parti ug words; 1 ' sometime you will
thank me for what may seem now like
rauk ingratitude." Sho held out her
hand with a sorrowful smile. Guy pressed
it to his lips.
" Miss Deane," he said, " I don't won
der that my wretched abruptness has
ruined tny cause. Forgive it—and mo.
to-morrow, on urgent
bo at home in a fort
night, then I shall ask you to auswer me
again,"
The end of the fortnight brought Guy
Britton back ; but Lura Deane bad been
gone a week.
" I don't know where sho wont," said
Mrs. Gibson, with something like a sneer,
in answer to his anxious inquiry,
not trouble myself to ask, and no refer
ences did she get from me cither ! The
ungrateful piece ! Wasn't her qtiarter
finished, did you say ? What if it was ?
She knew I depended on her. After all my
Tell
I am going away
business. I shall
I did
kindness, too ! It's always tho way with
such people; as I tell Mr. Gibson."
One Sabbath evening, two years later,
Guy Britton walked up the aisle of a fash
ionable city church, and taking the seat
which the usher gave him, leaned back
against the cushion with half-closed eyes,
listening to the soft, sweet prelude of tho
organist. Suddenly a single voice rose
up strong and clear. Her voice ! it must
be hers ! The wide world could not hold
such another! Still soared the strain,
above tho fretted arches and the vaulted
roof, aspiring, adorning—like the lurk
alone with the morning, or the eagle bath
ing his fearless head in tho very sunlight
of heaven !
Lura Deane, coming down tho stairway
of tho orchestra, at close of service, saw
Guy Britton waiting at its foot. There
was no demonstrative greeting ; to the by
standers they might have parted but the
day before.
" Do you walk home ?" he whispered.
"Yes."
"Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore,"
said Miss Deane aloud, " you need not
mind to go my way to-night—I have found
a friend here."
She took his proffered arm, and they
passed out into the lighted street.
" My weeks have been years," said Guy,
" I have come for my answer."
She flashed one eager, questioning
glance upon him, and as the lamplight
shone full upon her face, ho saw it trans
figured by a look that nothing but death
would ever take away—a look of perfect
love and trust and rest, tho home-coming
of an exiled soul.
In a brief month after, Laura Deane be
came tho mistress of tho Kims, and her
charming voice waked the echoes in the
grand old mansion, and found a response
in the loving, trusting heart of Guy.
Champagne. — Making champagne is
now a regular business in California. It
is done, according to 4 correspondent who
has seen the process, as follows: The crude
wine is run into a tank which holds 3,000
bottles, and then sweetened with 82 pounds
of sugar. The succeeding processes are
nice and complicated, and some of them I
believe aro kept secret from tho public.
The solution of tho great problem of child
hood—how champagne corks get in when
they are so much larger at the bottom than
at the top—appears in an ingenious ma
chine, which compresses them one-half and
then drives them in in a twinkling,
newly-filled bottles aro laid in frames, with
tho necks sloping downward. Here they
remain for some weeks, but are shaken by
hand every day. The pressure on a bot
tle is 00 pounds to the square inch, or
equal to that of six atmospheres. About
one in ten bursts. The men who shake
them wear masks of wire to protect their
faces. The superintendent has a long scar
on his right hand, where he was once cut
by tho glass of an exploding bottle. After
the wine has worked itself clear, tho cork
is removed for an instant to let tho sedi
ment fly out ; then it is replaced, the bot
tle is labeled, wrapped, and cased by Chi
namen, and it is ready for the market.
A Slirlnc In Xluins.
A pilgrim to Stratford-on-Avon says that
tho home of Shakespeare was near what is
known as tho Chapel Church. The grounds
remain, but all vestiges of the dwelling have
been removed. The site of the famous mul
berry tree is pointed out, and also tho well
at which Shakspeare drank, and that is all.
The mulberry tree was planted in the
early marriage lifo of tho poet, with his
own hand. It grew to be a famous tree.
Under it was tho poet's favorite seat.
Under it Ben Johnson, Garrick, Dray
ton, Macklin and other merry wits of
the ago often met, and took counsel. In
the house the poet, within one mouth af
ter he made his strange will—in which he
bequeathed to his wife his "second-best
bed"—died—died it is said, of a fever
contracted by a carouse with Ben Johnson
and Drayton. "He drank too hard," said
his biographer, "and contracted a fever."
His dwelling house went into the hands of
the rector of the church, whoso uaino was
Gastrill, l'eople called to see the mulber
ry tree. The Keverend Hector Was incom
moded. lie cut tho tree down and sold it
for firewood. The enraged people made
tho place too hot for him. They broke
his windows, and finally drove him from
town. He took ample revenge, not only
on the people of Stratford, but on the world
at large. He had the house removed by
piecemeal—left not a vestige behind, and
sold it for fuel.
The
?
A Be.uitifei, Sentiment.— Dr Chal
mers beautifully says : The little that 11
have seen in the world and know of the
history of mankiud teaches mo to look
upon their errors in sorrow, not in anger.
When I take the history of ono poor heart
that has sinned and suffered, and repre
sent to myself the struggles and tempta
tions it passed through—tho brief pulsa
tions of joy; the tears of regret; the fee
bleness of purpose ; the scorn of the world
that has little charity ; the desolation of
the soul's sanctuary, and threatening voi
ces within ; health gone ; happiness gone—
"I would fain leave tho erring soul of my
fellowman with Him from whoso hands it
came."
A young Welohman, jilted by tho girl
of his choice, has sent in to her a bill for
damages, in which, perhaps, the most
cruel item is, "To 12 days lost in your
campauy, j£ 4. Cs. ßd."
The more ohecks a spendthrift receives,
the faster he goes.
a
a
ut
a
"
a
a
jjodry.
A GIRL'S A GIRL FOR A'THAT.
Is there a lady in the land
That boasts her rank and a' that?
With scornful eye we pass her by,
And little care for a' that ;
For nature's charm shall bear the palm—
A girl's a girl for a* that.
What though her neck with gems she deck,
With folly's gear and a' t-.- '
And gayly ride in pomp aud pride;
We can dispense with a' that.
An honest heart acts no such part—
A girl's a girl for u' that.
The nobly born may proudly scora
A lowly lass and u' that ;
A pretty face has far more graco
Than haughty looks and a' that ;
A bonnic maid needs no such aid—
A girl's a girl for a' that.
Then let us trust that come what must,
And sure it will for a' that,
When faith and love, all arts above,
Shall reign supreme and a' that,
And every youth confess the truth,—
A girl's à girl for a' that.
For the Middletown Transcript
The Autobiography of a Kid Glo'
My first recollections were those of
Sliding myself lying in a box with tunny
othsrs of my kind ill a large store on
Chestnut street, Philadelphia. Did I say
my " first," recollections ? Havel then
forgotten those happy, golden hours, when
in my natural state as the coveting of the
-1 wandered about on the mountains
aud plains with no object in view but to
enjoy life generally. Ah me ! gladly
would I again endure tho tortures which
have been inflicted ou me could I but live
over those hours of my life. However I
should not complain, for my present situa
tion is as comfortable as any reasonable
glove can expect. To what tortures I al
luded—my readers already know, that is
if they are (as I shall suppose) acquainted
with the manner in which kid gloves are
manufactured. It is enough to say that I
was conveyed by a " specimen of human
ity" from tny native place to a dull, dark
building, which I have since learned to
have been a manufactory, where I under
went the process of being tanned, the hor
rible reality of which some can imagine
who have not experienced it. Then I was
dyed, during which I came near losing my
life, however, I lived, through it all or I
should not be writing this. I cannot en
ter into the details of my suffering for at
times I was unooneious of them, even
now I shudder when my thoughts recur to
that painful period of my life, although
my present beauty nearly compensates for
all that 1 have endured. I do «ut say
this in a spirit of vanity, hut from a wish
to present myself before my readers ex
actly as I am, which is the usual style of
autobiographers i believe. Understand
me then, that when I said " first recollec
tions" I dated my lifo from the time when
this change from an uncivilized to a civi
lized state came over mo. But to return
to my story. As far as my powers of ob
servation would permit me ( for you must
know said powers are very limited to a
person who is obliged to lie on his back
forever as I then thought my doom to be)
I concluded that the establishment in
which I was placed was one of considera
ble size, and from the constant hum of
voices around me, one of considerable
popularity. In neither of those supposi
tions was I incorrect, and my readers will
agree with me when I toll lh
was Evans & Co. Chestnut St. I was
lying in the box one morning listening to
the busy world outside, aud ut the same
time wondering if 1 hud not a mission to
perform in it, and if so what it was, when
1 heard a voice near mo enquiring—"Have
you auy fawn-colored gloves, No, 6 ? Ob
bow my heart beat ! for I was tho love
liest shade of the number and color speci
fied. Various boxes were referred to
without success, aud I was on the point of
exclaiming, " Ob here I am ! the very one
you want," when I remembered that
" merit is ever widest known" and at tho
same time felt the box in which I lay lif
ted from the shelf and placed upon the
counter, and in a few minutes my com
panion aud myself (for, dear readers, I
had a friend in all respects like myself,
from whom I had never been separated
since my troubles) wero held up to the
admiring gaze of tho customer, who im
mediately exclaimed—" What a love of a
pair! I willjtakc them," and forthwith wc
transferred from the hands of the
j
-in that it
wero
sales-woman to a prison-like place in the
lady's dress, by namo a pocket, not even
allowing us time to glance around the
store which for one long week bad been
our home. Wo wero obliged to endure
this state of things for about two hours, at
the end of which time we were placed
toilet table with a number of other
11
upon a
small articles and left to ourselves, while ]
tho lady answered the summons of the i
servant to dinner. We now set ourselves j
to work to find out if possible the char
acter of our future home. In her haste
the lady had thrown us ngaiust a cologne
bottle, and it by supporting us afforded a
better view of the room which by its ap
pointinents testified to the presence of
wealth and refinement. In a short time
the lady returned, and taking from a pearl
inlaid writing desk uear us, pen and ink,
took us from the table and having written
inside of us—"Mrs. Emily Broomer, No
1431 Walnut St." laid us away in a
highly perfumed draw. For a few days
were left to the peaceful retiremeut of
our abode, and then one bright sunshiny
morning Airs. Broomer opened the drawer,
took us from it, and after a little pulling
( during which I was every moment in
danger of splitting) wc at length encased
w I ■
A few rods from the
her snowy hands,
street door Mrs. B. was joined by a lady
who seemed to be a particular, friend if
one might judge from their conversation;,
portion of whioh I will relate—"Good
morning Emily," said the lady, "I
just wishing for your judgement in tbo
important matter of purchasing a silk,
dress, will you come with me to ehooso
it?" "Certainly" replied Mrs. B "E
will go with pleasure." They walked ou
a few steps when the lady said—" Hava
you heard anything of Hknine, or from
France lately?" " No indeed" replied the
other in a sad tone, " poor Hanine," I
very much fear that she has been left to
the mercy of strangers in this, a strange
country. According to a letter which I
received from my Uncle, sho was married
ut Lyons on tliu 13th of January 1859,
three weeks after my parent's death, and
week before the date of his letter,.and
started for America the same month,
therefore, as this is "six" she must havo
arrived long since,
find her," and my companion and myself"
wero joined together in despair.
At length the store was reached and a
quantity of silks spread before the ladies.
In order to ascertain the quality of the
material it was evident that Mrs. Broomcr
would be obliged to draw off either my
companion or myself, which was at length
determined to be your humble servant.
After much consultation the dress was de
cided upon and the two friends left the
store, but woe is me ! as they were pas
sing along the street I, whom Mrs. B.
bad continued to bold in her hand, was
dropped upon the pavement of a bakery.
All my efforts to scream and make my
owner acquainted with her loss and my
misfortune were unavailing, consequently
I-was obliged to lie there; expeoting
every moment to be trodden upon and.
spoiled.
It was toward nightfall, when I heard
a weak childish voice near me exclaim—
" Oh I am so hungry, 1 want a piece of,
bread so badly," and at the same time
she stood gazing wistfully into tho bakery
window. She was a small child and in.
spite of her old and faded garments a very
beautiful one. As she was turning from
the window her eyes fell upon. me. Ta
king me up and turning me round in her
little hand, she said thoughtfully—"What
a pretty glove ; L wonder who lost it,
Oh, hero is some writing inside, I will
ask mama, to read it," aud clasping me
tightly in her hand, she ran. swiftly dowan
a poor but respectable street, and bursting
unceremoniously into a room on the first
floor of one of. the dilapidated lieuses ex
claimed—" See here mama, wliut I have
found ; tell me what the name is inside,
and maybe if 1 take it back the lady willi
give us some bread."
The room was almost destitute of fur
niture, but in the twilight could be seen a
couch in one corner of the room, on whioh
lay a young woman, apparently dying with,
Like her child she was cx
wan
one
" Ob, if I could but
consumption,
ccodingly beautiful aud notwithstanding
the bareness of the room, there was a re-,
finciueut about its occupant which would
convince the beholder that she had seen,
better days. Taking me from the child,
she looked carelessly at me, but as tho
name caught her eye a deep Hush spreart
over her thin face, succeeded by a deadly
paleness as slie said falteringlv—
did you get it Emily ?" " I found it on,
the street mama," answered the child.
The mother struggled for composure cro
she said " my child this must he your
aunt, whom we Lave been seeking for so.
long. Do you think you could fiud 1431
Walnut St. ? Oh bow I longed to tell hen
that it was indeed her sister, however I
could only hold tny peace and await the
result of this my mission, which I had at
last, found.
It would bo impossible for me to de
scribe the joyful meeting between tho
sisters, which I, a kid glove, bad been
the instrument of bringing about. 1 will
only say that little Emily with the assis
tance of one of the neighbors who offered
to accompany her, found Iter Aunt's res
idence, made herself known to her, and
before the evening of tho next day both
Mrs. DeVillars and her little daughter
were safely housed beneath the hospitable
roof of Airs. Broomer.
" But what has become of the poor old
glove ?" I think I hear tny readers ex
claim. 1 will tell you. From that day
I was cared for by my little mistress,
Emily, as if 1 had been a human being,
and when in after years Airs. DeVillars
came into the possession of a fortune be
queathed her by her Uuclo, I occupied
and still occupy a glass case in tny little
mistress' room, and am regarded as tho
instrument which brought about their
change of fortunes from the depths of pov*
erty to a life of ease and luxury.
" Where
One of our eminent citizens " had oom
pany" a few evenings since, when the eu
phony of different languages, particularly
the German, was discussed, A little ten
year old boy " put in his oar" thus;
' " Ala, I can talk Dutch."
"You talk Dutoh, Georgio, Let me
hear you."
The household hopeful promtly gave a
taste of his lingual quality as follows :
' 1 Who'sc pin heresince I'se pin gone!
m
"There is no truth iu men," said a lady,
in company. "They are like musioal in
struments which sound a variety of tunes.
"In other words, ntadatn," saH — 11 "
lady, "you believe thamAV-inon are lyres."
Sweetening one's coffee is generally tho
first stirring-event of the day.
cr

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