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H. C. SHEARER, Publisher, CORfflEB MABEET AND FOTJETH. INVARIABLY IN ALVAECE, "1 ' . vj S O ' W W ,, J. - Z. RAGAN, Editor and Proprietor. From Arthur's Home Magnzine. RAIN IN THE AFTERNOON. TEE BY VIRGINIA F. TPWNSEND. On the many joys of life ho gnzed still, with the eyes of childhood. Hyflriu.v. ' 'Rowena ! Rowena !' " 'Well, uncle Harry ?' The voice, soft and clear, wandered through the lung hull, and down the broad staircase, to the gentleman who Mood at its foot. It's goinglo rain, and the air's very damp. You mustn't ride out this after noon.' Now mind what I say, child.' And a moment after, the swinging back of the street door seat a sullen echo thro' the building. 'Now, if that isn't too bad,' ejaculated Rowena Strong, as she pettishly tossed down on the table the new fall hat, which for the last half hour had engrossed her attention, and walked to the window. Just look altera moment, as she stands there, with the crimson curtains throw ing a rich arts-glow over the fuee she has drawn close to the window pane. It is not a handsome face no heightening :olors no harmony of surroundings can make it this; but it is piquant and inter esting, and, I am half inclined to think, the pout that curves the full red lips is rallur becoming than otherwise. 'Rowena Strong is an orphan, and her rich uncle's pet and heiress. Her mem ory can look over some half score of years, to the time when she lived in a lit tle brown house in the country, with her widowed mother. Mrs. Strong hud married in opposition to the will of the family, and for many years there Was but little intercourse be- ' tween ihem. When her husband died, and lift her in poor health, with scarcely any means of support, the widow was too proud to appeal to her relatives for the aid she needed. Two years went by, and Mrs. Strong lay on her dying bed ; and, when she looked on Rowena, the woman's pride yielded to the mother's heart. She wrote to her brother. A few weeks before, he had lain his voting wife under the summer grass ; and it was with a softened heart that he hastened to the leath bed of his sister. From her dying hands he received Rowena, and pledged himself to be in deed and in truth a fath er to her. He had fulfilled his promise well. Ro wena had become the idol of the rich merchant, and her life flowed up to its twentieth year, a bright, picturesque, peaceful river. Rowena was by no means a novel writer's incarnation of all impossible sweetness and goodness. She had her faults, and her j etted, luxurious life was not calculated to evolve the noble charac teristics of her nature. , But underneath all the accidental or in digenous faults of her nature, lay a warm true heart, and a substratum of good com mon sense. Rowena stood a few nm ments, dubiously searching the clouds with her blue eyes, and then the large drops began to palter on the roots., . 'Well, there's no use fretting about it,' she said, drawing the curtains together with a sigh. .'It's going to now ; that's plain enough to be seen, and I must make the best of it. . How provoking, though, when I wanted to wear out my beauty of a new hat so badlv i Not a soul wil come here this afternoon, either, and it'll be as dull as States-prison all the after noon. I must get hold of something to read, or I shall certainly die of ennui be fore uncle Harry gets back.' And she went to the table and whirled over tho un cut leaves of several magazines that lay thereon. As she listlessly glanced among the pages, her eye lighted on a French sentence, and she paused to translate the Jailer ponton of it: t quit soil iht que lai rendu un homme neurcux en ma vie.' I wonder if that can be said of me, murmured the young ladvi'as she laic' lown the book : and, folding her hands behind her, she walked thoughtfully up and down the room. :'i,et s see ; here 1 am twenty years old, and yet I can't think I've ever made one being really happy in all my life. It makes me feel, bad to say it, for I don' believe I'm any more selfish than, other people. 1 ve given a good deal lo beg ears.' now and then; and there's that poor family that lived round the alley Didn't I clothe up all the children in nice warn, shilling de lains T They looked just as dirty in two weeks, though, us if I hadn't touched them. And that threw cold water on all my benevolent projects It wain triL'ht to be discouraged so easily I 'spose ; but now I should really like to, feel -as ifsl'd ' pei formed one really good act something that would require self-denial and ' exertion on my pari and--' Just' ihen there was a knock at the chamber door, and a domestic put .her head inside, t Here's a letter as has just 31 SiUtchlu ImtnmL Sriiflicft ta American !41crtsfs; ICifcn come for ye, Miss Rnny !' The young lady caught it eagerly, and, with a little scream of delight recognized the hand- riting. It was that of her old schoolmate, Julia Gilman, between whom and Rowena had always extsted a warm intimacy. They had known each other when the former lived with her widowed mother, in the little brown cottage in the country, and the child-afl'eclion -had strengthened with their years. Julia was the daught er of the village doctor, aud of course icr social position was then superior to lowcna's; but this had in nowise influ enced her choice of her friend, and when the brown cottage was exchanged for the uxurious city home, Julia's disinteresl- dncss was fully repaid. Every year, the people who lived op posite, saw the sweet lace ol the doctor s daughter beaming out of Rowena's cham ber window?, and when the wind carried their voices across the street, it seemed like a sudden outbreak of music. Rowena broke the seal, unmindful of is flowery device, and read eageily the elter; but the latter part especially at tracted her attention, and thus it ran; 'You remember, darling Rowena, our old school-mate, Matlie English. Can you nol see her now, with her brouse brown curls, and her eyes wearing just the color of chesnuts, when, in frosty autumn nights they break out of the burs? Well, I-huve u sad atory to tell yon of Matlie. After her father died, the property was found very much involved, and it is known that for several years past, Mrs. English and her daughter have lived mostly on mortgages of their home, which you are aware was the lormer s dowry. Lasi month she was taken severely ill ; in deed, her recovery is quite problematical, papa says. - The mortgages on the old place are quite exhausted, and they have now no means of subsistence. I believe it would kill poor Mrs. English outright to leave her old homo, though how they can long stay there is a mystery to me. And now I have a secret lo confide lo you, machere ! Mattie's beauty has more than fulfilled the rare promise of her childhood, and her face is a picture; a sweet, but rather sad one, with its clear, Grecian contour, As lips like June rose buds filled with meadow dew; and her hair and eyes of brown brouse and ha zel brown. Well, 'Squire Allen you remember him lias taken a fancy to her ! Did you ever hear anything so absurd I There are only fifty years difference in their ages ! 1 wo weeks ago, the giay-lmireu gentleman proposed lo Maltie, as he did forty-live years ago to her grandmother. You know he is immensely wealthy, and would surround Mrs. English and her daughter with oil the luxuries which their previous lives render necessary. I don't know but for her mother's sake Matlie English will marry old 'Squire Allen ; but I do know she had rather die than do this. Poor girl! My heartaches whenever I look into her pale, sad face. But dear me, Rowena, I've gotten to the bottom of my fourth page, and not commenced telling you all I have to say, so" Bui, reader, we charitably infer you arc familiar with the conclusions of school girl letters. Suffice it, this one did nol lack the usual saccharine elements. Ro- I wena read over the last page iwice. Then she resumed her walk. 'How I wish I could help her dear little, Matlie English. How clearly her sweet child-face seems looking down on me now; and I can almost feel my fingers winding through her rich curls ! To think of her marrying that gray-haired, bent- over, wrinkle-faced, 'Squire Allen giv ing her sweet youth to his age. It makes mo shudder. If I could enly prevent it in some -way even a few hundred dollars might do some good for a little while. Uncle Harry would give me this lor my self, but come to asking it for other peo pie' and Rowena shook"ller head doubt fully. " ;; "' ' "j '; ' I haven't but fifty dollars by me; stop yes 1 have ! There s that five hun- died Uncle Harry gave me to buy a dia , uond set. If I should tell him I'd con . : , .... : TrrHrt5: STEUBENVILLE, c luded to wear the old pearls, and keep the money for another purpose, he'd only pinch my ear, and say 'I was a changea ble little minx,' and I could easily inclose the bills and send them to Matlie,' and neither she nor any body else would be the wiser. But I want that diamond set terribly, lo wear to Mrs. Chapman's bridal party next week. How charming it would look with the blue brocade uncle Harry promised me ! But then there's poor Matlie English. How could I be so selfish as to think of diamonds, when her life's happiness is at stake ? And here, too, is the opportunity I was long ing for, of doing good, before Julia's letter came. God has sent it nie, I know He has, and I'll not wait another moment.' Rowena Strong turned hastily to her writing desk ; and there was a light in her blue eyes, a brightness rising over her whole face which no diamond could have given it. She stood at the window, looking out sadly on the sun, that was going so early behind the bare hill lops. It had been one of those November days that hang their gray, gloomy bordering on the white skirls of winter, and now the wind was beginning to take up the funeral song of the year. With a low, shuddering cry, the mourner came down from the mountains and wandered through the short, dry grass of iho meadows, and up through the forests. The gray clouds thickened overhead. No wonder the face thai looked out at the window grew sad. I wish I could describe it, with its clcaily cut profile, its large, long-lashed, mellow eyes, its full, drooping lips, and the rich curls that hung all about it. Ah, me ! this is a faint suggestion of .its beau The house, a large, old-fashioned, but very respectable wooden building, stood in some distance from the road, but the whole had a bare, deserted kind of look, which the season alone should not have given it. 'He will he here to night,' murmured Mattie English, still looking off at the clouds. 'And I must decide my fate. God help mt ! I would rather go down into some kitchen, and toil thpre the ycri est drudge, all the days of my life, than marry that rich, old miser. But my poor mother ; she will starve, or he dependent on charity, if I do not do litis. I know the neighbors (Dr. Gilman, especially,) have secretly helped us for months, and we haven't money in tho house to buy another meal. Dear, dear mother! When I think of her failing health, her former life of ease and luxury, I know I ought lo sacrifice myself for her. It would kil me to see her suffer ; and 'she fnnnn bio povcuy with the strong heart and voting health that I have. But to think of that old mnn's being my husband! How it makes me shudder,' Our home should be the proudest in all Meadow Brook,' he said 'and silks and jewels should add new lustre to ray beauty. 'And with these I shall be bought and sold.' There was a scornful working ol the pale, proud face, but iho next moment it softened, for another memory had come up lo her heart. 'Oh ! what wil) Paul say, when he re turns and hears of il !' And now she has lain her forehead against the window and the tears are struggling up to the long-lashed eyes. 'He never told me loved me, with his lips, but his eyes have a thousand times, ' I know, too, il was because his uncle wanted him to marry that Boston heiress, that he went on this long journey. Poor fellow 1 Ho did not like to offend his rich old uncle by refusing him ; and then Paul is poor, and had no homo to offer me. But he meant to, before he returned, and then oh how happy we might have been Great sobs were shaking the poor girl'i frame ! now, for a Jew years up the fu lure, she saw a little while cottage, wit green vines over-wrapping it, and the great stone house of the millionaire, with its Gothic front, and Grecian statues seemed like a prison as it loomed up bo fore her. . ;.! T OHIO, jJSOTPEjfe At that moment '-a' quick, emphatic call&asr winter Paul SiAbfus' came Tlomp f the old housc-knorker roused Mattie, nd with an exclamation, 'It will waken mamma, sue nuiricu to tne uoor, care- ess of her tear-stained face. 'Here's a letter, for you ma'am,' said the post-boy, as he held it up, eyeing the wet cheeks, curiously. It was mailed from New 'York, and Mattie could not rccognise'the delicate but disguised chirograpby of the address. She hurried back to the half-darkened sitting room, and opened her letter by the ightofthe window;.- Several bills fell at her feet. 1 here were only these words on a sheet of note paper : Use these, and do not marry old Allen.'1 Half , believing it was all a dream, she gathered up the bills. There wera five iiindred dollars. , Slowly, slowly rose the conviction of the blessed truth, into soul ol Mattie hnfflish. Oh ! if Rowena Strong could only lave looked into that old room, with the night shadows choking up the corners. and seen Maltie English, as, faint with that overwhelming joy, she sank down on her knees, murmuring, 'Saved ! sa ved ! Father in Heaven, how -liull I thank thee !' '1 Two years had gassed. It was in the ate May, and one of those days that are the Spring s inspirations. The fresh, rant wind came up from the far-off fields, and circulated through the great leart of ihe city, and the sunshine lay in golden folds all over it. By the open chamber window of a tidsome brick dwelling, in one of the pleassmtcst streets, two young ladies were sitting, and the wind olten drew aside the curtains, and showed them to ihe peo ple opposite, or carried down to the pass- cr-by,.some sweet, sudden outbreak of girlish laughter. You would have known Rowena Strong at once, reader : but, though her face had nol lost its bright, piquant character, il had toned down into aa expression of womanly feeling and earnestness, which greatly heightened its attractions. Julia Gilman's small figure and sweet face are opposite her. The delicate Sax on features, the small mouth, the slightlv tinled cheeks, with the blue eyes, and rich, yellow hair, altogether, seem like an incarnation of young, beautiful girl hood. 'Now, Reeny, darling, it is too bad,' said Julia, in the first pause of the con versation which had set between them, an uninterrupted current for the last two hours, 'I must not stay here any longer, in this dusty travelling dress. It isn't treating you with proper respect. I shall go and change it this moment.' No you won't, either,' laughed Rowe na. at sup pnabed back her Irieiiu into the chair, rind then souiii.5 kv.oUf on its ami, she continued, 'Now, I have told you all about Charlie, and it is settled that you are to be bride's-maid, I want to hear about somebody else's matrimonial affairs You remember, you wrote mo you'd a a long story to tell, when you came, about Mattie English and Paul Stcbbius. Julia's face brightened. 'Oh, yes, I remember; but it's a great secret. You'll promise, solemnly, never lo divulge it?' 'Solemnly, never.';- Well, you know that some two years ago, Mattie refused 'Squire Allen. All of a sudden she seemed to become very happy, and went about the house singing like a May bird, and making preparations for her brother to go down to Maryland, and pass the winter. Everybody won dered, but nobody knew wljere they ob tained the money to do this ; but at all events, Mrs. English went South, the old house was closed up, aud Maltie ob tained a situation as governess in Mrs Miles'8 family for tho winter. She studied, too, very hard, alt her leisure, and in tho spring there was an opening in ihe Academy for an assistant teacher. Mattie accepted the situation, and last June her mother relumed from tho South Willi greatly improved health, as papa predicted. They rented the old home stead, for it was theirs no longer, and Mattie's lips were always as full of smiles as her brown eyes were of light : But the cream of my story is to come. linit, J?riciief, antr you remember Paul, Rowena T He was ihe handsomest boy at the Academy, when you and I went to the district school. He soon became'a daily visiter at Mrs. English's. His uncle was terribly angry when il came to'his ears, and lie threat ened to cdl Paul off with a shilling. But his spirited nephew informed him he had obtained a situation at the South, in some mercantile business, which would supply all his and Mattie's wants. So the crusty old bachelor had to swal low his chagrin as besl he might, and as Paul is his favorite, will doubtless make him his heir. They will be married next month, and this was the reason Mat lie could not accept your invitation to at tend your wedding.' 'You know old 'Squire Allen has mar ried a Boston beauty. People say it's the one Paul's uncle designed for him. Last week Mattie and I rode past their new, splendid stone dwelling. I laughed, and whispered, 'Mattie, you might have been mistress of all that mag nificence !' She answered with a shudder, 'Yes, and I should have been, but for one name less, unknown friend.' 'What do you mean, Mattie V She looked at me earnestly, and her eyes filled with tears. 'I have never breathed it to any,' she said, 'but mam ma and Paul ; but I will trust you, Julia. It was just at" sundown," (how wclM TCP member ill) and I was expecting 'Squire Allen that evening, (for it was the one he had specified,) to hear my decision wheth er I would be his wife. My mother was dying slowly ; starva tion va3 staring us in the face, and I said in my desperation, I will save my moth er; I will tell him I will be his wife. Just then a letter came for me, I open ed it, and found five hundred dollars, with these words, 'Use this, and do not marry Squire Allen.' The letter bore no other ate or name. That money was my earthly salvation. You know, Julia, all it enabled me to do. And lo that unknown friend do I owe it, that I am not this day the wretched wife of that gray-haired old man, the miserable mislress of yonder great man sion ! Oh, how I have prayed for the 'giver of lhat gift ;' how I have longed to see him or her, and say what I feel, and know to whom I owe all the bliss of the present, all ihe ectasy of thinking I shall be Paul's wife.' 'And don't you expect ever lo know this, Maltie?' Hardly, Julia, till I learn it up there,' and her eyes why, Reena, you are crying.' 'I can t help it, Julia, and Rowena s head dropped on her friend's shoulder, her cheeks. Julia had a sympathetic little heart, and the sobs came up to her throat so fast she could not finish her story. At last the door bell ranjj loudly. Rowena sprang up, with blushes rolling over her checks. 'That is Charlie,' she said ; 'I always know his ring.' And here's my travelling dress ! I can't bo presented to him in this,' cried Julia, and with a little shriek at the bare contemplation of so terrible an occurrence, she bounded toward her trunks in iho next room. tCT Life is a fountain fed by a thous and streams, lhat perish if one be dried. It is a silver cord twisted with a thousand strings that part assundcr if one is broken. Thoughtless mortals are surrounded by inumerable dangers which make it more strange that they must all perish suddenly at last. We are encompassed with accidents every day to crush the decaying tenements we inhabit. The1 seeds of disease are planted in our constitutions ' by nature. The earth and atmosphere whence we draw tho breath of life, are impregnated wiih death ; health is made to operate its own destruction. Death lurks in am bush along the paths. Notwithstanding ihis truth is so palpably confirmed by the daily examples before our eyes, how lit tle do we lay it to heart. Ve see our friends and neighbors die, but how seldom does it oocur to our thoughts that our knell may give the next warqmg to the world. itiicml Intelligence. CAN WlKlEJf KESP.A.EEC2ET. OR nOW MR. PODKINS 00T UIS COAT MENDED. Pshaw ! a woman keep a secret? Who even knew one to keep anything twenty four hours ?'. 'That's a libel upon the sex, Mr, Tod kins invented, Til be bound, by some thrice rejected batchelor, who could think of no other mode of revenge. Let any body put a secret in my possession, and if I can't keep it till the day of judgement then I wasn't christened Laura, that's all.' 'Guess I'll try you sometime,' and Pod kins applied a match to his segar and walked out. Proceeding to a confectioner's he pur chased a mammoth sugar heart and two smaller ones. This he took lo his shop, and cut a piece of shingle the exact size of the larger heart, and placed the wood en counterfeit in a paper with the small ones, that the packages might look as near alike as possible. , Nearly tea time Podkins entered the sitting room where Laura and her friend Mary were busy plying their needles. Seating himself near by, he drew from his coat pocket two small bundles, and presenting one lo each of the gills, remar ked that he had contemplated making them some presents, but hoped as an es pecial favor to himself that they would not tell each oilier what the paper con tained. Laura and Mary promised obe ,. .. , . ... . - .:'"-- dionoo, atilie enme ttme tasting tineasy glances at the mysterious gifts. 'Remember the first who breaks her promise will forfeit her claim to the title of seciet-keeper, and mend my coat by way ot a penally, added rodkins, using to exhibit more fully a most sorrowful looking garment so 'tattered and torn,' that a tailor would have been puzzled to decide what was its original shape. The girls considcted themselves safe concerning the coat, and chided the wear er for being so sceptical in regard to their ability to keep a secret. Curiosity was only half satisfied, however, after ascer taining lhat Podkins' generosity had bes towed a heart. It was not long ere the donor overheard Mary aud Laura in the kitchen, teasing one another to reveal by sign, at least, the forbidden fruit. But each stood her ground wonderfully and Podkins feared his coat would remain tatteied. The girl's sleeping apartment was contiguous to the one occupied by Podkins and his friend Barlow. As only a thin partition separated the rooms, it was easy to hear ordinary con versation from one to the other without the folly of listening. The two men were snugly ensconced in bed, when Mary and Laura entered the adjoining bed-room The door had scarcely been closed when the former exclaimed. Now, Laura, do tell me what was in your paper, it looked just Iitce mine, and I verily believe it is the same thing. I shall not sleep a wink to-night if you don't. Come, do tell, that's a good girl, and then I will tell you what was in mine. 'Well,' replied Laura, Hhero were two sugar hearts in mine.' 'And there was only one in mine,' said Mary, in a disappointed tone. At this point a respectable portion of the bolster went into Barlow's mouth while Podkins took refuge beneath the bedclothes, to smother his laughter as besl he might. At breakfast the next morning, while Laura was pouring out the coffee, Pod kins, turning toward Barlow, said very gravely: -'Well, there were two sugar hearts in mine. - And there w-.s only one in mine,' res ponded Barlow, so exactly imitating Mary's tone that she fancied herself speaking.- ;,:. The coffee pot dropped to great con fusion of sundry cups and saucers, and then crme a burst of laughter from the four that fairly made the dishes dance. '1 will take that coat after breakfast, if you please, Mr Podkins, said Laura, quietly, after the mirth had somewhat subsided. .... . ' Goino off well. A person who had been listening to a very dull address, re marked that everything went off well, es ' n rec'My Ihe audience . ' VOLUME L-NUMBEU. 48, . ,' J; .V " , '': From the Olive SmncU;. -" -. " ' THE WHITE iCSE-TNpi v Vv. . Beautiful was it in its nnsullicd fresh ness, as il was borne to the youDg bride; . and beautiful was she in her devoted af. fection, as she spoke those words which are ever, like the spell of the sybilf - "Franght 'itri good, or fraught with ill, ' Doomed to heal, or doomed to kill." ' ' Child as I then wa-, I looked up with mule remorse to the fair face so lull ot eloquent meaning. It seemed so strange to see a shade "upon the brow of our glad; hearted Oralinc, that it haunted my mem ory long after il had passed away. I did not then know that deep' feeling is ever serious, whether it be of joy or sadness; and a bridal had always .seemed to mv young imagination' a place for smiles and sunshine. So seemeih it to many a young dream er, who hath not yet lead from the dark er records of life, auglit to dim these vis ions. ' The bridal array, ihe congratula tion of friends, the new home with its tasteful decorations, - (la!i'd my young mind as they have dazzled many an older . one, and my awakening like theirs was amid the gloom..iVAid the gloom, yet not of mine owrlVrtVilcsoIation ; the' sh adow had fallen ytynfctvvcr that young bride, for the heaWrustingly given,, had been given to vftst-Vriworlhy. There are recess's" in the human heart, the most cherished may-never-ntcr ; there are records there, the most reckless dare not copy. We may enter home in the dark hours of suffering, when pain is racking the form which sickness hath laid low ; or when worldly wealth hath de parted, we may whisper of better wealth still left. We may stand by the 6tricken ; one, over the corpse of earth's best belov ed, and still, even there, may our love and our sympathy avail; but when es trangement has drawn its dark curtain around the heart, and ihe spirit hath sat down in its loveliness to weep over the blighted flowers thatonce blossomed there, ' it is then the part oflove to stand afar off, and watch and pray for the sufferer whom our gentlest sympathy may not relieve. Sacred be the veil that hangs over the heart's deepest recesses ! Not for the stranger's eye were ihe sorrows of lhat youthful bride, as the suffering wife, the strong-hearted mother, the patient Chris tian. We inay not tell how hope strug gled vainly against every doubt, until - reality brought conviction to an unwilling mind ; how love bore all, and forgive all, until though "strong as death," yet not 1 so strong as duty, it departed from the un worthy one, to seek refugo for its broken -wing where gentleness gave glad wel come. . ; Again was that form arrayed in snowy white, and again those tresses braided ' for a bridal. Again came cherishing friends to look on her young beauty, and again they saw the light shadow resting : over her high brow. They saw it now without sorrow, for it was the shadow of her bridegroom's smile. So they gath ered the white roses again, but this time they chose the full-blown flower, for its emblem was now the more fitting one. , Many were gathered at that bridal, and ihey marvelled much. They saw that the bridegroom's face was dark and stern, and they saw that she smiled not, but was pale and still in his cold embrace. . Yet her friends looked calmly on, and . they wept not now, nor trembled for her . happiness, as on that first bridal day - for :, ihey gave her now to one that deceiveth , never. So they gave her calmly to thai stern bridegroom, for they knew that only with him could their stricken dove find rest. '".,'. '( And not so sad as that first bridal gath ering, was this ; though the shadow alii lingered over tnat lovely face, yet now, t ( was softened by a look of holy trust, fo r the name of her dark bridegroom was Death, and they knew that she loved him, as the messenger of God, , : 1 1() ' Idr Coleman the dramatist, was asked if he knew Theodore Hook., 'Yes,' re " plied the wit, 'Hook and Eye are oldasso- s ciatcs.' -! ' ' ' ' "'" ' ;. ' , C7 Never contradict t man who slut j ters, it only makes matters worse, , , .