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Fremont weekly freeman. (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1850-1853, October 12, 1850, Image 1

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Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85026051/1850-10-12/ed-1/seq-1/

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I. S. FOrKE, Editor aad Publisher,
F Tk Fataaua, r published every Sataniavmorn
lag- Office la Backland' Brick Building third
lory, t remonu aauamnv county, unio. -
'-''r , TERMS.
Sin jrl mail fob-criber", per year, ' "
Club of tea and apwarda, to on address
Club of fifteen .
Town aubecriher wiH be charred si 75. ,
1 50
1 37J
. The dif-
fereoceio thn Urma between the price on paper
jeuvereo iniownana tnos eul by mall, locca-
aiooed by the expanse of carrying. - '. . ---'
. When the money Uaot paid in advance, a above
Specified, Two Dollars will be chanted if paid witl--
jn the year, if not paid antil nfter the expiration of
rie year, 1 vu Uollara and Fifty cenlawill be charg
ed. Th-ae terms will be strictly adhered to. "
flaw to Stop Parca First see that tod hare
avd for it up te the time vou wish it to stop;- notify
the Past Master of year ck-eirp, and ak biro to no
tify the publisher, under his frank, (as be is author
ised te do) of your win to discontinae. . , v
Oue square 13 lines first Insertion..'
$0 50
, junt - bucd eamuouai Huenwa
t Do Three months. ....
Do"." ' Sic months.
5 Do" i One tear....................
2 00
....'3 50
5 00
.... 6 00
.... 10 00
.... 18 00
....30 00
Two iqaareiSix anonthr.
Do On veer...
Half coin ran On year.;... ..
' One column On year. .... ..
Easiness Dtmtorg.
F R E n 0 J. T F R E E M A H
B-- ' ' '- ' - ' ' ,'" '"
;W nre now prffuirvtf to weenie l srHrT. in
ueat an exprrfiiima manner, and upuu the fuireaf
lexmn; laluiost all deMripttenft of . '
. -.- such as L , " , . ,
.lUutNhU CHD,
Bill Hkads. .
Bills f Labibo,
stacvLans, -.
H .snaiLLS. " - -J- -T '
CATil.OOUM, ' . '-.-
Show Bill. -.V
'. '.tunicas! Br a i.i,
f KHTiriciTita, "
Dark Chech, ;: ,
I. aw Casks, '
Ball TicaitTi. arc", arc.
' ! We would av te those of oor-frienda who ere in
-want of such work, roa need not go abroad le tret
A done, when M can be dene jnrt as food at noma.
. Font gntrHrnfos Division, No. 432. Staled
neelinga, every Tueirfay evening at the Divwioo
Room IB Iha old Northern bxehnnge.
I. O. O. F.
Cioeatu Locor.. "Vo. 77. meetr at !be Odd Fel
lows' Hall, ia Burkl-nd'a Brick Buildings eeery
tBaturdny eeeniag. - -:- vr
. - aiAntirACTonKs or '
topper, Tia, and Sbect-iron Ware,
" AND DKALKRS IN r ' :, ' '
Stores, STool, Hides, Sheep-pelts, Rairs,
Old Copper, Old Stoves, &c, 4c. :'
Pease's Brick Block, IVo.
' ... " DSALERS IK i
' v3rn?rs, Medicines, Paints, Dye-Stuffs,
jjookg, Stationaay, Act .
Attornef and Counsellor at Lawi '
5 . : ; h FREMONT, OHIO. '
' Office" One door south of A. B. Taylor's a'ore.'up
etatra. -' .--- Aoe. 31, 1S50.
- Attorney and Connsellor at JjAxt,'
V And Solicitor ia Chancery, will attend to rofes
toaal bnsiaeaain Sandusky and adjoining counties.
- Office Second story of Buekland's Block.
JTOHX Ia. gbeexe,
And Prosecuting Attorney, for Sandu.ky county,
rill attend le all professional hasines entrusted to
ili caret with promptness and fidelity.
Office Ia the second story of Bucklatid's Block.
v..,. FREMONT, OHIO. . - '
" Attorney and Counsellor at law,
--.And Sol ichor ia Chancery, wfH esrefully attend
ye all professional basiaess left in his charge. M
Will also attend to the collection of claim &c, ia
" Abie -and adjoining counties. ' - ,
' -Office Second atory Bockland's Block. '
Aitoriaey and Counsellor at Law,
Will gie hia undivided attention to professional
ttasiaes ia Sandusky sad the adjoining counties. -Office
Orer Oppeuheimer Store; -; - :-
" FREMONT, OHIO, i7' ; 1
f; ; - .: , . K. M BAJXA, . . rf
TTIENDER. hi professional serrices to the citi
J. sens of Frmenl and adjacent eonnMT. .""-v --
Offio-e Oue duir north ef E. Le-ppeiman'a Jew
airy Store, wbere.be will cheerfully attend to, any
calls, except whra absent on professional duty.
June 84, 1850. ' -' - - ' "
- IiA l. RAWSOX:
Offioe North side of tb Turnpike, neatl) oppo
arts llia rest Utbce. . , , . '
-a -T .- . r FREMONT, OHIO. ; 14
... Respectfully tedders bis professional services to
the citizen of r reroonl sua nanny, , .,
' Office One door worth of E. N. Cook' Store,
Sfatnal Fire Insurance Company.
JX. P. BUCKtiAU'D, Agent:
-'. FREMONT. OHIO. ; "
Tb regular Poet Office hour, until further no
tice will be as follow:
From 7 to 12 A. M. and from 1 te 8 P. M.
8uadays from 8 to 9 A M. and from 4 to S P M.
if; W.M. STARK, P.M.
Farms to Iet! -
SE V ER A h FA B MS, near Fremont, and conve
uient to the Turnpike, 0.TO BENT j
, Some of these have Eiehly to Ninety seres clear
ad thereon, with comfortable jionae, Barn &c.
v, - Eoquireof SAML. CROWELL,
. -- - General Land Agent.'
r Mukalunge March 2, 185051-5. ...
In al I kin ds of Prod u ce ;
: H At the Old Stand '
Eonnerly occupied by Dickenson fe V. Doren.
.EREMONT, OHIO. . :. ..4 ,
December 15. !S49 ' " , . " '
THE choieect Liqoor and Wine for- Medicinal
and Mechanical purposes for sal at ,
Bccklakd's." ,
.; From the. Southern Literary Messenger.
. , , ; 8TR0KB riRST. LIPB.
- There is s delight that a large portion of
the world knows not God has given it almost
exclusively to the mother and father; and
a holy valuable delight it is. I mean the
charm of watching with untold interest and
care the growing up of the child from the fee
ble world of Notice, to the powerful world of
Energy. The father knows the joy that crowds
instinctively upon him, as he watches the gra
dations of bis darling's growth ; and the moth
er only can feel full sympathy with this feel
ing of bis. And so the child is another strong
tie or should be between them ; for man
must fore that which yieldeth most sympathy.
But that is a pleasure in which I am initiated.
My heart was full for blessing to those who
were around me: I could chime in with their
feeling, I felt, more than any other. I love all,
as they all looked up to me, and therefore
knew that feeling. - . : - 1 -. .
Esmond (my master) was a very happy mart.
It was as plain as day-light the existence of
which lias never been denied, aa the f rench
speculator thanks God and really there
wasn't the slightest pretext for doubting in
the premises. ' Bless your soul bow could it
have been else ? He had money plenty :
he had a sweet wife that he loved till you'd
almost call it sin. He had three aweet chil
dren of the several ages of six, five and four
the Inst bving theonly daily h ter. A very bon
nie wee thing was little dimpled Fanny, (nam
ed after her mother,) and the dream and day
delight of the two brothers. These were two
fine boys Esmond the eldest, and Richard
the other; both comely and smart. And all
the family ns healthy as, I! I said that Es
mond's happiness was as plain ns day light.
Indeed now that 1 bethink me, it was much
more obvious. Day-light is very complicated
as I understand it woven colors even as
a rain bow. His happiness was far purer than
that; for it was wrrathed. of affections the
purest, of aspirations the holiect, of love the
most untinged. Indeed I wondered when first
thrown into this amiable family, how it was
that so much of good was mingled with so lit
tle of evil. I almost thought that the general
curse naa never fallen there !
Never again do 1 expect to see any sight so
lovely upon this green earth, as 1 saw in the
peaceful and nappy home of Esmond. 1 here
were no strifes nor aught but harmony ; in
love they worshipped (od for blessings so great
that they could not conceive them.
The boys and girl grew ; their dispositions
and physical faculties developed. Time bore
the family on in Ins quiet chariot which makes
no noise in its going. The yon ng men left their
father's house bearing unnumbered blessings
and prayers with them. They went forth in
the great world 'to grasp its pleasures and
to grapple its stints. The younger Esmond
went into the great city. His keen, vimirous
mind carried him swiftly on to prosperity, as
the expert Cnptain soonest guides his hunt in
to the haven. He lived with all the happiness
that wealth can give, and withal high station.
tie married early in life.. I know nothing of
his wedded life, of its happiness or its cares,
for I never lived with him. He used to visit
us sometimes though, and they were a hand
some enough couple at any rate. They had
no children.
. Richard also married a sweet lovely girl.
I can see her now, with the fine calm face, the
bright blue eye, and the f tir skin beneath her
auburn hair all of which likened her to an
angel with me. Theirs was a heavenly union,
Uod knows how many are there such, I
I do not think Richard was suited for the
world as Esmond; nt any rata, that was the
impression he always' made on me. There
was something about him too calm and kind
ly: something looked forth from his eye when
he was by himself, and sometimes (though not
often) when others were near. I would some
times took at the book he was reading, for he
was ever at his books, to see if upon its page
there was not something slowing:, red hot.
hich shone up in his eyes and made them
flash and glisten. Having a competency, he
entered into a more retired life than his broth
er. He lived I believe in the country, wrap
ped up in love for his family and in his read
ing. It 1 mistake not he wrote too; wrote
books that were sounded abroad everywhere,
and sealed his name on the tongues of the
great and small of all the land.
anny was almost the very life of the old
couple. . Their heads were now sprinkled .with
snowflake8 which the wing of raerey yes, of
mercy) scatters on those who have seen the
spring-time, and the summer, and the autumn
of life ; I do not mean, as seasons in cold or
warmth but as times of life. She soothed
the way did Fan and with ' her trained
glance saw the motive of their pleasures and
joys, hhe tenderly spnke to thum of the days
past, of their darling sons and oh! her eve
ry word was a pearl, as with the good and mu
nificent girl that she had read of in the fairy
tale years before, bhe thought when she read
it, that it was all a foolish fancy; and never
dreampt to the day of her death that it was
realized as truth in her own angelic life!
, And beautiful Fanny was beioved and ad
mired also! There came from the gay city a
dashing voung fellow, wealthy and high and
handsome ; and her brother Esmond told her
that he was the one for her band and she
would laugh and turn away from bis earnest
ness with glee: And there was another. A
fair young man, not very handsome nor weal
thy, but he had a thoughtful face that made
me love him, and count him worthy to marry
sweet Fanny. I thought too I ean't tell
why that Fanny ' loved him. But really it
was stranire to see and hear how her brother
Esmond hooted at the idea of a match with
him. - 'And how he urged the other from the
city and spoke of his gold ! But good gra
cious! I've been stopped an hour
(The old Clock raised its hands at the enor
mity of its delay. . It quickly, however, ran
them around its face, and then followed with
rather a mournful tone.)
Change change change! So cry the
moralists, and who can more righteously pro
long it than a Time-peice ? ' I would bless the
Ureat bpint for nothing, rather than this same
universal law of Instability. .This life is
wrought up of bright and dark pictures, and
dark pictures, and the motto of Ancillon and
Bonnet is as worthy in morality as philosphy
Philosophy knows no useless irtUh. All
have their good as well as evil .The pillar of
cloud may have a dark side aa well as one of
fire, but we are to be guided by both to the
land of promise. Chance! it is a glorious, con
stant lesson. In the revolving seasons which
in their storms and winds and biting cold, tell
the great power of God ; and in the genial
spring in blossoms and fruits glorify His boun
ty we love and adore the hand that establish
ed mtdabilty. Who would love the flowers if
they forever played in smiles about the face
of nature ! None. See, "on yonder darkest
cloud, born, like hallowed hopes, of the glory
of another world, and the trouble and tears of
this, brightens forth the rainbow." But why
do the children clasp their hands in ecstacy,
and run beaming with delight to peer through
the window : and why do all exclaim and point
up? It is because that bright and beautiful
Bow will ere long be gone! Suppose the skies
were streaked with rainbow hues; think you
men would not pine for the blue air again ?
Thank God! there's no such thing as same
ness on the earth ; and he who talks of mo
notonous life but shows short-sightedness.
I don't know that I was thinking of these
things when what I am about to relate occur
red, or anything germane to them. They
would however been appropos then, mar be, I
think, now if it be allowed a clock to moral
ize, and truly to my mind there's nothing in
the wide world with better right, us I've be
fore intimated.
One day I almost he'd my breath and stop
ped, at seeing lovely Fanny slip in the room
hastily and bury her face in her hands. She
was trembling, and oh, so pale ! and every
now and then wrung her hands in silent ago
ny, and wept Soon she left roe alone with
ray astonishment - You may judge that this
latter was not a little increased by a subse
quent event, one of the most momentous of
my personal history. 1 was to be moved I-
Two men came in and bore me from my wont
ed corner, to another room in the house.
Alas! when I arrived there I knew the cause
of all the commotion ; of Fanny's being mov
ed to such grief, and my being also moved.
There on the death bed lay the mother, sweet
and beautiful in her sinking paleness yet, tho
now full gone in age,
There,' she murmured sweetly, whilst a
smile lighted up her wan face, 'I'm very glad
its here. ' that old clock is my dearest friend,
1 would have been ever thinking of it Let it
set there till I die.'
Ten thousand emotions filled my breast as
she spake thus; feeling of pain at what I saw,
of exquiste joy that I could yield that, loved
one pleasure.
'But won't its striking disturb you, mother
said Fan mildly.
' 'No, no : there's a sort of music for me in it
love it won't hurt."
All was still save for my ticking. It was a
dear delight to have her melancholy face turn
ed towards mine, and reflect that it caused her
pleasure. ' The old man never left the room of
her he had loved so fervently and so long.
Fanny was the good genius there; she had
always been good in truth but never so good
and lovely as now; no, never. And so it ev
er was and will be, that if cherished, our good
Angels of life are brightest in the valley of the
Shadow of Death.
- Finally she died. It had been a fair cloud
less day, and the setting sun had reflected its
rays upon my face with unusual splendor.
the bright moon, (I don't like to call it 'silver'
it s too mercenary,) crept softly on the floor,
low down, as if unwilling to be seen as well as
- The night wore on : a night it was so filled
with benuty and softness; so inspiring of tho'ts
of a bct'.er land, that I had a presentment
that it was a fitting time for that ioved one to
die. I was not shocked when death drew
nigh : when toward midnight she called all into
the room and told them of the radient Home
that she saw in the far off land. It was twelve :
and ere the sound of my voice proclaiming it
had died from the room, her life on earth bad
faded also.
The next morning as it shone in the room
discovered Fanny sobbing beside the bed of
. But this was not all no, no! The grave
of the lost one had not yet been veiled with
the sprinkling grass when another misfor
tune of the same kind occurred. - It was again
death. Not however death of one who had
long lived to raise up those' God had given
her, and in blessing them feel blessed ; not the
death of one looking back on- the long list of
life s joys. Ho. out death creeping silently
upon the cbeek of prime and early life, spread
ing pallor on the countenance that seemed to
be glowing with the spring breezes of many
years to come. . . -
Not very long after the death' of her moth
er, Fanny sat conversing tenderly with her ven
erable father. It was, I remember well, on a
lovely Sabbath evening.
'Oh, it was hard, very hard !' sighed the old
man, burying his face in his hands.
'Yes, my father, but could it not have been
worse' The lovely girl could not have gone
'Worse!' cried the old man. . 'No, Fan no
worse on earth.r
A long and tearful silence succeeded.the old
man then said to his daughter:
'It is wrong. Fan, for me to brood over my
sorrow : I would be ungrateful. Read to me,
child ; it will be very pleasaut for me to bear
Fanny reached forward on the table and se
lected a book.. The place where she opened
was More's beautiful allegory of Prosperity
and Adversity. In the sweetest and most
birdlike voice I ever heard she commenced
reading it The old man listened very atten
tively. ,
She read of the arrogant wealth of Felix, to
whose lot had fallen the fair nymph of pros
perity ; of his pavilions and grand entertain
ments. She read further on of his miserable
and wretched flight; and of the oblivion that
crept over his footsteps. She went on, and
with angelic tone read of Urania, the Heaven
ly for such the name signifies of sorrow and
heaviness, of his fruitless efforts and wrestlings
with the hard, unyielding world. And when
way-worn he seemed to pause from his own
spirit, and look to the ill-favored one beside
him, Adversity: she read with a glowing eye,
and features lit up with an unearthly trans
port, the words of Adversity, thus; listen
. 'I am sent,' said Adversity, 'by the gods to
those alone whom they love; tor 1 not only
train them up by my severe discipline to fu
ture glory, but also prepare them to receive,
with a greater relish, all such moderate en
joyments as are not inconsistent with this pro
bationary state. - As the spider when assailed
seeks shelter in its inmost web, so the mind
that I afflict contracts its wandering thoughts,
and flies for happiness to itself. ; It was I who
raised the character of Cato, Socrates, and Ti
moleon, to so divine a height, and set them
up as guides and examples to every future
age. Prosperity, my smiling but treacherous
sister, too frequently delivers those whom
she has seduced to be scourged by her cruel
followers, Anguish and Despair: while adver
sity never fails to lead those who will be in
strcted by her to the blissful habitation of tran
quility and content' ' -
She could not read further of Uranio's hap
piness afterward ; but the same teaching which
brought consolation to him, now caused Fanny
and her father to be locked in the embrace of
holy affection. Resignation would thence for
ward move in the bereaved homestead.
But alas! on this very Sabbath evening a
messenger arrived in haste and presented a
' "te to Fanny. Poor thing! how was her
spirit which seemed fast reviving crushed
again, when she found that it . begged her to
hasten to the house of her brother Richard,as
his wife was taken suddenly ill. She too would
die I thought and great Heaven, how the
thought made my head to swim and my voice
to quiver. I was not wrong. Fanny saw, as
did Richard, that the lovely and youthful wife
must die. Death-sleep silence reigned in our
mansion for many days thereafter, for Fanny
had written to the old man, her father, that
she would have to remain and nurse her sis
ter. 1J ut who shall, picture the old man s
Forgive me that I do not picture the death
scene in the once happy borne of Richard
tor the lovely wife died, leaving two lovely
children without one on earth to call 'mother;'
I would not if I could nor, can I, for I was
not there to see and feel it cut on a lovely
day as lovely as when Fanny's mother died
I saw afar off through the open window of
the chamber, the . solemn procession which
bore the young wife's body to her last rest
It wandered along by a sweet stream, and be
neath waving though quiet trees on its banks.
I looked on and on and followed them till my
sight was dimmed by the distance and by grief
The old man had gone out a short while
before sunset to walk. A short time after his
wife had been buried, Richard entered with
his wonted beauty and composure.thongh very
pale and leaning on his arm was weeping
After a brief silence the former of these
Tell me. Fan promise me, if you will come
and live with me.' -
'I will live with none after my father rather
than you.'
None?' -
'But will not my father come and we will
live together,' said Richard. - -
'There is a memory that binds him there,'
she turned her eye homeward as she said this.
' 'Ah, well but promise me, dear sister,
that you'll live nowhere else save with me.'
There was something singularly pathetic in
the tone of this request Fan looked up quick
ly, and observed an expression on her broth
er's face akin to agony.
'Dear brother,' said she, 'why do look and
beseech me so? I said it'
'Fanny' he replied, taking her hand affec
tionately, 'I am aware that there will be an
object in getting you to go elsewhere ; to live
when our father has died in another place, a
place where will be luxury and gayety more
than with me.'
Richard faltered here : his sister regarded
him strangely, and with emotion .
'Fan,' he finally said, as with an effort, 'I'd
as well tell you at once ; of late I have been
in reduced circumstances so with me would
be sacrifice.'
1 won't leave you for that, oh no! and I will
care for poor little Henry and Richard."
"Thank God !" said Richard, as be left the
Fanny's eye glistening with thought The
wealth that she would inherit from her father
should be a bounty and a blessing to her
afflicted brother and his motherless boys!
There was an immortal glory in the design
of blessing, that made her look angelic. It
seemed too- whilst she sat after Richard's
leave, that a holy atmosphere surrounded her
which warded off for the moment stinglnggrief.
Alas! grief of another kind and trial poor
(Just here, to its own unspeakable discomfi
ture the Clock discovered that its weights had
been so interested in the narrative as to stop
still quite. A moment of railing created some
discord in its usual winning tone; and then
came in a measure rather ominous,)
There is a strong pain attendant on a cer
tain inevitable law of nature. When the old
man dies listen to a hint of my feeling. Look
ye it is as when the old oak, so long green,
so long shady, so long known to me as the
guardian spirit of the flowers and the grass of
the yard ; it is as when the old tree falls, I feel
like a part of myself, of my personality was
gone. And the more, if that venerable asso
ciate of a boy's dreams of a man's memories,
fall by an unimely blast, or by the wood-cut
ter s steel.
The day succeeding the interview just de
tailedonly the next day, just think! found
the old man laid low upon his bed, and Fanny
poor Fan weeping by his side. The old man
not, but his countenance indicated to me
some secret restlessness of soul. The old man's
days were well nigh numbered.
Whilst r anny stood pressing his hand, there
was a low gentle knock at the door; and the
visitant was bid to enter. It was Esmond.
The old man rose feebly on his pillow and whis
pered to Fanny; who immediately left the
room, after receiving a kiss from her brother.
Esmond drew near and took the old man s
hand. Both were for some length of time si
lent; and the old man's face seemed more sor
rowful than ever.
'Have you well thought over what I said,
father?' said the son finally.
'xes, 1 have considered and
'I would like truly for Fan to have her own
wav if I'
'Could so arrange it properly.' The old
man sighed deeply.
'1 have frankly told you all, father,' replied
the son 'am confident whereof I affirm. Rich
ard is now penniless it isn't in him to be any
thing else.'
'He has been unfortunate.
'All one all one.' reioined Esmond hastily
and somewhat pettishly, I thought : 'it's all be- f
cause he has no one element of success: and
do you wish to encourage Fanny to live with
him; she will do so, if she can, and ere Jong
your money given to" Fanny will be Heaven
knows where !
The old man was still, with anguish cling
ing to every lineament of his face
'And then, father, fr yotf can loon out oj
the place you're going toy you'll see Fanny
wedded to David Gere ha! ha! and much
his books will help the mope to support your
daughter and make her happy. If Fanny lives
with brother Kichaed he will bring it about;
whilst my friend Bayne near the richest in
the city will be disregarded in his attentions
altogether, I suppose.'
The old man's face showed a struggle, with
in, yet bearing the same rigid grief.
'I will be plain,' continued Esmond. 'It is
your duty to save your daughter from poverty.
That will most certainly await her at Richard's
home. Leave her your property in my hands
to be enjoyed on provision that she lives with
me. - . -
The old man groaned. -
'Otherwise I. am not cennected with the
matter, and,' here he spoke in such a very
low voice, that I could not catch what he spoke;
the old man's face changed thereat '
For some moments a death-deep silence
prevailed in the room, alone interupted by my
self. I felt nervous as to the result I long
ed though I understood but little that the
old man should refuse the request -of Esmond.
I had no confidence in him, for he scowled al
most when be spoke of his brother and of Fan
ny's lover the fair, pale youth of whom I have
before spoken. My heart was well nigh break
ing when the old man consented, as he did.
'I will,' said he. -
I have some friends near by who will write
your Will then.' '.- Esmond rose and left -the
room ; and as soon as he did so, the old man
burst into tears upon his bed of death. -
'Oh God!' he cried, 'protect my dear child,
and shield her from harm.' -
The old man died I
When a short time afterwards Esmond re
turned, he turned deathly pale and felL I did
not see any sign of grief no tear no sigh
was there. - But there passed athwart his face
an expression of rage shall I call it Bnd there
by call him a fiend ! The old man had died,
and that Will was not made. Looking on were
two well-dressed, sleek-visaged men. I took
both to be lawyers: one had some sheets of
paper in his hand. , t
Esmond rose up, and with a fearful eye
locked the door. He then grasped one of his
friends by the shoulder, and pressing his mouth
close to his ear, whispered something I could
not understand then. He whispered also to
the other. The two looked at each other, and
then bowed to Esmond who stood anxiously
before them.' One of these was Bayne Fan
ny's city suitor.
The three sat around a table near the cold
corpse : Good God ! how pale and ghastly the
four looked. . The same rigid aspect of grief
was written on the face of the dead clay : from
the faces of the living there were looks as of
murder and deceit and cf daring crime. I
shuddered in that bouse.
For some moments there was a stillness of
the grave in that room, which I now felt was
filled with the rottenness of crime. One of the
men was engaged in writing At length he
finished. 4 -
'Can you imitate bis hand precisely?'
'Yes, res,' answeied Esmond hastily, 'and a
sick man doesn't write like himself.'
He was about to write, when another hell
ish idea beamed over his face. Can I tell it
of the son of the sainted parents; of the broth
er of Fanny and Richard ? Yes, he forced
that pen into the fingers of his dead father's
hand, and then grasping them with his own,
he wrote his name on that false Will!
"There we can swear to the letter of the
truth now.' " A smile as of an infernal flame
from Tophet lit up his features the devil!
1 he strangers departed after some conver
sation with Esmond in whispers. -The latter
then with a - look of hypocritical melancholy
called for his sister. - She came swiftly, and
another moment found her beside the body of
her dead parent, bathing his forehead with
her tears.
As the senses diminish in point of number,
they become far more acute: the ties to the
world without it have more power where they
exist. It was so with b anny now in the world
of feeling. One bv one many had now been
broken of the chords that twined around her
heart and bound it in lqve to things around
her: now all was centred in Richard for she
knew Esmond but slightly. -
( The old Clock hastily brushed away a ris
ing tear with its second-hand, and then, after
a momentary pause, succeeded)
Many were there who came to the old man's
funeral Close by the shrouded body there
stood a young man to preach the funeral ser
mon. I saw his face directly;-it was David
Gere, the lover of Fanny, who had now be
come a minister. All who were in the room
held down their eyes weeping.- His only were
bent upward. He spoke to them from those
most soothing words, spoken by one of the af
flicted and scourged of the earth, that our light
afflictions, which are but for a moment are not
orthy to be compared with the glory of fu
ture revelation. He pointed them to that fu
ture land of blissful repose: where a kind
hand should wipe all tears from all eyes :
where the wicked should cease from troubling,
and the weary rest His face jhone (to my
eyes) as he spoke. He was not loud in his
words: Ins was a sweet, calm, enunciation that
seemed to flash around the soul and found an
entrance in the heart because it came from
the soul. His voice quivered, and his eye was
dimmed, as be continued bis theme.
A long procession followed the beloved hus
band, father, and say it the much loved
master to his tomb. Sweetly I prayed may
the grass wave on it
Fanny left with her brother Richard and
the young minister, I saw her not for some
day 8; and indeed saw no one save Esmond
who came frequently. I now for the first time
almost in my remembrance, ran down from
neglect no one saw fit to set me a going again.
I could, however, observe.
One day when Esmond had finished bis in
cessant overhauling of furniture and other
things, be wrote a note for Fanny to bis broth
er Richard's; and in a short time she came.
It was truly a most painful interview. I burn
ed to see him kiss her the demon.
'Fanny, you will prepare now to come and
live with me in the city,' he said.
'I cannot I have promised Richard she
mildly answered.
'You will have to waive tnat promise, my
dear, for the future.' ,
'No, no I must not indeed; Esmond.' "
'I must insist on your going with me; it is
entirely proper.'
Fanny only shook her head.
'It is useless,' continued Esmond, 'to delay
telling you that such is the will and dying re
quest of your father.'
Fanny started, and only replied, - 'he never
mentioned it to me.' -
'It was nevertheless his last I should not
say request but provision and command.
am ordered so by his Will.' With that he
placed the Will ia her hand. She read it, and
as she did so turned pale and wept . .. -
" 'You will see by that the wise plan of your
muienieu lamer; you cannot disregard it
'My father, I know, would have left it to my
choice; and you will agree' -
'I cannot he made me promise; you see
that the only alternative to what he wishes you
to do, involves the loss of property I would de
light to give you. I will leave the matter with
you trusting that you will not encumber
Richard.without the meansof-self-supporthim-self
penniless.1 . - ,-
Yes! so did the villain speak, and then left
Fanny to her painful thoughts. : A sad mo
ment it was indeed for her already bowed
spirit ; She thought over every thing, when
Esmond left her there in the room; and the
day waned in her -reverie. She' resolved to
tell Richard alL And very unexpectedly he
entered the room at the time, for her delay
had caused him to come for her anxiously.
She told him all; of her deep, unspeakable
grief, and begged him not to attempt to sup
port her, poverty-stricken.
His answer at the end was, 'for God's sake
remember your promise to me.'
: '1 will I will,' Fanny cried, and sobbed on
his bosom. . . . : i: ; ' -
Esmond'sfeelings were balanced when Fan
ny told him her decision. - A large property
had been added to bis already large estate;
but he saw likewise that he was destined to
fail of the match he designed for Fanny, and
which had now become a design of interest to
him. . There was none but Esmond that knew
of a certain secret drawer about me; the old
man had never told any other member of the
family and then only communicated it to him
on his death-bed. , It was a place where be
sept some valuable papers of title, in ease they
should ever be needed. - Here it was that Es
mond put the false wilL ; I recollect the time;
it was dusk or thereabout and he looked
around stealthily before he approached me.
I-could have gladly choaked him. He hid it
and left the room. I saw him through the
window get in his chariot to go to the city
At that instant a very large black dog jumped
trom tne road side at the horse's throat
saw that the horse shook off the dog and star
ted at full speed . in great fright - That was
all; and there was no other witness to it be
side myself, that I knew. ; But oh Father of
Justice! within half an hour after he had left
the house he was brought back by four men
before my eyes dead! There he was Stretch
ed out on the bed with every limb broken,
and every muscle seemingly mangled!
'How did the horse take fright?" asked one.
'I don't know; the first thing I saw the
chariot was dashed to pieces at my side, and
Esmond with it The horse dashed on; but
be' the man pointed to the bleeding body-
Tie ver breathed again, that 1 think! - -
I could have told them much oh, yes: I
could have told tbem of a devilish instrument
of conveyance that as now kicked irretrieva
bly in my bosom; and thai would never barm
any now, for that it had been overruled as an
invalid Will at the bar of the Omnipotent
Judge of quick and dead! I could have told
them of the dire stain that the poor body had
been freed from when it lost the soul from its
That bloody corse was a thrilling sight, and
caused thrilling reflections. A strange one it
was to see, when the bearers bad retired, and
Richard and Fanny, being called, stood over
that body, little did they know of the dire
evil which had been blown as a black cloud
from over their heads, when Esmond died.
Fanny knew more perhaps than her brother,
buttold knot ' Both now wept: it was Nature
that wept in them.
God bless you, Fan! I have in my bosom
that which could, and was to beggar you but
I have in my bosom too much of love for you
ever to give it up, ' . '
(A smile of joy lit up the face of the old
Timepiece as he said this. He rubbed' his
hands together, and on his forhead ; and there
upon with a sweet voice as of music to all of
us, came) -i s ;
But I must haste, for the morning dawns,
as it now commences to dawn genially on Fan
ny in my story.. None claimed her property
now since Esmond was dead, except David
Gere, the'minister, loved by all the neighbor
hood as well as Fan. His claim wasn't an
nulled ! It was a lovely day to my soul when
I saw Fan, as fair as the lily that shone on
her dark hair, and as pure, wedded to David
in the house of her fathers. There she lived
henceforth in peace and holy happiness : and
to me it seemed that the hours gleamed on
my face as they passed and warmed me into
youth and yet glided so swiftly in the quiet
joy that they brought, that my bell ' was put
in requisition twice, to where it used to be
once! A house of piety and gladness was
that forever. And that was not the full meed
of the cup of Pleasure. " God gave Fanny
fair and bright children, thnt should call forth
that deep fountain of purest feeling which
lies hid in the deepest recess of a mother's
soul and whieh the colder eye of man may
not see or understand.
- Esmond's wife came to live with hei broth
er Richard after her husband's death at his
urgent request The stroke of fortune teemed
to have clothed her young spirit with an al
together different temperament ' She was
quiet now, and not devoted to gayety and fash
ion: she turned her mind upward and sought
her pleasure from above; She proved withal
a kind mother to Richard's children.
Of the two nccompliscs of Esmond in the
procurement of the false writing, 1 need only
say thai one went to the wars, and has been
of late killed in a duel: the other is now suff
ering in the Penitent,s lodge of the Fleet for
forgery! - . 1
I have in my breast thnt Paper yet here
it is, almost bidden by the webs of vermin
and the dust as it should be. I have told
you its history most truly. Learn by it
greatest lesson's if you have wisdom. Ol my
friends fire will not more surely burn the
hand that is thrust therein, than that the ini
quity of man will return to fiitrt ns Noah's
ddve but will bring no Olive Branch of peace.
The rich man that always speaks to a ponr
relation, has gone to Spraker's Basin, tosptnd
a few days with the old gentleman wfca don't
meddle with other people's business:-- What
a pair of curiosities they would make travel
with, wouida't ther
Wonders of Astronomy Beautiful
.. i Description. .
It was a pleasant evening in the month of
May; and my sweet child, my Rosalie, and I,
mounted to the castle' top, to enjoy the
breeze that played around itand to admire the
unclouded firmament that glowed and spark
led with unusual lustre from pole to pole.
The atmosphere was in its finest and purest
state of vision ; the milky way was distinctly
developed throughout its whole extent; every
planet and every star above the horizon, how
ever near and brilliant or distant and fair.t,
lent its lambent light or twinkling ray to give
variety and beauty to the hemisphere; v. hila
the round, bright moon, (so distinctly defined
were the lines of her figure, and so clearly
visible even the rotundity of her form) seem
ed to bang off from the azure vault, suspend
ed in midway air; or stooping forward from
the firmament her fair and radiant face, as if
to court and return our- gaze, ..v
We amused ourselves for some time in -observing
through a telescope the planet Jupiter,,
sailing in silent majesty, with his squadron,
of satellites, along the vast ocean of space be
tween us and the fixed stars ; and admired"
the felicity of that design by which those dis,
tant bodies bad been parcelled out and ar
ranged into constellations, so as to have not
only bean beacons to the ancient navigator,
but, as it were, for landmarks to astronomers
at this day ; enabling them, though in differ
ent countries, to indicate to each other wiih
ease the place and . motion of those planets,
comets and magnificent meteors,which inhabit,
revolve and play in the intermediate space.
: We recalled and dwelt with.deligiit on the.
rise and progress of astronomy ; on that series
of astonishing discoveries through successive
ages, which display in so strong a light the
force and reach of the human mind; and on
those bold-conjectures and sublime reveries,
which seem to tower even to the confines of
divinity, and denote the high destiny to which
mortals', tend : that' thought for instance,
which i said to have been first started by
Pythagoras, and which modern astronomers
approve; that the stars which we call fixed,
although they appear to us to be nothing
more than large spangles of various sizes,
glittering on the same concave surface, are,
nevertheless, bodies as large as our sun, shin
ing like him with original and not reflected
light placed at incalculable distances asunder
and each star the solar centre of a system of
planets which revolve around it aa the planets
belonging to our system do around the sun;
that this is the case not only with all the stars
which our eyes discern in the firmament, or
which the telescope has brought within the
sphere of our vision, but according to the
modern improvements of this thought, that
there are probably other stars whose light bss
not reached us, although light moves with- a
velocity a million times greater than that of a
cannon ball; that those luminous appearances,
which we observe in the firmament, like flakes
of thin white cloud, are windows, as it were
which open to other firmaments, far, far be
yond the ken of human eye or the power cf
optical instruments, ligh:ed up, like ours with
hosts of stars or suns; that this scheme goes
on through infinite space, which is filled with
thousand upon thousands of thousands of
those suns attended by ten thousand times
ten thousand worlds, all in rapid motion, yet
calm, regular and harmonious, invariably
keeping the paths prescriped to them ; and.
these worlds peopled with myriads of intelli
gent beings. . '. I
. One would think that this, conception, thus
extended, would be bold enough to satisfy
the whole enterprise of the human imagina-:
tion But what an accession of glory and
magnificence does Dr. Hersbell superadd to it,
when instead of supposing all those suns fixed
and the motion confirmed to their respective,
planet, he lossens those multitudinous suns
themselves from their station, sets them all in
motion with their splendid retinue of planets'
and satellites, and imagines them, thus alien-,
ded, to perform a stupendous revolution,- sys-"
tem above system, around some grander unv'
known centre, somewhere in, the boundless,
abyss of space : and, when, carrying on the'
process, you suppose even that centre itself
not stationary, but also counterpoised by bther
masses in the immensity of space, with which,
attended by thti. accumulated trains of '
Planets, ann and adamanline rphrrri, "
Wheeling ouabakeo through the void immenae,'
it maintains harmonious concert, surrounding
in its vast career some other centre still more
remote and stupendous, which, in its turn
"You overwhelm me," cried Rosalie, as I was
laboring to pursue the immense concatena
tion; "my mind is bewildered and lost in thef
effort to follow you, and finds no point on
which to rest it weary wing." , "Yet there is,
a point my dear Rosalie the throne of. the.
Most High. Imagine that the ultimate centre'
to which this vast and inconceivably magnifi-'
cent and august' apparatus is attached and,
around which it is continually revolving .'Oh!,
what a spectacle for cherubim and' seraphim,
and the spirits of the just made perfect, wba
dwell on the right hand of that throne, if, as-,
may be and probably is the case, their eyes',
are permitted to pierce through the whole, -and
take In at one glance, Bllits order, beauty,
sublimty and glory and their ears to distia-
guish that celestial harmony, unheard by. ug,,
in which those vast globes, aa they roll on ja
their respective orbits, continually hymn their
great Creator's praise! - , 4 , . ,t
Tie Secret of Excellence. .?v
Hazlitt, in his "Characteristics, says:,'ThS:
highest pre-eminence in any one study cots
monly arises from the concentration of the at
tantion and faculties on that one study.: He
who expects from a great name in politics, in
philosophy, in art, equal greatness in other
things, is little versed in human nature. Our
strength lies in our weakness.. The -learned tit
books is ignorant of the world. U who ia
ignorant of books is often acquainted with
other things; for life is of the same length in'
the learned and unlearned. The tcind carr-i
not be idle ; if it is hot taken "up with one
thing, it attends to another through choice r
necessity; and the degree of previous captcify
in one class or aao'.bsr is a mere lattery."-
" The following is a literal copy of a ieiler ,
sent to a medical gentleman: ' " ' " ' " ' .',
"Cer Yole oblige roe if yole ium un cema
I l,a.va'a Bad kowld, am Hill in my Bow Hills
and have lostmy Happy TighVv !.',.'"-".";;!!
. ' --n ' ' 0v ' . '! 7",-Jv-.Jr
- Bbautiful.-."Ab winds th round h
tree, as to the crag, the moss patch, roots s
clings my constant solfl to thee !, my Own, my
bcttuiiftit ! -i-MT boots I".

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