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I II liliMibilidlliiii' JIB li I JJ jJJ Q - rr CrK LVXJ 1701TTME I8--NQ. 10. CADIZ, OHIO, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 18, 1851. TEEMS-$1,50 A YEAl ... - ' ' ' it k J H 'lW'i.lWI1lM"-lWW. ... gt-Tr-7T:--r--r--1 r , - , "T ,. , . . . . . . Siitfincl Planner. .PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY. THAI. AMH. W. . 01 LIU. , WM. 1. LIN ALLEN GILES &, BLAIN, EDITORS AND PROPRIETORS. i, TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION, n-r One ilnllnr nnd fift cent if nil ill during .the year, or two dollars and n hulf alter the vt' pi.: ,.,:n k. ...-:ttu n.;hf.rerl tn. CajfUCB. inn into nm lie i't An nnrunn nmriirincr five reanonsible euliscn ber to the Sentinel, will be entitled to a copy for ho same length of timo. tree. ',, The Last Farewell.' The last farewell I took of thee, . My injured native isle! . .Was lisped in bilent agony, - . ' !; Though soothed by a smile. ' 1 smiled, but O, that smile was sad, For gloom was round my heart; .. And those who thought I then was glad, Knew not the inward part. : ...-! ; -, . i . . . ., I feigned a smile, 'tis true, and cheered ' The friends who nocked around; Friends from my infancy endeared, Who on me never frowned. , And O, their parting words tome, With sighs and tears combined; Although I'm now nmpng the free, 1 "' Hang heavy on my mind. And fairest of my sisters, Kate, I still think on the scarf You waved to me that evening, late, When sailingy Cloutarf; Methinks I still behold the hair, Which played on thy white neck; That I gazed on, until in air You dwindled to a speck. . And well I still remember, then, The cheer my brothers gave; As from the ship I answered them Back o'er the rising wave. . And when their voices died away, still sent cheers behind, . Pntil, o'er Erin's fairest bay, They mingled with the wind. What sadness filled me, as I gazed . On the receding shore; ; When I my eyes and hands upraised, To bless it evermore. ' 'And still fond prayers, my native land, if offer up for the, To Him who has the sole command, "'" And shall forever be. Hope. The sun may sink beneath the wave, And darkness shroud the main, But soon from out the night's deep grave I lie morn will rise again. The summer's smile and fragrant bloom At winter's frown may part, ' But spring shall waken from the tomb ' I .To warm earth's icy heart. And thus within the human breast . v The summer's sun may set, The sun depart, and Jjfe 'bp dressed In darkness and regret; ; But like the flower that bursts t)ip tomb, Or light that bathes the skies, Still over all life's woe and gloom The sun of hope will rise. ' T , An Abolitionist at Fault. '" 'Ihad a brothern-law,' said Mose Park ins who was one of the ravenest, maddest, reddest-hottest abolitionists you ever see. I liked the pesky critter well enough, and r should have fyeen very glad to see him cum to spend a flay, fetchin' my sister to see me and my wife, if the hadn't lowered his tongue (to run' on 89 pout niggers and slavery, and ffie equality ot tne races, and the duty ol overthrown . the Constitution of the . United gtatcs, and a lot of'other things, some of which- made me mad, and the best . part of ijm right sick; . 1 puzzled my brains a good eleal to think how I could make him shut up his noisy head 'bout abolition." 'Wall, one time when brother-in-law came 'vcr to stay, an idea struck me. ... I hired a )o8cr t he'P me a haying time. He was ;'the biggest, ugliest, strongest, greasiest nig ger you ever see. 'Black!' he was blacker "than a stack of black cats, and jest as shiney as a new beaver hat. I spoke to him.- 'Jake,' 'says I when you hear" the breakfast bell 'ring, don' you "say a word, says I' but you come into the parlor, and. sit right down among the folks and eat your breakfast.' The nigger's eyes stuck out .of his head about . jueet. 'Xou re a jokin, massa, sez he. vJokin.' sez J.; I am as sober as a deacon.' 1 fajitj sez he, . 'f ehant have' time to. wash . ' myself and change my shirt.' 'So much the ' Jbetter.' sez I. Well breakfast came rand : so did Jake,' and he set right down 'long side y , py brother-in-law. He started, but he didn't say a word. There warn't no mistake about . it;'. Shut your eyes and you'd know it, for ii was loud I tell you. There was a fust ; j-ateglpnc'e to talk abolitionism, but brother ' n-law never opened his chowderhead-:-';:, ' 'Jake," 'scd 'I, "you be on hand at dinner Jime;" and he was. He had been working i i m the . medder all the forenoon it was as not as hickory and bilin pitch and byt I ,i jeave the rest to your imaginations. ; i ". 'Wall in the afternoon brother-in-lrw come to me madder than a short tailed bull jn hornet time i ! 'Mose,' sed ho I want to speak to you.' ?:l IfSing itout. ics I. i , ,,'V ' I . hain't but a few words to say,' sez he, " fbut it th'a't vere.confouned nigger comes to the ; table again ' while I'm stoppin' , here, I'll '." clear out.' '; 1 , ,,, ; 'Jake ate his supper in the kitchen that ... nigni(lDui irominat aay to this 1 never saw my brother-in law open his head about" abo- litionism, When the Fugitive Slave bill was passed, I thought he'd let out some, but he didn't, for he know'd that Jake was still wor ,,t.:r . form.' ISABEL ALSTON OR, THE STEP-MOTHER. BY ORACH GREENWOOD. The villagers of N- well remember the sad jnorning when the bell tolled for the death of Emma, the once beautiful, lovely and beloved wife of Judge AHston. Many a face was shadowed, many a Jueart was in mourning on tjiat dey; for she who had gone so early to rest, had endeared herself to many by her goodness, gentleness and the beauty of her blameless life, Slie bad been declining for a long time, and yet she seem ed to have died suddenly at last, so difficult, so almost impossible it was for those who loved her to prepare for that fearful bereave ment, that immeasurable loss. Mrs. AHston left four children Isabel, the eldest, an intellectual, generous hearted girl of seventeen, not beautitul, but thoroughly noble looking; Frank, a tine boy of twelve; Emma, "the beauty," a child of seven, and Eddie, ths baby, a ! delicate infant, only about a year 01a. judge Allston was a man of naturally strong and quick feelings, but one who had acquir ed a remarkable control over his crpression, a calmness and reserve ot manner otten mis taken for hauteur and insensibility. He was alone with his wite when she du;d.' Isabel, wearied with long watching, had laid down for a little rest, and was sleeping with the children; and the mother, even in that hour, tenderly caring for them, would not that they should be wakened. The last strug gle was brief but terrible; the spirit seemed torn painfully from its human tenement jthe immortal rent its way forth from impris oning mortality, let he, the husband and lover, preserved his calmness through all; and when the last painful breath had been panted out on the still air of midnight, he laid the dear head he had been supporting agajnst his breast gently down on the pillow, kissed the cold, damp forehead and still lips of the love of his youth, and then summoning an attendant, turned away and sought his room, where alone and in darkness he wrestled with the angel of sorrow wept the swift tears of Jus anguish, and lacerated his heart with all the vain regrets and wild reproaches of bereaved affection. But with the coming of morning came serenity and resignation; and then he led his children into the silent chamber where lay their mother, already clad in the garments of the grave. There too he was calm, holding the fainting Isabel in his arms, and gently hushjng the passionate out cries of Emma and Frank. He was never seen to weep until Jtjie first earth fell upon the coffin, and then he covered up his face and sobbed aloud. Jjjrs. Alston was not laid in the village church-yard, but was buried, at her own re quest, within the arbor at the end of the gar den. She said that it would not seem that she was thrust out from her home if the light from her own window shone out toward her grave; and that she half believed the be loved voice of her husband, and the singing pf her daughter, and laughter of her chil dren, would conic to her, when she had her favorite flowers about her, and the birds she Jiad fed and protected building their nests above Jiftr iti the vines. When tji.c stunning weight of sorrow, its hrst abstraction and desolation Jiad been ta ken from the life and spirit of Isabel Allston, one clear and noble purpose took possession of hpr mind. She would fill the place .of her aearmomerin ine nousenoui--snp would console and care for her poor father she would love yet more tenderly her young .brother and sister, and bind up ther bruised hearts, sq parly crushed by 'flliction she would be a mother to the babe, which had been its first resting place, grown t)ld against its little cheek, nnd hard andinsensiple to its "waxen touches,,' now that the voice which had hus hod it to its first slumbers had sunk low and faltered and grown Mill forever, and the kind eyes which shone over its awaken ing the stars of love's heaven had sudden ly darksncd and gone out in death. Atter this it was indeed beautitul to see Isabel in her home. Thero she seemed to live many lives in one. She superintended all domestic all airs and household arrange ments with admirable cpurage and judgment. Her father never missed any of his accustom ed comforts, andh.cr brother and stater. were as ever neatly dressed, and well taught nnd controlled. But on the baby she lavished most of her attention and loving care. She took him to her own room she dressed, and bathed, and fed him, and carried him with her in all her walks and r ides. And she was soon richly rewarded by seeing little Eddie become, from an exceedingly small fragile infant, a well sized, blooming boy, not sfout qr remarkably vigqrous indeed; but quite healthful and active. Ihe child was passionately fond of his "mamma," as he was taught to call Isabel. Though rather imperious and rebellious towards others, he yiolded to a word from her at any time. At evening she would summon him from his wikfst'play to prepare him for his bath and bed, and afterwards jie would twine his little arms about her neck, and cover her checks, lips and forehpad with good nigbt kisses, and then droop his sunny head qn her shoul der and fall asleep, often with one of her glossy ringlets twined about his small rosy fingers. At the very break of day the little fellow would be Rwake, striding over poor Is abel, as she vainly strove for one hour's brief delicious doze, pulling her long black eye lashes, and peeping under the drowsy lids, or shouting into her half dreaming ear his yqcifprqus "good morning!" And Frank and Emma found ever in their sister-mqthpf re ady "sympathy, patient sweet ness, and affectionate counsel. They were never left to feel the crushing neglect, the loneliness,-the desqlatjqn of or-4 phantage; ana tney were Jiappy and atlec donate in return for all dear Isabel's good ness and laitutumeRS. x ct were they nev er taught to forget their mother, gone, from them neither to speak ot her always with sorrow and solemnity. Her name was often on their young " lips, and her name kept green and glowing on ' their tender hearts. Her grave in the garden arbor what a dear familiar place! There sprang the first blue violets of spring there blowed the last pale chrysanthemums of autumn there sweet Sabbath hymns and prayers were repeated by childish voiccs.which struggled up through tears there morning after morning were reverently laid bright fragrant wreaths, which kept quite fresh till far in the hot sum mer day, on that shaded mound and there innumerable times was the beloved name kissed in sorrowful emotion, by those warm hps, which half shrank as they touched the cold marble, so like her lips when they had last kissed them. Thus passed two yearsover that bereaved family over Judge Allston, grown a cheer ful man, though one still marked by great reserve of manner over his noble 'daughter v. .......... - ' ' Isabel, happy in the perfect performance of her whole duty and over the children, tlie ! . good and beautiful children, whom an an gel mother might have smiled upon from Heaven. It happened that this third summer of his widowhood, Judge Allston spent more time than ever before at the city of S , the countv seat, and the place where lav most ot his prolessional duties. But it was ru-1 niored that there was an unusual attraction in that town one apart from, and quite in- dependent of the claims of business and the pursuits of ambition. Itwa.ssaidthethought - i'ul and dignified Judge had sometimes been seen walking and riding with a certain tall and slender woman in deep mourning, pro bably a widow, but still young and beauti tul. At length an officious family friend cams to Isabel, and informed her without much I ed J ottered henhand alone, but that cordi delicacy or circumlocution, of the prevalent I a"y made some polite inquiries concerning rumors, thus giving her the first inkling of,tJl? journey, and proceeded to assist the a state ot atlairs which must have a serious 1 bearing on your own welfare and happiness ! her first intimation that she mio-ht soon be called upon to resign her place as a stran- ger a stepmother; iiis naa Decn her ; secret fear; to guard against the necessity of, this, she had struggled with grief and wea-1 riness, and manifold discouragements, had I - . .if mi - 1 , , . labored uncomplainingly, and prayed with- out ceasing for patience" and strength. Pale and still listened Isabel, while her alous friend went on, Ivarnning momently with her subjectcommenting severely on'""S t e wime lomoswne witn.n ana the helh-tlcss machinations of "'the widow," j?5 wo"dered sad 7 if her mother, lying who, though only a poor niusk teacher, had c.re m h,er & fei k"ew hout tins woman, set hseltf with her Wettish arts, ;;'pnVd-aS troubled for her children's sake. . snare'a man of the wealth, and station, and nk was Panted by Jus father, with years of Judge Allston. Isabel was silent; ! J?ueh W" e.nt Pr,dJ ? '",s yonpg atep-mo- but she writhed at the thought of her father, with all his intellect and knowledge of the world; becoming the dupe of a vain? design- j,,,, woman. I w, , .., i , 1 . -, i. m ' W hen her visitor had left, Isabel flew m' herown room flung herself into a chair,andinothave becn observably so, perhaps, ex covenng her face with her hands weptas;cept for the extrcmc M 0f 've. she had not wept since the hrst dark days ghe was ful and u fa h b of her sorrow. Isabel had grown up with mentsnot absolutely beautiful in her face, deep peculiar prejudices against step-mo h- but very lovely, with a most wi:ininr smile. crsjproDao y irom Knowing unit the ch.id-lnnd hood and girlhood of herown idolized moth er had been cruelly darkened and suddened ' bytho harshness and injustice of a step-1 mother; and now there were bitterness and s iarppam m the M.ou;g it that those dear children, for she eared little for herself,must hfi RllhlPCIOM tf flip 'irnn ruin' of nn nnlnvinir be subjected to the and silent heart. But she resolutely calmed down the tu "o mult of feeling, as she would fain keep her trouble from he children while there still remained a blessed uncertainty. Yet she slept little that night, but folded Eddie, her babe, closer and closer to her breast, and wept over him, till his light curls were hea vy with her tears. The next morning, which was Tuesday, while Isabel sat at breakfast with her chil dren, a letter was brought in, directed to her. It was from her father at S . Isa bel trembled as she read, and at last grew very pale, and leaned her head on her hand, As slip had feared, that the letter contained a brief announcement of the approaching, marriage of her father. There was no naU j On Sunday afternoon, about the sunset ural embarrassment exhibited; there was no Ihour, Judge Allston had been wont to go apology made for this being the first intima-1 with his children to visit the grave of their tion to his family of an event of so great mo-j mother; but this sabbath evening, I need mcnt to them; such things were not in his hardly say, he was not with them there, way not in character. He wrote: "Celiliaj "How cool and shadowy looks that arbor Weston, whom I have now known nearly j at the end of the garden, where Miss Allston two years, and of whom you may have heard and the children arc. Let us join them, me speak, is a noble woman, the only one ' dear Charles," said Mrs. Allston to her hus- whom I consider fully competent to fill your dear mother's place We are to have a strictly private wedding on Saturday morning next, and will be with you in the evening. To you Isabel, my dear child, 1 trust 1 need give no charges to show towards Mrs. Allston from the first, if not the. tenderness and affection of a daughter, the respect and consideration due the wife of your father. 1'his at least, I shall exact from all my children if it be not, as I fer vently hope it wil). bp, given -willingly and graceiuny. ' . When Isabel found strength and voice to read this letter of her father's aloud,' the un expected intelligence which'it contained was received with blank amazement and troubled silence. This was first broken by the pas sionatp and impptupus little Emma, who ex claimed with flashing eye and gleaming teeth, "I wont have a new mother! I wont have any mother but Isabel. I hate that Cecilia Weston, and I'll tell her so the very first thing! I wont let her kiss me, and J wont kiss papa, if he brings her here. Oh, sister dont ask her to take off herthings when shp cpmes, and may be sho wont stay all night.' "flush, hush, darling!" said fsabel, "I think it probable you will like her very much I hear that she is a very beautiful woman." "No, I wont like her! I don't believe she is pretty at all ; hut a prQS8 ugly old thing, that will scold me and beat mp, and make me wear frights of dresses, and jnay be cut off my curls !" : This last moving picture was quite too much for " Beauty," . and she burst into Wars, covering her ringleted head all up with her inversed pinafore. ' Frank, noAV a tall, noble-hearted boy of fourteen, was calm and manly under these trying circumstances, but expressed a stern, resolve, wl ich he clinched by an impressive classical oi.th, never, never to call the un welcome stranger "mother." "Mrs. Alls ton" would be sufficiently respectful.and by that name, and that only, would he call her. Jsabel said nothing, but inwardly resolved tSins to address the young wife of her father. Inring this scene, little Eddie, who only understood enough tojicrctive that some thing was wrong, some trouble brewing, ran to his mamma, and hiding his face in her lap, began to cry very bitterly and dispair ingly. But Isabel soon reconciled him to j-life, by administering sacharine consolation from the sugar bowl before her. It was, finally, with saddened and anx ious spirits, the little affectionate family cir cle broke up that morning. 1 With the bustle and hurry of necessary preparations, the week passed rapidly, and brought batuiday evening, when the Allstons with a few family friends, were awaiting the l , r .1. .. t . . 1 1 - i . - i i i umvai ui uiuduugc ana ana ins iair Dnae. There were not many marks of festivity in the handsome drawing-room ; there was somewhat more light, perhaps, and a few more flowers than usual. Isabel, who had; never laid off mourning for her mother, wore ! to-night a plain black silk, with a rich lace cape, and white rose-buds in her hair. Em- ma was dressed in a light blue barege, with "cr Pul cuus "oaung around her waist. -'V "-'ngui, rainer late in the evening, a carriage was heard coming up the avenue, ana soon aftcr Judge Allston entered the drawlng - room With a tall and slender lady leanmg .n llis a. Shrinking from the Slare ot "ont nd -with her head modestly bowed, Mrs. Allston entered more as a timid ad ill-assured guest, than as the newly ap poiated mistress of that elegant mansion. Isabrf advanced immediately to be present- unuu 111 removing ncr bonnet and shawl, Iie then called Emma, who advanced shyly, ey'ng tne enemy askanse. She extended her hand-in a half diffident, half defiant monnAt. kn. hfn A 17.ln.. 1 : i 1 1 il. ""- xmibiuu, ciuspingiiin uoui hers bent down ""d kissed her, smiling as she so on the ' loveliness of that face, The blootl sllot up to the very brow of the child, as. she turned and walked quickly awa7 to a distant window scat, where she m,u ou,1 pon ine garden, it was a, maS night, and she could see the " 7 " , wzy, mougn mnuiy, lnt?f ,11S handsM"c. )f vu face j Jt ?" so"le il bfiforf l8,abe Jmmi the PPortunlty to. observe closely the person a"1 manners ot ner lather's bride. Mrs. Allatnn wna T imvn cn;,i n.w u a sol. of earnest sadness in thonr. recognid at once as a spell 'of deep now ti onoll 1.0,1 ,..,fi n,..i i.u sion oi ncr sott hazel eves, which Jsahn of i.,,r ,1,m,ri1,.fni nnr. llnoc,.t:1i.i fntn. j She looked about twenty-five, and did not ,; iook nn8uit(.d to Jud Allsto w wkh ,i 1 v , . .. . . ' . .' . me glow oi Happiness lighting up Jus face, ana sparging from las ne dark eyes, ap peared to all, far younger and handsomer than usual. Isabel felt that her father was not entirely satisfied with the reception which his wife had met from his children ; but he did not express any dissatisfaction that night or ever after. It was a happy circumstance for Isabel, in her embarrassed position, that the next day was the Sabbath, as croinir to church I and attending to her household duties ab sorbed her time and attention ; thus prevent ing any ackward tete-a-tete with one whose very title, step-mother, had arrayed her heart , against ner in suspicion, and determined, uiougn unconscious antagonism band, as they two sat at the pleasant south Window 01 their Chamber, judge Allston hesitated a momenf, and . , ,v lum aroor, near cccmis uie pmce where my fJiima lies Su' i i i i . i 1 he young wife looked startled, and some- .w. I...U..I. U, miu iiuuiiu-. high connections. " On Monday, Isabel, after showing her "No," replied Isabel, coldly; "on the con-step-mother oyer the -house, resigned into tnr. T vmu! mnt t.w cmnnJ her hands the house-keeper's keys, with all the pnviliges and dignities of domestic au- tHUMvjr. Pay after day went by, and Isabel pre - scrvea the same cold, guarded manner to- wards her step-mother, though she often met those soft, hazel eyes fixed upon her, v urn. jm-nuiiig, nun ii-jjiuaimui iook, wu cu sue lounu u aniicuino resist, e ranjc ancl Lmma still remained shy and distant, and "the baby," constitutionally timid, would scarce look at the stranger lady, who sought m an anxious ill-assured way, to win its love and confidence. As little shrank from those delicate, inviting hands. and clung about Isabel, she would clasp him vet closer to her heart, and kiss his bright head with passionate fondness. On J; nday afternoon Mrs. Allston s piano arrived. This was a great event in the fam ily, for Isabel did not play, though she sang - 1 f V 'J 17 1 J L.i? rcj y evrvviy , nuu i: fuiiK mm ionium iiuu ooui a decided ta&u- for music. Mrs. Allston was gifted with a delicious voiee, which she had faithfully cultivated, and she playing with hqth nkill and feeling. All the pyeng sat Judge AHston, gazing proudly and tenderly upon the performer, and listening with all his soul. Isabel was charmed in spite of all her fears and prejudi ces, and the children were half beside them selves with delight. ' The next morning as she came in from her walk, hearing music in th parlor, Isabel entered, and found her step-mother playing and singing tho 'May Queen," with Emma close at her side, and Frank turning over the leaves of the music. The touching words' of the song had already brought tears; and when it was finished Mrs. Allston suddenly dashed off Ja a merry .waltz, and presently Frank was whirling his .pretty sister round and round the room to those .wild, exhilara ting notes. When the play eased, "O thank you, motlier!" said Emma going up to Mrs. Allston. In a moment the step-mother's arms were about the waist and her lips pres sed against the lips of the child. That name, and the glad-embrace which followed, struck the foreboding heart of Isabel. Her. eyes in voluntarily sought the face of Frank, and she was not displeased to remark the lower ing of his brow and the slight curl of his lins. But the eveuing of the next day, Isabel. on entering ine parior, umna rranicaione with his beautiful step-mother, sitting on a low ottomon at her side, as she half reclined .on a sofa, and leaning his head against her , f i t 1 . knee, while her soft white fingers were thrca ding his wavy, luxuriant hair. Isabel, giv ing.one startled glance at the two, who were chatting pleasantly and familiarly together. crossed the room and took up a book. Pre- sently, Frank rose and caayj and stood by her side. She looked up andmurmured with : aslighly reproachful smile. "Et tu brute." The boy colored, and soon after left the room, Thus the day wore on, Isabel feelin" her treasures wrested one after another from the fond and jealous hold of her heart; sorrow- ing in secret over her loss, and still pressing her mother's holiest legacy, her child, dear little Eddie, close and closer to her breast. 1 One afternoon, when the hour came for their daily ride, she missed the child from her room. After looking through parlor, kitchen, and hall, and calling through the , garden, she sought Mrs. Allston's chamber,! from whence, as she knocked at the door, she heard the sound of singing and laughter, "Come in!" said a light, musical voice. She opened the door hastily, and there sat little traitorous Eddie, in his step-mother's lap, gage at the hotel, and ran over to my mo playing with her long, auburn ringlets, while ther's house alone. I entered withoutknock- she sang him merry songs and nursery rhymes. "Eddie!" exclaimed Isabel, somewhat' sharply, "you must come with mamma and hp; dressfifl for a ridp " No. nn " crinH tl,B nnrvorsA plihl T don't wan't to ride I'd rather stay with my mrctty new mamma, and hear her sing about f Little Boo-peep.' " 'No. mv dear, von must m with vrmr sis-; ter," said Mrs. Allston, striving to set the on either cheek. Une hand Jaid halt-bur-little fellow down. Iried in his dark, chestnut curls, which alone , Isabel advanced to take him. but he buri- ed his fac in his step-mother's lap, and screamed, "Go away, go away; I love this. mamma best I won t go to rule with you!" i Pale as death, Isabel turned hurriedly and sudden grief, my tears fell so fast on his face passed from the room. She almost flew that he awoke, and half raised himself, look through the house and garden, to the arbor, ing up with a bewildered expression, to the grave of her mother. There she flun'' ! "Just then dear mother came in, and we herself upon the turf, and clasped the mound, and passed her wounded heart against it and wept aloud. "They have all left me!" she cried; "I am robbed of all love, all comfort; I am lonely and desolate. Oh my mother!" While thus she lay, sorrowing with all the , bitterness of a new bereavement, she was started by a deep sigh, and looking up. be held Mrs. AHston standing by her side. In stantly she sprang to her feet, exclaiming, itave l then no retugejr Is not even this spot sacred from officious and unwelcome in trusion?" ' "Oh, foibear, I entreat!" exclaimed'Mrs, Allston, with a sudden gush of tears. "Pray do not speak thus of me! you do not know me. I seek to love you, to be loved by you this is all mv sin." Isabel was softened by those tears, and f the. leaf, with the dying of the flowers he ,1 t-.i-.. .i tJAA1" ' Him jwuil-u suimi; imii arucuiateu Hpoiogy iori""-" the passionate feeling which she had exhibi ted. ' "Dear Isabel," said her step-mother,"will you hear my little history, and then judge whether I have erred in assuming the rela tion which I now bear towards you?" isaoel oowed her head in assent, and Mrs Allston seated herself in the arbor, but Isa bel remained standing, with a firm set lip ana ner arms iotded, "I fear," began Cecelia, "that your fath father has not been as communicative and confidential with you as he should have. I heard from him this morning, with much surprise, that he had told you very little concerning me and nnr first ; flpminint.inpp He said that you never eeemed to wish for confidence, and he could not thrust it upon you. I know that you must wonder 'greatly how your beloved father could choose a wo- man JiUe me poor and without station, or richly endowed by nature, could prefer a man of years and character of my father. I know not what there is in him for a beauti fi woman to fancy." . .Ali, Isabel," said Mrs. Allston, looking Up reproachfully, I never fancied your j father, ft is with a worthier, deeper, holier meiing that I regard him." jsabel g(lt down on the rustic geat near her step-mother, who cotinued iit a low but fumnt tone ye8( Isabel, I love your father, dearly Wn Him dm! h,, i ma T i,ovV ever loved," "What I exclaimed Isabel, "were you not then a widow when you married him ! "Why, ho, dear. Why do you suppose it ; i heard so at least 1 heard that you were in deep mourning." " That was for my mother," replied Mrs. Allston, with a quivering lip ; "yet until now, I have not been out of mourning for many years. I have seen much sorrow, Isabel." The warm-hearted girl drew nearer to her step-mother, who,, after a brief pause, con tinued ' " My father, who wa9 a lawyer of S died while I was quite young a school girl, away from home, already pursuing with ar dor the study of music. He left my mother very little besides the: house' in which' she lived. My only brother, Alfred, a jioble boy,; iij whom our best hopes were centered, had entered college, only the year Detore father died. . Then if. was that my mother, with the true courage of $ true heroine, and the devotion of a martyr, resolved to remove neither of her children from their studies, but by her own unWisted labor, to keep me at my school, and Alfred in college. ' She opened a large boarding house in S , principally for gentlemen of the bar; and almost from the first was successful ; I remained two years longer at school, when a lucrative situation was offered me as a teacher of music in the family of a wealthy Southern Senator. I parted with my moth- .er, witb dear Aitrea, ana went wim tne Ashtons to Georgia. There I remained, year after year, ever toiling cheerfully in the blessed hope of returning Jforth, with the means of .restoring my beloved .mother to her former social position, and of freing her from toil and care for the remainder of Ivor days. This was the one constant desire of my heart the one great purpose of my life. I thought not-of pleasure i cared not for distinction or admiration, or love. I only ! or aanurauon, or love. 1 oiuy thought of her my .patient, self-sacrificing angel mother. Here Isabel drew nearer, and laid her j innrl m flint hf.r t.t.n-niAtln.p nmccurl t it gently, as she continued "Brother Alfred, immediately on leaving college, commenced the study of the law. I shall ever fear that he confined himself toe closely, and studied too intensely. His con- stitution was delicate, like his father's, and after a year or two, his health, never vigor-1 ous, began to fail. Mother finally wrote .!me that she was anxious about him ; though 'she added, perhaps her affection for the be- loved one made lade her needlessly leartui." let 1 was alarmed, and hastened home some months before my engagement had expired, I had then been absent five years, but I had seen mother and Alfred once in that time, when they had met me on the sea-shore, "It was a sultry afternoon in August w hen I reached S : , I shall never forget how wretchedly long and weary seemed the last few miles, and how eagerly I sprang down the carriage steps at last left my bag- ing, ana weni airecuy 10 our mouier s nuie private parlor the room of the household. opened the door gently so as to surprise them. At the first glance I thought the room was emntv: but on looking acrain I saw some one extended on the little familiar chintz - colored sofa. It was Alfred, asleep there. I went sottly up and looked down ! upon his face. Oh, God! what a change ! j It. was thin and white, save a small red spot I preserved their beauty, and that hand how lender and delicate it -had grown, nnd how distinct was every blue vein, even the small- est i as I stood there, my heart wrung with all embraced each other, and thanked God out of the overflowing fullness of our hearts, As I looked at Alfred then, his eye was so bright and his smile so glad so like the old I took courage again; but he sud-! denly turned away and coughed slightly out such a cough ! It smote upon my heart like a knell. " When I decended4from my chamber that evening, after laying aside my traveling- dress, 1 found a gentleman, a stranger, sit- tin? bv Alfred's side, reading to him. in low, pleasant voice. That stranger, Isabel, was your father Alfred's best and most be- j loved friend. "I will not pain your heart by dwelling on our great sorrow, as we watched that pre cious life, the treasury of many hopes and much love passing away. With the fading Here Mrs. Allston paused, and covered her face with her hands, while tears slid down through her fingers. And she -wept not alone. At length she continued: "I have since felt with poor Alfred's last dying kiss, the chill of death entered into dear mother's heart; for she never was well after that night. Though she sorrowed bit terly for that only son, so good and beauti ful, she said she wished to live for my sake. ' swta'neef to be a faithful and loving husband, Yet vain was thatmeek wish vain were my !fts long as we both shall live.'' - , love and care vain the constant, agonized I -The bride then, in a voiee somewhat Yitl pleading of my soul with the Giver of life. ; tering,. repeated a similar declaration, nnd She failed and drooped daily, and within a h sat down. ! '. . ' - " " year, she was laid beside father, and very! f'wo young men of the Society then placed near to Alfred. She died, and left me alone ; before them a small bible, containing a huge alone in the wide world! Oh, how often 'parchment .scroll, .which they -iened, and dear Isabel, have I, like you, cried out with n the presence of the assembly the brido that exceeding bitter cry of the orphan, 'Oh, ; ard gropm affixed ' their' sigimturoxv ''An mother, mother!" -elder of the church then read the document Here Isabel flung her arms around her , "loud to the audience. It set forth that the step-mother, and pressed her lips against her cheek. "In all this time," pursued Cecelia, "my, "age, that the Society had nppmved-of the chief advisor and consoler was the early j same, and that by their joint, declarations friend of my motlier, the generous patron of! and signatures they had, arrived a " full ac my brother your father, Isabel. "And when 'complishmentbf their intentions" lie then the first fearful days of my sorrow had gone j stated that all tho Friend1 were invited to by, and he came to me in the loneliness and sign -as winesxes, after the close of tho meet- desolation ofmv life, and strove to civeme comfort and courage telling me at last that he needed my love, even the love of my poor crushed heart then I ; felt that in loving him and his, I might hope for happiness ever more. , But ah! it in loving him in becom ing his wife, I have brought unhappiness to! those near him, and darkened the light ot, their home, I am indeed, miserable?" "Uh, do not say so do not say so: ex claimed Isabel, "xou have won all our hearts. Have you not seen how the children have drawn towards you--cven Eddie, my babe? I have not called you by her name I do not know that I can so call you so here, but 1 can and will love you, and we shall all be very har,py; and, by God s help 'kindly affected' one to another!"" "Ah, my dear girl, ' replied Mrs. Allston, with a sweet smile, "I do not ask you to call me by a name ot so much saeredness and dignity; only love me and confide in me lean upon mv heart and let me be to You as an elder sister," The evening had come, and Mrs. Allston, Isabel, and the children, were assembled in the pleasant family-parlor, awaiting the re turn of Judge Allston from his office. Isa bel was holding little bddie on her knee. ihe child had already , repeatedly, begged pardon for his naughtiness, and whs full asi y.f ever of his loving demonstration. Ceeeli was, as usual, seated at the piano playing half unconciously, every now and then glan cing impatiently out of the window into the gathering darkness. Isabel sat down th baby -boy, and going up to her said- " Will .you .play the "Old Arm-chair" for If vou vBl ring with me'ieplied Cece lia, with a smile. The two began with voices somewhat tremulous, but they sang on till they . came A to the passage ' . ' t "I've sat and watched her day by day (. . "While her eye grew dim" here they both broke down.1-' X7 Cecelia rose ad wound her arms around 5 Isabel's waist, and Isabel leaned her head on Cecelia's shoulder, and they wept together. At thatmomcnt Judge Allston entered, and t atter a brief pause 01 bewilderment, advan ,.,! ...it,, -, nn(i nu,M. t,m UVIn fine (ijnbra Ue 8aid not ft mrd twbut afterward, when he bade Isabel good-night,' a( flie foot of the stair.way he kissed her ' more tenderly than usual, saying as he did ... . .so, "God bless you my daughter! , :' .A Quaker Wedding. ' "' ' '.' "Married in this city yesterday, at the Qua- ker Meeting Jf onse, on t ath street; Mr. Hekimt huuuof this city, to Miss Hannah-. u - - lAitoa 01 ivewporc -.i.t iJ A large company assembled at the unos tentatious church of the Society of Friends )ra - l,uJ " ' witness so una- usil an occurrence as a Quaker wedding.- As the spirit moved us to be present, we propose to give a description of the ceremo ny. It was a regular monthly jneetingof the Friends, a small though highly respect ed Society worshiping regularly at the house above mentioned. When' We 'arrived the church was nearly filled with young ladies s who had been attracted . there by curiosity, t their gay dresses contrasting strongly with the sober drab of the three or four rows of. Quaker ladies occupying seats on the oppo-' site side of the house, and fronting the main." auJience. The shad-bellies and broad-briiiis, slipped quietiy into the seats in the men's di vision of the house, and commenced their silent communion with their own spirits and the spirits ot the un.seen world. After a halt. ""ur s profound silence, there was some ap-4 PH 1 !nce oi uneasiness among me spectators.' were amused at a whispered ;;cojvcra- "on between . a country girl and. her more knowing city companion, ' ". "What do these women wear snch awful8, looking bonnets for? They look like half hornet's nest; half coal-scuule." - , . "Hush; that's the Quaker fashion,' ? , "Where is their minister?' . . s ' "They have no minister.'1 . ' ' "Who preaches then?" "- : ' ' ' ' ' "All of them, or any of them, just as foevt happen to fell." i vt'.,"" "Why don't the meeting begin?" "Hush itp;the meeting has beehfoogiun this half hour." - , Why, nobody has said a word, and tlw lave got their hats on. "iever nniui, sonieoony win speaK oon, raided the spirit moves: them, and they always wear their hats in church." "6, 1 know; they are w aiting for the bride and groom." ' ' ' "Jo, indeed, they've been here half an ainur; don't you see them sitting directly op, positcihat handsome young man in gold specs, and the lady beside him, dressed in plain white satin." "I want to know if that's them; they don't look Quakerish a bit. I should like to knoy who's agoing to marry thpm?" J ... . ,) ... "Nobody; they will marry themselves," . "Marry themselves! well, why in tha world don't they begin? t- What are they waiting for?" . , ,. . j...,- "Waiting for the spirit to move." ' Another half hour passed ' in solemn si lence, at the end of which time the bride nnd brdegroom arose, facing the audience,; tne bridegroom pronounced the following words; " I, Henry Shipley, in the presence of God, and of this assembly, take this woman to bo my wedded wife, promising, with Divine as ''parties had, at the regular monthly meeting ! preceding, signified -their intention of mr- i"g- After a few moments more of silence, tho newly married cople suddenly rose and left the church, and wereollowe'd by the whole congregation. rhe audience was well pleas ed with the ceremony, which we think wa the most sensible we evpr witnesscd.-OAi. nonpareil. fr6" A minister was walking out one day and "pastel two little boys, one of whom bo ed. As he turned his back, lie heanV the following amusing conversation: .i ,J "Why, John, didn't you know that wai parson W ( - , ' ' "Yes, of course f did." - ' " 4 "Why did you not make ft bow to him?' "Why ' my mother don't belong to his ehurch." ; , ; . ;-v-. v -, .- ' ' . s &3T "Will you keep ah eye on tny hon my son, while I step in and get a drink?'"f "Yes sir." , , . , Stranger goes in, gets his drink," comes out and finds his horse missing.J " ' "Where is my horse, boy?.' t. W . , n 'He's runn'd away, sir.' . . .. j "Didn't I tell you to take care of him, yo young scamp?' No sir, you told' me to'kitep my eye on him, and i did till he got clean out ol sight. JtW Subscribe for this Taper; . 4 ..... j J ft. 1 ":V 'it. .-ft f ' ) -'I Li . . 4- ;! -v r i3- t.1 i Wi w i"'