The herald., August 05, 1871, Image 1

About The herald. (Smyrna, Del.) 1870-1871

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THE HERALD
THE HERALD
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At SMYRNA; Del.
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VOL. II.
NO. 21.
SMYRNA, DEL., SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 5, 1871
M
IT IS NOT TOUR BUSINESS WHY
The following lines are not limited to any
particular locality, but ure applicable to ev
ery neighborhood :
Would you like to know the secrets
Of your neighbor's house and life?
How he live» or how lie doesn't,
And Just how lie treats his wife?
How lie spends hin time of leisure,
Whether sorrowful or gay,
And where he goes for pleasure?
To the concert or the play?
If you wish it I will tell you—
Let me whisper to you sly—
If your neighbor is but civil.
It is not your business why.
Jn short, instead of prying
s affairs,
If you do your own but j ustice.
You will have no time for their's.
Be attentive lo such manners
Ah concern yourself alone,
And whatever fortune flatters
Let your business be y
One word by way of finish—
* whisper to you sly—
If you wish to he respected,
You must cease to be a pry.
Into other
own.
FOU OTII FIlS' SAKE.
'Tis happiness to love our work
For its
And could we always, none would shirk
Or dread to wake.
sake,
But life is long, and we may cease
To love our tusks ;
Illusions past, the sober days
Throw off their musks.
;ith averted eyes
And faded bloom ;
The spirit (pin ils and almost dies
Before their gloom.
They front
Ah ! then we learn work has no worth
For its own sake;
And sordid all the tasks of earth
Till love partake.
For, truly, only love our lives
Can worthy make;
And he is happiest who most strives
For others' sake.
and
one
angry
life.
ns
was
-ftüscflhtucons.
'HP
Mrs. Chester's Diamonds.
"Well, mv dear," said Mrs. Chester,
rubbing her plump, white, little hands
until the rings that e
sparkled like dowdrops in the morning
sunshine, "we've got a splendid day tor
our journey, haven't we? Its ulmost
like Indian summer."
Clu»*a Champfort, Mrs. Hyde Chester's
sitting by the win
dieted them
when
he
have
race
most
with
Then
''companion," w
dow, thoughtfully watching tho yellow
sunshine creep across tlie pavement.—
a tali, pale girl, with heavy
«ho w
black hair, deep hazel eyeB, and com
(he outlines of a
plexion colorless as
Greek statue—u girl full of odd, peculiar
rhom the ser
character, concerning
talked mysteriously; and whom
old Scotch housekeeper hesitated
not to pronounce "uncanny."
Jlyda Chester liked her, and Mrs. Iiydo
Chester's will was law in her own home
hold.
*'I wish you would not go to-day, Mrs.
Choster," said Miss Champfort, abrupt
vants
the
But Mrs.
iy.
••Not go to-day ! Why, bless my heart
alive, child, what do you mean ?"
''I had a dream last night—oh, such a
troubled dream, with blood in it and the
shine of daggers, and a man's face, dark
and square, with overhanging brows
and a cast in one eye! And the darkness
seemed closing, closing round you and
me, and, somehow, the diamonds were
sparkling through it all!"
••Bat aiv dear, what nonsense all this
is," said Mrs. Hyde Chester, laughing
•• Because you had a had dream last night
1, no reason that we s heuld postpone
our journey."
"It is a reason, Mrs. Chester.
"Now, Clara," laughed the pretty
good humored lady, "you are really get
ting too absurd for anything.
"Mrs. Chester, I never dreamed such
a dream as ihat once before, and then
i*-"
at
"Then what happened ?"
Clara Chauipfort'B voice fell to a wins
per.
I
tile night before my poor
tied out to visit a sick
"It was
father was summo
patient. The night wasdark and stormy
The horse, missing Ins road, wandered
tlie edge of tho old stone-.uai ry
woods, aud both were dash
too near
in Waustone
ed in pieces."
Mrs. Chester's
pale; but «lie clung
own theory.
chesks turned a little
resolutely to her
tho merest
dear Clara, it was
"My
Cb "But,"Mrs. Chester, you will at least
let me persuada you to send the jew# s
by some hand ?" nn, ov
"Nonsense, Clara, why should I? lb y
will ho a great deal safer with 1
want to give them to Geraldine myself
the evening before sho is
There's another good reason for not
postponing our journey; I want the
evening for a good chat with my favonte
niece, instead of arrlvingjust ut the la
niinuto before the oeremony.
Clara looked wistful and unuoti
but she said no more; and M™. Hyde
Chester sat down to the breakfast tab e,
odor of broiled haul aiose in
whence the
a most appetizing manner.
Mrs. Hyde Chester's niece, Miss Ger
aldine Raymond, waste be married the
next day betone; and Mrs. Hyde Ches
ter had set her warm, impulsive heart
on being present at the ceremony; and
moieover, on presenting the bride with
a very beatiful set of diamonds, which,
with their antique case of dark green
morocco, lined with sandal wood scent
ed satin, had descended from generation
to generation in the Chester family, un
til the present inboritraix of the
having no daughter of her own, had re
solve 1 to give it to her favorite niece.—
Nor were all the unfavorable omens per
taining to Champfort's dream sufficient
discouraging to proven ther from carry
ing lier determination into instant
cution.
"I never was superstitious," said Mrs*
Chester, laughing; * and I don't mean to
begin now. Are the trunks and things
all ready, my dear?"
''Yes, ma'am, they are all ready."
''Then, I suppose, we may as well or
der the carriage. I can't bear to be bo
liimlhnud at a railroad station. Look !
you see I carry the diamonds in my own
morocco traveling bag, so they can not
possiby be stolen. Does that content
you?"
"Only half, Mrs. Chester," said Clara,
smiling a very faint, indistinct kind of a
shadowy smile.
Mrs. Hyde Chester, a bustling kind of
a person, wns not satisfied until they
were at the station, had purchased their
tickets, and safely bestowed themselves
>ii the train.
name,
exe
Clara Champfort was leaning against
the window, idly watching the hurry
ing throngs as they perpetual^' came
and went, when suddenly she withdrew
her face, with a low cry.
"Mercy upon us child !" exclaimed
Mrs. llyde Chester; "what's the mat
ter?"
"The faco—the very faco I saw in my
dream! ' Claracaid, her own face blanch
ed like that of a dead porson. "Oh, Mrs.
Chester, it is not too late for
back yet !"
"Do you moan —"
"I mean that he passed the window
—with the durk, square face,
to turn
just
and the beetling brows, and tho cast in
one eye. Oh! Mrs. Chester, our Pate is
following us in his sliapo !"
"Clara," said Mrs. Chester, as nearly
angry as she could over bo, "I never
such ridiculous superstition in my
life. Do keep your signs and omens to
yourself; you fairly makeiny blood run
cold."
"But Ike diamonds," muttered Clara,
ns if speaking to herself; "their glitter
was interwoven through it all. It must
list be that he watoliod you
bo—yes, it
when you got them from the bank—that
he is on our track !"
"Clara, hush ! I tell you I will not
have it !"
And Mrs. Hyde Chester's fair, plump
race actually looked, for the instant, al
most pale. Clara turned toward her
with an eager, wistful glance.
"We go as for as Terriswode by train.
Then Terriswode is twolve miles from
Daingerfield?"
"Yes—we take that conveyance
a
thence."
"What kind of a road is it?"
"Very wild and picturesque."
"And lonely?"
"Yes," Mrs. Chester admitted, almost
unwillingly, "it is a little lonely."
"Do we pass over it by daylight ?"
"Mostly, if tho train is in time."
"Itwill noth» in time to-day," said
Clara, quietly.
"Clara, how can you toll ?"
"I don't know; but I am quite sure ef
a
"I don't know; but I am quite sure ef
i*-"
"I wouldn't have my head full of Old
World notions as you for its weight in
gold, Clara Champfort," said the elder
any, trying to repress a little shudder,
which, in spite of herself, would thrill
through lier frame.
But Miss Champfort, stange to say,
was right. The train, due at Terriswode
at five, did not arrive until some min
utes after six, owing to tlie delay conse
quent upon repairs on the line.
"I knew it," Baid Clara quietly, while
Mrs. Hyde Chester stored ot lier, al
most beginnig to believe that the old
right, and Clara
was
housekeeper
Champfort was "uncanny.
several rusty equipages
There were
waiting at the out-of-the-way little rail
road station to carry passengers in vari
ous directions; and Mrs. Hyde Chester
the most civilized looking of
all to carry herself and her young
engaged
them
companion to Daingerfield.
"There," whispered dura, as she took
her seat beside Mrs. Chester, "did you
see that man glide past on the platform ?
I told you he was following us !'■
Mrs. Chester stretched her plump
neck, but she oould only see the back of
the passer's head.
••After all," she said, argumentative
ly "a railroad station is free to all."
Clara did not answer, bat leaned back
in the vehicle. .... ,,
Mrs Hyde Chestor chatted merrily,
as thov rolled along over tlie uneven
roads; but Clara answered hut
in tio mood for con versa
s
y
1
e,
in
country
little—she was
U< TlIo November night, chin m,d star '
teas had closed quite dark over the glen
Of the autumnal copses, as they began
ascend the long, wooded hill that lay
between Terriswode and Daingerfield.
Both ladies, wearied with their long
tourney, wore quite eilent Mrs Hyde
Chester had fallen into a doze, whon sho
suddenly roused by tho vehicle com
jug to a full stop.
to
was
so
"Dear me," said Mrs. Chester, sitting
upright, "what can be the naatter?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," said the Jehu,
his face appearing as it were, in a black
foam, at the window of the equipage,
"but we've broke down."
"Broken down 1"
"Yes'm, it's—the axle tree broke
clean in halves.
"But can not you mend it?"
"Not unless I had the tools, ma'am,
and there ain't a shop this side o' Terris
wod e."
"But what are we to do? We can't
stay here all u 5 ght. We must walk the
rest of the wav to Daingerfield."
"It's six miles, ma'am, and a mortal
bad road."
"But what else can we do ?"
"You might, stay at Toby Wooden's
just beyond—don't you see the light a
twinklin ?"
"Is it a public house?"
"Well, no ma'am, not exactly, but
they does take folks in when they
git 'em. And I could ride back to Ter
riswode and get another tlirap, and*
you'll be at Daingerüeld in good time in
the morning."
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Chester, des
pairingly, "I wish now that I had fol
lowed your advice, Clara. I shall not
reach Daingerfield to night, after all."
Toby Wooden's proved lo be a ruin
ous old farm house built on a hill side
in the wood, and distinguished mainly
by its high peaked roof and dilapidated
porch.
"Well, I «'pose T kin take ye in," was
Mrs. Wooden's puzzed rejoinder to their
potilion for a night's shelter. "There's
the upstairs chamber—Simeon can take
the seed corn out. We've got two men
here a'ready, and-"
"Two
ly. "What sort of men ?"
"One of 'eui's Dan Gilbert, the peddler;
and t'other's a likely fellow enough. I
dou't know what he is, but he squints
<1 red lui bad with one eye."
Mis. Hyde Chester could feel Clara's
grasp tighten on her arm, with a sort ot
nervous energy.
"I knew it—I know it!" she whisper
od eagerly. "Oh, Mrs. Chester, do not
let us come here—do not let us tempt our
fate. We had better sit in the carriage
all night."
"In tlio carriage, indeed ! What non
sense !" cried Mrs. Chester. "Show us
upstairs at once; Mrs. Woodon, please.
I am nearly jolted to death in that hcr
rid concern."
I
?" interposed Clare, eager
less
a
ries
and
the
I
is
A
silent- a
. The apartment, from which a tall,
lean-jointed youth was at that moment
removing a general chaos of "seed-cars"
of corn, was by no means inviting. A
dropsical featherbed, piled np"on a high
bedstead, and a three-legged wash stand
together with one or two cane-bottomed
chairs, completed the furniture of the
room—a mournful contrast to Mrs.
01
Hyde Chester's elegant suito of apart
ments at home.
But she was very tired, and, withal,
determined to bo pleased, if only out of
contradiction to Clara Champfort.
Clara, full of vague fears, kept the
light burning as long as the slender 'dip'
of tallow would last, and then by the
stormy moonlight, watched the luckless
door, in agony of apprehension.
Nor was her apprehension entirely
the gruy dawn of
groundless; for just
tho coming day was blending with the
darkness that is alwrys most dense at
that hour, tlie latch was softly lifted, and
a figure glided in—the figure of a man.
Clara lay watching, with her breast
til robbing wildly—and at tlie same in
stant Mrs. Ilyde Chester, ctartled by the
creaking of a loose board in the floor ot
the room, wakened.
Her first impulse was to utter a pierc
ing soream; but Clara's hand was
her mouth in all instant—Clara's firm
grasp was holding her down.
The figure glided directly toward the
leather reticule which Mrs. Hyde Ches
ter had taken the precaution to conceal
beneath the hangings of the window,
loosened it noiselessly by means of a
bunch of skeleton keys which ho pro
duced from bis pocket, and abstracted
something, after a moment's noiseless
search, with which be witdrew,
ly a ghost.
Not until his last footstep died away
on the stairs, did Clara take lier guardi.
an hand from Mrs. Chester's mouth.
al
i-i
of
"Clara why did you stop me ! Why
did you not let me give the alarm?
cried M re. Chester, springing from the
bed in dismay and consternation.
"Did you wish to be murdered in your
bed ?"
"Murdered? What mean you ?" Mrs.
Hyde Chester's blood ran cold.
"He carried a long knife. I saw it
shine in the starlight once. Hush !"
Clara was gazing intently from the
window.
"Come here, Mrs. Choster."
Mrs. Hyde Chester crept tremblingly
to her companion's side.
"Look !"
And Clara pointed out a dark figure
stealing across the meadow, in the in
distinct light, toward the woods tliutlsy
beyond.
"He is gone," she said, with strange
calmness, "and
en, we are safe !"
"But my diamonds !"
Mr«. Chester had hurried toward the
open traveling bag which lay upon the
floor beneath the dressing-table, and
her paiuful surmises proved correct—
tho morocco case was gone
«he uttered v low exclamation ol des
pair.
?
of
hut
'
lay
long
sho
com
are safe—thank heav
"Clara, Claru, how can you stand there
so calm ?"
"Because I have reason to be calm.—
Compose yourself Mrs. Chester. The
diamonds are safe under iny ^pillow. *
foresaw this—I read it all, in the dim
foresliadowings of my dfcani—and,
when you were asleep, I unpacked the
jewels from their case, and secured
them. Let the thief goon his way. The
green morocco case, though in itself a
precious treasure to the antiquary, will
hardly recompense him for his waste of
time and manœuvers.'*
Mrs. Hyde Chester clasped Clara to
her heart, with a burst of tears, which
proved an inexpressible relief to her
overcharged feelings.
When daylight once more reddened
over the hills, Mrs. Chester and Miss
Champfort renewed t .eir journey, and
had the gratitication of presenting the
precious parure of diamonds to Miss
Geraldine Raymond two hours bofore
tlie ceremony which transferred the
blooming maiden into a demure little
wife.
"But if it hadn't been for Clara, dear,
rould havo them, safe and
you nev
sound," said Mrs. Hyde Chester. "Mind
I don't believe in dreams, but certainly
that was the most unaccountable ooiu
cidence in the world !"
cidence in the world !"
THE REJECTED SUITOR.
BY PAULINE J. ARDEN.
Agatha Somers sat in the cheerful
morning room, gazing out into the gar
den, while an expression of perplexity
sat upon her brow. Her father entered
the room and sat down near her, and
scanned her face, and u sigh escaped his
lips.
"Wherefore that sigh, *ather ?"
"Agatha, I see the struggle that is go
ing on in your heart, and I would fain
assist you to decide this momentous
question, but I dare not. Philip and
Richard both asked me for your bund in
marriage, and I told them you would
decide the affair us tho one most con
cerned. Do not decide hastily, but ex
amine your heart and discover whose
image is there enshrined. The marriage
relation is the most sifeMd of all earthly
ties,and should not bo entered into until
are convinced that the man of your
choice is all that you desire in a hus
band—your ideal of a true man.
less you have fouud that one, don't be in
a hurry to marry. When a woman mar
ries hastily, without becoming thor
ghly acquainted with lier husband's
character, she is almost invariably dis
appointed. »Study well your own heart,
and the
the mail of your choice is all your soul
requires in a husband; one in whose
honor you have unbounded confi
dence."
Un
01 «
,ts of your nature, and see if
lie arose and left her alone te think.
"I cannot love a man that I cannot re
spect, therefore I must choose a husband
that will command the respect and es
teem of all; a man that would scorn to
stain his character by a mean, low act; a
man that would spunr with the utmost
contempt the idea of doing anything
that would call a blush to an honest
man's cheek; a man whose noble soul
would aspire to only that which is pure,
high-toned and elevating. Oh ! I could
worship such a man next to God ! but,
all, me! the human heart is deceitful
above all things, and the cloak ot hypoc
risy is too often worn to conceal the hid
eousness of moral depravity. How can
I decide—oh, kind father! liow can I
distinguish the real from the sham ?—
Richard Andre is apparently a model
young man, but tho bright side of a
young mail's character looks dazzling
and pleasing enough until the dark side
is displayed to detract from its splendor.
A man that will do right in the blazing
snnlight, and stoop to sully his charac
ter by debasing sins committed behind
the veil of darkness, is not the husband
for me. Philip Tasso" she said slowly,
as though weighing him in the balance,
"is—is—well, if I were to leurn that he is
a villain, my faith in man's honor would
be terribly shattered, if not utterly de
stroyed."
"Letters for you, Miss Agatha," said
he
lay
lier
to
"D?ar, dear Philip, my heart yearns
toward you, and I know that you are a
true man, for surely a countenance so
full of frankness, candor, and truth,
could not screen a base heart. I know
that your uoblo mind aspires to some- '
the maid.
She took tho two envelopes in her
hand and recognized tho chirography of
Richard Andre and Philip Tasso. Her
hand closed caressingly over Philip's
letter, and she pressed it to her heart,
while Richard's she tossed carelessly
aside, telling, more plainly than words,
that Philip was dear to her. «he opened
the envelope carefully, as though she
wes loth to mar it, and with a fluttering
heart, she reud :
"My Dearest Agatha The spirit
of love prompts me to write to-day and
tell you how dear you are to me. I have
studied your character well, and I find
only the pure and beautiful inscribed
thereon. 1 know that you are living a
pure, noble, beautifuf life, and as such
a true woman onlj' will I ever call by
that name, I ask you to become the
dearest one on earth to me—my wife. Do
not. deem me presumptuous in aspiring
to your love, in return for which I oiler
you the life-long devotion of
"PniLip Tasso."
1
thing beyond tbe glitter tUid tinsel o
outside splendor."
She sat gassing demurely at the long
sunbeams that lay across the carpet like
a path of gold, wandering hand in bend
through tbe grand air-castles that her
imagination erected, with Philip Tasso.
At length her eye rested on Richard s
letter, and hastily tealing it open, she
read its contents.
"Oh ! the miscreant! the base hearted
weak-minded fool ! Surely his sins
have found him out, and I see him as he
sham; a miserable excuse for a
is
man !"
As she uttered these words an expres
sion of contempt sat upon her face, but
it gradually faded away and one of com
passion came in its stead.
"llis heart is bad, and I would never
marry such a man; yet his poor soul is
immortal, and from the bottom of my
heart I pity him, poor erring mortal,
and I pray he may forsake his evil
ways."
She w'ent to her room and wrote as fol
lows;
"Dear Philip:—C all this evening at
seven, aud receive your answer.
"Agatha Somers."
When Mr. Somers came home to din
ner she allowed him to read the two let
ters she had received.
"Well, Agatha, I presume this settles
the affair. All of this goes to prove that
an empty barrel makes the most noise.
Richard is one of those who have the
knack of attracting attention by his con
stant flow of small talk, his witty repar
tee; and yet let one of superior intelli
gence attempt to draw him out, and he
would And him shallow-brained, his
theories weak-kneed and ill-jointed; but
so goes the world, and man plods
along, learning some things by experi
ence that ho can learn in no other
school."
school."
Evening came, and at seven Philip
Tasso wns ushered into the parlor where
die of
Agatha met hirn with
welcome, and when «he laid her hand
tenderly, trustingly, in his, and looked
shyly into his questioning, blue e3 T es, n
flood of joyful emotions suffused his
face, and he drew her to Ills heart and
reverently kissed her blushing face. A
short time after Mr. Somers found them
sweet
to
ti
to
or
as
to
Ritting on tho divan, hand in hand, and
he exclaimed :
"Good evening, Philip; receive a fa
ther's blessing, ch ; ldren,and I pray y
may prove helpmates, indeed, tor each
other, for there are, indeed, many
temptations thrown in tlie paths of the
young. But hark ! there goes the bell.
Come, Philip, we are to have private
theatricals this evening, cud we are to
be tho only auditors."
Before Philip could comprehend his
meaning, he had seized his arm, and
drawn him into an alcove.
"Be quiet and watch and listen," said
Mr. Somers, mysteriously.
Richard Andre was announced, and
advanced into the room, while a win
ning smile lighted up his otherwise ex
pressionless face.
Quarter of an hour passed away, and
he arose and sank gracefully upon his
knees at her feet, saying :
"Darling Agatha, idol of my dreams, I
lay at your feet my hand, heart and for
tune. Will you be my own uarling
wife."
A soft, rippling laugh bubbled from
lier lip«, and waving lier hand, she said:
"Arise, Mr. Andre, 1 pronounce your
acting perfect."
"Agatha, idol, angel, don't trifle with
my poor, pleading heart. Can't you
how I suffer—how this suspense is
wringing my heart?"
"I can't say that I do," she replied,
coolly.
"You are cruel, my darling, and yet a
human heart bleeds at your feet. Be
merci lui, and end this susponse, love.—
Will you be mine?"
"Mr. Andre, I cannot accept the gra
cious boon you oiler me—I cannot be
your wife."
"Oil 1 merciful heaven ! Can it be that
the sunlight of bliss is forever hidden
from me?" he exclaimed, tragically.
"Don't lament, deorsir. See, you havo
Ahe moonlight left," she replied, pointing
to an opeu window.
He arose and stood calmly before her,
and looked down into her dark eyes.
"Agatha, I w*as mad enough to hope
that you loved mo, but I'm aroused at
last, and know that henceforth life for
me will be an empty farce; and since I
cunnut win your love, allow me the hap
piness of dying at your feet."
Ho drew a pistol from his pocket,
placed the muzzle over his heart, and
the next instant the report rang out, and
utt' ring a deep nioau he sank upon the
floor.
Philip rushed frantically from the al
cove, closely followed by Mr. Somers.
"Oh, my God ! this is too terrible ! He
is dead! and oh, nierciful Heaven ! you
the cause of it, Agatha," cried Phil
ip, stricken with horror.
"Don't blame me, dear Philip, I could
uot prevent it," she said, demurely,
while a smile lurked in the vicinity of
her mouth.
A group of domestics gathered around
the door, and Mr. Somers knelt beside
Richard, and examined bis pulse.
"Agatha, oh ! Agatha, how can you sit
beside his corpse and smile? Alas! I
was deceived in you, when I thought
you little below the angels."
a "He is not dead !" cried Mr. Somers,
so "Jim, bring hot water—hurry !"
"l didn't know thut hot water was
beneficial in such cases," said Philip—
' great, honest-hearted Philip,
a
"Neither do I* yet I am going to try an
experiment. No matter if it does scald
his moustache otfj it will only bring him
back to life."
Jim brought the wntei, and Richard
moaned, while a sodden trembling aeiz
him. Mr. Somers dashed a little of it
on his face, and the effect was magical,
lie threw up his arms tragically, open
ed his eyes, and the word "ouch !" es
caped bis lips.
*'YV-h-a-t does this mean ?" he asked
feebly.
"I thought I would arouse you. Isn't
it glorious to be an actor
life?" Mr. Somers said, maliciously.
Richard stared at him blankly.
"Oh! don't feign ir nocenc«, young
man. This sene is about played, aud we
will excuse the prime actor.''
The rejected lover arose, Beizod his pis
tol, and left the room, looking rather
cowed.
"Philip, he is not my victim, after
all; and now can yon forgive me for my
shnre in the late scene?"
"I am bewildered. I feel like one in
a dream," he replied.
"Allow me to read this note, and per
haps it will relieve your mind of all ap
prehensions."
She drew Richard's letter from her
pocket and reud :
tlie stage of
"Dear Chumî— I received your let
tor some time ago, aud seize my first op.
portuuity to respond, but as my mind is
wholly occupied with the subject of
matrimony, I can think of nothing else.
"The elite of this little two wheeled,
four by six town think me a model
young man, thanks to the art of decep
tion. I have baited my tnutrimonial
hook to catch a golden fish. She is the
only child of old I)un Somers, and he's
as rich as a fool, and Agatha—well she's
proud aud starchy, aud I think I've
made a good impression
heart.
her soit
'I wouldn't have any doubt in regard
ccoss if Phil Tasso were in the
lie's
to my
bottom of the lied sea—hang him.
ti e coolest hoaded follow I ever knew!
one of tlie saintly fools that arc too proud
to tell a decent lie. He won't even hon
or a saloon with a glance, but turns his
faco away as he paysess one, so as not to
inhale the perfume of the old king alco
hol. But 1 will cbeckmaie him yet, and
as the duns are beginning to come thick
and fast I must bring matters to
Women are soft brained fools, and I am
ike ono to teach thou* a lesson.
"I'll propose this evening, and if she
rejects me I'll commit suicide (with a
paper wad) and fall at her feet. She
will then throw herself upon my defurc 1
body, kiss my pale lips, and inq lore
to come back to life for her, mad of
course I'll come. Isn't it glorious to be
such an able actor on the stage of life ?
"But such things will play out; I've
worn my moral cloak so long that it is
getting threadbare, and if I don't secure
the heiress soon, it won't conceal tlie
dark spots of my character. If old Som
ers gets an inking of my 'ten nights in a
bar room,' it will be 'good by, Joku' with
me.
"Yoti must hold yourself in readiness
to be first groomsman, as I shall call
shortly to act in that capaci
upon y<
tv.
I
"I'll write anon and give you the de
tails of my proposal. Yours truly,
"Richard Andre."
"This letter was addressed to me
through carelessness, and thereby the
true character of the wretch was disclos
ed. Can you now forgive me for smil
ing over his*supposed dead body.
Mr. Somers wisely left them alone,
and Philip seated himseif beside her,
and raised her hand to his lips.
"Dear, brave little woman, can you
pardon my cruel words!"
"I have nothing to pardon, dearest
and truest of men. You stood the test
nobly, and had you exulted over your
faRen rival, my faith in your truth and
worthiness would have been shattered.
I doubt whether I am worthy of your
love, but I will try to be in the future,"
she replied, pulling his moustache mis
chievously.
And that moustache was neither black
brown, or blondj, but red; and Agatha
thiuks it« the loveliest in the world, and
never refuses to have it brought in con
tact with her mouth, for lie is her hus
band now, and the dearest,.kindest,
aud sw eetest man in tlie world.
An Indianapolis pspor relates how a
woman discovered toe secrets of tlie Odd
Fellows, and the consequences that fol
lowed. It says :—Georgo Staats, Janitor
of Odd Fellows' Hall, Indianapolis, hav
ing charge of tho private books and
works of the Order of Odd FeUpws, has
been tried and expelled from that body,
charged with allowing a woman, named
Mrs. Pillbeuu, to witness the initiation
of three
• tubers, by concealii. g her in
an alcove adjoining the ball, designed
for the orgun, and curtained off from the
entrance through the main hall. To
keep the secrets which had came into her
possession, sho demand $500 from the
janitor, which he refused to give, in con
sequence of which she gave the informa
tion w hich led to hi« trial by a commit
tee of Odd Fellow's, and expulsion.
_,_
At Long Branch, Monday, Josephus
Newings was knocked down aud run
-'hilo trying to stop a runaway
over
team, and so badly injuied that he died
in two hours.
"Working for dear life" is define
be making clothe« lor a now' bab
[Written for the He aid.]
A BARBEROTN NKETCH.
Bt JOHN VOSS.
"But since no reason cab confute ye'/
I'll try to /ore« you to your duty."
—Jfudibrasi
In tho vicinity of Third and Chestnut
street«, a locality, yclept tho "Bafbary
Coast," from the fact, perhaps, that 'tirf
there that "shavers" most do congre •
gate, a skilful knight of the razor hold**
his diurnal "lathering'* levees, and with
master hand mows whole acres of hir
sute stubble from the chins of his
marous customers. A day of t vo ngb, Î
dropped [for he abides below the pave,)
in upon "Cœsar Augustus," to place
myself under his expert manipulation#,
and doffing coat and bat, soon had the
polished blade rattling swiftly o'er the
uneven surface of my unshorn cuticle*
Perched upon a chair at my loft band,
a burly specimen of the r/tnus homo wi
having the last artistic touches applied
to a huge and brisli ng moustache, the
original color of which was evidently a
brilliant red, but now itsobon blackness
vied with the raven's wing; and When he
arose from his seat and, by the aid of a
friendly mirror close at band, surveyed
it thoroughly from every standpoint, lie
appeared to be perfectly charmed by tbe
transformation; his self satisfied air Wäa
calculated to cause all those whose locks
wore of the Solferino hue, to cry aloud»
"Dye one ! dye all ! dye nobly !"
"liow much'll yez be afther chargin'
fur thot same?" demanded lie of the
moustache, in that peculiarly classic di
alect which at once betrayed his Grecian
origin.
"Thirty-five cents, sah 1" politely res
pited Civsar.
"Phot's thot yez said ? Thirty-toive
eint«; do yez take me for a bhroker, a
ruillionair, or a dom fuie ! «hure, I niv
er in all my born days paid more nor fif
teen cints befoor—tin cints for the black«
' foive for the shuve—an', begorra.
I'm not goin' to sliwindled by the loikos
you or any ither nagur !"
"Dut am our reuular charge, call—
twenty-five tents for tie opaque applica" ..
shun on de lips, sah, and ten cents for do
removal ob de capillary. All de prüfe»
sors in dis naborhood charge do sniiio,
sah, and Use in honor bound to sustain
to sustain tho rules ob de profoshioii; bo
sitles, no genVnïn ebber dejected to deni
reasonable ter
"Who the divil said I waz aginthle
liion? Hadn't yez betlher wait until I
lay clai
Oneyiiow, all I ax is fur yez till take the
fifteen cints, let me off,
I her standiif there, showin' yer ivories
loiko a chessy cut. Divil a w in av me'll
iver giv yez thirty foive tints fur that
yez kin jist make your mind nisy
î
befo', sab."
till tho doubful distiiicshun ?
' don't be af
j'>b.
upon that score, mi honey."
"l'se perfeckly calm, I is—calm ns it
»turnin' in May. I golly, you'll find,
sab, dut dis chile has do audacity to ad
here to the 'riginal claim—thirty-five
cents—and not a red cent less, sah,
shuah's yer bo'n. Look yeah, Mr.
Wkut's-yer-name! I stun' yer, sah, ou
de eommutable principles ob justice, an'
no airthly power «hill draw yer uncle
from do pcsiah; dut's what's da mat
ter."
ter."
"Howld yer whist, ye dirty, black,
weazened sphalpeen; there's yer fifteen
cints," (throwing that amount upon the
table,) "an', be the power« of Molly Kel
ly, its all ye'll git off mo, onyhow."
With tliatPandeen started for the door
but C'rcsor, equal to the great emergen
cy, quickly followed, and matching tho
jaunty beaver from his brow, bold it
aloft as security for the balance. Then»
with headlong speed, Hibernia rushed
up stairs, cursing the while in Irish most
exquisite, and vowing he'd bring down
the thunders of tho law upon the closely
curled caput of tlie tonsoi iul artist.
Whether it was tlie intense rays of the
mid-day sun playing upon his uncover
ed occiput, or upon a sober second
thought he came to tho just conclusion
tiiat he had, metaphorically, "put his
foot in it," or whether
"Consideration like
And w'hipped tho offending Adam out Of
him."
I'm not prepared to state; but certain it
is that before "Ctesar Augustus" had
ceased sprinkling tbe "popper sauce '
upon my cranium, tbe war-like Greek
returned, promptly planked down the
deficit sum, picked up his hat that was
in "hoe," and leisurely left our presence
saying "uiver a word."
Phila., Pa., Aug. 1, 1871.
angel came,
At Bultiin >r , Fcrdin :nd Wi'son, col*
o-ed,
cUy evening
Johnson, has been arrested on suspicion
of having committed the murder* Pat
rick, alias John Collins,-died on Mon
day aft mo< ft, from being struck on tho
head by a spittoon by Henry Lntigblin,
last Friday, at a beer garden. Lnugblin
is unde* arrest.
as shot dead on the street, Mon- ■
A colored mart, named
A private tetter from an American
resident at Para, Brazil, says that the
yellow fever there has assumed a very
malignant form, and nearly every
s ranger in the city has died. The Kng
' lish consul w as dead and his wiftfwas
dying.
It is better to be laughed at for f.ot
Doing married« than to be unable to
laugh because yon are.
I
AdvertibO in the Herald.