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The organ of the temperance reform. (Cincinnati, O. [Ohio]) 1852-1853, October 29, 1852, Image 1

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VOLUME 1.
VUULlHlliM Xi.HY FRIDAY,
BY CALEB C LARK,
e Franklin Printing House.
TERMS:
"i,....
U"""s, " V
Pintle subscription!.
uiubs or tun ana
f All mibwrijitlon. mint bo aocompanicd with the
conn, and addreaaed, posture mm, to
CALEB CLARK,
BtN FlliKKLlH fniKTIKO lloi HI,
Cincinnati, O.
From the Baltimore Clipper.
YEARS AGO.
TEN
I am sitting at my mirror,
Gazing on an alter'1 brow;
Oil! run it be tliia Is the dice
So bright ten rears ago?
Where are the cheek's warm roses,
Willi the blushing ruby dyes,
Anl Hie mellow lustre gleaming
In the bluo unclouded eyes)
They have fuded I can read It,
Here reflected clear and cold;
And the startling truth broaks on m,
1 mil surely growing old!
Ah! what visions cluster 'ronnd me,
As my glance 1 backward throw.
To the slowing hopes that crown'u mo,
In those dnys, 'ten years ago.'
Time at my heart Is knocking,
As I view the mirror o'er,
And memory Is unlocking
Tho long burled scenes of yoro.
I am thinking of glad voices,
Echoes soft and sweet and low.
Anil how many have grown silent,
Since this time 'ten years ago.'
Unman flowers have sprung around me,
In pure childhood's loving guise;
dome are blooming fair and .lately,
Some transplanted to the skies!
Chnrish'd friends, the best and dearest,
That this life can ever know,
They have left mo, who made sunshine,
'Hound my path, 'tea fears ago!'
I regret not waning beauty,
All too fragile long to luat,
Tl but a slight remembrance,
M!d the radiance of tho past,
For still my faithful mirror,
('an give back a smile I know;
And tho true heart thrills unchanging yet,
As It did 'ten years ago!" MIIA.
THE FALSE HAIB.
Tray remember, Monsieur Lagnier, that
I wish particularly to go out this morning. It
is now past one o'clock and if yon continue
endeavoring to do what is impossible, uiv hair
will never bo dressed. Youhadniuch letter
plait it as usual." '
Adelaide do Vsrenne prouounoed theso
words in a tone of pettishuess very unusual
with her, as giving vent to a long sigh of im
patience and weariness, she glanced hastily
at the mirror on her toilet table, and saw there
reflected the busy fingers of M. Lagnier, the
hairdresser, deliberately unfastening her hair,
and preparing ouco uioro to attempt the ar
rangement, which repeated failures had de
clared to be an impossibility. He looked np,
however, as he did so, aud seemed to read the
expression of her features, for a comic mixture
of astonishment aud dismay immediately
overspread his own.
"Fifteen years," he exclaimed, "I have had
the honor of daily attending mademoiselle,
and she never was angry with me before!
What can I have done to offend her?"
"Oh, nothing vory serious," replied the
young girl, good naturedly; bnt really, 1 wish
'on would not dally o long. It is of very
little consequence,! think, how one's hair is
worn." , . ,
"Why, certainly, evory style is equally be
coming' to mademoiselle," was the old man's
polite reply. "Nevertheless, I had set my
heart upon arranging it to-day according to
the last fashion; it would suit mademoiselle
a ravir." Adelaide laughed.
"Hut you see it is impossible," she laid.
"I have so very little hair, and I am sure it
5s not my fault nor," she added archly "the
fault of all thote infallible pomades and es
sences recommended to me by somebody I
know." M. Laguicr looked embarrassed.
"Mademoiselle is so gay, she finds amuse
ment in everything," he replied. " cannot
laugh upon to scrions a subject." Adelaide
laughed again and more heartily than before,
and M. Lagnier continued, indignantly
"Mademoiselle does not care then for the loss
of her beauty ?" ,
nh 1 did not know there was any Question
of thatl"and the young girl suddenly resumed
an expression of gravity which completely
imposed upon the simple old man, .
. "Von see, mademoiselle," he continued
earnestly, "I have been considering a long
time what is best to be done. It is evident
that my pomades, usually so successful, have
no effect npon your hair; owing, 1 suppose, to
to 1 can t say exactly what it is owing
to. It is very strange. I never knew them to
fail before. Would mademoiselle object to
wearing a slight addition of false hair?" he
' asked axiously, after a moment's pause.
"Indeed, 1 should not like it," was the re
ply. "Besides, Monsieur Lagnier, you havo
often told me that, in all Paris, it was impos
sible to obtain any of the tame shade as
mine."
"Ah, 'but , I have succeeded at last!" ex
claimed he; and as he spoke, he drew tri
umphantly from his pocket a small packet, in
which was carefully enveloped a long lock of
loft golden hair.
:- "How beautiful!" Adelaide involuntarily
exclaimed. "O Monsieur Lagnier, that is far
-Woer and brighter than mine."
, 'the difference is Tery slight Indeed; it
would be imperceptible when both were braid
ed together," returned the hairdresser. "Do,
pray, allow me, mademoiselle, to show you
,lw effectj ' W4 wrthou, waiting for reply,
GIN CI
he commenced the operation.
In ' f"w in"
mentt it wis r "- -
.1 : i should be an dtseapoir
wore i obliged to untaueu it now.
Adelaide hesitated: it was, however, no
conscientious scruple which occasioned her
hesitation. She was a Frenchwoman, a beau
j tv, ana ft nun
VToaddtober
fheriesol thi
euiol sin; it
that mrround
ty, and a little a very little of a coquette.
attractions by the slight super-
the toilet was, she thonght, a very
Was a thing which, iu the society
ded her, was looked upon 09 ne
cessary , and sometimes even considered as a vir
tue, she was a strange girl, a dreamer, an en
thusiast, with a warm heart, and a lively, but
perhaps too easily excited imagination. From
tier iufancy, she had been accustomed to re
flect, to question and reason; but left almost
entirely to her own unguided judgment, the
habit was not in every respect favorable to the
formation of her character. It was, however,
but little injured by it. She was one of those
favored beings whom no prosperity can spoil,
no education entirely mislead, and whose very
faults arise from the overflowings of a good
and generous nature. The thoughts that ag
itated her now were those worthy of her gen
tle heart.
"Monsieur lagnier," she said earnestly,
"such beautiful hair could ouly have belonged
to some young person. She must have been
in great distress to part with it. Do you know
her? Did she sell it to yon? What is her
name? I cannot bear to wear it; 1 shall be
thinking of her continnally."
"Ah, mademoiselle Adelaide, that is so like
yon! Why, I have provided half the yonug
ladies in Pariswith false tresses, and not one
has ever asked me theslightest question as to
how or where they were obtained. Indeed, 1
should not often nave been able to reply. In
this case, however, it is different. 1 bought
it myself, aud consequently can give you a
little information respectiug it. Yesterday
evcuing, 1 was standing at my door m the It up
St. Honore, when a young girl, attracted no
doubt by tha general appearance of my win
dow, stopped to admire the various articles ex
hibited there. Sie hod a pretty face, bat 1
scarcely looked at that; 1 only saw her hair,
her beautiful, rich, golden hair, It wbs push
ed carelessly behind her cars, and half con
cealed beneath a littlo white cop. "Madem
oiselle," 1 said, accosting hr for I could
not hear that aha should DOSS the door "is
there anything that you would like- to buy ? a
nairof combs, for instance. I have some very
cheap; although," I added, with a sigh, as
she appeared about to move on, "such lovely
hair as vonrs reanirea no ornament.. At these
wonlsshe returned quickly, and looking into
my face, exclaimed: "Will you buy my uair,
monsieur?" "Willingly, my child," Ire
plied; and in another instant she was seated
in my shop, and the bright scissors were gleam
ing above her head. Then my heart failed me,
and I felt half inclined to refuse the offer.
"Are you not sorry, child, to part with your
hair?" I asked. "No," sho replied abruptly;
and gathering it all together iu her hand, she
put it iuto mine. The temptation was too
great; besides 1 saw that she, herself was un
willing tlrat we should break the contract.
Her countenance never changed one during
tho whole time, aitd when all was over, sho
stopped, and picking tip a lock which had fall
en to the ground, asked iu an unfaltering
voice: "May I keep this moutieur?" 1 said
yea, and paid her; and then she went away,
smiling, and looking quite happy, pour little
thing. After all, mademoiselle, what is the
use of beauty to girls iu her condition of life?
She is belter without it
"And her name did yon not ask her trainer"
inquired Adelaide reproachfully.
"Why, yes, mademoiselle, I did. She told
me that it was Lucille Delmont, and that she
was by trade a feurisle. It was all the in
formation she would give me." ;
"What could she have wanted with the mon
ey? Perhaps she was starving; there is so
much misery in Paris!" considered Madem
oiselle de Varenne, after a pause.
"She was Tery pale and thin," said the
hairdresser; bnt then so are the generality of
our young citizens. Do not make yourself
uuhappy about it, mademoiselle; I sbatt see
her again, probably, and shall endeavor to
find out every circumstance about her."
With these words, M. Lagnier respectfully
took leave, having by one more eipresaivc
glance testified his delighted approval of the
alteration which had taken place in the young
lady's appearance.
Adelaide, having summoned her maid, con
tinued her toilet iu a listless and absent man
ner. Her thoughts were fixed upon the young
girl whose beauty had been sacrificed for hers,
and an unconquerable desire to learn her fate
took possession of her mind. Her intended
disposal of tht morning seemed quite to be
forgotten; and she was on the point of form
ing new plans, very different from the first,
when the lady to whose care she had been con
fided during the absence of her father from
town, entered the apartment, and aroused her
from her reverie by exclaiming; "Ah, you
naughty girl! 1 have been waiting for yon
this half hour. Was not the carriage ordered
to take ns to the Tuileries?"
"Yes, indeed, it was; bnt I hope you will
excuse me: 1 bad almost forgotten it. Ana
Adelaide immediately related to her mend the
circumstance which had occurred, and beg
ged her aid iu the diaeovery of Lucille. Mad
ame a lieranvuie languea reasoned, out iu
vain; and finding Adelaido resolved, she at
leugth consented to accompany her npon the
search, expressing as she did so her entire
conviction that it would prove nseless and un
satisfactory. The day was spent in visits to tho principal
modhtet'ol Pans; but from nono could any
information be gathered concernsng the young
flower-gi.il. None had even heard the name.
Adelnide was returning home disappointed,
but not discouraged. Still resolved to con
tinue her endeavors she Lad just announced
to Madame d'Heranville her intention of vis
itinir noon the following day the shops of an
inferior class, when the carriage was sudden
ly arrested in ita course by tha crowd of vehi
cles which surrounded it, ind they found
themselves in front of a small warehouse of
tha description she alluded to, She was about
to express a wish to enter, it being still early,
when her attention was attracted by two per
sons who stood conversing near tho door, and
whose voices, slightly raised; were distinctly
audible. Thcv had excited the interest and
curiosity ot bothitheir manner, and by the
y.'.ptcsniun vi tonw ucpicieo, npon ug conn1
NNATIi 0. FllIDAY, OCTOBEll 29,
"?-t Tiare rromtseri will yon not trust mc?"
he said iu a half-reproachful tone; and Ado
lnidc bent eagerly forward to catch a glimpse
ot the young girl to whom the words w ere ad
dressed, but her face was turned' away, and
tho large hood ofawollen clonk was drawn
over head, almost completely concealing her
features.
"I do trust yon," she said in reply to the
young man's words "I do indeed. And now.
good-by, dear Andre; we shall meet again
soon in our own beautiful Normandic.
And she held out her hand, which he took and
held for an instant without speaking.
"May I not conduct you home? he asked
at length.
"No Andre; it is better we should part here.
We must not trust too much to our courage, it
has failed us so often already." And as she
spoke, sho raised her head, and looked up tear
fully at her companion, disclosing as she did
to a face of striking beauty, although worn
and pallid to a pninfnl degree, and appear
ing even more so than it really was, from the
total absence of her hair. The tears sprang
into Adelaide's eyes. In the careworn coun
tenance before her she read a bitter tale. Al
most instinctively, she drew forth her purse,
and leaning over the side of the carriage,
called out, "Lucille 1 Lucille!" lint the
young girl did not hear her ; sho had already
turned, anaywas hastening rapidly away, while
Andre stood gazing after her, as if uncertain
of the reality of w hat had just occurred. He
was so deeply engrossed in his reflections, that
he did not hear his name pronounced repent
cdly by both Adelaido anil her friend. The
latter at length directed the servant to accost
him, and the footman was alighting for that
purpose, when two men turned quickly the
corner of the street, and perceiving Andre,
stopped suddenly, and one of them exclaimed
"Ah, good evening, Bernard, yon are just
tho very lellow we want;" and taking Andre
by the arm, he drew him under the shade of a
porte cochre, and continued, as he placed a
small morocco case in his hand: "Take enre
of this for me, Andro, till 1 return, I shall be
at your lodgingB-in an honr. Giraud and I
are going to the Cite, and as this pocket-book
contains valuables, we arc afraid of losing it.
Am rceotr. .
Andremndc no reply. Ilepiaced the pock
-e4-aok tarUatly-iuhUbBUVftd.Jhifc.titMtininnl JJlaino yowsalf-if Jou.ill-U
friends continued hastily their way. Ha wa,j hint, your dajliug Audre. hat w ill he do,
himself nrenaring to depart, when the foot
man touchc'l hiui geuth on the shoulder, anil
told him of Mademoiselle de Varenne's wish
to speak with him. Andre approached the
carriage, surprised and half abashed at the uu
lookeu for honor; then taking, off his cap,
waited respectfully for one ot the ladies to
address him.
' At the same instant, a police officer seized
hi in ronghly by the arm, and exclaimed:
"Here is one ot them! I sawthem nil three
together not two hours agol" And calling to
a comrade who stood near, he was about to
lead Andre away. At first, the yonng man
made no resistance; bnt his face grew deadly
pale; and his lip trembled violently.
- "What do you want? What have-1 done?
hq demanded at length, tnrniug suddenly
round to faco the accuser; but the latter only
replied by a lailgh, and an assurance that he
would know all about it presently. A slight
struggle ensued, in the midst of which the
pocket-book fell to the ground, and a cousid
erahlonnmber of bank-notes bestrewed the
pavement. At this sight, Andre seemed aud-
acniy to understand tne causeot nis arrest; n
stood for an instant gazing at the notes with a
countenance of horror, then with an almost
gigantic effort, he broke from the grasp which
neiu nun, anu uancu away in ma airecnon
which bad belore been taken by tneyojtnggirl.
He was immediately followed by the police;
but although Adelaide and her friend remain
ed for some time watching eagerly the pursuit,
they wero unable to discover whether he
had succeeded in effecting his escape.
"I am sure I hone so, poor icllowl" mur
mnred Adelaide as they drove homewards
"for Lueille's sak ens. well as for his,
"You have quite made npyour mind, then,
as to its being Lucille that we saw?" said
Madame d Hcranville with a smile. "If it
was," she added, more gravely, "1 think she
can scarcely merit all the trouble yon are giv
ing yourself on her account. Her friendship
for Andre does not speak much in her favor.
"Why not? Surely you do not think he
stole the pocket-book? asked Adelaide, in un
disguised dismay. - .
"Perhaps not;' but his intimacy with those
who did, leads one to suppose that he is not
unaccustomed to such scenes. Yon remem
ber the old proverb: "Dis moi qui in hantet,
jo te dirai qui tu es." 1
"Do you not think we should give infor
mation respecting what we saw? He was ee r
taiuly unconscious of its contents?" asked Ad
elaide again, after a short silence.
"He appeared so, "returned Madame d'He
ranville; -'and I shall write to-morrow to the
police office. . Perhaps our evidence may be
useful to him. .t '
"To-morrow!" thought Adelaide; but she
did not speak her mind aloud. "And to-night
he must endure the agonies of suspense!'
Aud then sire looked earnestly at her com
panion's face, and wondered if, when hers,
like it, was pale and faded, her heart should
also be as cold. A strange, sad feeling crept
over her, and she continued quite silent du
ring the remainder of the drive. Her thoughts
were still busy in the formation of another
plan for the discovery of Lucille when, npon
her arrival at home, she was informed that M.
Lagnier desired anxiously to tee her, having
something to communicate.
"Mademoiselle, I hare not been idle," "4e
exclaimed, immediately upon entering the
apartment. "Here is Lueille's address, and I
have seen her mother. Poor things!" he ad
ded, "they arc indeed in want. Their room
is ou the sixth floor, and one miserable bed
and a broken chair are al! the furniture. For
ornament, there was arose tree, in a flower
pot, upon the window scat, it was withered,
like ite young mistressl" . '
"They are not Parisians?" inquired Ade
laide. '
"No, no, mademoiselle. From what the
mother said, I picked np quite a little romance
concerning them. Tie husband died two
year ago, leaving them a pretty f nn, and
comfortable home in Normandie. Lucille
ii vrv Wnti ml . All the neighbors said so,
and Mrs, Doimont was proud of her child. She
couiu, bqi gear net vv vvvvibv n
W "fcie, jjQJjinj that her beauty
I
. - MAI,. fSliJtl-
that, and tne money they had obtained
by selling the farm, they contrived to manage
very welt during the first year. Lucille made
no complaint, and her mother thonght her
happy. A Parisian paid her attention and
asked her to become his wife. She refused;
hut as he appeared rich, the mother would not
hear of her declining the offer. Sho encour
aged him to visit them as much as possible,
and honed at ltneth to overcome Lueille's
uisnxe toinemnrnage. une evening, nonev
er, as they were all seated together, a young
i l r : l
man entered the room, no had been an old
lover of Lucille'a a neighbor's son, aud an
early playmate. She sprang forward eagerly
to meet him, and the rich pretender left the
place in a ?it of jealous auger, and t'.icy have
not seen Lim since. Then troubles came, one
following another, until at Inst they fell iuto
tho state of destitution in which I found them.
Andre Bernard, w ho had quarrelled with his
parents in order to follow them, could fiud no
work, and everv sou that Lucille gained was
given to him to save him, ns she said, from ru
in or from sin. Last week she sold her hair
to enable him to return home. Sho had made
him promise that be would do so, and to-night
he is to leave Paris."
"It is he, then, whom wo saw arrested!
exclaimed Adelaide: "aud he will not be able
to return home. Oh, let us go to Lucille at
once! Do pray come with me, Madame d'
licranvillel" and turning on her friend, she
pleaded so earnestly, and the large tears stood
bo unpioringiy in ner eyes, mat n was impos
sible to resist, and Madame d'Heranville re
fastened her cloak, and soon afterwards, with
Adelnide and M. Lagnier. found herself as
cending the steep and dilapidated staircase of
lue nouse lunaDiica Dy mo ueiuioms. auu
laidc seated herself upon the highest step, to
await the arrival of her friend, whose agility
in mounting was not quite equal toner own.
As she did so, a loud angry voice was heard,
proceeding from the apartment to which this
staircase Ted. It was followed by a sound of
a young girl weeping, and then a few low, half-
DroKcn sentences w ere uttereu in a voice oi
heart-broken distress.
"Mother, dear mother, were her words, do
not torment me. l ain so ill so wretched, !
wish f were dead.
111! wretched! ungrateful eirll" was the
reply. "And whose fault is it that you arc so?
now uiai jon nave no more 10 give i uoiumg
even mat yon can sen, to supply mm witninc
means of gratifying his extravngnnco. You
will soon see how sincere he is in his affectio.n
and how grateful he feels for all tho sacrifices
that you havo made sacrifices, Lucille, that
yon would not nave made tor me.
"Mother," murmured the poor, girl in a
tone of heart-broken reproach, "1 have given
my beauty for him; bBt lhave given my life
for you." Adelaide listened no more. Shock
ed beyond measure at the misery expressed in
the low, earnest voice of Lucille, sho knocked
at the door of the apartment, and scarcely
w aiting for permission, lifted the latch and
entered hurriedly.
Lucille wns seated at a window, working,
or seeming at least to-do so; for she was bent
over a wreath of artificial flowers, through
which her emaciated fingers passed with a
quick, convulsive motion. It needed not a
very nice observation to discover that the work
progressed slowly. Tho very auxiety with
which she exerted' herself; seemed to impedo
the movements, and the tears which fell occa
sinnallv mum tha leaves obscured her sitrht,
and often completely arrested her hand; she did
not raise her head as Adelaide entered; too
deeply eagrossed in her own sadness, sho had
not heard the opening of the door, or her
mother's exclaimation of surprise, and Mad
emoiscllo deVarcnne was at her side before she
was in ths least conscious of her psesence.
Adelaide touched her gently on the arm.
"What is the matter, Lucille?" she asked.
"Tell me; I will do all I can to help you."
At these words the mother interposed, and
said softly: I am sure.madame, you are very
kind to speak so to her. 1 am afraid you will
find her an ungreatful girl; if you had heard
her words to mo just now to mo her own
mother!" . , , , ', ,
"I did hear them," returned Adelaide.
"She said she had given her life for you.
What did she mean? What did yon mean,
Lucille?" sho asked gently addressing the
young girl, whose face was buried iu her
hands.
"Forgive ma, mother; I was wrong," mur
mured Lucille; "but 1 scarcely know what I
say sometimes. Mademoiselle," she coutiu
ned earnestly, "lam not ungrateful, but if
yon knew how my heart was bound to home,
and how miserable I am here, you wouldjuty
and forgive me, if lam often angry and im
patient. '
"You wcrencver miserable till he came,"
retorted the mother; "and now that he is go
ing, yon will be so no more. It will be a hap
py day for us when he leaves Paris.
At this moment heavy steps were heard as
cending the stairs: then voices raised as if in
angrr, Lucille started up; in an instant her
pate cheek was suffused with the deepest
crimson, her eyes flashed, and her whole
frame trembled violently. Her mother grasp
ed her by the hand, but she freed herself with
a sudden effort, and darting past Madame
d'Heranville and the hairdresser, who had
entered some time before, she ran out upon
the landing. Adelaide followed", and at once
preceived the cause of her emotion. Andre
was rapidly ascending the stairs, hit counte
nance pale, and his w hole demeanour indica
ting the agitation of hit feelings. He was
elosely followed by the police-officer, whose
voice, as he once more grasped his prisoner, ap
palled the terrified Lucille. " Yon have giv-
.... .Lmtmn ' ' ti a avrtl a imm. "And nn.i
I thought vou had got off. You should not
have left yon hiding-place till dark, young
gentleman." And, heedless of the frantic aud
agonised geaturn of the unhappy youth, he
drew him angrily away.
Lncillcsnrang forward, and taking Andre's
hand in hers, looked long and earnestly in his
lace, lie reaa in ner eyet me question sue
did not dare to ask, and replied, as a crimson
blush mounted to his forehead: "I am ac
cused of robcrry, Lucille, and many circum
stance are against me.- I may perhaps be
condemned.1 1 came her to tell yon. of my
IHUWvHV-,,UU W IVIHIN JUL u Mv
placed gold piece in her hand.' It was the
money the had given him foe hit journey
the fruit v thoWt ta.crif.ica ike bad. wads,
1852.
Sho
i scarcely seemed to nndewtftnd his words,
Utill lawlwl-ay qirii;ly. "LneilW,"
1 aoiiliini
1 l.a -ii... t '. .,,... I .,l...a ... I.lii.... n,A In Tin u,n
1 1 eaanot go home as 1 promised; but you will
not think me guilty. How could 1 do what I
know would break your heart?"
"She smiled tenderly and trustfully upon
him; them letting fall hit hand, she pushed
him geutly away, and whispered: "Oo with
him, Andre. Justice will be done, lam no
longer afraid. Madame d'Heranville and
Adelaide at this moment approached, and
eagerly related what they had seen, both ex
pressing their conviction of the young man's
innocence.
"ft is not to me you must speak, ladies,"
rctnrncd the gendarme, wonderfully softened
by their words. "If you will be to good as
to give mo yonr names, and come to-morrow
to our office, 1 hove no doubt that your evi
dence will greatly influence the magistrate in
favor of the prisoner." The ladies gave their
names, and promised to attend tne court the
following morning; and shortly afterwards
trey leitiue nouse, naving oytueir Kind prom
ises reassured the weepiug girl, and succeed
ed in softcuiug her mother's anger towards
her.
Tho next day they proceeded early to court.
As Adelaide entered, she looked round for
Lucille, and perceived her standing near the
dock, her earnest eyes fixed upon the prison,
er, and encouragiug him with a look of recog
nition and a smile. But notwithstanding all
her efforts, the smile was a tad cue : for hor
heart was heavy, and the appearauce of the
magistrate was not calculated to strengthen
her hope. Andre had declared his innocence
his complete ignorance of the contents of the
pocket-book his friend had placed in his hand;
hut his very intimacy with such men operated
strongly against hiin. Both Giraud and his
companion were well know n to the police as
men of bad character, and very disreputable
associates. The prisoner's declaration, there
fore, had but little effect upon those to whom
ii wus auuiesseu; aim iuu maisiraie snooauis
head doubtfully as he listened.
Madame d'Heranvillo and' Adelaide then
related what they hail sceu describing the
young man s listless loot as ho received the
book, and endeavoring to prove that had
Andre been awareoi nsconteuta. bis compan
ion need scarcely have made the excuse he did
for leaving him. At this moment, a slight
movement was'observed anion; the crowd, and
two men wero brought forward, and placed
baaidftAndra. At their armearance, a tcream
escaped from Lucille, end, turning to her
mptner, she pointed them out, while the name
of Jules Girand burst from her lips. Hearing
his own name, one of the men looked np, and
glanced towards the spot where the young girl
stood. His eyes met hers, and a flush over
spread his features; then, after a momentary
strnttrle, which depicted itself in the work
ings oi ins counteuanco, tic exclaimed: Jct
the boy go, we have iniurcd him enoutrh al-
" What do von mean?" innnircil the main's.
frate: while a look of heartfelt gratitude from
Lucille ruged Giraud to proceed.-
"Andre knows nothing of this robbery." he
continued; his sole connection with us arises
from a promise we gave him, to find him em
ployment in Paris; andnlLthe money ho re
ceived wo took from him under the pretence
of doiug so. Yesterday morning, we met him
for the purpose of again deceiving him, but
failed. He had a louis-d'or; but it had been
given him by his fiancee, th&t he might return
homo, aud ho n as determined to fulfill his
promise. I would have taken his last sou;
for he" and the destiuedorrai ground his
teeth "for he owed me a debt! However,"
ho coutinued recklessly, "it is all over now.
faiu off for the galleys, that's clear enough:
and before starting, 1 would do something for
.Lucille. i
How has the accused injured you?" asked
the magistrate.
Giraud hesitated; but Madame Delmont
came forward, and exclaimed: "I will tell
you, monsienr. He wished to many my
daughter himself, and 1, she added, in a
tone of deep self-reproach, "would almost
have forced her to consent.
The same evening, Madame Delmont. An
dre, and Lucille were seated together, conver
sing upon what had passed, and deliberating
upou the best means of accomplishing an im
mediate return to iNunnaumo, when a gentle
tap was heard at the door, and the old hair
dresser entered the room. He appeared em-
Darrassen; out at leiigm, wun a great enon
restraining his emotion, he placed a litjie
arkct in leucine s naud, and exclaimed:
Here. child. 1 did not give yon half enough
lor that beautitul hair ot yours, lake this,
and be sure you say nothing about it to any
one, especially to Mademoiselle Adelaide; '
and without waiting tor one word ot thanks,
he was about to hurry away, when he was
stopped by Mademoiselle de V arenne in per
son .
"Ah, Monsienr Lagnier," she exclaimed
merrily, "this is not lair. I hoped to have
been first; and y et I am glad that you forestall
ed me," sho added, as she looked into the
bright glistening eyes of the old hairdresser.
"My father has inst arrived in town, Lucil
le, she continued, after a short pause, audi
he is interested in you all. lie oilers Andre
the porter's lodge at the chateau, and I came
here immediately to tell you the good news.
It is not very far from your old home, and I
am sure you will like it. Do not forget to
take with yon this poor rose-tree; it looks like
you, quite pale for want of air. Thercl you
must not thai'k me." she continued: as Mad
ame Delmont, Andre, aud Lucille pressed
eagerly forward to express their graitnde:
"it is I. rather, that should thank you. J never
knew till now, how very happy ,1 might
ne.
And as Adelaide de Varenne nrononnced
these words, a bright smile patted across her
face. The old hairdresser gazed admiringly
npon her, and doubted for a moment whether
the extraordinary loveliness he taw owed any
part of ita charm to the lock of false hair.
D The Board of Aldermen of New York
have granted a donation of $1,000 to the La
j;. ii. x;;.... cIt .:j tv
um iiuuig iuicmnii uia.i,j , w aiu llimn
iu paying tor tne old brewery on tha f ive
Points, which was purchased about five or six
months ago at public auction. -
The editor of the Home Journal ascended
Trinity Church steeple to take what Mrs.
Harris would terra a view of the "outsouirta,"
In speaking of the omnibntset, he snyi they
looked like "double headed torteise with
white Backi,"' x nofel idea, aud ungnjarly
v-.vrvM ; . i; j .. ; . J . ' r . 1 CI
NUMBER 41.
1SZ TRUE USE OF RICHI9, '"" ' .
' ' TH. H. KOAH. ,
Tn an old newspaper file we find one of tho
off-hand, hoppy efforts, of the late M. M.
Noah, than whom few writers of our country,
have thrown more of the best impulse of the
heart, more of kiudly and ben ev dent feeling
into their compositions. Whcu he would
cast off the politician and interest himself
with domestic scenes, the affairs of the fire
aide, social life the welfare and happiness
r of hit fellow men, hit essays had much of the
charm about them that in latter years bass
made those ef Mr. Dickeus so universally
popular. The fallowing, though written some
years since, is not inapplicable to the present
time. lid. Union.
W hy am I not a rich man? snid a very in
telligent person to ns, while looking at a
splendid equipage which rattled down Broad
wav. -
ft was tho equipage of a man of wealth
man of yesterday : partenue in the most
fashionable phrase who made a fortune sud
denly, by buying farms and selling them out
iu lots, and who was determined by his house,
the magnificence of his entertainments, and
richness and variety of his liveries, his loud
talk and consequential air, to show that he
did not belong to the quiet families of some
hundred years distinction and wealth, who
never offeud by ostentation, nor exhibit a
heraldry to which they are not entitled. We
gazed at several of similar growth the riches
which sprnng up over night, like Jonah's
gourd; some by speculation, others by accea
siou, some by fortunate marriages, and some
creditably by a mechanical lutor and inge
nuity. - - -
W hy am not a rich man? said my friend.
I must purchase somewhere in the west, or in
the moon no matter w here; I most plunge iu
the current of speculation, and swim ou to "
fortune and emineucc must be rich; every
body tries to be rich why shall I not be rich?
I am liberal iu my disposition, hospitable and
free. 1 should like to have such a coach and
pair a house of corresponding magnificence.
I should like to throw it open several times a
year for the gay and faabioaablo throng; I
should like you to dine with me twice a week,
and pnnish a few of old, very old Materia.
W by am 1 not a rich man? I deserve to be, -said
he musing, aud at intervals dropping his .
voice, as he slowly withdrew hit eyes from, tha
long cavalcade of coaches and phaetons,, and
whiskered footmen, ' ,.l: L.l-.
Hundreds, no doubt, thought as he did: huhv
dreds expressed the same feelings, and felt the
same desires, and all nnder tht same delusion
that money is wealth that sheer palpable gold
and silver constitute riches; and that it is un
der tli is delusion that thousauds of our citi
zens are racking their brains by pight,
thoughts by day, toiling and sweating, and
managing, and twisting, aud turning out of
the common, settled, and regular order of
things to get gnild aud silver, under tho im
pression that with their possessions, thev will
be rich. . ' . .
Statesmen, politicians, nty, the government
itself, is inoculated with the same mania, and
if all should suececd, we should be compelled
to blacken our own boots and wait upou our
selvct at table. The decision, however, con
sists in this, in considering a piece of gold the
only representative of wealth. Wo are for
the'most part rich, without exactly knowing
it. The anvil of the blacksmith is, to him,
with his handicraft, a valuable, mighty lump
of gold ; he lives by it, and to his mind,
habits aud wishes, he'lives as well as he who
pays out' his eagles aud half eaglet in tho
market so with the painter so with the pro
fessional man, the sculptor, the musician, the
man of taleuts ; all who possess the means of
acquiring wealth, are actually wealthy : for,
if temperate and industrious, all these facul
ties are convertible into wealth ; nay, are
more valuable and durable, and available,
than the mere man of gold and silver. Let
such a man swim to the shore from his ship
wrecked vessel with the mechanic and man of
mind, and see who can succeed in earning that
morsel of bread necessary to sustain life.
What docs the man of princely income do,
which gives to him so many advantages, and
opens the door to such mooted happiness'l
He rises late, turns day into night, dandled
his time away iu trifling employment ; drives
his horses aud conches; gives grand dinners
for ostentation, and large parties for fashion ;
and is at best, a poor, discontented, dyspeptic,
patrician, respected only for his gold aud sil
ver, and of no possible use to the community.
Take the man of moderate means, and he
employs his life as life ought to be employed
a mixture of employment and recreation,
of rational pleasure and discreet hospitality.
Go down to what is called the poorer classes,
which we call the substantially rich the har
dy mechanic, aud see how he enjoys life. Ri
sing with the sun, his labors do net cease un
til the sun sinks iuto the west. Ho returns
to his little family and tenement at night, and
finds an ample board spread by a frugal wife;
the smoking steak, the good cup of cotfee, ths
white bread and butter, and au apputite sharp
ened by labor. His repast is over; ho takes
his chubby boy npon his knee, pinches hit
dirty, rosy checks, and' runs his fingers
through his matted hair; talks with his wifo
npon household affair; reads his paper, or
converses with his ucighhor on the best means
of serving the coinmonwcalh; and when tho
hour of rest arrives, he stretches himself upon
his hard but healthy bed, and soon his senses
are steeped iuto forgetf illness, and his sleep hi
sweet aud sound until the thrill clarion of tho
cock awakens him ou the morrow to renew
his labor. But he hat no coach hat he not?
He has only to go into the street and to hold
up his finger, and splendid omuibut and
four elegaut horses drives opto the sidewalk,
and ha jumps in; it it hit coach while he oc
cupies it, and he leaves it when and whers
he pleases. , . . :
, Can the man of gold or tilvor do morot it
is all au error, a misconception, a delusion.
We are all rich when we possess within our
selves the meant of acquiring wealth. We
have no poor except the idler and the drunk
ard, . . . v
" Eating House Slr!&e.i& conseqnence of
tlie high price of mcata, the reopectabla shears
dining saloons in New York have been com
pelled to raise the price! from tiipence to
.ttiaepenc per plate, i .-i j
Dan. Rice, the inimitable, has purchased
the St. Lonit Mnsenm. collection mi cariosi
ties, which were taken on board bit boat, tho
Zaehary Taylor, and aro td ha conveyed to
New Orleant, whert museum will probably
ka A mtl is Kail . -i ,
! !
J.
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