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412 it;-.. Pi) WW VOL.1. NFWTOWN, CONN., JUNE 28, 1877. NO. 1, . A. UESSKL 1'iiblUhemnd Proprietor. ) Sulwcrlullon Price, $1.00 A Year. OHM T. PKAltl'E, EdIUr ad JkMpr. ( 5- I.4 ! it h published rmmf imuiudat, T NEWTOWN, FAIRREtO CdUNTY, CONN. t.M. JJrntel, i'uo'r aud thvp'r. ,T.fMaree, ' - tailor a-.a .van'r. ibscrlpiiun Price, $1.00 A Year. ADVERTISING RATES, lwk. Iwki. lrso, Sraus. Smoe, I year ,ch. .75 1.25 4 00 0 00 lD.fKI ,ich. 125 Sit M 7.01 12 00 10.14 uch, 1.75 10 tN S.iiO 151)0 WK 'IM 100 . 0 4 40 12 0.) 18.14) 29.00 Col 3.00 4.50 tOO MOO 22.U0 SVMI Col 5 00 8I 12.00 20 00 Ju.00 60.011 fpeclal Notices, Ten Cents per Una Srst, and Ive Cent for each subsequent Insertion. Tiaoaieal advertl.iDg payable In advance. No td-beat advertl.log taken. Yearly adrerllse nta parable at the end of each quarter. Pro eaional and Business Carda ito occupy net more nn five lluesj $J.i4 a year, llegular yearly ad- ortlsera, whose bill, amount to $10 or over, will jcelve the p per free. I PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS. KBWTOWS. POST-OFFICE. Malls arrive: From New York, 11. SO a. v. and . m. From the North, 1.80 r. u, "lulls close: Holng North, 10 4 A. m. and 5 r. Goinar bouth. at 1 aud 7 P. if. T.8. PKCK.P.M. CHURCHE-J. ' Consbeoatiokai. Ma n Street, Rev. James P. Hoyt. paatur. Beivices 10.-10 a. it. ttuiid&y School 11,45 a. af Afternoon servlo ta, I p.m. Catholio: Maiu Street. Mev. Father McOartnn .Mnr. Services, 10.15 a. at. buuday Kcnool, 12 30 P. M. Episcopal. Main Street, Rev. N. E. Marlle. pa-tor. . Service. 10 301. u. service in the alter, joon. ' SOCIETIES. Gbabitb Lodox Independent Okdeb op Good Tkmplaus: meet in hall over H. L. Wheeler'. Furniture W areroom every rricLiy evening. Offi cers, t. V. Blackmail. W. 0 T, Mra W. W. Per ltii.a. W V. T. Ch.ietian Beabler. W. 8 . Mrs. E. '.. Dennett. W.F. .. Mrs. H. L. Wheeler, W. Wm. B.Terrill, W. M , Misa N. A. Jndson, , I. G . Miss Ellas. Peck, W. O. 6, John F. Bu, P. . T. ' pba Juveniijr Tehple No 1 . meet in Lodge I over ru nuure More, every sundav utter. at 4 30 o'clock. 11 IBs ilia Peck, 8upt. F W ana, w v l- Oltve Branch Jcvkmi,b Temple ho 14. Pnb- - jlc lneerino every Sunday atternou at 6 o clock. "ouin senile m-iiwi uoure, omcfiK Airs s n SANDY HOOK. CHCRtHES. f iODiPT.Kev .fames Taylor, pastor. Ser. ,0.30 a. H. asd 7.30 p. h. Sunday school . . u. Prayer meeting Thursday evenings, iwopat..- Rev. Mr. Burnett, vaster. Ser- vi&ja 1 p.m. Sunday ncnnoi 12 at. SOCIETIES.' Hiham LnDOK. Nn 18. F. A. M. Meet In Ma. o Ic Hall. 1st and 3d Wednesdays of each month. rinn-e: Wm. I Sundford. W. M.. John fa- rtf.iro, fr. W- Siimer Crofnt. Jr. W.. James A. Wilson Sec't. H. I.. Wheeler, Tress nd Chapn., m. Acblev. Sr. Pea., Chester Hard, Steward, A. W. Orgelmann, Titer. s t Botal Auch Chapter. Meet Second Tr-urpdKy nieach month, in Mi'aonic Hall. Om-ers; oen. WofTnden. H. P.. H. h. Wheeler, K.. James M Dla"liman, Sctibe., Wm. I. Saoforrl, C of H., Jas A. Wilson, P. 8., O. A Hough, B. A. U. PROFESSIONAL CARDS. WM. C.WILEM. b.. Physician 8nr- A (Af V M a I UlMICr aa4aau1 4wa 4tia Man. (re of the Town, new'y fyrnifhed tbrougbout. All - tfi( dpm improvomenw. Kvtrythinp done to aoa to the happmess and comfort of gneatn. Free carria -e to all trains. Charges moderate. Ac commodations uufurparwed. loiiotJR Fairchild, Prop'r. THE WELCOME RAIN- The thlraty earth is drinking in The Heaven-refreshing rain. tr.--: That falls all day in gentle showers Upon the wide-spread plain; "While Nature Wnllng 'neath the drought Of feverish summer days, Absoibs the rain-drops as tbey fall. In Natu; e'a varied ways. The grass that on the upland fields, . Lay brown and sere and dry, . Drinks for the tender shoota beneath, A full and rich supply: The droopinii fiowrets lift their beada , In tbankfulnraate One .'. Who aendeth rain alike on all, Wbate'er the wrong they've done. The brook that long since dried away, " Iieavinv an empty bed, , Replenished now, runs laughing on, Blessing the Hand that fed; Till downward o'er the rocky sleep It hastens to be free, -i And joininff others in its course, Holla onward to toe sea. The gentle rain the welcoma vrain ' ' Who will not blesa the Hand . i That pours unsparing, so much wealth, ' '' Upon the thirsty land? '! . Who will not una thankful heart, i As soft on hill and plain, . - 'flo gentie flla the Bnmmer showers i The blessed, blessed rainl ' One of i lie gratifying restiliB of the hard times seems to be that a. man can mraar ahirt fur tan rlnvn without heme accused of Iieing a prominent lec orer or -V ... . , . J s person wiun a tenaencj towaxu ejjini- tMUsm. Lovo or Pride ? CHArTKR L. Great purple lmc!w swept scrnM the liny-tit Ida, the dUbint lanilrM was le- eonilng indldit.'Ct, and Hie moon was lowly fining In, the lionvens. Afti-r a while the twllijjlit deepened In- to hs much of ilarkness as tin re would be In the Siimnier night, and illunce full upon the earth. Then s girl sbilr nolae louly across a mull gorden, and stood liekble a gitte thai led Into the adjoining churchyard. A yew-tree spread IU dnrk brancht'S iilnive her, but the silver tint" that were slanting down upon the tall gravestones, and bringing out tbe dtli cale lines of the old church spire, touch ed also her white face, making it whiter Hum usual. She did not start a a fall figure approached from the farther side of the churchyard. She had evidently been expecting some one, and when she heard the words: ''You ore out late, Miss Jervis," she quietly answered : " I was waiting for you : I wanted to my good by to you before you went away.' 'I thought you had done that al ready," replied the young man with some bitterness. " Not quite," returned the young girl, wearily. " You were too angry for me to say it as I wished " Had I not a rijjht to be sot -he asked. " Ever since I have lieen nt Sbel- ford you have been deceiving me. 1 lielieved you to be as earnest as I was myself, and now" He paused. " And now f" Her voice hud a sharp ring In it as she repented bis words, as though she would give denini to wlmt be bud wild, but ber face looked like stone in the moonlight, white and immovable, as she continue') : "I did not understand that you could really be in earnest, otherwise I might have told you betore what I lmve told you to diiy."' ,. ' . -Vyauid aot lh'UovEUuna.Tjod JojiKi. ed upon me as heaitless as a deceiver. You do not believe in me now," "1 do." ' "What do you believef" he asked, im- peluously- "Nothing good, or you would out give me the answer you have given me. 'Everything good, except the knowing what is good tor yourself. I want you now to 8:iy good by to me without any anger iu your heart. The day will come when jou will perhaps bless Die for wb-it I have have had courage to do to day. And she held out her hand. The young man hesitated. 'Is there no hope?" 'Nouet" . Her voice rang low and clear through the Summer air. Agaiu he hesitated, then suddenly taking both of her hands in his, he bent down and kissed her for the first lime. , Bhe gavo a faint cry, aud disengaged herself. . -. "We part io" peace." i And with these words she turned aod fled, not looking back, or perhaps she might have repented her decision. Once in the house; she sat down in the Keiuply sitiiiig'room, made light as day by I the moon beams. Tbe old dog rose as she came in, and when she threw herself in to a chair be laid bis head in her lap. ' There ouiie a sound of cluttering dishes in the kitdhen-on the opposite side of tbo uurrow passage, and her mother's voice sounded sharply, giving the directions about supper. Preseully fbe entered. 'Where have you been, Ally? How ill you look! aud you'ie all shivering. Come into the kitchen, child; Aune's gone off to bed, at-d there's a tire in the grate. It might be Winter instead of midsummer, to feel your hand. Alice rose mechanically. She walked dreamily into tbe little kitchen, where her mother drew a chair to the fire for her. ' ' ...... Presently S ruddy .good-humored look ing youth entered, saying: "Let me have my supper here, mother, the tire looks pleasant though it is Sum mer time." ?; Mrs. Jervis opened the oven door and took out a covered dish that had been kept warm tbere. Alice, watching her as she placed it on the table, and laid a knife and fork beside it, instinctively roused herself, and, taking a jug from tbe dres ser went to tbe cellar to draw some beer for her brother. ll m a relief to her lo perform this menial service; it seemed almost sn an swer to the question she had been asking herself over and over again, since ber conversation with Mr. Bcrnpe In the morning. Rlis was even glad that all around Iter looked so commonplace, so poor poorer and commoner than ever lo nlithL And s bitter feeling rose In her heart and made her almost Indignant that some people should be so muc!j more favored, Id worldly point of view, than others. When she went to her own room, In stead of undressing, she opened the win dow snd gazed out toward the yew tree under which she had parted with Mr. Scrope, and then suldenly utiiwiaiing ber longhair she turned to the looking- glass, not with any .feeling pf vanity, but in order to find what had so attract ed hi in. It was more than a handsome face that answered back ber gaze, one which showed an amount of earnestness and intelligence not often met .with. Of this she was no judge herself, neither of the continual change of expression which Mr. Scrope had begun by cuiiously ob serving, and ended by being thoroughly interested iu. He was passing the Long Vacation at Shelford. reading and fishing and had made the arquaibtance of Wil liam Jervis on the banks of the river, and through him, whom it was condes cension on tbe part of Mr. Sciope lo notice, of Alice herself. f Alice perhaps understood tbe footing on which they stood better than her brother, and the Innate pride In her na lure caused her to accept it with reserva lions. 8he felt the gulf between them and measured it by the world's standard. Therefore, when Mr. Bcrnpe made his somewhat startling offer, she, in spite of her surprise, was not unprepared with her nnswer. e And now that she had given it, she asked herself if she had done right . MK 8crope was an only son; a brilliant jtiiture.was,beforeJiim:. world of which she knew nothine was familiar to him Could she, who was accustomed to the littlenesses incident to 'circumstances somewhat above actual poverty, . move wiih propriety in circles accustomed to every luxury! Would his lelatives so far above hers accept her and her be longings! She answered. "No" Mr. Scrope had argued, what matter since it rested with hitn to give her place and position in the woild as his wife! But that she knew would be a separation for vhimfrom all former associations, and her own unfitness to move in her lover's sphere would make her a clog upon the life of him to whom, before Bhe knew it, she had given her heart. Such had lieen the train of argument she had pursued, and bad struggled free from the prospect open to her, not with out pain, and had dismissed it as a dream of beauty that had nought to do with waklug hours.- And now But it was over. The morning rose, and she went about ber tasks as usual, perhaps even more energetically, since she needed an outlet for ber pent-up feelings. Mingled with pain there came a sense of happiness in the knowledge of Mr Scrope's love. To have possessed it nay. perhaps to possess it still carried her into another world, in which, bow- ever, she must always be alone, since all that had passed must forever remain her own especial secret. , ' CHAPTEIl II. f $ Mr. Scrope went abroad, and after a time he returned home to begin bis career. - - - - -. 'i J. , Alice Jervis pursued her 1 homely and monotonous life. She grew quieb r and graver, and worked more diligently. She believed that she bad decided rightly as regarded Mr. Scrope's happiness, and tbe sacrifice she bad made lor his sake made her feel that she had a rifeht to be interested in him, and she lived In ex citenient of seeing bis name in the papers and in gaining every particular of htm within h-T grasp. Sbe smiled when sbe read bis name among the presentation at court, or noted bis presence at tbe court balls. At such times sue , looked down at tbe shabby dress and poor appoint men's surrouuding her, and wondered what sort of an appearance she should have made in other circumstances. At length bhe saw' another announce menu Mr. Scrope was going lo be tour ried. ;he turned pale, snd put down tbe paper. And yet she had expected Ibis an nouncement bad looked for It day after day, NuverlheKts she felt a strange pang, which a long as he wu uumurried he had etcaped. Down by the river, where tbe water- flags hoisted their yellow standards among the reeds, and where the forget me non blossomed along the banks, she sauntered, listened to the murmuring waters, whose burden was, "Past, past, past I" Even Rover appeared to under stand it, for he looked up mournfully in to ber face and whined. Then great gray bars of cloud spread acrots the selling sun, and blotted out the sunlight; but still Alice paced up and down under the pollard-willows, until tbe evening was , far advanced. Night was setting In around her; tbe light and life were over. She had scarcely r al ized until the present moment how pre sent Mr. Scrope had been in ber every thought. The morning after reading the news In the papers, another very startling piece of information came to her. Sbe was an heiress, By one of those strange chances in life that are so common now a- days, her mother's brother, beginning life as an artisan, had amassed a princely fortune. And be bad left ft between Alice Jervis and her brother. And Alice Jervis sat down and wept. To her it had come as a mockery. Her lot in life wgj cast, what did sbe want witb money now! In due time she read of the marriage itself; sbe cut it out of tbe paper and placed it iu ber pocket book. It was all over. . CHAPTER III, Three years slipped sway. Three travelers entered a hotel in a little fore ign town. One, a beautiful woman, a little past her first youth, whom one knew in a moment, in spite of tbe im provement that had taken place, but ber brother was scarcely to be recognized, A tutor artid ttweo wars' of foreign .life had caused a marvelous transformation. The third, an elderly lady, was not much altered, excepting ber dress was hand some as heart could desire. They took their places at thefcrMe d hole and exactly opposite to them sat a lady and gentleman. The latter looked wear ied, and bis short black mustache twitch ed with the curvings of the restless moulb beneath it. Tbe lady was fair, fashionable, and vivacious. Alice Jervis started. She would have moved, but William Jervis, all ignorant of past events, bad exclaimed "Mr. Scrope!'' Mr. Scrope looked across, wondering at the friendly recognition from an ap parent stranger. Then bis eye fell upon Alice.and he started but quickly recover ing himself, he bowed, saying "Pardon me, I did not at first remem ber you." Mrs. Schope had turned in delight to ward William Jervis "The first English voice, excepting my husband's, that 1 have beard for three weeks. I do not understand Italian, and have const quently had no one to talk to but Mr. Scrope.- Can you imagine any thing more dreadful?" Tbeu turuing to ber husband, she said: "You must introduce me to your Eng lish friends.'' "Mrs. Scrope Mrs and Miss Jervis." said Mr. Scrope, his look riveted on Alice. The face that had never left his mem ory in spite of bis marriage, bad grown to a higher beauty tbun even be bad imagined to be possible. And though be knew it not.it bad come about through ber stiiving after an ideal that she deem ed worthy of him. Stilling the pulses that throbbed so painfully, Alice conversed with him as with an old acquaintance, and yet the remembrance of their parting on that moonlight night was vividly present to both of them. Mrs. Scrooe talked incessantly, the more especially as William Jervis was lively talker, with a trank, half-jesting, hall deferential manner that had some thing very winning in it. Alice Jervis walciied Mrs. Scrope nar rowly, and wondered why Mr. Scrope bad iimnied ber? And instinctively me answer came: Because he did not care very much about ber, but found that tbe alliance would add lustre to bis career. There was something parudokivul lu the Ides, but It passed Willi her. She had argued that," If Mr. Sctope bud really cared for herself, to care much for Mm. Scrope was impossible. ( So they met, aud so they parted iu the little out-of-the-way Italian town; aud Alice had seen Mr, Scrope once mure. Was she glad or sorry? 'The tit-ropes relumed to England; the Jer vines remained abroad. And tbey heard nothing moru of one nnother. CHAPTKH IV. t Exactly why she had come there she could not tell. It was more to gratify an old longing than for any definite rea son, though she had persuaded heiself Into the belief that she bad business at Shtllord. At any rate, upon the anni versary of thai day, eight years ago, when she bail waited undirtbc)ew tn e to say good by to Mr. Scrope, Alice Jer vis stood wiih ber band on the wicket gate, quietly reviewing her life, and once again asking herself whether love or pride had had tbe greater part in ber de cision. Tbe branches of the yews were waving gently, tbe roses were rustling their silver-tipped leaves, aud the while moon-. light ftll upon tbe graves. Still witb ber bund upon the garden gate, she looked toward the church, trying to believe that tbe years bad stood still, and she was there wailing for Mr. Scrope. She was turning away, when a dark figure approached ber, aud a well remem bered voice said: "Miss Jirvis!" "Mr. Scrope!" "Yes; 1 was waiting for you. I wished to see you before you went away." Almost ber owu words in their last In terview. . . She looked up at him half fearfully. It was so strange to see bim tbere at that hour of nigut, aud on almost super stitious awe cr.-pt over her. 'I wanted to tell you that you have ruined my life so fur. I heard Unit you were at Shelford. I knew that you wouhl.be here to-night; and I have come to ask you it you repent me past, ate willing to atone for il." Alice shrank back. "Mr. Scropel" was all she could say. "Tbe inferiority, if there be any, is on my side,"be said;"you have improved 1 lie past I bave wasted it. Yet the wasting of it I lay to your charge. I knew you better than you knew yourself. I wauled a wife who would understand me, and would give me sympathy. You could have done this, aud you refused it. Will you refuse it now!" Bewildered, and yet indignant, Alice shrank further away from him. "Mr. 8crope," she said, "I bid you go to your wife. I bid you to repair the brilliant prospects you seem so wrongly to have marred.,, "I wish 1 could," he answered sorrow fully. "My wife is dead, Alice, or I should not be here to-night. She died two years ago. You are b ud and unjust, as you have ever been." Dead 1 sum mered Alice; " bow could 1 kuow 1 I have but just returned to England- " She moved nearer to him ; she held out ber hand. "Forgive me," she said. ' Aud their eyes met;y and Mr. Scrope looking down into hers, stooped and kissed the quivering lips lor the secoud time in his life. Wife, Mistress And "Lady." Who marries for love, takes a wife; who mar ries for fortune, takes a mistress; who marries for position, takes a lady. You are loved by your wife.regaided by your mistress, aud tolerated by your lady. You bave a wife tor yourself, a mistress for your bouse and lriends, a lady lor the world and society. Your wile will agree witb you, your misuess will rule you, your lady mauageyou. Your wife will take care of your household, your mistress of your bouse, your.lauy of appearance. If you ate nick, your wile will uurse you, your mistress will visit you, your lady will inquire alter your health. You lake a walk wiih your wife a ride with your mistress, and go lo a party with your lady. Your wile will snare your grief, your mistress your money, your lady your debts. If you die, your wife will weep, your misiress will lament, and your lady wear mourn ing. Which will you have? Subscribe for Tub Bee. Only ONE DuLLAltayear Office over San lord & Uawley'a sture, Maiu sireel,Newu.