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The bee. (Newtown, Conn.) 1877-1877, June 28, 1877, Image 1

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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. (
! it
published rmmf imuiudat,
t.M. JJrntel, i'uo'r aud thvp'r.
,T.fMaree, ' - tailor a-.a .van'r.
ibscrlpiiun Price, $1.00 A Year.
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.
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.
' 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,
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
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.
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.
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 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-
Lovo or Pride ?
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
'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
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
;he turned pale, snd put down tbe
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
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. .
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
"You must introduce me to your Eng
lish friends.''
"Mrs. Scrope Mrs and Miss Jervis."
said Mr. Scrope, his look riveted on
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.
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?
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