Plymouth Banner, Volume 4, Number 2, Plymouth, Marshall County, 29 March 1855 — Page 1

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A Family NewspaperDevoted to Education, Agriculture, Commerce, Markets, General Intelligence, Foreign and Domestic News, PLYMOUTH, INDIANA, THURSDAY, MARCH 29, 1855. WHOLE NO. 158. VOL.. 4. NO. 2.1

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iiin not muked. will be inirrted till firbildiMi. ; fair beginning at least, and then I shall ; ml chirjreil t th above rat-. i think there is some hope for yoa yet." ; ÄSSÄwlÄI. I ca-aoi..Kati: i(he U decU.eJ.; mietor. ll Wl" noi "e m? iriU't- There are plen-

mifn moil IlIOItfP lUti U.&3U Jl 1WIU1UU BT iirtS. JULIA C. It. DOS2. COXTISCEP. CHAPTER III. AlelaUe lay quietly sobbing at long j intervals, like a tired ch;l J, for nearly an hour, then she raised her head, and Kite said, s ft!y: ' You had better to bed now, dear, and try to sleep v., Km I must tell vou all about thia to night. I never tho ight of mar- j rvin Willis Fletcher until this evening. I I'liked his 0city. for it diverted my j mind from other mittr. nn I I did not ! i l raJ n,t;,uiir'r i c'inn'ifi m iMir i iu i in-; uii uuuiiu ? i for m-i pirticululy. ' WW. .-V"V" 1 While you wera chtiiinj; with Mrs. Lmvis iinii was ojiuic i ititiiri .ums w ) i j felt warm an I tire 1, an I thought I would j -1 - w . r l" i ...., - . a it co up to tho dressing room. wnere 1 I could be alona for awhile. You know ihere is a small room adjoining the Hrger om.an l I Tvtmt in there, and threw myself down on a loungo behind the door. Presently I heird voicos in the otuer room Fanny Loomis. Clan Hall, and Jana Temple ware there: they-were. talking of me and of Georgs Tilden an I what do yoü ihink they said Kat! They said that every body could see that 1 was dying for him: yes, that was it dying for him, in spite o( the mask I was trying to weir; and they pitied me so, and sai I it was unfortunate it mast be such a mortification to me. for I was so proud. Clara Htll had alerter rrom Theresa Gordon last week; and she wrote that George Tilden was to be married, in February, to a lidy in Alabama. Oh. Kate! I saw through it all, then. I had thought before, that he really believed me fickle and inconstant; but I saw then that it was not so. It was a mere excuse for breakin; the engagement, that he might return h;s Utter love. Thev said a ereat deal nore, Kite: I cannot tell you all but it made me wild; anJ I was obliged W lilt a l to listen, for I could not leave my position without beiuz discovered. At length ther went down, and I stole out through . . i.ä K-ii-L- eti rr;a aii.l wot into the carL ft w l v:ii: flailinr f nn, i.l in there-i neu. ii nils i icikuvt he tola ms that he Wed me; he begged me to be hia wife. Kite the pittying. taunting voices of those girls were in my ear every moment, aud I consented. He urged me to name nn early üay lor our marriage. That startled me a little; but I thought of George's wedding in February, and I told him that I would be his next month. There now you know all about it!" and s'ie threw herself bick in th? chair with a sigh of relief. Kite was weeping silently, Adelaide it h not too late yet; this can be broken off. Mr. Fletcher wil' release you, when you tell him the true state of the case." -- . . r .nn think I would ask it. Kate? I do not wish it; I shall not draw back this time. And do not cry about it, sister I presume I shall be just as happy as other people. Mr. Fletcher is all that 13 good and noble, and I will try to make him a good wife; at any rate, I shall not be pitied any more." "Oh. Ada! my dear sister, that haughty spirit of yours is urging you to the commission of a terrible orrof. I do not know thit crime would bs too severe a word. There can be no true happiness in marriaga without mutual love think what you are about to do. Will you make a false vow at the altar? Will you promise to love him and him only who i3 standing by your side, when every throb of your heart tells you that it belongs to another?" "I told you that I did not love. Willis Fletcher and I do not, but I did not tell you that I still loved another. Love George Tilden! no I hate him!" Do not decieve yourself; Adelaide; bat, above all, do net deceive Mr. Fletcher. If you will persist in this course, at least promise me that you will make him ncquainted with jour whole past history." "I cannot do it, Kate it is nothing that concerns him in any way. I presume he has heard or it already: if he haa not, it is no fault of mine, and I shall not take the trouble to inform him. I want you to understand me now perfectly, my dear sister, and then we will not discuss this question any more. I shall marry Wi',.

,is Fletcher, B"d 1 shal- I""- 10 love j1jm jf ne is kind to me. I shall discharge aj lne duties I owe him faithfully, and

" no1 cpect to be wretched. I hardly Knew nnii i was aooui wren l pieug - ed myself to him, but I do not regret it now. Look at me. Kate I am as calm as I ever was in my life, and I tell you I do not reeret it." j glaU Eay nQ mor(J f0 dissuade you, bUrl,,nr!lnSf not let Mr. Fletcher be deceived in the niture of your feelings toward him; and, jf ne reaHy loves you, he will bo willing tQ Jelay j.ouf marr.age f()r awhilCi anJ give you timo to -learn to love him.' I veuoc maw va twi: jinmsr juu uscu, uui ! I tlink it rather an equivocal one." i i- .t. .U- I V... It rmild n5vpr. nn pnrvl nnrnRcn. o r-.r-Kite and miht, pI9ps, m&ke him love me less which certainly would not pro-, mete his happiness. I conclude, from

what the girls said, that my affairs are in it well and appreciated it fully. To do everybody's mouth, and I shall take it hr justice, she gave him esteem, reverfor granted that lie has heard ef my form ence, gaatitule. even a calm and qu'ft er engagement." j gflfection everything iu short, but love; You said, you should discharge all the ( and as she stood by his side at the altar, duties you owed him faithfully, and one t and in a voice low, tremulous, and flJl of the very first of these is perfect truth-! of feeling, uttered the respouses, a less fulness. Do not start wrong make a credulous heart thau his might have been

i j tongues reauy to leu sweu iaics;aiiu

I if he says any thing to me about it, I can Her voice was calm, and she could disI tell him the whole story then. Now, kiss cern ni traces of nn internal struggle, j me goid night, and don't ynu blame or i "lam almost contented about you. ! reproach m Kate I cannot bear that. ' dearest Ada," she said, as they were for j We are not alike, and must not expect to ; the last time alone in their own little

view these thing3 througn tno same eyes; . and, as 1 s-id before people will stop piltyinS me now Ah! that was the secret of the whole matter. Adelaide Lindsley would prove - to the whole worlJ nnd, more than all. j to George Tilden himself, that the sundering of the ties that bound them had caused her ts little grief as it had him. " he tad o soon forgotten her, and was j so s ion ready to take upon himself new: vow, she would proTe that her memory ws no better than his own. She would t i a tl i ii a be a w i fe he rsel f . be fore he had led a no th - D a nerseii, Deiore ne aau leuanotn - to the altar. i CHAPTER IV. Oh ct thou no AiT ction from thee ! In this bitt-r world, II ld t th hoart. tlit only trr-aure. f.ist. Wati li grj.nrd it siff-r i.ot a brc ith to lim. The bright gem's purity. And t bi eye Thore was lnt one boloved f.ic on earth. Aid that was shining ou him. Biro.v. Adelaide, my daughter," said Mr. Itfidslv th next morninf. "Mr; P!?r . - - j - - -. . - . .s - - n V. . I c t ..! ln, ar 1 frtl.t mv m fl Vi s , ' si n m iicic iaoi vuiiiii Dili iuiii in .tit..! you hd promised to be hia wife provided he could gain my approval. This is a Very sudJen affair on your part. I told turn, of course, that I had no objection to receiving him as a son-in-law, if it was your wish to become his wife ; but hemust have seen that I was surprised. Have yoa considered this matter well?" Yes. sir, and I shall be reatfy to redeem my pledge in a very few week?." I thought perhaps there might be some mistake nbout it." "There is none, sir." Adelaide had hitherto spoken coldly, almost haulily; but now with a sudden revulsion of feeling, she threw herself into her father's I ' I arms aud burst into tears. "Oh.mydear father, do not refuse to give me your blessing. 'It is yours, tny child,' he replied, as j he parted the hair upon her forehead and iai. aii .it tr looxeu tenderly in ner irouoieu lace. , - uui, Auciaibu, uu nui ue uasvy in mis matter. I would not have a child of mine approach the altar from any other than the purest and holiest of motives. Willis Fletcher is very wealthy vou a.T.. .1l:. .1, . U 1 t.? j will move in a very diffeient sphere from that you have hitherto filled, and with many gi'ls this would be a sufficient inducement to accept hi3 hand. . Are you sure that it does not influence you?" "I have never given it a thought, father, and I could not sell myself. Y'ou surely do not think that he possesses ; nothing but his wealth to recommend him'' "No Ada I admire his character very much, and if you love him, I have noth irtrr rviAre t ft c tr " "o w . Adelaide did not answer. Her father's j keen, piercing eye was fixed steadily up on her, and she felt the color mounting to her forehead. Ada will you not delay this marriage for a few months?" Mr. Fletcher urges a speedy union, sir, and I have no good reason to give for objecting. It may as well be one time as another.' "I should be sorry to give you pain, my child, but you must let me speak plainly this once. 1 believe that a second love may be as true and as lender as a first, and Willis Fletcher is quite as worthy of your affection as ever any one else wa3. But a vine torn from one resting-place will not at once twine around another. The bleeding tendrils must have time to heal and grow strong again. Do you understand me, my daughter?" 'Perfectly, sir; but in some cases the vine is very strong in itself, and needs no support. If you will allow me to decide for myself, my dear father, I would prefer that the marriage should take place at the time already named." "Very well, Ada, it shall be as you choose,' It is very possible that if Mr: Fletcher had remained in Middleburgh during the four weeks th 1 1 elapsed between the betrothal and the day appointed for the wedding, he might have sus pecteir tnai Aaeiaiue s leeungs towara him were not exactly wnai ne wouia nave them bo. Yet, even in that case he might have attributed anythinglike cold

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ness on her part merely to miiden coyness and reserve. But on the day after their engagment he left the village, and they did not meetagun uulil a few hours pre- : viou3 to trie ceremony. After Mr. Lindsley and Kite discover ed that Adelaide was fully resolved to follow tho course she hid marked out for ihe-nelf. thev made no further effort to dissuade her. On the contrary, they usJ every effort to cherish and strengthen ( the attachment they could but hope she was beginnin? to feel for him. who. was so soon to call her his wife. , ; Mr Fietcher. who himself resided in New York had friends in Middleburgh. Bnu irequenwj &pcm rt:n9 nu vuciu. Adelaide had, therefore, known him for i r .1 . 1 l.U 4l mnv rtc nr! hp hud lnve.l h?r lonr i j oi before sha wna aware of liic fct. Aj heart more full of truo and noble impuls-1 es than his never throbbed; and she knew justified in believing that ha gave her that also. K;W watch,,! he, 1,. II cheek was very pale, but that was noth. jng unusual, ana gave ncr no uneasiness. room. The ceremonies were all over. aad AdclaiJo was exchanging the vhite , dres?, with its delicate lace bertha, la which Willis had thought she looKed so very, very lovely, for on more suitable lor travelling. You told me four weeks ago that you did not love Mr. Fletcher, but I really believe you do a little. Oh. ! Ada, darlinc! do not be an unlovinz wife: do not repay the deep devotion of your husband w-lth indifference. " 'Da not fear for me. dear Kate. You know that I am not heartless, and I will I. .... ! lr r tn h n 11 1 h a f Wi 1 1 ; ? ,,m :.!, : try to be all that Willis coul 1" . Mint, Ada, once more I implore you to be frank with him. I do not think he even dream3 you ever cared for another. It would pain him probably for a little while to know, but it would be best in the end. Tell him that your heart has once bowed at another's shrine, but thai! henceforth tt shall respond only to the fond affection of his own. Will you not, dearest? I feel sure that he would love you none the let, ani his Rener or b?arancö added to the mere fact that you hive confided in him, would so fdr to increase your own attachment," " I cannot, Kate, it is too late now. and I hope he will never hear of it. But, sister, 6he continued earnestly. "I promj ise you that I will try to deserve his lovo. and to return it also," "God grant that you may do both, Adelaide, and may He direct and guide you. Do pot torget to look to Him, dearest, for strength and wisdom." "I will not I will not but oh, how I shall miss you Kate" -and Adelaide threw her arms about her 6ister's neck, sobbing wildly. "There is no safety for me anywhere but here.' "There is safety for you anywhere, my beloved sister, if you will only lean upon the Everlasting Arm. But you are wanted down stairs; I hear father and Willis inquiring for you. Here, batheyour face in this cool, fresh water, and I will brush your hair a little. There, now we will go down you don't look at all as if you had been crying" and vith their arms about each others waists, the sister's descended the stairs. A few weeks found Adelaide fairly established in her new home. And an elegant and luxurious home it was. Mr. Fletcher had purchased a beautiful place just out of the city, and fined up for the reception of hi3 bride with all the comforts and adornments 1hat wealth, guided by the most fastidious taste could procure. To Adelaide it was all; norelty and beauty. Her father wag in :what would, in New England parlance, be called moderate circumstances about mid i w.u. ucinccu Ills vaiC Ul mount of affluence- not way between the vale of poverty and the poor enough to he deprived of any of tho real comforts of hfe, and yet not rich enough to iudulge in any very expensive pleasures. Adelaide had an almost passionate love for the beautiful in Nature and art. Her husband had taken care that in the home he had provided for her, she should be enabled to gratify it to its fullest extent, and he was not disappointed in the delight it afforded her. But what touched her woman's heart more than all the rest, was to find that her own peculiar tastes had been so regarded. It seemed to her that she had never during all the years of flap acnnii'ntanxa U WD!:. ...a j . bijuiiiiii.u ii mis, uiiereu in his presence a wish, or even a fancy, that he had not remembered, and gathered as far as it was possible. They went from' room to room, each seeming to Adelaide's eyes more beautiful than the last, and at length entered one that her husband designed skould be exclusively her own. It contained a harp, book-case filled with the choicest books, in the costliest bindings, a writingdesk and a work-table, all of the most exquisite workmanship, and in tho large bay-window, which led into the garden, and afforded a fine view of the Hudson, was a collection of rare and beautiful plants. The chairs and ottomans were of the lightest and most graceful pat terns, and ne or two exquisite paintings nung upon the wall. She approached ( one ot mem, and then with an exclama , tion of astonishment drew still nearer, tfot a great while previous to their be

trothal she had been speaking to Mr. Fletcher of an engraving that she particularly admi red, and had said she belieyed she should never be tired of looking at it. She had never thoughtjof it since, but not so with her husband. At great expense, and with no little .trouble, he had sue ceeded in obtaining the original painting. Ob, Mr. Fletcher," she exclaimed, as she turned her swimming eyes upon him, 'you are only too good, too kind to me. How can I ever repay you?" uJVery easily, my love." he replied. "I consider myself already repaid if I have given you any pleasure; but if your gratitude at any timef becomes burthensome you can discharg-v all your obligations very readily jul call me by some less for mad and more familiar appellation than Mr. Fletcher, &7id I chall be the debtor. You have never called me TViIts once. Do you find any difficulty in pronouncing the woid?" "Oh. no, none at all," Slid Adelaide, laughing and blushing. "But but " "But what?" "Oh, nothing. Only I suppose I haven't got in the habit of it yet." "Well, I hope you will get in thohabit of treating mo familiarly before n great while. Ary you always sö C-hary of looks anJ words of affection, dear Ada? oj do not know how I long to feci that the

deep, pure love I bear you is returned fully. I have always been alone, as far as the nearest and deare3t relations of life are concerned. I can remember neither father nor mother, and my little sister died when I'wasjust old enough to weep as If my heart would break over something veryteriiUe, but which I could not comprehend. An I I have felt such a wish to be loved, for myself alone, as you, Ada, who have always breathed the atmosphere of affection, can never understand. I thought that when I could call you my own sweet wife, that restless yearning would be e tilled forever but it is not. You are always kind, but I want more than kindness, Ada; I can be satisfied with nothing lesn than love." There was an earnest, pleading tone in her husband's voice that went to Adelaide heart. What would she not have given if she could, iu all sincerity, have thrown her arms about his neck with the fond words that would at once have sprung to tho lips of a true and loving wife. She replied kindly, affectionatly ; but sho felt that he was grieved because she did not respond ns he wished to his expressions of attachment. She felt how deeply she had wronged him in giving : tin tiauti ii.cn-fc-f rieepesl ami holiest affections did not accompany the gift. She had told Kate that she should be a good wife that she should discharge all her duties faithfully. She now saw that tier first duty wai to love that failing in lhat, she could discharge no other as she ought. CHAPTER V. Whenwill your parting be Sadness and Mirth? Unght stream a nd dark one oh, neveion earth! Never while triumphs and tombs are so near, While death and love walk the same dim sphere; While flowers unfold where tae storm may sweep, Whil the heart of man is a soundless deep!" llCMANS. We are very well aware, dear reader, that we are about to depart widely from the common usages of Author-land. Still, as we are merely a neophite, we hope to bo forgiven. B'U we have yet another excuse to plead; we are not writing a regular romance, with its full share of castles and dungeons, murders and banditti, but a plain story of every-day life; one which, indeed, has more than U foundation in fact. We are aware, too, that is the opinion of the younger and more imaginative class of readers, the interest of our story will be greatly diminished if we say that Adelaide neither died of a broken heart herself, nor caused her husband to do so. But such was the true state of the case and we are compelled to acknowledge it. Adelaide Lindsley, led on by pride and anu resentment, had committed a grevi ous error. .Shehad.br her hasty mar riage, placed the happiness of at least two lives in tho most imminent danger. But, as rhe had said to Kate she was not heartless: and she was by no means devoid of principle. She was young anu sorely tempted ; and she did not fully realize the risk she was incurring. iinu, in irutn, it was not until iong after her marriage not until she had learned how much there is in the very nappiest union to call for mutual love ana lorbearance: not until she had stood by her husband's side, in sorrow as well as tn joy; not until she knew, from actual ooservation and experience. how much there is in the familiar intercourse of home life, that will inevitably grow tame, commonplace, and devoid of interest, unless the elevat ing and refining muuenco of affection in. veets it with grace and diguity, that she became fully sen si bis hew tertilde h,l been the precipice, upon the brink of wnicn sne nad 6tood. But even before she had been many weeks a wife, her eyes ..fl- -i v " ncic sumucmij openea to make her tremblingly thank God that every day and every hour was making her husband still dearer to her heart that he possessed such noble traits of character that he was so devoted to her so tender and forbearing, that 6he could not help lovin m. Just one year after hei marriage she wrote as follows to her sister: -'I presume it is not necessity for rae to tell you, dear Kate, that thU is tie a nnivercarv nf my wedding. All day long hive 1 beenjblessing my Father in Heaven that I have not been Dunished ai I deserved, for approach the altar, with aue a irreverent loot-

steps. I do not Wonder that you, my sister you who realize so fully the holiness and sane tity of the true marriage, thought me wildmad. I was so; for fearful is the hazard incurred by any woman who places her happiness in the keeping of one whom she docs not love, no matter how stron? or deep m.ny be his attachment to her. Had my husband been any thing but what he is had he been one whit less worthy of love, or less calculated to inspi re it, I tremble to think what my fate would nave been. An unloving wile! Oh, Kate, can you think of any other combination of words so fraught with deep and mournful meaning? The danger is past in my case; for no wife ever loved a husband more devotedly than do mine now. But not the less regret the past. The first few months of my married life were cubiltered constantly by the knowledge that Willis was grieved ami disappointed that was not to him all that he expected his wife would be; that he thought me cold, and, p.-r-haps, heartless. All tins would have been avoided many sad hours bolli on his part and my own, if had buttakcu your advice, Kate, and been less hasty. "But I must disagree with you still on ono point. I have always been glad that Willis knows nothing of my former engagement. I think it would have troubled him, particularly when wo were married; he has some peculiar ways of thinking, and on) of his notions is that a second attachment if, ever felt at all, can never equal a first in depth or intensity. So you see it is well that he is ignorant of that affair; and since I

ihave K'nownMiis ideas on the subject, I have been in cö.!5tint fear lest he should hear of it' I shall ptCbly be with you iu June, and remain a niontu or two and went we have fine times? r : - r... .u : . i i ,i,Ä :,- .. . . u i the ties that bind a woman to her early . .W.V., WU A 14 IS iiVTfc Ll, UL , b CEI III I never loved you, dearest Kate, or our dear father, any better than now; and I somteirr.es think never half as well." Very proud and very happy was Adelaide, when the returned to Middleburgh the ensuing summer, to pass a few weeks beneath the shadows of the same trees that had sheltered her childhood, for she bore a little Kate with her, who must needs be preseuted to grandpapa and Aunt Kate. What a happy meeting it was! Mr. Lindsley aud Kate had both visited Adelaide in her own home; but that was her first return to the paternal roof since she left it as a bride. "Lot '.no have her let me have her !' cried Kate, extending her arms for the baby, and scarcely waiting to greet Mr. Fletcher and her sister. 'Oh, the dear little thing! what black eyes she has, and I really believe she knows me, Ada, for she smilea when I speak to her." "I presume she does." was the laughing reply. have lalked .to her About Aunt Kate until I think she ought to know you, if she has any brains it all which her father seems greatly inclined to doubt. He wont believe that she even knows me, and pretends t? think that it is nothing but a sort of instinct that makes her reach out her little arms, and spring when I offer to take her. Oh ! you need not come to defend yourself, Willis; I was only telling what an unbeliever you are. and lhat you don't think that this child knows anything." "Not quite so bad as that, Ada." replied the young father. 1 am willing to admit that she seems to know when she is hungry; and when she is sleepy, she generally goes to' sleep. I am not aware whether mothers consider that as an evidence of remarkable genius or not. But you are credulous enough for both of us. Only think, Mr. Linialey, she was trying to make me believe yesterday, that the baby said 'papa;' and she is let me see she ia all of five months old isn't she, Ada?" 'You need not be uneasy lest 6ho is to precocious," 6aid Mr. Lindsley,, as he stooped to look at tho delicate little creature that Kate was caressing so fondly. "I have seen young mothers before, and they are very apt to havo remarkable chil. dren, But sho is really a pretty little thing who is she going to look like?" I don't knew who she resembles," replied Adelaide. "I gave her your uame, dear Kate, hoping that she might look like you I shall be satisfied if sho ia half as good," 'Oh, you flatterer! but come, lea is all ready for you and I know you must be tired. Here, Eliza, take the baby" and giving the child to the nurse, Kate led the way to the tea-table. Late as the hourof her arrival was, there was not a room in the dear old house that Adelaide did no: visit before she slept, not a nook in the gardeii that she did not explore, not a flower-bed over which she did not bend, not a joath which she did not retread. Her bright, happy eyes flashed everywhere, and seemed to take in evsrything at a glance; and her voice and Kate s were heard, now in one room and now in auother, mingling like tne numming ot btes. You must play and sing for me tonight, my daughters. Come, Ada, leave the rest of your explorations until to-morrow, and let us, luvn one of your old songs. Adelaide complied. Her husband was passionately fond of music, and at his re quest she had devoted much time to perlecting herself in the art. She had real. ly made wondetful improvement -and Mr. Lindsley and Kate were delighted. - 'Ada has been learning to play the harp. I wish you had one here she really performs admirably," said Mr. Fletcher, as his eye dwelt fondly upon his wife. "We are going to take you home with us, Kate, and you must take lessons of Signor Masseunelli, or what ever his name is, too." I should like it Tery much," replied Kate, "and we will talk more about it by and bye. But you are not to even think of home in. less than two months." 'How this music reminds me of Ther

esa Gordon.'" exclamed Ada; "she has never written to me, and I think it very strange. Do you hear any thing from Mr. Gordon, papa?" "Yes; I told you, you know, when I was in New York, that he married again soon af;er he returned from Europe. He did not make a very prudent choice, I imagine. His wife is but a very few years older than Theresa and they have never been able to agree. I am afraid that my old friend's homo is any thing but a Paradise." "1 am sorry to hear it." rcp'ied Adelaide. (,I always liked Mr. Gordon very much; and I used to loveTheiesa, too. Bjt sho certainly neglects us very strangeiy." "By tho way, Mr- Lindsloy f" said Mr. Fletchor, "what has become of that young man from t'rre -South he was a ward of Mr. GorJon's, I believe whom 1 used to seo here occasionally? I think his name was Tilden George Tilden, or James Tilden, or something ofthat sort." "I have not heard from him, directly, for a long time not since you wero married, I believe. Mr. Gordon sometimes alludes to him in his letters, but says

nothing very definite. ' "Well, your young friends are both rather negligent, and not any too gratoful I think. By tho way, Ada, did n't 1 hoar once that re was very much in love with you? It seems to me 1 remember some such gossip a3 that years ago." How' Adelaide's cheek burned, and how her heart throbbed! U was one of the I penalties of the deception sho hav. . . , . , iliro,l Ifnunril Willie 11rt cho irnc i nracin con-1 ight did ; stunt fear of detection. But the 1 ! f VP''11 her fa" nd hearing a cry from little Kate, who was m tho adjoining room just then, she flaw to the cradle, while her sister replied I suppo&o he was married about n month after you were vve heard that he was going to be." A new subject was broached before Adelaide returned: and as she entered the room, her father extended his hand drew her to his side. und "How pleasant this is, my daughter. Comt here Ivito. nnd si: down on Ihis si Je, I and I shall almost fancy Vou are little girls again, trying to seo which shall cling closest to papa. You look inoro like your mother ns you glow older, Ada, ho continued, passing his hand over the rich, dark hair, that was simply parte! on her tor head, and gathered in a knot ho-! hind ''don't you think she docs. Kale?" j Ah! it was a likeness perceptible only! to the cyo of affection. They were as un - like ns mother anJ daughter could br?; but Mr. Lin Jlsey loved b'4h, and fancied there was a resemblance between them. It was very late before the family parly seperated for the night; and even after they had all arisen nnd stood with the lighted candles in their hnnds, Mr. Lindsley still lingered as if unwilling to retire. After he had once left th? room he returned on some trivial errand, and again tenderly kissed them. Gid bless you nnd kpep you, mv children," he said; "I do not know but I am foolish, but I do not like to loave you this evening. I feel just in tho mood for sitting here and chatting all night. But good-night once more, all of you and with hia usual smile, even more beaming and kindly than its wont, he went up stairs. It was past tho usual breakfast hour when all the family excepting Mr. Lindsley. assembled at ihe table next morning. He had not yet come down. They wailed ten or fifteen minutes for him, and then Kate rang tho bell. Siill they heard no movements in his chamber, which was directly over the breakfast room; and aflor a littlo more delay, Kate said, "I will go up and speak to him. It wa3 much later than usual when he retired last night; and he is probably sleep ing so soundly that he has not heard either of the bells. "Why not let him sleep, Kate?" asked Mr. Fletcher; "he is growing old now, and ought to be taking his ease, nnd as you say, it was very late when wo seperated last night." "Oh, he never likes to sleep later than this," replied Kate; "and besides, he will be particularly disappointed if he cannol take his coffee with you this morning. 1 will be back in a moment. Thy heard her run lightly up the stairs, trip along the hall, and tap at the dor ju3t above them. There was no answer, and she knocked again more loudly than before. "Father, are you awake?" she called. Still all was silence, and sho softly opened the door. Another moment, and a shriek so loud and piercing that the listeners sprang wildly to their feet, and their hearts stopped beating rane out en tho clear, still, morning air. Stay here, Adelaide.' said Mr. Fletcher, detaining his wife as she wo'd have rushed past him. "Let mo go first." But ehe would not be kept back, and tbey entered the chamber together. The bed was undisturbed, and had evidently not been occupied during the nicht. The candle was still burning dimly in its socket the long, black wick looked grim and weird-like in the faint light that struggled through the blinds, and a close, sickening odor filled the room. Air. Lindsley was sitting in an arm-chair by the head of the bed, with his open Bible upon his knee, and they noticed afterward that his finger rested upon those words "There remaineth, therefore a rest for the people of God." His head had fallen upon one side, and lay noon ihejpillow, and his white hair was swept back from his forehead, leaving it calm and undisturbed as that of an infant. The same smile with which he had left

them on the previous night still lingered on his lip; but on? glance was tufhVie'it to tell them that the spirit had flol foreverhe was stone dead. Kate had fallen upon her knees by hi side, and, with her hands clapped convulsively together, was gazing upon hi lif less form, with a look of terror and agony upon her face far more terrible t bohold than tho pole, calm features of lhe dead. Adelaide's strength and selPconlrol seldom failed her in an emergency, and with n firmness that surprised her husband, she sprang quickly to her sister's 6ido. Kate. Kato, look at me! speak to nu' Do you not know mo kate?" The dim eyes turned partially toward her, and tho white finger were knit still more firmly together; but there was no other token of recognition. By this timo tho terrified servants and n near neighbor or two, who had been startled by Rate' shrill, piercing scream, came crowding it.to the room. With a wnive of the hand Mr. Fletcher motioned them back, and raising Kate in his arms lie bore her to her chamber, and laid her upon tho bed.

Adelaide hung over her in spocchles? . agony. Physicians were summoned, but i their efforts were in vain. Before tl. i sun, which she had so gayly welcomed at its rising. Vi a (4 TA9 rlinrl 1 1 a Trft i 1 1 1 IC r. f rt Warren lay cold and white and m'jtk'nles a thing of clay! She had been, for two or three years more or less affected by a disease of the. heart, but it had never given cither hcrself or her friends much uneasiness, as her general health seemed scarcely less firm than usual: But this sudden shock had been more than her delicate frame could endure, and the father nt;d daughter together s!pt the sleep that knows no waking. Rind friend and neighbors, instead cf the hired undertaker, perloimed the Inst sad offices for the dead arraying ihcr.i for their long repose, nnd with light and I reverent touch arranging upon the pnlo. still brows the white locks of ihe one, and ihe soft brown tresses of the other. Adelaide lay silently in her .husband' arms, in the very room where, on ll.last evening, they had all Rat toddler ! conversing si quietly and haopily S!io did not sigh or moan, nnd the sud.'en:KS of the blow seemed to havo stunned her. Mr. Fletcher longed to see her weep; but to his tender words and enressss sho t--turned no reply savo a slight pres-suro cf the hand. Occasionally a shudder we-' 1 ! pass over her frame, but her eyes 1 bright nn I t',-nrhsS3. we; Suddenly the bell rang. There werfe w quick strokes, and then a pause; i' uwm iw iLc ii suuiiueu, anu (ig'iiu i r(-i' Adelaide had not, at first, seemed t. he notice tho sound, bul now sho lifted head and listened eagerly. "Hark, Willis! that is for Kate ti,. bell struck twice.'' Presently, in rapid uccecsion,one 6I10I.H followed another until they had counts twenty-five. 'Ycs she was twentj--flve years o! Inst month. Oh, my poor, poor Kale!"' But still net tear moistened Adelaide" cheek; her lips wero parched, and !iet hands dry and burning. Then the bell tolled solemnly and slow; and, as the low peal floated to their eair. tender and sadly sweet, the tears, tl.. had refused to fbw, rose to Adelaide eyes, ond rolled slowly down her cheeki. Willis clasped her still closer tu !; j heart. "They a at res!, my Adchido. 0. Goi hath taken them, and He doeth t! things well!" "I know it I know it! B jt, oh. t!i are tolling for father now!" she exc! . u ed starting up. Mother, father, ciu - not ono left!" Willis laid her gently on the sofa, uu . stole out of the room. In n moment ! returned, bearing their babe in his nrn . Kneeling by h:r side, without spcakhu he placed the little one on her breast, as ) it nestled closely in her bosom, smili: softly. Adelaide clasped both tho child ana i. -.i husband's hand to her heart, vi;h an exclamation of love. "Oh, iny husband! my little 'Kat will not murmur or repine, while vou 0 still left me! I thank Thee, oh. my GuJ:" she continued, "that in the midst of w : -.u Thou hast remembered mercy!"'' The next day but one .was opp :;:'. for the funeral. A long and moumfi i 1 secession accompanied the bodies froii' i't-; house to the church, and the two c-.0i.vi were placed, sido by side, within tho -J -tar. A chaplet of white .flower rc-r :! upon tho black pall that covered the ctri in which Kate lay, and the soft, i;erribliog petals gleamed in strange cor.ii a jt with its sombre hue. The aged minister who had be n Mr. Lindsley's associate from early mru.hc J ; who had breathed the baptismal bles?m over their little ones in their infant ' ...v 1 1 1 v:. ., . u hu tuen uy ins uying wi:e, nivl wept with him over her grave; r. ho L.J, at that very altar, united both Kotc r ui Adelaide to tho husbands they h&d 'chosen now 6tood- there with .lis 'own blanched locks and trembling franc, vi a;; ing to bury his friend. His voice w'a j co tremulous that the listeuers bent car'Iy forward to catch thesoundas he t.c-unj. ed his text ."There remaineth lU r. f .rt.. a rest for the people of God!" There was not a dry eye in tho h wnen ne ceased speaking; and then. by .one, all who wished aonroachf.' m take a laat loek ot the dead. Slow! v. i? - erently they came, while the choir UaiA. ed a wailing dire-e and the 01 trans In," deep tones just stirred the Irembliü- hi, the old, the middle-aged, the young' no 1

uuioones wno were lilted uj, ,th- t

i