Plymouth Weekly Banner, Volume 5, Number 6, Plymouth, Marshall County, 1 May 1856 — Page 1

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n A Family Newspaper Devoted to Education, Agriculture, Commerce, Markets, General Intelligence, Foreign and Domestic News, .4 VOL. 5. NO. C.l PLYMOUTH, INDIANA, THURSDY, MAY 1, 1856. WHOLE NO. 214.

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rp TT Tl T3 A "JVT JT 17 T ! AnJ V 1 1

A BS TUAwlnMA & V St ft 4JWAOAA (Up stairs, in the Old Plymouth Hotel,)

BY WH. J. BURNS.

If paidin advance, $150 A failure to order a discontinuance at the expiration of the time subscribed for. trill be considered a newengageraent, and the paper

continued. 0"Na paperwill be discontinued untilall , rMiriixir n.iid. nn1fsstthe ontinp n lt. h e ' Publisher. ; ITThe above terma will be strictly ad MV4 j m tu. . II ADVERTISING. (TS LINZ? OR LESS MAKE A SdCAHr.) a j qnire three insertion or les SI. 00. B ich additional insertion . . . 25c. Business C irdi inserted ono year $5,00. Legal advevtisemeuts muat be cash in adtime not m irked, will be inserted till forbiJdea. and charged at the above rates. BANNER JOB PitLNTING OFFICE. 1IAKDEILL3, CIRCULARS, raM?HLTS. BUSINESS CABDS, LABELS. FLA N KS, &C, Execittd oa the shortest notice and iu the latest style. Ulank Deeds, Mortgages.JNo'es, Subpcenaes, Executions, and all kinds o Blanks kept on hand and lor sal. Office up stairs in the old Plymouth Hotel. Bra i -jamiMSSMJk'VJmnsMst DIRECTORY. M AR? HA LT. COUNTY DEMOCRAT, TJfX M-Djnal 1 aui II. D. Dickson propri's jpiUARLES PALMER, Dealer in Dry Goods, Boots a Shoes, Haidware. Queensware, f Groceries, ani Hats & Caps. Tj 7vTn Ü iKXETT S omce nt his Tesid?nce three doors north of Edwards' Hotel, on Michigan street. BROOKE & EVANS, Dealers in Dry GoodsGroceries, Crockery and Ready made Clothing; corner Lapoite V Mich, streets. BROvFxLEi I ÄTcÖ". Dealers in Dry 9 Goods, Boots Si Shoes, Ready made Clothinr, Hardwire & Cutlery. T"R. T. A. LEMON, Practicing Physician, J and dealer in Drugs & Medicines, Oils, Paints & Groceries, east side Michigan street. AVINEDGE. Dealer in Foreign and Do tnestic Groceries and Provisions, east aide Michigan street. . WL. PIATT, Chair & Cabinet maker, and Undertaker. Furniture room in north room of the old Plymouth Hotel. JHASELTO.V, Manufacturer and dealer in Boots Sc Shois, and Shoe Findings, west side .Michigan street. JOSEPH POTTER Sidlle and Harness manufacturer, corner Laporle aird Ceuler streets. G. S. CLEAVE LAND Wholesale and retail dealer in Dry Goods. Hardware and Groceries, new building, north side Laportejtt. TlToGLESBEE & Co. Dealers in Dry Goods Groceries, Hardware, Boots and Shoes, Crockery &c; in the Brick Store. OUERT RUSK, Dealer in Family Groceries. Provisions and Tinware. Bakery attached, east side Michigan street. ICE CftEM SALOON; M71l7fihbits proprietor, up stairs iu Rusk's building. ETsllVELT D:y Goods, GroceriesIardware Boots 6t Shoes, Ready made Clothing Ac. ERSHING 1 THOMPSON, Wholesale and Retail dealer iu Drugs Medicines, Oils, Paints, Glass & Glassware, and Groceries. BROWN & BAXTER Manufacturers of TinSheet iron and Copperware, and dealers ia Stoves sign of Tin shop Stove. CH. REEVE, Ätty. at Law. Collections punctually attended to ia Northern Indiana. Lands lor sale cheap. MW. SMITH, Justice of the peace, will attend to business in the Circuit and Com. Pleas courts. Over the Post office. Dn. SAM'L. HIGGINBOTHAM, Physician and Surgeon. Office at his residence on he east side of Michigan street. JO H NCOUGLE71Ce" ageneraI a ssortment of Dry Goo Is, Groceries, Vegetables nd Meats of all kinds- Cor. Gano& Mich. s'.s. DR. J. D attend GRAY, Eclectic Physician, will tend to calls day or nisht. 'Office four doors north of C. . Reeve's residence. ELLIOTT & Co; Wagon, "Cairiage & Plow Manufacturers, at their new stand at the aouth end of the Bridge, Michigan street.' DR. R. BROWN. Physician and Surgeon, will promptly attend to all calls in his ptofessioa. Office at his residence, south PJyra. Lr A. JOSEPH. Cabinet Maker and Un dertaker, South Plymouth. DR. CHAS. WEST, .Eclectic Physician, Office at his residence, east side MicLif an street. FAILOR, Cabinet Makerand underla in ter, corner Center & Washingron sts. EDWARDS' HOTEL, Wm. C. Edwards Proprietor, corner of Michigan and Washington streets. PC. TURNER, House Carpenter; JoinerShop on Washington street, east o' Michigan street. A K. BRIGGS. Horse Shoeing and Blacksmithineof all kinds done to order. Chop south east of Edwards' Hotel. MERICAX HOUSE, O. P. Cherry & Son proprietors, South Plymouth. JOHN SMITH. Manufacturer of Fine Custom mada Boots. Shop next door north of the Brick Store. JAME3 & M. ELLIOTT Turners, Chair MakeM, and Sign Painters, Michigan street, Boath Plymouth. MH. PEC HER & CO., Dealers in Family Groceries, Provisions, Conlectionariei' Ac. South Plymouth. 27 tlie JtlarVcet. TTTTTIl CAT At the highest market prices. V V taken on subscription to the Banner, ! delivered at the office. July, IS',5. . T:a cf Oll lilafi. neatly printed, Strata cttkf BawrOCa.

From Chamber's Journal.THE HEART'S TRIAL,

OR A Girl's Dilennia. Tbift is the anniversary of an important day in my life. I will keep it by recordsition; let not those stay to read whose harU haT0 ' wn too old l0 religh a loVe 6 story. At eighteen, I was one of the most thoughtless of human beings. My widowed father, a rich London merchant, had nuraoreu cTery niiim irom imancy, ana . .. e . , , asked nothing of me in return but lightheartetlness nnd affection. No one could have known less than I of the shadows and sorrows oflife, or havo been more childishly occupied in the present. It was the nig fit of my first ball, to which I was to be introduced under the most flatter ing auspices. I was half wild with ex citcment, and the moment my toilet was completed, I flew down stairs to show myself to my father, who was not going with me, as at first arranged, being pre. rented, he saiJ, by sudden and insurmountable engagements. Well I remem btr how impatiently I burst open the dining-room door, and with what a hound of elation I sprang toward the spot where he stood, spreading nut my beautiful dress, and making before him a sweeping courtesv. I seem to hear now the soft ruslle o( ilCe ttnJ Sltin . lo ffej lhe iow , t , , , . . , that burned on my cheeks, and the quick throbbings of my happy heart. I bad not at first noticed, in my eagerness, that the table was covered with paper;, and that my father wns not alone. Mr. Lncy, tarrister it law, his frienJ and mine for 1 had known him from my cradle sat opposi'.e to him, and a second glance show, ed mt how grave and anxious were the fa es of both. What is tho matter!' I asked, laying my hand caressingly ou my father's shoulder. lie looked at me fondly, till I saw the tears brim his eyes. 'My darling! he said, in an abrupt passionate way, 4Wo will not tell her, Lacy? It would be cruel. Let her have nt least a few more happy hours; she neod not know to night. How will she bear it?' Mr. Lacy looked increaeingly grave. I had become very grave too; my childish excitement had given place to a suddeu and almost womanly seriousness. 'it is no use hiding anything from mo, I said, trying to smile, though I trembled from head to foot in vaguo foreboding. 'I could not go to tho boll now; tell me what has happened.' The expression of my father's face deepened to anguish; he put his hands be. fore it, a. if the sight of mo was too painful to bear. I turned to Mr. Lacy. Do you tell me!' I implored. Mr. Lacy fixed upon me the fine searching eyes whose reproof had been the sorest penalty of my life, hitherto, and kept up the scrutiny till I could bear it rro longer, earnest and kindly as it was, I knelt on a cushion before him, and leaning my arms on his knees in a favorite attitude, I returned his gaze with a steady though tearful one. Try me, I said; 'perhaps I am more than the giddy child you think me. Besides, it cannot be so dreadful you are both alive and well! A peculiar expression passed over Mr. Lncy's face. lie aeemed hesitating whether to draw me into hi; arms, or to push me from . him; he did neither, but rose up suddenly, putting me gently back, and took a few turns through lhe room. 'Hal ford,' he said presently, and in agitated tones. 'Once mora I renew my offer. Of what uso is wealth like mine to a lonely man? With the help I can give, you may keep your credit, and breast the storm. You shrink from an obligation there is a chance of your never being ablo to conceal? Well, I will change places with you. Give me in return that is, if I can win her consentyour daughter as my wife! My father looked op with a literal gasp of astonishment. Mr. Lacy went on without heeding him. I am a fool, no doubt,' he tfcid; 'but the time has long gone by when Mildred was a child to. me. For the last two years, I have felt from the depths of my heart that she was a woman; I have fought against the insane wish to win her for my wife; my age, my past resolutions with her, seemed to make it a crime. Now I havo spoken; God knows, as much ' to save you from the disgrace you are so ob stinately bent on meeting, and her from poverty that would' crush her youth, as ( tü MlU,,r m' wn feelinf' M? to jna, words caanol aay; kow I wtU

guard and love her, my life only could prove. Mildred, what do you say? He paused opposite me, and took my hand. I was like one in a dream. Love! Marriage! Brought up as I had been at home, I had speculated les3 on these points than most girls of my age. I bad vague theories, indeed, gathered from poets nnd novelists; and my feelings for Mr, Lncy, a man of forty years of age, who had nursed me ns an infant, and whom 1 regarded wiih almost unlimited reverence as one of the best and wisest of the race, did not seem to correspond wiih them. I was unworthy of the honor incapable of fulfil'ing the office of wife to such a man. Wife.' it aeemed almost blasphemous to mention the word to such a child as I was. I shrank back from him towards my father, my cheeks burning, and my eyes full of tears. 'You refuse me, Mildred?' said he, I should be a villain to take advantage of my position and urge you. Yet in my heart I believe I could make you happy; what would you have but youth that I could not give you? There are many chances against your ever being offered again a strong, honest, undivided heart like mine. No young man could love as I do. Mildred, what you might be to me!' The strange lone of passionate earnestness made my heart beat quick. I glanced at my father; he 'was watching me with i nte use auxiety; no need to question what his wishes were. As for the meaning of this strange scene, I wanted no details; enough that some monetary crisis had come, that threatened disgrace and ruin. I could avert it, nnd how? By marrying one whose affection might have gratified the most ambitious heart one of the noblest of men one I loed, though perhaps not as he loved me. In

that hour of excitement, nod in my undisciplined mind, little was I prepared to weigh remote- possibilities and contingencies; besides, I was ardent, excitable, apt to weigh impulse for sentiment. Mildred, what you might be to ine! wrought upon my seuibility; his expres sion of subJued emotiou still further mov ed me. It never occurred to ma to de mand lime for explanation and reflection I felt constrained to answer him then and there.' 'If I wero less a child,' I said, blushing and trembling 'if I were moro your equal.' It was enough; ho drew near mo, and clasped me in his arms. Child!' he said passionately; 'my love my wife!' Then releasing me, and gazin at me 6eriouslv: 'You cive votirse'f !w J m Q - s ' to me willingly, Mildred; but I wiil not bind you. Six months hence. I will give you back your freedom, if you are not happy; nnd you will find it hard to deceive a love like mine.' My father rose and grasped his hand in silence. 'G.mI bless you, h- said, at length; 'I would have suffered much to secure such a protector for my child. Leave u, Mildred, to arrange some, matters that cannot be delayed even till the morning. I was eger lo obey, end bealone to think; and I Uft the room without a back glance. That half hour had revolutionized my whole being. " I was a child no longer. 1 locked my bedroom door, to give way to all thf tumultuous emotions of a woman. Sued for n wife engaged! I looked at myself in the glass, and wondered that a man like Mr. Lacy could love such a young, uninformed creatureas I appeared. There was an incongruity in it that struck me painfully. Still there wäs a distinction in his regard that flattered me; I had a very high esteem for him; I was warding off a calamity from mj father; I loved no one else no doubt I should be very happy. I sat down on the edge of the bed. and leaned my head little used to ache with such grave mat ter of reflection upon my mind. Unaccustomed to dream, at that moment an involuntary dream rose before my imagination. Instead of this strange compact, the wooing of a youthful lover; instead of mere consent on my part, the delicious hopes, the rich fruition of a conscious, active passion. Might it not have been thus? If beauty won love, I was fair enough; if freshness and strength of heart were needed, how mine throbbed under ideal bliss! The sound of Mr. Marcy's voice recalled mt to a sense of my duty to him; it was wrong to dream of such girlish possibilities now. He was goiDg away, and my father bad accompanied him to the head of the staircase. I suppose he had asked him if he would not wish to bid me good night,' for I heard him answer. . Jo, iht would not wish tt be disturb.

ed I fear to weary her. God forgive me if I am acting a selfish part!' I rose up resolutely; no more such weakness ns'lhat of the last hour; he was worthy of a woman's love and honor, and I would give it. The next two months passed in a state of tranquil happincts. If manly devotion, if the most delicate and minute attentions could win a heart, tnino would have been won; and I thought it was, and reposed on tho idea, Mr. Lacy made no attempt to prevent my plunge into the gny world, postponed for a while by the late strange incidents. Now and then he would go with me to ball or opera, but it was in the character of protector or spectator, not ns participant; and I (elt his presence a restraint. I was by no means a coquette; I strove to bear always in mind that I was his nffianced wife; but I was only eighteen, ardent in temperament, with high animal spirits, very much courted and admired, and I did enter with a keen zest into lhe

pleasures of life. His grave smile, 'n the Iiight of my enjoyment, used to fall like a weight on my heart. He himself, holding un important and influential position in the world, was full of earnest schemes of practical benevo lence, of professional reform. He seem ed to think, labor, and write mainly with an eye to other men's interests, and those in their highest and wildest bearings. He liked to talk to me of these thing?, and excite my moral enthusiasm; and whilo I listened, he carried heart and conviction with him. and t felt a call to such co-oporalion an honor, in which sacrifice could have no part. Then his look of intense affection and happiness, as he kissed the cheek to which his words had brought so deep a glow, stirred my soul, and left no doubt on my mind that I loved him. At the end of two months, Mr. Lacy Uft me to attend a summons to his father's death-bend. He expressed no fears as to the result of this separation, though I perceived a deep secret anxiety. 1 ßhared it. I had a morbid dread of the effect of ihis absence. 'Don't leave me,' I cried, clinging weeping to his arm. I am afraid of myself afraid of becoming unworthy of you.' How, Mildred?' was the answer. 'If you mean you will forget me, or discover you are mistaken in thinking you love me, it will save us both a. life-misery me, at least, a life-long remorse, For a week or two after he left me, I hardly went into society; but my father and friends laughed at my playing the widow, as they called it, and 1 soon resumed my former gaieties wiih, however, n certain restraint and moderation which I felt due lo Mr. Licy,' At length the temptation besot mo of which I seemed to have had a vague presentiment from the first evening of Mr. La cy's offer, and it beset me under its most assiduous form. My father's sister and nephew came to pay us a long-talked-, of visit; and even'before they arrived, I had begun to torture myself with doubts as to the issue of this intercourse. As children, Frank Ingram and I had spent half our time together; and as children, had pledged ourselves to each other. Five years had passed since we had met, for he had been studying medicino abroad; but an unbrokrn, though scanty correspondence had always been kept up. between the families. Frank had been my ideal as a child. If I found him so still if I were to love him! if, when .he came, he brought with him that future about which I had dreamed brought it in vain! There was something morbid in this state of mind; but lhe idea had fastened upon me, and I could not shake it off. My very self-mistrust was a snare. My aunt and cousin duly arrived; and of Frank I must speak the truth, even if I am accused of a wish to justify myself. Every charm a young man could have, I think he possessed. I say nothing of his personal beauty, or his ingenuous graces of manner. I could have withstood these, though I had a very keen appreciation of them. But he was as full of disinterested ardor in his profession as Mr. Lacy in his; had the same deep desire to be of use in his generation the same unselfish plans-end aspirations; only he unfolded them wiih such a winning self-mistrust, as if he doubted his worthiness for the high vocation and benevolence,' until he warmed into, enthusiasm; nnd then the passion of his speech, the very extravagance of his youthful hopes, thrilled roe with a power far beyond the reasoned wisdom of Mr. Lacy's enterprises. Oh, I longed to join hands with him in bis life-journey, and lend my fid to the working out of his Utopia, with a spontaneous fervor of desire never known before!

Lesser things lent their aid.' He was a fine musician, and an enthusiast in the art; we practiced constantly together. He taught me how to play and sing the German compositions he had introduced to me. I do not wish to dwell on details; but who does not know how. subtle a medium of lovo a kindred pursuit and enjoyment of music is? and Mr. Lacy had never cared for music. Then, again, he was my perpetual companion; at breakfast, his clear eyes and welcoming voice opened the day; and after its long hours of delightful intercourse, his hand was tho Inst I clasped at night. No attempt was made to put any restraint upon this dangerous companionship. My father looked upon us as brother and sister; besides, the fact of my engagement was known, and he had the most implicit confidence in his nephew's honor. He never considered iny danger, yet it was the greater. He might be strong, but I was weak. In short, I loved Frank. A letter, announcing the probable day of Mr. Lucy's return, roused ma to a conviction of the truth. 1 carried it up to my room. locked the door, and fell on my knees. What should I do? Should 1 keep my secret, end sin against my own

soul by marrying one I did not love? Surrdy, that were the worst crime of the two. What was left me, then, but to would the noble heart, belie my promise, inculpate my father? It seemed a dreadful alternative. After hours of agonized casuistry, I could not decide, but determined lo leave the final issue to chance. Did Fi-ank love me? Strange that I took that fact for granted, torturing myself with the idea what he would suffer he, wiih his young, strong capacity for sor row! This is not to be a long story, so I must not stay to analyze the state of my mind during the interval that elapsed before Mr. Lacy's return. A criminal awaiting a sure condemnation, end that approved by his own aching conscience, wound understand my feelings. The evening came on which we expected him Never had our drawing room worn a more happy, home like character. My father read the newspaper at ease in his ample chair; my handsome, lively aunt perpetually interrupting him with irrelevant remarks. I sat near the tea-table, for a certain hour had been fixed, and wo wait d for our guest before we began our favorite meal. I held a hook, to hide the chances of mr countenance. Had I doubted my cousin' love before, I should have doubted it no longer; how earnestly and searchingly he looked at me and hew gravo and 6ad he appeared! Th knock came. It was natural I should start; but it was hard to smile nuturally nt rny aunt's pleasant railery. Mr. Lncy came in; he was one cf those whose self-governed serene manner precludes flutter or embarrassment in others. Tho gentle friendliness of his greeting reassured me for the moment; under it 1 could hardly imagine the strong passionate current to exist that sometimes broke its bounds. Tho evening passed smoothly and pleasantly lo all externals. Mr. Lacy wns very grave, but then it was to be expected of a Eon who had just left his father's deaih bed, and my aunt's anir.at ed tongue filled up the intervals when conversation would have flagged. Frank and I snng together at my father's reques', for I feared to seem unwilling; beside., it precluded the necessity of my exertiug myself to talk. Frank was very serious, and. I thought, averse to sing with .me, but at the same time he had never sung to more advantage. lhe ordeal was over at last. Mr. Lacy look his leave, without anything in his manner to make me fear, or perhaps hope, that my secret was discovered. A week passed; ho was constantly with us. show, ing me tho same tenderness as ever, somewhat graver, but as certainly moro gentle. He seemed, too. to make n point of seeking Frank's society, and spoke of him in high terms to my father. Oh! what a heavy heart I carried during that period. Looking in my glass, I thought with wonder of the change six mouths can work in mind and body. At the end of those seven days, 1 enme to n resolution that nerved me with something like strength. I thought I would seek a direct interview with Mr. Lacy, tell him the whole truth, and throw myself on his generosity. Let him but release me from an engagement that became every hour moro intc'erable to contemplate, and I would consent to enter no other. Let him but free mt, and I would lire unmarried forever yes. though I must take labor and poverty as companions. It was the very evening of the day I had come to this decision, hat I chanced to meet Mr. Lacy on the Blairs, at the hour of his usual arrival. Here was the desired opportunity, but I trembled to avail myself of it. He forestalled me. 'Give me a quarter of an hour alone, Mildred, in the library,' he said; I have wished to have a few private words with you for days.' We went in; he placed me a chair near the fire, and closed the door carefully, then came up to me, standit.g before me a h spoke: 'This day six months ago, Mildred, I made a promise l am now going to redeem. If you are not happy, I said, f will free you fmm the engagement you made with me. You are. not happy. I suspected the truth from your letters when in Scotlandthose painful letters and 1 saw it confirmed the first night of my arrival. The expression of your face, the tone of your voice, when you spoke to jour cousin, would tart, let the itronst doubt

at rest, and killed the most pertinacious hope.' i H paused a moment, then went on as calmly as before; I acquit you of all blame, Mildred; it was I that acted the unworthy part, taking unmanly advantage of my power to help your father, and your untried child's heart. If I were not now the only sufferer, 1 could scarcely bear the retrospect; but I am. thank God! As for your father, our fears magnified his danger; the little help I was ablo to give has re-established his position as firmly as before. He will repay me; you owe me nothing. I have had a wild dream, but I am awake at last awake enough to see it was a fool's idea that a man like me could win a young girl's heart.' He was calm no longer, but he turned abruptly away to hide his emotion. 'Mr. Lacy,' I cried, striving to stifle the conflict of my love, I would fain do right. I have a deep esteem for you I' I broke off. 'Give me a little time, I added, passionately renewing the effort; 'I shall conquer this love of mine. 1 will become worthy of you after all." Conquer the purest feeling of a woman's heart! Offer yourself a sacrifice to my selfishness! No, no, Mildred, yours is a season of blessedness mine is already past. Presently I will come back to you in my old character, and be able to say with less difficulty than ! do tonight, 'God bless you both. I will kiss you for the last time.' He clasped me in hi arms, and kissed me, seemingly with more earnestness than passion. As the door closed upon him, a strange impulse seized me. I longed to call him back. Was it true that I did not love him? I saw none of my family that evening, for I went at once to my room. What a night of misery and conflict I passed! The next morning, Erank came to my prate sitting room, and knocked for admittance, lie held a letter in his hand; his fine eyes were suffused with happi-dess.

Sympathize with bip. Mildred. he said, ! feel too much to bear it alone. I have never talked to you about hpr, for I could not trust inysell with the subject while a doub: remained. Now I will tell you about my darling; she is as worthy of a true man's heart as as Mr. Lncy is of yours. By the way, Mildred, I was very anxious about you that night he came hurne, for your manner was not not what, were I in his place, would have satisfied me; but that is the form a wo man's caprice takes with you, 1 have con eluded. As for not loving him at bot tom, 1 don't dare so to impugn my noble cousin s heart and understanding.' Fonk talked so long and earnestly to'd me tho story of his love, read me his letter; but I heard nothing distinctly, understood nothing fully. Oz.e fact I grasped, that he wts going to leave me tomorrow going to this darling of his nnd that if I had a spark of womanly sense left I must excite it new. I don't kuow how 1 bore my martyrdom; but I won its crown. Frank bade me good-bye without a suspicion of the truth. I ran once more to the solitude of my chnmber. I felt abandoned prostrate 1 flung myself on the bed in a transport of despair. Why. 1 had lost all! Had 1 been so criminal, that mv punishment was so heavy? Oh, Frank!' I cripd, 'how I have loved you what life might have been!' Then I reflected, if Mr. Lacy lov td me as I loved my cousin, what a fine spirit and nature he had shown, what e rare gift such a heart was! Miserable as I was. it was deeper misery to think I was the cause of his. 1 was very ill alter these events, and fears for my health quite absorbed any anger my father might bare felt at the disappointment of a cherished desire, or perhaps Mr. Lacy, by his representations, had shielded me against it. When I recovered, people 6aid I was very much altered, and so I wos. The flush of youth was passed; I was not twenty, but nothing of the childishness of a few months back was lift. Frank was married, and Mr. Lacy we never saw at least I never saw him. Disappointment had made life an earnest thing to me; and taught by its disciplines, the character of my former lover rost in dignity in my. eyes," How was it that what I had thought would be a life-long regret my love for my cousin seemed a transient emotion, of which the traces grew daily feebler? Had I sacrificed my happiness to a passing fancy? Or was it that at my age one cannot cling to the impossible? Little signified lhe seeming cantrariety of my heart, for the fact remained if I had never loved Mr. Lacy before, I loved him now. I thought perpetually of the incidents of our brief engagement every word of endearment, every look of approval, every embrace, had its hold on my memory. I recalled his opinions, framing my own stringently by' the,m, and followed his public career so far as I was able, aided by my deep knowledge of the high principles and motives that actuated it. The feeling grew in silence, till my former love for Frank was but a child's dream in comparison. To hear his name mentioned, end always mentioned in connection with something honorable, moved me with a strängt passion of feeling and h had loved me! Oh! did he love me yet? Time passed, and I had long resumed my former relations with society, and had met with successes enough ia gratify my heart, had vanity been my ruling passion, or could I have adopted it In place of the Ode which was secretly sapping the fresh springs of lift,: " Bomtioer th) idea oc

curred, that it might be possible, withe at any compromise of womanly dignity, to ascertain his feelings for me, end if they

remained unchanged, to teach him the change in mine, and then I fell into that Coloring of the bright future which fee ma to be the ordained and Sisyphus-Use pen alty of the unhappy. My chance came at last. At a Ure diuner party, I unexpectedly met Mr. Lacy. He came to me at once; spoke kindly and gently, as in long-times; but there was nothing to lead to the idea that he still loved me no hesitation in tho well-known voico, no leteut tenderness in the searching eyes. I could not bear it and wished he would leave mo to my self, and not tortare me with that crtel friendship. At my first opportunity, I turned from him, and engaged myself in conversing with n gentleman who was well known to be one cf my suitors. It appeared like coquetry, but it was the eagerness of self-mistrust. The evenicg seemed very long, and insuppurtably painful; I had not known how tenacious ly I had clung to hope until it failed me. When Mr. Lacy came forward to help me lo my carriage, I felt I could hardly receive the ordinary civility from bim without betraying myself. 1 was surprised when he begged me to turn into an empty room we pasted on our way to the hall. 'Mildred,' he said, 'I was going to atk you wheu we first met tonight, wbuhei I might resume my old reh'.ions in your family. Nearly two years have past since we last met, and 1 thought I cculi bring you back the calm heart of n friend. But you have studiously shunned rr.w, that to ask permission now seems superfluous. What am I to think? Have you not forgiven me yet for the misery I ccst ycu?' I was silent. If I could have fallen at his feet, and sobbed out the truth. 1 might have been blessed for life. But that would have been too great a saciifice for even lore to exact from a woc:n 8 pride. 'If the sympathy in your disappointment would entitle me to the character of a friend, Mr. Lacy paused, "you would give me your hand willingly. Pardon me, Mildred, for what may seem an unmanly allusion, but it is best to rr.aV.o it if there is any chance for fuluro friendship between us. It wea hard to give you up, harder still to feel the sacrifice hsd been in vain. Had you been happily married I could hare returned to you sooner; but suffering, and to fael I had no power to soothe'This generosity was too much for me. I rose up has'.ly from the feat I had taken. I cannot bear it, I said, rtfculy. 'the past h:3 been cruel enough, but this is worsa than all. Oh! I am miserable! Friends we can never be let me go home!' I 6 poke with the fretfulnrss of a child; he louked amazed. 'Am I ngain deceived?' he asked. 'I was told that the gentlemtn I saw with you this evening. Mr. Branson, was your devoted lover. I know him well; he deserves you, Mildred. I rejoiced to sea you bright and animated, as you used to be( in his tociety to think there was co blight on the future for you at le&tt. What can you mean? You will not risk, surely the happinets of both? Pardon me,' he said, coloring. 'I forgot I have not even n fnenu s right to warm. On the brisk of one's fate, to deliberate is to lose all. Mr. Bransion is nothing to me I said, white, and trembling, 'and never will be more; the past will not let itself be so soon forgtten. My tone seems to excite him. 'Mildred!' be exclaimed, passionately; 'did you then love him so much? Ah! bad mine been the power! He drew a long breath, and fixed for a moment a gaze on my face that solved my last doubt, broke down the last barri er. Frank has long been forgotten,' I said, and instantly I held out my bond, 'thai was a child's love. What I want for the future, is to be what the past once premised, Mr. Lacy.' 1 had stood erect, end spoken audibly, up to this point; but here my head drooped, my eher ks burned, yet from co ignoble shame. One quick glance of searching astonishment, oae rapturous exclamation, and I was folded in his crnij. 'Mildred, forgive my doubt. You have regretted me you love me?' Beyond what you have asked,' I stammered, hiding my face on his shoulder, -beyond friendship. I feel I have found my ark of refuge!' i i a m a What's that?' asked Mrs. Partington, looking up at the column on the plnce Vendome, during her late visit to Parii. 'The pillar ot Napoleon,' was the answer. Well, I never did!' the exclaimed; and that's his pillow! he was a great man to use that; but it's more like o bolster. And it's made of iron. I do believe. Ab, Isaac, see what it is to be great! How hard his head must have rested on that ironical pillow, vHsa e-saa--Leap Year. A petition has been presented to the New York Legislature, asking.' that a law be passed, malt eg eyery'alternate year a 'leap year. The petition set forth that for the past few weeks of the new year, more marriages have taken place, and much mora counicg going forward; and they balievs that leap yen is a needful and beneficial institution. calculated to do much for "woman's rights." , . ; A sale of Kentucky leaf tobacco.' rati. ed in Larue county, was made ixs Louis vuitui! ricsy tvuiD 15 per fcanarea.

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