"F2551? A —~
NORVVALK
T T E.
YET»
"3.
]
E}
.'1‘W0 DOLLARS PER ANNUM. PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.
Ntunber 147, New Series.
THE NORWALK GAZETTE
IS Ponusiit-‘.0
EVERY WEDNl{SDAY MORNING,
BY
James Reed, Jr.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTON.
Villagesubscribers by Carrier, per year 332 00
oil “ in advmtcc “ “ $2 0
Tltmiewholiveout oftheCarrier'sdis- “
Consumption & Liver_ Complaint.
R. '.l‘AYLOR’S Balsam of Liv-
- cl‘\V()_l'I‘..——'I‘lti< Metllcitieis really doing
wonders. Never, within medical l.-istorv. has
there been a medicine which could perform so
miraculous a cure as this is daily doing. Coti-
suntption seems disarmed of its terrors. and
LiverCompl:tiirt vanishes at once when this
admirable vegetalile preparation is used. For
eight years has this remedy titaintained its
position against every species of imposition.
- 4
t
I
l
, l
» \.lJ
’NOR\VALIC, Ct. IVEDNESTAI’, SEPTEIYIBER 7, 1842.
7
[business than a large one: and that the htl from all frogs and toads and other snakes a-
which is rncststicccssfttl.
ble, to have your financial position easy, sq
that you can turn any way you please.
Do not love money extravagantly,
speak here, inert-ly with refer:-nceto getting
rich. In mor;ils.the inordinate love ofrnonitv
is one of tho tnost dcgi‘adirig vices. But the
sincss will in the end he the most rrspectabl. long as I am alive.
Do not gt-tdeeplj I'm off.
in debt: but so niartagc as always, if possi ,
trict at: take their papers at the Oliice $1 5Il
in advance-at the end of the year $73 00
Cotnpaniesuf-5 or more receiving their
papers by mail. if paid in advance $51 50
RATES or ADVERTISING.
For one square, or 16 lines, 3 weeks, 31 00
Eachfollowinginsertion. 20
Executoflsand Administrator's Notices. SI 00
Corntiiissioner"s notices, $1 25
Guardian. Divorce,and other N_otices, $1 00
‘the sqttare.
Y'eurlv advertisers. one square. $10 00
apayable quarterly. The privileg of yearly
iudvertisersis limited totheirown immediate
Ittisincss. _
Casual advertisements sent to this Ofiice-mus
be acconi.pam'.cr/. by the cash to trtsureznscrtton’
L .
Job Printing,
0 F A L L K I N D S t
VIEATLY EXECUTED AT THE GAZETTE OFFICE.
A Call to the Ladies.
HE Subscribers having jtist received a few
patterns ofliit-h antl Fasltionablc Delanes.
together with :1 splendid zissorttnent of Lawns
and Printed Muslins, wotild respectfully solicit
an examination of tlte saute by all those who
desire to purchase. They will be sold cheaper
than ever. Remetitber--west side the Bridge,
next door to Steveuson’s Hotel.
Bi-:.~\'r'i'ii' &. OSBORN.
G. \V. Raymond, Draper dc Tailor.
rm/.x .,
-43120.7(///iv/.7!
‘'2 x_’.‘..'_-
AVING taken a store in the sotttlt part of
Olrnsted's Building, east side ofthe Bridge,
is ready to give attention to all orders in his line
at short notice, on favorable term , and
in the Best anri Blast Fa.shion.able style.
From his experience in the business. he feels
confident itt his ability to give entire satisfaction
to all who mo-yfayogghirri with their patronage.
All garments made to order are warrantcditt fit.
Particular attention paid to Cutting.
The subscriber has oti liaud a good supply of
Cloths. Cussimeres, Sattinetts and Vestirigs.
which he will ttiake tip to order in a manner to
challenge cotiipetition.
Pilot and Beaver Cloths for Overcoati. with
superior Trimmings. .-
Also. a fine assortment of Stocks of’ various
stylesanrl putters. at the lowest cash prices.
Fall Fashions received. ~
Persons wishing garments ofany description
will find it In their advantage to call.
Norwalit, October 1841. 49
NE W
TAILORING ESTABLISHMENT.
HE subscriber would respectfully inform
his friends and the pttblic in general, that
he has opened a shop over the store of \Vm. 61,
B. Lockwood. recently occupied by M. Banks.
where. he would be happy to receive all orders
in his line. He f els confident in saying from
the experience he ltas had in New York as a
Cutter. that whoever will favor him with their
custom can depetid on having their work manti-
Norwalk. April 20. Josnrii E. CORKI-IR 23
Piano and Organ lstrnction.
HE stibscriber respectfully offers his ser-
vices totlteptiblic as a teacher ofthe Piano
and Organ. From his long practice and expe-
rience in music. he feels confident in his ability
to give satisfaction.
References -Rev. Wm. C. Mead, D. D ;
Stephen Srinith. Esq; Levi Clark; Asa E.
Smith; Chas. Isaacs; J. Comp, Jr; Wm. C.
Street.
N. B. PIANOS tuned and repaired in the best
manner and on reasonable tertits. Any orders
left at the store of W E Bissell. or with the sub-
scriber will meet with prompt attention.
25 WM. A. BARLOVV.
Additional Rules.
Adopted by the District Court of Connecticut,
fllarch S, 1842.
ANDREW '1‘. Jonson. District Judge.
Rule 2-5.—Form o/‘Notice to be sent to each
creditor. named in the original Petition, by an
itidifiisrent person, or the Marshall. as the Order
-may require. for the bankrupt, after discharge
and certificate. This petition is presented after
ithe decree in bankruptcy has passed.
To Creditor of
By order ofthe District Court of Connecticut you
are notified that my furtlter petition in bank-
trupficy. for a discharge and certificate, will be
‘heard at the District Court Room in ———— oti
Yours. &c. '
After the above is filled up and Signed by ‘he
bankrupt, an iridifferent person will compare
and seal it, and direct the.same toeach creditor
at his usual place of residence. like any other
'letter. and on the seal side. must be added these
words : “The Batik riipt notice of—--—-
Tlie indifferent person will see that all these
blanks are uroperly filled up. then he will lodge
the letters in the Post Office, and make his re-
turn in the following form : _
rti:'t'uitN. _
To the District Court of Connectzcut:
District of'Conuecticut ss.——thts———dtl.V “I
1842. I then deposited in the Post Ofiice
at in said District. a notice to each and
all the creditors named in petition of t_tt
bankruptcy, directed iothe Silltl creditors at their
several and usual place ofresidetice. In CQnf°'m‘
ty to Rule 25, of the District Court pf(,onnec
iicut. and in compliance with the published order
-of said Court.
. Igndifferent person.
-Sworn =to and subscribed this——— day of ——-
fraud and cou nterfcit.
Taylors’s Balsam of Liverwott to be at certain
remedy for this complaint. as I have used it
myself and found its tfibcts immediate. l
was much troubled untill made use of this
medicine. M. L. Hi-zctsiiaw, 211 Mangin st.
Iloars/mcss—CllI'e(l.—For the cure of
hoarsenessI can stroriglv rccommendDr. Tav-
lor’s Balsam of Liverwbrt. I have not only
found great benefit, ltut matiy of my ciingregg-
ttori by my recommendation have received great
benefit from its virtue. It is at once mild, r-tfi-
caciousnntl harmless. REV. Az. Li-zwis.
..Sct:cre Coughs amt Colt/s.—I have had a
tnost severe cold and cough for it long titne
which I could not get rid of. After using many
ttselessthingsl trietl Taylor’s Balsam of Li-
verwort. audit cured me in a few days.
JAS. B. Ki:tiiit.\'ocK.
Ra2'.s7'7ig ofBfood.--A bout two weeks ago I
had a fall. which caused me to spit large quart-
tities of hloo , which nothing could ctire until
I tried Doctor Tayior’s Balsam of Liverwort.
'I‘he medicine gave me immediate relicfand iii
a very short titttc effected an entire cure. Let
all personstry it.
Hucii Mc G.uivi-:v. 22 Cannon st.
SUMMER COMPLAI-N'l‘.— The Balsam
of Liverwort in several cases of this disease.
where all other remedies applied by physician.
have proved ineffectual, has produced a perfect
curti.
SURPRISING CURE OF CONSUMP-
TION. —M r. R. Glatldin, of Delhi. N. Y. of a
naturally consumptive constitution, has been
saved front on untittiely end by the use t.fDr.
Taylor's Balsam ofLivert.vort. A severe cold
brouglit on an attack of Pleurisy. and thus
ended in general dehility and consumption. A
constant coii,t_th. hectic fliish, Jestless nights.
quick pulse. and continued loss of fl--sh. auger-
ed a speedy death ; but as soon as l commen-
ced the use of this Balsam Igrew better, and
am now frilly restored to health.
SHORTNESS OF BPtEA'|‘H.—For this
disease. I have always found Dr. 'l‘aylor's Bal
satn of Liverwort an excellent remedy, It is
at once so safe and so efiective. that I always
use it in my practice. and recommend it to my
friends. I have used it in some hundreds (if
cases within the past four years, and Ihave
never had it fail. In many cases of asthma. I
fully believe it to have been the means ofsav-
ing precious lives. Let all useit.
GEORGE RALPn. M. D.
None genuine bttt that prepared at 375 Bow’-
ery. New York. as will be seen by the labels
when you buy. The genuine can alwaxs he
obtained ofthe Subscriber's Agent for Norwalk.
Juan A. WEED.
Norwalk. April 20th, 1842. (ii
HOW TO GET RICH.
Almost every merchant has been rich, or
at least prosperous. at sortie poitit of his life,
and if he is poor now, he can see very well
now how he might have avoided the disus-
ters which overtlirr w his hopes. He will
probably see that his misfortunes arose frotti
negiecting some of the following rules: Be
indtistriotis. Every body knows that indus-
try is a fttridamentttl virtue in the man of
business. But it is not every sort of indus-
try which tcndsto wealth". Many men work
hard to do it great deal of business. But it
is mt every sort of industry which tends to
wealth. Marty men work to do a greatdeitl
of business, and ttftcr all make less money
than they would if they did less. Industry
should be expended in setting to all the de-
trtils of business; in carefully finishing up
each separate uridi-rta king. and in ntainte
uance of such a systein as will keep every
thing under control.
Be econoniicil. This rule also is famil-
iar to every body. Economy is a virtue to
be practiced in pence as much as iupounds
A shilling a day saved. atnounts to an estate
in the course ofa life. Economy is espicially
important in the outset of lifs until the lounda
tions ofan estate are laid. Many men are poor
all their days, because when their necessary
expenses were small, they did not seize the
opportunity to save a small capital. which
would have changed their fortunes for the
whole ot their lives.
Stick to the business in which you are
regularly employed. Let speculators make
their thousands in a year ora day; mind
your own regular trade, never turning from
it to the right hand or to the left. If you
are a merchant, a professional man, or a
mechanic, never buy lots or stocks unless
you have surplus money which you wish to
invest. Your own business you understand
as well as other men; but other people's
business you do not understand. Let your
business be some one which is useful to the
community. All such occupations possess
the eletnents of profit in themselves, while
mere speculation has no such elements.
Never take great hazzards. Such haz-
zards are seldom ever balanced by the pros-
pects of profit; and if they were, the habit
ofmind which is induced, is unfavorable.
and generally the result is bad. To keep
what you have, should be the first rule; to
get what you can ftiirly, the second.
Do not be in a hurry to get rich. Grad-
ual gains are the only natural gains, and
they tvho are in haste to get rich, break over
sound rules. fall into temptation and distress
of various sorts, and generally fail of their
object. There is no use in getting rich sud-
lenly. The man who keeps his business
tinder his control and saves sotrn-thing from
vear to year, is always rich. At any ratt-
ne possesses the highest enjoyment which
riches are able to afford.
Never do business for the sake of-doing it
and being counted a great merchant. There
Justice -of the Peace.
, is often more money to be made by it small
'_l‘ickling‘,in the Tln'oat.—-I know Dr
and wrappers on each bottle. Be sure you look !
extt'at-agant desire of accumulation induces
an eagerness many times, which is impin-
haste to grasp it.
‘ F--enchtnun, on the subject of eatahles aid
spczilttiblcs. I
Yankee. I-lallo, Mounseerl what are
von going to do with them are frogs thetc.
infthut are baskt-t.7
Frenchniuu. De frog? Vv, sure, I will
eat de frog '
Irishntan. Ate him! what! ate thit
sprawling divil ofa stradrllebtig? 1’d as soon
ate all the sarpirits that St. Patrick curried
rue.
Yankee.
Motznseer.
bite at it frog?
You can’tbe in earnest nowl
call (le piclierelle?
that we catch with a frog bait.
Frenchman. Vat you tell me, sate .7 You
bait de frog vit de fish? l\lon diettl you no
understand de fI‘0Q—-_V0ll no taste, no sense,
no skill in tho cuisincl Fish de bait vit dc
frog! Begur!
Yankee. Fish dt-- baitl Why don't you
pail.-yvoo right end foreutost .7 f
Irishman. A_v. cuichlninacree. why don't
you ptit the cart before the horse, as I do?
Dutcliiiian Yaw. iityiiht-er. \vh_v doil’t
you dalk goot English as I does 3
Yankee. Dalk l Hit, ha, ha, ha, ha! you
talk dalking! Why you can’t no more pro.
nounce the English than a. wild I-Iippintot,
Yott can't get your clumsy Dutch tongue
rotind the words ofcivilized lstngtiage. Now
listen to me Mottnsver Frenchman, and I’ll
teach you how it is done.
Dutchman. No. listen to tnc—-—I unfer-
SIHHIS how to bronounce the most broperest.
‘I gomes from te todder sidt of Euklant, and
tzure I knows bows to shpoke dc pure
Enklish.
lrishtnan. Is that a raisonablc sort iv a
THISOII now .7 By that Same logic I should
kno\\‘vl*tO\\' to spoke iht‘ lttatish £t§il_ fit’-’t‘t« “r,
ifor ‘I came from this side _' . lnglantt._
and was niver across the lfiish chan-
nel since I was born, letaloue the day before
that. And thin besides, me great grand-
mother was a schoolm:istet'. and me second
cousin, on me ncigbbor’s side. was praicher
intil the lttirgiiin. So Misti-r Monshttre, I’m
the boy that'll taiche ye to spake Inglish
properly.
Frenchman, Oui. SpPfll( (IQ Inglcse
_-de Yankee. de Irish-inan, rle Dutch-man.
all speak hitn hess, and all speak him differ-
ent! Bcgarl Now, vat you call dis—(show-
ing a potatoe) dis porno de terre?
Yankee. That ptim detarl \Vli_v Moun-
seer, I call t_hat punt de tar a potato.
Frenchman. Oui. Now, sure, Vat you
call hitn .7
Iiislirnan. A paratie——a raal murphy,
to ba sure.
Frenchman. Oui. And sure, vat you
call hint .7
Dutchtnnn. ‘Vat I galls him.-’ VVV.
I galls liitn a bodado, and any vool might
know dirt.
Frenchman. Ha-! ha! ha! begar. you
all call him different. You all speak dc
true Inglese, and you no speak him alike.-
Ha. hit, ha, ha. ha. ha.
Yankee. IV:-ll Mottnseer, now let meat:
you a question. What is this I have in my
hand .7 (showing a cane.)
Frenchman. Vat is dat? Vv sure, that is
—sacre——me no can link. Vat you call dc
homtne. de rascalle, vat kill A-belle?
Yankee. VVhat killed a bell?
Frenchman. Oui. Monsieur, dat great
viscal (lat murd. dat knock down A-belle,
vile he keep dc sheep. de mouton.
Dutchman. Oh, oh. I know what he
means now; he means Gain, de vurst mur-
derer. ,
Frenchman. Oui, yes sare; ’tis one cane.
Yankee. Right, Mounseer. it ins't tvo
canes. Now, what do you call it, you limb
of old Ireland, you essence of brogue? I
Irishman. I’m after calling it a shallo-
lah: and if ye don’t be aisy citllin’ ill names
I’ll be afther provin’ it ve.
Dutchman. Now shentlemans. don’t vite
about a vortc. Hark do me. I'll but otit
one. What do you call dis? (showing a
quantity of ctird with whev.)
Irishman. Och l and’ isn’t it it bounty
clapper .7
Yankee. You’ may call it what you
please: but I call it lopper’d milk.
Frenchman. Lop ear tnilkl Mon Diett!
De Yankee milk ave de ear, ye hear what
he says Mon Dieu.
Dutchman. Now you bi.-’s all wrong;
dis what I have in the nokkin is sinearrase.
Yankee. Its a darned queer case. I think.
Why. you don’t lmowthe difference between
twee.-dledunt and tweedledee. So good bye
to vou.
Frenchman. De feedledum he is in no
feedledee, Beciir. (Here one of the frogs
hopped out: of Monsietir's basket ; he pur-
sues him.) Keshv de frog! 0 me pauvre
frog! 0 grand fricasse! he escapsl he run
away!
d"“" and 3° ‘T5555 "3 °b.l‘'°‘ {"001 I00 mllthrtaok him hcitci-"to be here no more.
I . , ‘ I q I‘ I
You ‘nu I Sum " pmkefel "° "0 was wet and covered with dock tiiud.
Frenchman. Pickett-lle! Vat is dirt you s,,,,e,el,,__n,o,.e S,,,j,,,,, I had
And so with the puffis,
Dutchman. Mine Cot! wnta vuss is
here apoiit a pull frog’? But. I'll riuy mine
,7 2our grout and den I’ll be off, duo, in lesser
Wt US no ttriie.
PARENTAL SORRO\V.
A few tnonths ago I buried my eldest son
lrcfitie manlv boy of eight _\'e:-trs of age, who
lad never had a day’s illness until that which
His
death occurred uudcrcircumstances peculiar-
}y painful to me. A _voting‘er child from a
,0DmI0gIje_.2? a MaMet,‘) bfllwepn I‘ Yin’ baby, had been down for nearly a fortnight.
‘ 9' an lhnmn’ a U“ mm"* and “ with an epidemic fever. In consequence of
lthc nature ofthediscasc, I used every precau
tion that prttdt-nt-e suggt-sit-d to guard the
other members of the family against it. But
of this one myieldi-st. I had but. little to fear;
he was so rugged and gent-rsilly hettl'.li_v.—
‘Still however I kept a vigilant ‘eye upon him
andespecially‘ forbade ltiin going into the
idocks, near his school, which_lie _was
rone to visit. ‘
One evening: I came home wcartr-d with
out of Ireland in a bag, down the throat lve ,, jnngdnyls ha“, j,,b,,,.' and ,.,._,“,d _.,, 50,“,
~ littleuisappoinlments. and foutid that he had
that be
[tax-
ed hitn with disobedience, and scolded him
ever done
before; and then ht;tt'shly ordered him to bid.
‘llS0 just come into the house. an!
Yankee. A dtirncd great long nosed f?.slt'H,, ,,,,,,m,d his ups‘ ,0, an ,._.,..,,j,,m,,,,. r,.,,;y
.'lS Isupposed; bttt I sternly checked hiin :
lwhon with a mute and sorrowful countenance
and ii swelling breast, he turned away and
went slowLy to his chatnbt-~r. My lieart
smote me!‘ vi-n at the montcnt though I felt
conscious ofdoing bitt ti fithr-i’s duty. But
how mot-.h kt-r-ner did I feel the pang when
I was informed in the course ofthe evening
by a neighbor, that my boy had gone to the
dock at the earnest solicittition of a younger
and fnvorite plsiyrnatt-.anil by the espi.-ciitl
permission of his school toaster in order. to
recover a cap bclonginqto the former, tvlitch
had blown over the wharf. Thus I lcaruvd
that what I had treated with unwanted
severitv as a fault, was but the impulsi-
of a gcnerotis nature, which, forgetlttl
of self, had hazarded perhaps life for
anothel-_ It was but the quick prompting
Ofih,-.1 manly spirit which I had always
endeavored to engraft upon his susceptible
mind. and which young as he was, had al-
readvmtinift-sted itself, on more than one
occasion.
How bitterlv did I regret m_v harshness
rind resolve to -make amends to his grieve-d
spirit in the morning! P.l,1:l that .-not-ning
”l'lt?\'t‘l' came to him in health. Before retir-
in:; for the night. however, I crept to his low
cot, and bent over him. A tear had stolen
down upon his cheek, and rested there,
I kissed it off; htit he slept so sweetly and so
calmly, that I did not venture to disturb hitn.
The next day he awoke with a raging
fever on his brain, and in forty-eight hours
was no more! He did not know me when
I first called to his bed side, nor at any time
:'tftPl'\\'al’(l, though in silentagony Ibent over
him till death and darkness closed the scene.
I would have given worlds to have whisper-
ed one kind word in his ear, and have been
answered ; but it was not permitted. Once
ittdecd ti smile, I thought of t'ccof__r_nition,
lighter! up his eye, and I leaned eagerly
forward. But it passed qttickly away, and
was Succeeded bv a cold and untnenning
glare and the wild tossing of the fcvered
limbs lasted till death came to his relief.
Every thing Inow see reminds me of the
lost one: Yesterdry I found some rude
pencil sketches which it was his delight to
make for the amusement of his younger
brother; to day in rumaging an old closet, I
came across his boots still covered with dock
rntid as when be last wore them : and every
morning and evening‘ I passthe ground
where his voice rang the inerriest among his
playmates. All these things speak to me
vividlv ofhis active life: but I cannot, though
I 0flN'i try. call an‘: other expression of his
face than that mute mournfttl one with which
he turned from me on the night Iso harshly
repulsed hitii. Then my he-artblr-eds rtfresh.
0! how careful should we all be that in otir
dail-y conduct toward those little beings sent
us by a kind providence. “'8 3|‘? "01 !3‘.Vf'"'..?
tip for ourselves the source of many abitter
tearl How cautions. that neither by incon-
siderate word or look we ttnjustly grieve
their generous feelings! And how guarded-
ly ought we to weigh every action agatrrst
its motive, lest in a moment or cxcitcment
we be led to mete out to the V€'DI:ll errors of
the heart the punishinentdue only to willing
crime! Alasl perhaps few parents suspect
how often the sudden blow, the fierce rebuke
is answered in their children by the tears.
not of passion, not of physical 0|‘ mental
pain. but ofa loving but grieved or outraged
nature.—Knicke'rboc/cer Magazine.
O! Sewky Iwish I was a bear.
A bear-——hal ha! Ma says you are
one now.
She does ! darnation take it———I guess I
aint then I wish I was.
La! Jonathan, you are so queer. \Vhat
do you want to be a bear for .7
Coz. they [rugs so all fired hard, as I've
he'rn say———and I can’t bug you balfhard
enough now, you leetle pluuip critter you.
Be still let me alone, or I'll holler.
You Jonathan, go away or
‘When Dr. Johnson courted Miss Porter,
whom he mrrried, he told her that he was a
man of mean extraction. that he had no mon-
ey. and that an uncle of his had been hang-
i-rl l The lady by the way of reducing her-
Irishman. Orb, and isnt that queer now
that it live straddle bug should run away
before he is cooked at. all. at all——the no-
self to an equality with him. replied, that she
had no more money than ‘himself, and that
though none of her relations had been hang-
;
grateful sarpint! St. Patrick, preserve mo
ed, she had fifty who deserved hanging.
OFFICE VVEST SIDE THE BRtDeE—ov,ER HO,YT’S STDRE.
Volume XIY.—Number 36,
MONEY MAKING;
on, success NOT ALWA'YS HAPPINESS.
BY MRS. EMMA c.miBumr.
‘The Gods have heard with too in lulcent. ears.’
Juvenat.
What is the matter with you Harry ?—
\Vhcn I parted with you yestet*daj.'. you were
in high spirits. anticipating ti deliglitful ride
with your favorite friend, Helen I-lazlehurst
and regarding every thing in life through a
rose-colored rriedium. Sr-arc:-ly twenty four
hotirs have elapsed, and I find you as grave
and sad as a world weary sage: what new
whim has seized you .7
A single hour Frank may suffice for the
ilt-veloptiient of events which color oue’s
whole future life.
What a philosophical remark! pray how
long is it siitcu you turned inoralist?
Momcnts oftt-n do the work of years,
Frank. A st-use of our duties and respon
sibilities, usually draws slowly upon the
soul, like the gradual unfolding of daylight
to the eye of the sleeper but sometimes it
fl tshes Sl1«’_lClt€'flly and s.:trtiur_rly ttpon us even
as the lightning, which tjeveals his hazard»
ous mourtttiiii path tothe bcnightctl l.l‘t1V('ll(?l‘
Upcn my word, I-htrrv, you soar an en-
9'lc’s flight above my humble comprehension
What is it that has happen»-d to you since‘
yestt-rda y .7
Mitch, Frank; enough in fact to change
all my future pl:]nS of life.
You speak in riddles, my good fellow.
I am going to quit college, Frank.
Quit college. Harry you jest so rely.
lu sober truth I have rlecitlecl to relinquisli
my sin lies, and try iuy fortune in the world
oftraffic.
Are you tttiid. H-trry to abandon such a
career as has before you in it proft-ssionitl
life .7 and to cotn._-. nearer to presnt prospects
how can you bear to withdraw from the
scenes of your scholastic labors, after three
years hard study, when the rewards of your
tilcnts and indttstry is within your grasp?
You are not —you cannot be serious.
I knew you would be sut‘pt'i.<ed Frank;
but Ihave sotnetliing else to tell you which
will astonsh you still more.
You know how long‘ I have adntirod
I-I---len I-lazlehurst and how greatly her inti-
macy with my sisters, has aided rue in obtain-
ing an accurate ktiowlcdge ofhcr character.
She is one of those sweet. Qt:'[1llL‘- creatures.
who though tinfited to dazzle in society,
cannot ftiil to inspire affoction in the he trts of
those who behold her in the domestic circle
1 have long loved her earnestly and ten
rlerly. bttt scarcely conscious of the sttwngth
ofmy own fer.-linzrs. I have never spoken to
her on the subject tintil betrayed by circum-
stances. 'th:it un.=pii'it-.1al Gad’. Ycstertlav
a large p:it‘ty,‘amonr_r whom were Helen and
myself, St"I.0lII. to ride, and we were all as
mt-rry as youth and healthful excitement
could make us. As we entered the woods,
the rest ofthe gov troop were considerblv in
advance of us. and while they cttntered albng
the main road. I caught the bridle of Hel-
en’s horse and turned him into a by-path
which met the road some two miles beyond.
I know not what impulse prompted me to
the freak ; it wasa mere frolic. for certainly
I hid no idea of the consequences tvh-ich
were. to rasult from it. Some how or other
we seemed to grow less niiriltftil when we
found ourselves alone. in the green WOOCI.-—
The sunset hour lent its soothing influence
to our feelings, we watched the beams of
golden light which fell between the gnarled
trimks ofthe old trees ringing here and there
a branch with its gorgeous hues, and throw-
ing a rich glow on the velvet-like turf, until
we became silent and almost sadened by
overpowering emotion. The quiet of the
place unbroken save by the trampling of
our horses, or the whizing of it bird above
our he:ids——tho lovliness of nature in her
wildness. and the soft breath of the summer
air all contributed ‘.0 subdu‘e our hearts. At
such a moment mirth seemed sacrilege.—
Helen had never looked tnore beautiful;
perhaps herjconscious heartlent it deeper flush
to l‘er cheek, and a softer sparkle to her eye,
for she seemed to groiv more and tnore love-
ly, the longer I gazed upon her S\\'t‘el. face.
I‘ know not hoiv it happened, Frank-—I was
excited-—bewilde.red —but I remember that I
gave vehement utterance to the emotions
which oppressed rite. Those words, which
when heart responds to heart, are never
spoken in vain, were breathed into the ear
ofthe agitated girl,'and that hotir witnessed
our be-trothal. I cannot describe to you the
intoxicating happiness of that moment. It
seemed to me. a dream, and yet as I clasped
the hand ofthe gentle and confiding creature
I felt that it was indeed a blessed reality.
Nothing could be more unpreinedit:-ited
than this avowal. and perhaps yet) will say,
nothing: could have been more indiscreet, bttt
when you passthrougzh a similar trial, Frank
vou will better understand the force of the
temptation. That hour decided my future
tlestinv. I went forth a light hearted boy,
to whom life was, as yet but a scene of enjoy-
ment and preparation for future struggle: I
returned laden with the responsibilities of
manhood, for I had taken into my keeping
the heart and happiness ofa fellow being.-
I was happy, very happy. Fl'3n!<-_'-and
yet, to you, as to a second conscience,
I may disclose the after confltctof my heart.
In the deep silence of night. when the voice
of passion was stilled, and the language of
wisdom made itself heard in my soul, I was
conscious that I had committeda great error.
Vvhai right hat! I, with my character. as yet
unformed by circumstances. my position in
society, as yet, undefined. my fortune uncer-
tain. my education incontplete——whtit right
had I to assume the voluntary guardianship
of a young‘ and innocent girl, whose ignor-
ance ofthe world placed her entirely under
my guidance? years must elapse before I can
claim the hand which she has plighted to me
—ycars of toil for me-—of patient suspense
for her. My very love has taught me the
selfishness of my conduct.
watches of the past night I have learned—-
what years are sometimes too shout to teagh
' —hotv fearful are the responsibilities of him
who prr-sumes to be his 'hrotlter’s keeper.’
You have committed an act of great indis-
cretion, Harry, it is true, but I cannot see
any reason for self reproach; Helen is old
enough to judge prudently for herself, and
site is fully aware of your pecuniary cit-.
cumsttinccs.
Yes, but Helen is one of the most un-
worldly creatures in existence; she has no
idea of poverty or privation, no knowledge
of the struggles which must he made by the
young and poor American; she would mar-
ry me to mori-ow if I were to express such
a wish, because she relies implicitly upon
my judgement, and I will not subject either
her or myself to the ll'llSel'lt'S of a straitencd
fortune. I rriust find some short cut to the.
temple of Plutus—some. rapid means of win-
ning gold, and the pleasures of intellectual
life must be relinquished for the pursuits of
coin mt-ice. _
But why not complete your collegiate
course before adopting any future vocation?
Because I should be obliged to sacrifice it
whole year, Frank. No, if I must relin-
qtiish myihopes of fame-—if I must leave to
others the glorious chariot race. while I
wrestle and sweat in the dusty arena, let the
strife begin at once.
If Helen loves you, Harry, she will
cheerfully submit to any delay which cir-
cuiristzinces may demand, and even share
your mirrow means, if success should be
denied.
Never would I subject a wife to all the
privzttions which must be the lot of poverty.
When I remember the patient toil of my
poor mother, her uncomplaining industry,
her close economy, nay, the household
drudgery to which she submitted during, my
chililhood——when I remember. the kecri cal-
ctilation of expenses necessary in our little
family, and the slavish attention to weari-
some duties which my father was compelled
to give in return for his yearly stipend, I
let‘! that I would rather live and die, a lonely
and Il'lS=')'litl.E’Cl being... —t-ltian” subject ‘those
whom I love to such it life.
Yet your mother was happy amid all her
trials, happy in the affection ofher husband
——-in the wr»lf:tre of her children-in the con-
sciousness of her own usefulness.
True, because a woman will submit to
eyery privation more cheerfully than she
can to a dearth ofaffcction, but the legacy of
my miseralle old uncle has materially added
to her enjoyments in later life. No, Frank.
had I kept watch and ward over my heart.
I could have been content to scorn dame
Fortnne’s favors, while my eye was fixed on
the glittering wreath of Fame, but now all
is changed. I love and am beloved—I have
been selfish enough to win what I cannot
wear, and I must be coutentto hide my jew-
el within my heart until I can show it to the
world in a golden setting.
The wisdom of twenty years could ofier
no arguments sufficiently cogent. to overcome
the impulses of mistaken feeling. Frank
Hargrave was silenced ifnotconvinced,and,
after tnany conversations with his friend,
resigning all hope of future companionship,
he applied himself with redoubled diligence
to the studies which were, to him, the pre-
paration for a professional career. The
close of the summer vacation saw him re-
turning to his collegiate duties with renewed
zest, while his friend, Harry Eustace, had
already devoted his energies to commerce.
and. chained to a desk in the dingy office of
one of otir “tnerchtin-princes,” was fast ac-
qtiiring the knowledge of business which is
necessary to win a moderate degree of suc-
cess. It was a weary change to the young
ttspirant for fortune’s favor. I-leretofore he
had wandered in classic shades until his soul
became filled with the images ofbeauty. To
him, the labors of the intellect were as pas-
time. for he possessed the strength which
could wield the powerful weapons of science
as well as the delicate perceptions which
sieze and enjoy the most minute‘ charms in
the moral and physical world. He was a
poet, because,_in youth, the language of en-
thusiasm is always poetry, and a scholar,
because study has been the very element in
which helived. Now all such things were
put aside. His books were laid by forever,
his verses were condemned to the flames.
and Harry Eustace was only the active and
useful clerk.
Helen Hazlchurst was all that Eustace
had described hcr—a gentle, lovely, and
loving creature, full of kindly emotions and
innocent thoughts ;—-a being to be regarded
with tenderness for the weakness and help-
lessness of her relying character. Unfit for
the glaring sunshine ofgay life. and less able
to bear the cold blasts of misfortune, she
was like some rare exotic, which requires
alike a refuge from the storm, and a shelter
from the heat, ere its precious perfume re-
pays the care bestowed upon its culture.—
Her beauty was of that delicate character
which seldom outlasts extreme youth. Her
pure complexion was so faintly tinted with
the rose, her lips were so brilliant of hue,
her teeth so pearly white. and her figure so
exceedingly slender in its proportions. that
the eye of experience gazed on her with pity
as well as admiration ; for of such creatures
does consumption choose its most frequent
victims. Yet there was so much of the vi-
vidnt-ss of life in their changeful blush, _her
sparkling eye, her elastic step, and her little
form. that one forgot the frailty of her loveli-
ness in its wonderful brightness. Her voice
was one of unrivalled melody—its every
tone was musical, and her song was like the
warble of the forest bird. There Was 8.
frankness, too. in her manners, a joyousnesfl
in her looks,_,and a free grace in every ges-
1 fit .
'. :3‘
In the weary .
Norwalk Chronicler