_ paid on delivery of the work at
‘r-_ -\__..,_,\_,—\ ,\ ,—\ -._K\ .F*’ - '\.'\r\_»\,\,\/\(._V._ ., V, . .
NUMBER 397--N.El7\-’"
PLENTEFEL
rat the Qiilel S
Bldfiiiéiddil d. E
‘W
B
WIie§=e Qusteriier
from
\ G
For New Yen: I I
THE sloop JULIA has coin-
menced her regular trips and will
leave the Landing at Five Mile
River on Tuesday evening, 30th of
.Mai'ch, and New York on Siiturdziy, April 2d,
and will continue to sail on Tuesdays and Sat-
urdays of the season. Freightand produce will
be conveyed as usual on the most fzirorablc tcriiis.
For freight or passage apply to the captain on
board or at the store on the landing.
\V. C. SA} HIS.
Five Mile River, March ‘29th, 1847.
For New Yorlls.
REGULAR TRIPS FOR THE S ‘IASON.
HE Sloop VARY KVILLIS,
Capt, \Villis .I. lllerritt, hav-
ing commenced her regular trips
_. for t.he Season, will leave Norwalk,
East side the Bridge. every Tuesday Evening,
and New York every Saturday. _
Any one having biisiness with the Packet
Office during the absence of the vessel, may
apply at the Cabinet Shop of \Vaterbury 6;
Quintard, on the Dock.
NVILLIS J. MERRITT.
Norwalk, March 29. 1817.
Selleeks Line.
\Vest side he Bri<l3;,_:'e.
-\ THE Sloop Mary
, .,-.— . A. Selleck. Capt. Gru-
man, will coimueiice
3"} T“ her \Veekly Trips for ,.,,,,
New York on Tuesday the 16th of March, and
the Domestic, Capt. Merrill, on the Saturday
following N. SELLECK.
Norwalk, March 9, 1847.
l\'E\V CEROQIKEIEY
AT PECK’S BRANCII STORE.
UST Received a large and splendid assort-
ment. which will be sold cheap for Cash.
Oct. 13, 1846.
Wanted Inn med iately
2 0 More Shift Hands. The highest
prices in CASH or trade will be
l
l
I
1
lo-
"“<:§;:i ‘
M. VVAKi-:MAN’s
In the store formerly occupied by J. A. \Veed.
Norwalk. '
SPRING Aii-:iiurve.EIir*i.;N'n‘,
Commencing Sa.'urduy, Jlfarch bl/L, 1847.
PORT CHESTER, I-‘teem’ NECK,
s '1‘ AMP 013:) AND NOR WALK.
‘it.
CATALINE, Capt. Curtis Peek, Jr.
‘VVill leave New York from the Pier east side
Catharine Market Slip, as above every after-
noon, at. two o’clock, Sundays excepted. Re-
turning will leave Norwalk at seven o'clo zk,
Stamford at 8, Rocky Neck at lialfpast 8, and
Port Chester at quarter before 9.
Stages will be in readiness at the Landing to
convey passengers to \Vestport, Sout.hpIh't, Fair-
field, Bridgeport, Danbnry, Ridgefield, New-
Canaan and \Vilton.
§§.?°All persons are forbid trusting any indi-
vidual on account of this boat or her owners.
New York, March 6th, 1847.
Plows-—I-I:\LL’S ‘Premium Plows’
and Castings for sale by S. E. Oi.Ms'ri-:An-
A Kid G voes. '
fresh supply of those superior Kid Gloves
1-ec’d, at \VARD’S.
- Alpaca.
OTTON VVarp Alpaca, from 28 to 62 cts.
' pr. yd. Silk warp do. from 50 cts. to $100
at BISSELL dc MOODY.
Garden Seed.
HE subscriber has on hand a large quantity
of fresh Garden Seeds, comprisng assort-
.ments from all the Seed Gardens in this part of
the country, and warranted to be the growth of
last year. J. A. VVEED.
F LOUR.
——By the load or less quantity, at
OLMSTEAD’S.
.\ z-._, -_p x-
the ahiimlaiit steel" is
Puilbli
_z\ . - '*.’\."\a’\/'\—"\_"_"_/"‘\/‘./“./‘_I“.J .
SERIES.
CEEAPI
‘A
‘IV’ S
\-
49.-‘
6:31
ad of
(‘.3
stipplieti
ept Fey ‘
-r
E2 i'LAu“Iii I738? HE'S ('€PAL
:13 the Stewart: React E.::§2t‘.i:.:g
SOUTH N()R\V.~\LI{.
'5 l L. 6:. J". R. PECII will be discliargii:g
o this week a cargo of Superior Black-
sniItli’s Coal; those in want oftlie above Coal
will do well to call and exaiiiine the seine.
VEI IIE Sl‘ll)SCl‘ll.)(‘.l':il:‘iSjI1St1'CC(“l\'eCl large addi'
tional s‘llpplle.'~‘. of ii.A.ni)'w.-x.u.ia‘,‘ CUT-
LISRY, I‘IOLI.OXV-\VARI‘), GUNS, IRON
AND S'l'l.‘llCL, li‘ALMl£Il‘S UTEi\lSlLS,
PAINTS, OILS, \VlNDO\V-GLASS, &C.
which are offered either wholesale or retail at
the lowest New York prices.
\V. C. S'i'r.i-:i:'r.
l"Iorwalk, March 30, 1847.
B337 G~eee"*'i..=:~i
I
V'E1I:I“ subscriber hasjiist returned from New
. York with an entire iicw stock ofscason-
able gords suitable for the Spring trade, cm-
briiciiig as coinplctiiiiizil desirable assortment as
ever brought. into Fairlicld County.
Iain i'cceiviiig daily froiii my agent in N. Y.
the most desirable goods in the niarkct, bought
at auction and oftlie importers, which will be
sold on the most favorable terms for cash.
Please call and judge for yourselves.
\VM. J. FINCII.
lVestport,"Marcli:2f3tli, 1847.
H ' " ' F "II
yet is 1 s.
THE AMERICAN IMPROVED
Ii'{ygei'ian Vegi-tailble Medicine.
THESE Pills are one of the best Medical Com-
pounds in use at the present day. As a common
tiiniily physio, for aduiiiiistratoii in all temporary
complaints of the stomach and bowels, head-aclie,
colds, &.c. they may be fully depended upon, and ii
prompt use oftlicin on the first appearance of indis-
positioii will inv:ii'i:_ibly save innch sickness. Thcv
are peculiarly adapted to all cases of weakness and
generaldcbility—aiiy dcraiigeiiicnt of the system,
and especially with fenialcs-—aiid a steady, uiiintei'-
rupted use ol'_tlieui, in strict conformity with the di-
rections will very soon restore the organs of the
stomach to their niitiiral tone and action. and regu-
late the bowels. and renovate the whole systciii.
There is no disposition to give cxtraviigant com-
iiieiidatioiis of them. \Vliat is here stated, is the re-
sult ofactiial experience with them, and that llll‘()ll.'_’.ll
ii period offifteen years. It is notsiipposed.orpfe-
tended,that they will raise the dead! neither are
they designed to be used as we use our food! Such
is not the true purpose of medicine. Its only op-
proprizite office is to assist nature in rcstoriiig the
sy.-‘tein to a proper tone and action, when unavoid-
ably. or through carelessness or excess, it becoimgs
deranged. Many are careless and hence need this
aid. And the most careful areliahlc to ii'i'e,-gularities
ofthe system It is needless almost to say, that ii
prompt use of safe and effective remedies, on the
first appearance of illness, is the part of wisdom.
,- Such a Meiliciiic the Proprietor knows tlieso
Pills to be. And he is certain that in lorlv nine ca-
.=es out oflifty, where a fair trial is made flCfZ0l’(llllg to
the rlirections,they will be used again as a standard
medicine. He has never known an instance, where
they have been thus used, in which they have not
met with uiiqiialilicd approval!
Numerous testimonials may be seen at the general
Oflive of. sale, and references will be given to sub-
stantialliving ivitiiesscs of their valuable curative
properties.
'l.‘lie Pills are purely vegetable, are of two kinds.
stimulant and piirgativc. purifying the blood, and
prodnciiiga licaltliyactioii tlirougli the entire sys-
tem; are a valiiahle Anti Billions Medicine. and
eminently useful in allliiigcring coniplainls—Vl-"ciik—
ness, General Dcbility. Dyspcpsy. I’ulinonarv Af-
fections, Liver Complaints, Rlieuinatic and ‘Spas-
inodic Affcctioiis. Female Coiiiplaints. Palpitations.
N0_/'amll_1/, ct/Zcr (1 fair Ixria./,, will bcwillioutt/Lcm..
They are putup in FIFTY CIf‘.l\'T & DOLLAR
packages, each having a pliainplilct embracing a
valuable Treatise on Disease, with full directions for
use. The Dollar packages are the cheapest to the
piircliascr.
As you value I{e:3l_tEi—'l‘ry Them!
Sold l'Vhol‘csalc aml Retail at No. 140 Fulton
street, ‘.2(l floor, N. York, between Nassau and
Broadway, N. Y.
From a personal kiiowledge of‘, and use
of the above Medicine in my fainil_v.for about 15
years.I can coinineiid it in the lD0(-fl. unqualified
manner. PRICE.
Sold by NOAH S. BAILEY. west side the
Brldge. Norwalk: B. J. Daskam, Stamford, and
J. Beach, \Vall st. Bridgeport. 48
-X 5
llN(3'l]“Iz1l‘lSo—'-SOIIIO choice styles of
Scotch and French Giiihains are now of-
fered to the Ladies of Norwalk, also a beautiful
article of Ginghains at 12 1-2 cts. the yd. 1 yard
wide, by J. MALLORY <53 CO.
shed Every V5-’edries1lay ltiornir g, by JAIYIES REED,
re 7 i
POE I RY-
EVENING. I ,
Calm is the hour of dayliglit.’s close, '
\Vlien evening fades away;
‘Vile-n glimmering twilight scarcely shows ;
IVhei’e lingering shadows play. ‘
I
Silent and dark the forest-trees,
Silent the wild-bird’s notes;
No longer on the suinnicr breeze ;
Its blithesome music floats. ,’
Darkly the mountains o’cr the lakes
Their sombre shadows throw :
On high no screaming heron breaks
The quiet rest below. i
Silent the ocoan‘s calm rc.pose,
Quiet its sluinbei‘ing power; ‘
- At the sweet tiiiie of ci'eniiig’s close, I
At the soft nioonliglit hour. i
Now, Meditation ! ’tis the hour
W e own thy sol,-or sway: ,
Now lead us, by thy gentle power, ‘
To view lifc’s closing day. .
Soon shall we view life‘s sct.t:’.iig sun, l
Soon fool the coming night;
Teach us with zeal the race to run,
The battle bravely figlit. K/zic.’ccrboc/rev‘.
i3I;Li”Ai\i’Y. l
TI-ll‘) MARRIAGE CERTIFIC.-\TlS.
C()'uli71u€cl.
By the author of “The Groomsmaii," &c.
‘After the burial of Mr. Boyd, I rcpiiired to
C———-— and producing the requisite cviileiice '
of uiy authority, took cliarge of his d.-iiighlciu
I found her to be an iiitci'eslii'ig. and ccrtziiiily a
very pretty child. between four and live years
of age. She was in the care of her late niot.li-
er’s distant iclzitlvcs. I-for niotlior, you will
recollc<:t. I iiiforiiicd you died at the time of the
infant's birth. The little girl, young as she
was, and liable to first llllpl‘(‘.SSl0llS, had not, as,
it. appeared, formed any rooted afl'cc-lion for those 1
with whom she had liitherlo l'.vt~:d; but took
her seat at my side in the stage, upon the iiiorn-
in_;; of my return to the city, iot with rcliictiiizcc,
but with the [llt‘«'l:‘lll‘Ml.)l6 aiiticipations which
novelty will always excite in the youtli-'
fnll)reast. By the will which her iatl-iei' loft,
and which, as the date showed, had been oxe-
cutcd niore than a year before his death, he be-
queathed, with tho exception of ii few cliiirities,
his whole f0l'l‘Lll'l0 to her. She was consequently
ricli. To this will tlicrc vas a codicil. however,
dated but a short time previous to his deniise, l
in which I was nanied ‘cl.“_~ his daughtcr’s guar-
dian.
‘Vi r. Fleiiiiiig, the fiitlicr of my now no lon-
ger existing wife had died some time previous
to the deatli of his daughter, at the age of sixty-
live. He did not die so wealthy as was expect.-
ed; but what he did leave, which was consid— ,
arable, was entirely, save what was by lawf
sc<:ured.to the widow, bestowed upon his soii.l
Theresa was not even mentioned in the will. '
.‘\{1lllllSt- his ilaugliter, VIr. lfleming had stcelcd
his heart, and froin the night of our clopcincnt;
from that night. when he returned home baffled
in his pursuit.. lie disowiicd her; solemnly swore
never to i'c-ct-.ivc. her back, never to acklowcdgc.
her. Of her crime and connection with Mr.
Boyd, he never kiiew.
‘Tlic younger .I“le.iiiing, new master of liiiii-
solfand a fortune, launched out into the vortex
of dissipation and extravagance. His taste for
the allureinents of vice had so much increased
upon him within a year or two, that. it was no
longer sensual enjoyment. but a rooted passion.
\Vliile his father lived, he had controlled, or
rather managed to conceal the extent of his
vices; he now recklessly pursued his dirgrace
fiil career.
‘\Vith my new charge or pro(."g‘e upon my
hands, I commenced keeping house again.—
Though but twenty-four years of age, I enter-
tained not the most distant thonglit. of a second
tnul'l'lll_ge. Among the propcity which had
devolved to me by my uncle’s death, was a neat
and fasliionable house, in a retired and pleasant
part of the city ; this I furnished for the purpose.
A good housekeeper was now an important
requisite, and it iinrnediately occurred to me
that Susan, who had so sat.isfactorily filled that
ofiice for me at C might be induced to
resume it. She ‘as good-hearted, mid almost
her only faultwas her loqnacity. \Vhen Ibrokc
up at C , having no farther need of her
services, I presented her with a liberal sum of
money, and she reluctantly returned to the city,
since whicli I had not heard of her. I knew the
names of her relatives, however, and had no
doubt ofobtaining from them the requsite inform-
ation. I accordingly started for that part of the
city in which they resided, and called upon 1: n
aunt of Susan, by the name, or sobriqucl of Peg-
gy, as the person most likely to answer my
purpose.
‘Broaching the subject at once, I inquired
for Susan. ‘Does she live with you now,
madiim Cl’
‘\Vliat sir, Susan Baily, do you men ii ?’ said
the old woman, looking up to me iiiquisitively
1.hr()l,lgll a pair of rusted spectacles, which
had the appearance of being even older than
herself‘.
I assented.
‘Slie—oli, she’s married,’ continued the old
woman ; ‘it’s better than a twelve-month, now.
She married \Villiam Davis, who used to live
with Mr. Fleming, the inerchant, that died
some time ago.’ But the match don’t tnrii out
so well as we expected—_—her niaster; she lived
with a Mr. Barry, poor gentleman! his .wife
left him for another man; but perhaps you’ve
heard of it I’
‘ ‘Yes,’ I answered with a sharp accent, and
a look of chagrin, ‘yes, I have heard of it.’—
Neither the accent or the look, however, was
observed by the dame, who continued,—‘a
shame it was, so badly to use so good a gentle-
man Susan tells me he was one of the best
of husbaiids—-but it’s the way with some
women, they’re never contented——they won’t'l’nieans, is unfortunately
let well alone. I should like to kuow——t.hat is,
I wonder what has become of the unfortunate
woman.’
‘This digression, as you will readily conjec-
ture. was by no means pleasant to me, but cir-
cumstances necessitated me to humor it, and
I answered briefly, solemnly, ‘she is dead.’
‘Dead !’ startled, and with a shrill.'disagreea-
ble voice—'dead!’ she echoed, again peering
up through her spectacles, with an anxious
and enquiring look at‘ inc,---already gone I’
‘I repeated it. ‘Yes. Theresa. Barry, the
young and beautiful, is dead.’
“Is it possible! dead! and so young, too!’
5 villiout leaving \7v'illiain a cent, while you’vc
JUNE
23.
again articulated Pegzy, in a kind of superan-
uatcd reverie, with a lacadaisical shzike of the
head, as raising her foot against. the chair-round,
while dropping her elbow upon her knee and
«resting her chin in the palm of her hand, she l ,, ,
,‘ . . . ,. . L
;drew a long sigh for the frailty and foliies oi pm”
human nature: ‘And poor Mr. Barry, too !’ she
resumed, ‘Susan tells ine«lie’s a fine inau——il‘s
ii pity, it’s a pity !’
‘Here I was at less for a response, and to ;
evade a reply, begaii to cough. Her next ques— ’
tion astonished nio.
‘ ‘Did you know Mr. Barry, sir?’
‘I responded, ‘yes, I kne.v him,’ and managed
A witliout being constrained to make inysclfknown, ;
gto turn the tli'.‘ft of the coiiversation into anotherf “-113C}, com,-fined M,-, B,“-yy and ‘n.V'sejf' were
channel. ,
‘ ‘Mr. Biirry, you see, sir, when he broke,
up liousekeeping,’ said I’oggy, ‘gave Susan aj
tliousand dollai's-—what docs slie do but come
back to the city. aiiil, as I told ye before, got‘
m:irrici.l to Bill Davis, who wasn’t the man we
took hiiu for. llo soon made way with all her
nioney. and now it’s gone, he's obliged to work
for a living, which he don’t like-——lie'd ratlicr
be idling about a l2lV'(.'l'll ; and latterly. between
you and I, sir, lie driiil-Ls like a fish. Susan,
however, is an lioiicst woiiian, 2l.’:.'(_l keeps a good
lieart.——slie's got the prettiest little baby, sir, I
ever laid eyes upon.’
‘At length, after ii tedious, anrl roundaboiit,
way et'_::_e‘iti:ig at it, I obtained troiii Peggy the
nccessai'_v l.’lll)l‘lll2lLlOll, and directe::l my steps
towards the dwelling of her niece. Siisan Baily
that was, now Mrs. D.ivis. I found lierseated,
liunimizig a tune, sewiiig, and rockiiig a cradle
with hi-r foot. I-Ior iziisl'oi'tunes, of which the
aim‘. had spoken, did not sci.-in to have affected
her much. lft'lici'c was any cliaiigo it was for
bcitei', as it l‘Uglll'Llt‘d pcr.~:on:il zipg;-e:ii'iiiice, lor
she SUU‘.lIt."'.l more lilooiiiiiig‘, and better looking
than ci.'ei‘. The siglilof ino ucttul upon her’
ire;-vcs like an electric shock. ‘Oh, my dear
Mi‘. l3ziri'_v!’ she exclaiineil, ‘you ciiift think
how glad I am tosee you! \7‘i*'li;.', how did you
know tli.il; I was licrel’
‘I replied that her iiunt. had informed me.
‘ ‘Aunt Y’ slie ri-,pc.:i‘.cd, with a good-huinor.~d .‘
smile, ‘aunt—-wliich aunt. '!
not Il’ml'£-..’
‘ ‘Your aunt Peggy,‘ I ansiverod, while with
girlish activity, she liandeil me a chair. and up-
pea red as tliouglitlcssly happy as over.
‘ ‘So, find you are uiarried since I saw you
last,’ said I, ‘your aunt told me of it.’
‘ ‘Yes, sir, \Villiaui wanted me. and begged ?
so hard that it wasn't in my heart to l'(‘_l(‘.Cf,l'lllll,’i‘
slie i'eplied——‘and how sorry he is,’ she added, ,
that he iiiiide himself busy about your :lllilll'S,
when you iiiari'iod Miss Tliei°esa——t.lioiigli that!
was my fault; like a silly wonian, as I was, I!
couldn’t keep a secret. Old Fleiniiig died
been so good as to give me a thousand dollars.’
‘ "\Vliicli, as your aunt told me, and I was
S0l‘l‘yl0l1(.‘.Zl1'll, your husband has already prodi-
gally spent,’ said I.
‘-Did aunt tell you Illlll".I—-Ill!-3 envious old
maid !’ exclaimed Susan; ‘when I got iiiziri-ied, i
she opposed it, telling me a single life like -
liers was better---but no, I had no notion of
leading apes.’
‘ ‘But wliat your aunt says-—-i
inquired.
She shrugged her shoulders as a I<‘renchmaii
would-do, and admitted that; it was-—-‘tliat \Vil—
liain had been iulucky.
“l\I2ii'i'i:ige, then,‘ I observed, ‘has cost you a ;
little, and brought. you nothing.
“No ;’ she rejoined farclily;
pretty eyes sparkled with pleasure---it has
brought me something---that‘---pointing to tliei
cradle. |
‘I smiled at her pleasaiitry. remarked that I I
was glad to see her so happy, and requested a
sight of the cradle’s occupant, which the quilt
being removed, proved to be a fine little boy, in
a sound sleep.
‘ ‘How old is he I’ I asked.
‘She answered, ‘six months.’
‘In the course of furtherconversation, I learnt
that her husband intended removing to the
\Vest, and that very probably they should start
in the following spring. This, at. once, put an
mid to my prospects of Susan for n.llOuS9li(’e}')C1',
and the younger Davis, having concluded his
nap, began to iiiake himself lieard, so, bidding
her good bye, with the promise of calling again
soon, I left.
‘ ‘So,’ thought I, ‘here’s a confirmation that
riches is not happiness.’ -
‘I was consequently obliged to look out for
another person to fill the station which I had
designed forber; having procured one, forth-
with went to hoiisekeeping.
‘During this time Arthur Fleming had spent
his fortune and (‘led from the country in debt.
The rcctor’s dauglitcr was growing up in health
and beauty, and I neglected no means that could
possibly tend to advance the cultivation of her
mind. Music, dancing and the clef,-ancies of
refinement she was an apt admirer of and very
readily acq..?.rcd. On-—-on, went the time ;
ycar succeeded ycar--twelve years had elapsed,
and Louisa was now seventeen. I had become
surrounded with acquaiiitauccs and frioiids, the
politics of my country enlisted much of my at-
tention, and I was both interested and involved
in the affairs of men. The entliusiasm and
poetry of youthful life had lost most oftheir
cliarins for me, as is ever the case as we grow
old--—age and worldly experience extracts from
us the natural, and substitutes, for young warm
feelings, cold and artific al apliorisins.
Time passed on. Louisa was now in her
twentieth year---suitors for her hand throngcd
in abundance, but. none met with favour, till
you, Mr. I'I.'il‘l‘lSUll, accidentally bccaiiie an ac-
quaintance. VVhat has since occui'i'cd in_ re-
gard to Mrs. Fleming,_who expired last night,
you are aware of. Ten heard that \voman’s
strange language in relation to my adopted
daughter. She thought, although I frequently
3 it true ?‘ I
while her
married to her own daughter, and that Louisa
was the offspring of t.hat supposed illicit connec-
tion. To my repented asseverations that it was
not so, her constant cry was, ‘show me the
marriage certificate.’ This paper by some
not in my possession.
\Vhether destroyed or not it is impossible for
me to tell. How lost. or when I am equally
unconscious of-—-all 1 know is that I have it
not.’
‘But,’ said I, perceiving that Mr. Barry was
about to finish, ‘what became of Arthur
Fleming? You stated that he fled from the
country---have you never heard of him since I‘
‘Yes, the last report of him was that he had
returned to the United States and was in the
city of New Orleans pursuing the precarious
and disl1oi:iora'ole career of a gamester.’
18
l Barry.
I’vo a dozen, if-
explainoi the contrary, that I was never legally .
at Two Dollans Pe'r Annurn in Advance.
\-"\/ \«"\/‘x/‘ er-,r-_/--r \.- s.r"-f‘~/‘-"‘-"\/'\ "~-’\ -’\'\I" .r\./ \-Fv‘~_/\.-‘J \/\/‘~ *1 I‘./._r .,-\z~./~ ,'\f\.fx/\/\/K '\z\.—.,-.,,\/./—. /,_,\ ‘ ,\_,-\,—\,-_,-\,-\/\/\_/\/\.‘\/\/-\'\r\.*\/‘\,-\,"\/ \ ~ ,»\/\_,-_,-\,-._,-a _ .,_,-\,‘/\_,_
NORVVALK, CT. VVEDNESDAY.
-11 7.
tion during his recital. It was after midniglit
when he finished, andl accepted his invitation
to remain until morning.
C1l.~1I"l‘1~‘.R vi.
pen his brow no outward pzmioii spoke,
i his large eye no fl i.-hing anger broke;
Yet. there was soinctliiiig fix’d in ‘that low tone.
Wliich slim-v’d resolve, detcruiincd, tho’ unknoivn ”
BYRON.
The funeral of Mrs. Fleming took place the
second morning subsequent to the night of her
decease. I attended it in company with Mr.
There were a few followers to the
grave —-she had died in obscurity, and the hearse
that bore the body, together with the c:ii‘i~i:ige.
the only vehicles present. A display of empty
carriages at a funeral is one of the gin-.atesL fol-
lies that ever the vanity of mankind resoited to.
Small as it was, as the train issued from the
alleyiiito the street, it had iin iinposiiig ellhct;
and the clouded atinosphere, reiideied addition-
iillv dull by the drizzling of a slight rain, added
its gloom and t.ll'Ci11'lllL'S:$ to the melancholy scene.
Arrived at the ceiuetr_v, we wound slowly
through the mounds and white toinb stones scat-
tered 0\’ul' the field, to where the yellow soil
had recently been upturned, and the opening
yawnod to receive its dead. Pickaxc, shovels
and spade were lying on the ground ; and, with
faces solemn for the occasion, the grave diggers
i'(5ll'llalll(3:l in readiiiesis to lower the coffin into
its rc: ting place. The weeping one was the
f:iitlil"ul Catliarine, who shed tears of synipatliy
without the alloy of lXltCl'C.SleLlliOSS. Others
secincd sorroivful. but theirs was merely the
sc.tnl)la.l}Ce of grief, the sorrow that we all nat-
urally feel in connection \ 'ith our tliouglits when
a fellow-being departs from among us in ll :2.
The niiiiistcr of God, who attended upon the
occasion, delivered a short but impressive lioin—
ily and addressed a fervent prayer to the throne
of the Dc-.it_‘-,'. As is customary, oneafter anoth-
er approachcd the side of the grave to take a
last look before the heavy clod witli its hollow
sound should fall upon the coffin lid, among the
rest Mr. B.ir:'y, whose feelings all gushed to his
heart at that moment.
At this junctiire too appeared auotlier at the
side of the grave-—a strziiigoia
llis large form was enveloped iiitliccripacis-iis
widih ofa cloth cloak. His r'=g‘.it foot rest:-.:l
upon the lieap of soil destined to cover tlic‘
corspc, and his keen eyes—dark and brilliant,
v.'ei‘e steadfastly fixed upon the much less de-
l()l‘lilli'lC.Ll gaze of Mr. Barry who seoincd lost.
in amazement, confused, and wavering between
inccititutle and coiiliriiiation. The lzzblcaii, as
it thus presented itself, forcibly reminded me
of l.'I.lll’lllC‘.f and Lacrtes at the grave of the un-
fortunate, the lamented, Ophelia, and my active
iinagiiiation immediately embodied the grouping
before me with the cl:ai'actcrsand scenic pathos
of Sii:ikspe'ivo’s draiaa. '
The strung r, us by i:iag':c,had suddenly mer-
ged from the group around the grave; and the
eyes ofzill, as a matter of course, were at once
arrested by his iiiiloolaed for pl'é'St‘.ll(.‘(“., his singu-
lar deportmont at a ccreirioiiy which tzliey had
asseiiibled reverontially to honor.
‘W'l'iiit do you hcai‘,’ he exclaimed, with a
stern and loud voice, but the tones of which
seciiied subdued in a slight. degree will) emotion.
‘\\7liat do you here. \Valtcr l3ari'y—you——at
/ier funeral .' It ill bccoines the man such a man
to weep at his vlctim’s burial I’
This was strange language, and the excited
curiosity ofthe crowd i. 'as evident in the anxious
‘endeavors of male and feniale to get nearer the
speakei', as they eagerly grouped close around
him.
,She’ continued the stranger, ‘who in life
owed all liergriefto you, must as it seenis ha"e
lior iiioinory insulted too by your pi-est-iice.
\Vliile friends are paying at her grave the last
sad tribute of humanity, here too are you! You
came in your carriage too, ostensibly to parade
your hypocritical sorrow, whilst huniblcr and
sincerer friends came here on foot to mourn and
shed the tear of sympathy.’
‘Mistaken man I’ audihly .inurinured Mr.
Barry whose varying countenance, now flushed,
now pale, exliibiled the agitation ofhis iiiind.
".\’Iistakcn !’ echoed the stranger, ‘mistaken !’
and a significant smile passed over his counte-
nance. ‘No !’ he vociferatcd——‘tis you thatiire
deceived.’ Suddenly subduing the tones of his
voice, ‘my sister, sir! my sister!’ miiitetlly
and with pathos lie niuriiiui'ed, ‘where is she 1’
oh, where ! Alas! she sleeps within the grave,
the grave, her only refuge from the world‘s cold
scorn, her only solace for a broken heart! And
now—aiid now—my mother too!’
Fora moment, burying his face in his hands,
he paused with emotion.
‘Oh, friends!’ he resumed, ‘you that stand
mute and wondeii ig around me, know that I
had a sister once, a gci;tle,.being, all loveliness
and beauty; the rose leaf was not fairer—iio,
nor ocean pearls l‘i‘.O'.'6 pure than she; but the
destroyer came, he came, and blighted all.’
Here, advancing to the verge of the grave, he
uncovered his head and, rovercntly gazing down
into the chasm, with a clioaked and difficult ut-
terance, exclaimed, ‘my mother! alas ! alas!
farewt-ll .’ I know then caust not hear me now,
but farewell! No husband, child or relative,
was at thy side when dying. but lonely and des-
olate, strangers closed thine eyes and stiangors
too have buried t-lice ! A long, a List farewell 3’
So saying. without a threat or further epithet,
he turned upon his licel, pushed through the
bystanders and stalked towai'ds the gate of the
cenieiry; the eyes of all followed himtill he is-
sued through the gate and disappeared.
Mr. Barry made not the explanation to the
crowd which they evidently expected ; lie ut-
tered not a word, but, followed by me, silently
l'('t:l!'llC(l to his cai'ri-age’.
This tlienwas ArtliurI’leming, the son ofher
who had just been consigned to the grave, of
whom she had spoken upon the night ofher de-
cease, as still surviving to avenge her own and
her daughter’s injuries; and was doubtless the
person who that same night had caused the
alarm of Louisa at the door of Mr. Barry's
dwelling.
\Vhile in the carriage and returning fiom the.
burial. Mr. Barry sat back with folded arms ab-
stracted in deep thought. I did not interrupt
his reverie, but, as we rolled on, revolved in my
mind the remarkable and unexpected appear-
ance of the stranger at the intermei t, the re-
markable language that he made use of there.
and his equally abrupt and mysterious depar-
ture. It seemed more like the cre:-.ti0n of a
dream than reality. more like the probable but
fictitious and exaggerated portraiture of a nov-
elist or romance writer. Itseemed stiange,
-oo, indeed strange, that Mr. Barry should suf-
fut‘ hiinsclfto be publicly accused as he had
men, without offeriiig a word of either 'refuta-
rion or retc-rt.
Thus ended Mr. Barry’s Tl8l'l‘P.l.lVt‘, the inter-
est of which had "irresistibly chained my atten-
He had even seemed to sl1i'irk, as if guilty,
"‘ ’‘ -‘’‘-’\/\ “‘\ "-’ ~J‘."../‘ ~./\.»* ~ r\./- .-\z\r\,\/‘J‘»r‘.r\/\r\/\J\(
VOLUME 3Q-*NUl‘»Il3 E R 25.
b"'f‘”e Elle h‘lU§Il!i.\.' gaze of Ai-flier Fleming.
C°'~lld it lit‘. that after all, his narritive was
merely a well wi-ouglittale well told and calcu-
lated to impress the li,earei'wiih its truth, but
in fact no more than a cloak ol'd'i_sgui3e? Could
ll; be? I'I8.Cl he indeed beeif the author of thg
sorrow and shame imputed to him, of which
both mother and son had accused him——tlie for-
mer on her death be-d,.the latter at his moth-
or’s grave!
Two evenings sulsoquentto the day, of the
funcral—--(so says iiiyjournal, kept as the inci-
dents occurred '-at the time, and from which I
extract that which I am laying before the road-
er in the form of a talu)—--two evenings subse-
quent to the day of the funeral, Louisa and I
were present at a vci~_v large public assembly in
coiiiincinoration of an iinportaiit national ovhnt.
The dancing had commenced. Exercise and
the glow of excitement had flushed the fair
checks of beauty. Louisii, among the rest, was
as happy as the bird of summer. chanting its
carol responsive to nature's universal song. At
the teriniiiiition of the cotillion in which I had
been her partner, my brother Lewis approach-
ed us. with, to my zisloiiishgneiit, no other than
Arthur l¥‘leming leaiiing upon his arm. [This
was st.raiigo—-in such uplace so soon Lifter his
. mother's death ! It siii-prised mc.]
An introd uction nnsue=:l,l.iy which Louisa and I
were forinally made acquainted with the man
who had so singularly presented himself at the
internient of his mother, two days previous.
Ills manners were easy, elegant-ontiroly
lcharacteristic of a gentleman accustomed to the
ltone of good society. Ila asked Louisa, if not
pi'eviously engaged. for the pleasure of dancing
with her in the next cotillion. [1 was still
more .~u:-piised to perceive that he could partici-
pate in the dance.] She accepted his hand as
a matter of courtesy, and I sought another part-
nei'. Lewis strolled to fl different part of the
saloon.
I-le;o was more mystery! I-low came Lewis
in the coiiipiiny of Mr. Fleniiiig? So intimate
as they seemed, too? ‘\Vli-at train of circum-
stances,‘ thought I, ‘has combined to bring
these two together?’ Casting my eyes towards
the cotillion, in which my new acqiiaintiince
was dziiiciiig with Louisa, I could but contrast
his lively ciinntenance and vivacity, with his
l stern lock and majestic deportmentat the g ‘ave,
only two days previous.
At tli-.,e cazicliision of the next Cotillion, wish-
lug to speak with my brotlier, I went round the
roo.-ii in search of him.
Lewis was my elder by several years-—an
only brother, and the favorite of our parents.
who took no pains to conceal their preference
from my sister and iiiyself. He was a liand-
somc, manly looking person, with not a bloom-
ing, but a flushed countenance, light hair, in-
cliiied to curl, and eyes ofa beautiful cerulean.
My sister, youngest of the three, resembled
him very closcly——tlie same eyes and the same
shade ofliair, but the bloom of health glowed in
her cheeks. and not the flush of dissipation. A
slight tiiige of sadness pervaded his disposition ;
an inclination to thought, which delicate as the
incarnation of a rose leaf, imparted to her beau-
ty additional charms ; and intellectual superior-
ity, like the lingering refulgence of sunset as it
blends with twilight upon the sky, rendered
beauty more beautiful. She was a being to be
loved !
Lewis was emphatically what we term a man
oftlie world ; he had traveled much and mingled
in every variety of life, in every made of society.
Ellen, on the contrary, had scarcely ever emer-
ged froin the precints of home; with fasliiona-
ble folly she had never mingled, but of choice
had resisted its allurenients, and her nature was
conseqiiently not sophisticated with its vices.
Iloine hadbeen all-iii-all to her; home, where
surrounded with the elegancics of domestic life,
like the bee sipping honey from tho flower, she
had extracted from music, poetr ', light litera-
ture and the fine arts, refinement without embi-
bing their too often objectionable qualities.
My own personal appearance and character,
com, arzitivcly speaking, was something between
the two. I had darker hair than them, and not
the same floridity of countenance; though there
was a strong resemblance between the three
of us, I by no means bore the resemblance to ei-
ther which they did at one another. My char-
acter, too, was essentially different from theirs
---it was a medium, partaking of Lewis’ vivacity
and Ellens’ retenue, but in which the qualities
of both were so blended that neither was of it-
self often distinguishable.
After searching around the saloon, I at last
found Lewis in one of the dressing rooms, stan-
ding before a full length toilet glass. adjusting
the curls of his hair. His back was towards
me, but perceiving my approach reflected in the
mirror, without desisting or turning his head, he
commenced---‘t.hat’s a fine girl, that Miss Barry
of vonrs, George. Every timeI see her my
adfniration increases. Her father, I hear, is
very rich.’ _ ,
‘She is rich hersclf—-independent of her
father’ I answered.
‘Is she, so much the better! I hear you're
engiigcd to be inari-‘ed to her, are you '1’
‘Excuse me,’ said I, ‘if I decline answering
you at present.’
‘Certainly, certainly. But your declining to
answer is a proof that you are. \Vell, marry
her, make her Mrs. Harrison, say I ; she’s 11
fine girl, and I shall be proud of such asister-in
l.iw. She dances like a sylpli---such ease and
grace-—such a charming little foot, and such an
ankle! There‘s nothing of a woman, be she ever
so handsome, lhatl admire more than a well
turned ankle, and a neat foot——marry her.
George, if only for these.’
‘F ie, brother,‘ you would not advise me to
marry a womauwith no other recommendation
than a symmetrical foot and ankle, would you ?’
‘Not exactly ; but Miss Barry has the Charms
of ii pretty face in addition to these, and yousay
she is rich; the last is the’ greatest C0n5ld8T!1~
iion. So by all means 1 charge you to marry
her. Don’t let the opp_ort.unity slip, I pray you,
as I once did when I trifled with the affections
of Miss Goldfinch. the heiress, who eventually
discarded me.‘ Time and tide wait for no man.
says the proverb; and Shakspeare, you know.
says something about a flood-time leading on to
fortune. I don't precisely remember the words
of the author. But marry her, George; “put
money in thy purse,‘ as Iago tells the silly Rod-
erigo in the play. There are three of us, you
know, to share what father leaves; and conse-
quently, an advantvgeous marriage is,a_ d°9ll'fi°
ble object to either. I have siiico-{frequently
regretted the loss of Miss Goldlinch’s fortune.
and should another such prize preiscnt itself in
the lottery of marriages, I shall know how to
clppl‘C-cltlte it. Experience is indeed the best
tutor.‘
‘You quote proverbs,j said I; ‘Che:-;terf"ield
consi-‘lewd them vulgar.’
Norwalk Chronicler