PUBLISHED EVERY T UESDAYMORN IN G BY _ NORWAL K- GAZ E .A. H. BYINGTON 8t 00., AT TWO DOLLARS PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE “:3 NUMBER 77 3--N EW SERIES, NORWALK, CONN., TUESD AY, OCTOBER 28, 1862. g gumilg glimmer, gutted to final @3105 and gnome, 6mm goddamn, gimme, griffin, gamma”, animus, tt.---®stuh1isttaiu 13ml. voLUME XLV--NUMB ER 43. NORWALK GAZETTE. OFFICE IN GAZETTE BUILDING. A. K. BYINGTON & CO. A. H. Bvrxerox, J. B. ELLs, G. N. ELLs- ____._._..______ Subscription Rates. All Subscribers by Carrier, Mail, Post Riders and W oners, per year . , . Those’living out of any Carrier’s District, if paid one year in advance, Clubs of six or more sent to one address, to be aid in advance, P 1 50 Single copies 4 cents. Advertising Rates. One Square, one insertion, “ ~ two insertions, “ three insertions, “ one month, two months, three months, six months,_ . one year—mthpaper Two Statutes, one year—With paper, Each, ditional Square, per year, One half column, one year, One Column, one year, . Fifteen lines, or 100 words,make a square. Fraction- al arts of a square charged for as a whole. . Year ’ advertisers have t e privnege of changing ' theft: advertisements once per month. .Advertise meats chan ed oftener charged as transient. Yearly advertisements payable 1st of January do July. Y'earlyadvertisers restricted to the business contem- plated at the time of contract. Cards, Resolutions, Funeral and all other Special No- tices 25 per cent. additional on the above. w“ These terms will be inflexibly adhered tag CD Clarion-Hahn: SSSSSSSSSSSE seas BUSINESS DIRECTORY. v (\uwxmm NVV Norwalk Post Office.- MAILS CLOSE. West 7.30 A. M.—2.30 P. M. East 8.30 A. M.——5.00 P. M. Danbury & Norwalk Railroad 8.50 A. M. Weston, Bedding and Bedding Ridge, '1 ues- days, Thursdays and Saturdays, at 12 M. NAILS DUE. West 9.10 A. M.—6.00 P. M. East 8.20 A. M.—-3.30 P. M. Danbury & Norwalk Railroad 8.00 A. M.’ POST OFFICE HOURS. From 7.00 A. M. to 8.00 P. M. CHARLES OLMSTEAD, r. M. as. A. mosnrhiv. m. 1)., Homoeopathic Physician and Surgeon, Office over C. J. Grumnn’s Store, NORWALK, CONN. Oflice hours from 1 to 3 P. M. New, usnnwm a PAINT STORE, M a i n S t r e e t, Opposite I. H. Campell’s Confectionery, MARVIN a rnowrr'r, Wholesale and retail Dealers in Hardware, Cutlery, Paints, Oils, Glass, Paper Hang- ings, Window Shades, &c. ROOFING SLATE, From Vermont, VERY CHEAP, At South Norwalk by H. E. WING. Tun ALLIS HOUSE, (formerly Union House,) Opposite N. Y. a N. H. Depot, in Union-st, New Haven, Conn. ‘ L. P. ALLIS, Pnornmron. JAMES G. 3533033, SURGICAL AND MECHANICAL D 'E N '1' I s '1', Office at Residence, East Avenue,’Norwalk, Con "ecticut. , Architecture. IIDNE! M . STONE , . . ARCHITECT, Will furnish Plans, Specifications, Detail Drawings, and superintend the erection of public and private buildings. Office in Mar- ble Block, Chapel-st, New Haven, Ct. tfb2 EO. F. BELDEN, Norwalk, Conn.,Mau- 1‘ ufacturer of Tin, Copper, and Sheet Iron Ware; and dealer in Stoves, Ranges, Furnaces, Cutlery, Brittannia, Wooden and .Willow Ware, Crockery; and a full assort- ment of House Keeping articles generally. a. s. nocnwoon, Fashionable Draper & Tailor, and GENTLEMEN’S FURNISHING EMPOBIUM I No. 8 Skiddy’s Block, Main-st, Norwalk, Ct '13. n. onus-ran a co., Wholesale and Retail Dealers in Groceries, Flour, Peed, dc, 14 and 16 Main-st, N orwalk, Conn. ETNA INSURANCE COMPANY, _ 01' Hartford. - Incorporated in 1819, Charter Perpetual. 09-h Capital $1,000,000 Insure against loss and damage by Fire, on Terms adapted to the hazard,and consistent with the laws of compensation. GEORGE E. COWLES, Sqle Agent rye ‘ For Norwalk and vicinity. War Claims. THE undersigned, through .the agency of reliable. friends in Washington, 18 re- ared to secure Bounty Money, Back ay, ensidus, and claims of all kinds against the Government. Charge for collecting from two to five per cent. No charge Will be made for advice given in relation to claims, and no fee charged unless the claimls col- lected. JOSEPH W. WILSON. Aug. 22, 1862. A. JACKSON & 330. No. 1 Gazette Building. ‘N 7 OULD respectfully announce to the ‘ public and their old customers, that they have recently made extensive additions to their stock of goods. We are now prepar- ed to offer an assortment not to be surpassed in Fairfield County, in quality or price. We would call particular attention to our stock of Watches, which is lar er than ever before.— We have a fine lot of adies’ Swiss Watches, in gold cases, at prices varying from $20 to $75, which we can recommend as bein r cor- rect time keepers. Also, Gentlemen’s atch- es, in silver and gold cases, at any price from . 5 to $-00. We buy of the best importers in new York, and altogether for cash, so that Our facilities for selhng cheap could not be ter. Our stock of Jewelry, Silver and med Wares was never better than at pres- ent. and comprises all or the latest styles that are manufactured. A. JACKSON do BRO. Carts and Wheelbarrows, FOR Children, sold by C. do E. K. LOCKWOOD & CO. a“ The following beautiful adaptation of “Mary- land, my Maryland,” appears in the Newbern (N. C.) Progress, an unconditional Union paper :— A few days since we published a Secession poem “My Maryland," as a specimen of the literary and rebellious tastes of the Secessionist. Since that time, the invasionpf Maryland has effectually sub- stantiated the position of that State, as one most Riyal. Today we give a new and correct version of “ yMaryland.” as rendered by one of the gallant defenders of our country’s star bespangled ensign. We commend “Fair Maryland" to the attention of our readers, and hope that "Idlewild” will continue his contributions :— Maryland, Fair Maryland. BY IDLEWILD. Columbia greets her daughter true. Maryland, Fair Maryland. To thee a nation’s praise is due, Maryland, Fair Maryland, For thou hast made the traitor rue The hour he placed his hopes on you, And hurl’d him from thy hills of blue—- Maryland, Fair Maryland. Oh, proudly liit'thy loyal crest, Maryland, Fair Maryland, For nobly hast thou borne the test, Maryland, Fair Maryland, The gem, the traitor sought to rest Fair Liberty, God’s own bequest— Still brightly decks thy loyal breast, Maryland, Fair Maryland. .~ Thy noble head triumphant raise, Maryland, Fair Maryland, Accept a nation’s grateful praise, Maryland, Fair Maryland, For thou hast shunned Rebellion’s ways, And turned thy face with welcome gaze To bask ’neath Freedom’s holier rays, Maryland, Fair Maryland. In sorrow bows a nation’s head, Maryland, Fair Maryland, A tribute to thy noble dead, Maryland, Fair Maryland, But now the trait’rous foe has tied, Thou’lt feel no more a despot’s tread, And Peace will o’er thee blessings shed, Maryland, Fair Maryland. And when our States united are, Maryland, Fair Maryland, When Peace nsurps t e place of war, Maryland, Fair Maryland, Then—through the red lips of each scar, Thy deeds shall beam more glorious far Than shines the beauteons Evening Star, Maryland, Fair Maryland. W A Picture. [man wrruan Sweet child, I prithee stand, While I try my novel hand At a portrait of thy face, With its simple childish grace. Cheeks as soft and finely hued As the fleecy cloud imbued With the roseate tint of morn Ere the golden sun is born :— Lips that like a rose-hedge curl, Guarding well the gates of pearl, -—-What care I for pearly gate 17 By the rose-hedge will I wait :— Chin that rounds with outline fine, Melting ofi‘ in hazy line; As in misty summer noon, Or beneath the harvest moon, Curves the smooth and sandy shore, Flowing off in dimness boar:— Eyes that roam like timid deer Sheltered by a thicket near, Peeping out between the boughs, Or that, trusting, safely browse :— Arched o’er all the forehead pure, Giving us the prescieuce sure of an ever-growing light ; As in deepening summer night, Over fields to ripen soon Hangs the silver crescent moon. —A(lantic Monthly, November. - ' ¢<.>s “Nothing but Leaves.” Nothing but leaves ; the Spirit grieves Over a wasted life ; Sin committed while conscience slept, Promises made but never kept. Hatred, battle and strife; Nothing but leaves! , Nothing but leaves : no garnered sheaves Of life’s fair, ripened grain; Words, idle words, for earnest deeds : We sow our seeds—lo! tares and weeds; We reap with toil and pain Nothing but leaves. Nothing but leaves; memory weaves No veil to screen the past; As we retrace our weary way, _ ‘Connting each lost and misspeut day We find sadly at last Nothing but leaves. And shall we meet th’ Master so, Bearing our withered leaves ? The Saviour looks for perfect fruit— We stand before Him humbled, mute ; Waiting the words He breathes— “Nothing but leaves.” .‘..‘.._.~._ [Q‘The Herald well says: "It seems strange, and yet it is a remarkable fact, that scarcely any notice is taken by the people of the brilliant movements of our own cavalry, whereas, if Stuart or,.Fitz or around our camps, an outcryis made against our generals,and the rebels praised up by both abolitionists and secessionists. When Stuart made his raid upon Cham- bersburg the people could talk of noth- ing else for a week; but the movements of our general Pleasantou’s cavalry are scarcely spoken of by them. Again the dash of our cavalry into Halltown, Fair- fax Court House, Frederick, upon the rebels at Williamsburg, and many other places into the midst of the rebels, scarce- ly excites any comment'hile the two raids of Stuart’s cavalry are everlasting- ly thrown up as specimens of rebel su- periority and inferiority of our forces and generals and cavalry.” O DANIEL WEBSTER IN HIS Corns.— When the body of Col. Fletcher Webster was laid by the side of his father at Marsha field, the box containing the great states- man's coffin was opened, and the metallic cover of the glass removed. How were the feelings of those persons stirred with- in them to find those lineaments and fea- tures, which no man ever looked upon to forget, retaining the same color and im- press—natural as when, ten ‘years ago, they gave up to the grave. The eyes were more, sunken but the heavy brows were always there in life. Even in death, and for a decade the cap- tive of the grave, that kingly presence in- spires the same reverence and speechless awe as when in the living temple of his matchless mind. Said one who looked upon hisface again,“I forgot all else, and cannot tell you anything of the tomb or surrounding objects.” The velvet pull, with its rich embroidery, was in perfect preservation, though deprived of its prim- itive gloss. In silence the lid was dropped, and the box reclosed. Farewell, thou great departed! Earth’s communion with the is over. No more shall human eye behold that face over which thought and feeling once flashed the light and shade of that “imperialmind.” Rest, noble statesman, with thy patriot sons . Thy memory still lives, enshrined in a nation’s admiration and gratitude—Plymouth Rock Hugh Lee should dash upon our outposts - THE COUNTRY coUsIN. BY S. If. HUMPHREY. “How provoking!” cried the gay and beautiful Emily Howard, as she threw aside a. letter she had been reading, “on- ly think to be bored for a. whole fort- night, by a vulgar country cousin, and that too, during the gay season; 0 deer! what will the Wilmots think? But there it is; I must write her to come, for father has given‘vher a pressing invitation, of course never once thinking she would he- cept.” I And she seized her pen and wrote a pretty note, and hastening to the bearer, who was awaiting an answer in an ad- joining room, with a face wreathed in smiles she presented it. But alas! not one syllable of her vehement soliloquy had escaped the gentleman, and. he be- ing a friend of the family by whom he had been commissioned to' deliver the message, on his return, be related the try cousin. On being left alone, the astonished girl burst into tears—tears of disappoint- ment, indignation and mortified'pride.— But she soon recovered herself, and wip- ing her eyes seemed lost in _ thought, when suddenly a merry laugh burst forth and she roguishly said: make the most of my visit, and the fool- ish, deceitful Emily Howard, shall find that her country cousin in point of vul- garity, is quite up to her imagination. I am sure it is but fair that she should ,be . punished, and as to her opinion, or that of her associates it matters but little to me. True, it will has diflicult part to play, but I trust to my powers of imita- tion in carrying out my plan. whichfortu- nately, according to the science of phre- uology, are uncommonly developed.” Could Emily Howard at this time have looked in upon her expected guest, she would have dismissed all fears of being disgraced by her, as even she, the ad- mired belle, in point of beauty and ac- complishments, could not rival her. She was gracefully reclining on a luxuriant lounge, in a rich and tasteful apartment. The light of the departing sun was streaming through the window, and the damask curtains reflected a deeper hue to the rose tint on her cheek. Though the traces of tears were still visible, a sunny smile played around the lips of seemed radiant with the sweet light of warm affection and young hops. Oh! joyous, happy season, when life with its varied charms opens upon the young maiden with only rainbow hues; when on the sunny landscape she sees no dark spot, no eclipse. potency, and being fond of rural life, while she was still a mere child, had cho- sen a lovely sequestered retreat. Here amid nature’s sweet adorning’s of flowers and shady groves, with a fond father and tender mother she had passed her child- hood, and here she had numbered her eighteenth year. She was possessed of fine natural talents, and under the guid- ance of her accomplished mother had made great proficiency in both the solid and ornamental branches. Although she had travelled muchwith her parents, and for one of her years had seen much of their world, though admiring eyes had gazed on her, and flattery’s seductive voice had,been breathed in her car, she still retained that sweet simplicity and love of nature, which ever spring from a pure heart. Mr. Charles Howard, her- mother’s brother, resided in a distant city, but owing to‘ a slight misunderstanding be- tween himself and Mr. Dalton (the na- ture of which will not interest my read- ers,).lthe families had never been on terms of intimacy, until within a few months did not visit, when Mr. Howard, in com- pliance with his sister’s earnest request had spent a few days with them at their delightful home. He had ever fondly loved his sister, and the attachment was warmly returned by her, so that a satis- factory explanstios of the misunderstand. ing which had occasioned the breach was highly gratifying to both, and they only regretted that reconciliation had been so long postponed. Mr. Howard was de- lighted with the genius, beauty and ac- complishments of Louisa, and could not 'forbear contrasting the graceful modes- ty of her manners, with the lofty bearing andhaughty affectation of his own he- loved child, and when he urged an ac- ceptance of his invitation, it had been with the hope of benefiting her, not less, than a desiid‘ for the congenial. society of his interesting niece.‘ He was aware that his daughter, having seen only rus- tic beauties, had imbibed a foolish but a strong prejudice against those whose lot was cast without the pale of a populous city and he forebore making any com- ment upon their expected guest, as he wished to witness the surprise of Emily, when she should discover the superiority of her country cousin. But every men- tion of the visit the fallen countenance of Emily betrayed to him how unwel- come it was and be well knew that she was bitterly anticipating many a humiliat- ing mortification, and trying position to which her visitor must expose her. She dared not complain to her father, for she understood his views too well to expect whole afi‘air to Louisa Dalton, the coon-- “That will be fine; at all events I’ll. Madonna. beauty, and every feature, cousin’s and her remarks "so.” The father of Louisa required a com- ‘ sympathy; and she also knew that he would require of her every possible atten- tion upon her cousin. The expected day at length arrived, and with a sickening heart, Emily, for the first time inlhcr life, beheld a stage coach stop at her father’s mansion. As she could restrain herself no longer, and forgetting all fears of her fnthcrs dis- pleasure, with a scornfu! manner and a distressed tone, she exclaimed: could you doom me'to such annoyance, and all for the sake of a miserable coun- try girl? ' The color mounted to the temples of Mr. Howard, and Emily’s cheek flushed beneath the harshest look of reproval which she had ever seen on his usual he. nevolent face. As‘she reluctantly rose to receive her guest, he coldly said: “Emily, don’t trouble yourself; I will do the civilities, as I cannot hear to see my daughter welcoming with honied words and a smile on her lip, one who in her heart she dispises, thus acting the double part of falsehood and hypocri- sy.” . “She has not come after all,” said Mr. Howard, as the stage door was thrown Open; but instantly he recognized her lovely features, shaded by a large bon- net. As he assisted her. invalightiug, he could scarce repress an expression of sur- prise at her grotesque appearance, she ingeniously said: “I am glad to see you, dear uncle, but no doubt you are surprised at my travel- ing equipuge. Do not remove my bag- gage, as, perhaps, you will not ap- prove of the assumed character which circumstances compel the to act, if I re- main with you. A: , She then explained all in regard to the letter, and what had been overheard by the bearer, and closed by saying, that, since she had sent compliments, she thought best to come; but if such a part as she proposed to act would be in the least unpleasant to him, she would unhes- itatingly depart.” ' " ’ I “By no means,” replied her uncle, “your plot is excellent, and though I can scarce bear to see you do violence to the refinement of your feelings, and thus veil it is one that will greatly assist in curin . the serious faults of my child, faults, which conceal her every virtue,‘ and I will assist you to the utmost of my pow- er.” During all this time, peeping from the window above, was poor Emily, and as she witnessed the dismounting, the r'e-. moval of baggage, &c., her appearance was quite as laughable than that of her much more “0 horrible!” she exclaimed, raising both hands, and looking as if she scarce knew whether to laugh or cry, as Louisa first made her appearance, “what a large bonnet! and as to .her outside dress, I really believe it is 'her' old father’s big ' farmer coat. Well, well, papa need not have feared smiling lips and honied words: from ‘me; for hypocrite as he thinks me, I could have assumed them, but shoald have laughed in spite of. myself, in her face, which of course is as big and-home- ly as her bonnet. The provoking crea- turel- what assurance! do see her lean on his arm! and the baggage is, I am sure, precisely like that of the fat Irish wo- man who always comes to service in a stage coach, with just such an old band- box, tied up in a tag; only she has got a rusty umbrella. I suppose she thought mabby her cousin Emily had none, and this would be just the thing to kiver us both in our rainy walk's. Tis too bad, too bad,” and tears began to flow. 'At this moment, Sir Edward Walton —the son of a wealthy marquis, who was visiting at Mr. Wilmot’s was an- nonnced, and, hastily drying her tears, and arranging her becoming dress with studied negligence, she proceeded to the drawing room where he was awaiting, her. A look of undisguised admiration from him rewarded her trouble, and for- getting-all her-anxieties in regard to her country cousin, she was soon rapturously listening to his glowing and refined con- versation. In the meantime, Louisa had been bu- sily engaged in decorating, or rather die- figuring herself forpnrsuance of her plan. Her beautiful brown' hair had been tight- ly drawn back from her forehead, and its luxuriant tresses confined with an 'im- mense tortoise shell comb; directly across her fair brow was bound a row of short, stiff, artificial curlsysecured by a black fillet, which was tied back of the car with a bright pink bow. Her dress, which in no way fitted her elegant form, was of calico, gaily striped with red and green,l_the waist encircled by a red sash, fastened with an old fashioned, brass belt buckle. To complete the arrange- ments, a pair of mits cased her delicate hands, and green shoes sat loosely on her feet. ‘ V While Sir Edward and Emily were still enjoying their tete-a-tete, the door was thrown open, and the glOwing coun- try lassie stood courtesying before them. Emily was so shocked she was unable to rise; but not at all discomforted, Miss Louisa approached and throwing her prms about her neck, imprinted a smack on her check which sounded through the room like the bursting of a bottle of “A dusty stage coach! oh! pa, how- your superior loveliness, yet I doubt noel” beer; and without taking breath she ex- claimed: “I told you I’d come, dear cousin Emily, and I meant to.‘ Ever since my uncle Charles was at our house, I’ve been wanting to. He told me all about you, but he never so much as told me you had a brother,” advancing to Sir Ed- ward with extended hand, saying in an undertone, “well so much the better.” . Poor Emily vainly‘esssyed to speak, and Sir Edward, noticing her embarrass- ment, with assumed gravity while he took the extended hand, and informed her of her mistake. “O, pardon me,” she re- plied, starting back; and then eyeing them both in the face, she said, “you both look as near alike as two peas, only Miss Emily is so pale ;” and marching across the room with the air of one per-I fectly at home, and fixing her eyeson a rich velvet covered easy chair, she said, “what an‘ elegant cheer; I suppose you've,no objections to my sitting'in it, now I’ve got on my best new gown.— And so comfortable too!” she continued as she threw herself into it, and placing her hands on her knees, with her mouth wide open, she stared about the room and freely expressed her admiration of its embellished beauties, declaring it was unlike anything she had ever dreamed of. At length, as if recollecting- herself, she started up, and said—- “But, come, Emily, where is the pi. anny your father .told me about? I’d like too see sich a wonderful thing that speakes music right ont;” and familiarly seizing her hand, she continued, “come don’t be stupid; you know that you have got to show me every thing new, and. that will be no small task, for every thing in a city is new to as country folks. I spose I shall be asked to plenty of frolics, cane scrapes and quiltings, and all that sort of thing, and I’ve brought lots of pretty clothes to wear. I know you will be quite proud of me, and as to the beaux, why up where I live, they think I am—but there, I won’t brag—you’ll see what I can do.” At this,junctu_re, Sir Edward, whose generosity would not allow of his tortur- ing Miss Emily, bade them “good morn. ing,” and withdrew, though whilst be ad- mitted he had enjoyed the symplicity‘ of the little rustic. , “What a pity l” he said to himself as he turned away, “that such a pretty lit- tle creature, (for despite her disguises she was beautiful) with eyes soft as the dove’s, and teeth of pearl half concealed by such sweet lips, and a complexion whose purity might excite the envy of even the beautiful Emily Howard, what a pity that she is so ignorant, and so singularly devoid of ' taste in her personal adornings! ‘And her voice, despite the coarse things it uttered, its musical sweet~ ness thrilled my heart! Well is it for her, that she is under' the protection of as influential a man as Mr. Howard; for in this vile city, possessed of such fresh beauty connected‘with, such ignorance of the ways of the world, it were next to impossible that she should'escspe un- harmed from the seductive wilds of some one of those monsters who are ever on the alert to, lure from virtue’s path the young and ’inndcent.” “This is only the commencement,” sigh- ed the discomfitted Emily, as she pressed her pillow after the first day of amber- rassment and mortifications had passed “and I know not where it will end; I anticipated full enough but her verdency far, far exceeds it all. It will ruin me, I am sure it will, and something must be done. - To-morrow I will reason with her; she is quite pretty, very pretty, and if I can only induce her to lay aside that gi- ganticcomb, and those odious curls, and do her hair in something of style, and then, with a little altering, one of my dresses might fit her, nicely; and the mits and shoes certainly must be disposed of, and then I am sure she will appear like a lady—no, not a lady, quite decent I mean. But her foolish palaver, that is worse than all; what can I do?” and the poor girl, finding that there was much to be done, de‘speiringly sobbed herself to sleep. ' 1 The following morning Emily . was awakened to her troubles by Louise, who, without ceremoney entered her sleeping apartment, exclaiming— ' “Helga!" asleep yet? what 'suy for a, walk?” e ' ‘ Emily would have shaken her of, and resumed her slumbers, had not the thought occurred to her, that in a. walk at such an hour she” would not be likely to encOnnter any of her fashionable friends; and. hastily rising she was soon equipped. Choosing a retired, but pleasant av- enue, she was carelessly proceeding along when her attention was arrested by a gentleman, whose Qegant figure she could not mistake. It was‘no other than Sir Edward Walton, the very one whom, above all others she dreaded, and draw- ing her veil closely over her face, she would have proceeded without noticing him, had not Louisa cried‘out— “Not so fast, Emily! here is the very same youngfellow who was at your house yesterday; he is walking all alone, and he looks wishful, as .if he wanted to go we are taking a walk too, and as you are going the same way, why can’t you go with us?” “With pleasure,” replied Sir Edward, with us. ' Here, Min—what is your name, - biting; his lips, “I never refuse the escort of ladies.” “How very pretty,” said Louisa, and as he smilingly‘ extended his jeWeled hand, their eyes met. _ But, notwithstanding the part she was playing, she was extremely modest, and her eyes fell, while a modest blush o’er-«spread her checks, which was beauti- ful in, the eyes of Sir Edward, although he could not explain such susceptibility, from one who would hail a stranger, and ask him to walk with her. At all events, thought be, such mingling of simplicity and modesty is rare, and therefore inter- esting, and just for novelty’s sake, he re. solved to pursue his acquaintance, and try to draw her out. Invsin he sought to engage Miss How- ard in conversati‘d; she was so pained and embarrassed, she could reply only by monosyllables, but the lighthearted Lou- isa carried it on right merrily, apparently entirely unconscious of the trouble she was giving her companion. As they advanced into open space, Sir Edward passionately called the attention of the ladies to the rising orb of day ting- ing with rich golden hues the eastern ho. rizon. “”I‘is very pretty,” faintly replied Emily while Louisa, betrayed into forgetfulness by her passionate love of the sublime, warmly reiterated— , _ “Pretty! how tame the expression! it is sublimely beautiful! Look again, dear Emily, what, work of art can equal na- ture’s sweet adorningsl how rich, how glorious, are the varied hues and shades." For a moment she gazed, lost in admi- ration, while Sir Edward viewed with surprise, and an interest amounting al- most to tenderness, her intellectual face, beaming with prophetic enthusiasm of her feeling. As she turned her soul-lit eyes upon him, his ,tender gaze recalled her senses, and again her eyes fell, and a deep blush o’er spread her cheeks. Emily, who was no less surprised than Sir Edward, and pleased that she had made a favorable impression on his mind (which she could not help seeing, though she believed it momentary) she half re' solved to let pride alone love her for what she was, and independently brave public opinion. But alas! pride had gained too strong a hold upon her heart, and during the reception of morning callers, she found herself as much annoyed as on the previ- ous day. ’ Immediately after dinner, she took the arm of Louise, and drawing her tiny, said— “Come, let us, go and prepare for the evening.” “You don’t mean for me to prepare,” said Louisa eyeing herself with a look of satisfaction; “I have got on my best, and I am sure I look pretty,” and she placed herself before the mirror; “did you see that young feller that walked with us stare at me? I know he was pleased.” “You look well for the country, but city people dress differently, and when you are here you should try to imitate them both iii-dress and manners, lest by singularity, you might attract too much attention.” “I haVe no sort of objection to attract- ing attentiOn,” replied Louisa drily. "Well, then, to please me, will you not allow the dressing maid to fix your hair a little more like mine?” implored Fanny. “Just as you please; but then if it should not be becoming it must be re- fitted, and all that trouble will have been for nothing.” “Never mind the trouble, and I well know you will be satisfied.” As the maid removed the comb, and bound her shining tresses, Emily gazed in astonishment, ever and anon exclaim- iug— .. “What a pity to confine such splendid hair! Only look, Celia, did you ever see any thing one half so beautiful?” and beautiful indeed she looked to the de- lighted Emily, when its arrangement was tastefully completed. “Ah, now,” said Emily, l“you look sweetly,” and‘with an air of condescen- sion, she for the first time kissed‘her, ad- ding, “I shall be quite proud of you;” and then, as if a. new idea had occurred to her, although in reality she had been ' pondering it all the morning, she ex- claimed, “Oh, Celia! if we could only dress alike, and indeed ,we can, for there are my two blue dresses exactly alike, only one is silk and the. other cashmere. .00" bring them immediately, it is quite a romantic idea!” As Celia departed, LouiSa, who had been twisting her head before the mirror, turned, and in a dissatisfied voice said— I “What a batch Celia has made of my hair! I did not like to say so to her, for she took such pains ; but I’ve no no- tion of wearing it, not I.” . In vain Emily expostuleted ; with pro- voking gravity, and quite a show of im- patience, she gathered it up in its former style, mounting her big comb and artifi- cial curls, and arranging the fillet and bow. ' ' “There now,” said she, "don’t you think it looks better, and far more be- coming!” “I amsure it does not,” scornfully re- plied Emily, while teers of vexation filled her eyes, “it is ridiculous in the extreme, nothing like style about it.” ‘ l 1 “Who cares for style?” said Louisa, dressed alternately to the two inspectors. contemptuously, nobody but city folks, who cover their faces with their hair till they look like monkeys, cramp up their feet, squeeze their insides out, tie a bump of cotton or wool on their backs, and then because its fashionable think they look first rate, and really despise a. lady from the country, who has suflicient inde- pendence to wear what best becomes her, without regard to the fashions.” Convinced how vain her attempts at modernizing were, Emily cast an angry look at her and left the room, shutting the door violently. ‘ “I do believe, dear uncle,” said Louisa as she encountered him in the garden. “that Emily is sufficiently punished. She is really very unhappy at my obstinacy, and my heart aches with pity, even while I am tormenting her. I have forgiven her a thousand times for the few tears her thoughtless remarks occasioned me.” “I appreciate the generosity of your motives,” replied her uncle, “but this fault has gained too strong a hold upon Emily to be easily overcome. If I can but reclaim her from the influence of those silly Wilmots, I shall be satisfied. I know it is painful to you and to me, but if you will bear a little longer, she must come to her senses.” Half an hour after this conversation, Mr. Howard, Emily and Louisa, were started on a shopping expedition ; Emily fully determined to recognize none of her fashionable friends, if so unfortunate as to meet them; her position was very much like that of a young child, who sometimes shuts his eyes, thinking by so doing he screens himself from observation. . "O, papa !” cried she earnestly, as they stopped before a spacious and elegant store, “this is no place for us.” “And why not my daughter? Have I not often heard you say you preferred it to any in the city—that Mn, Courtland and clerks were gentlemanlike and accom- modating—and do you not generally trade here ?” ~ The fact was, Mr. Courtland, who was indeed a finished gentleman, had been charmed with the beauty of Emily, not less than her well filled purse, and always foremost in welcoming her, bad delicately bestowed on her many of those flattering attentions, so pleasing to the heart of wo- man. ' As the party entered, Emily slunk be- hind her father; but Louisa pulled her sleeves saying, “ Only look dear cousin Emily ! what lots of pretty things ! Not much like the stores where 'I live, I can tell you ;‘ why, there they have pork, cheese, corn, molasv sea and codfish, besides their calicoes, tapes, needles and what not; don’t they, Uncle Charles ?” ' “ But this is a much prettier way, all calicoes and furbelows. What an elegant lump l well, I never l” and she closely in- spected thc chandelier, “ why, it’s really worth twenty-five cents to come here, if it’s only to look at the pretty things.” “Good evening, Miss Howard,” said Mr. Courtland, bowing politely and affect- ing not to note her embarrassment ; “are there any goods I can show you this eve- ning ?” “ No, she don’t want any,” replied Louisa, stepping forward, “but I’d like to buy a new gown.” The remarks of a countrv rustic were not entirely new to the dealer, and expe- rience had taught self-command ; so with- out changing countenance, though he se- cretly wondered that the fashionable Em- ily Howard should have so vulgar a rela- tion, he courteously asked—- “What shall I show you madam? silks, de laines”— “ Calico, first rate handsome calico,” interrupted Louisa. “ I would like to look at your nice prints” chimed in the affected voice of a fashionable attired young l.dy, languish- ingly seating herself on a stool by the side of Louisa, and ungloving her delicate hand. The prints were produced with the usual commendations of shop keepers, such as new styles, elegant patterns, fast colors, unexccptionable prints, «be, ad- “ Prints ! prints 1” said Louisa ; “ I asked for calico." “This is the article, madam,” gravely replied Mr. Courtland. “ Well, that’s a funny name for calico; these are not half lively enough ; why, they look just like my old faded wash gown, and would do better for my grand- mother, than for a young girl like me.— I like your real dashy calico, or prints, as you call um.” The young lady cast a scornful look upon the speaker, and gathered her wide spread, costly garments about her as if she feared contamination. "‘ Look here, cousin Emily,” continued Louisa, “ do tell me what to buy.,’ “ Assist your cousin in a choice,” said Mr. Howard, and Emily who had pur- posely kept at a distance, was forced to apprbach. At the sound of Mr. Howard’s voice, the lady on the stool had raised her eyes, and immediately discovered her to be the before mentioned Mrs. Wilmot’s eldest daughter and one of her most particular friends. With a formal smile for Mr. Howard and a chilling smile for Emily, she turned to Mr. Courtland with—21 see nothing that quite pleases me,” and then minced out of the store. “0 look, Emily!” said Louisa, follow- ing her with her eyes; “what a widdle- waddle piece of work that girl makes of walking.” 9 “Why Louisa,” said Mr. Howard, smil- ing, “that is what they call graceful.” "Just as graceful as our old ducks.— You city folks know nothing of grace.— I only wish you could see the milk-maid trip along, that’s all grace—grace with- out efl‘ort, perfectly natural too.” But it will not do for me to be thus minute, lest I might weary my readers— each succeeding day brought new trials and mortificatibns to Emily, and it ap- peared to her as if her father’s house had never been so thronged with the fashion .of the city. Sir Edward Walton spent much of his time with them, and it is rumored that' he was paying his addresses to Miss How- ard. In vain did she look for it confirms- tion of the report. She was certain he was deeply interested in her, and it is no less certain that‘for his sake she would have renounced an absent, but not less worthy lover—not that she loved Sir Ed- ward better, but then, he was a son of a marquis, and above all, one whom the high-headed Wilmots were aspiring, or rather maneuvering to captivate. But alas! for their schemes; Sir Ed- ward was not one to be entrapped by art, since his travels in foreign countries, and his knowledge of the fashionable world, had sickened him of intriguing mammas or affected misses True he was charmed with Emily’s beauty and accomplishments, and, had she appeared a little or rather much more naturally, there is no telling what might have happened. As it was, he never once thought of marrying her. So fastidious was he, despite of his domes- tic tastes and admiration of women, some- times feared lest he should never find the bean ideal of his imagination, in which case he would most assuredly fulfill his friend’s predictions. The anniversary of Emily’s birth day was fast approaching, and sincerely did she hope that Louise’s visit would be completed before its arrival. Alas! the day came round and Louise. was still there. In the early. part of the day she had occasion to go to Emily's room, where she found her reclining on the sofa weeping bitterly. “Why, dear Emily 1” she exclaimed, “what can be the matter?” Emily rudely pushed her away, saying, “leave me alone, I am so tired and un- happy I do not wish to see you.” “Tired and unhappy! and on your birth day too” interrupted Louisa, com- passionately; is there nothing I can do to relieve you?” “If you could, you would not,” said Emily pettishly, “you are so obstinate.” Louisa was grieved, but not ofi'euded; and in tones of earnestness she sought to assure Emily of her mistake.- “Well, then suppose I tell you that you are the cause of my trouble.” “I the cause of your trouble? Why Emily, what on earth can you mean?” “But you will be angry, and will go to papa with it.” “Indeed I will not, who 'ever saw me angry.” “Well, then, I am weeping simply be- cause—because—my friends who come to celebrate this day, will laugh at your odd dress.” “But why cry for that? they can’t make me cry; I don’t care for um one cent.” “But you andI differ; and to know that my cousin must he laughed at, will make me miserable all day long.” "0 cousin what a strangely disinterest- ed girl you are; but it shows how dearly you love me, and since it is your birth day, you shall have your own way, and I will promise to do just as you tell me.” That same night a large, select com- pany was assembled in the Splendidly il- luminated balls of Mr. Howard, Sir Ed- ward Walton was seated between the two Misses Wilmots when the eldest re- marked: “I really hope that rustic cousin will be here it will be so amusing to see her manoeuvre. And Emily, too—why, she turned nineteen different colors when I happened to meet them at Courtland’s. How hard they tried to be genteel: but it’s no use, if they allow such vulgar vis- itors. Why one such encounter must convince every well bred person of their low origin. I know several that would have dropped them long ago but the sil- ly things give splendid parties." At that moment Emily who had spent many hours in dressing and drilling her cousin, presented her to her gucsts. “What a charming woman!” said Sir Edward; but bless me! tis the country girl, metamorposed truly. How sweetly she looks in that simple white muslin, and that white rose in her beautiful hair!” Louisa tried (or appeared to try) to make her entrance as she had been in- structed, but after two or three awkward .. \ attempts, she sunk into the first empty chair, saying despairingly. “There I can’t do it, Emily and it’s no use to try.” A half suppressed titter ran through the apartments, and all eyes were turned scrutinizingly upon her—Sir Edwards in pity and admiration; for he saw, or im- agined he saw a’ painful blush oversprsad her check at her awkward situation. “I thought you told me she was a
Norwalk Chronicler