.._-...
’ M fiffi~‘ <-
LESSONS OF THE FIELD
Lo, the lilies of the field,
How their leaves instruction yield!
Hark to Nature’s lesson, given
By the blessed birds of heaven.
Every bush and tufted tree
Warbles sweet philosophy.
Mortal, fly from doubt and sorrow;
God provideth for the morrow!
Say, with richer crimson glows
The kingly mantle than the rose ?
Say, have kings more wholesome fare
Than we poor citizens of the air?
Barns nor hoardcd grain have we, '
Yet we carol merrily.
Mortal, fly from doubt. and sorrow:
God providcth for the morrow!
7 7‘ For (he Norwall: Gazette.
The Little BoatSail,
' — A N D - '
“THAT CMIE OF IT.
RY ROBERT CHEVALlI-lll.
'Cnllr'rsn x.
“ ‘Will you walk into my parlor ?‘ said the
spider to tbe fly.” _
The yelmg gentleman who made this famil-
iar quotation was standing in a pretty row
boat which he had been carefully arranging.
He was in the bow in the act of extending
his hand to assist into the boat, a young lady-
of dainty figure and pleasing face. The
words, were of course spoken to her and
in alight tone. When she had taken her seat,
the young man, stepping for amomcnt on the
beach, pushed the boat off and then jumped
The skiff with its two passengers was
0
in.
soon far away from the shore.
It was the Long Island shore near Fort
Hamilton that they left in the distance.
These two persons, whose adventures forln
the basis of the following narrative, were
summer boarders from the city. They had
been forever a month now at this quiet and
beautiful resort, and, making their stay at the
same house, had become by this time well ac-
quainted, for they had shared in many of the
excursions and pleasure parties which had
been made up for recreation. On this partic-
ular occasion there were to have been three
in the boat, Mr. Eugene Hazlitt andMiss Con-
stance Rightmeyer who were now in it, and
Miss Belle Minturn who had come down with
them to the water expecting to go. But while
she and her friend Constance were waiting
for the craft to be made ready, a messenger
came in hot haste from the house conveying
to her the distressing tidings that her special
.pet, a Spitz poodle, had been taken with a fit,
which left no course open for Miss Minturn
but to hurry back to the boarding house. She
protested, however, against the sail being
abandoned on her account. As we well know
that it is not in human nature to turn back
from any anticipated pleasure, if there are no
weighty reasons in the shape of sick poodles
or similar calamities to call for one’s doing so,
we need not be at all surprised that Bellc’s
friends embarked alone, that is with no third
person to help out the talk and the enjoyment.
“We will go only a. short distance down
the bay,” said Miss Constance Rightmeyer.
But who shall say what a short distance is,
when we are gliding with the stream and the
waters are smooth? Life has too many rough
passagesfor us that ave. should ever willingly
bring to an end the lnornenta—of— purg 1131)le
-.-_nesswhich_come ,. 1-: "e we drift at case on a»
summer sea. It was after tea when our
friends started on their little trip, the sun had
now already set and the heavens and bay
were aflame with the splendors of the hour.
After Eugene had pulled at the oars a con-
siderable time, Miss Rightmeyer of course
wished to try her hand. When she wasat
Suratoga in July—this was a year ago—she
had seen the Columbia crew win and had
learned what a shell is and the meaning of
other technicalities of the Rowing Club, and
it would be a pity if a. young lady so well in-
formed could not row. At least she wished
to try. ‘
“You may take my seat and read the
book,” she said, “and please don’t watch me,
. or I shall get nervous.” I
Mr. Eugene Hazlitt was a gentleman; he
was also a lover—though not .an avowed one
—and as a consequence he soon yielded to the
demand of his companion after she had re-it-
erated it several times. He was presently
absorbed in the interesting book which Miss
Constance transferred to him—in fact so
deeply absorbed in it as to forget where
he was. I wish I knew the name of this
thrilling work for the benefit of my readEr as I
well as my own, for such books are rare. Still
there are such books. Unfortunately this
particular one was dropped overboard in
the excitement‘of the accident which I shall
now mention. 3
Miss Constance was able to manage the oars
with only the indifferent success which is
usual to young ladies who have taken but a
few turns at rowing. After attempts of this
sort which any one will understand who has
once seen a novice‘s exploits, she was sure
one car was larger than the other and that she
could get along with them _much better if she
could change them each into a different hand.
Endeavoring to dothis she dropped them
overboard. Instinctively she sought-to regain
them, but in trying to reach after them she
lost her balance and nobody knows what
’wonld have been the extent of the disaster,
had-not her friend in the stern suddenly
awakened to a consciousness of danger being
present in time to save her from all harm but
a partial wetting.
Things were now in a bad way. In the
confusion} of rescuing Constance and ascer-
taining the extent of injury which she may
have in any waylsustained, the boat had drift-
ed far from the oars, which were 'now no-
where to be seen.‘ The darkness had already
begun to gather 'and the tide was setting
strong out to sea. ‘
“Well, we are in a fix,” said Constance.
“Can you swim ?”
“Yes,” replied Eugene, “can you?”
“No,” she'answercd, “and if I could, it
would be of no avail for we are miles away
from the shore. "
“I do not see but that we are in a fair way
to make a'voyage to Europe—or the bottom,"
observed the gentleman.
“And without so much as a ship biscuit.
for food,” said Constance.
' “And state-room accommodations are re—
markably scanty,” Dub'TeSLed Eugene, “no
Place for our trunks even if we hadithem."
“Oh. it is perfectly shocking, will not some
ship pick as up ?"
“They Will if they see us, but we can not
hope for it until daylight. It is very uncer-
tain then that we shall come near enough to
any vessel to be seen by the people aboard.”
“It is’ all due ‘to my folly and wilfulness,”
said the young lady very demurely.
“No,- not at all, it is entirely my fault,”
answered the other. “I should not hava been
so engrossed in that book; I am heartily glad
it has gone overboard.”
Whether or not this gentleman and lady, if
the) had been a'married couple, would have
5°~$e|erously declined to throw the‘blame of
the” misfortune. each upon the other, I leave
for “‘0 exnerienced reader to determine. It
‘5 Clea’J‘Wever, that as an unmarried'oouple
011* 0f gOOd scolety, they did just what socie-
ty W011“ expect of them—took the fault to
themselves.
TO submit to the inevitable is a, necessity
to do it With as 300‘} glace'as possible 'is li'
virtue. Our ' ygung friends made up their
mmds that they must spénd the night 'i, the
boat. , It was disagreeable to think , but
i
i
want. NUMBER 1460. '
,, .4 ,, ___..._ ._ _ ...
it could not be helped. It is true there were
some modifying circumstances. They had,
indeed, enjoyed only limited acquaintance,
but, as is quite the way at watering-places,
the time had been socially well improved, so
filat though no attachment had been avowed
they were both in love with each other.
There is a period in the history of affairs of
the heart, when there exists on the part of
each a conscious affection for the other, and,
added to this, a feeling, not assured but cher-
ished as a delightful probability, that this
sentiment is reciprocatcd. A sort of tacit
understanding is reached that the fates are
mutually propitious. Eugene and Constance
had arrived at this crisis in their history al-
though uo expression of love had been made
in words.
It might be thought that the opportunity
which now offered was a favorable one for
the avowal of his attachment by Mr. Hazlitt;
but Mr. Hazlitt felt a delicacy in taking ad-
vantage of such an occasion, perceiving that
a refusal just now would make the situation
more awkward tllan it was, and every man
ought to face the possibility of a refusal.
The situation, too, had enough peril in it to
draw the attention entirely to itself. It seem—
ed an idle thing to lay any plansfor life when
so plain a prospect of death by starvation or
the violence of storms and waves stared them
full in the face. , V .
And yet this common danger increasing
fearfully with each lengthening hour, tended
to draw their hearts closer together. Their
fate had becomemysteriously blended. They
had chafed at the thought of the anxiety
which their prolonged absence would cause
their friends on shore, and had pictdred, at
first playfully, then seriously and painfully,
the distress which they were unwittingly
bringing upon them. Now with their pro-
gress out into the broad sea, their fears ‘were
concentrated on themselves. As the night
gradually settled down on their frail and
lonely boat, and they continued through its
long and lonely‘ hours to float helplessly on
the waters which were more and more agita-
tated with the mighty, heavings of the sea,
having only the stars to tell them whither
their course tended, ~ these unfortunate waifs
felt that for them there was no other hope ex-
cept what they had in themselves and the
merciful providence of God. Their thoughts
went up to Him who rules the winds and
waves with the resistless power of His hand.
And they clung to each other with the feeling
that they shared now a common destiny. .No
words of love were spoken, for they seemed
unnecessary. The chances of life were small.
The world was to them but a fading vision;
its green banks, its music, country quiet. and
city din, the dear friends it held, were all far
away, out of all possible reacll, and they
were drifting slowly, surely into the vast
embrace of the relentless and devouring
ocean. Hence they were, perforce, all in
all to each other, and could meet the exiger- ‘
cies of the hour only by staying up théfi"
spirits with mutual expressions of manly
rcsolutcncss and womanly trust and cheer.
At length that night of suffering wore
away, the dawn came and with its advancing
light hope revived in their hearts. But no
sail could be descried, no land was visible
from their low boat, and though the sea was
yet comparatively calm, the sky thickened
with an ominous haze which threatened foul
weather. Day wore on this way till after-
noon, and they began to feel the pangs of
hunger and thirst with a violence which sug
gested how great were the sufferings in store
for them if they did not get relief. At vari-
ouztvirfiés‘bhcirhvpcs-were cxclted‘by the ap:
pearance 'of sails in the distance, and by the
smoke from steamers rising in their line far
away in the offing, but their little speck of a
boat was not perceived by these great ships,
and their hearts sank with deeper discourage-
inent than ever when they watched them
pass out of vision leaving them to all their
forlorn misery.
The waves became new larger, although,
considering that they were far out on the wide
ocean itself, the sea was very califi. Occa-
sionally a heavy ‘swell broke over them wet-
ting them with the spray. - Their anxiety had
become intense and heaven seemed at war
with them, for the sky rapidly blackened
with the signs of an impending storm. Ex-
hausted by abstinence, chilled by the drench-
ing of the rising billows, they were filled
with horror at the thought that wild and fu-
rious night upon the deep, ten-fold more fear-
ful than the preceeding one, was soon to
shut down upon them. They could hardly
speak, words seemed out of place. With
clasped hands they looked into each other’s
eyes in recognition of the dreadful fate which
had now suddenly dawned upon them both.
They had pretty well abandoned hope of
being picked up, and could only watch with
foreboding the gathering storm before which
the day was fast fading into night. Con-
stance, utterly overcOmc by the horrors of
the situation, had sunk down insensible in
the stern of the boat, while her companion
continued to scan anxiously the the expanse
around for any token of relief. It was then
that looking northward he saw a vessel under
reefcd sails bearing down toward them. He
felt a. ' new hope and aroused Constance.
They rose up, fluttered their llandkcrchiefs,
shook out Constance’s shawl, and shouted
with all the energy of despair. At first no
signs appeared that they were seen, and the
ship promised to pass them without notice,
when suddenly she was made to stand to the
wind and a boat was lowered to bring them
, aboard. ' This was soon done,land while they,
more dead than alive, were aired for by their
kind preservers, the ship \vas steered for the
south-east, to run before, and, if possible, out
of the way of the approaching gale.
[To be Continued]
' m
A Wire’s Powan.——A good wife is to Ea
man, wisdom, strength and courage; a bad
one is confusion, weakness and despair. No
condition is hopeless to a man where‘ the wife
possesses firmness, decision and economy.
There is no outward propriety which can
counteract indolence, extravagance and folly
at home. No spirit can long endure bad in-
fluence. Man is strong; but his heart is not
adamant. He needs a tranquil mind; and
especially if he is an intelligent man, with a
whole head, he needs its moral force in the
ecklflict , of life. To recover his com-
posure, home must be a place of peace and
comfort. There his soul renews its strength,
and goes forth with renewed vigor to encoun-
ter the labor and troubles of life. But if at
home he finds up rest, and there is met with
bad temper; jealousy and gloom, or assailed
with complaints and censure, hope vanishes,
and he sinks into despair.
ng_——__,==
An Iowa farmer cut open an old hornet’s
nest just to examine the inside arrangement.
He says, he thinks he will be able to see his
barn in about two weeks. '
-———.—‘.r—.-—-
A New York horticulturist sells Baldwin
apples at $10 a barrel. He takes a slip of
paper and‘euts children’s names, then places
the. paper around the apples when they begin
to color,.aud in a week or two Mamie, Jamie,
Johnnie, Minuie’or Susie appears on the ap-
ples in large red letters. 'Thesc picked and
barreled by themselves bring fancy prices.
-——-————.-—A.p—.—%———
The Hartford Courant of,—lVedllcsday con-
taincd a. letter from Mr. Cllal‘fies D. Warner,
the manuscript of which wigs in the lost
“Deutechland’s” mails, and wasrecovered af-
ter lying at the bottom of the odean a while.
It was pretty badly soaked and ‘=.“demoral-
ized” generally, as might be sup but it
was at length decipher-ed and found 0 con-
tain considerably more “dry” wit tha was
’to have been expected under the cir um-
If any one looked into the library of Villa
Deane, near the close of a cold, biting day in
December, they would have seen its young
mistress, instead of-sittingquiet-ly at her read-
ing or sewing as usual, walking up and down
the long room, pausing now to look out of the
window, and again to look at theclock. The
reason of this unusual conduct on the part of
the little lady was simply this—her husband,
to whom she had been wedded not quite a
year, had been away for a fortnight and was
expected back that night. .
Mrs. Deane had watched Watson drive out
of the avenue, on his way to the depot for his
master, and although it was not'quite time for'
’his‘return, she was beginning to fear that her
husband had not come. The door of the
library opened, revealing the laughing face of
a young lady a year or two younger than Mrs.
Doane, but resembling her enough to be
classed at once as hei' sister. .
“W'lly, Lena,” said the girl, with a voice.
full of merriment, “one would think that you
were expecting your lover, instead of a year
old husband. Why don’t you sit down and
behave you silly girl? ”
“If my husband isn’t my lover, "who is, I
would like to know," answered her sister,
giving Constance a playful tap on her check
as she passed her on the way to the windOW
for another look-out. This time she was suc-
cessful, for she heard the sound of bells, and in
a moment the sleigh came around the curve. .
Springing to the door, Lena opened it, and let
a flood of light out from the hall which fell on '
her handsome husband, Richard Doane, as he
sprang from the sleigh to the porch. . -
“Now this is cheerful to a fellow half fro-
zen and nearly tired to death,” he said as he
caught Lena‘s slight form in his strong arms
and bore her in triumph to the library.
“Now, of course, you girls want to know
all the news,” said Richard, as they sat at tea.
“Well, in the first place, I-mct that handsome
cousin of mine, Clare IVhaitely, with whom I
once came so near falling in love, Lena."
(Here Richard gave his wife a mischievous
look.) “She left her home in Georgia some
north. She is coming to make us a visit, soon.
’ou will have to look out, little wife; she is
very handsome and fascinating.” ' i
The little wife seemed in no wise discon-
certed by this information.
“We must do all we can to entertain our ,
southern beauty. Her father’s hospitality to
'me'was generous when I visited there. But
I have a greater bit of news to tell you. Per-
haps it will‘intcrcst our sister here,” said Rich-
ard, casting a roguish glance at Constance.
“I met. Donald Lyon on the train tonight.
He has returned from his wanderings to and
fro in the earth, and is going to spend the
winter at the Oaks, keeping open house. So,
we shall be lively enough this winter.
.“If it would not be too much trouble.- to
your loftiness to inform us two benighted in-
dividuals, who Donald Lyon is, perhaps we
sh‘buld like to know,” said Constance.
“Excuse me, I had forgotten that neither of
you knew him: well, he is the richest and the
handsomest man in Chester, and, Constance,
he is neither married nor engaged.”
“Oh, indeed i” said Constance, “I suppose
there are other men neither married nor en-
gaged, are there not? Don’t trouble yourself;
my dear brother-in-law, on my account, I am
quite satisfied with my condition. In fact, I
have so much to occupy me, in watching you
and Lena in your love-makinggthat, I could
"liot‘possiblysparc the time to attend to any
such thing on my own account." _
“Incorrigible as ever,” said Richard, laugh—
ing and shrugging his shoulders.
“I have no doubt you will have the kindness
to excuse me from the library this evening, '
although it may be quite a trial to you to be
left alone, but I have several letters to write,
and really must retire,” said Constance, as she
laughingly left the room.
We will take a look at Constance as she sits
Her figure is slight, almost fragile, a little
above the medium height, with a peculiar
delicacy and grace of motion. Her face is de-
didedly fine, with a forehead low, broad and
slightly overhanging. Her hair light auburn,
in rich profusion and always arranged with ex—
quisite taste about the elegantly-poised head ;
eyes gray and expressive, Without being too
full—eyes that are honest and kind when they
meet yours, a d behind which you can expect
much of sympt hy and love; a mouth a trifle
large, perhaps, ith even, white teeth, and
flexile lips, capl. le of the most sudden and
effective changest‘fi expression-a more radi-
antly-beautiful smile than belonged to this
month it would be impossible to conceive.
So much for the face and form of Constance
Ashley. Her character was in harmony with
her external beauty. Generous, affectionate
and far remoyed from all littleness, a pure,
gentle womanly character, united to a cheer-
ful and even disposition. She had not lived
her twenty years Without devoted lovers, and
more than once her generosity had saved such
from declaring their passion, only to be hu-
miliated by a refusal. More than one such she
still retained as her friends.
Two evenings after my story commences,
Donald Lyon called to pay his respects to the
Villa Doane. Let me introduce to you,
gentle reader, the man whose return to Ches-
ter had created a profound sensation among
several maidens, and perhaps as many mam-
mas. Donald Lyon was thirty-five. Tall, in-
clining more to robustness than slightness, he
stood before one as a man whose physical
powers were not to be despised. A glance at
his face would convince you that he was also
intellectually strong.
and massive—the face certainly handsome,
notwithstanding an inclination to ‘sternness,
almost to severity. The pleasant, though pen-
etrating and commanding eye, showed that he
was neither harsh nor cold. Strength was
written on form and feature, but never tyr-
anny. His character was strong, self-pos-
sessed, and at times severe, thOugh never
tinged by a shadow of injustice. If this stur.
dy nature was capable of a tender devoted
love, we have yet to see. i
‘ ‘Well, little wife, I shall bring cousin Clare
home with me tonight,” said Mr. Deane as he
bade Lena good-bye, previous to starting for
the city.
“Very well; I shall be glad to welcome
her,” said Lena; “we will make it as gay and
pleasant for her as we can.”
The five oclock train from the city came
puffing and panting into the depot at Chester.
Mr. Doane' handed his lovely companion,
whose rich Southern beauty had attracted the
the eyes and admiration of several young gen-
tlemen in the car with them, to the platform,
and offering her his arm conducted her to the
sleigh in waiting. He had taken the precau-
tion to order the covered sleigh to protect
Clare from the severity of the cold, and though
she was completely enveloped in furs, she
shivered.
“Oh, how perfectly barbarous your climate
is,” said she, as they drove along at a brisk
pace. “So you say Donald Lyon has at last
returned home! I wonder if he will remem-
ber me.”
“Oh yes, he often speaks of our visit to-
gether at your home. I always thought one
word from you would have kept him still
longer in your vicinity, not to say at your
feet, cousin.” .
“Now Dick, stop your nonsense,” said Clare,
- pretending to be vexed. “I suppore he brought
home some fairone to share his wealth and
elegant home. ” -
“N 0; on the contrary he is'stilla free man,”
. laughed RiChard, who did not notice the gleam
”of triumph that flitted across Clare's face, as
. game.
-to commence festivities.
quietly in her own room, busy with her pen. ,
The head was grand '.
t stances.
he said this. “If you can stand the coldg'f‘l‘l
&
will just stop at the post office one minute, as
Constance is expecting a letter of some im-
portance.”
“Oh, certainly,” was the answer.
The moment Richard’s back was turned,
Clare pulled off her fur glove, and removed
from the forefinger of the left hand, a solitaire
diamond of great brilliancy and put it into
the pocket of her dress. “Lie there,” she
whispered. Donald Lyon can give me one
of even more value. I must play my cards
well this time, if I would win.”
Charles Kingsley was, at that moment
thinking fondly of. his darling Clare, who, one
month ago, had promised to become his wife,
and wishing that he could have accompanied
her to Chester.
Clare received a warm welcome when she
reached Villa Doane. She made herself at
home, at once, and completely won the hearts
of Mrs. Donne and Constance by her personal
loveliness, and easy, graceful manners.
“You have all got to like me," she said,
“for I am going to stay here quite a while. 'I'
can’t bear. to travel this horribly cold weather,
so I shall stay, in this cos'y place and enjoy
you all as long as I can.”
: “That is what we all wish you to do,” said
hospitable Mrs. Doane. .. “We feel acquainted
with you, already. We have heard Richard
speak of you so often. 'Wc hope you will on.
joy yourself and keep from freezing.”
After tea Richard handed Constance a letter.
“What news ?" asked Mrs. Doane,'as Con-
stance finished reading the letter. _
“Only this, that my dear little friend, Katie
Burke, has engaged herself to the young rec-
tor at St. Mark’s; the happy man is coming
this way next week, and at her. earnest re-
quest will spend a day or two- witlrus. I
have met him several times, so he will not be
be quite a stranger to me, if he should be to
the rest of you.” '
“Phillip Bradley, is it ?” enquired Richard.
, “1'05." ‘
“Oh, I know him quite well: he is one of
the most bashful, sensitive men I have ever
met. At the same time, he is no mean scholar
——'a regular book-worm. But llark, there is
Lyon coming up the avenue; I. can tell that
by the rush and snort of that powerful Nero
weeks ago, and is going to spend the winter 10f 11.153"
Richard had hardly ceased speaking before
Donald Lyon stood in the library, bringing in
such a whiff of frosty air with him that Clare
shuddered, and drew the soft white shawl
closer about her. '
It was not. an uncommon thing for Donald
Lyon to appear at Villa Deane of an evening;
Oglensibly to play whist, a game of which he
was exceedingly fond. Perhaps there might
also have been some pleasure to him, in the
fact that Constance was his partner in the
He was cordially welcomed. He
needed no introduction to Clare—he knew her
at once.
Was there a shadow of vexation on his face,
as he turned from her, after politely greeting
her, and was there disappointment and uncer-
tainty on Claire’s ? _
The evening was spent in social chat. Don-
ald talking of some of his foreign travels,
much to the delight of of his listeners.
Clare’s keen eye detected the glance of Don-
ald’s' often turned toward Constance, as she
sat near the light, busy with some fancy-work,
from which she scarcely raised her eyes—her
expressive face, however, plainly showing her
to be an attentive listener.
“Don’t forget, Mr. Lyon,” said Mrs. Deane,
as he rose to go, “that our party comes off
next VVeduesday night; you will not fail to
come, will you, although I know you have no
special fondness for parties. " A i
“I shall certainly come, Mrs. Doane; in
fact, believe I am beginning to like such things
‘ better, and am happy to announce that repairs,
additions, decorations, etc., are nearly com-
pleted at The Oaks, and we will soon be ready
I am fortunate in
being able to have your presence to grace
these festivities," said Donald, turning to
Clare.
“Thanks 2” she said, “but I fear you flatter
me, and that you should not do, for we are
old friends you know.”
Again that vexed look on Donald Lyon’s
face as he bade adieu. ' »
Nero stood at the door, held with some dif-
ficulty by the groom, but at the sound of his
. master’s voice stood perfectly quiet, not offer-
ing to start until Donald, having put on his
fur wraps, said in a low voice, “Go.” Then,
like a small whirlwind, the powerful animal
rushed down the avénue.
“Just hear that animal go,” said Richard.
“I do not believe any man but Donald Lyon
could manage such a creature. I would’nt try
to do it."
“What! homesick already,"he said, turning
to Clare, who, having drawn nearer to the fire,
was gazing into it with great intentness.
“Oh, no indeed, Dick. I was only thinking
—in fact I am rather tired and think I will re-
tire.”
Clare entered her room, which had been
made as luxurious as possible by Mrs. Doanc
and Constance, who, thinking the fair south—
erner would prefer a warmer color, had
changed the furniture, carpet and drapery
from blue to bright crimson.
If Clare was fatigued, she seemed to have
' no intention of ' going to bed, fdr, after taking
down a mass of glossy black hair and braiding
it in one large braid, and putting on a soft
warm wrapper, she seated herself before the
open fire. .,
“Now, Clare Whaitley," she said, in a low
voice, “I want to have a talk with you before
I give sleep to my eyelids this night. A good
honest talk too.”
“First, then. you love Donald Lyon, and
have loved him ever since he visited you four
years ago. Next, Donald Lyon does not love
you and never did. He was the man whom
you did not succeed in bringing to your feet
when you tried. Oh we can afford to be hon-
est, very honest,” she said, as she felt the hot
blood mantle cheek and brow. “It is a des-
perate game you have to play now, Clare
Whaitley. Donald Lyon loves Constance
Ashley,but as I am a living, breathing wenmn,
he shall neVer wed her, and, failing there,
perhaps I yet may win. ' I can afford to wait,”
For an hour Clare W'haitcly sat with knitted
brow and compressed lips, thinking. Then
she retired to rest and slept asquictly as if she
had never a thought of evil.
It was two days ' before the grand party at 5
Villa Deane was to come ofi. Mrs. Deane
and Constantia had driven to the city to attend
to some necessary preparations for the feats]
night. Clare had excused herself from accom-
panying them on the plea of a severe head-
ache. All the morning Clare sat engr‘ossed
with her own thoughts—not very pleasant
ones, if one could judge from the looks of‘her
face. As she rose in answer to the summons
of the lunch bell, her eye fell on a number of
letters, which Watson had brought in on,his
return from the village. Mechanically, she
turned them over to see if there was one for
her. “One for Mrs.'Doane, two for herself,
a_nd what is this?” she exclaimed. “Con-
stance Ashley, written iu Donald Lyon’s
square, decided hand.” She knew his wri-
ting—she had never seen any other like it.
I-Iastily concealing the letter between her own .-
she took them in her hand to the dining room.
As soon. as she found herself alone, she held
the letter belonging to Constance ,over the
steaming coffee urn, thus softening: the seal .;'.
then with a delicate paper ciltter“ opened it,
without tearing. ,
Ah! what do y 0“ “311d, treacheroull Clare ,
Whaitley, that makes your check mile “9d
rage? -
your glistening teeth bite your lips in
We will read also: , ‘ _
Miss Asnanz—I have met many women
abroad aud'in my own chantry, but among
them all'I‘ have met'n'oue for whom I enter-
tained for a single moment other than sen—
timents of esteem andfricndship. I have met
,ring of great value, belonging‘fii' "
" :nw‘asj: . ‘e-urr'sfiver; ' , y -:,r'
you, Constance Ashley, ~'and -.‘I find myself
powerfullyvil‘lflucflOed?mid-governed by a sen-
timent which ill-more; than! esteem.
I love you, Conét‘mfcel‘r I avow it. I love
you. How much 141m you I dare not write.
What I have writtenf may not be pleasing to
you, but if it is not displeasing to you, willyou
do me the favor to'wear a. red rose in your
hair on the night of the party? If you are
displeased wear a white one, that I may be in
no suspense. Yon'will not see me again till
that night. " DONALD Lyon.
Clare re-read 'thgénote, carefully folded and
returned it to the,,'envelope, which upon.re-
turning to the library, she sealed again. Leav-
ing the letter with her own, unopened on the
table as she had found them, she went to her
room, threw herself upon the lounge where
she was busy thinking, until she was inter-
rupted by the entrance of Constance on her re-
turn from the city. f_
“Why, you poof. child,” exclaimed Con-
stance with a. vole” , full of sympathy, “did
your headache drivyyou to the lounge“! I am
sorry, but perhaps the two letters I have for
you here will make you better,” she added,
handing them to Clare. “I found them on the
library table.” " .
“Thank you, dear,” said Clare, in a languid
voice, as 'she took the letters in her hand. “I
did not expect any letters at all this week, and
so did not look on t* ', liable for'them when I
went to lunch.” f _ " “I i' ‘ "
“But how tired you look, Constance. Do
go and rest until tea'is ready.” _ '
“I am rather tired and I think I_will take
your advice." , _ .7 i .- ._. ..
When Constance had left the room a Cruel
smile played about Clalie’s’lips as are; liaid to I
herself: “Yes, go and read the note I know‘
you have in' your pocket; but Whatever your '
decision may be, mine is that. you shall weara
white rose in your hair for Donald Lyon two
nights hence. My plans are too well laid to
be thwarted now, I fancy."
When Constance reached her room she
drew the note from her pocket. “I wonder
who this can .be from," she said; “I do not
recognize the writing, which is very peculiar.”
After examining it closely again she opened it.
Ah, Constance, we will not pry into your
secret just now, 'We will leave you with
your fair face buried‘in your hands while you
are busy with your own thoughts. Weiwill
wait to see if you ”place in your. hair,'two
nights hence, a rcd'iilfie or a white cue. ‘ '
The day of thefp’arty dawned ‘clear and .
bright and with it cancelling) Bradley. '. -
It would be useless to deny that Constance
was a little sorry that he should have. arrived
that day. She knewon' her Would. depend
his entertainment,.especially during the eve-
ning, as she was, with the exceptioniof Rich-
ard, the only one at all acquainted. withhim.
Clare secretly rejoified' at his coming, for
she knew that Constarme,,with true politeness,
would dc'vot'e-herselfftbhltistentertaifimentffor‘ ' y
Katie Burke’s sake, agl'itb‘ecame'the fofinda'é.
tion of anotherwell l", d plan duriligrthe day;
which, if carried cud-would make hcr'suecess
doubly sure. E5" "*1“ “" i"
“Oh, Constance, will
was dressing, "‘Iellatecfi’ith _me' Eifmnd:
mine, who wished meld get it resét‘forjre‘é
at the north. It carrierfiomc from thjeyigl-a'.
ers yesterday, and has chn a .30me ;
ty tome ever since, foryear it wolf” , "
get lost or stolen. I'dOgnot dare 12531735111
my room to-night, as the room is to .b‘mpen
for a dressing-room, and (there are’ikitbc
strange servants in tl" '_. house. I “fish"you-
would wear it for tormgllt'under your: glove. »
I would wear it mys: but it, is too small for
me. Will you do' {lien-(37mm, oddsmi”
I shall feel quite easy then.”
“Certainly I will, if it will,afford you any
relief. Where is it? I should not think it
would fit my finger if it does not yours,” s‘aid
Constance.
Clare placed her own engagement ring on
the forefinger of Constance Ashley’s left hand.
“You had better wear it there,” she said,
“for I fear it might got injured if you were it
on a finger with other rings.”
“Oh what a lovely stone, and what an ele-
gant setting,” said Constaneejls she examined
the ring.
“Yes, it is very valuable indeed. It is an
heirloom, and I would not have anything hap-
pen to it while in my possession for any-
thing.” .
“I shall be careful to return it to you he-
-forc I sleep,-” said Constance.
“Don’t do it before, I beg of you, for I
don’t want any care of it this evening—it
would spoil all my flm. Lucky you are to
wear gloves, as otherwise your friends might
think you were engaged.”
“I shall be very careful to keep my gloves
on, I can assure you,” laughed Constance, the
color rushing to her face.
“I must go‘ this minute,” said Clare, or I
shall not get dressed. Many thanks for the
relief you have so .kindly afforded me by
wearing the ring. Oh, what color are you go-
ing to wear in your hair ?" she asked careless--
ly as she was leaving the room. “We will
not wear the same. I thought I should wear
pink, but I will wear something else if you
wish to wear it."
“I think I shall wear red.
rose with some smilax."
“That will be pretty,” said _Clare, as she
hurried away.
Just before it was time to descend, Clare
went again to Constance. In her sleeve was
concealed a white rose. '
“Are you ready,‘dear ?" she said. “Let me
see how you look. Lovely as usual—but, if
you will allow me, I would suggest that the
flowers in your hair be placed a little lower.
Sit down here and I will arrange them for
ou.” .
“Certainly,” said Constance, “and thank
you, too. I could not arrange them very well
myself." l
“If you will turn y-bur head this way I can
see better,” said Clare, turning her from the
glass. “There, that is better.” At that mo-
ment a call from Richard hurried them from
the room, and, without another look in the
glass, Constance descended with Clare.
Clare Whaitlcy, why does not your face in
redness of shame rival the rose you hold
crushed in your handkerchief? . YWhy is your
face nearly as white as the rose you have
placed in Constance Ashley's hair?
Constance entered the crowded room lean-
ing on Philip Bradley’s arm.
Donald Lyon was Clare Whaitley’s escort.
Clare watched him as he gavei'ian eager hur-
ried glance toWards Constance, who wasafew
steps in advance of them. She saw the look
of disappointment on his face as he beheld
the white rose. Then was; her time.
“Ah! Isee you are lookihg'at our lovely
Constance. I do not wonder that Bradley
looks upon her with such pride. They will
make a splendid couple. I yvish you might
have a’vpeep at the elegant .diiihiond she wears
Perhaps a red
, for the first time, tonight. ‘ Mr. Bradley must
have great wealth to spend such an enormous
sum for. an1 engagement ring. Constance
seems radiantly happy, andI am glad for her
but do not see why she kept her engagement
secret." .
, Donald Lyon listened as if he heard not,
and yet every word fell distinctly upon his
ear. The face turned ghastly pale. “It is
stifling here; Miss Whaitley,” he said, “let us
- go' into the hall.”~ I'
. .“Irfear you, stroll], in. Lyon,” said Clare;
you are loqkins Pele-”i ,
_-/,“1' output well,- andl‘, should not have come,”
.0.
Q -“ .'-Ic.li1irdl"' 11939“?
_ ‘ y met Mr. Deane,
“I am sorry,~but 'I belie'y‘fi Lam unable to re-
main' this fivening. ‘ Excuse me to the ladies,
please,” and gracofdlly, handing Clare to her
cousimwfint to the dressing-room and in a
{f'ewi'miiments was’omhifi way home.
As soon as possibki Mr. Donne told his wife
and Constance oWOmTld’s illness.
. York.
I «‘13-. 1g}. .-
. you do mes exert: :
said Clare entering/tho, former?s.room~;as she, ;
:5: non;
“I did not know of his arrival,” said Cou-
stancc. - '
“I think he did not enter the room at all,”
said Richard. “I met him in the hall.”
“Oh yes; he entered the room with me,
and was coming toward Constance, when he
suddenly turned pale and hastened out," said
Clare who was standing near.
Constance felt relieved at this. He had
seen the rose, then. She devoted herself even
more carefully to the entertainment and com-
fort of Mr. Bradley, feeling glad, on the whole
that Donald was not there.
“Constance,” said Clare, after supper, “the
flowers in your hair droop sadly; shall I-not
put in some fresh ones 2’”
“No, I think not; but if you will take them
out I will thank you.”
Clare removed them and quickly threw
them out of an open window near.
“0, Clare, that is too bad; I wanted the
rose,” said Constance. '
“You silly girl; get a fresh one from the
c‘onservatcry,” said Clare.
“Oh, it’s of no consequence," laughed Con-
stance.
“I think,” said Richard, the next morning,
“I will call and see how Donald is, as I go to
the train” ‘
“Mr. Lyon left early this morning for New
Important [business must have de-
manded his atteiitipn as heileft very suddenly,
saying he didactknow when‘lle-should re:
turn,” said Mrs. Atwood, the housekeeper, in
Will‘to'Riéh'al-d’s‘ihquiry for Donald. ‘
. “How did you find Mr. Lyon this morn-
ing ?" enquired Mrs. Dean? of her husband;
“I did not find him at all. He has gone to
New York on business,,so I suppose he must
be better.” ,
“When will he be home," enquired Clare.
“I do not know he left no wor ,4:
Constance did not feel at all disturbed by
Donald’s movements. She had perfect confi-
deuce in him. .,
wTwodays after this Clare suddenly made
up her mind to leave Chester. . .
“I think I shall spend a few days in New
'York on my return,” she said. “I have
heardof the arrival of some of my southern
friends whom I should like to see. I fear if
I remain I shall miss them. ‘
The first thing Clare didon reaching her he-
tel, was to ascertain if Donald Lyon was there.
Yes, he was there. At supper she met him
and. expressed great astonishment at behold-
innr him. - ,
Donald was equally surprised at meeting
Clare. “I thought,” he said, “you were go
ing to make quite a visit at Chester.” ‘
“Well, to tell the truth, 'Iwas a little home-
sick and thought I would come here for a
change. Ido not know but I will beashome—
sick here, as I have no friends in the city."
“ Excepting myself,” said Donald. “1
shall remain here a week or two, and am at
our service. I see there is some attraction
at theAcademy to-night, and if you please we
will go there?”
Clare could hardly conceal her triumph as
she accepted Donald’s invitation.
, ’ “To-morrow promises tobe fair,” said Don-
ald on their return from the concert. 1 “Sup-
‘ ' ‘ .we ride to the park in the mormng.”
“I should like itmuch,” was Clare’s answer.
“Then we will go.”
week Donald Lyon devoted himself
61),, ' but it was, simply a polite devotion,
“(1913383, ““fidenc'e was beginning to be
somgwhat shaken, .
.0139 fervently da Don .,
iohfé-waiting ffor co ee tobe‘bro
1 an ' up: rom his paper his eye fe
,ghilicgfimdlzy, sitting quite near him. He
fwasnot, at all acquzun' ted. with hun,f but a
strong desire to hear from Villa'Doane im-
pelledihim to accost him. In a few minutes
the two gentlemen were in conversation.
“Chester—is art-slimming place,“ said Philip.
gion of Villa Doane. Allow me, Mr. Brad-
le , to congratulate you on your engagement
Wlth Miss Ashley. You have won a rare
gem.” '
“I but your pardon, Mr. Lyon, but I think
you areIaboring under a mistake. I am not
engaged to Miss Ashley, but to an intimate
friend of hers.”
“Excuse me," said Donald.
misinformed.”
“So, Clare Whaitley, you have deceive me.
It remains for me to find out how much," said
Donald to himself, as he packed his valisc pre-
paratory to leaving in the night train.
“I start for home this. evening, Miss Whait-
le ,” he said to Clare, as they‘ met at dinner.
“ lave you any word to send to Villa Donne?
B the way, I met Mr. Bradley today,” he
:1 (led, looki , directly into Clarc's face.
Clare turne ashy pale. She knew Donald
had found out a part of her deception, at least.
“I do not think of any message to send,”
she said.
Donald politely bade her adieu, and was
.soon on his homeward journey.
All night, as the train rushed on, he was
busy with perplexing thou, ht. That Clare
had told him a deliberate fa sehood concem-
ing the diamond ring, he lull in doubt, but
that she had anything ti do with the white
rose did not occur to him.
Before his journey was half completed he
had decided that although Constance was not
engaged to Mr. Bradle ', yet she did not care
for him. “I may retain her for a- friend, al-
though I mcly not hope for more than this,”
thought he. ' '
Constance Ashley sat alone in the library.
Mr. and Mrs. Doanc were spending the night
“I have been
' in the city. While her hands were busy her
thou hts were busier. Wh had she not
be from Donald Lyon ? e must be ill in
New York. _ He ought not have gone while he
was sick. "
In her hair, Constance wore a red rose ——shc
seemed to prefer red roses lately—no one but
herself knew why.
The sound of bells and the rapid coming of
a sleigh along the avenue caused her to start
and listen. ‘Amoment later and Donald Lyon
stood before her.
“I am glad to see you," she said.
ed you were ill.”
“I have just returned from New York," he
said, “and being impatient to see you all,
drove over immediately after’dinncr."
As he spoke he glanced at her hand, on
which was no diamond ring—then at the rose
in her hair.
“Where are Richard and your sister," he
asked, as be seated himself by the fire.
“They are in the city, at a friend of Rich-
ard's. for the night.
“Will you. allow me, Miss Ashley, to see
the diamond ring you have been wearing latc-
ly,? I have heard it was very elegan ."
“ h, tint was Claire’s, or rather i .. ' longed
to a friend of hers. I wore it one evening for
safe keeping, at her request. "
“All! then it was not an engagement ring
given you by Mr. Bradley, as I was informed.
supposed it was."
“Why, how eclhl you, Mr. Lyon, when
you saw—you could not have supposed me so
unwomanly as to—,” faltered Constance,
turning crimson and leaving her sentence un-
flnislle .
When I saw what , Miss Ashley? Do you
mean the white rose in your hair?”
“White rose in my hair, Mr: Lyon ?” said
Constance in unfeigned astonishment.
“Yes; did you not wear a white rose the
night of the party ?"
“Excuse me, Mr. Lyon, I do not understand
you. _ I think we will not talk of roses any
more.” ’ . _
“Excuse me, Miss Ashley but I1 think we
will talk of roses. Be 30 good, I beg of you,
as to tell me if you did not place a-white rose
in your hair ?”
“I did not."
“You. wore one.
placed it there.”
“No. Clare Whaitlcy rearranged the flow-
rcs for me." ' . _ / -\
“All, Clare Whaitley’. She it was who told
me 'of your engagement to Mr. Bradley. The
mystery is solved. She must have seen the
“I fear.
Some one must have
flowers, substituted white for red. as it
red, Constance, m darling,” . said Donald,
rising and looking own into her fair, blush-
in g face.
night what you meant to wear that night?
Take it out, if it is n0t,”'he added. ' “
The red rose nestled undisturbed in the
bright hair which Donald Lyon stroked al-
most reverentl in his great happiness. _
“We can 0rd to forgiveC re,” said Don-
ald. “Poor girl, shcglayeda desperategame
but the red rose won, id it not 1’” _ «7 ' .
“Yes, we are too happy not to for-giro,”
said Constance. ' j, - ,7»
Three months after the engagement of Don-
ald and Constance, the marriage of Clare
Whaitlcy and Charles Kingsley appeared in
the papers. ' . -
“ wonder what Mr. Kingsley would say if
he knew the story of the diamond ring," said
Donald.
where roses red and white bloomed the year
round—Baton Traveller. ,
\
._.,“,Xe§..it is a lovely place. -.I do not _won-'"
der you find it attractive, especially in t e re- ' '
note I sent yen, and,when she rearran ed the.
“Tell me, visthe color you wear.to.,_ ‘
The next fall found‘Constancc installed the ‘
honored and beloved mistress of. The Oaks, '
'reasonnble. Atlrst-class livery ate
4, 1876.
NORWALK GAZETTE,
PUBLBHED EVERY TUESDAY Milli".
The Second Oldest Paper In the Stale.
OFFICE IN GAZETTE BUILDING.
A. H. BYINGTON &. CO.
A. ll. lllec'rox, J. B. Em, C. N. Ems.
Subscription $52.00 per ytar, III advance.
Single Copies 5 Cents.
—”+" ,.
Advertising Rates:
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Specl ll Notices 'Z-Ilfibcl'l'clll. aduuu-e on the
aim vc. ‘~ - - .,
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nlittcd tomalle monthly eh urges of their adver-
Clements.
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'All unusdil cuts and devices 25 per cent. extra.
News: .Hotel.
ORNER of River and Wall streets, Nor-walk,
Conn, opposite the Danbury .‘h Norwalk itali-
road Depot. The subscriber has taken the above
well known and popular Hatchan establishment
calculated by its central positionj'or the acommo-
(lotion of permanent and transwnt guests. The
rooms are commodious, the table cod, the prices
is luonnectell
with the Hotel. Carriages in readiness at all tunes.
' , . LEROY TAYLOR, Proprietor.
Norwalk, Conn. April 16, 1875. . _ . ' 3mm
GONNEETIWT HOTEL,
Corner Main and Wall Sts., NORWALK. CT.
HE subscriber having taken the above, well-
T known centrally located Hptcl, “prepared to
entertain permanent andtranslenttguests. ‘ (100d
rooms; good table: reasonable noes. A first.-
class Livery connected with the oteln Carriages
to all trains. Eveliy effort made to lease.
38tt‘ D. . MOREIIOUS , Proprietor.
ALEX. S. GIBSON,
Organist of the First Congregational Church.
Teacher of the
Plano-Forte, Organ and Musical
Composition.
Box 379 P. 0.. NOR‘VALK, CONN.
CHARLES w. MANY,
Surgeon Dentist,
NORWALK, (zonal.
011cc corner of Main and Wall Streets. Nitrous-
Oxitle Gas administered.
0. B. countries,“
MIST-
SucCessm n.
‘1)r. Asa 1-1111, .
WALLLSTREET, NORWAI. 2
Office. over ' .-
d. J'.’ cmmauw=m~raomrsarms-«s
la” Gas administered for extracting teeth with-
out pain.
. -
may 52,, -a
EDWARD BANKS,
CIVIL EINGIN leCli,
Alli) BOROiliil-l surveilla,
Office at residence of B. 0. Banks, Main Street:
Norwalk, Con n.
GAGEINSLEE,
aneur'rac'r,
70 1330.11) WA 1', NEW YORK.
Realdeuce, Stamford, CL,
Speplal :tttcutiuu paid to country resilience: 2-1:.
S a W. MITCHELL,
a
At the ever popular
UNION MARKET
has always the best of
Beef, Veal, Mutton, and Pork,
at fair liviu prices. Union (formerly Model) .‘Jar-
ket, on the ridge. 18
Quantum s. Loo-rumor).
Fashionable llruper .‘lr. Tailor
AND
GENTS’ FURNISH [NO EMPORIUJI,
Main Street, Nor-walk, (unn.
N or walk Fish Mar/tel.
" HE subscriberhavingboughtout the old Bridge
Fish Market, of Rufus Adams, lutendekeepiue
constantly onhand all kinds of
FRESH FISH, OYSTEBS,CLAM§,&6.,
and allvarieties ol’chuice 53""; t. VEGETA' ES
intheirseason. CHARLES W. LOUKWUI) ,
1" Spring Chicxeus Dressed to order.
lpna’aun P. WEED,
DBUUGIs‘I‘,
West Street, opposite Nor-walk Opera Home
A large and wellsclcctedatuck ol
DRUGS AND MEDICINES
Perfumery, Patent Medicines, all kinds, Aline”,
Wetqu‘oiletaud lludlcrltcdsoaps, n‘lavorlnc am.
Handkerchief Extracts. flair Brushes, combs,
Sponges,,Chamois Skins. Stationery,uigan-, .u- ,
sud-is constantlyaddiug to his stock all the new and
popular medicinesol‘ the day.
”DRUGS AND .unnwmlr-ls.
lllf undersigned would respctfully announct to
the citizens in this vicinity,thal at his
Drug Store, -
CORNER OF WASHINGTON AND UEPU'I i'l‘b.
can always be round
PUlllc: D1?U&.~_
CHOICE \VlNES and LIQUOR:
! FOR MEDICAL PURPOSES, .
(ill .VO’Y AND TOILET ARTICLES
PATENT MEDICINES, rte.
I?".‘uysielaus’l‘rcscriptiouscarefully-:ompoun.
edday and night. Can be found nightsfluslm-
outlding,entranceou Washington St.
”49 S. F..PECK, Souzh Sol-wall: Conn
B. S. BIAS‘CEII,
At h lastorein it ALLORY’S BLOCK,hascoustaut
” ly on I 'l -| :l a general assortmeutof .
GROCERIES;
. CBCCKERY, GLASS,
TIN AND WOODEN WARE, £10.. ETC
By devoting his constantpersoual attention to the
huslnesshe hopes to merit‘puhlic patronage. 9
Emir INSURANCE. co., or nanrronn,
Incorporated 1519. ‘ CharterPcrlletual.
Onpunlnnd-Assets, $5,052,880.19
[usurelagalnstlossand damage by Fire, onterms
idopted to the hazard ,uud consistent with the lawa
ofc’ompcnnatlon. COWLES .9 ill ERRIIL.
' SoleAgentstor Norwalk and vicinity.
Nonmtulnsnaancacoaeam‘; .
NORWALK, CONN.
charter annual-6 '- - - $390,004:
Pdldupcpplluhn-g- - - - $l=00,000
War. 0 .Srnulm'resldeut, (530. It. CoWnas. Scc’y.
Enlrn'lllnn. Treasurer.
59/343
REAL ESTATE.
\J\I\l\l‘
\J \I‘J\N\l m/v
A BARGAIN.
FOR. SALE—A first-rate built House, (on East
Avenue.) containing nine rooms; will be let
Also BUILDING LOTS for sale. ‘
Apply to D. II. FITCH.
Norwalk, Nov. 27th, 1875. 48tf‘
if not sold.
TO LET.
r tlllfi First or Second qlory of a house on East
_ Avenue. Enquire ol J. l'. HAN rUltI). 4943
rust-cuss anus: FOR SALE.
N EW, FIRST-CLASS HOUSE located on
1 West Main Street, is offered for sale. Said
House contains lll'teen rooms besides closets and
wardrobes; cellar under the whole house, with
room for a large basement kitchen, and dumb-
waitcr, and has a lire-place built for a range;
piped throughout for gas and water. It is built so
as to be convenient for twofnlnilicsil’ desired,
having a kitchen and pantry up stairs. and sepa-
rate stuirways. The water is carried up to the
second liner, and the waste water carries out the
water to the ccss- 00]. The house is built of the
best materials ulll In the best manner. It is now
being finished and will be ready to occupy Janna-
ry lat, 1576. To one wishing to purchase a new
first-class place at a moderate price, in one of the
most desirable locations in town, this presents a
good opportunity. If not sold within two months
will hull? it to a responsible party at a moderate
rent. Enquire of Mill)? EATON.
erwulk. Ut'Ct'lllbel‘ lst, 1875. 49
1‘27 15.2 “3.“. LE.
' \WO very desirable iluil-linglmts-On WestMain
Street. Appl) all the UAZE'ITJC OFFICE.
" rci; 53.1.1.1; CHEAP.
15 "I ‘UUD l-‘A HM of about 40 acres 01' high land,
as. situate d three miles north of New-Canasta.
‘Apply to A. B. BENEDICT, Smith’s Ridge.
l-‘O I: S A LE.
NEAT RESIDENCE on one of the best, pleas-
antestand most accessible streets in town.
”a: eight rooms. with gas in each, and heater cu-
‘Illhlu or healing the whole- house. Large burn
a llil stablulg for several horses." Apple, l'ear auu
Ullul'l‘g Trees, just commencing to ear t‘ruit. 1r
“‘lllllll lire lninutcs’ walk of the Post-Office, the.
Price $7,500. Or will rent it to a good tenant for
45mm pm year. Enquire at this ofiicc.
["031 SA LE OR TO REST.
large and convenient pantry and two closets,
sinks, .\".c., on first floor.thrcc rooms-mid two clos-
ets on second floor; dining room wail'lscotcd with
black walnut and cedar, kitchen wainscotedwith
pine ; gas-pipes throughout the house; water
pipes, Ate..- sltuaterl on Fair Street, about half a
mlle from the Bridge. in a very healthy location.
It‘ sold. alargc part can remain on mortgage; If
not. sold soon it will be rented on reasonable
L
terms. 8 . . ELLS.
BARN To Barren new Barn with good-Sta-
bhng for seyeral horses, near the bridge.
_l’rice 38 per month; Enquire at this Office.
newton your WATER rim.
Wm. Glover a: Son,
Are readytd put in your WATER, STEAM or GAS -
PIP-Etfat‘varv short notice and at as low a nte as_
anyone. \‘ROUGHT AND CAST 1110i , TIN»
LINEUFL A'D PIPES, &c., of-every size and de-j
scription. PLUMBING in all its branches. »
B. J. STURGES,
BROKER,
Olllee No. 4 Gazette Building,
_ N03‘VALK, CONN. . ‘
At ofiice Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays,
and every evening after 5 o’cloc .
, Property hen ht. sold and exchun ed. ’ .
- Connecticut ‘arms wanted for New )ork city
ropert . - .
p Notary): for City and County of New 1 cork.
ins-unsucs.
Lancashlre of Eliglnnd Capitalism 000,000.
Scottish Until merc'ml, Scdfland, capiil. 510,000,000.
Niagara of New York, assets, $500, .
Men-t ’lita’ Plate Glasslnsnraneeflompan .
of New ork, apltul $100,000.
10 PER CENT? INTEREST,
Fir t Mortgage (.u farm-lands.
R" Per .031 Ch" 5:. l '
no 3-»: use. SEC‘UEI’EY.
Havin made arrangements with HENRY
OLE WS 00., well known tankers, to safely in-
vest money at the above rate, we earnestly beg 1n-
vestors to call and examine at the office of
Wilson & llurlhutt,
GAZETTE BUILDING
J. BBLDEN HUBLBUTT.
Dorlon House,
'G R-EGOR‘H’S POI NT.
THE subscribers would respectfully announce
that the ; ove house will be kept open during
the winter season, for lheacconnnodation of l‘leaz-
uro l‘arties. Guests will be served at all tune;-
Willi dinner or supper, and everything the season
all'ords. The llouse \\ ill be louu-l warm and com-
l'urluble at all times.
31114:! F. F. S'l‘l-Zl)M.\.\‘ & SOS.
FRANCIS J. MOSE'JN. _
Draper and. Tailor.
A chum: :erclion of new and fashionable goods
eulix-tantly on hand
nuonl No. l, Gazette Building.
Lawohsrw
PHOTOGRAPH GALLERY;
No. 13 Main St., Norwalk,
(over G. St S. H. Holmes’ store.)
-I. 1“. Langley would respectfully infOrm the in-
habitants or Norwulk and vicinity that he has en-
larged and remodeled the above Gallery. and Is
now prepared to make all kinds of pictures as good
as the best, at the lowost prices. Copying done
and enlargements made from small pictures, and
colored in lndia Ink, Oil and Water Colors. Views
taken of residences on reasonable terms. .Stereo
scopic V iews, Groups and lnterlors made. Stereo-
se .pie View: of Norwalk at 25 cents each. l‘lease
_ gin: me a call. Satisfaction guaranteed.
yl-l
-_\ .l'R‘ICE '1‘0 PATRONS.
Till. aUlzst‘ltlllElt is now prepared to furnish
8an Water Igull Haul Beer ;
STEEL F0 UN’IAINS,
Id any of his Customers or the Trade,
S. URUMMAN.
I. F. LANGLEY, Photographer.
5i 5-. Main Street, Norwalk.
motion.
The lail'ieli tn. Salinas Ball,
Thursday Hotelier Isl, I814,
In the Banking Rooms of the Fair-
field 00. National Bank.
llTEIEST will BE AHEWED'IH All BASES "WM
THE'DATE (if DEPUSIT.
Business hm; rs from ll. A. BL, to. 12, M.; and from 1
o‘clock, l'. l\l., to 3: and on Saturday evenings
I'm a I; to 5 o‘clock.
Wm. li. JAMES. President.
“3: CHAS. H. STREET. Treasurer.
USE
AVER} LL’S
CHEMICAL PAINT !
THE BEST IN THE MARKET.
It is more beaulil nl. more durable, lowerin price.
is all ready for use, does not wash by rain. best
wood preserver. is water and tire proof, and is the
best for general uses, either for wood. iron or
brick buildings. Many of the finest residences in
town are painted with
A'VERILL’S CHEM [CA I. PAINT
Put up ready for use in poll: of l. 2 or 3 gallons
kegs ol‘ 5. 10 or 15 gallons”, half lull rels or barrels
All orders promptly filled and any information
-given by applying to
D. H. WEBB, Sole Ag’t for Nulwalk
Office west end of Bridge, SOUTH multwnlfi
'FOR 'Itfiilflli coax srovr
GO Toucannxfs.
A FRANCIS 'McKEON, Jr..
PracticalgPlumllgr ,
PLUMBING in all its BEAN
Green Houses Pitta}!
Orders‘lef't at Shop on School ’2' . on hints
at Bolden’s Tin Shop. Jobbing prom fly attended
’ 319
to. . .
GO TO BELDEN’S
and see the new
i
Hot Closet Range.
" I’NéwiBarber Shop
" Mnnovs'rus HAPPLE
' ‘Huvlng t’ak'en the Shop formerly occupied by Mr.
Ed. Appell, in Isaaos’ BLOCKJVAD STRELT,
i's’now prepared to serve the public la the best
manner as regards anything in the Tonsonal Art,
‘ nnrl intends making it the
jafiosr. Popular Shop in Town!
‘ ”The Salem lumen tarnished thronghbutm‘nd
will he kept neat and clean. Shaving, Ilair'Dress-
in . Dyeing, Cutting, &c., executed in ll. pains-
ta In" manner bv competent assistants.
Cali’and give him a trial.
~' AGUSTIN P *PPLI.
NEW uoo’sn. well linished;‘4 rooms and i
REAL aunt llama ..
Are you going to Paint?
T0 at Ammm .
Dark-sorrow’s sable, winghnth (53st; _ l. :
It's shadow o’er thy'pleasanthpme, ,, . .5
Fond memory dwells on by-jpned’sys, I, ‘ 1
And backward still thy thought? dogoam...
But yesterday thy healto'erflowed . A; |
With gratitude, for health radioed . '
To him who-dearer was then liféi ' -- , , '
Tho usaidst “How can I tllallk‘flleey Lord? ‘ ;'
All! then, how little did we think! ‘ i
The Lord would at thy hand‘regglirfi , . j
A priceless gift; most dear to Mei” T 1
The object of thy soul’s desirc '
Give me thy child; tlly.precimmy£ i
The child thou dost so fonfly 10799),
I’ll hear him to you world 01%,“ 1‘ ‘ .3. .
I’ve need of him in heaveWV“ ‘ ” .1
“The Lord had need of him." Blamed
That Thou had’st ever ought Md. ‘ .3
Of which thy Saviour was in.need?.
Could’st thou deny thy Lord's request?
Although it seemed-thy heart. wmld break.
If robb’d of thy sweet, lovely, boy ,
Thou kuowcst he was but lent to thee.
To train him for ocean joy. ’i' "
A bud tooiragile arid'too fair,‘
To meet earth’s rude and chilling'blilst. -_ J
Fitted to bloom in Paradise,
Where no dark clouds can overcast.
I know thy heart is wcunded sore,
, Cans’t thou look through-thy tears
Thy darling on thy Saviourfs breast—.- I, .
Treasure laid up in heaven for thee ? -‘ n. m 12‘
"Safe foldedin the shepherd’s arm's,
Removed from all this werld’s alloy,
Fond mother, see! he waits for thee—-
Thy joyous. happy angel-box.
VINO SANTO.‘
BY 11. n.‘
Once I read}. strange, sweet story
of a sacred newr-Wieeé...;ii. ‘ . .
Made by peasants’on InkeGénh, “ j -- ' ‘
Brewed beneath the cross‘ ."5 £380;
Vino Santa (allied forever,“ .
Sealed with seal or things divine—
' Vino‘ Saute, Holy Wine!
Onthcfirstdays Dim = “
Onlyin‘ashiningsunx-h. , - 5 - " '
. Only inthe'dewof norm ‘--:..~.§ -
_ ~ Clusterslifted-one by 6119:; :‘t'
Thus beginsthe solemn vintage,
Vintage with the cross for sign— ,
Vino Saute, Holy Wine! . .- ..
Pales the autumn falls with winter,
Lie the grapés untouched an'd‘still ;
No man hastes and no man hinders
While their's‘ubtle juices filly
-Till the sacred day Of Christmas,
.Day of day‘s, or'joy divine, '- '
Then is brewed the Holy ‘Wine.
Past the winter, pm the-springtime,
Into summer far and—late; ~» '4
For the joy of VinoSa'nto‘? ..;.; 3 5-1 '"
Theywho long must long imd Writ:
Only glowing heat can ripen-3 '-
‘ Glowing heat-and cross’s‘zsign.
Vino Santa-Holy Wine e ‘
Dem-r to‘dny’ “18m “mfim‘
ndden seemeth thinesndmine; .’,
H." w _ ' . hall-.‘fi'ue-loi'rcté'j .
Sealed by seal and signed by sign; »
Silence, patience, from Love’sYintsge
Drink at last, in joy divine, ’ ,
' Vino Saute, Holy Wine! I » .I
,, - 4
—Sm1'bne}-’sfor Jamal
WATCHING FOR PAPA.
Up at the window are three little heads,
Lucy’s and Willie’s, and two-year old Fred's;
What are they doing there all in a-row: ‘
Rubbing up, bobbing down, every way so?
--
Watching for papa to come home to tea.
Dear is their papa to all of these three;
Which pair of little eyes sparklingand bright,
Think you will be first to secvhim' to-night ?:
Hark: who is that now whose footsteps they
hear 2’
‘ Far out are their heads stretched to 5:0 him
draw near? .. 7'
'Somebody’s papa, perhaps,-bln not theirs—
Up at the three eager faces ire stares.
Back from the window bobs each little head;
“Papa, make haste now!” says dear baby
Fred ; T
New they all see him just coming in sight; '
Hark, how they clap hands. and scream with . ,_
delight. ‘
Happy at last, not a moment to wait, .
Laughing and shouting they rush to the gut!
Joyfully papa the little troop meets, _
Each rosy mouth with kind kisses he great
Up in his strong arms he takes little-Fred.
Willie and Lucy go dancing ahead; .
Into the house now all four of them coming;
Mamma stands smiling his bright welcome
home. « '
Pulling'and tugging they make him sit-dnwn,
One brings his slippers, another his-gown; '
Round him they hover and chattcr with glee
While they are waiting the summonsto teal—'4”
Little they know how theirswe'et flying-ways
Comfort him after the wearisome dgys; _- ~
Arms full and lap full of ‘dearlittlejpets,
All of hisworries and cares beforg'ets. ,j'i _
" “ Cmraefiwqf; " xc'
. u
THE JOY OF INCOMPLETE.
' wuss. ’
If all our‘ lives were one broad glare
.O'f sunlight, clear, unclouded:
Ifall our path were smoothand fair.
1k no soft gloom enshrouded; l
If all life’s flowers were fully blown
Without the sweet unfolding,
And happiness were rudely thrown
On hands too weak for llolding— ' ‘ ‘ -- . !
Should we not miss the twilight hours,
The gentle haze and sadness ?_ ‘
Should we not long for storms and showr-rs
To break the constantgladness 2'
If none were sick and none were sad.
What service could we render ?
I think if we werealways glad, .
We. scarcely could he tender: I
Did our beloved never hegd -
Our patient ministraticdy
Earth would grow comfand miss indeed
Its sweetest cmSOhIiiOH;
If sorrow never claimed our heart,
Ap-l every wish were granted.
Patience would die, and hope depart—-
Life would be disenchanted. 7
And yet in heaven is no more night. "
Ill heaven is no. more sorrow?
Such unimagined new- delight ' - . A: .
Fresh grace from pain will borrow .. j '
As the poor seed that undergrowni" ‘
Seeks its true life aboveit,’ ' ,
Not knowing what will there he found
When sunbeams kiss and love it; '
So we in darkness: upwaf‘d grid
And look and long refinement; it,
But. cannot picture libelous, ' 3",.
Till more Of’light be giver; ' V ' '
" 1,...‘l
' Managifig ed'i‘tg— mouth
pipe: ‘ “ ere - ‘cfiron‘ . """_(-
“Have. the boys write five}:
row, illustrated with maps and». __ .
showing thatgueen Victoria in}; mm
[3.12“ 1.3%? fires.” “Yes, sir.”—-W ‘ ._ ‘~-
*~%
“1
Norwalk Chronicler