WHOLE NUMBER 1595.
From Appleton‘a Journal.
My Miss Laura.
“You are not in my world. Beale; if“
can’t understand these things at all. def“-
Though these words were proud, and the
lips that uttered them held haughty curves,
yet, the voice was very tender, for I.rather
think Miss De Neale was rather fond of. the
little girl who hemmed her handkerchiefs,
mended her laces, dressed her hair, and read
to her every night in a voice that she was
kind enough to say was low and musrcal.
I had been an inmate of Miss Laura De
Neale’s home now nearly five years. “lords
cannot tell how I loved, how 1 worshiped her
beauty, what delight it was to obey her slight-
est. Wish I could never forget the one great
Service she had rendered me.
Over four years previous to the time of
which I am writing I had been one of the
miserable, half-starved attaches of a small
circus troupe, then performing in a country
town where Miss De Neale was visiting with
some friends, who were, in their way, the
grandccs of the social world.
I was then twelve years old. My mother,
a celebrated rope dancer of that day, had
been dead only a week, and I had stolen to an
out-ofthe-way place to grieve for her.
The proprietor of the circus, a harsh man,
was unkind to my mother during her last
sickness, and I hatedhim for it. Once when
he found her prostrate and shivering with an
ague fit, he spoke such words that, if my
strength had been equal to my rage, I am
sure I should have strangled him.
“You are down on the bills; the people
expect you; I have made excuses enough for
you already.” Adding, with a brutal. oath,
“why don’t you die, and be done With it?
Poor, poor mamma! the red flew to her
white cheeks. She was very pretty, even
without the rouge and the powder. I never
saw such eyes as hers—there was a charm in
them independent of their color and depth.
Although our way of living was so rude and
wild, her manner and conversation were very
different from those of the people by whom
we were surrounded. Sometimes she would
talk bitterly of her lot, of the pleasant home
she had left; and I gathered from a few
phrases she dropped now and then that she
had made a clandestine alliance in her early
youth, and that my father had broken her
heart.
So, when the manager said to her, with
that cold‘gleam in his stony eyes, “Why
don't you die, and be done with it '1’" she
gave him a look that will haunt me to my
dying day. He may have forgotten it, but I
think sometime God will make him remem-
ber it.
That night mamma got up just before the
time for going on, dressed herself in her
playing clothes of gauze, thickly spangled,
and ranged her cheeks, breathing all the time
so heavily,moving with such an air of despcrs
ate determination in everything she did, that
it was like suffering terrible pain to witness
it. I beggedand prayed, crying like a baby,
that she would not go on. for I had a strange
impression at my heart that she was killing
herself. But she did go. Never had she
looked so beautiful. Her eyes, bright and
unnaturally large, and a singularly triumph-
ant smile, made her face one blaze. _
I watched her at the entrance. Sometimes
it made my pulses beat with a sort of rapture
to see how the people applauded, even while
I hated them for it; for how could they help
knowing how dangerous it was ? Sometimes
I felt a miserable tightening at the throat
when I recalled all she had gone through in
this company. Should I ever be able to
carry her away to some lonely, oft-imagined
retreat, where -I might live and work for her,
and she. should never dovucli'toilsoimwork
for herself or for me i’
“0 mother, come’down! come down i” I
ktpt praying in my heart.
And she did come down.
I alone saw the sudden change-the totter-
ing gait. I alone of all that. great crowd
knew that the wonderful ballance failed her
at last. that the steady brain had gone wrong
—-I had watched her often. ;
My breath left me. I gave one shriek as I‘
saw her fall—coming from that dizzy height
like some fair, broken flower, all in a whirl
of light.
I heard the cries; saw men, women, and
children spring to their feet with faces of
horror; and then I lost all power to feel.
“Why don’t you die and be done with it ‘2’»
sounded in my ears as I recovered my senses.
They had carried me into one of the smaller
tents. Several of the performers in their
glittering dresses stood round me; one, the
clown, in his harlequin robes of red and
white, bent over her. They had laid her
down upon some carriage mats. I threw
myself upon her dead bosom, and the stout-
est there shed tears at my passionate outcries.
The days passed on. It was while lying
in the dark shadow of a grove which formed
the background for our tents, that Miss De
Neale found me sobbing my very life out.
“Poor little one !” she said, and her soft
voice stole into my tortured heart like music.
.When I told her who I was, a shudder
seized her frame.
“And still you must play'before the people
who witnessed that terrible scene '1‘” she said,
pityingly. ,
“I should, have to play if I were dying,"
was my answer, “as my poor mother did."
- Miss De Neale’s sympathies were roused,
Learning that I hated business in which I had
seen so much suffering, she used her influ-
ence, and finally procured my release, offer-
ing me a home with her, which I gladly ac-
cepted, for it was a pleasure to look forward
to serving her.
I had been there a year when the Rev. Mr.
Walderon, the rector of St. Paul‘s, became a
frequent visitor, and at last Miss Laura’s ac-
cepted lover. He was not handsome, but ye;
a man of splendid presence; and, because of
his love for my mistress, and of his com-
manding figure and noble bearing, I came to
look up to him with reverence,.almost with
worship. In the grand chancel of St. Paul’s,
radiant with its ceiling of blue and gold, its
magnificently painted window, its soft,‘
dreamy light, he stood in his white robes
'transfigured, in my partial sight, to the like-
ness of a shining angel.
Perhaps Miss Laura felt as I did. She was
naturally pale; but on Sundays, and. at sight
of him, I have seen a faint, bright color fit:
over cheek and brow that made her seem at-
most ethereally lovely. .
I had been there nearly four years, an
knew all Miss De Neale‘s ways, her little fan-
cies and foibles, her tastes and inclinations,
and during this time my education had not
been neglected. I could' make myself useful
to her in many ways.
The rector came to the house three or four
times a Week, sometimes to dinner. When
this happened I had my leisure, which I em-
ployed in knitting tidies of some fanciful
pattern, keeping the work a secret, for I was
ambitions to add my mite to the Wedding
gifts. “‘
One evening I was sitting in her room, a
‘lovely, pink-tinted, fire-lighted boudoir, idly'
thinking, for I had put my work away, ex-
pecting her presence soon. ’ I had never been
happier or more comfortable. The soft
lights, the luxurious arm chair, the convic-
tion that my services were not to be dispens-
cd with,.when Miss De Neale should leave
this for a burned her own, made me thor-r
oughly andffrelfishlysat ease. y
'A knock at the door startled me, and in
walked Miss Knox, her grim face and scarlet
ribbons giving me, as they always did, a
vague feeling ofgdisquiet.
Miss Knox was the housekeeper, for Mrs.
Dc Neale had for years been an invalid.;
Strong-minded, capable, and seldom erring
in judgment, it was she who really ran the
establishment. I had always been a little
afraid of her. though she professed to like
me; and tonight the small, bright eyes,
thin, hooked nose, and lips scarcely discern-
ible, impressed me more unfavorably than
usual.
“Mrs. De Neale sent me for ‘Keat’s Life ;’
Miss Laura said- it was on her shelf," she
said, standing, as was her wont, leaning a lit-
«tle to one side, and looking from object to
object with a swift, kcen observation.
I found the volume.
“Mr. Philip Lansing has come home,” she
said, as she filliped the leaves of the book be-
tween thumb and finger.
“Do you mean Miss Laura's cousin ? Yes ——
she told me,” I made reply. v
“Did you happen to knowl that he was
old lover?"
“I only knew that he had been traveling
abroad several years—that ' all,” I made
reply.
“Oh, yes; there was a grca time about it;
she was only sixteen. Ho waited her to run
off but she wouldn’t. I reckon most of the
love was on his side. He is h‘tir, you know,
to millions, and bound body an! soul to his
“uncle. That was the trouble; Miss Laura
was not rich enough to pleasdthe old man.
and, having a spirit of her own,‘shc wouldn't
marry him. I believe they [irtcd with a
' mutual agreement of some kin‘l. I wonder
if the love has held out on his ‘pirt r"
“I how not,” I saidf'thinking or Mr. Wal-
deron. \‘
“So do I. I don’t want him tori? coming
an
between them two. But very han ome men
are so vain and selfish! I like Mr. alderon.
His folks was French Huguenot’t- so was
mine—and perhaps that's the reasoti’“
“He 'ncver would be so unprinipled," I
said, indignantly. '-.
“One can’t tell ; he certainly is 0 out of
a thousand for beauty—and that, in y opin.
ion,” she added, drily, '“is all the , rit he
has got. ”
I felta sudden antipathy to this hzauty-
man, and a loyal, loving impulse toward the
rector of St. Paul's, albeit he was by no
means handsome. I remember formiig a
picture in my mind, as Miss Knox aood
there, of my mistress and that good man
seated together in the parlor below, and an
evil, beautiful face thrusting itself between
them. -
Miss Knox left me to brood over this piece
of intelligence, and it made me very uneasy.
Whenever Miss Knox had favored me be-
fore with confidential tote-(Meta, they always
had made me uneasy. She was seldom the
bearer of pleasant news. _
The weeks passed on. I began to notice a
change in Miss Laura. She had not been
wont to sit brooding over her thoughts, but
she did now. I noticed that her cousin often
called in the early morning, and that she
spent much time with him; that, when he
had gone, she was pale, preoccupied—in fact,
entirely unlike herself. I also saw that she
went oftcner to her money desk. and that
something weighed upon her spirits; that
now and then she went out in a sort of dis-
guise; but I dared not even conjecture,
though my mind was full of terrible misgiv-
ings.
One night I sat up waiting for her till the
clock struck eleven. I knew the rector had
gone some time before, and was wondering
what had become of Miss Laura, when the
door flew open and she came in.
Hcrface was startlingly pale, and her
eyes, unnaturally large, seemed to scin-
tillate with quick, fiery flashes. For a mo-
ment I was frightened, but at sight of me
her countenance changed. She nodded and
smiled in herownnretty, fashion; then; go.
ing "straight to the mirror she suddenly
gloomed again, and began, in an absorbed
way, to pull the pins out of her hair.
I saw that her movements were not natu-
ral, that her cheeks burned now, and her
fingers trembled.
“Won't you let me do that for you, Miss
Laura?” I asked. .
“Not now—I’m in a hurry; my hair is so
heavy! It hurts me—my head has ached all
the evening. You may do it up for the night
-—there! now, my dressing-gown, child—the
easy chair—that is comfortable. I don't
often keep you up so late, chie. How cold
your hands are 1”
It was not that my hands were cold—it
was that her head was hot, it throbbcd heavi-
ly at the temples, and it almost seemed as if
the thick, warm masses of. golden brown hair
palpitated as they fell over my arm in a rich,
unrestrained luxuriance.
In my own mind, I connected her evident
unhappiness with her cousin, Philip Lansing.
Had he been troubli'ti'g her with new profes-
sions of love, or had some promisepassed
between them on the fulltillment of , which
he insisted, and by which she felt bound in
honor? More dreadful than all, was Mr. Wal-
deron unhappy on his account.
At length the long coil was combed and
carefully fastened just- above the nape of the
shapely neck.
“ That will do," she said, almost impatient-
1y, for I lingered. “I can get along by my-
self now." , , ,
As I turned to leave her, I noticed that her
handkerchief -and» vinaigrette had fallen at
her side. I picked them up, and as I gave
them to her I distinctly saw two large tears
roll down her pale 'cheeks; and at the sight,
so unusual, I could have cried myself.
"Put them on the table,” she said, steady-
ing her voice with difficulty. “I don’t want
them. ”
“Maybe you would like me to read you to
sleep?” I responded,‘unwilling to leave her
in that mood. - . '
“No, thanks; I’ve had reading enough for
one night. Oh, dear! I wonder if there is
in the worlda love that will trust-
‘Though waves divide us,
And false friends chidc us !'
What a silly song that is, by the way !" sh
added, with a weak laugh, sinking back i
the great'chair. . _
I heard one quiek,‘passionate sob, but her
face was hidden from, me, e had thrown
both arms over her-head, nd the drapery
concealed her features.
‘-I feel so sorry for you!” I said, daring
he'r displeasure; “can’tI-helpyon ?” Then it
was she answered: .
“You are not in my world, Beale: you
can't understand these things at all, dear."
I left her reluctantly,'feeling that trouble
had come—trouble between my beautiful
mistress and the rector of St. Paul's. Was
it onpccount of her handsomegcous'in? Vain-
ly I tried to sleep. The ghastly. fancy that
she was sobbing on the other side, of the wall
haunted me. What if she still laved Philip
Lansing it The grave, proud face of Mr. Wal-
deron seemed to lighten'in its disdainas I
caught myself acting the part of Miss Laura
in an imaginary dramatic episode, be learning
the fact that the woman he loved had been
wooed, almost won, and thrown . aside,'and
thatstill her heart throbbcd at sight of her
old lover.
Then I fancied myself the rector, and took
back my troth with lordly mien,- and a crush.
ed all, but dying spirit. At last, worn out
with the vehemencc of my persecutions, I
fell asleep.
On awaking, the following mowing, I
found the sun shining broadly in my room.
Miss. Laura was an early riser,-and_ must have
- rung for me. Haatily dressing, I hurried to
her rOOm. She Was-up, sitting in the‘g'reat
arm-chair listlessly, like one dreaming with
open eyes. » '
“Did you ring for me 2’!.-I.asked.
h‘I ? tes, I believe I , did," she replied,
with a start. “Dress me as quickly as you
i‘fi
(-
NORWALK, CONNECTICUT, TUESDAY, JULY :30, 1878.
can," she added, with forced quiet. “I will
have my breakfast brought up-stairs. You
can’make somaexcuse to Miss Knox—say I
am not well, and I really am not. I don‘t
care at all about breakfast, but, as I am going
out, I suppose I had better out something."
I dressed her, and had a tray with coffee
and toast sent up. When she had finished,
she summoned me again.
"Renie, ‘go put on your plainest wraps,"
she said, “and athick veil, and wait for me
in the library. I want you to go out with m
this morning.” ‘
Wondering at her manner, so quiet and
"self-contained, so almost humble, more than
at the message, I arrayed myself in a water-
proof cloak. and drew a thick veil closely
over my hat, and waited for her as she had
directed. She came in presently, habited
almost like a nun. I could see‘how white
her face was under the muffler she had drawn
across it. I
Placing in my care a parcel and a small
basket, she ltd the way, leaving word with a
servant that she might not be back to lun-
cheon. -
That hcr errand, whatever it was, was a
secret one, I knew by her manner, for she
was nervous, and evidently suffering from
some inward agitation. For several squares
we walked along silently, and, on turning
thecorner cf an obscure street,she was joined
by a gentleman whose face I did not see at
first, but whose firm, elegant figure was unfa-
miliar to me.
,I heard Miss Laura say, in answer to some
low-voiced remark :
“I can trust her—there’s no risk, Philip.”
'So this was the handsome cousin! Oppress.
ed with almost overpowering anxiety, I fell
back a step or two, and followed slowly and
unwillingly. ,Wby had she met this man in
so secret a'manner ? Where was she going,and
on what errand ? Something was wrong, else
why did he pull his but so low over his
brows, and glance about now and then so
suspiciously P »
0n and on they went together, talking but
little, and in low tones, till they had reached
the lower plane, locally and morally, of the
city. ,
The h. use before which we stopped at last‘
was som "but different from its surround-
ings. It as flanked on one side bya grim,
desertedl king warehouse; onrthc other by
an old D ch church, whose few leaning,
moss-cover d headstones. in the small grave-
yard in fro seemed sinking with age into
the yielding rf. The house was, grim and
full of scams (1, cracks; but it had the re-
deeming quail of seclusion, for it sat far
back from the- treet, overlooking a narrow
garden plat. window over the hall door
was draped witl scant lace curtain, and a
pot of geranium loomed underneath on the
sill.
The young ma with a few eager, whis-
pered words to M Laura,unlocked the door
with a key which c took from his pocket,
and we entered long, cheerless hall, and
from there the dr y parlor, in which there
was no vestige of f‘ niturc save two wooden»
chairs.
“Sit down, ,Renie, said Miss Laura, face
and mannerpreoccup ed; “I will‘ take the
things, and you will wait for mc‘xhere; I
shan’t be gone long." “x
' My heart sank as sh disappeared, leaving
me alone with my thou hts. Already ‘had
heard the tread of a ma ls foot up-sttirs,‘ and
soon, in addition, the closing of the door
above, and a lighter footstep. Never had I
so keenly experienced the dread of fatter
desolation as now while I sat in that deserted
room. Doubtless children had played init,
been a cheerful home once, as the def
ornamentation and faded frescoing gave vi-
dence of former beauty. But now the p as.
tering was broken, the walls were black
cobwebs, and the windows quite crusted
dirt. It was evident that the place had been
long. unoccupied. .
From the dim panes I could catch 2 a
glimpse of the crumbling tombstones at ni ‘
left, and now and then a passer-by enlivened
the solitude. I was thankful when a tawny
cat, with red, blinking eyes, took her station
on the withered mound in the center of the
little yard. ;
still hearing the trend of steps overhead,
and now and then the moving of a chair.
All this time, while conjecture ran wild in
my teeming brain, I seemed to see the face
of the rector of St. Paul’s. Very gave, very
sorrowful it was, and I felt conscious of a
keen pain in the contemplation of his grief.
I had seated myself, when a step on the
stairs and the opening of the door caused me
to spring up in terror. Philip Lansing stood
on the threshold, hat in hand, and his face
absolutely lighted up the room. It was, as I
had heard, radiantly beautiful, with haunting
dark eyes, all the more fascinating that their
expression at that moment was intensely sad.
“Come, Renie," said a voice outside.
I met Miss Laura in the hall. I thought
she had been crying. She handed me a bas-
ket, that seemed heavier than the one I had
brought.
“Renie, this is my cousin, Mr. Philip Lan-
sing," she said. “He has lately returned
from abroad—and this, Philip, is the little
protegee I told you about."
Mr. Philip condescended to touch his hat,
and we went outside-into the little yard.
The tawny cat blinked at us, rose slowly,and
walked away at her leisure.
Mr. Philip accompanied us to the corner,
and there stopped.
“Had I not bettter get you a carriage i" he
asked.
“No, indeed, Philip. I had much rather
walk," she answered. “Come up soon—
mamma likes to see you,” she added, with, I
thought, only an assumption of ease.
“Yes,” and he stepped closer to her. l‘l’ll
be there in a day or two; but be sure that
Miss Knox”—and here his voice fell, until,
at the last, I heard the words, “I know you
will not fail me,” eagerly spoken.
“No, indeed, I will not, Philip; everything
I can do shall be done,’.'.ifvas the reply.
We walked home rapidly, and in silence.
Miss Laura seemed plunged in :deep and pain-
f-ul thought. It was past lunch time when
we arrived, butva plate of cake, and agoblet
of milk, stood ready for Miss Laura on the
table in her room. She noticed it when she
took off her veil; her cheeks reddened, and
a little frown made itself apparent between
her brows. .
“How very thoughtful of Miss Knox 5”
she said, in a suppressed tone ; “it isn’t often
she thinks of my comfort in that way. When
I want luncheon I will. send for it. I wish
she were less oflicious. Renic, you will
oblige me if you will eat my luncheon for
me. My head aches, and I’m going to lie
down."
I drank the milk, but was not hungry, and
took the tray back ,to the kitchen. I dressed
her. hair, and was just putting on the finish-
ing touches when she spoke abruptly: ‘
“Don’t you think my cousin is fine look-
ing?" .
"He is handsome, Miss Laura,” I said.
“The handsomets man I ever saw."
“That's the general verdict,” she replied.
“But,” I added, eagerly. “I don’t like his
face; there are beautiful faces, I suppose,
one can’t like. Now, Mr; Waldcr0n+"
'“You surely don’t call him handsome?"
she. said, with, a' soft laugh, that I did. not
quite like;»then,in an undertone; “Hand-
some is that handsome does. Well, poor fel-
low! poor Philip!” she added, with a sigh,
that I could not help resenting, and fell into
,a fit of musing. Just before the bell rang
fer dinner, 'a servant came in with a note and
faded, the {int dingy, and the front door .
Back and forth I moved in my restlessness‘ »
a great armful of wateralilies. How lovely
they were! Their fragrance filled the room.
in an instant Miss Laura’s eyes were spark-
ling. Shc torc open the note with eager
fingers, read it once, twice-smiled, then
came a burst like sunshine over her face.
“Oh, the sweet, sweet things!" she cried,
in an ecstacy. “I am so fond of them!
Poor Philip! poor~—" Her voice sunk to a
murmur. . How could I think otherwise than
that note and flowers came from her hand-
some cousin, as slie placed the lilies in a
basin of water, where, with their lustrous
leaves, and long, coiling stems, they formed
a beautiful picture. , _
Philip came after dinner the following day.
A bright, well-dressed, elegant, and jubilant
young gentleman—the change was great from
Philip in a slouched hat to Philip in all the
glory of a fashionable suit. His ease of man-
ner, grace, beauty of form, and merry laugh,
made him almost irresistible. Is at in the lit-
tle alcove leading from the general sitting-
room, busy with some old lace I had been
mending for Miss Laura, ‘and I could see
them both by inclining my head a little.
They were a glorious pair, but it seemed to
me that Philip had no right there—he was
taking Mr. Walderoq’s place, and a sudden
jealousy sprang up 'in my heart, which
changed almost to terror, when the door open-
ed, and the rector of St. Paul's stood on the
threshold. ,
That same light that had come into her
face when she received the liles,.fiashed over
it again, for in the interim I caught one
glance of her as sherose to meet'Mr. Walde-
ron. I fancied there was ,also, a'timid, be-
seechinglook in her soft eyes as she came
forward, with outstretched hand,to meet him,
but the rector advanced slowly, and greeted
Philip, to whom he was presented, courteous-
ly but coldly, while Miss Laura divided her
attentions'between the two, and Philip ad-
dressed her with more than cousinly freedom
As for myself, I tried to think of manifold
excuses for my mistress. 1 would not allow
that the sweet girl at whose shrine I wor-
shiped was a coquette; and still—at least
so it seemed, to me, who sat there under pro-
test —her manner grew colder and yet more
distant toward the rector. He seemed to no-
tice the gradual alteration, for an hour had
scarcely elapsed before he took his leave.
V» “So that is Mr. Walderon, the famous rec-
tor of St. Paul’s ?” I heard Philip say, when
he had gone. .
“Yes; how do you like him?” Miss Laura
asked, with something like eagerness.
“He looks like a Puritan of the Puritans,"
was the laughing reply. “Is he always so
statuesque f”
“By no means," she said.
“He must at least look imposing in his
draperies," Philip resumed, after abrie'f si-
lence. “Well, there's no. accounting for
tastes." ,
The speech seemed to sting her, for she
replied, in an altered voice :
“That’s what I thought yesterday."
“Oh, come now ! Laura,” [he said, “don’t
be hard on me. If you could have seen
Celeste in her tropical home, in her fleccy
white muslins, her cheeks tinted with the
rich glow of health, you’d alter your opinion.
She is not looking at all like herself; in fact,
this base climate is killing her. Besides, her
faccdepends upon expression for its beauty.
Such horrible chills would make the best
complexion sallow. ”
I was all ears. Celeste ? Who was Celeste ?
Should I listen unwittingly to some secret ?
Was I forgotten in my corner? Had I better
go ? I felt reluctant to face them, after hav-
ing heard so much.
“Oh, I didn't mean to depreciate her,
And fight—heath sung, , for it had ,evide‘nfiW‘u
:"‘“O'nly to-punish me for not appreciating
your rector—was. that it i” interrupted
Philip, with a lagh. But what does a man
want of beauty ?” and I could see his con-
scious face and read the vanity even in his
voice. ‘
“Surely—but Celeste is pretty, of course,
and I hope she will be well‘ soon, poor little
homesick stranger! I'm going to send her
some lilies that somebody sent me yesterday
part of them, I mean—she came from a land
of lilies. Just where did you find her,
Philip t"
“On the Island of Barbadoes, in one of the
coziest nests you can imagine. Poor child!
-‘I don't doubt she longs for her native wilds
.—the orange trees, the shadeful bamboo, and
her hammock. I was a barbarian to covet
her.” ,
L “I must see her often,” said Laura. “1 will
go as often as I can.”
. “Thank you; you are so kind and thought.
ful. I knew you would like the poor little
wife. Sometimes I reproach myself sadly
for bringing her here, but what could I do—
starve? And we came pretty near it.”
‘ “0 Philip 1” said Miss Laura, with a shud-
daring voice, “so poor as that t"
I held my breath._ Philip was married.
then. It was his with Miss Laura had been
its see that morning. No need to fear for the
'ircctor’s happiness now—my suspense and
suspicion had been both foolish and ground-
less. -
1 “Poor, indeed I." be repeated, almost sav-
agely. . “Do you know if it had not been for
that fifty dollars you sent me, she would have
suffered for the necessaries of , life? And
when I went to my uncle, and told him I had
lost my money coming over, and almost my
life.he made mean allowance of ten dollars a
Week. What would he say if he knew lhad
married a woman not worth one penny ?"
“Hush !" said Miss Laura, abruptly, “walls
have ears ;" and then I knew that she had to.
tally forgotten my presence,‘_and I could have
sunk into the floor. I gathered myself closer
totbe wall, and sat there, sick and trembling.
“It would be a total ruin. to me if he knew
of it,” he said lowering his voice a little,
‘but I am sure, dear cousin. that you .will
never, by look or word,to your dearest friend
whisper the intelligence. I would have kept
it a secret, even from you—indeed, I would,
but that I feared the poor little creature would
die if she did not see» some friend. But to
live in this way, with a sword hanging over
one’s neck, is very terrible. Above all, don’t
whisper it to the priest,” he whispered; l’m
afraid of him,“ and I fancied he drew nearer
her. ,
“You need not be; he is the soul of hon-
or," and there was a slight shade of contempt
in her voice. . .
“But you have promised," he said, eagerly.
“And I know how to keep my word," she
an : cred roudly. .
:i‘ter thrift he was very gay, but I think his
manner jarred upon her mood. She propOsed
that he should go up-stairs and see her moth-
er, who had asked for him, and together they
left the room. It did not take. long for me
to gain my own ,room, where I sat down to
revolve thingsin- my mind,coolly and dis-
‘ ' tel . . _ . ..
paIIi-(fflgvalhertm had sent} her ~the lilies, and
the accompanying- note—of that I did not
doubt. There had p obably' been some mis-
‘ understanding the evening before, and the
gift was a peace- ifering'. Thcloversf quar-
rel, if it had taken so serious at complexion.
had been caused-in some way-by this hand.
80ch cousin, who had burdened Miss Laura
with his secret. [The rector had evidently
learned of her former attachment to 'Phihp,
and perhaps, being but mortal, was jealous.
'edime in-theopinon, as be generally staid to
tea. ‘ ' 7 , - - . .
«Now, Philip should certainly _
said Reascn andqommon-sensc. ‘ “His place
is besidcl'his‘imoor g
she is sick; and Miss
so.” ' , . ,
But Philip chose to come, often—at all
His ”woman the. aftsmmn Hid? Wfifimc
'keegp swan? .
young; wife, especially if;
Laura ought to tell him.
' I , Hubbardof Greenwich, Marie E. Ives of
hours. Philip chose to attend St. Paul's, and
.sbow his beautiful Greek profile in Miss
'Laura’s own pew, and I fancied that Mr.
Walderon grew uneasy, for certainly Laura’s
cousin did not act like a Benedict. I am sor-
ry that he gave me occasion to suspect, some-
times, that he was quite mean enough to
pique the rector by his lover-like ways to-
ward his cousin.
One evening I came down the wide stair-
case on an errand for Miss Knox. Only the
moonlight shone in the hall. Miss Laura
stood by the door of entrance, her back to-
ward me, and the words she said . came dis-
tinctly to my ear.
' “If you cannot trust me, if you cannot take
my simple word, Mr Walderon, there can be
no more between us. If you cannot trust
me wholly—" and there her voice broke. A
low murmur came in response, and he was
gone. ' ,
I was back in Miss Laura's won some time
before she came up. Oh, how pale she was,
and her eyes wore such astrained, hard look!
“Renie,” she said, “are you here 2”
“Why, Miss Laura, don’t you see me ?" I
asked, frightened at her pallor, and the way
he moved her hands. ,
“No; my head is giddy; it is all'dirk; it
is—all over. Where are you i,"
‘ I caught and led her_to’-the chair, but, as I
put her down, she fainted quite away. . That
was the commencement of a serious illness.
For nearly five weeks I subbesidchcr, listen-r
ing to her wild, delirious. talk, and, there I
lemed how devdtedly she-had loved'thc rec-
tor of St. Paul’s, and thntloomc- ctr-themed-
dling people of his cong'iégatiounhad told
him of her clandestine Meetings with her
cousin. This, with other information of a
like nature, and the foolifii freedom of her
cousin himself, had led toia total disruption.
In her grief and anger at his want of confi-
dence in her,she had forbidden him the house.
Night and day I did not leave her bedside,
till, quite through accident, I learned that
Mr. Walderon had been sick also, and was on
the eve of a journey to England.
“He looks dreadfully; you’d hardly know
him fer the same man," said my informant;
and I knew by her manner that the blame
was all laid at Miss Laura’l'door. I inquired
the particulars. If my informant was right,
he was to start that very afternoon.
My resolution was taker, on the instant.
Whether my mistress lived! or died, whether
I was violating a promised not, I was deter-
mined to see the rector Inf-St. Paul’s, and
tell him all. It took me hit a short time to
find the rectory—would be at home ? Yes;
I was shown into the li ‘ ry. There were
trunks and packages in tlfilhall, and a gener-
al confusion pervaded thcfliouae. Presently
Mr. Walderon came in. inswas. startled, in-
deed, by the change in hislloclés. .
“I have just come frodif the sick-bed of
Miss Laura De Neale," I said.
He started, made a gesgire with his hau
across the brow, as if toliiade hiaacycs, and
his lips worked. ‘_ . 4 - ..
"I heard—that she was W! he said,»alowly;
“I am just recovering froiiinkneas'myself.”.
“I think, sir, from what I have heard, you
are laboring under a mistahcn‘idew? Ibegan,
rapidly, for fear of my siesolution giving
way. “You have been wringly informed
with regard to Miss Laumiind in her delir
ium she revealed her secret.' - .Her cousin,
Philip Lansing, married a poor West Indian
girl in Barbadoes. He is his uncle’s heir,but,
if the latter hears of. this union, he will dis-
inherit Mr. Philip, who is entirely” depend-
ent. So her cousin made Miss Laura promise
to keep it a secret, and it. was her, the poor,
homesick stranger, Miss Laura has visited by
stealth—it was her she. sent your lilies to. . O
sir! you.ama.miaist§r..andil..am.&p09r.girl.,
but you never should have doubted my Miss
Laura, I do dare say that."
He stopped me with a quick uplifting of
the hand. He did not say one word, but I
never shall forget the face he turned toward
me. I never saw a countenance change so
often in a few seconds as his did.
“My good girl, my good friend!” he said,
at last, seizing my hand, and his voice was
music itself. I knew then that all was right.
Joy had restored him to his old self; there
was no need of that voyage to Europe.
“After a full minute of silence, he asked:
“How is she now; How did you leave
her ?” ‘
“They thought she was better."
“Thank God for that 1 When may I see
her ?" He was very humble now.
“I will let you know,” I said, and hurried
home to her with a heart as light as a feather.
And so it came to pass , that one day, as
she sat supported by pillows, white and
shadowy, and more beautiful than she had
ever been before in her brightest bloom, I told
her that the rector of St. Paul’s was below-
stairs, waiting to see her.
A faint flush tinged her cheeks—a tender
smile curved her lips. ,
I left the room by one door as he entered
by the other. I could not keep from crying,
and yet I was very happy.
When Miss Laura rang for me two angels
could not have looked more bl'gsfully con-
tent. And I knew what the pressure of his
hand meant as he bade me good-by. He will
go abroad, after all, but not without my Miss
Laura.
As for her cousin Philip, I trust . years may
make him wiser, but I pity the poor little
stranger who married him for his handsome
face. '
A Legal Question.
At :the last session of the legislature a
statute was enacted providing that any per-
son who keeps open, a saloon on Sunday, af-
ter having been ordered by the mayor, war-
dens or selectmen to keep it closed, shall
upon conviction be fined $100 and coats or
both. The old Sunday, liquor law provides
for no order andximposes a fine of $40. Un-
der it are brought. allth‘o Sunday liquor
prosecutions. A number of lawyers think
that the new law repealed the old and there:
fore that all cases brought under the old one
are void. A claim of that kind will be made
in the Superior Court shortly by Henry C.
Baldwin, of Naugatuck. The state attorney
will contend that the. old law is binding.
Lawyers who take this view of it say that
the'new statute is only an aid to enforce the
old one, and that strictly speaking cases for
the same offense could be brought under
both,- although in equity they ought not to be.
Some admit that there is a sufficient defect
in such double legislation to have insured the
erasure of a case from the docket a few
years ago. In these days, however, trivial
technicalities are generally lost sight of by
judges _of the higher courts—New Haven
Palladium.
“
Orr-room: BY A Box—An exchange tells
the following story of a boy who showed
himself the superior of four men:
A lad in Boston rather small for his years
works in- an ofiiee as errand boy for four
gentlemen. who do business there. One
day- the‘ gentlemen were - chafliing him abou
being so small, and said to him: '
“You never will amount to much; you
are too Small," The little fellow looked at
willy..." said he, as small as I am 1 condo
something none of you four can do.”
“Ah! what is that 2” said they.
“ I , can keep. from swearing l", said the
little fellow. There was‘somc‘ blushes on
four manly faces, and there seemed to be
very little arixiety for further information on
that point.
he rounwiu' ,are'the Connecticut girls in
'a cIass of thii‘tygnlnc‘graduates of- Vassar col-
legeithis'. year": Mary M.‘ Abbott. of ' W ater-
bury, Martha Hillard, of Plymouth, Mary F.
New Haven, Mary P. Root, of Bristol.
NORWALK GAZETTE.
PIIIISHEDEVIIYIUESDAY Mlllillll.
The Second otdeurapcr In the sure.
OFFICE IN GAZETTE BUILDING.
A. II. BYINGTQN & CO.
A. H. BYINGTON, J. B. Etna, G. N. Ears.
Subscription $52.00 per year, in advance.
Single Copies 5 Cents.
_.__.__.
Advertising Rates :
Fourllnes or less, 1 insertion 50 cts.; 3 times 81 00
0neSquare,oue insertion, ------- l 00
Per week, for continuance, ------- 50
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” “ one year—with paper - - - 15 00
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Three“ u u u u _ _ _ _ 3000
Quarterot aColunin, one time, - - - - - 5 00
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FullOolumn, one year, ------- to too
One inch space constitutes a square.
Special Nouccii 25 per cent. advance onthc
above.
Local Notices in neamgaygolwanp, 25
Cents per line. .
Yearly advertisers restricted to the business
contemplated at the time of contract, butareper-
critter! to make monthly on inges of their adver-
tieemcnts.
Marriages and deaths inserted gratuitously.
Obituary or Funeral Notices 15 etc, per line.
All unusual cuts and devices 25 per cent. extra.
Hurlhutt, Helyea & Seymour
Attorneys and Counsellors at Law,
Room No.4, [up stair-,1
an 215ml: nvrlnrno.
ALEX, S. GIBSON,
Organist of the First Congregational Church.
Teacher of
Plano-Porto, Organ and Mu-lcnl
’ Coniponltlon.
Box 379 P. 0., NORWALK, CONN.
EDWARD T. PRITCHARD‘,
(Late with A. C. Bell & 00., New .York,)
Fashionable Tailor & Draper.
Dress Suits, $25 to 835. Business
Suits $18 to $25.
Corner Wall and Water Sts., Norwalk, Conn. 24
ii. 3.60MSTO0K, M. D.
Homoeopathic Physician.
Office and Residence, Cor.:MAIN STREET and
UNION AVENUE. Ollice hours7to 9 a. m., 12
to l, and 5 to 7. Slate at Glover’s 'Grocery Store
All orders will be promptly attended. llm‘zo
C EIARLES W. MANY,
Surgeon Dentist,
sonwanx, coNiv.
Office corner of Main and Wall Streets. N "10113.-
Oxidc Gas administered . ‘ '
_C. B. COOLIDGE,
DENTIST.
Successor to
Dr. ‘As‘a Hill,
I? Gas administered for extracting teeth with-
out pain... . . .
DENTISTRY
A 2' HA RD TIMES PRICES,
For Cash. — No Credit :
All work excuted in the Best Manner, at my office
Corner of Main and Washington Streets,
SOUTH NORWALK. CONN.
T. E. SWIFT, D. D. S.
The Norwalk Fire Insurance 60.,
Has now completed its
18th Successful Business Year,
And has not outstanding a Dollar of unpaid losses
or of claims for losses.
Ill Still" “MFA" IISIIIES AI [OVER RATES.
War. 0. STREET. Pres., SAM’L LINES, Treas.,
GEO. B. Cownns,Scc’y.
“AISLES S. LOCKWOOD,
Fashionable Draper and Tailor
AND
GENTS’ FURNISHING EMPORIUM.
. Main Street,Norwalk. Conn.
ED‘VABD P . WEED,
D R U' G- G- I S '1' '
Wall Streetmppoaite Nor-wall: Opera Home.
Alargc and well selected stock of
DRUGS AND MEDICINES,
Perfumerlymatent Medicines, all kinds Mineral
Waters. oilet and Medicated Soaps. Flavoring
and Hand kcrchief‘Extracss, Hair Brushes.Combs,
Sponges,0hamoisSkins, Stationery. Ci are, &c.,
and is constantl adding to his stock til the new
and popularme icincs ot’the day.
'I‘NA INSURANCE Co. ofHABTFORD.
Incornorated 1812. - Charter Perpetual.
Capital and Assets, $6,716,893.77
fnsuresagainstloss and damage by Fire,on terms
adopted to the hazard andconsistcnt with the laws
of compensation. COWLES d: MERRILL,_
Sole Agentsfor N orwalk and Vicinity.
GEORGE ll. RAYMOND,
Furnishing Undertaker,
No. 53 DIAIN STREET,(Up Stairs.)
B. S. BLASCER,
At his store in __
MALLORY’S Bnbcn,
hasconstantly on hand, a. general assortmen t o
Groceries, tracked. Glass,
Tin and Wooden Ware, Etc.
Bydevotinghis constantpersonalattcntionto the
business he hopes to merit public patronage
Dr. (3.11. Kendall & Son, _
DENTIST
Are nowprepnr-
, ed to recei ve
their patrons at
either N orwalk
Bridge or South
Norwalk. The
senior partner
has taken rooms
0 v e r Selleck‘s
Bookstore Nor-
‘ walk. while the
_ junior retains
the old onice, Lander’s Block, South Norwalk.
Teeth extracted Without mum and all dental 0pc.
rations performed at either office.
0. H. KENDALL, M.D.,
G. S. KSNDALL, D. D. s.
P. S. Dr. C. ILKendall Will devote Mondays to
Ridgefield.
f . JothA,.Honnecker,
FOOT or MILL HILL.
Bra ad, Rolls .' mes, Cakes,0rnllers, Arc . ,b aked
fresh everyday. Everything made outot good
materialsmnd byc arefn land competentworkmen
Tryour Baking. _ . . -
w. s. dillNTABD,
General Ffll‘llllllllli Undertaker,
OPPOSITE HORSE R. R.DEPOT
fl'Ordersattended to day or night. Resident:
Main Street.3 doors from Union Avenue. .
NOW Hill it) till WATER PIPES.
Wm. Glover 85 Son,
Aroready to putin your WATER,STEAM or GAS
PIPE, at very short notice and at as low a. rate as
anyone. WROUGHT AND CAST IRON, TIN-
LlNED, LEAD PIPES. m., of every size and de-
scription. PLUMBING in all itsbranches.
. .~ . 1
LA WN M O WERS.
1101‘ 08‘. SECOND— HAND LAWN
MOWEBS. taken in exchange for the
“Kin of the Lawn,” can be, bought at ow figures
if an lied for soon. They have all been put in
good order, and are about as o‘od as new. ,
[ JOHN corsair. Norwa Machine Works.
in oodqrderJ,:Will Wings with .nll _
f the land to suit; won ex ange for civt,y gr vil-
lage iroperty on sea shore between Stamrord-snd
REAL ESTATE.
\I\I\I\I\N
vvvvvwmn1\1\
For Sale Cheap.
A VALUABLE manufacturing property. Foun-
~ dry and Machine shop, for Marine and Stu-
tronary En ne work or general Machinery. Sit-
uated on W arr. Has also Rail Road connections.
'l‘crms reasonable. E. HILL, Trustee.
27 South Nor-walk, Conn.
For Rent very Low.
NEATLY and Newly Furnished lO-Room Cot-
, tage, with all modern im rovements eligibly
srtuatcd in the Borough of orwalk, would be
rcn'ed for balance of season, for 850 per month.
Trees, ample grounds, and well of best water. the.
Inquire at office of NORWALK GAZETTE. and
To Rent.
The First Floor of a Dwelling House. with
kitchen, basement, etc. Apply to
R. L. ELLS.
For Sale.
A cosy comfortable Cottage on one of theplcas-
cutest streets in town, within five minutes
walk of' the Bridge or Churches. will be sold at
cost price. A portion or the purchase mon cy can
remain on bond and mortgage. l’ricc $6.000. En-
quire ut this Ofilce.
Farm For Sale In Danhury-
EIGHTY ACRES, two miles from village, on
main road, (near Lake Kcuosia). Splendid shade;
nice place for city boarders. Three acres in Dei-
ries. nice young orchard; meadow, pasture, plow
an, ficpéléand, never failing springs. nouse s_
s
I
go It, barnvand’aflnmssary outbnfhmr
New aven. ital) L. if. AL, Danbury, Conn.
To Rent.
Paar ofa. House, three radius right in the vil-'
Inge. Enquire at this Oi‘rlcrn.
W'antg. ' “"' '
x
_ BREE SMALL FARMS gt TUE VACINITY
0F NORWALK. '~
Three Residences t’or_salc cheap.
For particulars enquire of
16 J. S. RANDALL, 1’, O. Box (is,
Norwalk, Conn.
A Desirable Homestead tortale.
HE valuable residence .of‘ the subscriber,
pleasantly located on high round on East
Ave., in the Borough of Norwal , is offered for.
sale. The situation is pleasant and healthy, coni-‘
manding'flne views of ong Island Sound and the
surrounding country. Distance one mile from
Norwalk :‘Bnd t and the same from South Nor.
walk depot. ouse 54x50; two stories and attic,
fill in with brick, and substantially built.
Rooms 18, With all‘ modern improvements. bath
room. laundry, stationary tubs, eebee's cooking
range, hot and cold water, gas throughout the
house. _The cellaris dry, having stationary rum
see. which heats the whole house. .The attic is
spacious, and roof tinned. The house is in excel-
lent order being comfortable for both a summer or
winter residence. Suitable for any gentleman do-
ing business in New York and returning the same
day. Land about three-quarters of an acre, laid
out in lawn, fruit trees, and garden spot. A ply
to JAMES MITCHELL, Beat Estate Agent, or-
walk, or to the subscriber,
A. S. HAMERSLEY
255 Fourth Avenue, N. Y.
For Sale. '
A .Rare Chance.
llousc, Barn, good Mill-site and fifty acres
of‘land well proportioned in Meadow, Pasture
26H
A
and Woodland; also.twenty-two acres of wood-
land all situated at the head of the Borough
Reservoirin the town of New Canaan. for sale
atabargain. Inquire of Dimon Finch. George-
town, Ct., James Mitchell or J. Belden Hurlbntt,
Norwalk, Ct. 25“
Norwalk, 10th day yune 1578.
To Rent.
The second floor of a house on the» east side of
.u
West Avenue, near the 2d M. E. Church, to a small
family. ‘ Borough water. Apply at the GAZETTE
Orrrcn. ’ ""
FARMS FOR » 341313.
Enquirediias. coms'rocx,
New Cdnaan, Conn.
.. ' To Let. ,3 _
The.Pmpeiu,mth9_resrafmt.Pairr
field County National Bank,
formerly occupied by Price dc Bates, suitable for
manufacturing purposes. Also Barn on High St.
tf E. B. PRICE.
ll
Desirable Property For Sale.
HE Homestead formerly owned and now 02-
. cupied by John Roberts. For Earticulars en-
quire of CHAS. H. STR ‘ET.
Fairfield Co. National Bank.
Farm'for Sale.
DWELLING HOUSE situated in the Borough
of Norwalk, With or without twenty-eight
acres of land; said land is suitably divided into
pasture, wood, plow and meadow land. For fur-
ther information apply at this Office. or ot‘the sub-
scriber. HARVEY FITCH.
Norwalk, January 14th, 1878. 3
To Let.
Two Nicely Furnished Houses.
NE 3 Cottage, neatly furnished. with Hot and
Colquter, Bath, &c. The other richly fur-
nished, Will be rented to parties without children
onl . Both centrally located, and will be rented
to ( esirable parties at a low rent. Enquire at the
GAZETTE OFFICE.
For Sale Cheap,
0r Exchange for other property,
One of the neatestmnd cesiest little Cottages in
the Borough. Will sell to a good tenant for little
g‘rl BIB money down. Enquire at GAZETTE OF-
. I
DeSIrablc Property for sale.
A Ver ydesirable place on East Avenue.
Also. a few choice BuildingLots situated on
Osborn- Avenue, forsale cheap.
Also, a nicely located House and Lot on Mer-
wm Street near West Avenue, for sale at a bar-
gain . Enquire of
S, E. OSBORN. EastAvenne,
tfll or to D.W.FITCH,WestAvenuc.
For Sale.
,1 A House and Lot, in a healthyloeation on
HF Fair Street, above Catharine. The Bouseis
’ nearly new. well built,convenientlyarrang-
ed. and will make a comfortable and leasant
home for a family of average size. The of. runs
back to the river. There is a well of excellent,
water on the place, and Borough water in the
Street. Price low, and part of the money can re-
main on mortgage. A fine chance to secures
home. Apply at GAZETTE OFFICE. 3"
______I_
FOR SALE .
TWO verydosirableBuildingLotson West Main
Street. Apply at the GAZETTE OFFICE .
erotics warn stirrer,
has constantly in stock at his new store,
No. 9 Main Streét,
a choice and fine assortment of
Groceries,
Provisions,
Flour,
Fruit, &c.,
To which h 0 would invite the attention ol‘all who
wish to purchase first-class goods at
Reasonable Pri ces.
DRIED. BEEF. NLIC’ED. A SPECIALIY.
BES T of HA rvgllla'llg'gER lVIIOLE OR
. , Dropin and see him atohis new store
'\io . 9 MAIN STREET.
Carriage Painting!
HEN RYM'IILLY’S.
Close to Depot, South Nor-walk.
Call and examine my work and facilities for
dorng it.
Sign & Wagon lettering, tilting,
_ Glass Signs of every Description.
Carriages Stored and Sold on
‘ ' Commissron.
PLOWs 1. FLOWS!
All! new :casriiias i
E manufacture Head’s Conical Plows and
Castings. and a number of other good Flows,
and sell all kinds at the Lowest Market Rates.
S. E. OLMSTEAD & (30.,
VOL. LXINUMBER 31
038E inn 2
Bill willlll
WILL BE
Our Dollar quality for 90¢,
A G001) INGRAIN FOR 25 01:9.
ALL WOOL INGRAIN FOR 60 Cts.
And all other qualities at a similar low rate for the
NEXT 30 DAYS.
AN AUCTION LOT OF
Ottomans for 250.
Some Special Bargains in
HOSIERY
for ladies, Garland! Children.
A Good Assortment of
. , Ladiesi Suits.
in Umbrellas from '10 ch. to $3
A Large Line of FANS.
Ml BllllWN SHEETINGS AT 5 8T8.
other grades at the very Lowest Prices, at
l. Dickermai this.
Washington Street,
South Norwalk, Conn.
THE SILENT TEACHER-
Annexed are a few testimonials from some of
our prominent educators. Bead them :—
have examiner! with interest the Silent Teach-
. er and can confidentially commend it to pa-
rents as designed to furnish a scourcc of instruc-
tion and amusement to children.
II. M. HARRINGTON,
Supt. ofSchobls, Bridgeport, Conn.
.I know no method of instruction more natural.
simple and interesting. than that furnished by the
Silent Teacher. It might be used in our schools
with admirable cfi‘ect and is equally adapted as a
means of information and amusement in the/am-
riiétor ist Cong" Church 'i'AiirHAiIuLirgx'd
_ _ . .1130 cm are our t
Education, N orwalk, Conn. ' o
I fully concur with Mr. Hamilton.
_REV. C. M.SELLECK,
Prln. Selleck’s Boarding School. N orwalk. Conn.
I am much pleased with the Silent Teacher. It-
cannot fail to become a most efllcicnt educator, as
well as a constanuource of amusemml. ~
,. _ ' _ . Dr. J. C. FITCH,
Prm. Hillside Seminary, Norwalk, Conn.
Tbcfine‘sl thing in the market. No family where
there are children should be without it.
. W. H. BUGLE,
Puntorllst M. E. Church, 'South Norwalk. Conn.
A capital combination of amusement and in-
struction for young and old.
. HOMER N. DUNNING,
Pastor Con g’l Church, South Norwalk. Conn.
The Silent Teacher, or mfiod of teaching Ge-
ographyby blocks,1 heart "recommend as the
bestm the World. It on face geasure with
profit. . ' 6.13. UTTON, -
Prim-High School, Soatmalh, Conn.
I have. examined The Silent Teacher and fully
endorse its method of teaching. - L. J. BLAKE.
I heartily approve of this common-arms meth-
od of teaching Geography. 8. T. BUTTON.
Prin. Eaton School, New Haven,’C'onn. _
I neural concur in the above endorsements of
the Silent eachefi'. C. S. S,
9.,” Pastor 2d . E. Church, N orwalk, Conn.
The Silent Teacher costs but $1.00 each and it
sold only by! agents. ,The agent for this piled
wrll begin the canvas here about the 25th inst.
One good a cut wanted in every count . For
terms, &c., a, dress W. R. Price a; 00., anut'ac-
turers, Mount Kisco, Westchester‘Co.,'N‘. Y;, ‘0'!
_ -W. R. PRICE. South N'orwalk, Conn., for
six weeks only. .
Free Reading Room.
HIS is a comfortable room fitted up for the
benefit of the public generally, situated on
east side of South Main Street. over Road’s J ew-
elry Store, Clark and Lane’s Block, nearly 0 po-
site Railroad Depot, South Norwalk, Ct. t is
open from 9 a. m., to 9:45 p. m. The room is well'
lighted,warm and comfortable.. It is supplied
With four dailies, two weeklies, and several
monthly papers and journals. beside a number
ofinstructive and interesting books.
COFFEE ROOM.
There is a Coffee Room on the same floor and a
lady in attendance from 9a. m., to 9:45 p. m., to
serve HOME MADE articles mentioned below,
at the following prices :
1 Carrot Coffee, with crackers,
1 Cup of Tea, with crackers,
Cocoa, - - -
Brown Bread and Butter,
Sandwich.
Cake,
Doughnuts,
Piece of Pie,
Crullers,
5
5
5
5
5
5
0
10
am - - - - - 1
Pork'and Beans, wrth bread and butter,
Stewed Oysters, 15
.1878.
EVERYTHING
DOWN TO HARD PAN.
saturates,
VEGETABLES,
‘ l-‘BliSil risr,
FRUITS, at,
' AT THE
Very Lowest Market Rates.
A full assortment constantly on hand, freshly rc-
plenished every day, with
Choicest Pruits,Best Vegetables,
- and Seafood.
Goods delivered in any part of town. Leave your
orders freely with
’Demmon cf: Newcomb,
53 Main Street, Nor-walk.
AT
Quintard’s Furniture Rooms
will befouud a complctcassortmcntof
FURNITURE, ac,
ncludingeverythingusuallytound in a first-class
establishment, at Prices to suit the Times . Also.
a large assortmen t of
GHBOMOS, PICTURE FRAMES,
Looxmo' GLASSES, are.
Glass Plates cItto any size. Bepniringdonein the
host manner, at short notice; Also. old HalrMat-
trusses madeover as good as new. ‘
LOUINTARB’S sou.
. TRY OUR
Orange Flavored Soda Water.
M. a. c. .s. Prawn-r.
Remgval :
c. w. BURRITT
Has removed to
Allen & Price’s Buildin g, foot of
Mid Hill,
opposite his old standiwgere he is fully prepared
0 o .
PLUMBING §E.Ali.ll.f.a§f.‘giv'e"ffa
Tin Roofing, T in and ShoelIron. Work and
Jobbing. Gas Fixtures of all kinds kept
on hand. -
N orwalk. June, 1878.
RUBBER HOSE
The Gathered Rose.
Only a roseybud sweet and fair.
Down by the road-side growing,
Of other flowers, rich and rare
And cultured, little knowing;
Content its blushing face to hide
’Mong its own leaves, when straying
Bees came wandering side by side
With zephyrs idly playirig.
The rose-bud blossomed out at last
Into the perfect flower,
And plucked by one who sauntercd past
Ere it had bloomed an hour,
Was tossed ere long aside, poor thing,
Which sweeter grew when dying,
And left, all crushed and withering,
Upon the road side lying.
You understand, you say, with scorn,
While listening to my story ?
You know which rose, one summer morn,
You robbed of all its glory ?
Ah, man, the heart yen cut away
When soit served your pleasure,
My own for many and many a day
Had worshipped without measure.
She knew it not. I was not worth
The love you held so lightly;
But I could lift her from the earth,
The flower once blooming brightly—
The rose you threw _‘ away—ah, yes !—l
Again to toy with—never! '
But mine to worship and .to bless,
To keep and. hold forever,
—Eqrpcr’s Weekly.
“Freely Give.” ,
Give! as the morning which flows out of
heaven:
Give! us the waves when their channel is
riven:
Give! as the free air and sunshine are given :
. Lavishly, utterly, ceaselesssly, give!
Not the waste drops of thy cup overflowing,
Not the faint. sparks of thy hearth ever
glowing-4.." ‘t‘l'f,
Not [a pale bud from the June roses blowing,
Give, as He gave thee, who gave thee—to
hvet .
Pour out thy life like the rpsh of a river,
Wasting its waters forever and ever,
E’en through burnt sands that reward not
the giver; .
Silent or songful, thou nearest the sea!
Scatter thy: life, ,like the summer shdwers"
pouring! ' _" l ,
’What if no ‘bird' through the pearl rain”be'
soaring ? p ; ‘ ' .
What if no blossoms look upward adoring?
Look to the Life that was lavished for thee!
Give! though thy- heart should be wasted
- and weary, »
Laid on an altar all aahen and dreary;
Though from‘i'ts pulses a faint miserere
Beats to thy heart, a sad presage of fate;
Bind it'with cords of unshrinking devotion!
Smile at the song of its careless emotion!
’Tis' the stern'hymnof eternity's ocean!
Hear! and in silence thy future await!
Almost the day of thy giving is over;
Ere from. the grass dies the bee-haunted.
clover’ .,
Thou wilt have vanished from friend and
fromlover—_ _
What shall thy longing avail‘in’the grave r
Gi've! as the "heart gives, whose fetters are
.breakm'. g: ‘ .
Life, lovejind hopefall thy dream, all thy
Soon Heaven’s river thy soulfevm' sinking,
. Thou shalt know Go‘d and-the gift that He
gave.‘ ' . ' '
' ~ —Selecfed.
m n . _
A Touching Incident.
There was a touching incident of the life
of William Wirt. In his younger days he
was a victim to that passion for intoxicating
drink which seems peculiarly the bane of
our profession. Afllanced to a beautiful and
accomplished young woman, he had broken
repeated pledges and amendments, and she
after patiently and kindly enduring his dis-
graceful habit, had at length dismissed him
deeming him incorrigible. Their next meet-
ing, after the dismissal, was in’ the public
street in the city of Richmond. William
Wirt lay drunk and asleep on the sidewalk,
on a hot summer day, the rays of the sun
pouring down on his uncovered head, and
the flies crawling over his swollen features.
As the young lady approached in her walk
her attention was attactcd by the spectacle,
strange to her eyes, but alas! "so common to
others who. knew the victim, as to attract
little remark. She did not at first recognize
the sleeper, and was about to hasten on,
when she was led by one of thou impulses
which form the taming points in. human
lives, to scrutinize his features. What was
her emotion when she recognized in him her
discarded love! She drew forth her hand-
kerchief and carefully spread it over his face
and hurried away. When Wirt came to
himself he found the handkerchief, and on
one corner the initials of the beloved name.
With a heart almost breaking with grief
and remorse he made a new vow of reforma-
tion. He kept that vow. and married the
owner of the handkerchief. Well might
be pres one the handkerchief,.as he did, all
his life, guarding it with the jealous.,care
with which Othello kept the Egyptianecharma
er’s gift and “making it a darling like his
precious eye."
Neither the 01d nor the New World seems
disposed to await the promised lessons of the
Paris Exposition before makin' g expel-rm ' rents
leading to the introduction of the electric
light. One of the public squares of Madrid is
made brilliant by this means, and a synagogue
in Berlin is lighted from the outsidebyan
electric flamonpowerful that every corner of
the building is illuminated. It is said that the
Madrid light is so brilliant that one may read
small print at a distance from it of thirty or
forty yards. Experiments have also been
made in London, but the holders of gas stock
proved too strong for the innovation, and it
has not been adopted to any extent in that
country. A great manufactory in Paris turns
out what is called the Jablochkoff electric
candle whose principal merit is simplicity.
The necessity for the expensive regulators
heretofore employed is obviated, and the'
light produced by a single current can be
divided so that many rooms in the same
building may. be lighted by one machine.
The candle is composed of two cylindrical
caibon strips placed side by_‘sidc and sepa-
rated by a peculiar isolating matter. The '
voltaic arch passes bdvveén the carbon ex.
tremities, and as the candle burns away the
inflating matter melts. It is said that one
of these candles, costing fifteen cents, will
burn for an hour and a-half, and give a light
equal to 130 gas jets. Several of them are
in operation at different places in Paris lTho
electric light is beginning to establish itself
in this country. An electric apparatus giv-
ing four currents, each» running a lump of
3000-candle power, has been constructed and
exhibited in Cleveland, and will illuminate a
large carpet mill- in Philadelphia. The light
is :soft and pleasing to. the eye's, uniform,
steady, and free from flickering. Thees'ti-
mates made in'thc different places where the
electric light=is employed, of its relative ex-
pense, as commas“ "with”gas, are very vary.
ing; in one instance it is"placcd ”as low as
twenty-seven. 'Tb'ere 'is but little doubt
that for large building: .vrequir‘ed: to hebrill-
iantly lighted, for railway stations, tunnels,
bridges,etc:, the cost is considerably less
than that of gas.- The problem now is to
make it available in convenient and firemen-
sive form for general illuminating purpo'" ses
16 ' Norwalk Foundry.
MAC HI N ISTS mhixt‘lldlem"?
. , GAZETTI OFFICE
E K. 'Lockwood’s.
in smallrooms.
Norwalk Chronicler