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Llerk of the 3rd Division Court, CONVEYANCER, AND COMMISSIONER IN THE QUEEN’S BENCH 93599 oppqgifia '3. RAYMOND'S HOTEL. Deeds. Mortgages, &c.. drawn up with neat nose and duspnlch. JOHN M. IiEngM. D.. CUR. 0F YONGE AND CDLBUBNE STS., THORNH ILL. n in Chancery, Conveyancer. &c. Office in Victoria Buildings, over the Chronicle office. Brock Sweet. Whitby. GREEN‘IHTS, Bonds, Deeds, Mortgages. Wills, $10., &c., drawn with attention and promptitude. Terms moderate. Richmond “in. June 9. 1865. l R ichmmhi Han M. TEEFY, ESQ, Notary Public, COMMISSIONER IN THE QUEEN’S BENCH, CONVEYANCER. AND DIVISION COURT AGENT, All Ettore uddressefl to the Editor must be pun-paid. No paper discontinued until all nirrearages no p‘id : and [mules refusing papers without 'puying up. will be held accountable for the lubsériptlon. fiblllhed for the Proprietors by Scott. a: moughton. A‘so a Branch Office in the village of Bea- verton, Tawnship uf Thoruh, and County of Ontario, . Member of the Royal College of Surgeons ' ‘ England, Consultation: in tho office on the mornings pf Tuesdn's. Thulsdayn and Saturdays. 8 to 10,a.m. RYAN consultations in the office. Cis’h. ' ‘ ‘52 lines and under. first logbrfionu ..$00 50 Etch subsequent insertion . . . . . . . . . . . . OU l3 Tou lines and under. first insorllon. . . . 00 75 Etch mbsequent'insertlom. . . . . . . . . . . . 00 20 Abovo tan lines. first insel-(ion, per line. 00 U7 Foch subse'quenl insertion. par line. . . . 00 02 Due Column per twelve months. \ . . . . - 50 00 HIM a column do do . . . . . . . 30 00 Quarter of npolumn per twelve months. 20 00 One column pox six months.. . . . . . . . . 40 ()0 H'nlfncolumu do '...‘.u...... 25 00 Quurter of a column per slx molltlxs. . . . 18 00 Richmond H ill, June. 1565 « All advertisements published for aless period an): 'one monih. must be paid for in advance. All transitory advertisements, from strangers h itrngulur customers. must he paid for when land: d hi for inser‘ion. mails. Or other conveyance. when so desired. The Yuan HERALD will always be found to tonlain thelavest and most important Foreign and Prbviucinl News and Markets, and the groutest cnra will be taken to render it no- coptablpzto Hie man of business. and a valu- Ible Family prspaper. TIRMSvgâ€"Om Dollar per annum. in AD- vuucu; if not paid within Two Months. One DIR-i nud’i‘ifly cents will be charged. A card of ten Alines, for one year. . . .. . . 4 00 And of fifteéu lihes. , 'do ..L....,.; 5 ‘25 A cud oftwenty lines. do . . . . . . . 6 50 D’Ad Verlisemems without written directions handed till forbid, and charged accordingly The Division Courlsin Ontario, Richmond ‘Illl, and Markham Village regularly attended. 610. &.c. &c. Residenceâ€"Nearly» nppqsifgntbe Post Ofiice, Carriage and Waggon MAKER, UNDERTAKER W Aid dispatched to subscribers by the earliest DR. 'JAS. LANGSTAFF, AVID McLEOD begs to anutwnce that, he has Leased the above Hamel and fitted L up in a manner second to none an Yonge St. more he wili keep constantly on hand a good apply of first-ch53 Liquors, &c. This house assesses every aécommodntion 'l‘ravel!ers can eeiro,1h050 who wish to stay where they can nd every comfort are respectfully invited to mt up at this establishment karma. June. (1865‘ EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, M11501“? firm‘fi imam, 'll'l‘ClIEL HOUSE 1 ) turnge. Loose dees for Race Horses 1d fimk. Monthly Fair held on the premises, firfifl Iodnesday in each month. Agency as usual. :TABLING for Six'y Horses. Good Pas- ichmond Hill, June 9,1865 JAMES M . LAWRENCE, Richmond Hill, June 9. 1865. Whitby June 2,1865 Thamhill. June 9, 1865 Juno 9, 1865. GEORGE SIMSON, Proprietor Opposite tho Elgin Mille‘ Bumums wixcttom. m vwnvvx ~ wwwv _ .V‘ WNA.A\ WWW DR. HOVS¢TETTER,V TTORNE‘Y - A'l‘ - LAW. SOLICITOR RATES OF ADVERTISING. GU» mark fin.“th RICHMOND HILL POST OFFICE. CHAS. C. KELLER, ILL generally be found at home before half-past 7 a.m. and from 1 to 2 p.m. THOMAS SEDMAN. LAW CARDS. IS PUBLISHED AURORA. Rich mar RICHMOND_H1LL A Hill |IlLlI5g \. Ito. DU UU o 30 00 «Ive months. 20 00 ......... . 4000 uL-‘.§s....-- mohihs.... 18 on year....... 400 10 ..L....,‘.r:5‘25 lo . . . . . . . 650 l-lf HE Subscriber begs to inform the-Public that he has leased the above Hotel. where he willkeep constantly on hand a gond supplv of first-class blqm-ors‘: 5L0} As [his house passessvs ovary accmmnmlallon Tra- welherwcnm desire. those who wish lostay where they Can find («very comfort are respectfully in- vited to give him a call. COMMISSIONER IN QUEES’S BENCH CONVEYANCER AND AUCTIONEER; June 7, 1865. CANADIAN SWING PUMPS! This machine will b; sold cheap for cash. or short credit will begivon by furnishing approved joint notes. . Vl‘llE Subscriber hogs to inform his friends and Hm public generally, that he {we opened an HOTEL in the Vlllage of Maple. 4le Con. Vaughan, where he hopes, by nuan- liou to tho comforts of (he travelling commu- nity. to merit A share of their patronage and nupport. Good Slabling. (to. TORONTO. John Mills, Pmprictor. Toronto. June, 1665. LARGE IIALL is connected with this 1 ' Hulel for Assemblies. Balls, Concuxts, Meetings, &c. Every attention paid to the convenience and eomyfiart of Travellers, Good Stublmg and a careful Hustler always m attendance. L01- 3i, 4m Con. Muuuum, June 9. 1865. CKNOW LEDGED by 800 Farmers. Pro- fessional Gentlemen and others (who have them working in Walls. varying in demh from m to 133 feet). tn be the EASIEST White Iâ€"Iart Inn, RICHMOND HILL. Richmond Hi". June, 1865 Good Stabling aanhed and attentive Hostlors always in attendance. A Stage leaves this Hotel every morning for Toronto, at 7, a.m.; returning, haves Toronto at half-pas( 3 p_m. Richmond Hill. June. 1865. GEO. MCPHILLIPS & SON, Provincial Land Surveyors, RICHMOND HILL. C. W. J11n97,1865. 1 The Best is Always the Cheapest. P O W E l, L ' S WORKED. MOST DURABLE. and Erm- CIENT ever offered to the Public. [13“ Price 60 cows per foot. No extra charge for Top. DAVID EYER, Jun., Stave & Shingle Manufacturer Orders for tihose Pump: addrocssed to C. P0 WELL. Newton Brook. C Wi’fl receive prompt attention. ESIDENCEâ€"Lot 26. 2nd Con. Markham, on the E lgiu Mills Plank Road. Alarge Stock of STAVES and SHINGLES kept constantly on hand.and sold at the lowest Prices. Maple. June 1%. CLYDE HOTEL Richmond Hill Hotel ! THOMAS COOK, Proprietor Every Pump IVm‘rantcd, II? Cain and examine Stock before purchas- ing elsewhere. At the lowest possible rates. Saw Mill on lot 25, 2nd Con. Markham, 2; unllwseastof Richmond Hlll by the Plank Road HE Subscriber «(Tera for sale. one of John Abei‘s supeai-er Slumping Machines The machine has couplings enough to stump an acre without moving. Mapge Kep‘l on hand. SAWING done promptly ; also Lumber 'l‘ongued & Groved STUMPINC. MACHINE FOR. SALE! All persons are hereby nmjfiod not to pur- chase'any of [he Mortgages. Notes. or :ecumies of the said John Imugsta’fl', from any person or‘ persons whomuoever. Planet] Lumber, Flooring, &c. Richmond H111. June ‘26, 1865. LL PEP SONS indebted to the Esiato of the late John Lungmaff. of the township ofMarkham. are notified 710 nay .lheir debts to the undersigned only. And all persons having debts or claims against the said Estate are no- n'fie d to present the same lathe undersigned forthwith. LUMBERING! PLANEING TO ORDER, Markham. June 9, 1865‘ King St.. Elam, near the market Squaw. GEORGE MCPHILLIPS. GEORGE VVELDRlCK. Executor: ol' the late John Lnngstafl'. Richmond Hill. Juno l2, 1865. l-tf V01. VI. N0. ‘20. NEW SERIES. EGS respectfully to inform his customers ’ and the public that he ii prepurud lo do In any quantity. and on shalt notice (Em A (Mresam Richmond H)“ J. GORMLEY, RICHMOND HILL AND YONGE ST. GENERAL ADVERTISER. AB AHAM EYER NOTICE. Applytin EDWARD SANDERSON. C. VAN NOSTRANI) JAMES WATSON. Hf Lot '10, 41h Con l-lm 4-Iy 1-H l-U’ l-tf i-tf FIFTY years ago, and yet I’ve but to shut my eyes and there comes Willy over the hill, as I used to see him coming when I sat waiting for him at the farm~ house window. Sometimes on horseback, but oftener afoot, for the Hall was not very far away. Now- a-days you see the boys and tnen all alike in black, or with (maybe) a bit of gray or brown. it wasn't so then. VViIly wore a blue coat with gilt buttons, and knee-breeches and silk stockings, and buckles in his shoes, and :1 buff vest; and on gala days claret color and white Iilk.-â€"-llandsome in anyone’s eyes, and wonderfully so in mine; for] half a Quakeress, half Methodist, and never-had worn'anythinz gay- myself. Tall? Surely he was tall. Never a Haslet under six ieet, and broader in the shoulders than any of his age. Straigl‘it-featured and rosy, and just twenty-five. \Vill's father was rich Squire Haslet. and they lived at the Hall, a grand house we thought it, for we were plain people. Father 3 Quaker, mother a Methodist, and he kept to the plain dress and language all his life._ ln those days there never was a Methodist who wore gay colors or new fashions, and mother took to the poke bonnets and grave dresses naturally. So we were quiet enough, not a picture nor an, ornament in the house. Not a fid- dle, though brother Barzillia beg- ged to have one. At dusk on Sat- urday night work was put away“ and the house cleaned and not. so much as a mouthful was cooked the Sabbath through- Everythiug‘ cold; and mother put the key in her pocket and took us girls one way to Meeting, and father took the boys to Quaker meetingâ€"4w that was the compact, and they‘ never let religion cotne between them. It was all so different at the squire’s. The curtains and carpets and Mrs. llaslet’s caps all a-giow with color. And Sunday a feast-day, with more work lor the servants than other days; and guests down from the city, the pianoâ€"«such a wonder to allâ€"and the harp a-playing. They' went to church if they choose, and sat in‘ the squire‘s high-hacked pew with‘ curtains. Mother used to sayâ€" she was a bit prejudicedâ€"that what with the organ and alter cloths and fonts and carvings andi painted wtndows and gay bonnets, the Episcopal church was for all the world like a play-house. Sis- ter Ellis used to say to me, ‘For all that I’d like a pink bonnet my- self, and go where there was music in the church} Ellis hadn’ta Quaker bone in her body nor a Methodist drop in her blood. I al- ways wondcred why Will didn‘t come arwooing her instead of me. twasabit oi a thing with blue eyes and skin like wax-e-tmt a drop of color in it, and didn't there come an artist, who painted minia- tures, to our place one summer, and tell me my face was ‘elassical,’ and nearer the ‘ antique’ than any.» thing he ever saw. I was pleased with the first, but. the last worried me, for do what I could, though it sounded like acompliment. I could .Ylt' t. i“ omits rm tm'; -)l“,:,!t?’d" but. one. Trees (fist their clothing at stem winter’s call, ' Nor does a lesz remain, but naked boughs Extended fur and wide 1n bold relief, Withsmnd his angry calls, 1101‘ once relent Bold winters rude attacks, but firmer root Established by experienée, thus let us Rear up our hearts to bear life’s many ills, Yet longing for the summer flowers again. pod in twain, All gone, and winter’s cold relentless-touch, Releases me from joys, I hoped to find, Till withered herbage sullies nature’s brow, Leaves, fallen leaves are scattered o’er Each foot of earth; tllevvery grass That, looked so grecn' and lovely, now is A Lament for the Summer Flowers Gone! gone! all dead the flowers of sum- mer are, Each ,sportgd in its season, smiled and bloomed, ‘ ' 0 1 why could not your blossoms cheer me Rekindling in my hearta flame of hope, Goésamek threats to knit my soul' to heaven! Each .tiny floweret seemed a ligament. But now where are those bonds? All snap- IViumfur l/w Yorrk Harald. Hannah Fanthorn’s Sweet- heart. gfitmiure. ymuu RICHMOND HILL, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1865. “ Let Sound Reasan weigh mo}? with us than Popular Opinion.” old. and so I asked Willie, and ‘he said, ‘ Come to my house and I’ll show yo'u.’ So r'nother let me, and ' I went. There, in the drawing room, was a stand, and on it a »woman>m marbleâ€"that is, the face and neck of a woman and down to the waist. A ‘ bust,’ he called it. 'â€"-_Says Willie, "That's antique. It is Psyche, and,more like you than any picture could be.’ ‘Never like me,7 said I; and then I blush- ed. and turned away, for not a tuck- er or a scarf had sheâ€"and I felt ashamed. It was a splendid house; too grand it seemed to me to live 'in; and he took me. all over it even ‘to the hot-house, where summer flowers grow in winter time. and he put some in my hair. ‘White,’ said he; ‘you look best 'in white.’ One night l heard father and mothfi er talking by the 'kitchen lire. Says mother, ‘it’s wrong to stand in a girl’s way, though he’s Episco: pal; and think of her being mis- tress of the Hall, and riding in her‘ coach.’ ‘ Thee thinks too much of the world, Eunice,’ says my father. ‘But remember, Elias,’ says moth- er, ‘ it’s a chance that comes to few. And she'd be good to, Ellis if ave died, and the tear would be off our minds for the children. it's hard to be poorâ€"40 pinch and saveâ€" and know a bad year for crops or a spell ofsiekness would swallow all. He loves her and he’ll be good to her; and she can go‘ to our meet- ing and he to his.’ "I‘hee’ll have. thy way at last], says father. ‘But I’d rather see her marry some young friend with but oneocow and two or three acres. I missdoubt the ways of the world's folk.’ But his voice was mild. andl knew he had yielded. As for the square himself â€"a handsome, burley, red-faced gentleman with a loud voiceâ€"41s rode over one morning to see fath- er. Mother went into the sitting- ,room. and I was to stay in the dairy; but, how could I, when I :knew that my'fate was inétlie ha'- ance? Icrept into the. entry andi rummdnsmppmgwnyméaa, my white. apron lest I should cry out. ‘ My boy has set his heart on your girl,’ he said. ‘He might find a rich mate, but he Couldn't find a prettier or a better. Ifyou’ll say ‘ Yes.’ neighbor Fanthorn, I will, and his mother. Sabrina’s to he married soon, and ' We shall want a daughter at the l-Iall.’ Father said not a word for a while. He folded his hands and sat look- ing at the floor. At last he said,l ‘ Have thy own way, Eunice; she’s only a girl.’ Oh, but its sweet to, havethc first love crowned by a parent’s blessing. Well, well, with Joy comes sorrow. A month after that day Willie’s mother died.‘ She dropped from her chair at the dinner-table, and before the servant had sped across the country and] back with a docter she was dead. I wept as I stood near the "grave and saw Willie so sad, dressed for the first time in his mourning, and I had more reason to weep than I knew; for Sabrina Haslet was mistress of the Hall, and sit along in secret she had set her heart against her brother's match with As soon as she could she began to fill the house with company-â€" young ladies nearly all; handsome, fashionable, and dressed in finery and jewels; and Will must play the part of host and make them! welcome. He told me so. ‘Though I’d rather be with my Quaker beauty by the river side,’ he said; so. ‘ But Sabrina wants eompanyE to keep her spirits up.’ I had a guess that she hoped to wean him from me, butl never told him so. True love needs no ehain. I thought, and for a while he was my own1 Willie all the same. But at last? there came to the Hall the hand- somest lady of allaâ€"Miss Dorcas Oakley. She staid a long, long while; and there was dancing in the evenings and riding all day; and she rode beautifully, and al- ways with Willie. I thought to myself, over and over again, ‘does she know it is With my love she rides away as though he was hers ?' Then the Jealousy began to grow in my heart,and l was not the same girl at times. Yet ail the time he told me that 'it was fashion and courtesy. and kept me quiet while he was by. He would have me at the Hall often 'also, but Sabrina had sent no message. She was mistress of the house, and I would not go there Without her invitation. Re I pineal and grew thin. and This.) .le'rote" with a heart, torn and. rent [as never flesh could be;5 and it was sent; and though he came to the farm I would not see him; and all‘ was over between us. I waited only to hear that he was betrothed to Miss Dorcas Oaltlev. lnsteadof that, I heard, a Week alter, that he had left the country. Where he had gone and why, no one knew. VVnenl felt sure that, Miss Dorcas Oakley could be no- thing to him, or that at least they were not to be married, my heart smote me a little, and I wondered whether I should not have put my pride down a bit, and have heard him speak tor himself. Miss ba- brina Haslet did not marry. The wedding Was put off first by her mothers death and then by her father‘s, six months after; and then lolk said there was a quarrel. Be it as it may, he who was to have been her husband married in- stead that same Miss Dorcas Oak- ley. Other suiters came, no doubt, for Miss Sabrina was handsome and rich; but she liked‘ none of them, and lived in the Hall quite alone but for the servants. Bv-and- by she saw no company. and shut up halfthe house, and seemed more lonely and wretched than manv a poor woman. All her beauty left her too, and she-grew to be asharp, sour spinster. always dressed in black-wshe who had been both belle and beauty. l lived on at'_home. Ellis married, and so did Barzillai. The years did not seem to give a gray hair to my mother, nor a wrin- kle to my father. They were too placid to grow old fast. No one wondered ldid not marryp They seemed to think that having been so nearly mistress of the Hall, it was not likely I should be willing to wed for less. The Hall? Bah ! [L was Willie l‘loved and not his house or lands. One winter night, Christmas time was nearly come, and I sat by the fire dressmg dolls and tying up sugar plums in paper horns wth bit; of ribbon lor my nieces‘ and nephews’ stockings, when there came a loud rapping at the door. I opened it, and them stood an old man-sarvant from the Hall. ' I’m sent by Miss Sabrina, Miss,’ said be. ‘She is very ill, and desires you to come alone. She has something to say to you.’ ‘Sabrina Haslet sent for mcl’ I tthought, and my heart beat fast. and I fancied I hardly knew what. l‘ Ill, did you say i7 I asked. 5 Very ‘ NIASTER VVILLIAN HASLET,â€"â€"- I've thougl.t,_long. long while that the bond between us was best bro- ken. I feel sure ol'il. now. It will be better .Iélat we should not meet again ',- ,and in,,1b.is l saggym back Your {mgr "May'gpqd .fonjun‘e‘afid happidéés attend y‘op ! 'An'd with lbis‘hgyishil‘sjg ’fwhy-siel ' " ' 3.34 &. A. ._ .«cy, motherfthonght me ill. 80 I was but of.heart, not of body. And when she talked. of my wedding day my blood would boil, and I'd say, between my clenched teeth, ‘ Noâ€"l’ll marry no one who weds me because he's bound to me, and not from love.’ One night I stood by the garden pailings and looked at the stars, and as I stood there a woman in a hood came over the Ifields and stood besidevme. It was Miss Sabrina Haslet. I started as it'l had been shot; and she took oil her hood, for it was warm, and she looked hard at me. ‘. What kind ofa girl are you,’ said she. ‘What kind of'a one are you 'l’ said I. ‘Not a civil one, to speak that way.’ Said she; ‘ what I want io lrnow is thisâ€"are you the person to hold up .my brother to a foolish bond, or ilet 'him free when‘he begins to struggle. You caught him cleverly; 1and though his heart has slip- ped thrbugh his fingers you :may be mistress of the Hall yet, I suppose. Will you 9’ 'With his heart gone from me!’ I cried. ‘Has he told you it has gone l’ ‘He’d die hrst,’ said Miss Sabrina. ‘ His honor would not let him break truth with you. But 806 how he loves Miss Dorcas Oak- ley, and she is a match for him in rank and wealth and beauiy. Peo- ple are talking of it and pitying him.’ ‘Tltey shall pity him no more,’ I said. i What is the Hail] to me P’ It was my Willie’s love} I cared lor. Tell him he is lree.’ ‘ You must tell him yourself,’ she said. ‘ “you are to see him hap- py open his cage ;’ and she tied on her hood and sped away. That night there went at 1101.9 to Willie. [I waijying.toiforgivéflher; but 1. gpflulfd'_not 'heI )f speakng harshly, gr - z" ' ,A ‘ “gr gamma: 3,, But had vou no mercv on vour bro: ther? You have had time to re- pent.’ ‘, " Time 1’ she said. ‘ Yes. Hannah Fanthorn,’ it'seems like eternity; but I have sought for him in vain; for years I thought him dead. - Yesterday I learned that he is alive, and not many miles (118- tant. Old before his'time, but sti.l he lives. Look,’ she continued, draw a packet from under her pil- low, ‘in this I have written the, truth. It shall he sent to-morrew. It is directed plainly. if 1 (lie in the night it can go all the same. Will. and you may meet again, and be happy when [am under the turf.’ Then she began to wailâ€" " Do not leave me ; don't leave me to die alone !’ I sat down by her. ‘Do not fear,’ I said, ‘and try to thinkof other things. Forget earth â€"--louk tn heaven.’ I never lett her. Sitting bv her side on the third night I saw a, change come over her face, and bent over her. ' Han» nah Fanthorn,’ she whispered. have you forgiven me. P ' As i pray God to forgive me,’ I answer- ed. Them fainter still she spoke: “ Be kind to Will. He loved you. Oh! to think that I should have lost mylsoul that you might not be ‘my sisterâ€"you who seem so like one now!" 'And with those words there came a look into her eyes i never shall forget; and in the Christmas dawn she lay on my arm dead. On Sunday they buried her. The graveyard was full, Every one came to see Squire Haslet’s daughter laid in the great vault, I stood near it; but. though the so- lemn words of the preacher rang in my ear, and the cotfin was before my eyes, and I should have thought oi nothing elae, my mind would wander away to the pastâ€"and as I saw Will, as I used to see him, and myself. as in a mirror. young,r and blithe. leaning on his arm. Then 1 found myself praying for the dead woman, and murmuring. ‘ God for- give her, for she knew not. what she did !’ I came back to the pros sent with a start and a thrill. They were closing the yault. And be- srde the clergyman, speaking to him in a whisper, stood a tall man, with a.‘ foreign look about him and a heavy hat slouched over his eyes; a man all in blaek, with hair dark as night, out with here and there a jsiiver thread. Why did my heart heat so as I looked at him? Surely I had never seen that man beforel I turned away and went home. Jgive her‘over.’ I went back to get a shawl and hood, and tell my mo- ther where I was going, and then came out. The night was black and the snow was falling and lay deep upon‘the ground. and there sto‘oda sleigh ‘with bufl‘alo robes in it ready for me. lstepped in, and was whirled away toward the Hall. It was like a dream. I could scarcely believe myself awake. It was still a dream when We stopped at the Hall, and lonly realized that all was true when I stood in Mtss Sabrina‘s room, and saw her lying wan and pale upon the pillow. Oh, what a change had come over her ! ‘ You have come to see me. Han- nah -Fantkorn,’ she said ; ' thank you for that. I thought you'd re- fuse, perhaps. It’s a long time since we spoke together.’ ‘ A long while,’ I replied. ‘Yet you have lnot changed much,‘ said she. ‘ You look as you did when you stood by the hedge I in the moonlight, and said, ‘ what is the Hall to me ? 'Twas VVillieis love I cared for.’ I remember the words, Hannah Fan- thorn. 'l'hey've. stung my soul often since. Do you know I lied then 'l‘ ‘ Lied l’ ‘ Yes, lied.â€" Willie’s heart never belonged to any one but you. He was true as Heaven; It was I who wanted him to marry Dorcas Oakley. I thought a. poor gill like you beneath him. I told him you loved that cousin that came to your ho_vne so often; and when your letter came he believed it. I thought he would marry Dorcas then. 1 never meant to drive him from home and kin; but he went, and the last words he said were, ‘Sabrin-t. my heart is broken,’ And all these years he has wandered over the world, a lonely sorrowing man; and 1 his sister the cause; And sheâ€"Dorms _.oh, you know my let'er jilted me further; all me place» know that.’ I looked at the poor dying-woman. ill,’vsaid the man. TERMS $1 00 In Advance. \Vholc N0. 280. The doctors nevefchadgéd to e‘aéfifbthéi', ' ‘ havevcome ‘m '. these yearSuAyTvchflgga The gloom, the scene I had just wit- neSSed, the memories, we‘re‘all tomuch for me. I bowed my head upon the cold stone of the gateway and wept. ‘ Gone, gone, gonel'â€"I cried, and the sobbing wind among the branches ‘overâ€" head seemed to repeat the words, ‘Gone, gone, gone l’ I heard no soft step on the snow; I had seen no shadow. I never guessed any one wasrnear me until ’a hand came down upon my shoulderâ€"a hand large and strong, but trembling like an aspen leaf. Beside m'e stood ‘the "tall dark man I had seen in the grave-yard. When I turned he removed his hat, and. I saw the face of Willie Haslet. A face altered and aged, bronzed and sad,: but his, with love in it. ‘ Hannah,’ he said, ‘ Hannah 1’ And I, as though I spoke in a dream, murmured, ‘ He has comeback again ! He has come back again 1' ‘ Yes, Hannah, back again,’ said a low, sweet voice that had been in my memory so many‘ years. ‘ Her letter brought“ me back. She is my sister‘and shesvis dead. Hannah,,you know all ?' ’si’ilfifl said. He looked‘at me, I felt as tho' I dared not look at him. We were silent for a. moment. Then he spoke. ‘I have not. erosed that threshold. lt rests with you whether I ever shall. I Will not be master of the. Hall umless you be my Wife and its mistress.’ ‘The Hall, the Hall I’ I cried. ‘Did the Hall woo me? Did I love the Hall ? You speak 'of’it first‘at all do. Oh, Will Haslet, 1f you had been a poor farmer’s sen all might have been, so different! I never thought of anything but your love.’ ‘ I forgot,‘ he said, ‘ "tis notyoung Will Haslet now. My hair ‘gray, the time for wooing is past., ‘ And I am old also,’ said I. ‘ This is not-Hanâ€" nak Fanthern, I seinetimes think, but an- other woman with her name.’ ‘ There is no change in you, he said; ‘Oh, Han- nah, I must go ‘2’ He opened his arms. I took one step forward, and my head was against his breast as it had been ten years before. and I was his agaln. Thirty years ago, but I remember. How the bells rang ween we were wed, and how the peo- ple crowded to the church to see ! And who so proud as mother? for her girl was ‘the Squire’s lady and mistress of the Hall, where they sat by the firemeny a long day, and diedjn peace and.vh<‘)pe almost at last. 30 may, we, dieâ€"Will and It,th 'jvemlo’ze' tber still, eaéhar‘k') , 11 lhnth r'heads’ard; 1 paragon Bat Mam- A W'orm ABOUT THE BIOONE‘é- Every one is familliar with the singular phenomenon known as ‘the new moon carrying the old moon in her arms; when, in addi- tion to} the slender cresent, the whole disc is more or less distinct- ly visible :1 tew days after new moon; the same appearance, or ‘the old moon nursing the new,” pre- sents itself in like manner in the waning moon when she rises in few hours before the sun; but we [eat there are tew who shake off dull gleep in time to see it. This is what is called the lumiere cendree, or ashlight of the moon. Its ap~ pearance used to be taken as an in- dicatinn that the moon was phos- pherr-socnt, or possessed some light 01 her own independent of that she receives from the sun. Now, how- ever, it is satisfactorily proved to ariee from the sun-light reflected from the earth from the earth upon the dark moon; for it must be re- membered that the earth is to the moon what the moon is to the earth. a reflector ot’ the Sun's light, and that when itis new moon to the earth it is full earth to the moon, and vice versa; and thus the opaque moon becomes illuminated by earth lightâ€"to use a term am. logos to moonlight; but on account ofthe great size of the earth comv pared to the moon, thisligh is four- teen times as bright as our moon- light. and thus the occasional brilli- aney of this ‘ reflection ofa reflec- tion’ is accounted fernâ€"Once a Week. An Irishman and a Yankee me‘t at a tav- em, and there was but one bed for them. On entering, the Yankee said he did not. care which side of the bed he took. ‘ Then,’ said Pat, ‘you may take the under side.’ A STRONG Siouxâ€"“It is recorded that a. Deddler was recently caught at sea during a violent storm, when he saved his life by talk it}; a. cab; of sope, and washing himself as- hore. The soap, or the story, must have been made of strong lie. ' ' TRUE LYFE,~â€"â€"The mere lapse 61’ years is 90;“ life, To eat, drirgk and _s1e;ep, to be ex- posed to «iarlggegs and to lighn to pace round in the mm of habit, and turn the wheel «of-wealth ; to make reason book-keep- er, and ghouqht into an implement of tradeâ€"v phgs is not life. A POWERFUL METAPHOR.â€"A Western editor, speaking of a quill-driving contem- porary, says-‘ His intellect is so dense that it would take the augar of common sense longer to bore imo it than it would to bore through Mount Blane with a boiled, carrot l' The, path [ed 'by the Halli 9 l'paused a moment to .look at it, LEvery window was shut. Fr’om thé broad ‘froht door and frOm the-‘n’ééhs of the stone lions on'the porch strenm- ‘ers of orape were floating; " Oiffihow often ] ~--had seen every window ablaze with lights, and‘heard musxc and dancing feet and laughterfi‘om withint And now, i‘rI‘the Winter twilightâ€"for at five the day was nearly done, and the clon'ds‘ii‘iwer- ed heavy _wilh comingvsnows~ how, how dark and cold it was! And yonder in the graveyard} lav. in ' their grim, vautt, master and mistress, and she who had been the pride of their hearts, the' toast and beauty of the regionv-Sabrina Haslet. And Willie-«where‘was he ’1 '