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+ BEN BRAMBLE,

THE

 
  

BY HENRY J. THOMAS.

NEW YORK:

BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
gs WILLIAM STREE‘.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18%, by
BEADL#Y AND ADAMS,
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington
 

BEN BRAMBLE.

CHAPTER I.

 

NEW HOPE.”

Tue sharp crack of a rifle broke upon the air, and the
body of a large buck hung for a moment suspended in mid
air, then came rolling down the steep to the banks of the
river, where it rushed through the gorge. The Great Kanawha —
was running low in its channel, but its clear, fast-whirl-_
ing waters still hurried headlong downward toward the far
Ohio, anc their music filled with a smothered moan the aisles
of the great forest along its border.

_ By the banks of the stream stood a brother and sister, gaz-
ing into the dizzy tide, when the stricken deer came rolling,

crashing down the mountain steep, reposing at length almost

at their feet.

“Halloo, there! Look out for the beast, I say, you.
etranger with the gal. He’ll be makin’ at you ef he ben’t
‘ dead. Look skeery, I say !’ came a strong, clear voice from
the heights above. Even as he spoke, the animal, stunned
but not killed, slowly arose to its feet, and, seeing the two
confronting it, showed evident signs of fight,

“Down, Mattie ! Over the bluff there on to that shelf y
cried the young man, seeing the danger of an assault from
the infuriated deer.

With a quickness quite surprising, the girl leaped over the
bank, and was soon standing on a projectiug rock below, cov:
ered by the rocks above and around from danger. |

The movement had not been a moment too quick, for the
deer, arising to its haunches. sat for but a moment, when it
THE ALLENS.

‘made a aapents lunge at the young man. With great agil-

 

ity he dodged the creature, whose branching antlers just ae

passed his body as he leaped aside to avoid the blow that
would have sent him reeling into the chasm below. Agaiy
the animal came to the charge, and again the quick-footed
but unarmed man evaded the blow. How long this would
have continued we can nt say; but the deer had another
“antagonist at hand worthy of his mettle. The hunter, drop-
ping rapidly down the mountain side, came up at the critical |
moment. His rifle having no charge in it was of no use, and,
flinging it aside, he drew his long hunting-knife from its
sheath and confronted the deer, The beast perceived his
danger, and, for a moment, seemed to hesitate in the
attack.

“Come on, old critter! Don’t be blinkin’ there ef you’ve
got any grit in you. T’ll give you a taste of barbecue with-
out roastin’, you tearin’ old—”

The sentence was not finished, for the deer made a spirited
dash at the bold fellow, and soon they were locked in a hand
~and horn tussle. With the quickness of lightning the hunter
struck his well-aimed blow, and the noble buck settled down
upon its haunches, then toppled over, and, with a pitiful bleat,
straightened out its limbs in death.

“There now, old fellew, don’t shed them tears, ’cause 1
_ don’t like to see ’em; and that bleat—ding my skin ef it

don’t go through me like a woman’s cry! ‘There, there,
that'll end it, poor old fellow,” said the hunter, as he gave the
animal two blows with the knife to end its struggles. :
_ The young man looked on with intense interest at the
whole proceeding, scarcely remembering the frightened girl
who crouched close to the rocks over the bank.

“Where’s the gal, young mar ?” said the hunter, with some
apparent concern.

“Oh, safe over the bank. Here, Mattie, all’s right! Give
me your hand, my brave sister !”

The girl looked up over the rocks to see her bri ther,
and, taking his extended hand, now stood upon the bank

again.
“What! my old friend of the Springs ?” said she, aa che
held out her hand to the hunter.
BEN PRAMBLE, 7 ie HUNTER,

5 ee

‘As sure a8 shootin’ , Miss,” was the answer, as the haatee 2
dotfed his cap and stood smiling before the girl. “ An’ how a

 

come you here?” he added, after a moment’s pause. ae"

«indcr thought as how you was in fort. Ha! hal I guess
somethin’s in the wind !” py
“Oh no, my good. friend ; nothing is wrong, I am here sa

_ « seitler, you know.”

ey

.

“No! Whar do you live?” :

“ Down at New Hope. My father has come into posses.
sion of estates round about here, and we shall live here,
This is my brother Harry.”

“Gin us your fist, my boy. Here’s Ben Bramble’s com-
pliments. Your sister is un old acquaintance o’ mine—that
is, you see, I was sick last summer at the Springs, and she—
used to be very kind to me. It was better’n a doctor, I tell
ye, to have her talk to me, and I shall never forget Miss Al-
len!” This was said with such honesty, and the hunter
locked so truly’ delighted, that Harry Allen at once opened
his heart to the tellow. They were friends from the subtle

. free-masonry of confidence at first sight.

The animal lay at Ben’s feet bathed in its blood. The ;
sight of blood to Mattie’s sensitive organization was sicken-
‘ng, and ere she was aware of it, a faintness stole over her;_
her face became hueless; and she would have dropped to the —

earth had not Ben’s quick eye detected all, and his strong

arm caught her. Lifting her like a babe, he bore her to the
cool shade of an oak, seating her against the tree. Then he
drew from his pouch a bottle , of whisky, with which he bathed
her temples and moistened her lips. §he recovered her con-
sciousness in a few moments to find Harry bending over her

_ in laugnter.

“Poor girl! Worthy daughter of the wilderness { Mis
tress of the valley !” he spoke tantalizingly.
Mattie arose and started for the horses, which were
hitched not far away.

“ Now, look here, young man, I say none of thut. Dos
felt squeamish at sight of blood, and I thinks it’s woman’a
right to be a little more squeamish than us. Jist do you say

- nothing about it.”

Ben was too earnest for Harry to gainsay the reproot
i *

‘ i‘ . ‘ ans

= 2 - HE ALLENS

Following Mattie, he found her, a little flushed with: anger,
ready to mount her horse. Harry kissed her into a smile,
They were soon on their horses, when Ben tame up to “see —

that all was on the square.” Mattie’s smile reassured him,

and, exacting a promise from the hunter that he would come
over to “the place,” the brother and sister drew rein for a

gallop over the hills.

Ifarry and Mattie were the only children of Edward Allen
--a gentleman of education and refined habits, who had

lately removed from Eastern Virginia to the Kanawha val-
ley. Having lost the bulk of his fortune by the most unex-
pected and unfortunate failure of an extensive business house’

he resolved to remove to the valley, and, upon the New Hope >

estate—a part of the military lands patrimony from his good
old patriot father—there to spend his days in quiet, and to

escape the annoyance and humiliation of a society whose

ostentatious style of living he could no longer support.
Starting for the West in the summer of 1798, he tarried,

after crossing the mountains, at the White Sulphur Springs, |
to recruit his impaired health. There they were joined by
friends, and, shall we say also, by one who sought to become

dearer than friend? That early day found “the Springs” a
favorite resort for the invalid and pleasure-seekers; and the
estates adjoining found their hospitality sometimes severely
tasked to entertain those who sought the quiet and health of

- that romantic spot.

Many was the sad parting when the day at length came for

the Allens to push on to their forest-home, and for their

friends, old and young, to return to the East. Saddest of all
was the parting between Mattie and her lover, Victor Oar-
rington—one whom her pure soul worshiped with all the de
yotion of her warm nature. The. lover wended his way
solemnly and sadly to the East, while the loved bent her we

with much heaviness of heart to the West.

But Harry—he was gay and gladsome as a bird. At the
Springs, if he had lost old friends, he had also found new.

_ There was Squire Templeman, whom Mr. Allen found to be
one of the proprietors nearest to his own Kanawha estate,
and who would, therefore, be his neighbor. A warm friendship

seon sprung up between the two gentlemen; and, between

Mee

 
- Helen Templeman and Harry—why, there flew stray glance
pretty phrases, little attentions, which were significant of ©
every thing but sadness at the present or sorrow for the future, —
Helen—the gay, dashing, stirring girl of the hills and woods—~ —
she quite filled the soul of Harry with song and excitement, —

'f not with peace. 2

KS never stood upon the brink of the Hawk’s Nest, or looked

/

1

CHAPTER II.
BEN BRAMBLE.
“Why, he’s a pretty fellow,” said Harry to his sister, as

they sat by the fire on a cold evening in December, tossing to —
- her a letter which he had been reading: “he’s a pretty fellow

to be talking to us of the Mersey and Thames, and the Avon

of Plinlimmon, and the Vale of Llangollen, and the Highlands"
‘and lakes of Scotland. He has seen the Powhatan and the
‘Potomac, the peaks of Otter, Harper’s Ferry, and the Warm —

Spring Mountain.”

“Ah, brother,” replied Mattie, eagerly seizing the letter, :

“ Victor has never descended yet the cliffs of New River ; has

down upon the valley of the Great Kanawha from the rock-

raised parapets above the falls. He has never seen Cotton

Hill in October.”

- “Well, I pity the boy,” said the brother, “and I fear he

will return from Etirope a most insufferable coxcomb, Mattie.”

“If he does,” said she,“ which I don’t believe he ever |

will, still he will have most traveled young gentlemen to keep

him in countenance, and some, too, who have never traveled
very far.” fs

“YT don't know who the gentleman mought be that you ar
talkis’ oa, Master Harry,” said Ben Bramble, who at that mo- —

ment looked up from the mysteries of a Dutch puzzling iron,
while Mattie was deeply engaged in reading the letter: “TI

don’t know nothin’ of him ; but if he’s never see’d Cotton Hill
iy the fall of the year, no matter whar he’s traveled, he's got . ‘

”
\

 

nad oe
A.
Ne 7 ; . Z ee

Sp OS ae ee

something to sve yit. It’s one of the beauties of God’s own —
makin’—round, and smcoth, and plump as a young gal when
_ she’s jest a woman like; them grape-vines a curlin’ round the

heads of the high trees on the top, like Miss Mattie’s buir
when it falls down on her shoulders; and then the redbirds,
and the dogwoods, and the sassafras, and the sugar-trees, with se,
thar leaves of all colors a-playin’ in the wind and a-shining |
in the sun—tbar’s nar a calico gown that I ever see’d yit to bas

~ compared to it.”

Mattie, who had finished reading the letter, looked at Ben, 5

and asked him:

“What's that you said about my hair ?”

“ Only,” said Ben, “ that it puts me in mind of the grape-
vines all covered with green leaves, that hang curlin’ down
from the tops of the trees on Cotton Hill.”

7

“That's the most poetical compliment, papa,” said Mattie,

to a father, “ that, ever was paid to me.”
‘“True, my dear,” replied he, “ ‘ poeta naseitur.

99)

A tap was heard at the door. Mr. Allen opened it, say-
ing to a man whose figure the ’ight of the candles disclosed, -

“Walk in, sir.”

The person who entered was a well- set man of middle size,
with a blanket overcoat and broad-brimmed white hat on,
_ both of which had seen some service, There was nothing
remarkable in his face or its expression, both of which would

by most persons be thought good-looking, except a restless

moving of his eyes, which rested not a moment on any one

 

end

object, and seemed never, except by furtive glances, to meet —
‘the eyes of other persons. A slight tinge of red on his nose, —
if not caused by the sharp. chilling air through which he had —

just ridden, indicated the recent commencement rather than
the long-continued habit of intemperance... On those who a‘€
not close observers of men, the wandering expression of, hia.
eyes would have impressed the idea that he was a diffident, if |

not a timid man; but their continual glancing was like that

of a wild animal seeking its prey, or caught and confined,
looking for some hole through which to escape, His first

words, however, would have dissipated all ideas of his dift- —

dence or timidity, if such had been produced. oe:
“My name is Isaac Forster,” said he“ Tile x on my -fettas

 

 
 

  

A VISIT FROM MR. FORSTER.

a of introduction : but that’s in my saddlebags, Mr. Allen, with

other papers of business.” Saying this, he drew a chair close
to the fire, and spreading his legs and hands to receive ite

genial warmth, and looking all round the room, continued: —
“Tt’s too late for business to-night, Mr. A‘len ; to-morrow, sir —
Will be time enough for that.”
“Tf you have business with me, sir,” said Mr. Allen, returns
fing from the door, “ and such is your pleasure, we will attend
to it in the morning, Mr. Forster. A sharp evening, air, Je
_ this for the beginning of December.” ee
“Pretty sharp,” said Forster; “but I never Sana ‘the
Weather. I don’t regulate that. It’s not my business.”
Harry, in an undertone, remarked to his sister :
“That man has lived all his life in taverns. He thinks
he’s in one now.” 4 i
Mattie, in turning her head toward her brother, caught the
eye of Ben Bramble, who was beckoning to her from an
adjoining room, into which he had passed unobserved as Isaac
Forster entered the front door. Ben Bramble, since meeting
with Harry and his sister at the falls, had been frequently at
New Hope, for such was the name which Mr. Al.en’s children |
had given to his place of residence on the Kanawha. He had

evidently become much attached to the nies and telt at

home in their house.
Mattie glided out of the sitting-room. Mr. Allen did not

perceive that Ben had leit it. Turning to a gray-headed ser-

- Vant who had brought Mr. Forster’s saddlebags into the room,

- he said to him: “ Thomas, have this gentlemar’s horse taken

~ to the stable.”

 

“ Ay, ay, do, Tommy,” added Forster; “feed him well,
- and a little currying and rubbing won’t hurt him, you know,
my boy. ” *
As the servant retired, with a somewhat contemptuous look
at his master’s guest, Mattie returned, and approaching het
- father, said something to him in a low tone, on which Mr..
Allen left the room, apologizing te Forster for a few momenta
absence,
“Fell your daddy to come here,” Ben had said ‘to Mattie,
: on she obeyed his signal.
~ are left to — what conameunications Rep ae
‘made to Mr’ Aven wat private foterview. Bew: did
not returo to the sittiug-room We ineiine to think that he —
did not wish Forster, whose quick eye be had cecaped, ta.
know of his presence that evening at New Hope.

Ben strode away in the dark, cold night with the bold and
free step of an American mountaineer. His rifle waa in his
’ hand, his knife at his side, and his dogs, Captain Rover and |
Young Kate, followed his footsteps. The lock of his gun was —
covered by a kind of leather mask, which effectually kept the —
lock dry, and protected the powder in the pan from dew ox —
rain. Percussion locks and caps were not then in use; and —
even if they had been, so steady was his sinewy arm and so
certain his aim, that he needed not the assistance which these —
recent inventions of chemical and mechanical science have —
afforded to less experts with fire-arms.

Ben’s path followed the course of the river up to the foot
of the falls, where his light canoe was moored beneath the
giant trunk of a sycamore which stood upon the brink of the
river, snd to which it was fastened by a chain and padlock.

In a few moments his light bark shot across the current of _
whe river, and passing up a ravine along the course of a moun- ©
tain streamlet which winds around the western base of Jen- —
kins’ Mountain (Cotton Hill), Ben soon reached his humble |
cahin, to forget in sweet repose both friends and enemies.

CHAPTER IIt.
THE AGENT,

Tsaac Forster was a widower, without children, abuut |
forty yeaxs of age, in search of a wife, more land and more
money than the ample amount of both which he already pos- |
sessed. A very common characte, this; yet he was no com- |

‘mon man. [Ife,had heard of the arrival and settlement of ©

Mr. Allen on the Kanawha, quite near his own residenve ; |
that he bad a very ‘pretty daughter, and a son, who would ba :
his is only man and although Mr. Allen was a broken merchant —

   
 
 
 
 

 
e TSAA0'S ACCOMPLISH. AENTS. i Me =

sa had an impression, from some facts nee to him- :
self, that the wreck of this gentleman’s fortune might be —
more yvalueble than a gold-freighted Acapulco ship, The son
‘of Mr. Allen, he had heard, was in delicate health. But this —
was alla mistake. Isaac thought the change of climate from —

~~ the eastern to the western side of the mountains might render

Miss Allen her father’s only heir, or some accident might
eecur to cause th at event—such as exposure at pleasure-part-
ies, the upsetting of a boat above the falls, the accidental go-
ing off of a rifle, or some poisonous herb gathered through
mistake for a salad to be served up to him on his return, after
the usual dinner-hour, from some hunting or fishing excursion.

Isaac was an excellent accountant, and thought he .under-
stovd the calculation of probabilities and chances, He had —
remoyed from Eastern Virginia some years ago, and since his
settlement in the West, had acted as land- agent, land-jobber,
_ surveyor, and tax-payer for many gentlemen in Virginia and
i Maryland as well as for himself. He was, perhaps, the best
peuman in the United States; he could write and imitate
every sort of chirography, and very few persons could distin-
giish their own handwriting from Isaac’s imitation. He had .
been brought: up in a clerk’s office, and thought himself a
lawyer, as many other persons do from a mere acquaintance
with the forms of law.

He was the land-agent of more persons than any other man
living west of the mountains. He had a power of attorney —
from extensive landholders as their agent to pay taxes, form
settlements, and sell very extensive tracts of land in Western
Virginia, Kentucky and the Western Territory.

On his removal to the West, Isaac had carried with him sev-
eral thousand dollars. By the judicious use of this sum, and
by active industry, he had become a great man in the Westin
the estimation of many others as well as in dis own. ils
Was apparent in his free and easy manners everywhere. So
constantly was he traveling on business, that it was impossible
to tell where he might be found, except when he had made
an appointment ; then and there you would surely find him in
_ time at the place, in spite of storm, tempest, fire or water.
“He took pride in this thing, and found it productive cf _
feputation and money. At other ‘times, when everybody

\

 
  

ee

tnouglit Isaac was at home, he was at Loulsvile, Pittsburg,
‘New York, New Orleans, or where nobody knew. The natives
~ at first stared and wondered, but they got used to it, and thought
no more of his absence or of the distance he might be from |
home than if he had been a comet. a

It was during one of these trips from home that Mr. Allen
airived with his family on the Kanawha; and on Isaac's x
return to his own house, he found the following letter on an pa
table, which had been left during his absence :
“To Mr. Isaac Forster, below Lewisburg, on the Great ‘inacihs

: “ ALEXANDRIA, August 20th, 98.

“D’r Zack—Blown sky-high, by jimminy! Smith and
Bird, Buchanan and Alexander, broke all to smash. Lands
all, every acre of them, transferred to Ned Allen, (don’t believe
you know him—that’s strange !) by bona fide deeds reenrded,
to indemnify him for some sixty thousand dollars which the
fool paid as their endorser. Thinks himself a ruined man—
has moved to Kanawha. 7 ‘his comes in haste before him, to
give you an item to keep dark and lay low. Has a son—
devilish keen fellow, they say ; you must take care of him—
and a daughter. ’Twould be well to marry her, friend Isaac;
easy way to settle things, specially if Allen won’t renew your
lease and power of attorney. Before he smelis a rat, you~
must be wide awake. But I needn’t advise you, who can
manage I guess, a dozen of Ned Allens. Hope this will come
to hand in time to prevent his falling into worse hands. Son
Sam will be out next summer, or early in the fall, with the
papers, etc., etc., you will want in other cases. He knows :@

nothing about them or any of owr business transactions, and —
ought not. He’s too thoughtless a chap, Tin won't do here.
Look out. That's the time of day. The western counties and
the district of Kentuck is the hunting-grownd. Horses will do
here. Yours in the bonds,
“ JONES CARTER.

“P. §. Letter of introduction enclosed. J. 0.”

Some parts of this letter are comprehensible enough ; others
are obscure and dark. On its reception (much later than the
writer intended, in consequence of Mr. Forster’s absence,) and —
after the arrival of Mr. Allen at his new home, Isaac set off

- |ustantly for the house of that gentieman, and arrived there,

 

 

 
THE ALLEN ESTATE.

 

_ a we have seen, on a cold evening in December. ‘The import.

-ance he attached to the contents of this letter may be inferred —
from the fact that, sithough he had ridden nearly fifty miles

_ during the day, yct in ten minutes after reading the letter, not
withstanding he was weary and hungry, and it was cold and

dark, he was on the road to Mr. Allen’s.

The iands leased to Isaac Forster, now the property of Mr. ae

Allen, were not London surveys, at least the greater part of —

them were not, as the merchants supposed when they leased _

- them to Isaac. Mr. Allen did not know even of the existence
of these lands, much less of any value they might possess,
when he unexpectedly received the deeds for them, together
With the mournful news of the utter failure of the merchants
for whom he had paid so much money. ‘Their really great
value was known only to Isaac and his confidential allies,and
to persons who thought Aim their owner.. When Isaac
receivcd his last lease, and was paying annually a forty-dollar
horse and the taxes as rent for them, they were worth at least —
half a million of dollars. And he was receiving from the
“squatters that he had turned into tenants” a handsome rev-
enue in money, horses, grain, skins, ete. Besides this, he was —
selting odd ends and slips, and offsets, the surplusage of large”
tracts which he had re-surveyed ; for then old surveys weru-

very loosely made, the corners being on this “ héll side,” om
“a prong of the branch,” “seven hundred poles lower done’

— ete., containing often hundreds of acres more than were called —

for in the patent. Nobody knew how much Isaac was reale

Ying from them. Mr. Allen never dreamed that they could be
worth a fiftieth part of the sixty chousand dollars which he
had lost by those who had coaveyed them to him, In their _
letters covering the conveyaaves, and informing hin: that the
original patents, deeds, and utaer papers were in the hands
of their agent in the West, not even the name of the agent _
was mentioned by the me:chants. They took it for granted,

Wwe suppose, that Srenyaney knew that honest Isaac ww Pe
“Was the man. adie?
Parts of many tracts sold by Forster, and not paid for, were
-Feconveyed to Isaac himself on his assumption of the payments

_ Of the very small sums for which they had been seid by 7 i

_ @@ agent. Men of business will know that the power —

Ue
16 “THE ALLENS.

-gttorney to Forster was superseded and virtually revoked by

- the transfer of the lands to M1, Allen. In the course of the ©
next year Isaac’s lease itself would expire. Ile therefore knew
that no time was to be lost in coming to some understanding,
and in making some comfortable arrangement with Mr. Allen,
the present owner of the lands, Our readers are now ac
- Yuainted with the purpose of his visit to New Hope.

After breakfast at New Hope, to which all did «mple jus-
tice except Mr. Allen, whose ill-health restricted him to a
modest diet, he ard Forster retired to the sitting-room, when |
the latter asked for his saddlebags, and, taking out a bundle
of papers, drew forth and presented to Mr. Allen a letter of
introduction. After reading the letter, Mr. Allen said :
~ “T owe you an apology, Mr. Forster, for not recognizing |
you last evening as the late attorney and tenant of my friends
who have conveyed me their Western lands. But no name
was mentioned in their letter, from the presumption on their
part, I suppose, that I had the pleasure of knowing you per-
sonally.”

“No doubt,” replied Isaac, “as I am pretty well known
there and here. But that’s of no consequence now, sir, as I
hope we shall soon be better acquainted, Mr. Allen. Those
under whom you claim and hold have had my services many
years for little or nothing, and the lands for which I have
been paying to them a valuable horse and the taxes at are
London surveys, as perhaps you know.”

“T have been informed that such is their character, or, at
least, that such was the impression of their former owners. I
know nothing of them myself; I have very lately, as you are
no doubt informed, Mr. Forster, received deeds for them.
But a regard for my interests will induce me to take measures
to ascertain their present and prospective value so soon as my
health will permit.. Your lease, I understand, expires in
_ October next, and the rent for the present year is to be paid
to myself.”

“ Unless,” said .Forster, “there is some provision to the
contrary.”

“There is none,” replied Mr. Allen; “ and as it is well for
gentlemen, in all business matters, to understand each other

y, you will exeuse me for saying there wag some slight
LANDLORD AND. TENANT.

~

 

- gnaccuravy in your designation of the nature of my se we

those lands. I do not hold them under Smith and Bird,
Buchanan and Alexander, but from them. The conveyance
to me is absolute, unconditional, and in fee-simple, for and in |

- consideration of sixty thousand dollars which I have setually
paid for them.”

“ Sixty thousand dollars!” said Forster; “that is too bad.

Yc wll never, I fear, sir, see the hundredth part of that sum

for them. But, we must make the best of it, sir. I might, e

as your agent, knowing the lands and the people in this

country, lighten your loss some little, to be sure. With longer

time, and a renewal of my lease for five, or rather, ten years,

something might be done. by myself; but, under ordinary
Management, they will yield nothing for many years, if
ever.”

“Well,” said Mr. Allen, “I must make the best of it,as
you say, Forster. You are aware, sir, that the power of —

attorney to you was rendered null and void by the transfer
of the lands to me, and that you are bound in law to make
_ mot only a return of all the papers, and a report of all trans-

actions by yourself as attorney, but, as my tenant now, attorn-—

ment to me, the present landlord.”

“Qh, certainly, Mr. Allen; all that the law requires, in

goud time, sir. But I have called at this time, Mr. Allen,

a

merely to give you an opportunity to renew the power of |

attorney, which your own interest requires; and it is only to

promote the welfare of an old Virginian that I would now
again undertake so troublesome and unprofitable an agency.

I thought, too, that you might wish me to renew ny lease, if

we can agree on the terms. They were high, 1 know, and

the whole business attended with more labor than profit ; but

as it is in the line of my business, Mr. Allen, and keeps me
moving about, I suppose I must consent to undertake both.”
There are few persons, sir, in the West, able to atten to their

own affairs, as you, I hope, will soon be, for whom I would
de so much. We must help one another, when our friends
aced it, and are in difficulties, out of which we only can sea
- & chance of drawing them. It is our duty to use our knowi-
edge and experiexce, in matters in which we are better versed
than our een fur their benefit and edvasinge: Mitige
4

|

term of
present term, derived from the former owners, will expire,

eh a 7 be Mee ‘ vot or vey we eae eon ht aes

a t ‘
Mo eS
;

1 “

- ©True—very true,” said Allen ; “as 1 am. in the habit,

| Forster, of transacting all matters of business in writing, aE

‘2

you do me the favor tc make your proposals in that form? —

‘There are pens, ink, arJ paper on the table near you,” he
adiled.

' Ieaac’s face lighted up, and his gray eyes twinkled with
p.sasure as he turned his chair round to the table. Nothing
gratified 1 him more than to display his penmanship. Tt flattered
his vaniiy in a point on which he piqued himself. The sub-
ject, too—he imagined himself on the point of accomplishing
at once his cherished designs, and of doing the thing, too, at
the request of another. The bird, thought he, has fluttered
up to the very mouth of the charmer; I have only to epen it
and in he will pop. In the most beautiful, clerk-like hand,
Isaac dashed off and presented to Mr. Allen the following
proposals :

“T propose to receive a full power of attorney fom Edward
Allen, Esq., of Kanawha county, Virginia, to transact all busi-
ness in relation to the lands to him “conveyed by Smith and
Bird, Buchanan and Alexander, for the consideration of five
per cent. on all sales, transfers, rents, and other definitive
arrangements of the same, or any part or parts thereof, effected
‘by me as his agent. And I further propose to renew my lease
of the same lands, on the terms of the former lease, for the
years after the 15th of October next, when my

 

Ail sales or transfers made by me to take effect, as to actua.
possession, on the expiration of the said years. In
“witness whereof, I have this day, the first of December, 1798,

 

at the house of the said Edward Allen, Esq., on the Kanawha

ones set my hand and affixed my seal.
“Jsaac Forster.” [Swat]
“For how many years shall I fill up the term?” said Isaae, |
raising the paper from the table, and glancing at Mr,
Allen.
“Tt matters not,” said Mr. Allen; “I think ycu proposed

~ ten or twenty.” *

“Very well,” said Isaac, rapidly replacing the paper ori the
table, and inserting twenty in the blank which he had left;
and handing the paper to Mr. Allen, he added, * you will find

4

%
   

te midis

“pe BITER BITTEN.

os mes sy is
it all ght, sir, and in due een and quite satstitory, x : =
? hope. a i

   

Mr. Allen took the paper, read it over odindaite folded tt ae

up, and put it into his pocket, remarking to Forster that the
‘proposals were very distinct and explicit ; that he would give
them all due consideration, and would give an answer, either
_ aerepting or rejecting them, on the 15th of October, when ania
-fease would expire.
Tsaac was thunderstruck. Here he was, in the first sitting,
the first game for an enormous stake, in check to the knight _

of whom Jones Carter had written to him he could manage a _

dozen. And, besides, his adversary—for such henceforth he
considered Mr. Allen—had gained two most important points
on the board: an acknowledgment of notice of the conveyance
_ of the lands to Mr. Alec and the consequent annulment of

the power of attorney after that date, and a recognition in | ;

writiag of the day on which the lease would terminate.
“This comes of eager and unguarded fishing in water before
we know its depth.” Isaac, however, hoped that these things
might not be observed; they were surely not artfully drawn
out. Mr. Allen had made no suggestion. He might only be

a sluw man, without being astute or deliberate, much less cau-

tious or cunning. His having paid sixty thousand dollars as

security for other people forbade all such ideas. He must oe

wait on him—watch him closely—sound him to the bottom, —

- and take his measures according to circumstances. — _ G
- “Well, sir,” said he, “ your will must be my pleasure in

‘this matter. But delays are dangerous (Isaac felt the full foree
of this truism), and you may find it so, Mr. Allen. J thought
that your true interests were so plain in providing at present
for their advancement, that the business might have been —
done, as it ought to be, sir, in half an hour—to-day as well
(certainly better) than at any future time.”

“Perhaps so,” said Mr. Allen. “But my health is not.

_ fod, and therefore I have fixed a day for my answer some-
what distant, that if, in the spring, I should recover my wonted
strenyth, I may improve it by riding. In that case, I hope to _
8 some, at least, of the London surveys, and judge for my-_

-telf of their value.” a
ee Nothing but his death or his daughter *hen,” thomght pet

 
at

 

Isaac Forster, “can “carry me haa “He must die ae
trust marry before November next. His daughter és a fine.
ooking giri; rather too fond of dress, I perceive, and high-
minded—the daughters of these aristocrats are all so. Let ma
get her, though, and PU manpage all that.” ae

Ae

fe 4

CHAPTER IV.
THE AGENT FISHES FOR A W:FE.

Tue object of his thoughts was just entering the room ag
these ideas passed through his mind.

“This is my daughter Mattie, Mr. Forster,” said Mr, Allen, —
formally introducing her.

“ I hope you are pleased, Miss, with the Western oountayy”
said Isaac, addressing the young lady. '

“Quite so, sir, especially with the scenery,” she replied, ©
with that grace and quiet dignity of manner which then —
marked the demeanor of well-bred Virginia ladies,

“You must be very domestic, I think, for I have never |
eet abs out; I should not have forgotten it. I am very
sure.”

“Y have had but little time as yet, sir, to forw acquaint. 4
ances, and there are few public places in the country at
which the presence of ladies is expected except those .f pub- —
lie worship, and they are not numerous, I believe, es 4
neighborhood.”

“T am sorry to say that is true. To what denomipa’
may I ask, Miss Allen, do you belong e" .

“My father is an Episcopalian, sir, and I have seen m
reason to abandon the church to which he is attached.” ay
- “That I think is right, Miss. Those who think their
fathers right, are apt, when they marry, to think their hus-
ands right—dutiful daughters make dutiful wives.”

_ “TI had not viewed church-membership in that -ight, 2 sald
_ Mattie, smiling. 4
_ “T presume not,” said Foret “but you may, though, for

 

 

   
 
, ae Se Ree nae betaine ‘ Ee x
i . 5 Gag : at weep ek a
yr hee . ye ree eee ES
a i r
4 <

THE ‘KANAWHA "VALLEY.

 

Airing ndiés are ‘lis to put one in fotid of a eine you Bey

know, if they never think of it themselves.”

_ “Oh, I don’t pretend never to think of that to which you ae

allude. ” e
“Tf you did,” said her father, “ fete. Mr. Forster nor

any other gentleman would believe you.”

- Forster looked at his watch—a very showy one—requested

kis horse to be brought out, took his leave and departed.

_ “Well, Tom, my boy,” said he, to the smiling old servant,

who handed him the bridle, and held the stirrap for him to

mount his horse, “my horse looks well this morning; I am
sorry I haven’t a fourpence for you. That young mistress of
yours is a handsome girl, Tommy—make an elegant wife, eh ?
Good-by.”. And he rode away as if already possessed: of his
- game—very. self-satisfied and happy.

“Sorry he ain’t got a fourpence for me,” said Uncle Tom,
looking at Forster, as he rode away. “He’s sorry he ain’t ©
got more for hisself. What’ he think I want wid fourpence
from sich as he? He ain’t no gentleman. If you wus tc
run all the raal gentlemen in Ole Virginny through a wheat-
fan, you couldn’t shake out nor blow out sich tail eends aa—
dat man—ha! ha! hah! My missus a han’some gal! Make
an illegant wife! Lor’ bless my sonl! ha! ha! hah! I
don’t know what’s gwine to happen when sich trash as hé
takes her name in Ads mouf! ’Taint fitten for a spit-box for
' her. J’clar, she shouldn’t sile her shoes by walkin’ on him —
ober a mud-hole. No, sah! Ilegant wife! What Xe gwine
‘do wid illegant wife—ha! ha! hah! He mighty illegant he-
self, I spose, ain't he? The oman what does his washin’
Will have nasty wuck if what’s in him sweats out. Wife! —
I ’clar, he must be a born fool to think of sich a thing: Lord
& massa! what is dis world cummin to!”

The old fellow was solemnly impressed with the. inter
thought, and moved off toward the stab'e, apparently in a
Serious mood.
The Kanawha valley, from the falls to the mouth of the
_Yiver, ninety miles distant, forms an acute delta, with its basa
on the Ohio. There is no land in America of greater fertil.
ty; and in so narrow a valley, shut in by mountains-angd
' traversed by so large a river, the climate is more equable and

aoe

Neo
ee

+i

ae \

milder than on extensive plains in the same latitude, » The

peach, pear and apple, the plum and the grape, are rarely
killed by variations in the temperature; and they all mature

» ae * Z > ee eee
- ere : C ; ae
4 > Ye

ss : THE ALLENS. UE ae oe eee

their fruit in great perfection. The fields of grain and grasa —

exhibit the most luxuriant crops. Indeed, nothing can sur-

pass, in the eyes of an American agriculturist, the deep-—
green, cloud-like appearance of a field of Indian corn :n the —

Kanawha bottom, just before it throws cut its feathery tas-
sels and silken shoots.

Through this valley, the day afier Forster’s visit to New

Hope, Mr. Allen’s carriage was rattling. Unele Tom was

driving Miss Mattie and her brother from a meeting-house,

whither they had been to hear the gospel preached. In pass-
ing over one of the pole bridges, common in those days in
the valley, it suddenly gave way, and the carriage, horses
and driver were precipitated into the water below. Most

horseback, riding just behind the carriage, saw the accident,

and the imminent danger to those within it. He leaped from

his horse, plunged into the water, tore open the door on the

upper side, seized the lady by her eloak, and dragged her out
on the bank,

fortunately, the sleeper or joint on the lower side remained —
unbroken, The cross-poles, with the carriage, slid down, and
in overturning, the carriage rested against them. A man on

Harry Allen was striving to break through the top of the .

carriage, believing that the door could not be opened in time
to save his sister; but now, seeing her in safety on the bank,

leaped out, and turned to see what had become of the old
negro. Thrown off the seat into the water, and before he
rose to the top, he had been carried down between the loose,
broken poles below the bridge. He swam to the nearest:

bank, and seeing his young master and mistress safe on the

shore, ran up the bank, pulled out his knife, and plunged in
again to cut the traces off the horses. But it was too late,
Before he could accomplish his purpose, both horses wera

drowned. Y e

It was but a short distance to Mr. Allen’s house. The

‘gentleman who had rescued Mattie offered his horse for her
use, but she declined the offer, alleging that, as it was quite —
ae cold, she preferred walking with her brother, He then ‘rode ie
a

MATTIE'S RESOLUTION. es

q on to the house, mentioned the accident, the safety of the son
- gnd daughter, and the loss of the carriage and horses, which Re
were soon swept down by the rising water into the river.

He politely refused Mr. Allen’s invitation to alight, and rode

f

on tc the tavern above. That man was Isaac Forster. Why

showid he have been there at that time ?
“T'was monstrous kind, and right bold and pontine

too, in him to jump in de water to delibber Miss Mattie,

said Uncle Tom. “But dat don’t make him a gentleman yi.’

No, sar! I helped to pull ole master out on de Potomac,

-whar it’s a hundred times wider and deeper than dis nasty —

gally and dat didn’t make me a gentleman. No, sar!”

CHAPTER V.
THE. JOURNEY TO THE LAND OF PROMISE,

THis mishap proved a serious one to the family. The
heavy expenses attendant upon a removal from the East, over |
the mountains, had drawn so seriously upon Mr. Allen’a
straitened resources in money as to leave him comparatively
helpless to meet new outlays. His horses gone, his carriage —
ruined, winter pressing on with its numerous claims of prep- _
aration—all conspired to add seriously to the parent’s anxie-
ties. In these he had the hearty sympathy of his dutiful and
loving children. Mattie, in her solitude, pined even more
than she would confess, after the friends away—pined after a
love she would have forbidden. It was a pure love which
she entertained for Victor Carrington, But, oh! how changed
Were her circumstances from the days when, as his equal in-

fortune, she won his love! Pride, self-respect, duty—all for-

‘bade her .o still claim a hand when she was no longer ar

equal in all things. She had a brave heart; and when the —
lover followed in the retinue of friends to the Springs, he —
fearned, the night before their parting, that Mattie had

_ tesolved to sever their old bonds of engagement. “

It wes a sudden and a painful blow to the devo ed Jover
He protested in vain, however, for the woman's will wa
made up to the sacrifice ; and Victor wended his way to the —

7 ey 7 ¥ POLS ‘ we - er

eS oo
~ \ a :
/

East again, having only exacted a promise that a year at
least should pass ere Mattie should cut him off forever. A
year ! so full of hope yet so full of fear to both hearts!

eee

 

The winter passed away in that quiet home, not disagree:

one. But, the one great sorrow was present—that of expatri-
ation, of lost fortunes, of straitencad means and humbled
pride; and the spring came to find Mr. Allen still more of an
invalid than usual, On Harry must devolve the duty of the

care of his father’s estate. It was arranged that he should,

on horseback, visit every locality and tract, inspecting each
possession fully. In his young heart there still lurked the

hope ofa brighter day in store; which inspires every well-—

balanced mind; and he entered upon his task with a zeal and
trust which greatly relieved Mr. Allen’s anxiey. Harry, in that
winter of thought, had become a man—one feeling the weight
of responsibilities and willing to assume them.

It was arranged that Ben Bramble—a most faithful friend
and visitor at the mansionshould accompany Harry as
guide and counselor. Mr. Allen had confidence in the

hunter’s sagacity to meet emergencies, and to deal with the —

many unusually strange and “ hard” characters which always
go to make up the society.of early settlements.
All was arranged, and a first visit was made to the wila

and extensive “ Loop estate”—in the vicinity of Squire Tem- —
y q

pleman’s fine place. Was it strange that Harry desired to

visit that locality first? The face of fair Helen Templeman _

was an altar at which it was no sin to worship, and Harry
found in it as much comfort as ever fell to the lot.of a secret
worshiper :
The Loop lands were inspected. A squatter on the place
acted as guide; while Forster’s general directions, which had

been left with one of these unsolicited tenants, were all —

brought into requisition, to find boundaries and landmarks.
How happened he to know that the estate was to be visited
and inspected ? : en ek

Ben Bramble said but little. He fo'lowed the guide over
te place, and vather smiled at Harry's octasional. remarka

ably, for many things conspired to render the home a happy © :
5 ie > va TTS ORM ae EE oe

i> Ge Naat

: expressive of disappointment at the rough and comparatively —

worthless character of the estate. The guide was not slow

_ to confess the land poor and undesirable, and Harry returned - |

home to report the tract fully as pour as Forster had repre:

gented. Mr. Allen expressed regret, saying he had hopes —_ he

it might prove otherwise.
Ben then opened his mouth for the first. time with a oe
tound oath.

“T beg pardon,” said the honest fellow, “I beg seattion for 3
such stiff talk; “but, sir, the skunk has played too strong —

this time !”
“Explain what you mean,” said Mr. Allen.

“Mean! ‘Why, thunder and ramrods, I mean that the —

Loops is all right, and that Forster and his rogues is all

wrong—I mean that he is a blamed snake, sir—a raal mocca-
sin snake, sir, as creeps slyly without giving nobody any

warnin’ !”

Ben walked the porch in his excibomeas muttering to
Himself. Finally he stopped before the father and son.
Looking them full in the face, he pointed to the dense shad-
ows creeping up the hills as the twilight deepened in tha
valley :

“There! see that shadder! It is jist like Ike Forster's

soul. It tries to darken and blind every fair sweet spot it kin — s

touch. Don’t you, sir, let it touch you, for it will surely

darken your life! I knows that the lands you haye come

into possession of are enough to make you a nabob, sir—as
rich as the Pendletons and the Randolphs and the Washing-

- tons put together, sir; and it makes me mad to see that sneak =e
puttin’ on his poor face to you. The Loops is a great estate, |

sir; richer ’n Templeman’s by a good many deer-leaps ; and

that scoundrel who guided the young man around was playin’

Forster’s game in showing up the rocks and Swamps. — It

‘makes me so blasted mad that I wants to have a scrimmage

with somebody. I could fight a nigger ef he would only say
Forster.’ ” -

With this outburst he strode away down the lawn. to eage

his mind, in the darkness and alone. Mr. Allen apprehended _
the nature of the hunter’s surmises, His own mind was —
- ftuch excited over the matte’, and his suspicions aroused thet —

< ey aie
si xy,

BEN’S OPINION OF THE .OOP ESTATE. =
j

,

Pgh. PE ALLENS.

~

ae

Men’s Impressions were something more than tLose of dislike
He resolved to weigh the affair well in his mind and to set

with caution. 5

It was arranged, after further conference, that, to throw all
apies and interested’ parties off their guard, to have it given

‘gut that Harry had started for a trip East, over the mount-

sins, upon business of importance. This would allow of

-Harry’s visit to Kentucky without hindrance or observation.

He could visit all the tracts unobserved, and, armeu with

necessary papers, could sell and transfer such as he might —

desire to dispose of without Forster’s interference or
knowledge. $°

As that person’s lease and agency expired; over all
the premises conveyed by the parties in Alexandria, in Octo-

ber, there was nothing in the way of such sale exceyt the -

direct interference of that person or his secret agents, whom
Mr. Allen now began to discover existed in great numbers,
not only of those upon the lands, but among those having no

visible means of support—reckless characters, who infested ||

Kanawha valley much to the disorder of society and the
loss of property-holders. Shrewd observer as Ben Bramble
was, he had detected Forster’s knowledge of, and familiarity
with these fellows; and Mr. Allen had the full benefit of
Ben’s information as well as of his suspicions. .

Supplied with t’2 necessary papers, and with letters of

{introduction to several well-known residents of Kentucky,
Harry struck out one fine afternoon in April for the East,

taking the road which led up the valley. This track he fol-
lowed leisurely until dark, evidently desiring to reaco one of
the places on the hills where to rest for the nigot. The
night came on, bringing only starlight, and horse and rider
were svon hidden from view by the great shadows of the
trees, The “back trail” was then taken, and ere long

Harry’s horse was clattering off over the country to a road —
‘which struck directly down the Big Sandy valley to the

west. This he followed all night and the succeeding day,

only tarrying occasionally in sequestered spots to give his
horse needed rest and grass, while he refreshed himselt from

the stores of his well-supplied saddlebags. Thus rapidly

and secretly journeying, he was enabled to evade auy eye

 
 

i

wed ‘tains have attempted to trace his track over the
mountains. . }

 

_ Nothing occurred to our traveler worth menial til) a 3

arrived at the mouth of Big Sandy, and had climbed the
‘ateep and muddy bank of the Kentucky shore. He had

. Bearcely seated’ himself in the tavern on the bank, when ste

‘gaw a gentleman, accompanied by a servant, coming down to
the river on the same road over which he had just passed. —
They crossed over, rode up to the house, and sisi
Jn entering, the gentleman saluted Harry courteously. He
was a short, thick-set man, rather corpulent, with a counte-

nance indicating a sanguine tempcrament and great “— ee

nature.
“Sir,” said the gentleman, “I perceive that you are, like

myself, from the Old Dominion (God bless her), and going, I |
hope, to see the promised land, the dark and bloody ground, ©

the giorious garden of the West. by N

Betore Harry could make reply, the tavern-keeper, who

had entered the room, seeing the gentleman, exclaimed ;

*Captain Terrell, how do you do? I’m glad to see you,

4 thought 1 knew your horse Peacock as I came by the lot.
Bow dye do, srt” to Harry. “On your way, Captain,
from the old sewlements ?”

“Yes, sir; from tne worn-out fields of my native land. to
the fertile banks ot Weargrass. Some cool water, my dear

sir, if you please; » nave suffered extremely from heat and

“ thirst to-day.”
: The tavern-keeper stepped out, and called a seryant to
bring some cool water atrectly—straight off. Harry took

_ from his pocket-book a 1etter, and presenting it to Mr. Pere

aah said :
“T hope, sir, I am not mist«ken in presenting to you ‘this
letter from my father, Edwara Allen ?”
“T qm the very man, sir,” sai¢ Mr, Terrell, looking at the.
‘Superscription, “and most happy v have met with you.”

Ile extended his hand to Harry for a most cordial shale. <

He then opened the letter and read it.
“TL hope your father enjoys good health ?”

i

“T am sorry to say, sit, he is somewhat of. an invalid of

ubseeest, though not confined.” :
. ea = eee ee AEE

:

A ia “ origet se y er ec ge Sr Bee eee kere ae se ‘il ie

Sy

“ Flow’ 3 this, my young ‘friend? ‘This letter bears dell

father removed to the West ?”
“Yes, sir; last fall we came to live on the Kanawha.” .
+. never heard that he had left Alexandria—had no idew

that, extensively engaged in commercial business as he was, —
he would ever remove,” said Mr. Terrell. “New Hope

on the Great Kanawha~above the mouth of Coal, Ma

, Alien ?”

“Yes, sir; only a few ties below the falls,” sale
Harry.
“Bless me,” said Mr. Terrell, “I must have passed nw

 

Bedi Alexandria, but New Hope, on the Kanawha. Has yeu

door ; had I known it, I most certainly would have called on _

him, TI recollect, now, a part of que grandfather’s ential

land was located on the Kanawha.”
What apparently slight circumstances control, or seem to
control, our destinies! Had Mr. Terrell called at New

Hope, the important and touching events that remain tu
be told in this narrative would, in all human probability, |
never have happened; the great value of Mr. Allen’s lands

in Kentucky would have been» known to him, and the real
character of Isaac Forster, at least as a land-agent.

But we must leave Harry and Mr. Terrell to pursue
together their journey to the interior of Kentucky, - and
return with our readers to the neighborhood of New Hope,
barely taking time now to inform them that another trav-
¢ler, an old man of the lower order, shabbily dressed,

wayed all right at the tavern at the mouth of Big Sandy,

while Harry Allen and Mc. Terrell also lodged there.

 

 
   

OHAPTER VI.
BEN BRAMBLE EXPERIENCES A SENSATION,

Ben ‘was a frequent and ever welcome visitor at the place
afier Harry’s departure for the West. He seemed to consti-
_ tute himself a sort of out-of-door guardian for Mattie when he

was not.away on his “ tramps” in quest of sport or to obtain _
something in the way of deer, turkey or pheasamt meat with
which to delight the good old stewardess and Uncle Tom,an@d

to excite the surprise and smiles of Mattie for the unexpected
dish with which her dear father’s palate might be tempted.

Ben one day strolled down the garden to the little retreay

where Mattie used to spend much of her time. It was an
avenue lined with evergreens, and at the end grew two fresh
young willows, which evidently had been transplanted with
great care. Ben’s curiosity had never been gratified as to the
significance of the place and its associations, for thither the —
young lady used always to stray when one of her sad moods
Was upon her.

One fing afternoon Ben strayed down the lawn, and espied
Old Tom at work trimming up the ground around the retreat.
He at once directed his steps to the place, and, in answer to
his inquiries, learned of the old servant more than was gocd
for his depressed state of mind, Forster had that day been
around New Hoye, had eaten at Mr. Allen’s table, had smiled
upon Mattie, and Ben’s soul was stirred very. Leap eae 80
‘than he cared to show.

“It’s jist like de spot, Massa Ben, whar dey laid my blessed
old missus, at Alexandry. » Ole Tom stopped work to wipe
&way the tears coursing down his cheeks. ‘ She war a heab-

> enly woman, missus war; she’s gone to de odder side cb Jor- --
~ dan wid great wings ob glory, for I see’d em. Great wingg

= glory, jist like dat cloud dar,” he said, pointing to a pearly
floating in the pure blue far above. “I sometimes sees
4 Massa Ben, lookin’ down. Her face is always hid, but I
%ees her movin’ around watchin’ us. She nebber comes back
lniale ghost ob de sperit—sie don’t, "kase she's too good br dia
x > , t Se tae ee
rN oa mae Shay ey
\ é ;
a he ‘ “ :

ae [<5 aaa ALLENS, - S

yer post It’s diaby de troubled sperits dat comes back as -

ghostes.”

~ Why, Tom,” aes _— evidently deeply impressed by shia
oh negro’s manner, “ you don’t believe that men’s wisi! ble
bodies ever rise from ther graves? It’s onnat’ral.”

~“T don’t know "bout men, but women does,” said Uncle

‘Tom; “that is, ther sperits does. Pve see’d one myself,

facon Brambel.”

“ You've seen a ghost, Tom? You deceive yerself, old man.
The mortal body rots, and sperits without a body couldn’t be
seen if they was to rise. Nobody can’t see what’s onvisible.

. Besides, the good sperits goes to God, and the wicked to the

devil. Them with God is too happy ever to leave him, and —

the devil never lets go what he gits for a single minnit.”
“T tell you,” said Uncle Tom, “ TPve see’d a ghost myself,

and de debil is de very one dat does send ’em back to torment —

‘de wicked; and dey ethur makes mistakes, or they gits so like
Je debil hisself dat any scares and: tries to git good people. a
ain't gwine to trust ’em ’bout me, I know.”

“Whar, now, did you see a ghost ?” said Ben.

“Why, I’ll tell you de truf, Massa Ben, jist as it happened.
Dar was an ole ’oman nigh Alexandry dat lived by herself in
a lone house.; she used to cuss and swa’r, and drink and

quarrel, She was de most obstropolus human I ever see’d. —

Dey said she had a power of money, but nobody ever see’d

it. She had a neffew that was a sailor, and whenever he cum _
to Alexandry he used to stay wid her. When Ais money gin —
cut, as it did pretty quick arter he got ashore, for he was a_

disinpated, wild dog, as wicked as he could be to live, he’d
put at de ole ’oman for money to frolic on. He said she was
8s rich as cream, and too stingy to live; so they used to quar-
rel and cuss one another ebery time he was thar. One morn-

in’, arter he had bin thar, the ole ’oman was found dead in —

her bed, and he couldn’t be found nowhar. He warn’t iy
none of the sips at the wharf, nor in none of the bad houses

out town. The doctors said she was kilt by vilence, and

everybody laid it to her neflew. They said Billy Dark done
it. They couldn’t find no money in de house. Well, de ole—
oman was buried between the house and de main road, J
Was thar when dey put her in de ground, and de grave wag at

Pos

 

 

>
apie we OE Ee elt ak OG ae ve " oe Bar ae ae eee eee

   

BENS OPINION OF augers, ae

— five fot deep, and the yearth piled up a:top of that ‘ult, i
- I thought, to keep her from ever rising. ’ Not long arter dat 1

was ridin’ long dat road into town, thinkin’ ’bout her, when —
I got not fur from de grave (I had bin noddin’ from a dram
Mr. Custis gin me); all at once I see’d her in her windin’)
sheet as plain as I see you, Massa Ben. She riz right up out
on de ground, and was a comin’ toward me so fast that TP
dlapped spurs to de horse, and neber stopped twell I gut
kome.”

“You was seared, Tom, by yer own -tienghad: ” said Beny
“and then remagined you see’d her.”
“No,” replied Uncle Tom; “she had riz, for Billy Dark

the next day come and gin hisself up, and said she tormented
him so he had no peace in his mind; that he did not know
what brought him back to town, but he couldy’t help comin ;
and the minnit he laid down to sleep, his Aunt Phebe (dat
was her name) cum to his bedside in the dark, and said to
him, ‘Billy, you’ve sent your soul to hell for thirty dollars.’
He said he jumpt right up, and tried to seize her, but she waa
gone; so [ knowed it was shu I see’d the evenin’ before—dat
is, ’twas her ghost, sure enough; for she was gwine then arter:

y Billy. ’Twas she fotched him back to town to git him hung,
as he was, you may be sartin.”

“People that believe in things,” said Ben, “ can see ’em
‘when they ain’t thar; and them as does wicked things is so
formented by that feelin’ that God has put in us to keep ug

_ from doing wrong, that ther own wickedness rises up before —
‘em in the shape of them they’ve injured, and they take it for
» §& ghost or a sperit; or if they ain’t done no harm, but is —

timorsome, and has bin scared when they was young by ghost
stories, ther own fear rises afore ’ein; that’s the sperit they —
gees. Billy Dark kilt his aunt, and his conshance raised hia,
- own crime in the shape of his aunt. Conshance, Uncle Tom,
is a powerful ghost-raiser. Many a time, when I’ve shot down
a buck feedin’ in the woods, and not suspicioning that any
-, thing was nigh to hurt him, and arterward laid down to slecp
and was  Jist dozing-like, Pve see’d the cretur fallin’ down and
. quiveiin’ in the death-struggle jist as when I shot him in the
wood. Now, ’sposin’ it had bin a man or a woman T had
shot down, and I was all a trimblin’, half awake and half |
i)

asicep, then, ‘steud ofa deer, *twould jams bin a sperit or ae

 

ghost, certain, and it would have haunted me jist like _ .
Aunt Phebe’s ghost did Billy Dark. I tell ye, Tom, them a9
dies now, by fair or foul means, never rises till the great day ie

of the gineral insurrection.”
“Wouldn’t you, if you was kilt by onfair means, Miwa

Ben, want to haunt them as did it?” pe

“No, Tom, I should want to keep away from ’em even
arter I was dead; and when they ley me in the ground, .
want to lay ‘longside of good people.” .

“Lor! Massa Ben, you fear’d, if they berry you ’mong de —
wicked, dat when de debil come to get his own, he make

mistake and take you?” — 3

“No, Tom; but I want to be ’mong good people in life
and in death. I’ve got nobody to care for me now on this
yearth—no father, nor mother, nor brother, nor sister ; and if
80 be .I die anywhar hereabouts, I want to be laid in the

y
Fm

ground here in this garden. Mr. Allen and his children fear ont

God, and love him, and ther fellow-creturs too.”

Old Tom was meaval even to tears; he sobbed aloud, and —

s0 soon as he could repress his foelings sufficiently to speak,
he said :

“ Don’t talk so, Massa Ben; you make me feel like a child.
What I gwine do if ole massa and Miss Mattie die fore me?
I can’t tink of dat; I want dem to lay me in de ground, 108
and not leave me out here in de woods by myself.” pede

Ben Bramble walked away to the two willows, and sat
down between them, while Uncle Tom remained standing for

some time leaning on his hoe as if in deep thought, and then a

dropped the hoe and went off to the house.

“ Where is Ben Bramble ?” said Mattie, as he entered the
door; “I’ve got a present for him.”

“ ffe’s down in de bottom of de garden, missus, Ba
down whar he is to be buried.”

“ Good heaven! is he ill? Has he been hurt -

“Oh no, missus; but ‘he an’ I got to talkin’ "bout ghosts
and sperits, and so ’bout graves; and he said he wanted to —

- lib and be laid in de ground whar good people lay—whar you
sn’ massa lay, if so be he should be tooken away hereabonia « wg

‘* And he shall be, Thomas,” said Mr. Allen, feelingly, “ if

s way
lie
 

ABOUT pyina.

: he iti it; but here he comes. Why, Ben, you are not |
thinking about dying, and leaving us, I hope? Thomas haa |

just told us you have been nal for a place in the garden

to be buried. You will live maify a long year yet, my good

friend, I hope. You are hale and hearty, and may outlive al

of us.”

“ We must all go when we are called,” replied Ben, “ and
that’s when God pleases.”

“True,” said Mr. Allen, “and we should try to be always

ready; and if we are, it matters little when we are taken from

_

this world of trial, and still less where our perishing bodies

are laid. Yet it is a natural, and a good feeling too, to wish

to be laid in the grave beside those we loved while living, and

whose memory is dear to us when dead.”

“That’s what I was thinkin’ of,” said Ben, with a look of
earnest inquiry at Mr. Allen. “Tm a stranger-like in this
country now, and I feel, sir, more like I was at home here,
‘mong friends that I vally, than anywhars else.”

“Come and live with us, then,” said Mattie.

“ No, honey,” replied Ben; “ my ways ain’t like gentlefolls? ,

ways; I can’t be comfortable long say hats now but in the
woods.”

“Then,” said Mr. Allen, “if you can’t live with us always,
be with us whenever it gives you pleasure, Ben; and when

buried where we will be buried.”

“T thank you, sir,” said Ben, evidently with deep emotion.
“Tt is a favor I shall vally.”

“Don’t talk about dying, Ben,” said Mattie; ; “Pve just got

- & present for you. Now guess what it is.”

“T mought as well whistle at a mark, ” said Ben; “ T should

‘ Rever hit it.”

_ “Never mind if you miss,” rejoined Mattie. “It’s not aft 2
you do that, I believe.”

‘Ben raised his hand to his chin, and a sudden thought
seemed to strike him. With an apology for a smile, turning

— to Mr. Allen, he said :

“t's a cake of soap, I guess—a sort of a hint *hout not

_ Shaving this week. But I never could make out why the
women —— to beards, seeing that they are nat’ral ; scrapin
= '

 

*

_you die, if you desire it, and we outlive you, you shall be aah
~. and I recollect, now, that they always have long bear

Fa heaped fom oa ergo ae ‘ Ses ne

 

‘em off is outs a fashtin, The dunkers don’t dc it, and Pye aa
hearn that their wives uses their husbands’ beards for a towel. %
Whar’s the soap, Miss Mattie ?” ite

“TI declare, Ben, you mist be a wizard to guess we well;

“No, I ain’t’a wizard,” said Ben; “my father was a Bram-
‘ble, and my mother a Dennison—Margaret Dennison was hey
- Mame; and if any of my ancient posterity was 8 wizard, _
must a bin so fur back I never heard on ’em.” :

Mattie left the room, and presently, after calling a young —
hound of Ben’s, and saying to her, “ Here, Kate, carry the é
soap to your master,” returned, followed by Kate. 4

The young hound seemed to know what was intended, for
she walked straight up to Ben, wagging her tail, and carried *
the preseut suspended to her neck. Ben’s eyes dilated with
pleasure as he detached from her neck a powder-horn of cu it
rious and beautiful workmanship, accompanied by a ‘pouch |
not less remarkable.

“ Bless my soul!” said he, “ this is of more vally than eee,
bar’ls of soap. I guessed clean wrong.”

“ Indeed, you aid not,” said Mattie “TI se security the
goxp’s there.” i Pil

“Tn this nice os then ?” said Ben, indalcttealy ee

“No, indeed, but in the powder-horn |”

“Soap in a powder-horn! Ha! ha! ha! honey, you Gate:
fool an old hunter arter that fashion. Soap in a powder-hora
--ha! ha! ba!”

“Look in the end of the horn, ee g the glass 0:
shave by, and why not the soap ?” rea —

Ben looked, and, to bis amazement, found a mirror, ou 4
get in a rim of silver, at the larger end of the horn. : a

“ Well,” said he, “this is the beat of all I ever see’d yit— .
_ @ .ooking-glass in a powder-horn, to shaye by in the woods

But, soap and powder can’t go together, no how (nolding up
he horn to the light)» Thar’s nothing but powder in ¢

“Yes, there is,” said the pleased girl, touching the silver:
knob of the spring that confined the glass in ts place. The
mirror moved out on its hinge. ;

“Look in there behind it.” 4

He could ar dly believe his own eyes, when, peering nto 7

4 x

 
   
 
 
'

&

_ thought to have found a dinner-pot, washing-tub and frying. —

“MATTTE’S ae BEN ye

“the cavity, he beheld a circular silver basin? ‘with a ie of
Boap ‘n it.
. “ Pull the basin out by that little chain.”

as withdrew the basin with the soap, ae while he wap

- admiring it, Mattie said :
“You see, Ben, you guessed right, after all.’
“So I. did, onknowingly; but I euinte as well have

pan in a powder-horn as a looking-glass, shavin’-cup and,
soap. This is the ingeniousest contrapshion my eyes ever lit
upon; and here’s something else in here yit,” said he, peepi
into the still smaller cavity disclosed by the removal of the
basin. “As I live, here’s flints and a screw-driver.”

“ Yes,” said Mattie, “and that is all in the horn excen‘ the — 3

powder, from which you can see they are entireiy ees
rated.”

Ben’s hands actually trembled as he odie and replaced —
these articles in their proper places a dozen times over, and

 
     

e 3

‘touched and retouched the spring of the glass. Mattio es

shoulder.
“Tt fits his side exactly,” remarked she, laughingly, “ though *
the maker took no measure.” :

“He that made this,” said Ben, “ could work without. any

, Measure; and here’s the picker for the tapes) and the stop-

per, both fastened by strings, to keep ’em from bein’ lost mS
the hurry of loadin’.”

hung the strap which was attached to the horn over his —

Ben examined the pouch. It was inate of the aking ofthe

vicuna of Peru. In its false bottom it contained a case

- With two razors, a brush and comb, and above were the usual

‘divisions for small game, bullets, pellets, ete. Ben was at —
- Beme loss to discover how to get at. the lower compartiums,

till Mattie showed him a false flap, buttoned to the uppe®
_ edge of the pouch, under the exterior flap or cover prope:

 

On unbutioning this, the case came out below the upper di.

Visions. After replacing all, and slinging the pouch over his

shoulder, Ben looked up at Mattie and said : \

“T never had sich a present afore’since 1 was born; and I
_ prize it mighty high, but not so high, Miss Mattie, as I vally
the ee of the giver. ri try te keep that, and ‘these

z

*
i

oe

 
  

“wo, a3 long as tfere’s breath in my body.” Thr. cans fellow :
pressed the gift to his lips, and slipped away &.wn the lawn
_ to ease his heart in a real manly ery. Of suck. stuff are your: :
true, brave souls made. :
_ We do uot certainly know how Mattie obtained frase curt-
ous and costly articles, evidently of European manufacture,
which she presented to Ben Brambie; but we suspect that a _
certain young gentleman, then in England, had received go
graphic an account of Ben from one of his correspondents in _
_ America, that he had them made expressly for him. This —
we do know, that they, and sundry other articles and pack-
ages, were contained in a large deal bux, which arrived at

- Mr. Allen’s a few days before, directed to “Miss Mattie

‘Wynne Allen, Kanawha county, Virginia, U.S.of N. A. To |
the care. of Edwin Bird, Esq., Alexandria, Vir, ginia. This
side up. V. C.” i
_ We suppose that the initials, U. &. of N. A., are to be sn
translated “ United States of North America.” But what the

V. 0. meant we can only surmise. z ss

 

Ben returned after a long absence, his face again over
clouded. Mattie was sitting on the porch, evidently convers-
ing with pleasant memories, He watched her a moment in |
silence, while a feeling of pain quickly rested on his face, :
He walked to the porch and seated himself in silence on ‘the ae
steps. pe

“J hope you are not unwell, Ben; you look weary and
low-spirited to-day,” said Mattie, kindly.

“Not sick, nor tired; but sorry, honey,” said Ben.

“Why so?” said she,

“Zac Forster’s been here to-day tryin’ to make hist
agreeable,” he spoke out, nervously and strongly.

-“And ought not everybody to ae, to make themselves

- agreeable ?” said Mattie.

“Yes, when they dovit from sae natur, and mean it is
gatvral arnest. But when Zac Forster’s most agreeable-like,
iv’e my notion he’s most dangerous; just like asnake that
makes his skin shine’ with the most beautiful colors whos ee
he’s charmin’ a bird. I s’pose you know what he doa that :
- for?” ao

 
* a Pe i ti nae tiny BP 4 os
SS ele : : i EA yea be

   

‘BEN’s WARNING.

Mattie blushed, and thinking that Ben had by some
‘means discovered that Mr. Forster was in love — her, ei
she said:

“Ben, he may charm me as ; much as he can, I shall hardly
fall in love with Mr. Forster. I am not a bird to flutter up —

_ to the mouth of the charmer.”

Ben looked up at her, all lovely as she was, and suffused

with the deepest tints of the rose. A new light broke upen
his mind. The object of Forster’s designs, he thought, stood
before him, and he had had no more idea of Forster’s loving

_ her, or aspiring to the hand of Mattie Allen, than of his at- —

_ tempting to pluck a star from the heavens. He rose from his ~

seat, and with a look of blasted terror, and an energy of ex-

- pression that made Mattie tremble, he exclaimed, fixing poe ;
eyes upon her:

. “Mattie Allen, I’d rather see a painter lapping yer heart’s

blood, or Simon Grety and the wild Indians roast you alive

after tearing cff that beautiful hair from your quiverin’ skull,
than to see you the wife of Zac Forster. I love you, Mattie

Allen, God knows, but not with a lovyer’s love; I ain’t such

# fool as that. Bewar’ of that man! Don’t let him come
nigh you; a young, innocent cretur like you don’t know what

some men can do. A power is gin’em over the hearts of

women. They has means that no mortal woman knows on
-or can hold out agin. They has the gift of charmin’, the
same as the wicked sarpent; and the poor gal they fixes ther
- gilarin’ eyes upon comes nigher and nigher, while he circles
round and round, and shines brighter and brighter, till the
fascinated gal, like the poor bird, onable to fly, is seized, and
_ Bives the death-cry—too late, too late; all the bright colors
_ is gone, and the poor innocent cretur, lookin’ on Bish with her
dyin’ eyes, sces nothin’ but a rough, scaly snake, with his
Pison fangs in her heart.”
“Oh! don’t talk so” said Mattie; “my dear, kind friend a
_ you make me shudder. You don’t know what a aes iS
_ picture you have drawn.” , aa
— “Tt ain’t a pictur’,” said Ben; “it’s the truth; DPve see’u it
_ I want you to know it’s true, to guard yerself agin it, that
_ you may nevor have a feelin’ experience of it, Mattie,” he

~

/

<
’ sic % ‘ 4 BX
. THE ALLENS =

 

“Thank you, Ben, thank you; but be assured there is no _
danger.” . : Reh Soyo a i ee
. “Phar a danger; and them that don’t see it is aptest to
~ fall into it. I’ve see’d women that hated a man like pison—
wouldn’t let him tech ’em; and yet, arter he had conjurea_
’em in some onaccountable way, they’d resk life for him,
hough he was wicked, and mean, and ugly. It’s a gift, Mise
Mattie, as sure as you are born—a secret gift. Thar was one -—
Vincent Wash in Old Virginny—mayhap you have hearn of —
him. He was an onfavored, onlarnt man of the common |
sort, ongentlemanlike in his manners, and not rich; yet he
married seven wives, one arter another, as fast as they died;
and some on’em was quality, high-larnt gals, and beautiful,
that had plenty of other men to ax ’em, too; so it warn’t for
the lack of a husband they took him. Some women marries
whether or no, just to be married (more fools they) ;. but that
-warn’t their case that married that man through conjuration ;
some said it was powders; some said it was his breath, or
somethin’ that come out on his eyes. He said if he could
only git nigh enough to put his hand upon any mortal wo-
man, she’d be sure to give up. Many women that heard on
him, and some on ’em not the purtiest in the world, was so
afeard of the man, that they said, ‘Please God, he shouldn’t
tech ’em with a forty-foot pole.” Many men, I b’lieve, hag
the power of that man, that don’t know it twell they try, like
them as can find water with a green twig, or can put ther _
thoughts and feelin’s into sou e other people by looking in
ther eyes and holdin’ ther thumbs. I tell you, bewat” of Zac
Forster, I’ve see’d him do strange, onnat’ral things with my ~
own eyes.” ~
“Why, Ben, the days of witchcraft are passed,” smd
Mattie. .
“Don’t you b'lieve it, honeys Men and women bewitch
ons another yit; and some men can do other onnat’ral —
things, and Zac Forster is one on ’em.. I was once avar- “
~gyin a chain for him, Nat Colly and I. He was on afore
with his compass, and when he got to the bank of the New _
River, we see’d him walkin’ up and down the bank, starin?
gt somethin’ on Vother side. So, when we measured up to
the water, he says, ‘ Well, boys, the line crosses here.to that —

ca ag

  

/ 7

/

 
 

Loh e:s * Fe Sat ae a. ale: RE be ee tare a ee
Shia pale. ale PE Be rH 3

aa be etigah es

CONJURATION, =

IT know the distance’ ‘It’s in the deed? says I. ‘No, says

he, ‘the man that measured afore was no conjurer, and has
put it wrong Bs the deed! but Pve measured it while you ~
were comin’ up.’ Now I know’d he hadn’t crossee the rivers -

- ‘gouldn’t know; but it’s exactly one hundred and seventeen:
_ yards and nine inches.’ And off he went to the ferry, Nat
- Colly and I stared at one another. ‘It’s guess-work,’ says L

 

‘tree on the bank. You can’t measure 4¢ with the Seis bat ¥

and had never bin thar before, for it was jist arter he come

vat here from the old settlements. ‘ How fur is it? says L
‘tf I was to tell you in poles and links, says he, ‘you

‘ Let’s measure it,’ says he; ‘I’ve got a trout-line jist below
here long enough to stretch across. So. we went and got

the line and Nat’s canoe, and we measured from the last. stick

to the tree. It was a box elder, and, as sure as ’ma livin,
man, it was exactly as he said—one hundred and seventeer-

yards and nine inches; for Nat had a two-foot rule in hie.

pocket, and we cut a hickory sprout, and made a yard-stick,

and measured the line that stretched across from the stick to

the tree,

“Arter we went up to the ferry we were talkin’ tboud the "
distance Nat’s rifle would carry a ball. Nat was standin’ on
a stone in the yard, and he said, ‘She’ll carry a ball from
whar I stand straight to that lower limb on the big’ wa’nut- —
tree.” ‘She won't, says I, ‘for it’s two hundred. yards,and
the ball will fall some. She’ s too small in the bore for that? —

He up with his gun and blazed away, and struck just below) .

=

the liab. ‘Thar, now, says I, ‘didn’t I tell youso? ‘l1ts

more nor two hundred yards,’ says he, ‘and ll measure it,

Let’s go in the house and get a ball of twine.” Forster was
sittin’ in the porch listenin’, and when we eum back—ws
didn’t stay ten minits—he says, ‘ You needn’t measure; Nat’a

right. The line of the ball through the air is two intindred

and twenty-eight yards and a half? ‘Whar from? says i

From the muzzle of his rifle as he stood on the stone,’ saya

‘he. ‘It'can’t be, says I,‘and I'll measure it’? ‘Why, { _
have measured it, says he, ‘better than you can with any

~ hne!’ ‘How? says I. ‘By a conjuration, says he, Well, ‘
I wasn’t satisfied. ‘Here, Nat, tie this eend-of the string —

y .
*

~ found the gun, and make a knot on it at the muzdle; stand

 
 

: THE ALLENS

on the rock, and I'll go with the ball oat climb the tree, whi

then do you tuke aim, and Til stretch the string” I clumb =

the tree at least thirty foot, sot on the limb, and done it. It
was jist as Forster said, Now, no man, by natal power _
and fair means, can measure a line through the air. I don’t
want, and I don’t want them as I cares for, to have nothin’
to do with them that’s got onnat’ral gifts.”

“Why, Ben,” said Mattie, “there’s nothing strange o
unnatural in that: any mathematician can easily do the —
4, same.” ; ‘

Ben shook his head saying:

“T don’t want ’em ‘bout me if they are like Zac Forster.
I don’t believe in ghosts and sperits of dead men, but I do
believe ott onnat’ral powers and gifts in livin’? men and
women.”

Ben, seeing Mr. Allen approaching the house, went out to
meet him. They stood conversing in the yard for half an
hour; and Mattie could readily perceive, from Ben’s earnest —
manner and vehement gestures, the deep interest which he
felt in the subject of their conversation. ;

When he returned to the house, Ben seemed to be more
cheerful. The cloud had passed off from his honest
face.

- Goodby, honey! I wish you much joy!” he said, pull-.
ing off his cap, bowing, and hurrying away.

“He is a noble fellow,” renee Mr. Allen, as Ben dis-
appeared.

“ He is, indeed,” was Mattie’s earnest response.

Mattie did not surmise that Ben’s disquiet had been pan-
ished by Mr. Allen’s assurance that his daughter’s hand was
plodged to one every way worthy of her
 

CHAPTER VII.
THE CONFEDERATE ROGUES

ux letter already referred to, written by Jones Carter to
aia “Dear Zack,” lifted the vail somewhat on Forster’s true
character and hinted that his associations were not of, the

most reputable stamp. It will be found that Kanawha —

valley held within its precincts many a rogue, but that few

were more clever at villainy than this same “honest Isaaq _

Forster.’ As promised in that letter, Carter’s son, Samuc’ =
a dissipated and reckless fellow, not entirely lost to good prin- —
ciples however vicious his associations might be—visited the
valley, charged with a mission from the elder Carter, “in the
horse bitsiness, ” at Alexandria, to Forster and several other
confederates “ in the line.” Among these confederates should
now be mentioned Jimmy Dixon—a professed jockey, who
was well known throughout that region, as one of the most
noted traders and most ridiculous liars in all the settlements.
Tie was a gambler as well as trader, fleecing all who were
unlucky enough to fall into his hands. The rendezvous for
those who seemed particularly familiar with Dixon was at

»

Simpson’s store—a place of low resort not fur from the Bal- .

lenger place, where the worst characters of that entire region |
were sure to congregate. To this foul den Carter soon found
his way, and, being “just from the dépét,” was well supplicd —
with money. The “dépdt” was Alexandria, where Carter
the elder “ operated ” in the horse-trade—disposing of horses
- which his friends in the valley sent to him.

One evening in April, a few days succeeding the departure —
of Harry for Kentucky, an old man, as if just in from a long
| Journey, rode by Simpson’s store. He was hailed by Dixon, but ©
 gefusing.to alight passed on. A signal, however, called Hee
out and the two were soon together, some distance up the road, —
“Forster wants you, Dixon,” said the fellow on the horse,

“ What's up?”
“Don’t exactly know. He’s mighty consarned about sone.

ty thing. I guess somebody’s got in the ring.” “

 
ee we e ge Pde

 

a ee om ALLENS. ee
= Oh, { guess not,” said Dixon. loweue rm go and
gee. Where you from, now ?”

“Just in from Kentuck.”
“ Any luck ?”

_ “Purty good—that is, fair—four hosses will be in the oot s

w-night.”
“Where’s Swinton ?”
“Over the river. He’s after big game, I guess, though it’s
‘hard to tell. His coin goes well. I haye seen nothin’ elsa
but them hills for ever so long.”

“Wal ha! Swinton is sharp enough and smart enough for

a Congressman, and I showldn’t wonder if he should ‘find his —

way to Washington. We kin send him to Richmond at any —

time he says so; but I guess he’s bound to go to Washington.” _
“Ef he wants to go he must be sent,” said the horseman,

as he rode along.

Obed Stapler was this rogue’s name. He, as the reader

will surmise,was one of the confederates, operating “ along the
line,” from Kentucky. His relations to our story wiu be more

clearly apprehended by recurring to a portion cfan interview

which had been held between him and Forster.
“Impossible, Obed Stapler,” said pes “you are mistaken ; ;
young Allen has gone to Old Virginia.”

“No such thing,” said Obed. “I tell you I stayed all night —

at the mouth of Big Sandy, and he was there on his way to
the district of Kentucky. I heard Mr. Terrell call fim by

_ his name twenty times; besides, I see’d the young man from >

the bush when he went to see that land his father Uaims, in
the Loop. I am not mistaken, Mr. Forster.”
“What Terrell ?” said Isaac.

“Qaptain Dick Terrell, that lives on Beargrass. I know —

him as well as I know you, Mr. Forster—that is, by sight.”
Tsaae’s face became black as night. He paced the room,

and muttered to himself, “The best tract joins ‘ierrefl’s land.
All will be knowu. What I do must be done quickly. I

thought it strange young Carter did not meet him. I thought
he must have passed him in the night. They suspect ; that’s

the reason they reported he was going to Virginia, "T'waa - :
_ done to deceive me as to his motions—a deep scheme |” Thua 3
- muttering, he strode up to Stapler, seize” him by the ara and

 

ne;

 
 

s ? % es

: Renta
7

HONEST ISAAC IX A FI URRY.
tesehepst with the eyes of ¢ a fiend flashing fary in hs ‘fh, he
said ;

tempting to deceive me, and if you do, ll send sour souk to.
perdition.”

“T tell you it’s the truth, sir,” said the old man, trembling —
from head to foot. “TI know I can’t deceive you if I was Lo:
sty, which God knows I never did.”

Forster relaxed his iron grasp, turned tc the table, poured
cut half a tumbler of spirits, and drank it off at a draught.

   

pean Obed Stapler, it’s 3 lie! you are, for some purpose, | G78

‘Tell Dixon—you’ll find him at the store or on the road =

komewhere as you go along—to come here Ae Be off |
sir “a
Stapler, glad to get away, rose and departed instanton look.

_ ing behind as if he expected a bullet through his head before ae

he reached his horse. We already know that he delivered —
- Forster's message to Mr. Dixon. The latter was very soon at

Mr. Forster’s, for he knew, from Stapler’s remarks about —

 Fofster, to use his own words, that there was “a screw loose
somewhere.” He found Isaac pacing the room like a caged.
tiger, in deep thought. His eyes were red and his face flushed,

f=

In order to understand the conversation which ensued —

between these men, it is necessary to make our readers

Requainted with certain particulars in relation to Mr. James
Dixon. In passing through the Loop, and to and from the
' taore eastern parts of Virginia, he had frequently called at
Squire Templeman’s; and although Miss Helen. despised the
whan for his great mendacity and evident looseness of moral

principles, yet she was amused by his fabulous tales, laughed :

at them and at him—which latter he did not perceive—asked
him many questions about persons with whom she was

x aequainted in Old Virginia, and conversed with lim so frecly. =

_ and pleasantly that Jimmy took it into his head that she waa
very much pleased with him, if not in love, It flattered his

_ Vanity so much that he determined to court the young lady
in pure pity. He felt sure of success. The more he saw of

_ her, and the more the idea of zourting her occupied his mind,

the more did he become interested in Miss Helen, till at last

_ he was really as much in loye with her as it was possible for |

= such a man to be.
ae

iy Rae yey : aay: . a

SA oe THE ALIENS. + eo

%:

i

se What's wanting, Mr. Forster » said Dixon, as lie entered te

the room. “ Obed Stapler told me you wanted to see me.”

“Where,” said Forster, “ is that squinting rascal that went

with you as a driver to Virginia—Slocus I think you called
nim ?”

“J sent him off” ”-replied Jimmy; “he was a d—d deal. too

knowing, and had too much curiosity for my use.” 4
“Where is he ?” said Isaac again.
“Gone to Kentucky,” replied Jimmy.
“T thought so,” said Isaac, very slowly, and pausing at every
word. “ And where is young Allen ?” he contin ed. .
“ Why, gone to Old Virginia,” replied Jimmy.

Isaac raised his eyes, and fixing them on Jimmy, said: “ It’s

no such thing, Dixon; that was only a sham report to blind
your eyes. He's gone to Kentucky to hunt up Slocus. He's

not content with disappointing your just expectations of mar-

rying Templeman’s daughter—he is aiming at your reputation
and life, Mr. Dixon, and the poor devil wants the rewards

offered for counterfeiters, their aiders and abettors. He’s on

& hot trail after you.”

Jimmy turned pale as ashes. Isaac watched his counte-
nance, and, after a short pause, he resumed:

“They are drawing the net arcund you, my friend; and
unless you have the a and courage to break the meshes;
it’s all over with you.”

“Gone to Kentucky to hunt up Slocus, did you say, sir?”
asked Jimmy.

“Yes, man, didn’t you hear what I said ? Stapler fans

him at the mouth of Big Sandy, and heard him making par-

ticular inquiries when Slocus passed, and described him: red ~

hair, limps in the left foot, squints with the right eye, five feet

' nine inches high. He'll bribe that fellow, bring him back,

and unless he is followed and stopped in his proceedings—” -

“Tl follow him and stop him too. He shall never come
back alive. I can track up people as well as Mr, William
Henry Allen, I guess,” said Jimmy.

wg thought it my duty to a friend, Mr. Dixon, as soon as I poe

pecame informrd of the danger of his position, to tell him of
it,” said Isaac Forster, “that he might take such measures as

sre due to his affections, his character, and his life,”
ame

Myer

4 FORSTER ae ‘A: FRIEND.

gle

 

“ & thousand thanks, Mr. Forster. Tm pound: to Fo for”
' dfe, sir. Ill be after the villain in two hours. How are you —
off, friend Forster, for loose cash? I must borrow a smull sum _
- if you can spare it.”

“T can let you have a couple of hundred on the staat

terms,”

“Qb, of course,” said Jimmy. ae
tat And, ” said Isaac, “if I don’t hear from you by what
time shall I say ?”

“The first of July,” replied Jimmy; “for this matte
requires caution and fixing to do it right.”

“Very well,” said Isaac, “if I don’t hear from you before |
the first of July, I may certainly know that you have finished
your business in Kentucky satisfactorily.”

_ “Yes,” replied Jimmy ; “if it ain’t finished by that day,
you'll hear it from me. But finished it shall be, one way o1
another.”

“ Remember, Dixon, that I am greatly interested asa friend,”
paid Forster, “in your success ; and punctuality is all-import-
ant in friendshin as well as in business a word will be suffi-
cient, such as,‘I am happy to inform you my business in |
Kentucky has been settled to my satisfaction.’ ”

“T understand,” said Jimmy; “nv particulars need be
mentioned.”

“ And,” said Forster, “let me give you one piece of siaaele-
my young friend: it is better to let things of importance alone

* than to half do them, or to trust them to incompetent agents,

or to persons who may prove unfaithful. It is not every man
that offers to discharge a delicate and important trust that can —

be relied on; I know that: from my own experience, Mn

Dixon.” ns
Isaac Forster dic know it from his own experience. He _
handed Jimmy two hundred dollars, took his note for the
same, and Jimmy immediately departed. Isaac looked after.”
him as he rode off at full gallop, and said :
““ Hek do tt. A woman is in the case. He'll do it” And -

- “honest Isaac” was happy again.
  

CHAPTER VIII.
JOB TERRY, THE PEDDLER.

t , 7 « \

fos Terry was a character, such as the backwoods only
tan produce. A sober, honest, industrious’ fellow every —
sottler knew Job—every family had a welcome for him as he
passed around his well-beaten circuit, in his six months’ visits

with his little pack of merchandise, and great one of news,

novelties, and small-talk. At every house, as night-fall came,
Job was invited to stay all night. He was never charged for —
his accommodation ; but the good housewife or the children

were sure to receive an equivalent in some little useful o7_
agreeable present made at the moment of his departure. He

scattered through the country more copies of “ Poor Richard,”
“The Housewife’s Guide,” “ The Farmer’s Almanac,” “ Live
and Let Live,” etc., etc., than any other man, and we verily

believe that few colportewrs of modern days diffuse more —
information than did Job Terry. He had been this. spring to

—Oid Virginia for his usual supply of goods.

On his return, as soon as he passed the Blue Ridge into the

valley, he was much annoyed by counterfeit money, offered to

him by persons whom he knew to be honest, and above all
suspicion of attempting knowingly to pass spurious coin.

-. This annoyance increased as he came on westward.
He had examined these coins so carefully, and weighed
them so often on the ends of his fingers, that he could distin-

- guish them instantly, even by touch in the dark. He tray-

eled on westward, and on the first of July, a very warm day,
arrived at the store of Simpson, between the Falls of Kanawha
end Mr, Allen’s.

“ How are you, friend Terry ?” said Mr. Simpson.

“Well, I thank you, Mr. Simpson, but very warm and
tired,” said Jxp, taking off his pack and — down.
“ Whats the news on the river ?”

“ None worth relating,” replied Mr. Simpson ; “ dull tinsel:

and but little money. I’ve taken in sa little change lately, —
— eat T couldn’t change a twenty-dollar bill for Mr. Allen tnia-
 

os sahiiing ‘He ’said he wanted dhatice for’ you, friend ob, pat
could not get it.”

gee yo'.”

   
 
 

TE counrunrast ‘DOLLAR.

“Why, he needn’t have ‘put himself to any trouble about Sigh

C that,” said Job. “He will pay, I know. ‘There ain’t an

honester man in the world than that same Mr. Allen.” =
“ What news eastward ?” said Mr. Simpson. :
“Why, old rascals and new counterfeits,” replied Sob,
* Your servant, Mr. Ferster ; you were sitting so still I aida

Mr. Forster was sitting behind the door reading a news S

_ paper. He nodded to Job, and continued reading.

“ New counterfeits ?” said Simpson.

“ Yes,” replied Terry. “ The old ones are plenty as ‘Black
berries all the way from Waynesborough to this place. I got
used to them, and could tell them day or night, by sight or
touch. But yesterday, at the falls, a new one deceived me—
wonderfully well executed, and made to look old, and rubbed,
but lately coined, ll be sworn. Here it is. I got it of that _
frolicking young blade, Sam Carter, who had much better be — =
at home than vee here drinking, and gaming, and passing

- counterfeit money.”

Simpson looked at the bad dollar, and handed it to Mi,
Forster, saying : ieee

“If that’s a counterfeit I’m no judge of money. What do
you say, Mr. Forster ?”

“T know very little of such things,” said Isaac, examining :
the piece of money closely, “ but I should say that is a B008, 2
dollar; if it is not, it would deceive me.”

“ Give me a file,” said Terry to Simpson; “Tl cone ice x
you in a moment.” es

He took the file handed to him, and drawing it across , the Fag
edge of the dollar, held it up to the light, and said:

“ Look there, gentlemen ; nothing but base. mietal—not fours

pence worth of silver in it. I really do think, Mr. Forster,

that you, and other gentlemen of property, and influence, and
knowledge, who have large dealings in money, and are so

much interested that it should be genuine, should take meas: —
“ares to detect and bring to punishment the makers and cireu
~ ators of these counterfeits. They must be hereabouts some
Where, for this js one of a new stamp, the first Pve mebwith,

 
a if pod yetiat Sas ‘a = : > Pigs oa Re I ree vg ae CN a ine Sf Kee Pg
ba RN or ie See TB ALLENS 3

e

 

and Liven upon it, not 6 fir from the place whiere it was aia
I for one, gentlemen, shall keep my eyes open, and my ears too

, and will do all I can, Mr. Forster, to rid the country of anen 2 bs

rascals.”
“ That’s the duty of every good citizen,” said Isaac. “You
- got it, you say, of young Carter ?”
“Yes, sir,” said Job, “I did. The young man was half
drunk, and said, at first, he had no change to pay me fora

handkerchief he asked to look at, saying he had somehow lost — :

_ his handkerchief the night before; then he burst out a laugis

ing, and said: ‘ How forgetful I am; here’s a dollar for the
jiandkerchief, Mr. Peddler. I remember, now, that last night
I was out of siren and Mr. Forster gave me five dollars in
silver for a note.”

“ That’s all a mistake,” said Forster, quickly; “the young |
fellow must have been intoxicated, as you say, Mr. Terry. 1
gave him no change, but he changed a five-dollar note for
me.”

“These wild, rattling young fellows,” said ‘Rimapapny “ hardy
ever know how their money comes or goes.”

Job, seeing Mr. Forster about to depart, said to him :

“Tf you see Mr. Allen, sir, in pasuitig his house, please to
say to him I shall be along to- morrow.’

“Very well,” said Forster, bidding them good-day, and
riding off.

“ Tlow immensely rich that man has got to be,” said Simp-
son to Job. “He is buying every good piece of land in the
market, and paying the cash down for i825

“He gets it the cheaper for that, friend Siariyedn panei
—discount, sir-—heavy discount is allowed for cash, you know,
‘in these hard times. Any hese in my way, Mr. Simpson a8

“Yes; open your pack.”

Job opened his pack, threw its contents on the counter, told
‘Simpson to help himself, and sat himself down to read a book

which he took from his pocket. After a little whire he arose,
put his articles into his pack, strapped it on his back, saying ;
“ @ood-by, Mr. Simpson? any thing in my lire to accommo- —
‘data your customers is always at your service. Yvu’ve taken
bat littie to: Gay—only a few ribbons, pins and needles, Not
nena,” gilded he, on. Simpson’s offering to pay him for the
2 Ng US” SOME aL ie re

-«HRAAC IN SHAROH OF A WIFE

 

articles. “Six months, or when I go East, will be time “

— encugh.”

Job trudged off, and Mr. Simpson wont to the desk th bia :

little back room to enter the articles purchased of Job Terry
in his daybook. SRS ¥-

z

Forster rode from Simpson’s store straight to his own house,

: “expecting to find young Carter there. He found him and held
- @long conversation with him, the subject of which may be

CMe Rete

  

inferred from some expressions of Carter after Forster went

out, and from succeeding events, Isaac retired to his own |

chamber, and locked the door—his invariable practice.

Carter, who was even thgn slightly intoxicated, muttered — -

to himself, “T’ll cane that pack-ridden rascal. I pass coun-
terfeit money knowingly. Forster’s right—I must put a stop

to such insolence. He’s a pretty fellow, that lying peddler, _

upon my word! He'll place my character in its true light,

will he? Tl see him as he comes down the road, that’s —

arranged ; and so now to bed, and a good comfortable snooze
I'l} have, after two nights’ loss of sleep at little loo and all
fours.” e

} CHAPTER IX.
A PROPOSAL, AN ARREST, AND A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE

Tn day after that on which Job Terry called at Simpson’s

store, Isaac Forster, according to expressed determination,

went to Mr. Allen’s in order to make his proposals to Mattie. —
-* He arrived there about eleven o’clock, dressed aud equipped _
after the most approved fashion of gentlemen in search*of a —
wife. He was in high spirits, and confident of success. Miss*

h

Allen was not taken unawares. What young lady ever is, if — <

the gentleman acts as gentlemen should who are in lovet |

The premonitory symptoms are as evident to them as are

those of any other eruptive disease about to break out to q :

Philadelphia doctor. er
‘The young lady was composed and acted without constraint,

The lover was equally composed and acted as if engaged in

1
ae ce eae am pen ecm ae Be parma eee LY ae Coke Oe a AF ge ee
te; t : ma nes tees ee ae . as
x eins : ae

 
 

any ordinary Slee transaction covhio de: manaed only © —
~ little form to consummate it. He began by asserting that Miss
Allen could not be ignorant of the relations which he sus: ?
tained to her father, assuming that, in view of his (Mr. Allen’s\ _
visibly failing health it was but a simple duty for him (Mr
Forster) to sustain a closer relation than a mere formal agency
gould give him. Such a position he would sustain, if for no«
other reason than to care for Miss Allen in event of her —
parent’s decease.
The man of business had proceeded thus far, when Mattia
- arose, her eyes suffused in tears, but every lineament of her
face expressive of anger. ;
_ “ Thave given you no excuse, Mr. Forster, for this interview,” |
she said, with cold deliberation. “I am equally astonished
and indignant at your proposal, I can sustain no relations
whatever with you; and, after this presumption on your part,
T am sure my dear father will cease to give you any excuse
for ever calling at’ his house.” Saying this, she swept from
,. the room. Forster had risen in his astonishment. His equa- -
~nimity was disturbed—his selflove wounded —his hatred _
aroused.
“You will repent of this, young woman!” she heard him
hiss, as the door shut him in.
For half an hour he sat down in the room. Mr, Allen was
in his library. If his daughter had gone to him and confided -
the fact of the interview, the old gentleman would soon be in,
doubtless, to order the agent from the house. If he did not
appear, then he (Forster) would not leave the premises except
at his leisure. Taking a newspaper from the mantel he passed
out to the porch and seated himself there to observe while he
seemed absorbed in “ reading the news.”
The family at New Hope had but few visitors; among hea
were Mr. John Glover and his sister Mary, the son and daugh-
_ fer of ons of the earliest settlers on the Great Kanawha, They —
“ were plain, good people, and Mary Glover was an interesting
sweet girl, with a pretty face, art’ess manners, and an excele
lent heart. She loved Mattie Allen exceedingly, In the ©
words of her brother John, she thought Miss Mattie the finest
thing in the whole world. Mattie recij rocated the affection,
oon after dinner they came over to Mr Allen’s. Mattie and

x

‘3
   

oo TERRY AND eae PACK. Roe
Mary ran as ‘the chamber of the biaie ie renulees cee
until Uncle Tom announced the arrival of Job Terry, the
peddler. Then they immediately repaired to the sitting-room,
- where John Q:over joined them, as well as Mr. Allen. Job |
came up on the porch, when Mr. Allen addressed him, saying :
“Mr, Terry, Iam sorry I have not the change I owe yOu
T have attempted to procure it in the neighborhood, but
sould not get it, and I expect that all my daughter has_ you.
will get to-day. You are going down the river, I suppose, and —
you. must call _ your return, when I hope I shall ners it
veady for you.” ;
“Tt makes no odds in the world, sir,” replied Job. “1 ad “a
not call for that, but to see you all, and to sell the young
folks something if I can, or you, sir, if you want any ping,
’ Pve got.”
Whereupon a pleasant scene followed of examining the
pack, discussing styles and making up the many little wants
of a lady’s work-basket and boudoir. When the young ladies
had finished their purchases, Mattie handed Job an old English.
guinea in payment. He-looked at it closely, and Be it,
on the tip of his little finger. “7
“A good English piece,” said he; “such yellow-boys are
scarce out here—of good weight. I should know it among a
thousand from this mark on the edge,” and he handed it to —
_ John Glover, who examined it casually, as also did his sister, —
. The purchases amounted to twenty-two shillings. Job
returned change for the guinea, then busied himself in gath-
ering and packing his goods which were strewn over the
floor in pretty confusion. wed hia
Forster, who was sitting in the porch, saw every pre that
.passed, and heard every word, although he seemed to. ‘be se
occupied in reading the newspaper. Mr. Glover and his sister
took leave of Mattie, and bidding Mr. Forster. good-evening —
as they passed through the porch, mounted their horses and’
“pode away. Mr. Forster had ordered his horse to be brought
gut, but he still seemed to be poring over the newspaper, —
Whon Mattie saw Job preparing to fasten his pack on hig
back, she invited him to stay all night; but he declined her ie
Invitation, and just as twilight set in he bade ber farewell. and
 feparted) Mr, Allen met him in the yard, They went in.

  

ae

 

 
RE a eee “TH ALIENS.

ae Higeéloar at the back dais of Mr. Allen's vom. ‘Showy. aftet i

the peddier went his way.
Mattie returned to her chamber with her little panihidee
aes Mr. Allen came into the sitting-room, approached the chimes

ney-piece, and then went out again at the back door of hig

room. ‘Forster immediately rose from his seat, entered the
room, laid the newspaper on the mantelpiece, and departed,
Fhe relation of these minute circumstances may appear tedi
ous, but the events which followed them render it necessary

. to make them known.

The next morning Mr. Allen was quite unwell, and did not
get up to breakfast. While Mattie was arranging the things

on the breakfast-table, she saw old Tom in earnest conversa-
tion with a man on horseback at the gate, who immediately _

after rode away at full gallop. Thomas ran to the house,

exhibiting signs of amazement and sorrow, rushed into the —

room where his young mistress was, and exclaimed :

“Oh Lor’! Missus, somebody has gone kil’d -Massa Jol

“Terry, de peddler. He's layin’ in de road, dat man says, jist

below our fence, stone dead. He’s'a ridin’ round collectin’ —

de neighbors for to hab a rinquest on de body. I told him

ft on. ”

“Mattie was very much shocked at this hcrrible news,
which was true. She trembled excessively, and felt a strange
fear creeping over her. As soon as she recovered strength to
walk she hastened to her father’s chamber, and communicated
to him the sad intelligence. He expressed great astonishment
and sorrow, and seemed anxious to get up, but his daughter
prevailed on him to remain in bed, for she saw, from his.
looks, that he was feverish, and had’ spent a relia night.
he offered to bring him something to eat or drink, but he

refused to taste any thing, and Tom took awzy the untouched E

food fro:n the breakfast- table.
In a very short time several men were seen passing swe
the road, and directly afterward a man came up the road,
_ stopped at the gate, and inquired for Mr. Allen. Tom told
him his master was sick in bed, and if he wanted to see him,
he might get down and go into the house. The man seemed
nt a loss what to do; he, however after a little time, rode

+ —

bat riots ; sic

 

¢

that my Massa was onwell, and hadn’t got up, so he rode
0 Ty Sg OS ee

    

* ey
. a.

se ia = MR, ALLEN’S ARREST.

    

Se cai saying, “ If he’s sick in. bed, he can’t § serve on the
fury. ”
Tom returne:? to the house, went to Mr. Allen's 8 room, aad
‘reported to his master and Mattie what the man said. Mr.
Allen got up and dressed, and ordered his horse, with the,
intention of riding to the place where he supposed the coro- —
ter’s inquest was assembling ; but Mattie entreated him no -
~ > go, saying they could certainly find persons whose health
would permit them to perform the duties of jurymen without
the danger of being made ill; that he was very weak and |
feverish, and in no condition to exercise his mind or body in —
g0 serious a public service. He yielded to her entreaties, and
lay down again on his bed till about two or three 9 ‘clock in
the afternoon, when, feeling better, he walked into the porch —
and sat down. He was scarcely scated, when four men rode
up to the gate, alighted from their horses, entered the yard- a
— gate, and walked up to the porch.
“ Walk in, gentlemen,” said Mr. Allen, “ and take seats.” .
ee They entered the porch, but remained standing, and one :
of them stepped - to Mr. Allen, and handing him ® paper,
said :
“Tt is my disagreeable duty, sir, to arrest you, at the suit
of the commonwealth, for the murder of Job Terry.”
“Me!” said Mr. Allen; “me/ for the murder of Job>
Terry ?” ‘
“Yes, sir,” repeated the eitions: “read the ramets » Mr
Allen sent the paper. “™ Here’s another, sir; a seareh-war-
rant, also.” pee
Mr. Allen handed the man his keys, pad SONG, v5 2 sre peat gira ee
“Perform your duty, sir.’ Bait
The officer and another man went into Mr. Allen’s ete
der, and examined the contents of his desk, while the two
other men remained with Mr. Allen in the-porch. The offi- -
scr soon returned, and his melancholy looks—for he-was a
 Yenevolent, kind-hearted man—indicated but too plainly that.
he had found what the warrant directed him to search for,
und that the probability of Mr. Allen’s guilt was confirmed,
Stunned and shocked as he was, Mr. Allen retained hin
_ pelf-possession, He requested to be permitted to see hid
daughter and servants. The officer told him he wae very .

~

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oy

 
‘ Beh Ss “?, ve &: te : ¥ x ss od 2G, Oo ie Oe et gle ae aa
4 EE ALLEN, ee ae
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— gorry that ‘nis duty forced him to keep him im his custe 7)
and that he could not permit him to leave his presence or ga
out of his sight, but that he would either have them sent for
or would accompany him to where they were. Mr. Allen
preferred the latter, and they went to Mattie’s chamber _
| hey fourd her reading, profoundly ignorant of what had _
“fust taken place. Her father broke the matter to his
daughter in the most gentle terms that the nature of the case —
admitted. ‘ee
We shal] not attempt to describe the scene that followed; —
we must leave it to the imagination of our readers. No ade- a
‘quate idea can be formed of the astonishment, horror and
poignant distress that overwhelmed her. When the first —
tide of the torrent of mingled emotions began to subside, she —
threw herself on her father’s neck, exclaiming, amid her ago- ee
nizing sobs + ; agoe
“ Never, never, my father! they shall not tear you from— z
me. Ob! sir, he is not guilly—no, no, he never harbored the :
thought of a crime in his life. Oh! sir, believe .me, he is
innocent—he ¢s innocent; do not—do not carry him away,
He is ill—very ill—you will kill him.”
Her bosom heaved with fearful violence, and she gasped
for every breath which she drew. Thomas heard her —
sobs, and he and Charlotte, the hired woman, came to the —
door. soe
“ What de matter, massa, wid Miss Mattie ?”
“Nothing but a mistake, Thonias. Saddle my horse; I.
have to leave her only for a short time, to .satisfy the
magistrate that I had nothing to do with the death of Job
Terry.” nd, ee
“ Who said you did, messa? Dat man dat says so ain’t fit —
tin’ to live—de trufe ain’t m him. Don’t you mind ’em, Misa
Mattie; dey ain’t gwine to hurt a hair ob his head. Its all
a lie, and God knows it—dat he does.” . ;
“Thomas,” said his master, “bring my horse to the gate,
and take another and ride quickly to Mr. Glover’s, and pre.
sent my compliments to’ Mr. John Glover and Miss Mary, and fe
request them to come over immediately and stay with my
daughter till my return.” os cobeek
“ Yes, gar.’ said Thomas. fos

 

Boy eet he
Sees ‘THE Inquest.

 
   

. “Father,” said Mattie, “I must. go with you; Ts dali ae
wee you again. You will be ill, sir, very ill. Ok! sir, let
him stay here, and ir it be necessary, stay with him. RS fe
you will not leave me, will you?”
“My daughter, the law must be obeyed. Let us trast in =
the Supreme Lawgiver of the universe. My dearest child, ;
be composed; I shall be with you again in a few hours,
Your brother may arrive in my absence—at furthest by tee =
_ morrow; stay here to receive him—to inform him of what |
has happened ; and if I should not return to-night, am can 4
accompany him te where I may be.” a
Mr, Allen carefully avoided asing the word prison; he —
knew that word would determine her to go with him. After
,80me time he tore himself from the arms of his child
called Charlotte, the stewardess, gave her a few brief diree
tions, and departed with the officers of the law. Oh! how —
his heart bled for the sufferings of that daughter. He gave
noc a thought to his own situation. The idea of danger to
his, own life was not entertained for one moment. He knew
uothing of the extraordinary chain of events which induced
the coroner’s jury to find him guilty of the murder of the ;
peddler, and that officer to issue a warrant for his apprehea-
sion. He imagined that a mere vague suspicion, growing out
of the circumstances of the peddler’s having been at hig
house late in the evening before, and of his body being found
ucar his place of residence, was the only ground of their
action, In this he was greatly mistaken, as a brief relation
of the circumstanees of the inquest will show.
Two men, riding early in the saorning after the day that
the peddler left Mr. Allen’s, up the road to Simpson’s store,
discovered the body of the peddler lying in the edge of tha
road, with his pack fastened on his back. They dismounted,
and found that the man was dead. One of them agreed to ©
stay near the body while the other should give the alarm t¢
the neighbors, a number of whom were soon collected on tha
ground, and the coroner was sent for, whom the messenger
met nof, a mile from the place. A jury was empaneled. and
Bworn, and they proceeded to examine the body. It wag ie
 gnown by every one of the jurors to be the bedy of Joh
Terry. A slight contusion was fst cbserved on the side ot

A

 
ee en THE “ALLENS — eS orl

the head, wiht: the docs declited: sone not have ‘blind

the death of the man. On stripping off the clothes, twas oe

wounds on the left side were seen... The doctor examiued

and probed them, and declared. the wounds to have caused ae

death.

While the examination of the body was going on, persona

were walking around in all directions, to see if any discove-

ries connected with the death of the man could bemade. At
gome distance from the body, down by the river and behind a—
rock, a white cambric handkerchief was found sticking to a —

brier, as if the brier had caught in it while sticking out of the
pocket of some one, and had pulled it out. On the handker-
chief were stains of blood. It was marked on the corner, Hd,
Allen, No. '7; at the same place, concealed beneath a stone and
covered with loose earth, a dirk or stiletto was discovered. It
was a beautiful and costly instrument, was very bloody, and
had the initials # A. on the handle. The doctor inserted it

- into the wounds, and it was plain to every one of the jury —
that the mortal wounds were inflicted with that dirk. Two

of the jurors asserted that they had seen that instrument on

the chimney-piece at Mr. Allen’s, and Forster deposed that

he had seen it there afew minutes only before the peddler left
Mr. Allen’s house the evening before; that he saw Mr, Allen
go to the chimney-piece .and take something bright from it,
which he supposed, at the time, to be his spectacles; but

going there shortly afterward to lay away a newspaper he had

  
 

ara

been reading, the dirk was not there, and Mr. Allen did not _ :

return to the house while he remained there, which was only
for a few minutes after he placed the newspaper on the chim-
ney-piece. It was strange, very, he said, but he coula not
believe it possible that such a gentleman as Mr. Allen would
kill a man for his money. The jury whispered and looked
very grave.

“Does any one know whether the peddler had any Z

goney ?” inquired a juror.

“ John Glover and Miss Allen yaid him money yesterday,”
vaid Forster.

His pack and person were okantane and no money waa

found. Isaac stated that he now recollecte’ Miss Allen paid 5 ck

; - ie an English guinca, which Mr’ Johu Glover and

 
 

 

_ OIROUMSTANTIAL avmpescn

| bis dvtor viii as a an of curiosity, and siesta Gould

- adentify if it were found. For this the search-warrant was

issued. Mr. Simpson said that Mr. Allen told him that morn-_
ing that he had no change, and wanted to get some to pay the |
peddler. The jury brought in a verdict of murder against

Edward Allen. The coroner issued bis warrant’ for his —

_ apprehension, and a search-warrant for the guinea was issued —
- by a magistrate who was present at the inquest. The guinea —
deaersuEd; with other specie not se was found in Mr.
Allen’s desk by the sheriff.

The magistrate before whom’ Mi. Allen was. carried for ,

examination committed him to jail, and the examining court,

a few days after, sent him on for trial to the jail of the Supe-

rior Court of the district. Conscious of his innocence, he now

 
  
  

\
c

was fully aware of the imminent peril in which his life was
placed by the strong chain of circumstantial evidence that was

presented before the committing magistrate. He saw no
probability of escape from the danger that menaced him but
from the voluntary confession of the real assassin; whoever
he might be—a thing most improbable, and not to be expected.
_ The suspicion of some black conspiracy against him flashed
across his mind. His own dirk had been used, and the hand-

kerchief which he knew had been in his pocket that evening $
was found near the dirk, where he had not been during the—

day. He knew that he could not have lost it out of his own
yard. None but John Glover, Isaac Forster, or the peddler |

himself could have come into the possession of the dirk and _

handkerchief. Miss Glover, the females of his own family,
and Uncle Tom, he could not entertain the slightest suspicion

against. He believed it utterly improbable, too, that John — S

Glover, so well disposed, open-hearted, and fidenaly: to his

- family and himself, could be concerned in so foul'a crime.

His suspicions settled down on Isaac Forster. But he was
entirely at a loss to conjecture any adequate motive which that
man could have for the commission of such crimes againrs —
himself. His first strong prejudices (shall we call them 3
excited by Ben Bramble had been nearly effaced by the”kind —
_and friendly conduct of Forster. Could it be possible that all —
these seemingly kind actions had been preconcerted parts of a—
premeditated plan of treacherous villainy? Conld it sae

we

~ &

 
Efe 38 Bese ie ran SRG S338

‘ possibiad that Bun Bra mule 8 Senignte of Forster's siatielsie we
: correct ?. That this waltay, respected, popular, industrioue
man was a villain of the deepest dye—a fiend in human form?
But what possible motive could urge him to the commission
of such horrible crimes? What could he gain by them? What
end would be gained, what passion gratified? This was a —
taystery which Mr. Allen could not fathom ; a labyrinth out
of which he had no clew to guide him.

After the departure of her father with the officers of the law,
Battie threw herself on her knees, and poured out her heart in
fervent supplications to the God of all mercies. With what —
earnest. entreaty, with what pathetic words did she address
His throne of grace! With what powerful appeals did she
- approach the cross of her bleeding Savior, and cry for mercy
—mercy to her father, her unhappy and oppressed, but inno-
cent father, and his enemies, who imagined evil against him,
‘and the murderers of Job Terry!

She arose from her knees, and laid herself down.on her bed. -
There she remained till the dusk of the evening, when she was
roused from a state of dozy stupor by Uncle Tom’s voice at
the door of her chamber, He said s

“ Massa John Glover an’ Miss Mary ain’t at home; but de
ole gemman give his compliments, an’ say he will send ’um
up tirecly dey cum home to-morrow.”

“Very well, Uncle Tom, it makes no odds ; you and Char-
lotte are with me, and I’m not afraid with you in iny father’s
house.”

Mattie arose, put on her bonnet, and walked down to the
river.in front of the house. The distance was not more than
a hundred paces. She crossed the road running by the yard
gate, and parallel to the river. The smooth, shady bank of
the river was her favorite promenade; scarcely an evening
passed in which she might not be seen walking there, either
with a book or flowers in her hand, Though it was getting
rather dark to read, the. Bible which. she had in her hand
when she lay down was still pressed to her bosom ag sh
walked along.

- _ Uncle Tom busied himself about the supper-table, sane
tn induce her to eat something. When his preparations were —
concluded, he went out through the gate to call hor te supper

 

1
 

;
i

‘it.

 

 

‘But on ‘sib toward the a he icons: see ieee! fda
‘He called, but she did not answer. He then walked | oriskly,

barely light enough to distinguish small objects a few yarde
off. He had searcely reached the bank when he saw one of —
her shoes near the edge of the water on the steep inclined
“lane, and above it the impression of haying slipped down —

“om the top of the bank; and just below, her bonnet was

dangling in the water, caught by the pliant branches of a a

willow drooping over the stream where it was at least ten ae
desp.

the current, he sought to find her in the deep water under and
around the bonnet; at last, quite exhausted, he with diffleulty
reached the bank, anit crawled up it with the bonnet in his

nand. As soon as he had recovered breath to speak, he began

to utter loud cries. Charlotte heard him, and ran down to—
Where he was; and Mr. Simpson, who was riding down the

road, galloped to the spot. He saw at once, on getting down, ~ a :

‘the wet bonnet and the shoe, and the few incoherent and |
interrupted words of the afflicted old man told the melancholy

_ tale. Again this faithful servant threw himself into the water, =
and dived down. He came up so exhausted that Mr, od

“son with difficulty drew him up on the bank when he meen

near this place.”
Charlotte and Mr. Simpson could hardly pet him tc. the

' house, His lamentations manifested his great. angnish- of

heart. They placed him on the steps of the porch, where 2¢

' gat wringing bis hands and weeping aloud. Suddenly he 1 ya

to his feet, as if recollecting something, and cried nee Si ee
“Y must go to massa. Oh, I must go to massa. '

_ “Qo,” said Mr. Simpson, with a tone of authority, § = you ; 2
Shall: do no such thing, Thomas. You must stay here and—

a care of his house and property till he returns, or your

The old man uttered a loud ery, and plunged into the water.
- Again and again rising to the surface, and. struggling against —

 
  

down to the bank. The river was still full and muddy, Som Se
recent rains in the mountains; but as the stream had fallen |
- -peveral feet, the margin was soft and slippery. There was —

x
i

 

" It’s all in vain, Uncle Tom,” said he; “ this swift water
bas carried her body far away. It will never be. seen —_ Ny

  
.

 

ee
he
Bigs

young nihaee: Harry. a am going where your master is, and

_ will let him know all that has happened. God bless the poor —

gentleman, even if he were guilty, which I don’t believe; the _
law will never do execution ca him—the death of his daugh-

ter will kill him. Thomas, you must stay here; and the |

moment Master Hasey arrives, you must send him to hia
father.” :
Mr. Simpscn then took Charlotte aside, and charged net nut

4a leave the old man out of her sight till his grief abated, and
tc find something constantly for him to do. He then gave —

ber some general instructions about the care of the property,

_ advising her to get one of the hired men, in the morning, to —

go and ask old Mr. Glover to come over to see Uncle Tom,
and to advise him what was best to be done. Mr, Simpson
then rode away. .
The next day, Mr. Allen, in prison, received the intelligence
of the sad fate of his daughter, We dare not intrude on the —
sorrows of his soul, much less shall we attempt to say how —

-@eep and dreadful they were. What he feit and what he

suffered then can be knowm only to the Searcher of all
hearts.
The report of the murder of Job Terry, the arrest of Mr.

-Allen, and of the death of his daughter, spread all over the

country; and the opinions of the people were as much divided
as to his guilt or innocence (so strong was ‘the evidence
against him, and so favorable the sentiments of the people in
regard to his character) as they were about the remote cause
of his daughter’s death, Most persons attributed it to acci-
dent, but not a few to a design, by suicide, to end her sorrow
for her father’s fate. This was a more favorable construction _
than that she had committed the act to avoid the shame of hig
condemnation, to which others did not hesitate to attribute it.
Others put a still more crue! construction on it—that she had
drowned herself to avoid the necessity of giving evidence ,
against her father. 3
All these surmises reached his ears. However mt od he ;

_ was afflicted and overwhelmed by his own position and the

amtelligence of his daughter’s death, he entertained nota doubt,
for one moment, as to its cause or manner. He felt assured
that it was purely peace and covsidered any othe ee

 
 

m + ‘ea e. ’ .
| ARRIVAL a ‘wn. ATLOR’s,

es  faiecannies an enue and cruel indipnitys to her memory. “He

 

weight of woes.

CHAPTER X.
HARRY ALLEN’ 8 EXPERIENCES.

WE left Harty Allen in company with Captain Richard
Terrell, at the mouth of Big Sandy. After leaving the tavern
at that place, they passed through the rough, hilly country, to

Little Sandy, and thence to Tigert’s creek, a very uninvitirg
section of the new State, except to mineralogists, geologists

and botanists. Onward they traveled to the waters of Lick-—
ing ‘river, seeing very little change in the general aspect of

the country, at that time a continuous forest, unbroken except _
_ by clearings of an acre or two surrounding log-cabins few
‘and far between. Sandstone, iron ore, indications of coal and

' galt, presented themselves to their eyes. Mr. Terrell expati+
‘ated with ail his enthusiastic eloquence on the prospective
value of these elements of wealth, utility and convenience ;
‘but Harry began to despair of finding in Kentucky the Ei
Dorado of Eastern emigrants.

was spared the pang that even a doubt on that subject would — ; :
have added to a heart already overburdened mae its a. =

_

oa

“ Have patience, my dear young friend,” Mr. Terrell outle a

- say to him, when giving utterance to his feclings of disap
- pointment. “These hills and rocks are but the bone and ©
~- ginew of the State ; we shall soon see, to your admiration and —
"delight, the<flesti’ and blood, the bloom and toute of de
_ ginia’s eldest and fairest daughter.”
' After passing Mud Lick, where there is as great a variety
of mineral waters: as at any other spot upon the globe, the
appearance of the country began to char ge. They were ¢n
-— the edge of the great basin of the dark and blootly grouud. —

 

 

  

 

eS unsurpassed in fertility of soil and beauty of surface by-any —
country in America, perhaps in the world. They stopped at |
te house of Mr. Hubbard Taylor, the friend of Mr. —

  

The next dav’s ride brought them into the Elk-horn paradise _
 

ee p , roe  - HE ALLENS rapt

an site settler im Ker tucky from the ola Sinaia a , gem *
- tleman “who derived the patent of his honors from God
Harry was in raptures with the country, and delighted with

_ the frank reception which they received from their kind and
_ hospitable host.

“Now, sir,” said Mi Terrell, after supper, “ this young Zs a

- gentleman, friend Taylor, is the son of a friend of mine, whe |
has come out to this country to ascertain the value of hig”
father’s lands, and to see them. From the only information
received about them, they are supposed to be London surveys, —
not worth a stiver, which I take to be all a mistake, or some. |
thing worse, You know the character of lands in this sec.
tion well, no man better, and can give him the information
— desired.”
“ What surveys are they?” said Mr. Taylor; “I know of —
~ none in this neighborhood in the name of Allen. Where de.
they lie?”

“ Permit me, sir,” said Harry, “ to show you the papers, for

_ [know so little of such matters, that I might mislead you

by verbal statements ;” and he took out and handed a bundle
of papers to Mr. Taylor, who, after casting his eyes over
several of them, which he selected by the labeis on them,
said :

“Hoho! They are the lands, I see, lately held’ by Smith :
and Bird, Buchanan and Alexander ; a Mr.—let me see—Fors-
ter, yes, that is his name, I think, was their anene sharp |
fellow, but a rascal, I believe.”

“That is the name of the man, sir,” said Harry, “ froin
whom we have derived our only lnfopmnar in relation to
these lands.”

“Well, what does he say of them ?” iid Mr. Taylor.

“ Why, sir, he has represented them as almost valueless,
worth nothing, and he pays my father a forty-dollar horse
and the taxes for the rent of them and other lands be-
gides.”” nee
“Pray, young gentleman,” said Mr. Taylor, “if it m no -—
secret, what did your father give for these lands ?” tee

“ Oh, sir,” said Harry, “it is no secret; my father very. y :

 amwillingly became the owner of these lands; they were tha
me property ens to him by those means of me

 
- FORSTER’S: CHARACTER DEPICTED.

 

pitheiiies in repayment of siecigs thosand Jolla whica
he had paid as an indorser for them.” __ :
“Sixty thousand dollars, young man; fing, it’s. the Se
bargain your father ever made. Those parts of your father’s es :
- lands that I have often seen, and am well acquainted with,
im Bourbon and Fayette alone, are worth doubiey thee
money.” 2
‘What a load was taken from the heart of Harry !

“And Forster pays what,” continued Mr. Ray lary “for. the

 

 

‘yearly rental, did you say ?”

“A forty-dollar horse and the taxes. But uid leat is ‘out,
 th’s fall. He has repeatedly applied to my father to renew
45, and to continue him as the agent; but he has declined the
_ propositions of Mr. Forster, in consequence, I believe, of |
some hints given him by an honest, shrewd hunter in our
neighborhood, formerly a soldier under the command of Cap.
tain Templeman.” :
‘*Ben Bramble, I guess,” said Mr. Taylor, “ who ‘saved.
_ Templeman’s life; as brave, honest and kind-hearted a mn ;
as any west of the Alleghany,” Es
“Or anywhere else,” udded Mr. Terrell. “I know the 8
man well; he was once with Foreter in this country, carrying
the chain for him; the most dauntless, intrepid, active
hunter I ever knew; as true as steel, and as tender-hearted ag _
/a@ woman. What he says of his own knowledge may always —
- be relied upon as certainly true; my life on the nney: ote
- that man, place him where you will.”
~ “Ts: it possible,” inquired Harry, “that Forster can ‘know |

 

 

: the value of these lands ?” ne :

“Know!” answered Mr. Taylor; “ why, he icine aS well.
- as I do—better. He’s been on them twenty times; has_
- tenants on ee a pay him high rents in horses, cattle,
¢orn and money.”

“Now I know Mr. Isaac Forster, ” said Harry, soleninly,
_ “to be an unmitigated scoundrel.”

© @ome, come,” said Mr. Terrell, who was lying on- “hfe
- back on the floor, making the children, who were ee
_ pver bim, cry by the relation of pathetic anecdotes, of the —

dangers, conflicts, hairbreadth escapes, and deaths uf men, — oe ;
women and children during the early settlements of the a

7

 

\

 
 

GG Sree aes

Mr. Allen, don’t abuse our men of business in the Weutt. Yea

use the wrong terms, sit—hypocrite, dishonest, scoundrel-~ —
fy! fy! Mr. Forster is only what is termed in the Wet a
smart min, a sharp fellow, a keen man of business. He hag
_ only kept the merchants, whose agent he was, and your
father, whose agent he wished to be, in ignorance, in order to —

feather his own nest—quite a common affair. Why, friend Tay-
jor, I should never have known the value of the Diamond
island if I aes not seen it with my own eyes.” -

-“ But, sir,” said Harry, “Mr. Forster was their agent an!

attorney, and, consequently, bound by all the laws of honor

and honesty, not only to report truly to his employers, but &

act in good faith toward them—to promote their interests.” —
“ Pooh ! my dear sir,” said. Mr. Terrell, “ that ‘ consequently

. of yours is very bad logic—a downright power of attorney

non-sequiiur. What have the laws of honor to do with the
land laws, or the laws of trade either? One would suppose,
to hear you talk, that you had been asleep for the last twenty
years, and had just waked up, and never had heard of Ken-
tucky land-speculators, oe attorneys, e id omne ganas:
down toa horse-jockey.”

“Come, now, Dick Terrell,” said Mr. Taylor, “ don’t try to
make this young man: believe that there’s no such thing as
honor and honesty in the West. We have rascals out, here,
Mr. Allen, as there are everywhere. The condition of our
country has caused many of them to flock to it, and they
have corrupted others, so that common prudence requires a
“man to have his wits about him in making bargains; to be on
his guard in his business transactions, especially in ascertain.
Ang titles to property before he buys it. But this a prudent
~ man ought to do in every country. We are not all knaves,

and hypocrites, and swendlers, and. treacherous agents, Mr - =

Allen; though this fellow Forster, of whom [ never had
8 favorable ——_ may be, and, I incline to think, ia
ong,”

“T must write to my father immediately,” said Harry,

© Wait,” said Mr. Taylor, “ till you see at least some of the .

\

 

-— Westoru country, Of these he had a greatur store sf the
most authentic in his retentive memory, and of the most —
- marvelous, than any other man of his day. “Come, come,

¥

 
   

SEs vaso, OF THE ESTATE,

lands with your own eyes, Mr, ras I will ‘i you, i
some of them to-morrow in this county and in Bourbon, it
you chpose.”

“sank you, sir,” bald Harry ; “ how fortunate that Ma

_ Terrel! has brought me to your house! I will, certainly, and

mest gladly take advantage of your kind offer to show ms ie

the larids.”

They now retired to their chambers, ee Mr. Terrell wa =

asleep in a short time. But Harry could not coax or badger

himself to sleep. He twisted and fidgeted, and turned over

twenty times. He would draw up his feet and lay his hands _
under his head, and try to lie still, That would not last a
minute. He then began to count, one—two—three, in a most
monotonous tone; but the monotony was only on his tongue,
not in his heart. That was beating strongly with varied
emotions, all excited by a few words of Mr. Taylor: “ Sioa
thousand dollars, young man; why, ws the best bargain cai
father ever made,”

Oh, what waking dreams prevented his repose till late in

the small-hours of the night! He was, however, up early, in
the morning, and after breakfast, accompanied by Mr. Terrell,
and conducted by Mr. Taylor, through the woods and planta

tions, he had the satisfaction of seeing with his own eyes four —
tracts of his father’s land, the smallest containing fourteen.

oa oF

   
 

“d

hundred and fifty acres, and all of them as fine land as anyin

Kentucky. They found the tenants on the clearings pro- -
foundly ignorant of the ownership, and every thing else about

“ these cl arins,” except that Mr. Isaac Forster was the agent, ie

er owner, they did not know or care which.

Delighted with what he saw, Harry immediately, on. their
return to Mr, Taylor’s late in the evening, wrote to his father.
The next day Mr. Taylor accompanied them to Lexington. |
There’ and in that neighborhood, Mr. Terrell and Harry
remained several days. Settled principally by gentlemen from :

_ the Old Dominion, ine beautiful country aro, and the town was

already the seat of elegant hospitality and liberal kindness, —

The people w2re Virginians in their principles, manners, habits,
and customs But the circumstances in which they had been
Placed gave them a boldness and energy, a reckless daring

and readiness of resource, which slumbered now in the peaceful
ae 2
 

-@ bend in the Kentucky River, surrounded by wooded. hills,

tacky.

tis way home, he learned that a man calling himself Charles —

 

- quiet habitations east of the Grice The Indians had
roused them up, and kept them wide awalre in the breasts eo

all those who sought their fortunes or fixed their residences —

west of the Alleghany Mountains.

They passed on to Frankfort, situated in a deep hollow on :

and there spent’a delightful day or two. a
From Frankfort they passed on to Louisville—thence *o —
Beargrass valley, where Mr. Terrell conducted Harry to ses _

nis father’s lands in that neighborhood, which he found to be _
exceedingly valuable. When, at length, Harry turned hia
‘horse’s head homeward, it was with feelings of gratitude and

respect, and a lively sense of the generous hospitality of the’
many friends and acquaintances which he had made in Ken-

In passing’ through Louisville on his return, he ‘met with a

Mr. Anderson, a land-agent of extensive business and aecurate _

information, who gave him all the remaining facts which he —

needed in relation to those tracts of his father’s land in Ken-

tucky which he had not seen; and through his agency he sold |
& small slip of land in hpi for a considerable sum, all

os paid in gold.

It was on the fourth day of July, that Harry Allen, elate —
with joy, the bearer of glad tidings, approached New Hope, —

on the Great Kanawha, after a long day’s ride. He bad seen ©

nothing of Mr. James Dixon, the reason ef which may be as —
well told now. That worthy bad trailed him and Mr. Terreli _
to Lexington; there he learned that they had gone to Louis-

ville: He had been delayed by false intelligence received at

the Mud Lick that two gentlemen, answering the description
of these gentlemen, had gone down Licking toward Newport; —
and {knowing that Slocus intended to go in that direction, he

was thrown off their track, and did not arrive at Lexington
un they had left. .

On Harry’s retu¥n from Mr. Terrell’s toward Lexington on

 
     
 
 

Lamb was killed the day before in riding a quarter race near —
tae town. His horse ran out of the course, and fractured hia a
ekull against a tree. From papers found in his pocket-book, —
it wea probable that his real name was James Dison, si that 4
nate we x : as i

“ARRY’S RETURN.

iP sb f ‘ * i ier a
fe was rather more of a wolf than alamb. From the descrip. —
tion of his person given by these gentlemen, Harry had no
doubt that it was Dixon, whom oe knew as a great horse- _
dealer and jockey. But he was little aware how much | ie
- was indebted to the sugar-tree that terrainated the mortal raca

Gf this man.
When Harry got within a mile or two of his father’s feu
he gaid, te himself :

 

“This is the glorious day on ‘which the independence otf

my country was declared, and this shall be the day on whick

the restoration of my father to independence shall be declared. -

What a pleasing coincidence—and my eister too. Ah! Vic-—

tor, you will obtain a jewel of price ix that girl sister mine!
She deserves the best and bravest in the land. And Helen,

too—my own dear Helen. Get up, my good horse Caligula,

we don’t go fast enough. I never wished for wings so much

in all my life.” :
é e had two thousand dollars, all in good gold, in his gad-

dlebags, the purchase-money of tie slip of land sold in Ken-

tucky. He leaped from his horse, and seeing Uncle Tom

pitting on the steps of the porch, he ran forward and cried
out:
“How dye do, how d’ye do, Uncle Tom 2”
The old man returned no answer to his joyous greeting.
-“ Any.thing the matter, Thomas ?”

No answer but sobs and grasping his hand with a trempling

ead convulsive energy. ee
“ Good heavens ! what is the matter ?”

af ;

Still receiving no answer, he rushed past the old man into
the house. It was silent—all silent. Charlotte was sitting in

the doorway of the entry, her head hung down aad her fac

eoncealed in her hands. He trembled violently, and his hee é -

~~ beat fearfully.

“Tn Heaven’s name, Charlotte, what has happened ? Whe:

are my father and sister ?”

She raised her eyes, streaming with tears, and said :
“Oh! Master Harry, try to bear it.” : aie
“Bear what ?” he could scarcely utter. eis
- “Miss Mattie is—is drowned !”
Be staggered, and supperted himself against the doog.
   

re ‘THE ALLENS

“ And my wretched, heart-broken father, where—where ols
he?” ; on
OP wag grief for him, sir, that made her so weak, poor
thing, that she fell in the river.” :
\ “My father dead too? Merciful Heaven! Why could not ;
J a
. No, Master Harry, he’s not dead, but—”
“But wnat? Keep me not in this agony, Charlotte; sell
£i¢ all—tell me all.”
ha “Tn prison, sir, for—for killing the peddler, Job Terry.”

Harry started as if a bullet had struck him.

“For killing the peddler! It’s a base, infernal lie! My |
father never committed a crime in his life—never thought of
stich a thing. It’s a horrible, deep-laid conspiracy to take
his life.”

Most fortunate for the young man, at this moment, was
this turn of thought. The blood returned to his face; he
breathed more freely. He was nerved by indignation and
anger, and they neutralized the sharp agony of his grief. He
ceased to support himself by the door, and stood erect and —
firm, as he said:

“When did all this happen ?”

“Yesterday, sir; all happened yesterday.”

“When was the peddler killed ?”

“The night before, sir. He was here selling things to Misa
Mary Glover: and Miss Mattie, and went away just at dark.” fi
_ “Who else was here on that day, Charlotte?”

- “Nobody, sir, but Mr. John Glover and Mr. Forster.”

“ What time aia Forster go away ?”

“Directly after the peddler, sir.”

He strode to the front door and said:

“ Thomas, this is no time for giving way to sricf—to that

‘ef which God only knows how much we feel. Jron,
“homas, don we must be now. Bring me a fresh horse—the

- best op the land—instantly. My good old man, be quick—-be -
yuick. Help to save your master’s life from the ome that
would destroy him.”

“Thank God a Mity yoa come; only say, Massa Harry, a ‘
ord’s will be done.” aoe

‘‘4men, Thomas, amen Hurry—hurry, Uncle Tom.” ae

Bie

“49
}

 
Pe CE a Ga Ree. SNe gage! LO ee Neer Reem ee ee

Th BR la ag

   
 

BEN BRAMBLE’S GRIEF.
He threw the powder out of the pans of his pistolajexam:
ined them carefully, and primed them. The old man hadin >
- five minutes transferred his saddle and saddlebags to another
- horse, and Harry was in full-gallop to the county jail: We _ a
_ will not attempt to describe the interview between himand
his father. He was in the jail nearly all night, yet before — :
daybreak he was on the way to Eastern Virginia. He did — :
uot wait for the action of the examining court; both he aud :
~ als father foresaw its result. He went to Virginia to obtaix
- the evidence of his father’s high character, to employ the best
counsel, and to settle up all his father’s unfinished business
there. He as well as his father, was convinced that Isaac
- Forster was the prime, if not the only mover in this foul con- .
gpiracy. His dishonesty, hypocrisy and falsehood had been —
clearly demonstrated to them by the discoveries of Harry, in re-_
lation to the value of the lands; and his motives for conspiring:
against the \ife of Mr. Allen began to be clear as noonday.
hen Ben Bramble, who had been out of the neighbor-
- hood on @ hunting expedition, returned, and heard of the’
- death of Job Terry, the imprisonment of Mr, Allon, and the
- drowning of Mattie, he was struck with amazement, grief, and
- horror. He could neither eat, drink, nor bunt. He went:
‘mmediatuly to the prison, and was permitted to converse with
Mr. Allen. We do not know what passed between them, but _
‘from the prison he went to Mr. Allen’s house, and remained —
there. He was continually walking about without apparent s
_ end or object, or sitting down fondling his dog, young Katey
and when he would rise to resume his restless walks, the signs”
_ of his wo could be seen in many a tear that had fallen on the
head of the hound. The poor animal seemed to share ber
"master’s sorrow. She would often look up in his face, and
- Whine piteously; go hunting about in the rooms of the house | |
- for Mattie, and then come out and howl, or run whining to
-- her master, and back again into the house. Sometimes, after
~ sitting down and looking fixedly at the ground for fifteen’ or
_ twenty minutes, Ben Bramble would rise up suddenly, as if in
_ & great hurry, clinch his fists, swing his arms about, and walk.
- backward and forward as if, every thing depended upon*the
quickness of hie pace. Then he would suddenly stop, aud —
_ ‘Wautter to himself ca oe

 
a

—

eee

UPR: ahaa EN

“Ty's that devil’s doing, I know it is. Hell-cat! He'll git
t yit—he will—he shall—I say he shall. Thar’s a God in

heaven—yes, thar is, Thar’s lightnin’ thar. The wicked can’t

pervale forever. Tain’t in the natur of God’s mercy—I say —
it ain’t.” And then he would stamp his foot on the ground,

as if he was crushing the head of a snake.

CHAPTER XI.
THE TRIAL AND THE MYSTERIOUS APPEARANCE. —
Tue case of Edward Allen made great noise throughout the

country, and the excited curiosity and interest of the people

filled the village of Lewisburg to overflowing with anxious
spectators. The examining court had sent him on to the jail

of that place for trial at the October term. Mr. Allen hag
prepared for the worst, anticipating the probability of his con-

demnation to death upon the gallows. Never did a dutiful,
devoted, and affectionate son make greater exertions for @
father. Indignantly repelling the idea of the guilt of his father
for whose principler he had unbounded respect, Harry took
every precaution suzgested by the able and learned lawyers
whom he had employed, to guard against any indirection, advan-

tage, or conspiracy which might be developed in the course of —

the trial. They had advised him studiously and cautiously to
avoid the expression of any suspicion of conspiracy or design
against the life of his father by any person whateyer, ang
especially by Forster, whose whole conduct in relation to hig
father and sister Harry had communicated to them, and his
artful and dishonest conduct in relation to the lands. Gon.
fident of his father’s innocence, notwithstanding the strong
chain of circumstances that had led to his arrest, Harry seemed
to grow more confident every day that his father could not ba
made to appear guilty, or be condemned for a crime which he
had not committed.

On the 17th of October, George Arbuckle Templeman caine

tc Lewisburg, th bearer cf a letter to the judge. One of —

 

“4
 

Bs a ee (THE TRIAL

the sidpon was hewn t0 be’ siek and unable to attend: The
‘1sth of October arrived. The grand jury were empanneled :
aud sworn. The judge delivered his charge, and they retired

to their room. The commonwealth’s attorney sent to theny

- papers and witnesses, and in an hour they returned into court:
an indictment against Edward Allen for the murder of Job =

,Terry—a true bill.
Harry immediately left the court-house, and in a few mo-
ents returned with the petition of the accused. The judge

eedered the sheriff to have the prisoner brought into court.

The room was crowded in every nook and corner. Every
bench was filled; every place in which a man could stand
was occupied. The window-sills and doorways were blocked
ap with spectators. The. open area beyond the bar was a
moving mass of human heads, All were uncovered; and the
expressions which marked the countenances of the indiviauals
composing the crowd were as various as their ages, conditions,
and habits. The vacant stare, the keen, searching glance, the
mild and pitying eye, the contracted and stern frown, the re-
flective and dispassionate look, and the smirking, silly smile,
could all be seen in close proximity. °
Forster, who had: returned from the grand juror’s rom,
was seated on a window-sill not far from the judge; one of
_ the deputy-sheriffs and another young man occupied seats be-

side him. There was no noise, and only a low, indist.nct—

murmuring sound could be heard.
The crowd were seen moving and parting at the door, tia
_ the voice of the sheriff was heard saying, “ Make way, gentle-

men, for the prisoner.” All eyes were turned toward the door
and a breathless silence pervaded the hall. Slowly, but with

firm and steady steps, Edward Allen approached the back of

the bar, with the sheriff on one side and the jailer on the other --

Klis manly face was marked by an expression of deep thought,
' Fet his brow was smooth, his lips uncompressed, and his eyes
elear and serene. He was dressed in deep mourning. When
Ke reached the back of the bar, he made a profound obeisunce
ta the judge. A moment after, the judge said ,
“ Edward Allen, one judge can not proceed with your tral
Unless on your petition to be brought to trial do you make
that petition P

 

a ey
CD

ee. THE ALLENS.

48 ds sir,” replt fed Mr. adiee:

ee Sheriff, " said the judge, “place a chair for the ee a

- His whole appearance and demeanor were SeaneY those

ofa gentleman, in the proper sense of that term, He took ;

the seat offered behind his counsel.
After the usual legal formalities were all gone through, the

_ petit jury empanneled, not one of whom the prisoner chal-

lenged either peremptorily or for cause, the indictment read,

aiid he had pleaded “ Not guilty,” it was remarked that Mr-
_Allen’s senior counsel looked for a moment at Isaac Forster,

 

and then, with a very significant, but hardly perceptible smile’

on his lip, whispered in the ear of the prisoner.

_ The attorney for the commonwealth then arose and made
a few préfatory remarks on the nature of the char ge and the
evidence, the importance of minute circumstances as connect-
ing links in presumptive evidence, and concluded by calling
on the jury to bear in mind the solemn oaths they had taken
to weigh well the testimony and decide On the guilt or inno-
cence of the accused according to the law and the evidence.
“ Whenever a crime,” said he, “has been committed, it is the
interest of every good citizen that it should be detected, and

the perpetrator punished. Yet the punishment of the guilty —
is not more to be desired than the acquittal of the innocent.

I should be unworthy of the place which I occupy if I did

not, in the discharge of my duty, attempt to bring the guilty

to punishment; yet in this, as in every other*case, I should
rather rejoice that the accused should be able to establish his
innocence. In all cases, if one or the other is to be the regult,
it is better that the guilty should escape than that the punish-
ment of guilt should be inflicted on the innocent.”

oe

The junior counsel for the prisoner merely remarked thut —

he and his colleagues had no remarks to offer till they heard

the evidence against their client, the accused, and wouwlé only —

now say to his honor the judge, and the jury, that he believed:

- the indictment would not be sustained by the evidence, and
’ that the accused would be certainly and honorably acquitted.

The evidence of the finding of the body of Job Terry, the

time, place, and circumstances, and all that happened at the
inquest that could be legally introduced, was first brought

_ before the court. These are known ‘to our readers, and it is

¢
 

“f unnecessary to ata aa _ James Sac was then me
called to the book, and sworn. . The attorney for the com-
monvealth said: “Pell the court and. jury, Mr, Simpson, S

_ what you know of this case.”

The witncss said :

“TI know nothing about the murder of Job Terry. Mr. = :

Allen came to my store on the morning of the first of July —
ast, and asked me to give him change for a twenty-dollar —
aote, saying that he had no change, and expected to see Job_
Terry shortly, to whom he owed some seven or eight doting,

nd wished to pay him.”

“Did you give him change ?”

“No, I did not ; I had none to spare.”

“ Flow far do you live from the prisoner ?”

“ About a mile and a half above.”

“What time of day was it when the prisoner came to your
store ?” —

“About ten o’clock in the morning.”

“ How long did he stay ?”

“ Not more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“T understand you to say, Mr. Simpson, that you gave the
prisoner no change ?”

“T did say Pr

“Will you state what the prisoner said when you told him =

, you had no change to spare ?”

“He said he had tried to obtain it wherever he thought it
could be had in the neighborhood, and could not get a dollar,
and that he should make no further effort; that Job Terry
Would. have to wait still longer for his money.”

“J am done with this witness, gentlemen,” said the attorney
for the commonwealth, addressing himself to the prisoner’s
counsel. es
: “ We have no questions to ask,” observed Mr. ee.

-aldressing himself to the judge, who said: -
“You may retire for the present, Mr. Simpson.”
John and Mary Glover were sworn,
“Mr. Glover, stand a little back, and face the jury.”
The commonwealth’s attorney beckoned to the sheriff, and
 tequested him to hand to John Glover a piece of coin in bik
PMR ne Sepa Tine “ALL “ee

 

. Me Glover, will you 100i at that piece of gold; ona am “
sne court and jury what you know about it?” =
Glover said: “ My sister and myself went on a visit to i. . .
Allen’s on the second of July, after dinner, While we were
there, Job Terry came in. Mr. Allen invited him to sit down,
which he did, taking off his pack and setting it down on the —
floor. Mr. Allen then said to him, ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Terry, T
have not in change what I owe you, but as you are going —
down the river toward the Point, you must call on your return,
when I hope I shall have it ready for you. Mr. Terry —
answered—” .

“You need not state what Mr. Terry said,” interposed the
commenwealth’s attorney.

“We have no objection, your honor, to this witness, or any
other, stating all the conversations and circumstances in his
own way, believing that we shall best obtain in that way the
whole truth, and relying upon your honor to instruct this in-
telligent jury as to the legality of all the statements—to inform
them what is and what is not legal evidence for or against the
prisoner at the bar,” said Mr. Walker, one of the prisoner's
counsel.

“Go on, Mr. Glover,” said the judge.

“Mr. Terry answered Mr. Allen by saying,” continued the
witness, “‘It makes no odds, sir; I did not call for that, but
to see if I eons not sell you or the young people something |
this evening. Miss Mattie, the poor young lady that was_
drowned, then said, ‘As soon as you are rested, Mr. Terry,
open your little store ; I want a few articles.’ Just then, Mr.
Allen walked out of the room. When the pack was opened, ie
Miss Allen bought several articles, and my sister a shawl, or,
rather, I bought the shawl, and gave it to my sister. After
they were done dealing, Miss Mattie said to Job Terry, * Here
ig 90 wie English guinea; give me the change if I am entitlea
to any. He took the guinea, examined it, and said,‘We —
dor’ often come across these yellow boys out here: a good
guiaea, of good weight.’ He poised it on his tittle finger, and
pail: ‘I should know it among a thousand, from this mark
upon the edge.’ Seeing me look curiously at the coin, he —
handed it to me, and running over the articles Mattie had
bought, eaid to her, ‘ Your change, Miss, is six shillings; tha —

 
 

 

“JOHN GLOVER TESTIFIES, uae 3
+ a

iricins come 19 twenty-two shitaaiee: Here i your aye te

 
 
     

much obliged, Miss” I examined the piece cf gold, ae 20 eS a

‘did my sister, who then returned it to Job Terry. I paid hiza

for the shawl. He handed them a handsome box, out of

which I believe they bought some other articles, which I did
not see. He then collected his merchandise, which was scat-
tered on the floor, put it in his pack, and closed it. Soon
after that my sister and myself left Mr. Allen’s, on our return
home.” ; :
The commonwealth’s attorney inquired: “ Did you Jeava oe
Terry the peddler there ?” peak =
: “ Yes.”
“ What time in the evening ?”
“ Just about sunset,” :
“Look at the piece of gold; is that the same guinea or

piece of gold paid by Miss Allen to the a Job Tony, n..: ‘

S _ believe it is.”

“Why ?”

“From the marks on it.” *

“ Hand it to the jury that they may examine it thernselves
und judge if i's identity can be established by any marks on
it. Were any other persons present ef

“Mi. Forster was sitting in the porch, reading a news-
paper.”

' “Was Harry Allen there ?”
“No; he was not at home.”

. Any questions, gentlemen ?” inquired the commonwealth’a a

~ attorney.
“None,” replied Mr. Walker. '
“ Miss Glover, will you tell us what you know of this piece
of money ? Take it and look at it.”

She looked at the coin, but her eyes were suffused with: 2

tears; she trembled excessively, and could hardly speak so ag

ie to be heard.

 

“Tt seems to me—I believe it is—I cam not say it Caney ;
- you have heard what brother has said—”
“Did you see Miss Allen pay Mr. Terry a piece of go.d
od : “ Yes, sir.”

“Did you hand it to him after looFing at it ”
“Yes, sir, I did.”

 
 

Ge + ae a a

. Tens! msy nelene Miss Glover.’ ee a
She did retire, supported vn her. ee and sobbing
_ bitterly.
“ Swear the sheriff. Tell the court and jury, seria, how
this piece of money came into your possession.” :
= When my duty compelled me to arrest the prisoner ou
the evening of the third of July, he was sitting in the porch
_ reading. He seemed much astonished. I then showed him
the search-warrant. He handed me his keys. I searched
his desk, and found in a secret drawer ninety-five ser, in
silver and this piece of gold.”

“ Why was a search-warrant issued ?”

“Tt was stated at the coroner’s inquest that Miss Allen
and John Glover had paid money to the peddler, Job Terry, ~
the evening before, at Mr. Allen’s, and there was none —
in his pack or on his person.”

“ Are you certain that the piece of gold shown to the court
and jury is the same that you found in the prisoner’s desk?” _

“Yes, I am; it has been in my possession ever since.”

“ Where is the rest of the money found in his desk ?”

“Here in this bag.”

“Set it on the clerk’s table. Stand aside, sir. James
Simpson, we must trouble you again,” said the common-
wealth’s attorney. “Open that bag, look at the money in it,
and say if you recognize any of the pieces in the bag.” —

Simpson went to the clerk’s table, examined. the money —

and said: erty pare 3

_ “ Here is one piece which I know. It is a counterfeit.”

“ Well, sir, what do you know of it 2”

“On the first of July, Job Terry was at my store—com-
plained of having been pestered all the way from Waynes- —

borough by base coin—showed this one. Mz. Forster and
myself doubted whether it was a counterfeit, and told him we
should think it a good dollar ; to convince us he took a file
and made this notch in it. He said it was different from any

he had seen.” ae

“Did he say of whom he received it?”

“ Yes--of Mr. Samuel Carter, at the falls.”

_ “Where is he?” .
é “T do not know; it is reported that he is gone tae to f

a “ Fi

 
 

 parer GAINs’ ‘uSTLMONY.

Old Virgwia, having oaidaat a letter inform’ng him that his

father was ill—not expected t) live.”

“Well, sir, what became of that dollar fine it was filed ok

and ascertained to be a counterfeit ?”

 
  

“ Job Terry put it into his pocket, and said he should keep ; :

't to show the people, to guard them against the like,”

“You may stand aside. Sheriff, was that bad dollar with

he n itch filed in it found by you in the prisoner’s desk ?”
J was, and all on the clerk’s table.”
“ Swear Peter Gains.”
We was sworn and said;. “ When crowner was a-settin’ on

the dead body of Job with the jury, I was thar Mr. Forster

was a owin’ me a small matter, and he axed me to take a
walk one side. Says he to me, says he, ‘ Peter, let’s take a

walk.’ So I gits up, hopin’ he was gwine to pay me that _
four-and-sixpence he had bin owin’ me since—let me see—last

Christmas—no, I’m wrong—last. New Year’s day, as well as

‘My; memory sarves me. So we walks off down toward the

- stoopin’ down, I picked up this dirk that’s a lyin’ thar by the |
hankycher on the table. It was all dirty and bloody—I was

river, and as we turned round the big rock, I sees a hanky-

cher a stickin’ on a brier ’bout a foot and a half, or a leetie

under or over, from the ground, jest as if the brier had caught
in it. stickin’ out fashionable-like from the pocket, and jerked
it out as some one was a passin’ by. ‘Bless me,’ says I,
‘here’s a hankycher, says 1; and I stept up to take hold on
it, but I stumbled agin a rock, and. as I rekivered I was nigh
fallin’, I tell ye. I see’d somethin’ a shinin’ in the dirt, and

acared monstrous bad, and so was Mr. Forster, I reckon.
‘My God?! says he, ‘ Peter, this is a bad business.’ ‘ Jest so,’
bays I; ‘this must be the dirk that killed Job.’ So we fotch

‘om right back to the men that was settin’ on the body, andI
‘jold ’em all bout it, didn’t I, Mr. Crowner?’? The coroner

nodded his assent. “Think I didn’t forgit to give Mr. ors. —
- wer a hint "bout the four-and-sixpence —that I did; it went _

tlean out of my head.”
_ The handkerchief and dirk were then shown to the juiige

and the jury. The former was of* white, fine limen cambrie,
and marked on the corner, “ Hd. Allen, No. 7.” The dirk

Was a costly and beautiful instrument—the handle of mother
 

78 a THR ALLENS

of pearl, richly inlaid with gold, on whiel were engra red the
letters “A”
Mr. Wickham, of counsel for the accused, arose and ae: om
“In order to save the time of the court, we do not mean to
deny that these articles are the property of Mr. Allen ; there
fore, no proof need be adduced on that point—we admit the
fact.” 2

“Very well, sir,” said the attorney for the commonwealth,
* Have you any questions to ask Peter Gains ?”

“ None, sir.”

“You may stand aside, Mr. Gains. Swear Isaac Forster,
clerk. Well, Mr. Forster, proceed with your testimony in
this unfortunate affair.”

“Truly unfortunate,” said Forster, “and I am very sorry
that my oath compels me to say any thing about it. I’ve always
been the friend of the mwrd—prisoner, I mean.”

“Speak it out, Mr. Forster—of the murderer, you might say,
str. It would be true you are his friend,’ said Mr. Wickham,
in a voice the clear silver tones of which were distinctly |
heard in every part of that crowded room. ‘“ Your friend-

ship for my client has nothing to do in this matter. We
want the facts—the truth, sir—the whole truth.” :
“Perhaps,” said the attorney for the commonwealth, “as.
Mr. Forster desires to say nothing more than he is compelled
by his oath and the law, if it meets with no objection from
you, gentlemen of counsel for the accused, and your Honor
(addressing the judge) will permit, we ae beat obtain hia
evidence by propounding interrogatories.”

“ We have no objections,” said Mr. Randolph. “ Proceed |
with your questions, sir.” :

“Mr. Forster,” pepe the commonwealth’s aiioeidh. ,

“ were you at the prisoner’s house on the second of July ?”

“T was.”

“What time of day did you arr ve there ?” —

“ About eleven o’clock.”

“Had you business with him ?”

_ “A small matter of business. I held a note of his, witignad
te me, for thirty dollars.”

“Did you visit him with the view of collecting bo

_waney ?”
ce eae PaaS at OW RF eg SNe” Lat AOA RR Rice eo

| QUESTIONING FORSTSR,

 

* Pady q th i j FS Pee Ss
_ “Did he pay you ?” ae
~ “No; I told him I wanted specie, and he said he was,
sorry he had not a dollar of specie, and not enough in notes”

to pay me at that time.” a
“What time in the day did this conversation take: pb . ae.

“ Before dinner; I suppose about one o’clock.”

“You said the euHeotion of the note was partly your busi-
ness. What else, Mr. Forster, brought you to the prisoner's
house?”

“Yt was a pleasant place to visit at. I had been often
there, was well acquainted with the family, and liked their
society.”

“Were you acquainted with his daughter ?” °

“Yes; that young lady that was, unfortunately, drowned,
or, when her father was arrested, es mean to say, —
may have drowned—”

“ Committed self-murder, you mean; speak it out, sir,” said
Mr. Wickham.

“She,” continued Forster, “was a very siseecubie young»
lady, and I—take great pleasure in the company of young
ladies.” K

“Did you hold any conversation with her that day ?”

“Yes, I may say I did, = a private and delicate kind,
which I do not wish to repeat.’

“You are not bound, Mr. Forster,” said the ‘udge, “ oy
repéat it.”

“Well, sir, did you see her after dinner ?”

“ Not till after Mr. Glover and his yister came in.”

“Did you converse with her?”

“J did not. I took a seat in the porch, to Pte a news
» paper.” oe

“Did you see Job Terry there ?”

“Yes; the young ladies were dealing with him.”

“Could you see them 2”

_ “Yes; the door was open, and they were not ten —
from me. »

“Did you see any money paid, and by whom ?”

“By Mr. Glover—silver dollars, and a piece of eg by

- Mise Allen.”
a Look at that dirk, Mr. Forster. Did you ever see it.

fe before the day on which the coroner's nage was held on

the body of Job Terry ?” .

“ Yes; I have,”

ae Mowe than once ?”

“ Yes, sir, often.”

‘ Where ?”’

‘On the mantel, amcag.other curiosities, in the prisoner’
Giiting-room?f? . ;
“When did you see it there ?”

“ Several times.”

“ When did you see it hess last ?”

“Late in the evening of the second of July.”

“ After Mr. Glover and his sister had departed ?”

“-¥eg,”’ '

“Was Miss Allen in the room ?”

“No; she had left the room.”

e Did any other person enter the room before you left tha
porch ?”

“ None except the prisoner. He came in through the
adjoining room, walked up to the mantel, and took some.
- thing bright from it—his spectacles, I supposed—and went
nut.”

“Was the peddler there ?”

“No; he had gone just before.”

“ How: long ?”

“Two or three minutes.”

“ Were you in that room afterward £Y

“Yes; about ten minutes after Mr. Aflen left the room I
went to put the —er on the mantel, where I found —
is.”

“Did you see the dirk there then ?”

“No; it was not there.” oa

“ Are you sure of that?”
- “JT did not see it in.the place where it was lying before.”

“ Where do you suppose it was ?”

“T do not like t» suppose, sir, against a man’s life,”

“You are not bound to answer, Mr. Forster,” said the
judge. | | c
_ “Did the prisoner return, or did you see him after that?” -

 
a om

ae _ WITNESSES FOR roe DErENes.

oa

co T aid not ‘see him titer that, for : stayed n ne! more than * ne
minute or two.” ee
“Was it dark ?”
“No; only getting so.”
‘Did you take leave of ‘any of the family ?” eon
“No; Mr. Allen was not in the house, and Miss Allen was
p her own room, I presume. I mounted my horse, that had

   

‘peen bre ought out at my request some time before, and rode

away.”
“ Any g't2stions, gentlemen ” tiiepaitedt the commonwealth’s
ettorney.

“ Not now,” replied Mr. Walker ; “we may wish to ask Mr. ss

Ferster a question or two presently.”
Isaac Forster went back and resumed his seat on the
window-sill, where the two gentlemen with whom he had —
ben sitting made room for him. The prosecuting attorney said;
~The evidence on the part of the commonwealth has all
besn heard, I believe, and I do not wish to make any com
meuts on it until I hear the evidence on the part of the ac-
cured, if, indeed, there is any. My brethren of the bar, of
connsel for the prisoner, have pursued a course novel and un-
accountable to me. The prisoner, acting, doubtless, in accord- _
ane with their advice, made no challenges; and they, S
pe fectly aware—no lawyers can be more so—that much that
hs been said by the witnesses is not strictly legal evidence,
have opposed no objections, asked no. questions, and cross-
examined not a single witness. The case really seems to me

of the gravest aspect—awfully plain, and I am entirely at a

toss to- know how they mean to shape their defense. - at
yeu any witnesses, gentlemen ?” a
' “We have,” replied Mr. Randolph, ‘and the scales

‘will soon be enlightened as to the course we have taken and

- the nature of our defense, May it please your Honor,” com —
tinued he, “we ask the indulgence of the court for a few —
minutes, Some of our witnesses are travel-worn, and we did

not wish to subject them to the annoyance of a crowded —
eourt-room till their presence should be necessary. They are —
m town, and will be here in a few minutes. Sheriff, cali
Rd vard Templeman, at the door, if you please. Our prinet:

pal witnesses, sir, are ‘adies,” ° :

 
eet

tcwas observed. that: when, Mr. Randolph remarked that
the witnesses were ladies, Isaac Forster turned pale, started,

and looked anxiously toward the door. The sherifi bad
hardly returned to his seat, when ‘he stately form of Edward
Templeman was seen entering the hall. His head was uncov-
ered, and his thin, gray locks were waving over his broad
and high forehead.

The “stormy multitude” parted before him as he slowly

advanced. On his arm leaned a female in deep mourn-—

ing, whose face was entirely concealed by her bonnet

and a long black vail. Close behind them walked Harry

Allen, with another lady in a close riding-dress, whose face
was also covered by a vail. As they approached the spot
where the prisoner sat, he arose from his seat. In an instant
‘he vail was raised, the bonnet fell to the ground, and as she
threw her arms around the neck of the prisoner and cried out,
“Oh! my father! my father!” there burst forth from the
astonished. multitude in every part Uf the hall the exclama-
tion :

“Tt is his daughter! it is his daughter! Great God! has
the grave given up its dead to save him 2”

It was indeed his daughter. Her long, disheveled hair had
fallen in thick volumes on the shoulders of her father, and

displayed to all the face of Mattie Allen. The tears that

fell fast from her eyes were not the only tears that were shed

in that vast assembly. On every side sobs and sighs, and —
sounds of sympathy were heard. Even the venerable form —

of the judge was bent forward till his head rested on the
table before him, and his whole frame was agitated by rtrong

£

 

‘
 

  

Epis CHAPTER XII. es

‘THR CONFEDERATES’ SECRET REVEALED.

We need not inform our readers that Mr. Allen was not _
suprepared for this affecting meeting with his daughter
vhom he had believed dead till a day or two before his trial
and we must now reluctantly leave the court-house and the

- trial to account for the mysterious appearance of Miss Allen

- gt this critical conjuncture.

x

Ben Bramble, the week before the trial of Allen—which he
resolved to attend, believing him to be innocent, and deter- ~

mined to render him every assistance in his power—set out
with his friend and ally in wooderaft, Nat Colly, to hunt on
toward the ferry, and thence to Lewisburg. He said he
“hated to speak evil of any human cretur, but, to save Allen’s
life, he meant to tell them as tried him all his mind about
Zac Forster, who, as he had larnt, was the main witness agin
him. Tl prove him onfit to give evidence agin a man that’s
got more goodness and honesty in the eend of his little finger
than Zac Forster’s got in his whole carcass, if it was as big
as big Sewell Mountain, Nat, you’ve see’d him take out and

_ put in links in his surveyin’ chain when he thought nobody

was lookin’ at him 2”

“Yes, I have,” replied Nat. . es
They made their way to the ferry-house, where they stayed —

all night. Hearig there that signs of a large bear kad been —
seen making up the river on the other side, they recrossed
very early on Thursday morning, and passed up by a route
unusual even to hunters, hoping to fall in with the bear,
_ Ben’s dogs, Captain, Rover and Young Kate, like their mas-

ter aid his companion, were very willing to rest after having.

gap) red the cliffs of New River, and its ivy-covered ravines
for some ten or twelve miles. eas
Ben aud Nat had seated themselves on a fallen tree on the _
Ade of a high, rocky hill, some fifty feet above a small stream
that passed in a deep, narrow gorge along the western base

vf the hill, Captain and Rever were coming up the stream,
poe jot Y eed oe : a Cee, Re ae oy ade

OS AS 2 Yaa eae

 

J
\

: smelling on the bushes, and stones, and lugs. Kate had em

across the hill, as a near way, and was soon at her —.

- feet. :
“ Poor thing,” said Nat, looking at the young hound, “she’a — .
mighty down-hearted, not findin’ nothin’ even to bark atin
these hills.” ei

“That's not it,” said Ben; “she’s been taki’ cn and-
mopin’ like, that poor hound has, ever since Mattie AJlen was —
drownded, When TI go to Allen’s she moans like a human —
cretur—hunts all over the house and garden for her, and then é
comes to me whinin’ and whimperin’ like a child. She'll
never be no profit in the woods. I can’t be mad with her
nor scold her for it, ’kase Mattie Allen and this poor slut |
was monstrous intimate and lovin’. She'd lay her head in
her lap and look up in her face by the hour, while Miss Mat-
tie would pat her head and smooth down her ears with her
soft, white hand. When we was thar, she always would feed
‘Young Kate herself out on a yearthenware plate, the same as __
if she had been a human. When she found out (and she
was sure to find it out, as a farmer’s old dog does when he’s
gwine to kill a beef) that I was goin’ to Allen’s, away she'd
go before me, friskin’ and frolickin’ all the way, and git thar
afore I was half-way. But when I’d come away, she’d hang —
back and whine, like a humorsome, spoilt child gwine to.
school.”

“ What's got into her now ?” said Nat; “here she comes
like mad.” ¥
Young Kate jashed right up to -Ben, leaped upon him,
Whining and wagging her tail, and then darted back again up
the side of the hill, looking bawks at him, evidently inviting
bim to follow her. After running about thirty yards, she
stopped suddenly, thrust her nose into the ground, then leaped —

into the air, waving her tail and erecting ber ears, and mak-
ing the most extravagant antics, Both a men arose to their
feet. i
“Stop, Nat,” said Ben. “Don’t budge a foot, but keep —
these old dogs quiet.” Let me go and see what Kate’ 8 arter
She’s either gwine mad, or thar’s some deviltr y; somethin’
onnat’ral thar.” ;
Ben approached the spot, Kete had scratched wel ie Pm
 
   

fr at least ten minutes, every now and. then raising ina es
clinched: fist in the air, and shaking it furiously. Nat's .
patience gave way, and he cried out: “ Why, what’s got into

» TBE CAVE,
“moss, aad there: was, a sndes in the sible to ce on wos Hy

applying her nose. Ben kneeled down and put his ear to the _
tissure, and then his eye. Nat observed him in this position ©

you. and Kate? What tarnal nonsense is aia Both nee

mand, I b'leve.”

Ben turned his head instantly toward Nat, ae made a sign i

- of silence and danger with his hand. He then took Kate in

‘his arms, with his hand on her mouth, and crept back as softly
and stealthily as if life depended on the silence of his tread.

When he reached Nat, he set his teeth hard for half a minute — :

before he spoke a word, and then he said:

“ Of all the infarnal villyans and devils that God lets live, a

Zac Forster is the beat. That poor gal that we all thought
was drownded and in hesayen, is here under ground, in a cave,
put thar by him. It’s 45 true as you and I are mortal sinners, —
Nat Colly. I heard her and another woman as plain as you

~ heai’ me, Kate’s diskivered the rascal’s den. He ain’t in it
_—I.heard’em say so. But we'll fix him, as sure as you. ever

kilt a rattlesnake. Nat, jest go and listen,”

Nat’s eyes dilated with astonishment as he said:

« Ben, I’m sorter joubous. A?’ you swre they war humans
you heard? _ Maybe, now, it’s somethin’ onnat’ral—some of the
devil’s deceptions. Thar’s strange things in these mount’ins.”

— “T vetl you, Nat, its nothin’ but man’s devilment, and no

- mistake—I could see ’em, too, and I smelt fried bacon, plain.” ;

\

“Did you?” said Nat. “Then I'll go—my rifle’s loaded,
anyhow. . But do you keep a sharp look-out, Ben; apd lend
me that long knife of yourn—mine ain’t long enough to make
daylight through any oncommon critter, if so be I. wt into. a
scrimmage with one.” s

Nat strode away to the place, looking around in every. ee
direction, and every now and then stopping to lisven. Ben
seated himself-on the tree and watched him, stil\ hoi ting
Kate in his arms, who struggled violently to get away and
follow Nat to the crevice in the rock. After a short time Na’

returned,

0” Iv’s ag true as preachin’,’ said he. - : She's dowa co eo

 
eS (TE ALIENS, ee

 

waa another woman tellin’ her if she dents marry Weenie

‘Monday, her father will swing on the gallows. Thar’s a

_ man, too—I heard his voice. He said: ‘It’s too late now—

Forster’s gone, and Allen swings to a certainty. You'll not

see Forster till that job’s done. The trial’s on Monday, you —

know, Polly M’Cloud.’ Well, Ben, don’t this beat everything
you ever heard on ?” said Nat.

“T tell you what it is,” replied Ben, “ we must diskiver the a

mouth of this cave, and I'll manage the rest pretty quick
How fur is it from here to Squire Templeman’s ?”

“About seven miles across the hills, I judge,” said Nat,

“and eight or ten round; I can git thar in an hour and a

half, or two hours at the furdeat: es

“Well,” said Ben, “the way to the mouth of this devil's
den must make up soriéwher out on this branch; thar must
be some travelin’ to it—some signs to track the devil to his
hole as well as a Jar to his’n. Captain and Rover knows
when J’m on a trail, and it’s ther business to foller me, and
keep ther mouths shot as well as I do; they'll keep quiet.
But poor Kate’s in such a takin’ I shall have to carry her in
my arms, with my hand on her mouth, or she'll be sure to
make a fuss. Here, Nat, take my gun, and keep a sharp eye

An the left-hand side of the branch.”

They went down to the little stream opposite the place
where they had been sitting, and walked in the water down
the ravine till they were nearly opposite the crevice discovered
by Kate, and nearly fifty feet below it.

“See here,” whispered Ben: “a shoe- print in the sand,
goin’ down the holler.”

“Stop, Ben,” cried Nat, scarcely above his breath ; “here's
a path under these ivy bushes right above my head, goin’ out

of the branch, and slantin’ up the hill; and I can see the
game track in the path. Take your rifle; and I can crawl on |

all fours up the hill and see whar it teeta to.”
In less than five minutes Nat was seen coming down the
hill backward, like a bear down a tree; after-getting near to

Ben, he turned, and came into ‘he pranol at the same point —

from which he had ascended.

a a ey.

“Tt’s all right,” said he. “The mouth is up thar sinsdeh 4
that rock, covered up as close as a bird’s nest—about the ee
> ee he, hg a ee eo, ae ae ee ee
ee. Eee ss . i.

2 oe oh PLANS KOR A aprons, ee ee

oe bantest fixin’ you ever see’d. | ‘I kotch a glimpse of 4 the a :
this time. He was settin’ noddin’, with a gun across his lap

— and a lamp lit behind him.” —

Ben knew that his comrade’s information was entirely in
be relied on when nothing unnatural was suspected which
might disturb his senses, and he plainly perceived that ali —
- apprehensions of that kind had been dissipated by what Nag

had seen and heard. His plan of operation seemed to have
been arranged in his mind, for no sooner had Nat informed
kim of what he had seen than he said, in a whisper :

 

t

“You or I must stay hid on this hillside, near enough to _

kill any thing bigger than a mink that can go in or come out
of that cave. T’other must be off to the squire’s to git a

s'arch-warrant and a possum of men to git here afore night, —

or if in the night, with lights, to be lit arter we surround the
mouth up thar.”

“Tl go,” said Nat, “and be back with men, squire or ne_

squire, by two hours’ sun.”

z J ust tell the squire,” said Ben, “ all we’ve see’d and hearn,
and swear to it for me and you too, if he says sc. For he’s
the right sort of a man, head and heart, liver and gizzard—
I’ve see’d him tried. Bring the Vandals and Huffs, and take
the dogs with you, and be sure to bring ’em back, too; for if
any man in that cave breaks by us, Captain and Rover, if ¥
tell em, will take his track same as any other varmint, ‘The
old dogs will foller you, and I'll carry Kate out on hearin’ of

‘this place, then put this string round her neck, and she'll —

fuller quiet. Leave the guns with me. Tell the squire you
want a s’arch-warrant for a stolen ’oman and the tlhe
that’s wuss than for stolen goods, I s’pose.”

This arrangement was no sooner agreed on than it was | at
in execution. Ben returned, and took his station where he
could see any thing that should pass the mouth of the cava

and within fifty feet of it, but so carefully concealed that one..

- might go within a yard of him without being able to see
him.

Nat had hardly passed three miles over the hills when he
- struck the road leading to the falls, and saw at some distaace _
behind him Charley Vandal riding briskly up to him. _ ;

won overtook Nat, and cried out
“ Why, what’s the sats colly, that you are all Ags and
nO gun to-day ?”

“Come up, Charley, I’ve got news for you, my boy.” v4

“What's that, friend Colly ?”

“Ben Bramble and I have found a varmint’s den, that we

are afeard to enter without a s’arch-warrant and a possett, and

 

y

f'm gwine to the squire’s for the warrant, aud boys enough S

p-hold the old one a scuffle, any how.”

“You don’t say so ! Nat, Tm your man for that sport, by

jolly. Where’s Ben ?”

“ Watchin’ the den twell I git back, with his gun and mine
too. ”

_“ Then there is the devil to pay in earnest, Nat; for noth-
ing in these woods, nor nowhere else, I believe, ever drove
Ben back with one gun, or no gun, either.”

“He’s made out on straight-grained timber, I icnaw? said
Nat, “ well enough.”

__ “But the squire ain’t at home, Nat; he’s at our house ,
this is warrant-trying day.”

“So much the better,” said Nat; “it is ‘nearer than his
house, and we can git the men a right off on the
ground,”

They were soon at old Mr Vandal’s, and. Colly, wei was

well known to Squire Templeman, stepped up close to him, |

_ as he was seated at a table, having a few books and papers
before him, and said:

Ea Bctaixe, not to interrupt you, one word, if you please, by

ourselves. It’s no small warranting matter, sir.”

His looks and manner told to this old soldier and excellent
magistrate that something of consequence was to be commu- —

nicated. He rose from his seat, and they stepped aside, Five

rainutes afterward pas Templeman called his Constable, and

paid:

“Summon a posse of twelve men; sec that they are well
armed, and ready to go with me in half an hour. Adjoursa
the court.”

The men, who were in sittle groups in the house, around.
the door and in the yard, were all wondering what was the

matter. Conjecture followed conjecture in. quick guecession,
The squire’s confereace with Colly seing ended, Le stepped
 

STE enn CED My Sle iy acs epee epee tree a
gh > See Te Ne ae gee

TH GUARD SURPRISED,

oS

up on the door sill bid ‘ella the attention: of thé men. They
crowded around him, and he said:

 

“ My friends and neighbors, most of you have tide wolaiens 4 4

or are the scns of soldiers, and know the necessity of secrecy

and silence when the object is to catch the enemy napping, A
hiding- -place of rascals, violators of the law, has just been dis- :

‘covered, and they must be taken. Now let me advise all of
you who do not choose to accompany me this evening to go
quietly home, and to say not one word of this matter. For

+N

if the report gets out that they are discovered, those in the

place will arm and defend themselves, causing bloodshed in ~

taking them, and all the rest of the gaug who happen to be
‘out will hear of their comrades being taken, and make their

escape instead of fulling into the trap that will beset forthem. _
Be silent as death, or you will cause a very bad man toescape

the punishment he deserves, and the murder of innocent per-
sons, whom the villains now hold in confinement.”

There was whispering among the men when Squire Tem: ae

pleman ceased to speak, and one of the men then said:

“If so be your worship will allow, we'll all go with you.” :

“Very well; load rifles, saddle horses, and let’s be off—
we've no time to lose.” hee

In fifteen minutes the constable said :

“ All ready, sit.”

“Lead on, Nat Colly,” said the squire.

There were fifteen men. They soon reached the head of

the ravine in which flowed the rivulet that passed by the =
mouth of the cave. Here they alighted, and tied their horses

out of sight of the little, scarcely discernible path leading —

down, and mostly in the water. Squire Templeman: then

explained to them the state of the case, and gave them his

orders. Four men stayed with the horses and watched the
_ rayine, with directions to take any man or men who might
attempt to pass them. The rest followed Nat Colly, m Indian
file, down the ravine. Not a word was spoken, and even the

dogs, Captain and Rover, crept along as if they know & sure ‘

prise of something was meditated.

The mouth of the cave was surrounded by the men, at the |

- distance of twenty paces. Ben Bramble crept out from ni
jurking place, same up to the squire, and said : 8
‘

¥

: re. Fe ih ye oe eee Ye oe BS
\ Ee ae:

/ The devil ain't at home, yer honor- -here’s Lis den—bu Pe

one of his cubs is, and that poor innocent gal, Allen’s darter,
that to all appearance was drownded. Shall I haul him
out ?”

“Yes, you ard Charley Vandal and Nat Cody. There

‘may be more than you suppose. Be ready, boys, to rush in

wil help them if need be. Here are the lights.”

Ben bad hardly moved a stick of the brushwood concealing
de entrance, when a low voice within said : ;

“ What's the vime of day?”

“The right time to catch varmints,” said Ben. |

“ The hell tt 73 /” and a rifle-ball from within grazed Ben’s
cap, and the report, with stunning reverberation, rung through
the cave. ‘

In rushed Ben, closely followed by Nat and Charley. They
had not advanced five steps into the cave when they heard a
violent scuffing on their right, and the choking sound of ¢
voice, in half-stifled tones, exclaiming: “Take ’em off, the
d—d dogs—they’ll kill me.” The worrying, low growls of
the dogs, Captain und Rover, mingled with the choking sound

of the voice.

“That's the time of day, is it?” said Ben, darting to tha

spot, and releasing the man from the hold of his dogs, who,
-unperceived, had entered under the brush and seized the man

in his low, narrow place of concealment. “It’s well yon gin
up so quick,” he continued, dragging the man into the light,

or Captain would have stopped yer squallin’ in no time,
though you ar an oncommon yarmint. Here, boys, sarch

this critter; maybe he’s got . !aws, that he'll be tryin’ to dig
into some on us Thar, that’ll do; deliver him to the squire.”
As soon as the man reached the mouth of the cave, and
waw it surrounded by armed men, he turned pale and shrunk
back,
“ Hello! mister,” said Ben to him, “if you don’t want to

- gtretch some of them hickory saplings with that.neck of yourn,

make straight answers to what I’m gwine to ax you, How |
many ground-hogs are ih this hole ?”
“ None but women.”
“Whar’s Zac Forster ?” :
The man turned his scowling eyes or. Ben, and said:
 

a : foes ees | MATTIE RESCUED.

 

as Den him, Idon’t know.”

“When a he here?” The man beckons _ Take i ’

to the squire,” said Ben.

As soon as the man saw oa Templeman ie hung down :

his head, and said :

- “T see it’s no use; the game's up. It’s all Torre acing, a
squire, as I hope for | mercy.” 2
_ “ When will Forster be here ?” inquired Squire Temples

 
 
  

“ Not till after the trial on Monday,” was the eye. = 4 s

_ “ When was he here ?”

_ Yesterday night.”

“ The squire, looking the man full in the face, said:

“You can only hope for mercy, Joe Swinton,” (the man
trembled at the mention of his own name), “ by confessing ee

whoie truth. Where are the rest of your gang ?”

“Some in Kentuck and over the Ohio, ppd some wih

Forster.”

“When will they be here ?” Py ee

“At no set time—just as it happens—as they can.”

Ye stopped short and the squire added :

“ Ag they can pass off the counterfeit money. Make a elias
preast of it, sir. I shall see what’s in this cave, you may be-

- weil auated. Where are the tools 2?”

ft

“ Here,” said the man, pointing to the cave.
“Very weil, we shall see,” added Squire Templeman. ©

¥

K

While these things were taking place at the mouth of the
cave, a very different scene was enacting within. The old

woman, who acted the part of cook and housekeeper in the —
den, hearing the sound of the gun and the scufile of the. to

witn Joe Sevtnieoas had thrown a bar across the door of a

hake
es

emall chamber separated from the broad, downward die oS

in the cave by a pariltion of plank, and was crouching down

with her ear near the ground, listening with breathless eager:
mess. Mattie Allen had thrown herself on a low truckle-bed,-
“where she sat trembling, anxious and alarmed, yet with somo —
glimmering of hope that the disturbance might not be a broil”

among the vile inmates of the cave, which Lad happened _

- more than once since she had been its unwilling and unhappy

 

tenant. “Oh! if it is discovered!” thought she; “ but if not,
_ prepare my heart, heavenly Father,” she said aloud, “tor

ye

“i

 
eo ae ee PE ALAIN

¥

the ee that await me, and oh! rihvetnliet-mecinibat my
father. Oh my God, have mercy on him in his heavy afflic-

. tions.”
“Always a-praying,” muttered Polly MW Cloud, the old

woman. “ What good does that do? Yow'll never pray

yourself out of tis place, nor your father out of Greenbrier

jail till he swings, if you don’t come to, and marry Isaac

Porster before he’s sentenced.”

  

 

“Never, never!” said Mattie. “Cease, I pray you, this

hateful—Heavens! what is that 2”

The voice of Ben Bramble was heard saying, to Young

Kate, who was scratching and whining at the door, “Ah!
Kate, you are a faithful critter. She’s in thar. You shall
soon lick her land, and show her the way out on this cussed
den.”

At the sound of his voice, Mattie, with one leap, reached +

the door, wrenched the bar from the hasp, and feli senseless —
at the feet of the hardy hunter, whose tears fell fast as he bent

vver her pallid, grief-worn faoei

“Poor innocence ! it?s overcome her quite,” said Ben, as he
took her in his arms and laid her on the bed. “ Bring some
water here, you old devil’s darling, or ll make you uglier
than you are.” see
_ “Brandy’s better, sir,” replied Polly M’Cloud.

“For sich as you; bring water, I say,” exclaimed Ben,

“and sprinkle her face, or Pll give you sich a sprinklin’. ag
will cool all the brandy in your carcass.”

Kate had crept up on the bed, and laid her head upon

_ Mattie’s arm. As the old woman approached to sprinkle the

face of the fainting girl, Kate rose Up and snapped at her hand,

growling furiously. ben snatched the water from her, and—

while performing an oflice to which he was all unused, 00k
ing first at the reviving girl and then at Kate, he said;

“Them as says dun. critters has got no sense and fellow:
feelin’ don’t know nothin’ about natur’. Lie still, Miss Mat
tie,” cuntinued Ben, us he saw her open her eyes and look
wildly around, while the affectionate hound nestled up to hat
and licked her arm. ‘ You are safe now.”

“And my father ?”

“ Safe too, MDT my dear joing lady,” said Seng?

ae
 

et Ma tee J gas _ id :
i

LIBERTY. ,

- Templeman, who had entered the cave, “since this nest foul

and wicked conspiracy kas been brought to light by the hand

of Providence.” et
| “ Yeavenly Father! I thank thee,” said Mattie, raising
herself on her knees, and stretching her hands and directing
her eyes toward the heavens, from which she was shut out;
“and oh! that thy blessing—thy richest blessing, may descend

on thos® who have been thy instruments in saving us from

he wiles of the wicked. Oh ! sir—oh! my dear Ben Brame
~ pie, take me from this horrid place. He will come with his
bad men. aund—and—you do not know how desperately wicked
he is.” — i
“ Be composed, Miss Allen; make yourself perfectly easy
on that score. We have stout hearts and unerring rifles

enough around you to defy fifty Forsters, and to shield you ;

from every danger. You shall soon be under the shelter of

- my roof—Templeman is my name.” ie
“Thanks sir, a thousand thanks, Mr. Templeman. But
- tell tne to what or to whom, under Providence, do I owe this

- signal and timely deliverance ?”

“Phere gtands the man,” said the squire, pointing to

Ben Bramble, “to whose prudence and courage you are in-
debted.”
“J can’t take it all to myself, squire,” said Ben. “ You

and them brave boys, Charley and Nat Colly in particular,
‘and, more than all, Young Kate, has been God’s instruments

- told Nat and me, as plain as a damb critter can speak, that:

 

«Su

7

in this thing. She made the first diskivery—she did. She —

Miss Mattie was here onder ground. That's the raal truth of | |

the case. Young Kate rescued her. She’d never have coms

to light if it hadn’t bin for this hound—that is to say, humanly —

_ epeakin’.”

Here Ben related the circumstances of the discovery a8 they _

: ‘eecurred, to the astonishment of the whole party, who had
 eollected in the cave, with the exception of the guard sta
tioned at its mouth. Squire Templeman now proceeded te

 
  

exptore the cave, le
with Mattie, who insisted on going out immediately into the
open air. She often declared afterward that it was impossi-
‘ie to describe, and scarcely possible to c mecive, the sensations

 

  

 

aving Ben Bramble and Charley Vandai
Brae oe he oe, i My Pte lip co
R 8 rae mata Rh A ae NA

ee ee THE ALLENS. ; Ae

she felt on eine the heavens, the sun, and the | objects

on the earth after having been shut out from then for more —
than three months. She had seen nothing, during all that—

time, but objects under ground by the feeble light of a lamp.
The glare of the sun was intolerably dazzling ; every object”
looked large and bright, as seen through a solar microscope ;

and the air felt so light she almost thought it was lifting heg-

up from the ground. To breathe it, was a -positive, percepta-

ble enjoyment, like tasting a delicious fruit. The autumna —

woods presented a panoramic picture of God’s own painting,
so yivid and distinct that she wondered at and admired it, 2a
she supposed one translated to a newly-created and more
beautiful world would wonder at and admire it.

Sguire Templeman passed down the main passage of the
cave, and soon came to a large open space, fifty feet wide ana
a hundred or more in length before it became narrow again,
and the roof was a dome thirty feet above his head. Here he
found provisions for a dozen men, sufficient to last them three
or four months, and arms, guns, swords, pistols and knives,

Broken bottles, glasses, and playing-cards were scattered on —

the floor of solid rock. A long table ran half way througn
this room; toward the further end, on each side, were
truckle-beds or pallets on a plank platform; beyond these, on
one side, three feet above the floor, was a strong door fixed
in the solid rock, constituting the side wall of the cave.
There was a very large iron-guarded keyhole in this door.

“Here,” said Templeman, “ we shall find some of the secreta

of this cave. Joe Swinton, where is the key of this hole ?”
“ Forster keeps that himself.”

“ Very well, my men, we can somly open it. Give me a

tomahawk.”
“Here’s an an; sald one of the men; “we found it under

the old woman’s bed.”

The door was forced, and within there was barely room |
for a large, strong box of wood, which, when drawn ont, waa
found to have filled the whole cavity, and was itself nearly >:

filled with papers, neatly arranged in bundles and labeled. |

“ Let us pass on,” said the squire ; » “this is not all. Swit.
ton bas a department of his own in this thieves’ palace. He_

  

.

y

well knows that I am informed of the trede at which he
 
 

| EXPLORATION oF THE cavE

. ae This is not the first. ‘time em had to ap with that
 gentlemany Lead on.”
The cave became narrow and low, and descended ‘ocabes

: to the right. Here, at the bottom of a flight of rude steps, % z

_ they arrived at another door, which Swinton ert: unwil |
 tiug to approach.

_ “ Where’s the ax ?” said Templeman—“ unless deinen can
‘ sd the key.”

    
  

There was a pause of some seconds, when Templeman, <e

looking sternly at Swinton, said:

“ Surely you are not fool enough to suppose that any thing —
you can do or refuse to do will prevent me from seeing ss Rees

Kearching: that room, and every hole and cranny in thia
~ cave.”

“The key’s under that stone of the third step,” said Swin-

ton,

‘fhe door was opened, and the lights presented a strange
spectacle. Furnaces, sand, coal, moulds for melting, crucibles,
screws, bars of&maetal, dies, punches, bank-note plates, a mote

bench with a great.var iety of tools and several books; shelv

with bags of spurtogs coins, a quantity of bank-note paper =

different textures and qualities, and bundles of finished coun-
terfeit notes; vials and bottles of acids and other chemicals,
and in one corner a wardrobe and gentleman’s toilet, both of

which were well furnished. There was no avenue beyond, »

| but a tube with flexible joints was discovered entering the

wall. On examination, this was found to be an escape pipe
for smoke, which could be adjusted to any of the furnaces.

On returning to the mouth, the sides and floor were care-

fully examined, but no other apartment or avenue could. be e

_ discovered in the cave, It was thoroughly explored.

thing transportable on horses, were put into the emptied bed-

 

  
   
 
 
 

aecured, was mounted on a horse, with a strong arm behind

The contents of Forster’s box, the arms, and, indeed, every _

‘gacks—tools, money, and all—and the whole party marched ~
oat. Seven men, commanded by Chaney Vandal, wer lefl
91 watch to arrest any persons who might come to the cave,
They were to be relieved the next day. Joe Swinton, well —

nim. Polly M’Cloud war placed behind one of the men, and
Mattie rode behind the squire. The other men carrie tha ee

 
Saha om righ Re ghee = fae Sh St aa ok eS

we aa ane

 

-..” articles found in the cave on the horses of the men who were

» Jeft on watch, and away the party went, and arrived at Squire —

: Templeman’s just as the sun was descending below the w:
horizon. . fides

CHAPTER XIII.
LIGHT AT LAST.

On the arrival of the party at Squire Templeman’s, he
took proper measures for the safe-keeping of Joe Swinton and
_ Polly M’Cloud, and for the refreshment of the men. He held
' a sort of council of war with Ben Bramble and four or five
of the men who had served under him in the army, and two
or three active young men were sent off that night in different —
. directions, with letters and verbal orders. His daughter
Helen, filled with sympathy, exerted herself, by the kindest
_ words and the tendereat assiduities, to render Mattie comfort-.
able. Every thing on her toilet and in her wardrobe was
placed at her disposal with the most cordial, sister-like and
unostentatious kindness. To her inexpressible joy, Mattie
learned frem Helen the safe return of her brother from Ken-
_ tucky, his conference with his father, his journey to Virginia,
and his return; the discovery of the character of Isaac Fors-
ter as a Jand-agent, the sale of a little piece of land in Ken- |
 tueky by Harry, and the great value of her father’s lands, —
‘which Isaac Forster had represented as worth nothing. 23
“ How in the world,” said Mattie, “did you obtain all thie
happy news? They may be only reports, dear Helen. Ta ~
almost afraid to believe them, lest they should prove untrue.”
“Oh, they are true,” replied Helen, blushing deeply.
“Your brother called here on his way to Virginia to see papa —
0% business.” :
“ah! Helen,” said’ Mattie, “my brother keeps no secrets —
from me, and I know very well that the greater part of hia
business here was with a certain Miss Helen Templeman, —
whom he loves better eyen than this poor sister of his. Doo’t a

\

y
 
 
 

 

 

   

SQUIRE TEMPLEMAN 's LurrmR, Se
~ greak out he teeth of that comb, dear Helen, but help me to ee

_ uutangie my neglected hair with it.” -

_ Helen threw her arms around Mattie’s neck, and they wept
_ together, but not bitter tears. When they came out to supper,
_” their faces radiated with their great joy. a a
5 After supper, Squire Templeman retired to his chamber
and before day, his son George was in tbe saddle on the road
40 Lewisburg with the following letter te Tudge ——-,an old
gchoolmate and intimate friend of Templeman, who, the squire | >
_ knew, would be one of the judges of the Superior Court, the
session of which was to commence on the Monday folow —

ing : BES

. “ October 14th, 99, _
_ “Dear Jupex: One of those signal interpositions of Prove
_ dence, which are thought to be happy accidents, has just dis —

_ closed to us one of the most foul and base conspiracies that —
ever disgraced a civilized country. Miss Allen, the daughter
of Mr. Edward Allen, now in jail at Lewisburg, accused of
murder, whom we all believed to have been drowned acci-
 dentdlly on the evening of the day on which her father was
_ wrrested, is now in my house, rescued from a cave discovered — ;

by Ben Biamble, a hunter, an old and excellent soldier of
mine, And who, sir, do you imagine, could be the villain to _
plan and execute this outrage? No other than Mr. Isaac

 

   

Forster. The plax. was to induce her to marry him, in order _

to save the life of Ler father, and to cover the frauds of this

precious villain as a land-agent, by his becoming the son-in- _
_ law of the man whom he had deceived in regard to the value _
of large landed estates, and whose lise he had put in jeopardy
— {ndeed, it is very doubtful, from a forged will made for Mr. :
_ Allen found among Forster’s papers in the cave, if he had
succeeded, through the fears of the young lady for her father's
life, in inducing her to marry him, whether he would not still

have sacrificed the father in order to insure success to. hia a

ultimate design, the possession of the immensely valuable at
 tanded estate of Mr. Allen, But Miss Allen, with unparalleled

fortitude and constancy, supported by her unshaken depend- — :

; ence on her God, withstood all his threats, and rejected all hig —
proposals. And this is not all. In his den we found the —
notorious Joe Swinton, the counterfeiter, vith all his tools aud —

 

 
yee 4 TRE ALLENS,

ie epparatus; a siege supply of pide urms, “a cumnterfolt

 

_ Inoney, and a box of Isaac Forster’s papers, which prove hia ai

frauds and develop his designs. Who could have imagined “

that honest Isaac Forster was the captain and controller of

this gang of thieves? Yet so it is. I have secured Joe

fiwinton and an old weman, Polly M’Cloud, who, it would
eeem, has been the dupe, drudge and victim ratler than the |

accomplice of these men, There were none others in the cae

except Miss Allen when it was discovered; but I have take1, —
ieryrenes which, I hope, with your codperation, will succeed

in apprehending the rest of the gang.

“TJ send a warrant for the arrest of Forster; but, with all

due reference for your better judgment, an old soldier would
suggest that it would be better to have him watched day and
night by confidential persons, to prevent his escape, and not
to give him the slightest knowledge of what has transpired,

or that his villainy is known. Some of his associates in :

crime are no doubt wilh him, or within his call, and if he
were arrested they would instantly fly—escape themselves,

and give notice to the others that their den was discovered, x

and thus all of them would escape the hands of justice
Forster himself is one of the principal witnesses against Mr.

Allen. be
“Would it not be best to let him play the play out an

a witness, till it comes to the iast scene, that it may be thor- es 3
oughly understood what he is, and then arrest him.? J wilh

certainly be ready, in the neighborhood of Lewisburg, on
Morday, with Miss Allen, Joe Swinton, Polly M’CUloud and
Ben Bramble, to appear in court during: the trial, so soon ag
Forster’s testimony shall have been given. In regard to com-

municating these facts, and that his daughter still lives, to.

Mr. Allen baad his counsel, I leave the time and manner to 5

you, sir, confident I could not confide in an abler head or e

better heart. I should put the most ‘mportant racts in this

letter in the form ofan affidavit, if I did not knew that you | ;

will rely on any statement made by
tes “ Your old friend and obedient ser vant,

“ EDWARD 'TEMPLEMAN.
« Pp. B.---1 inclose several letters and papers for your in:

_eetim. My son George will hand you this, who will bear

 
 

UARTER’S LETTER.

to me any 2 Joiisipeiitsas you may be pleased to sain Bae
will recognize the handwriting of the inclosed letter, signed

Samuel Carter, ship-marked Liverpool. “ge Ile ae ees

“ To Judge ——, Lewisburg.”
"Fhe letéer alluded to in the postscript of Squire Temple-

man’s letter, read thus: es

s “ LIVERPOOL.

“ How is this, Isaac Forster? Have I been made the dupa _
as well as the instrument of your infernal wickedness ? ar
60, you shall pay a heavy reckoning. When I embarked for
this port, I carried on board several newspapers, which I did
not read till out at sea; among the rest the Alexandria Ga- —
cette, in Which there is an account of Job Terry, the poor ped-
dler, whom you made me believe that I had unfortunately
and unintentionally killed by a blow on the head with my
cane. So he was stabbed in two places, and these caused his
death, says the coroner’s inquest, and not the blow on the
héad. Thank God for that! It takes a heavy load from
my heart. Intoxicated, and angry as I was at bis accusing —
me of passing counterfeit money knowingly—which you well —

know I received from you—as God is my judge, I had _
no intention of injuring him seriously, much less of taking ©
his life. You have done this deed of murder, Isaac Forster;

for I know the man was dead before we left him, and you

urged me to fly for my life, which I did, till I put the ocear ©

_ between me and the officers of the law, who, I believed,
would soon be after me, Little did I think that you had
urged me on to chastise the peddler for his insolence, that
you might take his life in the dark; but I sce it all now,
plain enough. And that worthy, good gentleman, Edward
Allen, near whose house the deed was done, has been arrested —
for the murder! By the eternal God! if a hair of his head

is touched, and I live t- reach America, I will visit upon you

the vengeance you so ri¢hly deserve. I know that I have
been a wild and dissipatea scapegrace, but not the villain you
take me for, or would make me. So, beware, Isaac Forster,
of one who now krows you. SaMuEL, CARTuR.”
The judge, after reading these letters, communicated their

contents to Mr. Randolph, one of Mr. Allen’s counsel, a gen-

tieman distinguished as much for iega) ability aml eloyuence

 

4

1

4
f ‘Qe > Sco tee “
ey Me,

gs for courteous manners and all the social virtues Nae

visited Mr. Allen in the jail, and communicated to him the joy-
ful news of his daughter being alive and in safety, and the
certanty of his own acquittal. It was thought best that the —

 

\. etd

commonwealth’s attorney should know nothing of the discov: BY

eries, that the trial-of Mr. Allen might go on, in order to

- develop the conspiracy, detect all those concerned in it, anl

30 bring them and the counterfeiters to justice. Hence the
axtraordinary course of Mr. Allen’s counsel in the trial.

Omar it ay
THE TRAGEDY AT THE CAVE.

Arter Miss Allen’s deliverance, we need not say how
much it cost her to restrain her impatience to fly to the arma
of her imprisoned, unfortunate father. Yet she did restrain
it. The kind magistrate offered to her reason sufficieut mo-
tives to restrain the impulses of her heart He convinced
her that it was all-important, not only to the arrest of the
counterfeiters and of Isaac Forster, but to the honorable
acquittal of her father, that the discovery of the cave, and
her rescue, should be kept secret till the trial came on, and
all the evidence against him had been given, and Isaac Fors-
ter should be in the court-room when she made her unex-
pected and sudden appearance before the judge and jury.
She therefore remained at Squire Templeman’s till Saturday
morning, when, wider the protection of the squire, and ac-
compinied by his daughter Helen, she commenced her jour:
ney to the neighborhood of Greenbrier court“iouse. The old
soldier did not intend that she should enter the village or be
seen till the proper moment arrived, and he had made ar-
vangements to that vffect. The sheriff had been at his hruse
on Friday night, a
Joe Syinicn and Polly Cloud, ‘masked and guarded, had

“ been sent in the night to the neighbrhood of Lewishurg

Ben Bramble would have accompanied them, but he and Nav

te
 

EE Ne coe ak, ae x a “a Oe ae ae hind Se okies SE ge oi ther edad anal
y Lees ‘ , ant ee oe “ ee ee es
arms x

ea ORM VOR THE cavE

 

Col.y, with some ten stout i@untatnterty were orterel 1 by ting?
sheriff to relieve the party at the cave, and then Ben and Nat 4 -
were to follow the squire and Miss Allen in the evening. -

Before his departure for the cave, Ben went into the room —

ES _ where Mattie and Helen were sitting. Stepping up ‘te Mae &

tie, and taking her hand, he said: ~ Py.
«“ Keep a good stout heart, Miss Mattie. The devil’s sure
to git his own in the long run, ’specially them as courts ga's

agin their will, onder ground, or onder any kiver that <1’: x

the honest, fair thing. I'll see you agin Monday in tas
burg, if 80 be LT ibe. pity
Then turning to Helen, he said: “I know you'll ‘iatee: cara
of her, honey; she’s mighty ‘ike her brother, ain’t she?”
Helen blushed to the tips of her fingers. “ Well, well, don’t
mind me, Miss Helen, but keep Miss Mattie movin’. It’s the ca
best truck fer low sperrits that ever I tried—better nor any :
doctor’s means; I’ve tried it often, and I can sweat out more |
meloncholy varaditie? arter the varmints in these hills than ay fen
steam doctor in Old Virginny.” ae
" “ Good-vy, dear Ben,” said Mattie; “keep yourself out of
danger for my sake, who owe you so much, if not for your own.”
“Danger ?” said Ben; “ God’s everywhar. Them as sarves —
him is never in danger. You warn’t in no danger in that ai”
cave, though you mought think so, and your daddy’s in no

danger in Greenbrier jail. He that made this hound puppy,” —

said he, pointing to Kate, with her head in Mattie’s lap, “ can
deliver you, can bring him, your father, out as cl'ar as a
whistle. Kate's yourn, honey; Igive herto you toremember

me by; she valors you all but as fauich as I do. ‘OenaP .

Wye; my darters.” eet
So saying, Ben walked away, followed by his two: dogs, :
Captain and Rover. Kate had scarcely left Mattie’s side since . _
her rescue, and when the young ladies retired to their chambe)
at night, she insisted on staying in the room, and Helier
actually had a pallet prepared for her near the bed in whieh
she and Mattie slept. We must now leave them and thé
squire setting off to WNC and follow = relief-part y to

the cave.
“T'll tell you what it is,” said Nat Colly to Ben, ‘ “tvs hp
potion that if those sneakin’ rascals don’t come to tais den of

=

*,

 
ie ia ee : 3 aaa
108 rHE ALLENS. ee

’ thern to- day or to-night, they'll never come arterward, — Mr

Allen’s trial’s on Monday, and the evidence of Miss Allen ang

‘the rest that wer found thar will be known everywhar. Soma
on ’em will hear on it, and will know that ther iurkin’ place

_ has bin diskivered, and they'll make tracks like a wolf with
the dogs arter him."

“ That’s likely,” replied Ben; “yet I feel as if we was to

have a scrimmage with ’em; my mind misgives me, some
how, and although the law allows us to take’em any how,
yet we must manage to trap ’em without blood, Nat. J don’t
want the blood of a feller-cretur on my hands, though he be
first cousin to the devil himself.” ;

“Well, nor I nuther,” said Nat; “ but darn me if they shall
git away, if ever we lays eyes on ’em.”

“Tl tell you ‘how we can manage it,” said Ben. “Let —

Charley, if he will stay, watch outside with five men, and you
and I, and four of the other boys, will go in the cave. One
on us will take Joe Swinton’s place inside the door by the
lamp to give ther watchword—' What's the time o’ day ?}—and
_ the others go furder in, out on sight; so that, if so be they
should come in, we'll haye ’em between two forces; and when
we let em know that they ar in that fix, and no mistake,
they'll give up without a scuffle.”

“Maybe so,” replied Nat; “ but they are desperate villains,
_ I guess, and I don’t like the notion of settin’ down in a cave
by a lamp; it’s too much like watchin’ by a corpse—mon-
strous solumn, I tell ye, Ben.”

“ Well,” said Ben, “Vl take that upon me, and you and

; the boys can go furder in with the punk and the sulphur

- matches, and the lights that the squire gin us. The minit |
kick over the lamp onintentional by design, the boys outside
will rush up, and you can then let ’em know that they

are surrounded.”

The plan of operation was agreed to by the whole party |

when they got to the cave, and Charley Vandal consented to
stay, and go with Ben in the evening. Charley and five
others, after the rest had gone in, arranged every thing at
the meuth to look as it did when the caye was discovered,
- and then conces’=1 themselves in the ivy-bushes. Thus they
fe sained -y,. © o houra, when the quick ear of. one of tha

‘

>
 

 

eo
4

=,

 

“THE FATAL ALL. 3

men howd a sr jidhing in the water and soon after the ‘ow — 4

- murmur of voices coming down the little stream. Then all
was still again for a few moments, ari four men were seen —

Slowly and stealthily following each other in Indian: file up

- the path leading to the mouth of the cave. When the fore-
most was within twenty yards .of the mouth, he stopped til

ihe others came up, and turning to one of them, said :
“ [7s no use trying to persuade me, Obed. I’ll see Forster
‘4a fire before he shall use us so. None of the risk, and half

. the profits, Of the plunder we’ve got now, and that we shall

get for the last drove sent to Virginia to sell, he shall hays
his share, and no more; and if that is measured, Obed Staps —
ler, by the service he does us, it’s mighty small. He must

bring a wench, too; old Poll’s niece, he tells you. It’s alla

lie. She’s a geutlewoman; I kuow, and he'll bring sagan oD.
us, mind what I tel) you.”
“ But he signs al) the notes, and ae nobudy else can de

4 a replied Obed.

‘What of that ?” said tLe other man. “ He’s planning for

higaee!t I see that; and it he could make any thing by it, he . -
_ would hang every one of us”

“Ah! but,” said one of the ovhers, who had not ebotiens
before, “he’s as deep in the mud as we are in the mire, an@
he can’t sink us without drowning himself.”

“The devil he can’t!” replied the first speaker. “ Mp
name’s not Uriah Blixon, if he ain’t the wiliest old fex this
side the Alleghany. But T'll watch him pretty close, and if
he don’t walk as straight as a shingle, ’ put a ball through
him some of these days, blow me if I don’t, But what’s tha—
use of jawing? Let’s go in and tell Joe how handily we got
off his shiners, and what a fine lot of horses we've sent. into

. the old settlements for sale.”

Saying this, he stepped up to the mouth of the cave, anil

as he began to remove the brush, received the ace
Saige “ What's the time of day 3 ” : ‘

“ Four ovlock,” le replied. sbi.

As soon as Ben Bramble saw that they were fairly in tha

eave, he arose ‘o stumble over the lamp, as had been agreed _
on, The foremost of the counterfeiters, Uriah Blixon, catch.
ing a glimpse of his face as he turned, drew a pistol from his

dee

\

 
 
alg is : races:

‘Sr nae te we. i Ot wy
fas a ete god = Sho eae ‘

Co ee ALLEN

bosom, and tobias it at Ben vests fired instant,
claiming : =<

“All is up, boys! We are betrayed—this is not Soe a

Swinton.” 7

Ben reeled and fell, extinguishing the lamp with the blood
that gushed from his side, and expired without uttering a
groan. In a moment Charley Vandal and the men with hing
were at the mouth of the cave. He cried out: .

“ Surrender, or we'll shoot down every man of you.”

But the counterfeiters dashed on further into the pitchy
dsrkness of the cavern, the foremost calling out:
~ “Come on, boys; we can find our arms in the dark, and
then we'll give it to the deceiving dogs at the mouth, Jessey,
Tye fixed one of ’em.”

“ Will you?” shouted Nat Colly, from the dark recesses of

the cave. “Come on, then, like men,’
A blaze of light rose up before the advancing counterfeiters,
and revealed, not thirty yards from them, a body of men, with
rifles at their shoulders, marching toward them.
“We are trapped!” said Uriah Blixon, recoiling, and rap-—
jdly retreating toward the mceuth of the cave till they reached
the body of Ben Bramble.
‘The party in the cave followed close after them. As soon
as Nat Colly sav the body of his fallen friend, and a man,
with a pistol in his hand, looking back with a fiend-like scowl —
at him, he raised his gun and shot him through the head.
Uriah Blixon, half-uttering a blasphemous. yell, leaped high
in the: air, and fell beside the body of him he had. slain.
Twice the ruffian attempted fo rise, but he fell back, wallow-
ing in blood. The gurgling in his throat ee ceased, es
and he was dead. :

“ Shall we fire ?” cried Charley Vandal.

 

“Unless they surrender in one minute,” replied one of Nat

Cvily’s party,
We give up,” said one of the counterfeiters; “ we ave
mo arms.”
_“ Mareh out, then,” said Charley.
“ Won't you shoot us?” inquired the man.

* No,” answered Charley, “if you make no vedas ae

but Vu mt a bullet through the first man that raises his hand,

i : + ‘ i
 

2 ; ‘ ox. oa . ae od oF %
7 “DEEP sonnow ron THE BRAVE HUNTER. 108
Follow "em, Loys, out of the cave, and keep your” vifles Ao
cocked. gene

      

The three remaining ccunterfeiters marched out, dunely -

followed by all in the cave but Nat. They were tied, erie

and carried back into the cave.» The large torches which held 283

been lighted by the party who secreted themselves in the
nner part of the cave had been set up against the wails, and —
the long table at which the revels of the wild crew who ine —
habited the cave were held caught fire, and wreaths of flick-

ering flame were curling along the vaulted roof and up the gsr

side walls of the cavern. The dark-red glare, accompanied
by the fitful, hollow sound of the flames confined in the bow-
els of the earth, made a sublime spectacle. There lay, in
that red and lurid light, the body of Uriah Blixon, his glazed
eyeballs reflecting it, and his ghastly countenance still bearing
' the malignant scowl of hatred and revenge.. And there sat
Nat Colly, supporting on his lap the head of his lifeless
fviend. How different, even in death, the expression of that
mild, manly face! It was pale and placid as the face of a —
sleeping infant. Charley Vandal stooped over him and
said ; f ’
“Nat Colly, is there any hope?”

“No, Charley, he is gone—gone forever. It’s all over with sve

him The life’s clean out. Oh! Charley, I loved him like ©
a brother. Thar warn’t a braver nor a better man, nor a
xinder, truer heart in a human body than his’n. I coulda’s
“see him lyin’ here in his blood, and that villain thar, ‘that —
murdered him, standin’ over him with the pistol in his hand,

without shootin’ him down, as he desarved. I couldn’t stand :

it, and I didn’t.” oe
Too true it was, there was no hope. The noble spirit that

--gnee animated the body of Ben Bramble had fled. forever—to

the heaven of heavens, we verily believe— for his humanity,

“and the desire to spare the effusion of the blood even of the 3

wicked, had cost lim his life. Slowly and sadly they bore

his body from that fatal cave, and when the light of heaven

fell on the faces of his companions, it showed the traces of
‘many a tear that had welted their cheeks for the untimely
o a 20 of their friend, in that dreary abode.

mugs there is but little outward semblance of tenderness ,

.

 

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Pes ene
 

; ME Sant Dict ye oe RN ES tee
i \ Fie

ee atin See AURM  ii> case

ea

 

and enna about aoughi woodsmen sa dl they, sine: ‘ -
hearts that feel as deeply and as poignantly both joy and sor
owas do those of the most refined and cultivated. Their
perilous pursuits and common dangers—their urgent need of . —
each other’s assistance in times of trial—their rude but hearty —
 enjoyments in camp after the dangers, toils and labors of the
day—all beget a kindliness of feeling that rarely exists in the
game vigorous and lasting degree among the dwellers a :
towns and cities. Zo
‘Deeply did Charley Vandal and Nat Colly feel the death’
of their fallen comrade, and gentler hearts and more refined —
natures, too, wept most bitterly. the untimely and Sielgat
death of Ben Bramble. ;

CHAPTER XIV.
THE SCENE IN COURT.

RETURN with us now, gentle reader, to the court-house in
Lewisburg. ~The excitement preduced by the appearance of
Miss Allen, thought to be among the dead, was so great
that the business of the court was temporarily interrupted.
When her bonnet and vail fell off, as she threw herself on the
neck of her father, Isaac Forster was still sitting on the win- —
dow-sill. The instant he saw her face he attempted to throw. -
himself out of the open window, but was seized and pinned
down to his place by the young men sitting beside him.
What pencil can paint, what pen describe the horror-stricken
countenance of this man! He was seen to be agitated ag
Templeman, and those with him, entered the door, and strai:-
ing his eyes to get a sight of the faces of the females, The
men held him firmly by his arms, and one of them said td
him in an undertone, “The warrant to take you, sir, is in—
my pocket.” It now+for the first time flashed across his
mind that he had been watched and,guarded by these two
men for several days; that, in fact, he had been a prisoner,
though at large, and apparently free. The horrib'e truth,
{a all its appalling magnitude, now burst upon his goul-~

-
  

 

ad

r

PRL NS VORSTER UNMASKED.

 

“that hie guilt, in its great enormity, had ‘ities discovered, wae se

known, and that the toils of the law, unseen and unsuspected,
_ had encircled and were ready te stush him, like the coils of

* the bea-constrictor around the boay of a ti veler fallen oie :

fu the woods. —

_ It was impossible to look upon the gailty wretch atwal
thuddering. His trembling shook the very seat to which he
was held. His whole face was ghastly pallid, his lips of a

leaden hue ; his forehead was contracted into knotted cords,
and his bloodshot, quivering eyes seemed as if they would

_ start from their sockets as he kept them fixed on Mr. Allen

~ and his daughter. At last Mattie raised her head from her

father’s bosom, and, with the big drops still falling on her
cheeks, seemingly unconscious of all but his presence, she —
said:

“Oh, my dear and only parent, could you, did you, ever
harbor the thought that 1 had deserted you in your sore dis-
tress ; that, forgetting all I owed you of duty—all I felt for
you of that iove which my tongue knows not how to utter—_
ail I owe to our heavenly Father—that I could have lost my
faith and trust in Him, and had rushed unbidden into his holy
presence? Oh, my father, could you for one moment think
that your daughter had been guilty of self-destruction—had _
thrown herself into the river ?”

“ Never, my dear child—never. I knew—I felt, that it could

- not be so. I believed that you had accidentally fallen into
_ the river. In all my afflictions, I have never suffered the pang

that such a thought would have cost me. And I have been
supported by that arm which has been outstretched for yout
aeliverance and mine, confident if, in the mysterious but all- :
wise and merciful providence of God, I was to suffer the
penalty of the law—an ignominious death—for a crime which

-my soul abhors, and of which I would not have been guilty

tor all that this earth can offer, that we should only the sooner

iaeet in our heavenly Father’s kingdom, and there find your

esinted mother, who has gone DEER us to that blessed

, abode.”

‘Mattie turned her face towara the sateen as if to get a

, breath of air. Her eyes fell on Isaac Forster; she shrunk

| a beck, and exclaimed o

\
— ie ’ 1 =} ae s. oa AED. oe .
108 Be aes Pik ADDENS.

8 Oh, take him ee There i is s the. man that dragged n me

off.”

“Yes,” said Templeman, losing his patience, and haegtstiog
that he was in the presence of a court of justice, pointing with
his finger at Forster, who shrunk back as if it had been a
dagger, “ there ts the man—no, not a man—a monster in human
form—a counterfeiter—a robber—a murderer—who stole ant
nprisoned the daurhter, and would have hung her fatleag:!

 

Before he could say more, the. cry arose : pag <2

“Haul him out! Tear him in pieces !”
“Sheriff,” said the judge, “look to the safety of Isaac

Forster; he is in the hands of the law. Let not a hair of his 7

head be touched. Captain Templeman, go to the door and ©

speak to the people.”
Squire Templeman’s words fell on the ears of the stormy

multitude like oil on the troubled waves of the ocean. When —

he ceased speakitg, all were still for a moment. The voices
of the people were hushed, and there was heard, “ He is right ;
we wrong.” The people were satisfied to let the law take its
course. Order was restored, and the court proceeded with
the trial of Edward Allen.

A nolle prosequi was entered in the case of Polly M’Cloud.
She was sworn, and proceeded to give her testimony. In
doing this, it was found utterly impossible to confine her to

materiul or legal evidence. The judge and the lawyers were —

fairly forced to let Mrs. M’Cloud tell her story in an own
way.
The material part of her testimony was, that Miss Allen -

mt

was brought inte the eave by Isaac Forster and’ another man _

whom she did nut know. That Forster made her go out of

the room occupied by Mattie and herself several times, and —

that she, by laying her head against the rock, could hear every

word that was said by them. ‘That Forster persuaded Misa —
Allen to marry him, and said that, by doing so, she could

pave the life of her father; that her father did not kill Job —

Terry; that he knew who did, and could clear him if she —

would marry him; that if she did not, her father should die,
and then “ she should be his’n any how, and should er and
ie in the cave.”

“ Miss Allen,” said Polly M’Cloud, “ wouldn't hear to hima

Jy,

 

4
a
3s
4
4
j
x

<P ee a

0 MADTTR’S NARRATIVE,
I wonder the poor cretur warn’t scared into takin’ bim for a
husband, and savin’ her daddy’s life; for Mr. Forster’s a right

likely man to look upon, and mighty rich, they say; if he had —

®@-courted me as strong as he did her, I don’t know what | —
shoul? have done but give up. Yit I don’t believe in him,’

a [has my reasons for tt.”
_ Miss Allen was then sworn. The judge said to her: “ Be
semposed, young lady, and state te the jury the circumstances

sf your abduction, and whatever é63e may be connected with —

it.”

We shall not attempt to follow her through the whole of —

her touching and pathetic narrative, but will give its brief

‘outlines. She stated that, previous to her father’s arrest,

Forster had made advances to her that could not be misun-

- derstood; that on the day on which Job Terry, the peddler,
-was at her father’s house, Forster had formally proposed to

her; that she had promptly, and perhaps indignantly, rejected
his proposals, and requested him never again to mention the

 gubject to her. He seemed to be very angry: “ And as I left

the room,” said she, “he made use of this expression, with a

very marked emphasis: ‘ You will repent this, Miss Allen.’ —

He went away from my father’s about the dusk of the

bvening.”

 
  

ry

+

When her father was arrested the next day, she had .

remained in her chamber till late in evening, and then sought
relief to her agonized feelings and fevered frame by walking
on the bank of the river, where she was in the habit of walk-
ing, in front of the house. She had scarcely reached ‘the bank
when she was seized, and a bandage drawn over her mouth
and eyes. In vain she struggled and attempted to scream,

shore. Then the sound of the oars ceased. She hear€ whis-

pering. The boat seemed to turn round. Her bonnet and —
one of her shoes were taken off. She thought she felt the —

boat strike the shore, an@ immediately afterward she heard

‘She was hurried into a boat, and rowed rapidly from the —

the words, “That will do; they'll know she’s drowned, or —

think so, at any rate.” Again the oars were rapidly plied.

Some person held her down in the boat, and something, which — |
lt like a blanket, had beca thrown over her head and shoul-

ders. In a short time the boat struck the shore again, aud

*

qe
et ea

ono THE ALLENS, ee

there was "whispering. She heard the ilen “Bring the” 7

horses close to the boat.” She was taken out and placed on
a horse on a woman’s saddle, with some j,erson behind her,
- who held her on; the horses—for she could hear the feet of
-two—were put in rapid motion, which continued for a long
time—several hours, she supposed. Exhausted, and in a state
almost of stupor, she was lifted from the horse and placea

upon the ground. The horror ofler situation was now made

known to her by hearing the voice of Isaac Forster as he took
the bandage from her eyes and mouth.
“T told you, Miss, that you would repent of your refusing
me.”

 

7

“T screamed,” said Mattie, “ and he said, ‘ Scream away, if 4

that will do you any good; none but bears and wolves can

hear you in this place.” It was so dark I could not see any

object. Forster sat down by me, while the other man kindled
a fire. I then saw that I was under the shelf of a large
impending rock. That I survived the agonies of that night
and the succeeding day, during which they remained there

<=

till after dark, I can attribute to the sustaining hand of God _

alone. My brother far away from home, ignorant of the
calamities that had fallen on us; my father in prison, accused

of a terrible crime ; and I—I was in the hands of ruffians, far -

from all human help. Oh! sir, no tongue can tell what I
suffered. They offered me food; but the very attempt to
swallow a mouthful, had I made it, would have choked me.
Strange as it may seem, in the course of that, dreadful day I
slept—I must have slept, for I suddenly felt refreshed, and
drank a large draught of water that was offered tome. As

soon as it was dark I was again placed on a horse as before,

and how long or how far I was carried I know not; it was
still dark when I was lifted from the horse, and I think twenty.

6

4

minutes must have elapsed before they forced me along on

fvot in the water for some distance, and then up a steep hill

through thick bushes. Forster then said to me, ‘ You are at : i

home now.’”

“T heard somebody speak, as if from out of the earth, and
then I found myself in a room lighted by a lamp, ant this
woman, Mrs. M’Cloud, was sitting on a stool near the lamp.
Looking at me steadily for some time, she said :

7

a
  
 

 

ae os
te

xerm's memuon AL

“Tsaac’s a liar; this here gal’s a lady. Well, he dece:ves i: ‘% |
‘everybody, even me; he'll get deccived himself some of these

‘jmes.”

«Trust me for that, you old hag,’ he replied, from the out

gide of the door. ‘Mind your own business, or remember?
“ She shook her head and replied to him, ‘T hear.

“« feed me, then,’ he said, ‘or you will never see the out :

ride of this cave. You shall never leave it, living or dead.

“<T know that, she said; ‘you needn’t tell me I can’t he~s

myself if I would, any more than this poor young lady.’

“J threw myself, or rather fell, on a pallet bed, covered my
face, and sobbed aloud. My heart was full to bursting; I
could hardly breathe, and felt as if I should suffocate every
instant. This woman, who has treated me as kindly as she
knew how, I believe, got up and offered me some kind of

spirits, saying it would do me good; but I did not raise my

head.

“«Well, well, said she, ‘you'll come to it whether or no, I
guess; grief and sorrow make mighty thirsty feelings.’

“ How long I remained in that room in the cave I do not

‘know. Forster frequently came into the room, ordered Mrs.

M’Cloud out, and urged me to marry him, always saying that,
if I would, he could save my father’s life and free his reputa-
tion from the stain that would rest on it; that my father was
in his power, but that, if I did not yield to his proposals, my
father should die the death of a murderer, although not guilty
of the crime; that he knew who killed Job Terry, and meant
to make his death answer his own purposes; and that, if I

did not agree to marry him in a short time, which he said he
gave me for reflection, I should never again see the light ae
day—should never leave the cave; and, moreover, that he

would force me to marry him so soon as I had permitted my
father to die, when I had the power to save him by consenting
to become his wife. Hard was the trial and sore the conflict,

~

and bitter the thought that my father must die, but I knew »

and felt that I was not permitted to do evil that good might
come of 11; that the blessing of God can not rest on actions
that he has forbidden, no matter to what end they are per-
formed, J was supported and sustained under all these trials,
~Abanks, everlasting thanks to my heavenly ¥Vather, as T was

 
We THE ALLUNS.

~ yescued from that dreadful place. How that was accumplished
“this excellent gentleman,” said she, turning to Squire Temple
man, “to whom I owe so much, and Bee Bramble, my kind
and brave friend, can best inform you.” ‘

Her narrative being ended, Squire Templeman stepped up
to the clerk’s table to be sworn, when the clatter of horses’
feet were heard approaching the court-house.

“ Make way, make way,” was heard at the door, and two
young men rushed up the steps and into the hall. All eyea
were on them except those of Mr. Allen and his daughter, who
seemed to hear and see nothing, so much were they absorbed
and overpowered by the intense feelings excited by Mattie’s
recital. The taller and more robust of the two young men

_ advanced rapidly toward the clerk’s table, and said, address-
‘ing the judge:

“Danger, imminent danger to the life and honor of a gen-

_ tleman, my friend, must plead my apology, your Honor, for
the abrupt—”

_ A loud scream interrupted the iegiouliaes At the first tones

of his voice, Mattie sprung to her feet, caught a glimpse of

his face, screamed, and fell fainting on the floor. In an instant

the stranger reached the spot where she lay, and raised her

head, Slowly she revived, and rising up, a deep blush

suffused her face and neck as she said:

“Oh! Victor, have you come to behold my father’s—” Zn

“ Yes, dearest, I am here, thank God, to behold your father’s
triumphant vindication of his life and reputation ; I am here

- to prove his perfect innocence by the most positive and irre-
_ fragable evidence. Where is the monster who wove this web
_ of villainy and crime? Where is Isaac Forster?” —
He pronounced the words with an emphasis so strong, and
_ an intonation so deep and thrilling, and imperative, that the
wretched villain started up mechanically, and answened ; '
“ Here yY .
All eyes were turned upon him. Ifis own were fixed on
. Bamuel Carter, for he it was who had entered the court-house
with Victor Carrington. Forster was blasted and withered
by the vision. If the earth had yawned and a spirit from the
vaaty deep had stood before him to drag him down to perdi
‘tioa, he could not have exhibited a more terror-strickes
   
 

A

* 7 pe ee : “ a" ae ” ae: hs ae ‘ay aig . REE eter
~ E ae )  e bRANe ied asec peste

 

appearance, His fate was sealed forevat. Ile. koew it, he”
felt it, he looked it; and all who beheld him could. see. ‘ite
deep, dark, | ‘indelible stamp upon the wretc: 3 face. “These
_ startling occurrences had interrupted the business of the coarte

Squire Templeman at last said:

_“ There wil. be no occasion now, I believe, may it please
the court, for my testimony. There is a witness in court, =
understand, ‘who has just arrived, whose evidence is of great
importance.”

Mc. Wickham said to the clerk, “ Swear Samuel Carter.”

Our readers will no doubt recollect the contents of his
‘etter to Isaac Forster. We have further to add, to account —
for his sudden reappearance, that falling sick, nigh unto death, — ‘
in Liverpool, Carter had sought the ear of a young American
staying at the hotel, and to him confided the facts of his crim-
inality. That confidant was Victor Carrington, just returned

from his Highland tour, Though almost paralyzed atthe —

thought of the danger impending over Mr. Allen, and deeply |
moved at a knowledge of the position in which his beloved
Mattie must, be placed, he acted with such terrible energy that,
ere a day had passed, he was flying over the sea in a specially-
chartered, fast-sailing ship, bearing with him the wretched
young man, Carter, as the living witness of Mr. Allen’s inno-—
cence. The vessel arrived safely at Richmond ; when, taking
horses, the two young men hastened over the mountains to
the rescue, fearing every little delay would render it too laie
to save the innocen: and punish the guilty.

They reached Lewisburg only a moment before that ae
appearance in the court room, ignorant, entirely, of the true
state of the case. eve?

The statements of Carter it is unnecessary to repeat. From
them it was evident that Forster himself had killed. Job Taey+
be orly additional fact which he stated was the pains Fors~
ter took to incense him against the peddler on. the day. before
his murder. £

The reader will now readily imagine, what was really, true, :
that Isaac Forster had determined to biing Mr. Allen’s life
into jeopardy, in order, through her, fears, for her father’s. life,
to obtain the hand of Mattie, and then, deceiving her, to cause,

{i possible, his condemnation sik execution. While sitting ia
es

,
om
~ a7
f

‘

, Add ‘THE ALLENS. Ses “55 ee
the porch, Forster had heard the peddler, when going away —
ud meeting Mr. Allen in the yard, ask him, in a low voice, -

to give him notes for specie, which it was inconvenient and
attended with more risk to carry in any considerable quantity;
had seen them go together into Mr. Allen’s chamber, ang
heard the peddler, on coming out, address Mr. Alien with,
“Much obliged to you, sir;” had there formed his horrible
plan—had taken the dirk from the mantelpiece and secreted
it. Accident, too, favored his designs, for Mr. Allen’s hand+
kerchief had fallen from his pocket, and was picked up by
Forster near the yard gate as he departed on his murdercus
errand.

_ After Samuel Carter had given his evidence, Mr. Randolph
stated that he thought it entirely unnecessary to call any other
witnesses, and inquired of the commonwealth’s attorney if he
intended to argue the case.

“No, sir,” said he, “I abandon the prosecution, perfectly
satisfied of the innocence of Mr. Allen.”

Mr. Randolph made a few eloquent remarks on the extraor-
dinary nature of the case, and concluded by remarking that, —
in the whole course of his practice, no case had occurred in
which the chain of circumstantial evidence against the accused
had been so strong as in this; yet an overruling Providenze,
to justify the ways of God to man, had demolished and broken
to atoms every link at one blow; had defeated and exposed
a deep-laid and desperately dark conspiracy by the most

os humble and artless means—the attachment of a faithful hound,
‘Let no man hereafter flatter himself that crime can be con-
‘eealed, or that the criminal can ultimately escape ; and let no
“man, who is really guiltless, ever despair of honorable acquittal,
tif he believes and confidently trusts in the providential care
of the great Father of light, the Christian’s God.
The judge said to the jury, “Are you prepared to render
your verdict, or will you retire ?”
_-‘The jury rose to their feet, and the foreman said : é
: “ We are preparsd now, sir. We find Edward Allen Mos
— Guilty
Mr. Allen was instantly discharged; the court adjourned,
and the hall rung with acclamations. Forster, strongly guarde@
‘and attended by Squire Tempieman to the door of ‘> o<igen,

 
 
 

 

 
“ae Fat “ES. eee

“SPECTER-HAUNTRD,

 

was locked in, and armed men were stationed arownd the jail
As the judge, the awyers, Mr. Allen, bis son and daughter, —
Victor Carrington, Miss Templeman, and her father, attended —
by a numerous party of friends, passed through the crowd to
the principal inn of the village, the shouts of the people man-_
-Mested their joy at the acquittal of the innocent, and the tri-
«mph of truth and justice. . / 1

1

CHAPTER XVI.
THE END OF THE UNRIGHTEOUS.

Arter the thrilling excitements of the day, silence and
repose rested upon the village of Lewisburg. Night over-
shadowed the earth. No sounds were heard in the street,and
sleep had closed the eyes of all, No, not of all; there was
one who slept not. The burning lava of thought overwhelmed —
his doomed and guilty soul. From him sleep fled affrighted,
and repose came not near. In the darkness of the night he ~
couid see, as he sat alone in the jail—could distinctly see, the —
form of him whom he had murdered, standing out from the
wall before him. The eyes were glaring upon him in glazed
and startling brightness. Grinning, gibbering specters pointed
their long and Qjpody fingers at him, and laughed with horri-—
ple, soul-freezing malignity. In vain did he often change his
position and look to another side of his cell; still the appall-
ing form was before him. Look where he would, there—there
it was—the eyes dilated, and fixed upon his with burning
fatensity. Nearer and nearer they seemed to approach him. —
In the phrenzied ‘agony of his soul, he arose and paced the
rovum ; his knees knocked together, and the big dreps of yer-
gp.ration started from his face. The spectral form descended
fina the wall and confronted him at every turn. He stopped
as i. a swiden thought had crowsed his mind, He looked up
to the low ceiling, then mounted on the stool on which he had —
been sittirg, and groped about with his cold, clammy, trem. —
bling hands. He then got down, went to the narrow-barreq
6 ape ee ae To ALLENS.

Bh: eaian aia seemed to be nstenmng, as if ‘i were quae x4

ae

Cad Me ha?

(‘% aoe oF pclae es MEE

  

sive of being seen or heard. In the morning, when the jailer Hf

- ppened the prison door, he found Isaac Forster a ghastly, stark,

and livid corpse, sushended by the neck from the ceiling of a
the cell. He had, with his teeth and hands, rent his hander oa

-ghief into shreds, twisted them into a cord, and, mounted oa

the stool, had broken a hole through the ceiling, and passed _
the cord around a joist, from which he had swung himself _
into eternity. “The righteousness of the perfect shall direct

_bis way, but the wicked shall fall by his own wickedness. |

The righteousness of the upright shall deliver them, but trans-
gressors shall be taken in their own naughtiness. When a
wicked man dieth, is expectation shall perish, and the hope
of unjust men perisheth. The righteous is delivered put of |

- trouble, and the wicked cometh in his stead.”

An examination of the papers of the guilty suicide diaciaadd
the many artful and monstrous frauds which he had perpe-
trated, and more still which he intended to commit. The —
forged will of Mr, Allen, with the places of the date left blank,

and the vial of ink to fill the blank, labeled, “ For Allen’s will,”

was only.one among several others. Almost. every man whose
agent. he had been, it was now ascertaived, had suffered from
nis perfidy and cunningly-contrived frauds ; and it was most
remarkable, that not one of these was so much benefited by
the discovery of his evil deeds as the man whom he intended

most deeply to injure, and even to destroy—Mr. Edward —

Allen. The lands which had been collusively sold and recon-
veyed to Isaac Forster were all recovered. hese Mr. Allen
transferred to the merchants from whom he derived his title
to the lands, So great was their value, that the proceeds of
their sale not only relieved Smith and Bird, Buchanan and
Alexander from all their embarrassments, but left them ins
easy circumstances.
The rogues captured suffered the ct of their crimes, —
Cbed Stapler never ceased to mourn the wretched luck that
be had not “knocked off” with his last drove of horses, when _
he “could have moved off to the West and become a respect.
able man!” He ever regarded himself as the victim of unpro _
pitious circumstancesy
Swinton was a gesearaee to the last His remarkable tach

{

Se |

 
 

aT rength enabled him to escape from jatt aud to push sa 3
way down the Kanawha for Kentucky; but, the remains of a

| man found drowned below the falls, having shackles on one ee

leg, proved that life for him was closed—that his wild soul —
had gone upon the untried realities of the Judgment of a higher
Court than man’s.

Simpson, the liquor-dealer, had been very kind to those vef ‘
tn charge of the New Hope property after Mr. Allen’s arrest,
- The consciousness of his bad calling came over him to his own

good, and he was only too glad to avail himself of Mr. Allen’s —
offer of a piece of land, which he cultivated with success,
while his children grew up to respectability.
_ Samuel Carter lived upon New Hope as overseer and —
director, for many years, a faithful agent and perfectly respon-
sible man. He never ceased to be the most vigilant and
uncompromising enemy of intemperance in all its forms.

“CHAPTER XVII.
A LIFTING OF THE SCENES.

*Toucu us gently, Time!” It is a sweet and pathetic rea,
vu. 80 often made, but oh, so often made in vain.

New Hope indeed was favored. The trials of a year
brought forth the blessings of many years. Mr. Allen
— recovered his old elasticity of spirits, and seemed to have
become the strong man of forty instead of the worn out maa

of sixty. Around him were such associations as could but

~ make him “renew his youth.”

A splendid mansion soon sprung up from a commanding
site on New Hope, from which the vision could for miles
‘atretch away over that magnificent valley in which the river
lay like a great silver thread tying the east and the west
together. Upon a superb site, not two miles away, stood forth
anocher stately building with an observatory, from which to

view the valley beneath. In the first dwelt Mr, Allep and hig —
A a ei at no longer maiden, but matron, the wife of
 

Victor Carrington and the mother of his two fine children,
Edward Allen Carrington and Helen Temp-eman Carrington. —
The mother was grown into grace and beauty by her womanly —
development, and if once winning, was now become truly |
superb in her loveliness, She was the veritable queen of ©
beauty in the Kanawha- ;
_ In the other building dwelt Harry Allen and his Helen, now
kis wife and the mother of two fair boys and one girl—all |
“pictures of their mother.” They were hamed Victor,
Edward and Mattie—the first called “the Captain,” in honor
of his grandpa Templeman, whose silver locks now graced -
the head of the family table at the new homestead. Se os
Among these moved old Uncle Tom—one of the happiest
of aged servants, whose greatest delight was to “tend to de-
young chicks.” And the “young chicks” found in him a_
brave, intelligent and watchful guardian whom they all loved —
with true heartiness. The old man had one unfailing theme
with which to command the attention of the little folks—that
of the “awful days ob de great sorrow.” He seemed to live
as much in the past as in the present, and many an hour did
the good old soul spend away in the quiet haunts of the estate
“just to tink ober t’ings,” as he said. Massa Ben Bramble
was, in his mind, one of those great land-marks, which light
men on to heaven. The grave of poor Ben found ny more
sacred worshiper than the old slave.
_ Let us lift the scene one October day—the sixth anniversary
of the deliverance from prison.
On the grass, at the New Hope mansion, lies the little Vic-
tor, rolling over and over with Kate, the old hound, who hag
found in him her third master. It was a joyous scene, but
they had it all to themselves; for the ebild’s mother had wan. _
dered away down to an inclosure near the river's side, within
which arose a pure white marble column, twelve feet in height.
Others soon joined her there, and ere long, all the family were
circled around the spot, including the family of Harry. Then’
Mr. Allen said: “Let us give fuanks to God for his goodness —
and loving-kindness to us an@:4o all men.” Every attendant
knelt, while out on tle sward gathered “ the help,” who also.
_ knelt in silence. Then there went up to the throne of grace
‘a touching prayer of faith and thanksgiving, such as could

|

 
 

THE TOMB OF THE HUNTER

oly come ‘rom hearts of those born to honor and truth It_
was ended; fair flowers were thrown in upon the mound |
within, and each eye held a tear for the one buried there. Aa —
the circle breaks away in respectful silence, we steal up to tha —
Iuclosure to read on the base of the shaft, while the hound —

trouches whining at our fect:
sACRED

TO THE MEMORY OB
Sun Brame
   

‘Standard

nos. 1 TO

~

  

do TO 80 POPULAR DIALOGUES AN

     

 

me Si : F
INCLUSIVE. | _ 2 me ee

D DRAMAS IN EACH BOOK, —

17

For School Exhibitions and Parlor Entertainments,

 

 

HEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLIS!1£KS, NEW YORK.

 

 

Each volume 109 12mo pages, sent post-paid on receipt af price, ten cents.

These volumes bave been prepared with especial reference to their availibility for Exhibitions, —

adapted to x¢hools and parlors with or without the furniture of as

being
ARS AN

*t wit, pathos, humor aud sentiment.

YOUNG PEOPLE of every age, both male and temale, Itis fair to aseume
‘other books in the market, at any price, comtain so many useful and ayailable dialogues

tage, and suited to SCHOL¢

a

DIME DIALOGUES, No, 1.

Meeting of the Muses, For nine young ladies.

 

Hobnobbing. For five peakors.

Suiting a Live lishman. For three boys. |The Secret of Suesess, Kor thr

aaas ee For male and feel. Young America, T es and two females,
fashion. For two ladies, JJosepiine’s Destiny, Four females, one male.
The Rehearsal. For six bo The Folly of the Duel, For three male speakera,
Which will you Choose 4 Por two boys. Dogmatism. Yor male 3) ers. :
The Queen of May. For two little girls. The Ignorant Confounded,. Vor two boys. *

’ The Tea-Party. For four ladies. The Fast Young Man. For two males,

Three Scenes a Wedded Life. Male and female.jThe Year’s Reckoning. 12 females and 1 male,

Mra. Sniffles’Confession. For male and female.
Tho Mission of the Spirits, Five young ladies.

DIME DIALOGUES No, 2.

The Genius of Libe
Cinderella ; or, the
Doing G
The Golden Rule,

rty. 2 males and 1 female,
Little Glass Slip;

Two males and two females.
The Gift of the 7 Queen. Several females.
Taken in and Done For. For two characters.
The Country Aunt’s Visit to the City. For sev-
era) characters.
The Two Romans, For two males,
Trying the Characters. For three males,
he Happy Family. For several ‘animals.’
The Rainbow, For several characters.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 3,

The May Queen, For an stirs school,

Dress Reforin Convention, For ten females.
Keeping Bad Compony. A Farce. For five males
Courting under Difficulties. 2 males, 1 female.
Nutional Representatives, A Burlesque. 4 males.

Eseaping the Draft. For numerous males,

DIME DIALOGUES No. 4.

The Frost King, For ten or more persons.

Starting in Life. Three males and two females,
Faith, as and Charity. For three little girls.
Darby and Joan. For two males and one fomale.
The aes Floral Fancy. For six little girls.
The Enchanted Prineess. 2 males,several females

Honor to whom Honor is Due, ‘I males, 1 female
She Gentle Client. For several males, one female

urenology. A Discussion. Fer twenty males,

DIME DIALOGUES No. 5.

The Three Guesses. For schord or parlor.
Sentiment. A ‘Three Perso?” Tee
Behind the Curtain. For ml es and females.
The Eta Pi Society, Five boys and a teacher.

Examination Day. For several female characters,

Trading in ‘ Traps.’? For several males.

The School Boys’ Tribunal, For ten boys.

A Loose Tongue. Several males and females.
How Not to Get an Answers For two females,

DIME DIALGSULS No. 6.

The Way they Kepta Secret. Male and females.
The eskandar Difficulties. For five males,
William Tell, For a whole

oman’s Rights.

Generous Jew. For six males.
. For threo females and one male,

Py
and Saying Bad, Ravenc.abukinde A Sensation

Seven females and two males,
All is notGold that Glitters. Male and females,

fhe Village with One Gentleman, For eight fo
males and one male, .

How to Write ‘Popular’? Stories. Two males,
The New and the Old. For two males.

at Last, Fortwo males. ©
The Greenhorn. For two males, (2 :
'The Three Men of Science, For four mates,
The Old Lady’s Will, For four males, _ ;
The Little Philosophers. For two little girls.
How to Find an Heir, F males,

‘

‘or five
The Virtues. For six young ladies, re
A Connubial Eslogue. ies :
The Public Meeting, Five males and one femay _
The English Traveler. For two males, :

‘The Genteel Cook. For two malee. 5 -
Masterpiece. For two males and two females,
The Two Romans. For two males. ;

The Same, Second scene. For two males,
|Showing the White Feather. 4 males, 1 female, '
The Batéle Call, A Recitative. For one male,

 

The Stubbletown Volunteer. 2males,1 females —
A Scene from “ Paul Pry.’’?. For four males.
The Charms. For three wales and one fe

Bee, Clock and Broom. For three little girls.

What the Ledger Says. For
er td

. ; nevolences
The fetter For two males.

wr. Hor ty boy ‘te
or four malede

i

Putting on Airs, A Colloquy. For two males,
The Straight Mark. For soveral boys, 2
Two Ideas of Life, A Colloquy. For ten girls,
Extract from Marino Faliero, a -
Ma-try-Money, An Acting Charade.

The Six Virtues, For six young ladies. —

The Irishman ut Home. Fortwomales,
Fashionable Requirements. For three girls, =
A Bevy of 1's (yes). Koreight or less little girla,

The Two Counselors, For three males, —_-
The Voturies of Folly. Fora number of fema’
Aunt Betsy’s Beaux. Four females and

The Libel Suit. 1or two females and
Santa Claus, Fora number of boys,
Christmas Fairies. For several little girle,
The Three Ringa.s For lwo males. ,

 

 

 

The Right Way, A Golloquy. For two boys.

twomales, —
woal@
oe x S ' i

Dime Schou, werise~Dinlog acs. } s ei S ese

“eet 2 — re Cae os Tae. ove
aa . I on iy oe

DIME DIALOGUES Mo, 7.

Fer fourteen females.

_ The Twe 13,
The Karth-Child im Vairy-Land. Yor girls.

Twenty Yoars Hence. Trro females, one male.
‘Lhe Way to Wiedham. For tro males.
Woman. A Pootic Paseage at Werda. Two boys.

The ’Ologies, A Colloquy. For two males,

How to Get Rid of a Bore, For several boys,
Boarding-School. Two males and two females,
Piea for the Pledge. For two inales,

‘Yaw lls ef Dram-Drinking. Fo> three boys.
True Pride. A Colioquy. For two females,
$se ‘we Lecturers, or numerous males; ~

T.zo Views ef Life. Colloquy. For twe femsales,
The Rights of Music. For twe females.

A Hopeless Case. A Query in Verse. ‘we girla
Tha Would-be School-Teacher. For twe maleq —
Come to Life too Soon, Fer three ma

Kight O’clock, For swo little girls..

‘Lrue Digmty. A Colloquy. For twe heya i
Grief too Expensive. For two males. ib
Hamle! and the Ghost. For twe persona, - ¢
Little Red Riding Hood. For two females.

(New Ap lication of an Ola Rule. Boys and girly
“olored Cousins. A Coiloquy. For two males, f

DIME DIALOGUES No. 8, t

7 Fairy School, For a number of girls.

ae Karolling Officer. Three girls and two boys.
‘Lie Base-ball Enthusiast. Wor three boys.

Vhe Girl of the Period. For three girls.

Lhe Fowl Rebellion. Two males and one female
Slow but Sure. Several males and two females.
Caudle’s Velocipede. One male and one female.
The Figures. For several small children,

The Trial of Peter Sloper. For seven boys.

Getting 2 Photograph. Males and females. é
The Society for Goneral Improvement. Fer gir -
A Nobleman in Disguise. ‘Three girls, six boys
Great Expectations, For two boys.

Playing School. Five females and four males,
Clothes for the Heathen. One male, ene female
A Hard Case. For three boys,

Ghosts. For ten females and ene male.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 9.

Advertising for Help. For a number of females,
America to England, Greeting, For two boys,
The Old and the New, Four females, one male,
Choice of Tradea, For twelve little boys,

The Lap-Dog. For two females:

The Victim. For four fomales and one male.
The Duelist. For two boys,

The True Philosophy. For females and males,

A Education, For two females.

The Law of Human Kindness. Fer two females
Spoiled Children, For a mixed School,

Brutus and Cassius,

Coriolauus and Aufidins,

The New Scholar. For a number of girls.

The Self-made Man, For three males,

The May Queen (No. 2). Fora school. y
Mrs. Lackland’s Economy. 4 boys and 3 gitls,
Should Women be Given the Ballot? For boys,

DIME DIALOGUES No. 10.

Mrs. Mark Twain’s Shoe. One male, one female,
The Old Flag. For three Boys. School Festival.
The Court of Folly. For many girls.
Great Lives. For six boys and six girls.
Scandal. For numerous males and females,
The Lightof Love. For two Boys.
The Flower Children. For twelve girls.

he Uncle. For three boys.
A Discussion. For two boys.

The Rehearsal. For a School.

The True Way. For three boys and one girl,
A Practical Life Lesson. For three girls,

Yhe Monk and the Soldier, For two boys,
17176-1876. For two girls. School Festival.
Lord Dundreary’s Visit. 2males and 2 females,
Witches in the Cream. Three girls and three boy
Frenchinan, Charade, Numervus characters.

7

 

DIME DIALOGUES No. 11.

aa are very Deceitful. For six boys.
The Conundrum Family. For male and female.
Uuring Betsey.
-ack and the Beanstalk, For five characters.
The Way to Do it and Not to Do it. 3 females.
How to Beeome poet etc. Male and female.
The Ovly True Life, For two girls.
Classic Colloquies. For two boys.

I. Gustavus Vasa and Cristiern.

Il. Tamerlane and Bajazet.

For several characters,
varders Wanted. For several characters.

When I was Young. For two girls.

The Mest Preeious Heritage, itor two boys.

Lmkee Assurance.

= Double Cure. Twe males and four fomales.| M Pp
¢ Flower-garden Fairiea, Fer five little girls.| All is not Gold that

Three males and four females. |

Fashionable Dissipation. For two little girls.) —
\.A School Charade. Wor two boys and two girlg
Jean Ingelow’s “Songs of Seven.” Seven girla
A Debate. For four boys.

Ragged Dick’s Lesson. For three boys.

a ery usciisaable Biory. Bon two boys,
uestionable - For twe

A Sell. For three males.

The Real Gentleman. Vor twe boys,

DIME DIALOGUES No. 12,

‘A Family not to Patterm After. Tom sh
How to Man-age. An acting charade, :
The Vacation Kscapade. Four boys and teachot
That Naughty Boy. Three females and a mala
ad-cap. An Actin same

ttors.

—— Proverb,
Jomima’s Novel. Three maled and two females.| Sic Transit Gloria Mundi. Acting Charade.

Beware of the Widews. Yor three girls

Pwe O’cleck ta the Morning.
dn Indignation gig > ‘or several females.
yo and Behind the ea, Several eharact’s
ke Noblect Boy. Awumber of boys and teacher
Blue Board. A Piece. For girls and boya,|
Mot so Bed as it Seoms. For several eharacters.|
Cerketone Moral. Fer two males and female.
W Sentiment. Vor Parier and Benibttion.!

¢

DIME DIALOGUES No. 13. :
For three males. | Worth, not Wealth. Fer four boys and 2 teaches

No such Word as Fail, Fet sevoral males,
The Slesping Beauty. For 2 school,
oe eee on ae anda —
la Nabl; ° aR ox. Vor thnee
Boy-talk. Fer several little bars, “
Methaor is Dead. For several little girls,
A Practical Lmstration, For twe beys and ght ‘
 

Woman nature will out.

 

1

    

i ot

 

 

'

Pirs. Jonas Jones. Three gents and twe ladies.

Tho born genius. For four gents,

More than one listener. For four gents and lady.
Who on airth ishe? For three gins

The right not to bea pauper For two boys.
For a girls’ school.
Benedict and Bachelor, For two boys.

The cost ofadress. For five persons.

The surprise party. For six little girls.

A practical demonstration. For tree boys.

DIME DIALO

"ho Fairies’ Esenpade. Numerous characters.

A Poet’s Perplexitics. For six gentlemen.

a Home Cure, For two ladies and one gent.

he Good there is in Each. A number of boys.

sentleman or Monkey. For two boys.

fhe Little Philosopher. For two little girls.

Aunt Polly’s Lesson. For four ladies.
Wind-fall. Acting Charade. For a number.
itl it Pay? For two boys.

‘Dims School Sorts Dialogues.
-« SDIME DIALOGUES Mo. 14.

‘| Eyes and nose.

    

] 3

Refinement. Acting charnde. Severalé santa

Conscience the arbiter. For lady and gr t

How to make motkere happy. For two. irls. —
conclux~* argument, lor two bo: A

< won: —— For we ade Rt =
um’s , » (Temperance. ‘or four

The fatcl nhistnces For two young tales
For one gent and one ladys

For a number :

GUES No. 15.

7 ee For numerous males.
on’t Believe Wwat You Hear. For three ladics
A Satety Rule. Forthree ladies, ye!
The Chief’s Resolve. Extract. For two malow
esting her Friends. Yor several characters.
The Foreigner’s Troubles. For two ladies.
The Cat Without an Owner, Several charactera
Natural Selection, For three gentlemen.

oe

Retribution.

Ks;

DIME DIALOGUES No. 16.

folly Ann. For four ladies and one gentleman.
_ The Meeting of the Winds, For a achool.

The Good They Did, For six ladies.

The Boy Who Wins. For six gentlemen.

Wood-by Day. A Colloquy. For three girls.

The Sick Well Man. Yor three boys.

The Investigating Committee. For nine ladies,

A “Corner” in Rogues. For four boys.

DIME DIALOGUES No. 17,

The Imps of the Trunk Room. For five girls.
The Bossters. A Colloquy. For two little girte
Kitty’s Funeral. For several little girls.
Stratagem. Charade, For several characters, —
Testing Her Scholars. For numerous scholars.
The World is What We Make It. Two girls,
The Old and the New. For gentleman aaa lady.

%

LITTLE FOLKS’ SPEECHES AND DIALOGUES.

To Be Happy You Must be Good. For two lit
tle girls and one boy.
Byanescent Glory. For a bery of boys.
The Little Peacemaker. For two little girls,
What Parts Friends. For two little gitls.
Martha Washington Tea Party. For five little
girls in old-time costume.
The Evil There isin It, lor two young boys.
Wise and Foolish Little Girl. For two girls.
A Child’s Inquizies. For small child and teacher.
The Cooking Club. For two girls and others.
How to do It, Wor two boys.
4 Hundred Years to Come. For boy and girl.
Don’t Trust Faces. For several small boys.
Above the Skies. Fer two smail girls.
The True Heroism. For three little boys.
¥ive Us Little Boys a Chance; The Story of the
. Plum Pudding; TP’ Be a Man; A Little Girl’s
Rights Speech ; Johnny’s Opinions of Grand-
mothers; The Boasting Hen; He Knows der
Rest: A Small Boy’s View of Corns; Robby’s

Gray’s; Little Boy’s View of How Columbus
Discovered America; Little Girl’s View Lit-
tle Boy’s Speech on Time; A Little Boy’s
Pocket; Tha Midnight Murder; Robby Rob's
Second Sermon; How the Baby Came; A
Boy’s Observations; The New Slate; A Mo-
ther’s Love; The Creownin’ Glory; Baby
Lulu; Josh Billingson the Bumble-bee, wren,
alligator; Died Yesterday; The Chicken’s
Mistake; The Heir Apparent; Deliver Us -
From Evil; Don’t Want to be Good; Only a .
Drunken Fellow; The Two Little Robins;
Be Slow to Condemn ; A Nonsense Tale; Lit-
tle Boy’s Declamation; A Child’s Desire;
Bogus; The Goblin Cat; Rub-a-dub; Calum-
ny; Little Chatterbox; Where are They? |
A Boy’s View; The Twenty Frogs; Going to
School; A Morning Bath; The Girl of Duns —
dee; A Fancy; In the Sunlighs 3; The New-~
Musicia:

Poti 3 Then and

 

germon ; Nobody’s Child; Nutting at Grandpal

laid Exe; Tho Little n'; Idle Pomp
Now. ri ‘

DIME DIALOGUES No. 18.

Fairy wishes, For several characters, male and Sh roms For three gentlemen and tlireo

female,

Wo rose without a thorn.
one female.
Too greedy by b
De good turn deserves another.

dies. a
Courting Melinda. For three boys and one
lady. © :

here scholar. For several bo
The Little Intercossor, For four

b three males.
et oe For six la-

Jadies.

fit
For two males and|Give a

es.

doga bad name. For four gentlemen.

S)ring-time wishes. For six little s iris.

Lost Charlie; or, the gipsy’s revenge. For nm
merous characters,

A little tramp. for three little boys. <

Hard Times. For twe gentlemen, and four la,
dies.

The lesson well wort!

h learning. For two males
and two females. ¥

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,

95 William Street, New York.

< a

‘
 

or

An awful mystery. For

males.
Contentment, For if
Who are th sainis

_ DIME SCHOOL SERTES.—Dialogues

ve little boys,
For three young g rls.

   

"il:

_ DIME DIALOGUES No, 19. |
two females and twoyRemember Benson. For

male.
Mad with too much lore.

and Speaker, i a =

a

¥ a

three males.

For three males. 5

The California uncle. . For three males and three|Lhe fairy’s warning. Dress piece and Tableau.

females.

” . kind to the poor. . A little folks’ play.

»w people are insured
vyor.
ie smo .e fiend.

kindergarten dialogue,
tival. Porsonated by seven characters.
ie use ofstudy, For three girls.

_ae refined simpletons.

‘The Amerfcan phalanx,

The same,

The old canoe,

Rooin at the tor,

New England weather,

Blugezs, :

Leedle Yaweob Strauss,

A fable,

The tramp's views,

Moral littleness,—

Yaweob Hoffeltegobble-
gunst’s treason,

The setting sachem,

Lhe strest Arab’s ser-
mon

~ Address to young ladies,

’

~ Parrhastus and captive,|A ramble in the wood, |The raven,

A little big man,

The test of friends ip,
The price of pleasure,
Sour grapes,

Acting charade.
For four boys, male.
For a Christmns Fes-|We’ll have to mortgage the farm, For one mal

For two little girls.

- A ™ duet,
For four characters.

and two females.
An old fashioned duet.
For four ladies,

 

 

DIME SERIO-COMIC SPEAKER, No,

The unwritten *Claws? Mr. Lo According ¢o
of the Constitution, new version,

The ager, The midnight express,
Fish, : Morality?s worst enemy
Judge not mi brother, |The silent teacher,

The dog St. Bernard, The working people,

The liberal candidate, |The moneyless man,

A boy’s opinion of hens, Strike through the knot,

The good alone are An agricultural address,
great, The new scriptures,

The great Napoleon, The trombone,

Lhe two lives, Don’t despond,

The present age, The mill cannot

At midnight, with the water

Good-nigh ast.
— what became of a lie,

The fs Ni a th
ne funny Man -|Now and then
~ r ‘How ub vos dot for ‘—

ind
nat’s

The little orntor, }
Pompey Squash on inde-|Early | rising.
| man’s views,

 

Aunt Eunice’s experiment. For numerous
acters--chiefly females. a
The Mysterious @. G@. For two females and one

char-

The auction. For numerous characters.

19,
*, smart boy’s opin —
0 or x

Up early,
Not so ne i
The dead beat in poli-.

cs,
War and dueling,
Horses. A protest,
Excelsior, fr
Paddy’s version of ex-—
celsior,
The close, hard man,
Apples and their appli-
cation, ,
oge, :
Man, generically con-
sidered, :

 

' @WENTY CENT EDITION OF DRAMAS AND

pendence,

——s

 

 

READINGS,
164 pages 12m0.3 PRICK TWENTY CENTS,

DRAMAS.

The hypochondriac, For five characters, Dandelions. For seven characters.

The retrieved name. For fifteen characters. Lottie’s leap year victory. For four characters.
A moonlight masquerade. For fourteen ladies, | The friend in disguise. ‘or several characters
Matches made in attics, For five characters. Stage-struck. For four characters.

READINGS AND RECITATIONS. 1 Ge

\ Go feel what I have felt, —
Mary’s lamb, Hamlet and Ophelia,

m. Brown of Oregon,|Scene in a mad-house,
Larry O’Leary’s Ghost, The new baby,
Which shall it be? Red Riding Hood.

How to practice medic’e| Grandmother's motions,
Ramon, Naming the baby,

The bridge of sighs, Address to the comet, |
Lecture on matrimony, |The last of Little Nel,

CI

 

—

my, f
The venomous worm, =

Sy

‘LIVES OF GREAT AMERICANS. ae

4. George Washington 7. David Crockett, ’
2, John Pant eet, " 8. Israel Putnam, f
8. Mad Anthony Wayne, “1 . 9. Kit Carson, ie

4. Ethan Allen 10, Tecumseh ,

5, Marquis De Lafayette, 4 5 11. Abraham Lincoln,

6. Daniel Boone, 12. Pontiac. ;

“3 The above books are for sale by all Newsdealers; or sent, postpaid, to any address, on ro ae

pt of price—-TEN CENTS BACH.
rd BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,
; | 98 William Street, New York. _

 
   
 
 

Modern education. For three males and one fe- *

\

‘A chemical wedding. Rie Sep

  
 

 
 

 

 
 
  
 

  

 

 

 

| BRANDARD DIMZ sPBAKERS-

a

Back . h Volume

 

.

—-Foung America,

Birthday of Washington
Plea for the Maine law,

Not on the battlefieid,
The Italian struggic,
Independence,

Our country,

a Tus equality of man,

- Gravity, Inquir
exity, Pity,

tie
ari

ef,

Affirmin

i

Forbidding
Agreeing, Exhertin
quitting, Condemn

 

pendence, Venerati

iy

ness, Mirth, Ruillery, Buffoon
Attention,

1
Far Shave, Remorse, C
ride, Obstinacy, Authority,

Judging, Approving,

g, To

Arguing, Dismissing, Refus G

jon, Hope, Desire, PATO, Ry

eae Giving, Wonder, Adrairation, Gratitude,
esity, Persuasion,

“Affooiaiisn Slots, intoxication, Arger, obo

Early retiring and ris’g,
A. Ward’s oration,
True nationality,

Our natal day,
Solfering,

Inteiligeuce the basis of
The war, [liberty,
Charge of light brigade,

 

 

ery, Joy, Delight,
Modesty, Per-
Meiancbel., espair,
Ceuraga, Bonsting,
Commanding,
Difference,
ai
aching, Pa*doning,|
ing, Rae. Dee)

Love, Re-|

ey Denying,

, Tempting, Promising,

DIME AMERICAN SPEAKER, No. 1. ee

Great lives imperishable

The prophecy cee ;
Thee eo

J. Jeboom’s oration, |

A Dutch cure,

Lhe weather,

Ee

ilosophy applied,

An vid Ballad 7 ;
‘enny wise. und fool-

True clekalnes, . fish,

 

Pe

i

Untinished problem:
Honor to the dead, -
Immortality of patriots —
Webster’s polit’! systeny”
A vision in the ‘orum,

The press, Ra

 

 

 

Length of Sentence, Clearness, Unity,
Figures of Speech; the Wxodium, tl oe
Confirmation, the =

EC.1V. Represe~rativs Exercisns 1x Pross

tion, the Proposition,
Refutailon, the Peror.
$
axv Vires.--Transitiv:
Falstaff's Solil
Lincolu; the Call ana

Charge; History of a Li

Bells; “Byron; Maeb
Hamilot’s Soli
ward; King William

1 Ve

uy on

foquy; Old ‘Things; Look U

‘o Narra
the
ti n,

n; A Pies for the Ox
Honor ; the Burial <
Response; the Bayonet:
; the Bugle; the
eth end the ‘

Rufus: the Eyes em

wae.

i

co

 

ee

     
  
  

*

4

Character of the Revo’n| After the battle, Bat’d’y nights enjoy’ ts, Womau’s rights, net
Tae fruits of the war, |The glass railroad, “In a just cause,’ | ight of the Goversed, -
The sewing-machine, |Case of Mr, Macbeth, |No peace with oppres-| My ladder, : .
"rae manhood, Prof. on phrenology, sion, cf Woman,
rt) mended of life, Annabel Lee, A tale ofa mouse, _——-| Alone, on ites
19 ups and downs, Washington’s name, A thanksgiving sermon,|The rebellion of 186,
"he truly great, The sailur boy’s syren, |The cost of riches, \Disunion, = Be *
be DIME NATIONAL SPEAKER, No, 2. ed
Union and its results, )Tecumseh’s speech, Ohio, Murder will out, -
- Dur country’s futuro, Territorial expansion, Oliver Hazard Perry, [Strive fx the Lest,
The statesinan’s labors, |Martha Hopk ns, Our domain, Early riving,
_ Frue immortality, The bashful man’s story! Systems of belief, Deeds of kindneas,
Let the childless weep, |The matter-of-fact man,|The Indian chief, Gates of aleep,
Our country’s glory, Rich and poor The independent farmer, |The bugle,
Union a household, Seeing the eclipse, Mrs. Grammar’s ball, |A Hoodish gem, :
Independence bell Beauties of the law, How the money co.new, | Purity of the struggle
The scholar’s dignity, |Ge-lang! git up, Future of the fashiona, |Old ages oe
The cycles of progress, |The rats of life, Loyalty to liberty, Beautiful and true, 5
A Christmas chant, Sroowning glory of U.S.|Our country first, last.]The worm of the still,
Stability of Christianity} Chree fools, and alway: Man and the Infinite,
The true higher law, ~ | ‘Vashington British influence, Language of the Eaglg
The one great need Jur great inheritanee, | Defense of Jefferson, "Wash Monee 2:
The ship and the bird, “ulogy on Henry Clay, | National hatreds, The Deluge. :
DIME PATRIOTIC SPEAKER, No. 3.
erica to the world, 'The Irish element, eae of our Freedom the watchword
ve of copntry, Train’s speech, tT. F. Meagher’s address,|Crisis of our nation, ‘
Right of self-preserva-|Christy’s Speech, We owe to the Union, |Duty of Christian pa
Our cause, tion, Let me alone Last speech of Stephen| — tricts, ee
A Kentuckian’s appeal, Brigand-ior-General, A. Douglas, Turkey Dan’s oration,
Kentucky stendfast, The draft, Lincoln’s message, A fearless ploa; 9.
‘Timidity is treason, Union Square speeches, | Great Bell Roland, The onus of slavery, ,
The alarum, The Union, ~"\ he New Year and the} A foreigner’s tribute,
Sen 15th, 1861, Our country’s call King Cotton, [Unien,|The litile Zouave
The spirit of 761, ‘The story of an onk tree,! Battle anthem, Catholic cathedral,
The precious heritage, ‘L-e-g on tay leg, |The ends of peace, The “Speculators.”
DIME COMIC SPEAKER, No. 4, :
Klebcyergoss on the war oop A song of woe, |Political stump speech,
Age bluntly considered,|A Texan Eulogium, Ward’s trip to Richm’d,| Comic Grammar, No-
Early rising, ow to be a fireman,  |Parody, Farewell te the bottle, —
The wasp and the bee, |The United States, ‘The mountebank, The cork legs resaeek
Comic Graminar, No. 1,|Puff’s acc’t of himself, |Compound interest, Thesmack in sehesl, +

Pm notasingle man, |Practical phrenology, |A sermon on the feet,  |Slick’s definition of wife,

A, Ward’s advice, Beautiful, Old dog Jock, Tale ofahat,

_ Buzfus on Pickwick, Cabbage, _ The fishes’ tvilet, ‘The debating club,
Roineo and Juliet, Disagreeable people, Brian O’Linn : A Dutch sermon, =
Happiness, What is.» bachelor like? Crockett to office-seekers| Lecture on locomotion, =~
Dogs, Funny folks, Who is wy opponent? (Mra.Caudieon umbr'lla—

Betis) ; DIME ELOCUTIONIST,’ No. 5.
: fic, I. Parxereera ov Trux Enuncrarion. SEC. Jil, Tux Componmnt ExamMents or a
: —Fanlts in enunciation; bow toayold tuem. Oratiox.—Rules of Composition as os a
ne. Specinl rules and observances. Words and Phrases, viz.: Purity, Propriety,

$fC UL Tax Ant os Oxatozz—Sheridan’s; Precision, As ap lied to Sentences, viz. ¢

List of the Passions: Tranguility, Cheerful- strength.

¥ssa onto Musik; Discoveries m eal! pee
ERS. @usunv ATIons ov Geo seaeeeke vars

 
 

   

a

_pIme sonoot SERIES, 1 pfetegiie and Spear. -

 
 

 

ne. DIME DIALOGUES No, 19. | : ss
05% ; % 4 siéd ee ae
An awful mystery, For two females and two)Remember Benson. For thrde! males.
males. pe education. For three males ~~ one fe-
Contentment, Hor fins little boys, ;
Who are thy sainis? For three young g rls. Mad with too much lore. For three ai oa
T Cones upele. For three males and three| he fairy’s warning. Dress piece and Tableau.
: males. For two little girls.
a kia to the poor. A little folke! play. Aunt Eunice’s seperate For numerous char- ‘
ow people are insured. A * acters~—chiefly femal

iyor. Acting charade. For “Tne characters. ke M Ey sterious GG. For two females and one "
‘te smo.e fiend, For four boys,
kindergarten dialogue. Fora Christmns Fes- We'll an to mortgage the farm. For one mal

tival. Personated by seven characters, and two females.
ie use ofstudy, For three girls. An old fashioned duet. .

ae refined simpletous. For four ladies, ‘The auction. For uumerous characters.

 

 

DIME SERIO-COMIC SPEAKER, No, 19,

 

The American phalanx,)The unwritten Claws? Mr. Lo According ¢0;A smart boy’s opin :
The same, of the Constitution, new version, ion, x
The old — |The ager, The midnight’ express, |The venomous worm, 4
Rooin at the tor, Fish, : Morality?s worst enemy|Corns, :
New ae weather, Jadge not ane brother, |The silent teacher, Up early,

Blu: The dog arnard, |The —— people, . |Not so eas:
Lealle Yaweob Strauss, |The: iitaral candidate, |The moneyless man, |The dead Sant! in ae

A fate, A boy’s opinion of hens, ‘Strike through the knot, tics.

The tramp's views, oe tigi alune are An agricultural address,| War and gneling:

Moral littlensss, |The new scriptures, Horses. A protest,

Yaweob Ho tfultegobble- The sae Napoleon, The trombone, Excelsior :
gunst’s treasm, The two lives, Don’t despond, Paddy’s "yexidion of ex-

The setting sachem, The present age, The mill cannot grind] celsior.

Tar» siraet Ara’s, ser-)At midnight, with the water that’s|The eiatby hard man

E Good-night, matt Apples and their applie

devant to young ladies, rts What became of a lie, cation,
| A little big man, The funny man, Now and then Old Serooge,

The test of friendship, |The little orntor,. ‘How ub vos dot for high Ca “generically cone

The price of pleasure, | Pompey Squash on inde-| ‘Early , rising. A aad] 8

Sour grapes, Bats | man’s views, A ahibiateat aga i 49

 

 

 

_—

TWENTY CENT EDITION OF DRAMAS AND READINGS,

164 paaes 12m0.; PRICK TWENTY CENTS,

DRAMAS.
The hypochondriac, For five characters, Dandelions. For — characters.
The retrieved name. For fifteen characters. Lottie’s le! bead vi For four eas.
A moonlight: pp te For fourteen ladies. | The redend disguise. Forseveral characters
Matches made in attics, For five characters. Stage-struck. For four charac’
READINGS AND RECITATIONS. for
e Parrhasius and captive,|A ramble in the wood, jhe raven, Go feel what I have felt, —
0m a practice medic’e| Grandmother's notions,’ Mary’s lamb, Hamlet and Ophelia,
> Rar Nanning the baby, oe Brown of Oregon, |Scene in a mad-house, —
’ The. saldece of sighs,. | Address to the comet, y O'Leary’s Ghost, |The new ere

Lecture on Rome The last of Little Nel, iW hich shall it be? Red Riding Hood.

.

 

 

»

Be ‘LIVES OF GREAT AMERICANS.

oo Ww: %. David Crockett ihe 4 :
# Se ieatene, : 8. Israel Putnam, Porc a
Mad Anthony Wayne, Can ; 9. Kit cartons ek
‘ Mrranis Debit Hi eee ieee
5, Marquis e s . ham Lincoln
6. Dani Boone, Ne) 12. Pontiac. fs

The above books are for sale by all Newsdealers; or sent, postpaid, to any adress, on % a
ceipt of price--TEN CENTS EACH. eshte
j BEADLE AND ADAMS, ‘Publishers,

(98 William Street, New Sark,

 

\ x * : ‘aera
     

ve ee ee : a:

_ SRANDARD DI

  

MZ £PZAKERS--50 te 09 Pisces in Rash Volume,
DIME AMERICAN SPEAKER, No, 1. ge

Young America, “e retiring and ris’g, J. faeien oration, Great lives imperishable

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

__ Birthday of Washington ard’s oration, A Dutch cure, The potas eee <
. Plea for the Maine law,|True nationality, Lhe weather, Untinished problems,
Not on the battlefield, |Our natal day, ‘The heated term, Honor tothedead,
Tie Italian struggle, | Solfering, Philosophy applied, Immortality of patriots —
Independence, Intelligence the basia of| An old allad, Webster’s polit’! system
Our country, The war, [liberty,|Penny wise, pound fool-|A vision in the tormm, _
Tus equality of man, {Charge of light brigade, True cleanliness, . [ish,/ The press, Orta
Character of the Revo’n| After the battle, Bat’d’y nights enjoy’ts, Woman’s rights, ;
The fruits of the war, |The glass railroad, “In a just cause,’ | ight of the Governed, -
The sewing-mnachine, |Case of Mr. Macbeth, |No peace with oppres-|My ladder, — bres
rae manhood, Prof, on purenology, sion, : Woman, : :
fli eee of life, Annabel Lee, ‘ A tale of a mouse, Alone, i
xo ups and downs, Washington’s name, A thanksgiving sermon,|The rebellion of 18¢t, —
"he truly great, The sailor boy’s syren, |The cost of riches, (WDisunion, i
y DIME NATIONAL SPEAKER, No. 2. d
Union and its results, |Tecumseh’s speech, Ohio, Marder will out,
Dur country’s futuro, Territorial expansion, {Oliver Hazard Perry, {Strive fur the leat,
The statesinan’s labors, Martha Hopk ns, Our domain, Early riving,
True immortulity, The bashful man’s story'| Systems of belief, Deess of kindneas,
Let the childless weep, |The matter-of-fact man, The Indian chief, Gates of aleep,
Our country’s glory,  |Rich and. poor, The independent farmer, |The bugle, :
Union a household, Seeing the eclipse, Mrs. Grammar’s ball, |A Hoodish gem, ;
Independence bell Beauties of the law, . |How the money co.new, {Purity of the struggle |
The scholar’s dignity, Ge-lang! git up, Future of the fashiona, |Old ages :
The cycles of progress, |The rats of life, Loyalty to liberty, | Beautiful and true,
A Christmas chant, Sreowning glory of U.S.|Our country first, last.|The worm of the still,
Stability of Christianity | chree fools, aud always, Man and the Infinite,
The true higher law, ~ | ‘Vashington British influence, Jianguage of the Engl,
The one great need Jur great inheritance, Defense of Jefferson,  |.V: Eee
The ship and the bird, “ulogy on Henry Clay, | National hatreds, | Che-Deluge.
DIME PATRIOTIC SPEAKER, No, 3.
rica to the world, ‘The Irish element, History of our flag Freedom the watchworg
ve of copntry, Train’s speech, 'T, F. Meagher’s address,|Crisis of our nation, | :
Right of self-preserva-|Christy’s Speech, We owe to the Union, |Duty of Christian paw
; Our cause, (tion, | Let me alone, Last speech of Stephen! tricts, ay
-. A Kentuckian’s appeal, |Brigand-ier-General, A. Douglas, Turkey Dan’s oration,
a Kentucky stendfast, The draft, Lincoln’s message, A fearless ploa; 9 9.) + '
Timidity is treason, Union Square speeches, Great Bell Roland, The onus ofslavery, =
The alarum, The Union, |The New Year and the] A foreigner’s tribute,
— 15th, 1861, Our country’s eall King Cotton, [Unien,|The little Zouave
The spirit of 761, ‘fhe story of an oak tree,! Battle anthem, Catholic cathedral,
The precious heritage, 'L-e-g on ray leg, |The ends of peace, The “Speculators.”
Stel DIME COMIC SPEAKER, No, 4,
Klebcyergoss on the war Pop A song of woe, Political stump speec’
Age bluntly considered,|A Texan Eulogium, Ward’s trip to Richm’d, Comic Grammar, No-
Harly rising, How to be a fireman,  |Parody, Farewell t# the bottle, —
The wasp and the bee, |The United States, The mountebank, The cork logs a
Comic Graminar, No. 1,|Puff’s acc’t of himself, |Compound interest, Thesmack in scheol, +
Pmnotasingle man, |Practical phrenology, |A sermon on the feet, _|Slick’s definition of wife,
A. Ward’s advice, Beautiful, Old dog Jock, Tale of a hat, | :
_ Buzfuz on Pickwick, |\Cabbage, _ The fishes’ toilet, |The debating club,
Roimeo and Juliet, Nisagreeable people, Brian O’Linn, ‘A Dutch sermon, =”
Happiness, What isa ae Lice? Crockett to office-seekers| Lecture on locomotion, |

 

Poga, Funny folks, — _ Who is wy opponent? (Mra.Caudleonumbr’lla —
hoy DIME ELOCUTIONIST,* No. 5. Lad &
C.1. Prixerrons ov Trux Enoncrarion. SEC. JIL. Tux Componznt ELEMENTS oF A
Pe }aults in enunciation; how toayoid them.) Onatioy.—Rules of Composition as 2 plied t
ae Specinl rules and observances. Words and Phrases, viz.; Purity, Propriety.
a sre 1L Tux Art or Oratozy—Sheridan’s; Precision, As applied to Sentencos, viz.
" List of the Passions: Tranquility, Cheerful-| Length of Sentence, Clearness, Unity, strength, = --

ness, Mirth, Ruillery, Buffoonery, Joy, Delight,|. Figures, of Speech ; the xoediumn, the Narra- .
Gravity, Inquiry, Attention, Modesty, Per-; tion, the Proposition, the Confirmation, the —

‘plexity, Pty, Grief, Meiancbcl., Despair, Relutation, the Peror ti n, &

Ror. thea Remorse, Ceuraga, Bonsting, SEC.1V. Represeyrativs Exencians x Pross ’
Prido, Obstinacy, Authority, Commanding,) ap Viexsa.--Trausition ; A Pies for the Ox ‘
Forbidding, A‘ivining, Denying, Ditterence, Falstaft's Pe on Honor; tha Burial o }
Re Sovahiag Pokorny , Judging, Approving, Ac-| Lincolu; the Call ana Response; the Bayonet

"quitting, Condeynning, Teaching, Pardoning,| Charge; History of a Life; the Bugle; the ui
“Argainz, Dismissing, Refusing, Granting, De-) Bells; Byron 5 Macbeth and the Dagger;
pendence, Veneration, Hope, Desire, Love, Re-) Hamlet's Soliloquy; Old Things; Look Up. .
paris Girne, Hiei aaa Eel Eoag sia Bhavan wana eo

erie) Persuasion, Tempting, Promising, a 0. 5 8 a ‘Bie
‘Allonaticn Bloth, Nitaea., Axger, ote £80. V. Susenvarions oy Goon ‘boooene wae

/

 

 

   

 

a
 Sehlackenlichter’s suake

.

DIME HUMOROUS SPEAKER, No. 6.

A sad mire
A string of oniens,
A tragic story,

ats,
Courtship,
Debt
Devils,
Dow, jr.’s lectures,
go and echo,
Vashionable women,
bern thistles,
Pod-nature
@ottlien Klebeyergoss

How the rg go08,
Hun-ki-do-ri’s Io

If you mean no, say no,
Jo Bows on leap year,
Lay of the henpecked,
Lot Skinner’s elegy,
Matrimony,

Nothing to do,

Old Caadle’s umbrella,
Old Grimes’ son,

i. Paddle your own ¢a-

noe,
Parody on  * Araby’s

 

er

Daughter,”

 

Mosza Biglow’s oy

DIME STANDARD

The world we live in,
Woman’s claims,
Authors of our liberty, |
The real conqueror,
The citizen’s heritage,
taly,

The mechanic,
‘Nature & Nature’s God,
The modern good, [sun,

The power of an {dea,
ae beneficenee of the
uffrage Sea,
Dream of the revelers, ;
HowCyrus laid the eable

“/The prettiest band.

Paradoxical,
Little Jerry, the railler,
The neck,

 

Ossian’s address to the

Foggy thoughts, .

Independence bell--1771 The ladies’ mar,
Johu Burns, Gettysburg, | Life,

No sect in heaven,

The idler,

Poetry run mad,
urth ef Right names, —
duly oration, {

oy

_ ime School Serics--Speakers.

Scientitie lectures,

‘he ager,

The cockney,

The codfish, :

Fate of Sergeant Thin,

‘The features’ quarrel

Hamerican voodchuck,

‘The harp of a thousand
strings,

The last of the sarpints,

The march to Moscow, |

The niysterious guest,

‘Lhe pump,

SPEAKER, No.

The two lives.

"he true scholar,
Judges not infallible,
Fanaticism, {crime
Instability of suceessiu
Agriculture,

Treland, [quer,
The people always ¢on-
Music of labor,

Prussia and Austria,
Wishing,

‘The Blarney stone,

The student of Bonn,

 

Miss Prude’s tea-party, |The unbeliever,

DIME STUMP SPEAKER, No, 8.

Hon.J.M.Stubbs’ Views
on the situation,

’ Hans Schw:ckhvimer on
|The value of money,

woman’s suffrage,

All for a nomination,
Old ocean, [sea,
The sea,the sea,the open
Tie star bangled spauner
Stay where you belong,
Life’s what you make it,
Where’s my money,

Speech from conscience,
Man ’s relation to society

|Good-naturo a blessing,
Sermon from hard shell
Tail-enders, [Baptist,

Meteoric disquisition,
Be sure you are right,
Be of good cheer.
Crabbed folks, {shrew,
Taming a masculine
Farmers, * [country,
The true greatness of our
N.England & the Union,
The unseen battle-fleld,

 

the limits to happiness,

Plea for the Republic,

The broken household,

| America, falla

“ Right of | Jeseuln

Life’s sunset,

Human nature,

Lawyers,

Wrongs of the Indians,

Appeal in behalf of Am.
{series of war, [liberty

A Lay Sermon,

A dream,

Astronomical,

The moon, [zenx.

Duties of American citi

 

 

Pie at

ae

The sea-verpont,

The secrvt, — :

The shoemaker,

The useful doctor, —

The waterfall,

Yo tne bachelors’ union
league .

United Slates Presidents —

Vagaries of popping the
uestion, © @

What | wonldn’t be,

Yankee doodle

Ze Moskeetare,
1933.

he

The Bible, © .
The purse an’ the sword
My country,

True moral ecurage,
What is war,

Butter,

My Deborah Lae, ~
Therace,

The pin and needle, .
The modern Puritan,
Immortality of the sou
Occupation, f
Heroisin and daring,

A shot at the decauter,

Temptations of cities,
Broken resolutions,
There is no death,
Races, A $
A fruitiul discourse,
A Frenchman’s done
Unjust national acqui’n,
‘Theamateur coachman,
The cold-water man,
Permanency of States,
Liberty of speech, _
John Thempson’s dau’r,
Jouse clean :

 

 

The man,

DIME JUVENILE SPEAKER, No,

A boy’s philosophy,
'{o@ out your row,
jn'x-year-old’s protest,
‘Tue suicidal cat,

A valediction,
Popping corn,

The editor,

- The same, in rhyme,

The fairy shoemaker,
What was learned,
Press on,

The horse,

The snake in the grass,
Tale of the tropics,
Bromley’s speech,

‘She sane, second extract
The fisher’s child,
Shakspearinn scholar,

A Maiden’s psalm el life

Playing ball,

Ah, why,

Liye for something,
Lay of the hen-pecked,
The outside dog,

Wolf and lamb,

Lion {n love,

Frogs asking fora king,
Sick lion,

Country and town mice,
Man and woman,
Home, ‘

The Lotus-planter,
Little things,

A Baby’s soliloquy,
Reins

A Plex for Regs,
Humbug patriotism,

life! Night after Christmas, —

Short legs,

 

A nrixture,
Pioa for shatea,

Timpson amusements

How the raven beeame|

BOK,
A mother’s work,
The sane,
Who rules,
A sheep story,
A little correspondent,
One good turn deserves
My dream, — [another,
Rain, :
lll never use tobaceo,
A mosaic,
The old bachelor,
Prayer to light,
Little Jim,
Angelina’s lament,
JohinyShrimps on boats

Morcy,
Choice «f hours,

tis not yous iitritek,
9.

ae - do,
ones|
nang t pellegs
Ho for the ficlds,
ashion on the brain, —
Shanghais,
A smile, . .
Casabianes,
Houcropathie soup,
ose and eyes,
Male et
hundred

Little sermons, [raxor,
Snuiiles on electricity, —
‘The two cradles, >
Lhe ocean ster

Little’ pus:
Base-Rall,= [forer.

 

 

Poor Richard’s sayings
Whe killed Tom Roper,

Proseviption for spring

[come, —
yeurs to
The madumn and bis

Py
Do thy little, de it well,

 

 

 

 

 

   
 
  

    
 
  
  

| leigh hae See Satine geal aE TY Pe eT yee RM a Ne pea
ma ’ PE AP eeise Bo Ke es
cor a ff ° *
ae =

FAMILY ELAND-BOOKS.

 

: ‘ The Dime Family Series (Nos. 1 to 5 inclusive) aim to supply a class of text-books and manuals —

tted for every person’s use—the old and the young, the learned and tie unlearned. They are of
conceded value. Each volume 100 a es, 12u0., sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publish
ers, BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 ‘finch Street, New York. . ,

No, 1—DIME COOK BOOK; ;

Or, the Housewifo’s Pocket Companion. Embodying what is ost Economic, most Practical, most
t ‘Excellent. Revised and enlarged edition. 100 pp. 1210. By Mrs. Vreror. ae

 

EXTRACTS FROM CONTENTS. “

- BREAD.—Potato, Brown, Bran, Water, Rye snd Indian, Wheat and Rye, Milk, Rising, Butter-
milk Bread, Bread Biscuit or Rolis, French Rolls, Soda Biscuits, etc., ete
HOT BREAD AND CAKES.—Short, Corn, Johnuy, Appie John

 

.

EF ener mee ne ee Corn oot and Tomato Griddle Cakes,

e e Fritters, Rye Fritters, etc., etc. ; .

OTHER BREAKFAST DISHES.—Toast, Dry, Toast, Buttered Tonst, Milk Toast, Fried Rice
he ty Pudding.

, Muitins,

Omelet, Scrambled, Poached and Boiled Eggs, aten Grits, Hominy, Samp, Has‘
a MEATS.—Roasting Boiling, Frying; sixteen various methods ee same. ya.
. VEAL.—Boiled Veal, Fried Chops, Veal Pie, Leg of Veat, Loin of Veal, Shoulder of Veal, Caives?
4 Feet, Calt’s Head and Liver.
“~~ MUY'TON.—Mautton Chops, Chops as Beefsteaks, Neck of Mutton, Shoulder of Mutton, Leg of
Mutton, Haunch of Mutton, Saddle of Mutton, Mutton Cutlets, Irish Stew, Leg of Lamb, ete.
~ _ PORK.—Pork Steaks, To Fry Pork, To Roast Pork, Spare Ribs of Pork, To Boil a Ham, Pig’s
Feet, Souse, Head Cheese, Fine Sausages, Pickle for Hams, Salting Pork, To Melt Lard.
POULTRY AND GAME.—Roast and Boiled Turkey, Roast and Buked Goose, Ducks, Roast
Fowl, Chickens Boiled, fow! Broiled, To Frieassee a Fowl, Chicken Pie, ‘'o Cook Pigeons, ete.
FISH.—To Fry Fresh Fish or Eels, Baked Shad, To Broil Fresh Fish, Fresh Codtish, Salt Cod
fish, Codfish Balls, Stewed Oysters, Fried Oysters, Pickled Oysters, Chowder. ;
__ NICE BREAKFAST DISHES,—Fresh Meat, Griddles, Clam Griddles, Oyster Pancakes, Fish:
Balls, Codtish ‘Toast, Rice Balls, Hashed Matton, Head Cheese, A New Breakfast Dish.
SOUPS.—Beef, Vermicelli, Pea, Bean, Split Peas and Barley, Vegetable and Rice, Tomato.
VEGETABLES.—Twonty different varieties.
SAUCES.—White, Caper for Fish, Egg, Plain Butter, Cranberry, Apple, Sweet.
SALADS.—Radishes, Celery. J
PIES,—Twenty-five different varieties.
PUDDINGS,—Christmas Plum Padding, and eighteen other recipes. .
CAKES,--Thirty-four recipes.
TEA, COFFEE, CHOCOLATE,—Kight recipes.
JELLIES, PRESERVES, Erc.—Forty-one recipes.
PICKLES.—''o Pickle various kinds of Végetables and Fish. 4
_ ICE CREAM.—How to make it.
EY OYSTERS AND OTHER SHELL-FISH.
- THE CARVER’S MANUAL.—General directions for Carving.
MISCELLANEOUS.—Chicken and Pluin Pudding, Potato Muffins, Drop Biscuit, ete., etc. -

No, 2.-DIME RECIPE BOOK:

A Companion to the Dime Cook Book. A Directory for the Parlor, Nursery, Sick Room, Toilet,
Bs Kitchen, Larder, etc. Revised and enlarged edition. By Mrs. Victor.
: EXTRACTS FROM CONTENTS.
THE PARLOR,—To choose Carpets, Directions for Carpets, To clean Turkey Carpets, Moth in
rpets, To extract Oil or Spermaceti from Carpets, ete., To make Stair Carpets last, Cheap Car«

 

 

7

Re To wash Carpets, tosweep Carpets, House Cleaning, to clean Fe Mtoe Oil Paintings, —
a rany’,

ogany, ete., T'o preserve Gilding and clean it, To take Stains out of Maho, to clean Brasy

Ornainents, Marble, Lamp, Paint, To polish Mahogany, To remove Grease from Books, To prevent”

Mold in Books, Paste, Ink, and Leathor, To clean Silver-plated Candlesticks, To remove Rust, ete.

y, Griddle, Rich Griddle,
Deknoek, Wi

THE NURSERY AND-SICK ROOM.—Clothing of Infants, Waking Suddenly, Restlessness at ~

Night, Ointment for Scurf in the Heads of Infants, Teething, Vaccination, Worms in Children,
_ About Children, Hair of Children, Hooping Cough, Dysentery, Scarlet Fever, Putrid Sore Throat,
stc., A Cure for Burns, Scalds, Body in Flames, and seventy tore recipes, ‘
FOOD FOR THE SICK.—A Strengthening Jelly for Invalids, Mutton Custard for Bowel Com,
Jaints or Consumptive Cases, Chicken, Beet, etc., Toast Water, Rice Jelly, Bread aes Calves
ot Broth, Panada, Beef “ea Wine Whey, Water Grael, Milk Porridge, Rice Gruel, Medicato®

“anes, :
TH TOILET; THE HAIR.—To remove Dandruff, A Capital Pomade, Twiggs’ Receipt fot

the Hair, Bandoline for the Hair, Hair-curling Liquid, Oil of Roses,

- "THE TEETH.—To clean the Teeth and Gums, Quinine Tooth Powder, Prepared Charcoal, Peiu-~

vian Bark Powder, Homeopathic Chalk, Cuttle Tish Powder, Lip Salve.

a E HANDS.—To rages See from the Hands, To improve the Hands and Arms, Ointment
‘the f yh ed Hands.

; tir COMPLEXION. —To pee It; Wash for a Blotched Face, To remove Sunburn, Blotches,
kles, Pi si lydor for Complexion.

"et et TUS, PERSUMES, Ero -Face Powder, Pearl Powder, Rowland’s Macassar Oil, and

Pek or CLOT HING.—Furs, Woolen, Silk, Gloves, Ribbons, Lace, Bonnets, etc.

THE KITCHEN.—To ean Fruit, Pears, Quinces, Berries, Peas, Beans, Tomatoes, Green Corn, To

Preserve Fruit Jellies from Mold, To prevent “ Graining,”? aud seventy-five more recipes.

MELANGE, i :

HOW TO MAKE BUTTER AND CHEESE,

PROCESS Ol WINE-MAKING,

 

  
   
  
 
  
 
  

ss

) iuanufacture Caadles, To repair Broken Glass, and a hundred other useful recipes.

ISCELLANEOUS.—To mend China, To get rid of Bedbugs and Cockroaches, To make Inky

sae
é mE ot 7 age zt hi ~ Re we
Dime Family Haad-Books. |
; S : i os 7 rio:
No. 8.-DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN,
And Manual for the Sick Room. With Family Diseases ani their Treatment, Hints Nursin,
and Rearing, Children’s Complaints, Physiological Facts, Rules of Health, Recs tae apaateld
well-known Curatives, ete., etc., based upon the authority of Drs. WARREN, ONNA, PARKER,
. and others, Expressly prepared for the Dime series. : Anak plein
This admirable work is peculiarly Gited for pRActICAL use in ordinary cases. To mothers and
aurses—to those living’ on farms or in villages where a physician is not always available—to those —
who wish to save expense in those cases where the illness is not of a complicated or serious char- |
acter—this book will prove a Companton and Guipe. _ Its contents are as follows: aed
SKLN DISEASES.—Barbsr’s Itch, Discolored Skin, Disorders of the Hair, Disorders of Oil and —
Sweat Glands, Dry Pimples, ee Inflammatory Blush, Itch, Measles, Nettle and Rose Rash,
Capulous Svall, Scarlet Fever, letter, Warts and Corns, , é eam!
_ BRAIN AND NERVE DST are and Palsy, Cramp, Catalepsy, Dropsy of the
», Brain, Dizziness and Fainting, Enlargement of the Brain, Epilepsy, Hiccouyt te dtoplie a, Head ©
ache, Inflammation of the Brain, Locked-Jaw, Neuralgia, Nighimare, Sunstroke, etc. pipe;
DISEASES OF THE THROA'.—Influenza, Mumps.
DISEASES OF THE CHEST.—Bronchitis, Lung Fever, Pleurisy. Sota
DISEASES OF THE ABDOMINAL CAVI Y.—Cramp_in the Stomach, Colic, Costiveness. —
Dyspepsia, Gravel, Heartburn, Inflammation of the Liver, Kidneys, Spleen, Stomach and Boweis
Milk Sickness, Piles, Suppression of Urine eat : iis fee SaaS
DISEASES OF THE GENERAL SYSTEM,—' ilious, Remittent Fever, Boils, Burns and Scalds,
Bites of Venomous Snakes, Bites of Insects, Chilblains, Cancer, Congestive Fever, Carbuncle,
Drowning, Earache, Fever and Ague, Felon, Frost Bites, Malignant Postule, Nose-bleedi: g, Rup-
ture, Rheumatism, Scurvy, Scrofula’ Strains Tooth-ache, Typhoid Fever, etc. Rr ts
ACCIDENTS—REME: Leet g NL ben, Death from Noxious Vapors, Apparent Death from —
Charcoal, Apparent Death from Lightning, Apparent Death by Hanging. Blee ng trom a Wound,
Belladonna, Hy oscyamus, Stramonium and Conium, Clothing on Fire Upsetting gfa.Boat er! *
ANTIDOTES TO POISO .—Ammonia or Hartshorn, Antimonial Wine, Tartar Emetie, Arsen. _
ic, Corrosive Sublimate, Dogwood, Ivy, etc., Nitrie, Sul) huric, or Muriatic Acid, Niter or Salt- —
poles, Oxalic Acid, Opium, Laudanum, Morphine, Prussic Acid, Spanish Fhes, Strong Lye,
trych ine, Sugar of Lead, and others, oy ee oe
DISEASES OF CHILDREN.—Croup, Colic, Diarrhea, Fever, Fits, Spasm, Hooping-cough,
Narsing Sick Children} Kickets, Scroiula, Signs of Disease. Ke fa
RULES OF HEALTH, ; sede

No 4.—-DIME HOUSEWIVES’ MANUAL; |
Or, How to Keep House and Order a Home; How to Dye, Cleanse, and Renovate; How to Cy
Fit, and Make Garments; How to Cultivate Planta and Flowers; How to Care for Birds an
Household Pets, etc., etc. A Companion to the Dime “ Cook”? and ‘Recipe’? Books. By Mrs,
\M. V. Vicror, The contents are as follows: 2 Se
HOW TO KEEP HOUSE.--System, Household Articles, Copper Vessuls, Blankets, House |
Cleaning, To make a Cheap, Easy and Handsome Chair, A Toilet Table, A Lounge, a Pair of Ot-.
tomans, Window Shades, A Waslistand, a Wardrobe, An Hour Glass, a Work-Table, Fireboard of — »
Paper Flowers, To make a Rug, Common Mats and Rugs, The Care of Bede, Feathers, Feather
, 4 Few Hints, Selection of paper-hangings, The Nursery, Escaping from Fire, Accidents
from Paralogs How to Serve Dinner, ae
HOW TO DYE AND CLEANSE,-~-General Directions, Scarlet, Crimson, Pink, Madder, Red,
Purple, Lilae, Purple Slate, Common Slate, Blue, Sky-Plue, Yellow, Orange, Nankeen, Green, —
Brown, Cinnamon Color, Black, To Dye Straw Bonnets Black, Straw-Color for Silks, Orange for —
Silk, To Dye Feathers, to Clean Furs, ‘To Clean a Coat, Crape Shawls, Scarfs, etc., Carpets, White
Lace Vails, Kid Gloves, Feathers for Beds, How to Wash and Tron, Starching, Folding, Ironing )
ete., To prepare Starch, Flour Starch, Glue Starch, Starching Clothes, Sprinkling Clothes, Foldin,
Clothes, [roning, Starching, To Clear-Starch Lace, etc., Ironing Laces, Calicoes, is, Blac
Lace, To Wash White Counterpanes and Calico Quills, To Restore Luster to, Black Silk, Blac
sses, Black Coata, etc. To Restore Dark Blue (or any other Co!

ored) Silk or Ribbon. To Bleach Wool, Silt and Straw, AY. ANE a4
WTO ; \RMENTS.— ‘ Sammer Jackets, Winter Jackets, Aprons)’ 4

 

   
  
  

 

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H CUT AND MAKE GAR —A Dress,
Cape, Shirts, Children’s Clothing, Infants’ Clothing, Choice of Colors. j Flaea
HOW TO’ TAKE CARE OF PLANTS, FLOWERS, Exe.—House Plants, Plants Designed to
Staid Over, Plants Designed for Flowering, Potting Plants for Winter Use, Bulbous Flowers ir
the House, Camelia, Japonicas, Green-house Plants, Miguonette Flowers throughout the Year, To
reserve Dalilia Roots, To Protect Tender Plants Left Out, Compost for Potting Plants, ,
Flower-garden, Roses, Monthly Roses, Geraniums, Climbers for Walls, The Passion-Flower, —
Callas or Ethiopian Lily, Dahlias, Lilacs, Nasturtion, Gooseberry, Strawberry, Celery, Asparagus,
Quince, To Obtain Different Flowers from the Same a To Remove Mildew and blight. RE, ipa
How TO TAKE CARE OF BIRDS AND HOUSEHOLD PETS,--When and How to Pair
Canaries, Situation of the Cage, Food while Pairing, Nests and Nest-Boxes, Food while Bearing —
tneir Young, Time of Hatching, How to Feed Them, To Bring the Young Ones up by Hand, Paste
for Young Birds, German Paste for Cage Birds, To keep away Insects, To Distinguish the Sex,
Mocking Bird, American Yellow Bird, Bullfinenes. ee é. LI? dee
ISEASES OF BIRDS AND THEIR TREATMENT.—Molting, Swelling or Inflammation,
The Surieit, The Pip, the Husk, Egg-bound. oes : aoe
No, 5—DIME DRESSMAKER. | “

Introduction, The Corsage, Waist or Body, The Sleeves, Mourning, Negligee Toilet, Ribbon
Traveling Toilet, Cloak-making, Bonnets, Patterns for Cutting Out Dresses, Work, Materials |
Umplements, Purchase of Materials, Dictionary of Millinery and Dressmaking, Technical Terms in,
Dresamaking and Millinery, Laces aud Embyoideries, Colors, Flowers, otc., Corbeille in Marriage,

fea These books are for sale by all newsdenlers: or will be sent, post-paid to by ag 2

   
   
    
   
 
  
 
  
 

_ Fecoipt of price, TEN CENTS HacH, by BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 Wm,

n
   
 
   
   
 
 

.'The Dime Hand-Books for Pods boo
Made ted to theirend. They constitute

Into the inarket for popular circulation. Each v

Granp, M, D.
‘COMPOSITION.—The secret of @ good letter;

tion
; GENERAL ADVICE TO LETTER- WRITERS.
LETTERS OF BUSINESS.

_ UEPTERS OF PLEASURE AND ¥RIEND-| L

: SHIP,

- LETTERS OF LOVE.—Hints ant suggestions ;
a declaration; answor; a briefer declaration
* attachment} answer real love-letters. of

minent personag
Ere.—What

“Young PAspieS Srai-Bocks

People cover a wide range.of subjects, and are si ecially bree
ae once ae See aod the ubjee useful works eee eae

of anne by the publishers, BEADLE AND SAMS, 98 Wi} tliam Street, New York. eo
No. 1—DIME GENTS’ LETTER-WRITER, =

: “And Practical Guide to Compositions, embracing forms, models, suggestions and rales for the usd
~ of all classes, on “11 occasions; also a list of ee words and expressions, together with cB :
correct forms; and also a complete dictionary of mottoes, phrases, idioms, ete. By Loum a
CONTE

Sees toa novice; the rulee of composi-|

 

sETTERSOF DUTY, OF TRUST, Ero.
they are and how to write them ; forms, ete. ;
advice from a lady to her friend} a complaint]

 

  

 

ume 100 ea 12mo., sent-postpaid on receipd

NTS. ;
at silence ; commanfoating distressing news} ‘
ab parent informin :
‘AF RELA MONSHIP. Yay nintly cor
respondence ; its sacred i and proprio
ties ; examiples of re of real le eee
ETTERS 1OU! § OCCASIONS.—# :
certificate of acres another, for a maid;
another, for a clerk; a plication for a Coo
teacher’s place ; solicit ting. a vote ; ‘ee a
nomination; a girl applying for a place, an
other; ts application fo fora Hh abies 9p be
WRIT THE PRESS.
IMPROPRIET IFS OF EXPRESSION.
PHRASES, MOTTOES, IDI Exe.

8, OR OR

No. 2.-DIME BOOK OF ETIQUETTE. Fee te)

Pa sale oe 4
; Ser Ladies and Gentlemen; ; being a guide to true gentility aud good-breedin

and a com} ote at

x rectory to the usages and observances of society. Including etiquette of the eee of the

Evening Party, the Dinner Party, the Card and Chess Table, o

(tae af res, the Home Circle, — :

etc., etc. Prepared expressly for the “ Dime Series,” by a Committee of F
CONTENTS. .

‘ UN TRANCE INTO SOCIETY.—Confidence vs.
hashfulness; kindvess v . rudeness: the bores
‘f society, how to treat them
. DREBS AND ORNAMENTS. —The vul-
gay.ty of “ flash ” attire; simplicity in dreas a
mark of good breeding.

ON VISITS, INTRODUCTIONS, Ero.—The
~> law. of politeness a law of kindness ; when
visits are proper ; introductions, presentations,
ete., and forms.

_ EVENING PARTIES, DANCES, Erc.—The et-
_ iquette of the ball-room ; j general directions

  

 

for the same.

_ GAMES OF OF CARDS, CHESS, Exe.—When pro-
per and how conducted; general tules of the
grants the ill-breeding of betting or brag-
ging.

ON CONVERSATION.—Its usefulness and good
_— how to comport yourself; directions
‘or

ON LETTER AND NOTE WRITING.—Pro-
prieties and improprieties of oa ‘SAME ; ene :
ral directions for a good lette Ss

HOW TO GIVE AND imiciuvE, INVITA- Ss
TIONS.—General usage in all cas

ON ENTERTAINME NT'S.—-Etiquet of the
table; how to serve a guest, and how to be
serv a eye

ON PERSONAL CLEANLINESS.—A word te

the ste ee vation and cere for aye 4
on theaters, promen :dea, etc. ; on love, cours
ship and marriage ; the laws of home etiquette ©
special advice to ha dies; general observations — ©
and closing chapter. é

pha No. 3.-DIME BOOK OF VERSES,

Comprising Rhymes, Lines and Mottoes, tor Lovers and Friends; Valentines, Album Pieces, Gt
Verses, Birthday Lines, and poetry for Bridals, Births, Mourning, Epitaphs, ete. /

; 2 eRe FOR ALBUMS.
MOTTOES AND COUPLETS,
~ STi VALENT INE VERSES.
L AND MARRIAGE VERSES.

 

: hk LIDAY V ‘S,
ATHDAY VERSES.

ASKET.
(Gg This a: eae = Ne pier
t

CONTENTS,

EPITAPHS AND MOURNING VERSES Fo; eae
all ages and classes. Ne
THE LOVER'S C

panion, It is everybo c pocket is for all all
occasions. for old and ve. nets male und fe
male, Tt will be treasured like a eee
and used like a dictionary.

  
 
 

‘ Na, 4,—DIME BOOK OF DREAMS.

-

~ Pheir Romance and Mysenys with a complete interpreting Dictionary. Compiled from the i moat
ae Be ceredited sources for the - Dine Series,’ m
CONTENTS. :

—Favoring the anpipinions nature of dreams %

INTRODUCT:

  
 
   
   
   

ORY.

_ THE ROMANCE OF DREAMS. —Embodying
“lreains of all kinda and characters, with the
construction placed upon them by the most em:
inent authorities, and narratives of the extra-
_ardinary fulfillment of them.
THE PHENOMENA OF DREAMS.—A phy si-
cian’s views on the subject, giving a rational
solution me the phenomena, with instances cit |
is proof.

ATHARINE es TESTIMONY.

 

and a belief in their ee :

DICTIONARY OF DREA MS,—Compriaing the
most, complete interpretation-Distionary evey
Prepared, embracing the whole Alphabet oi
subjects.

tF It isa volume fu'l of interest even to tha)

general reader, being, in that respect, some.
thing like Mrs, Crawe’s “ Night Side of Na- “
ture.” and Robert Dale Owen’s ere on) is
the Boundary of Another World,’ ¢

;

  
: Row TO WRITE AND HOW NOT TO, WRITING FOR THE PRESS.

    

 

; ee er: Pod
é ; oy fen or
= * a ~ : : : 4 ores, noe Spee fi ae
z Young People’s Hand-Booke, =
No, 5,-DIME FORTUNE-TELLER,

 

COMPRISING THE ART OF FORTUNE-TELLING, HOW TO READ CHARACTER, ETC,

*

CONTENTS,

fORTUNE-TELLING BY CARDS.—Dealing| BY MEANS OF CABALISTIC CALCULA

the Cards by Threes, Dealing the Cards by TIONS, - eine ; Sei
Sevens, Dealing the Cards by Vifteens, The, FALMISTRY, OR TELLING FORTUNES BY
Tsyenty-one Cards, The Italian Method, Pre-| | THE LINES OF THE HAND, Dae NS
sent, Past and Future, Another Method off FORTUNE-TELLING BY THEGROUNDSIN-
Consulting the Cards, To Know if you will A TEA OR COFFEKR CUP. 7
Get your Wish, The English Method of Con- HOW TO READ YOUR FORTUNE BY rrr
sulting the Cards. WHITE OF AN EGG iS a

: LGG.
niOW TO TELL A PERSON’S CHARACTER| DREAMS AND THEIR INTERPRETATI

No. 6—DIME LADIES’ LETYTER-WRITER. 75%
Giving the various forms of Letters of School Days, Love and Friendship, of Society, ete, = >
CONTENTS, ‘ ae

4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

E. RULES FOR SPELLING. :

HOW TO PUNCTUATE, CAPITALIZE, Erc, | PROVERBS FROM SHAKSPEARE,
LieLTERS OF CHILDHOOD. POETIC QUOTATIONS. : “ee
LETTERS OF SCHOOL DAYS. WORDS ALIKE IN SOUND, BUT DIFFER.
LELTERS OF FRIENDSHIP. ENT IN MEANING AND SPELLING,
LETTERS OF COURTSHIP AND LOVE. EXPLANATION OF THE MOST COMMON
LETTERS OF SOCIETY : INVITATIONS, IN-| ABBREVIATIONS OF WORDS. ;

TRODUCTIONS, Ere. FRENCH QUOTATIONS AND PHRASES.
LEPTERS OF SYMPATHY. SPANISH WORDS AND PHRASES. ey
LETTERS OF BUSINESS. ITALIAN WORDS AND PHRASES.

- No. 7.—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET, :

A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Courtship and Marriage. Embracing alse @ tnipiaies
Floral Dictionary, ete. _ : ite ie

CONTUNTS. :

FRIENDSHIP.—Its Personality, Between Man, of Marriage, The T'rousseau, Presents, Bawe’,
and Woman, Close Communion Proper, Let- nets, The Bridesmaids, The Bridegroomsanes)
cat

 

*

 
  
 
 

ters, A Warning, Excellent Advice, A Prime he Bride, The Bridegroom gi
Point, Allow ae. Improper Intimacy, Special] After the Ceremony, The ee
to Young Men, Something to Avoid, Gallan-| “Cards” or “ No Cards,” Notes
tries, Gilts, Beware of Love, Correspondence. tory. , ea ee
LOVE.—The Dawn of Love, Love’s Secretive-| AFTER MARRIAGE.—Something tebe Read f
ness, Confidences, The Firat Conse-ousness of| Twice Twelve Golden Life-Maxims, A T:
Love, A Man’s ose Woman’s Way, Un-| with the Unmarried. ihe Te a ok
worthy Objects of Love by Woman, Unwor-| MISCELLANEOUS.—Language of the Hand}
thy Objects of Man’s Love,;How to Avoid’ kerchief, Language of the Fan, Language
Mistakes. the Cane, Language of Finger Rings, Weddin
COURTSHIP.—The Door Ajar, Disengaged, Ku-| Anniversaries, . viz,: The ape Weddin
goged: at what age iy {t proper, Engagement] Wooden Wedding, Tin Wedding, Crysta
not to be protracted, The Wooing Time, The eeenes Linen Wedding, Silver Wedding
Proposal, Asking Papa, The Rights of a Pa-) | Golden edding. : re
rent, Engaged, Proposal Rejected, Breaking off] THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS.—How to *
an Engagement. rs Use the Vocabulary, The Vocabulary, I—
MARRIAGE.—The Proper Time, Various forms! lowers, The Vocabulary. I1—Sentimeata —
eA

No, 8,—DIME BALI-ROOM COMPANION,  —_—

       
 

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
    
    
 
   
     
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

\

 

Asd Guide to Dancing. Giving Rules of Etiquette, Hints on Private Parties, Toilets fort
a> 5 Ball-room, etc. i Sey ie

CONTENTS«

ETIQUETTE.—Arrangementa, Private Parties,] SQUARE DANCES.—Plain uadrille, Deut —
The Parloror Dancing Apa.tment, Music, Re- Quadrille, The Nine Pin, The Lanciers, 7
freshmenta, Ladies’ ‘Toilets, Gentlemen’s Caledonians, The Prince Imperial, The V_
Dreas, The Guests. ginia Reel, The Spanish Dance, La Tempete.

MASQUERADES. ; ROUND DANCES.~—The Waltz a Trois Temps,
PROMENADE CONCERTS. : Waltz in Double Time, Celarins or Mazourka
SOCTABLES. Waltz, The Schottische, The Polka, the Galop,
ORDER OF DANCING. Redowa, Polka Redowa, Esmerelda, Dani
SPECIAL RULES OF CONDUCT. » 1) Polka, The Varsoviana. i ames

_ §GE" These books are for sale by ol! newsdanlors; or will be sent, postpald, to any address, on

‘ aT : ; Me
fecript of prico, TEN CENTs RACH, by BUADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers,
98 William Street, New Y
THE ILLUMINATED

DIME POCKET NOVELS,
peas PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY. 2
Comprising the best works only of the most popular living writers in the field

 

of American Romance. Each issne a complete novel, with illuminated cover, rival-
ing in effect the popular chromo, yet soid at the standard price, TEN CENTS.
—Hawkeye Harry. By Ol! Coomes. 8%—Carson, the Guide. By J.H. Randolph.
a—pend Shot. By Albert W. Aiken. 88—The Heart Eater. By Harry Hazard.
8—The Boy Miners, By Edward S. Ellis, 89—Wetzel, the Scout. By Boynton Belknap,
4—Blue Dick. By Capt. pate Reid. 40—The Huge Hunter. By Ed. S. Eis.
&—Nat Wolfe. By Mrs. M.

. Victor. 41—Wild Nat, the Tra » Paul P, i
6—The White Tracker, Edward S. Ellis. | 42—L; nx-cap. By Paul Bibbs. Se
%—The Outlaw’s Wife. Mrs. AnnS.Stephens. | 48—The White Outlaw. By Harry Hazard.
8—The Tall Trapper. By Albert W. Aiken. | 44—The Dog Trailer. By Freaerick Dewey, —

9—Lightning Jo. By Capt. Adams, 45—The Elk King. By Capt. Chas. Howard,
10—The Island Pirate. 8B Capt. Mayne Reid. | 46—Adrian, the Pilot. By Col. P. Ingraham.
11—The Boy Ranger By Ol Coomes. 4?%—The Man-hunter. ByMaro 0, Rolfe.
12—Bess, the Trapper, By E. S. Ellis. 48—The Phantom Tracker. By F. Dewey.
18—The French Spy. By W. J. Hamilton. 49—Mocensin Bill. By Paul Bibbs.
14—Long Shot. By Capt. Comstock. 50—The Wolf Queen, By Charles Howard.
15—The Gunmaker. By James L. Bowen. 51—Tom Hawk, the Trailer.

16—Red Mand. By A. G. Piper. 52—The Mad Chief. By Chas. Howard.

1%?—Ben, the Trapper. By Lewis W. Carson. | 58—The Black Wolf. By Edwin E. Ewing.
54—Arkansas Jack. By Harry Hazard,

18—Wild Raven. By Oll Coomes.
19—The Specter Ohief. By Seelin Robins. 55—Blackbeard. By Paul Bibbs.
0—The B’ar-Killer. By Capt. Comstock. 56—The River Rifles. By Billex Muller.
- 21-—-Wild Nat. By Wm. R. Eyster. 5%—Hunter Ham. Py J. Fdgar Tift,
~22—Indian Jo, By Lewis W. Carson. 5S—Cloudwood. By J. M. Merrill.

28—Old Kent, the Ranger. Edward S. Ellis. | 59—The Texas Hawks. By Jos. E. Bager, Jr.
24—The One-Eyed Trapper. oe Comstock | 60—Merciless Mat. By Capt. Chas. Howard,
‘» AY

25—Godbold, the Spy. By N. ‘on, 61—Mad Anthony’s Scouts. By E. Redman
26—The Black Ship. By Yoko S. Warner. 62—The Luckless Trapper. Wn. R. Eyster.
2%—Single Eye. Br Warren St. John. 68—The Flerida Sccut. Jos. FE, Bacger, Jr.
$5 ina an Jim. By Edward S. Ellis. 64—The Island Trapper. Chas. Howard.
_ 29—The Scout. By Warren St. John. 65—Wolf-Cap. By Capt. Chas. Howard.
- 80—Eagle Eye. By W. J. Hamilton. 66—Rattling Dick. 3 Harry Havard,
1—The Mystic Oanoe. By Edward§, Ellis. 67—-Sharp: ye, By Major Max Martine.

82—The Golden Harpoon. By R. Starbnck. | 68—Iron-Hand, By Frederick Forest.

88 ~The Sealp King. PBy Lieut. Ned Hunter. | 69—The Yellow Hunter, By Chas. Howard.

85—Ratnboit, Ranger.’ Hy'Oli c H—Delaware Pom. Sy Fiary Hemerd
—hain anger. oomes. —Delaware om, ry: arry fia *

86—The Boy’ Pioneer. By Edward 8. Ellis. %2—RSilver Rifle. By Capt, Chas, Howard.

 

The following will be issued in the order and on the dates indicated: _
73—The Skeleton Scout, or, the Border Block. By Major Lewis W. Car-
son, Ready
mere Ruinte, or, the Young Fur Hunters. By Capt. ‘Bruin’? Adama, .
ney

"5 >The Wooa Witch, or, the Squater’s Secret. By Edwin Emerson, —
ead; ;

76—Old Ruff, the Fx peers or, the Young Fur Hunters of Columbia. By —
_ Capt. “ Bruin’? Adams. Ready ; see a
; 77—The Scarlet Shoulders, or, the Miner Rangers. By Harry Hazard.
: Ready ;
78—The Border Rifleman, or, the Forest Fiend. By Major Lewis W.-
- Carson. Ready be pee
-¥9—Outlaw Jack, or, the Mountain Devil. By Harry Hazard. Ready

ere aus the Seminole, or, the Black Dwarf. By Ralf Ringwood.
f eady : ;

(QP Beapre’s Dimz Pooxet Novers are always in print and for sale by all newsdealers; or will be sent,
"post-paid, to any address; single numbers, ten cents; six months (13 Nos.) $1.25; one year (26 Nos.) $2.50,

Address, BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
 

 

 

 

| Beadle’s New D
| PUBLISHED SEMI-MONTHLY, eee
822—Old Grizzly. By Capt. Adams, 1 855—Red Knife, Chief, . Emerson.

356—Sib Cone, Trapper, Ned Buntline |
357 — The Bear-Hunter, Harry Hazard |)

328—Dashing Dragoons, By C. D. Clark
324—Will-o’-the- Wisp. By F. Dewey.
325—Dashing Dick, By Oll Coomes.
326—Old Crossfire. By Capt. Howard.
.827—Ben Bramble, By H. J. Thomas.
-828—Brigand Captain, A. W. Aiken.
 829—Old Strategy. By Oll Coomes.
330—Gray Hair, Chief, W. J. Hamilton
331—Prairie Tigers, Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
332—Rival Hunters, By E. 8. Ellis.
333—Texan Scout. By Harry Hazard
334—Zebra Zack, By W. J. Hamilton
_ 835—Masked Messenger, H, Johnstone
336—Morgan, the Pirate, J. S. Warner
337—The Boy Spy. By Oll Coomes.
338—Tahle, the Trailer, Seelin Robins
339—The Boy Chief, By Oll Coomes.
340—Tim, the Trailer. C. D. Clark.
841—Red Ax, the Giant. Paul Bibbs.
342—Stella, the Spy. By N. ©. Iron.
_343—White Avenger, L. W. Carson.
344—The Indian King, N. W. Busteed.
; 345-—The Long Trail, By E. S. Ellis.
346 —Kirk, the Guide. Mrs. Stephens.
347—The Phantom Trail, E. 8. Ellis
| 848—The Apache Guide, By E. S. Ellis
- 849—The Mad Miner, Harry Hazard.
350—Keen-eye, Ranger, Lewis Swift.
_ 851—Blue Belt, Guide, J. L. Bowen.
' 852--On the Trail. By E. S. Ellis.
353—The Specter Spy, Lew W. Carson.
‘| 364--Old Bald-head, By Ol) Coomes.

388—The Privatoer’s Bride, By J, R. Caldwell. —

 

 

358—Bashful Bill, Spy. L. W. Cars
359—The White Chief. Jos. Henderson

360—Cortina, Scourge, John Emerald, |
Squaw Spy. By Paul Bibbs | |
362—Scout of 76, Herrick Johnstone. |

361—The

363—Spanish Jack, By Fred’k Dewey.
364—Masked Spy. Prentiss Ingraham,
365—Kirke, Renegade, J. Henderson.
366—Dingle, the Outlaw, E. Emerson
367—The Green Ranger, E. Emerson,
368—Montbars, Seont gh, Paul Bibbs.
369—Metamora, By Albert W. Aiken.
370—Thornpath, Trailer, Ol! Coomes

871—Foul-weather Jack, R. Starbuck, :

872—The Black Rider, J. EH. Badger.

373—'The Helpless Hand, Mayne Reid |

374—The Lake Rangers, W.J.Hamilton
375—Alone on the Plains. Ed. Willett.

876--Phantom Horseman, E. S. Ellis.

877--Winona, W. J. Hamilton.

378--Silent Shot. By Oll Coomes. =| |
379-—-The Phantom Ship. R. Starbuck. —

380—The Red Rider, Jas. L. Bower,
$81—Grizzly-Hunters, F. Whittaker. —
882—The Mad Rang»r, J. B. Badger,Jr —
883—The Specter Skipper, R. Starbuck.
384—The Red Coyote. Albert W. Aiken. —

385—The Hunchback. W. J. Hamilton.
386—The Black Wizard, F.Whittaker.
887—The Mad Horseman

The following will be issued in the order and on the dates indicated:

_889—The Jaquar Queen: or, the Outlaws of the Sierra Madre, By Frederick a a

Whittaker. Ready
890—Shadow Jack; or, the Moor Wite.

By Roger Starbuck. Ready 6 se ie a 4

391—Eagle Plume; or, the White Avenger. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready

892—The Ocean Outlaw; or, the Stolen Sister. By J. R. Caldwell, sendy |
i |

393—Red Slayer; the Life-Hunter. By W. J. Hamilton. Reaay. as
By Guy Greenwood, |

394—Tho Phantom Foe; or, the Maid of Montmaranci.

Ready :

395—The Blue Anchor; or, the Lost Bride. By Roger Starbuck. Ready Sept. 18. | |
Beavue’s Dime Novers are always in print and for sale by all newsdealers ; or ie
|| will be sent, post-paid, to any address: single numbers, ten cents; six months (13 4
_ Hos.) $1.25; one year (26 Nos.) $2.50, Address, Y Dac eite et

_ BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers 98 William St. N.Y. ||

ime Novels.

-E. Emerson. | —