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@112“ that literati A. IS PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, And despatched to Subscribers by the earlies mails, or other conveyance. when so desired The YORK HERALD will. always be be found to contain the latestand mostimpor- tant Foreign and Provincial News and Mar- kets, and the greatest care will be taken to render it acceptable totheman of business, and a valuable Family Newspaper. TERMSâ€"Seven and SixpenceperAnnnm, IN tenuous, a d if not paid within Three MrOfilhslwo‘ 'do [firs will be charged. ’ RATES OF ADVERTISING : Sixlines and under, first insertion.. . . .$0(l 50 Each subsequent insertion . . . . . . . . . . . {)0 12,1, Ten lines and under, first insertioir. . . . . 00 75% Abode’tén lines, first in.. per line.. .. 00 07 Each‘ subsequentinsertion, perline. . . . 0“ 02 ll? Advertisements without written direc- tions inserted till forbid, and charged accord- ingly. ’ ' All transitory advertisements, from strangers or irregular customers, must be paid for when handed in for insertion. A liberal discount will be made to parties ad. vertising by the year. All advertisements published for aless pe riod than one month, must be paid for in ad- AURORA W V01. N0. 305 _ HOTEL CARDS. MW - vaww w» RICHMOND HILL HOTEL RICHARD NICHOLLS, Proprietor; LARGE HALLois connected with this llotel for Assemblies. Balls, Concerts, Meetings. dim, A STAGE leaves this Hotel every morning for Toronto, at 7 a.nr.: returning, leaves Toronto at half-past 3. vanes. 11;? Good Stabling and a careful Hustler in All letters addressed to the Editor must be waiting- post paid. ‘ 145-lly. ' Richmond Hill, Nov. 7, 1861. White Hart 11111, RICHMOND IIILL. I'IE Subscriber bugs to inform the Public that he has !eased the above Hotel. where he willkeepcousiantly onhand a good supply of firstâ€"class Liquors, &c. As this house possesses every accommodation Tra- vel ers can desire, those who wish to stay where they can find e'very comfort are respectfully in- vited to give him a call. CORNELIUS VAN NOSTRAND. Richmond Hill. Dec. ‘28, 18150. Itl8‘1y No paperdiscontinued until allarrearages are paid : and parties refusing papers without pay - ing up,- will be held accountable fortlre sub- scription. ' v ‘ THE YORK HERALD Book and Job Printing ESTABLISMENT. RDERS for any of the under-mentioned description of PLAIN and FANCY JOB WORK will be promptly attended to :â€" BOOKS, FANCY BILLS, BUSINESS CARDS, LARGE AND SMALL POSTERS,CIIICUI.AIIS, LAW' FORMS, BILL HEADSJSANK CHECKS,DIIAI"TS,AND PAMP/HLE TS. And every other kind of YONGE STREET HOTEL, AUnortA. ALEX. SCOTT, Proprietor. LETTE Râ€"PRESS PRINTING I done in the best style. at moderate rates. Our assortment of JOB TYPE is entirely new and of the latest patterns. A large variety ofuew Fancy Type and Borders, tor Cards, Circulars .&,c. kept always 011 band iiiuainaea naturism. MEDICAL CARDS. WLWIWM» AAA A A A A hJ‘M,/\/~_’\ A‘snr‘." .~A~.« A ~, ~_-.'\MAFA DR. HOSTETTER, Member of the Royal College of Surgeons Tmm, Novo,,,,,;,,. 186 , , England, Opposite the Elgiu Mills, R ICIIM‘INI) HILL. May I, 1861. IQT-Iyp v GOOD supply of VViues and Liquors f always on hand. Excellent Accommo- dation for Travellers, Farmers, and others. Cigars of all brands. D. McLEOD. Proprietor. Aurora. June 6. 1859. 25~1y CLYDE HOTEL, KING sr. EAST, NEAR THE MARKET SQUARK' TORONTO, (LIV. JOHN' 211 I L L S, Proprietor. Good Siabling attached and attentive Hostlers always in attendance. I57-tf James Massey, (Late of the King 8 Head. London, Eng.) No. 26’ \Vcst Market Place, JOHN‘ N. REID, 111.1): 'I‘ORON'I‘o. CUR. 0F YONGE 86 COLBURNE $18., 'I‘IIORNII ILL. Consultations in the office 0“ the mornings of Tuesdays. Thursdays and Saturdays, 8 to 10, a.u‘. U’ All Consultations in the office, (Lash. Thoruhill, April 9, ’6‘). ISAAC BOWMAN, M. 1)., Graduate oftlic University of Vic Coll. & Provincial Licentiate, 1 AS settled (permanently) at THOPSHILL. where he can be consulted at all times on the various branches of his profession ex- cept when absent on business. Thor-uh ill, May, 1869. Every accommodation for Farmers and others attending Market Good Stabliug. 33“ Dinner from 12 to 2 o’clock. 167 . Hunter’s Hotei. mttltfljtfi @flfitbaufi, r ~llllil Subscriber begs to inform the Public that he, has lcasul the above Hotel, whcrc he will keep constantly on hand a good supply of first-class Liquors, die. This house ( pessesses every accommodation Travellers can desire, those who wish to stay where they can find every comfort are respectfully invited to call. 176 \V. WESTI’I‘IAL. Corner ofChurch and Stanley Sis, Toronto, Sept. b", 1861. I45~Iy 1791 '1‘111: WELL-KNOWN BLACK HORSE HOTEL, Formerly kept by William Rolph, Cor. of Palace 8.; George Sts. [msr or rm; mummy] 'I'ORONI'O. WILLIAM (30X, Proprietor, [Successor to Thomas Palmer]. Good Stabling attached. Trusty Hostlers always iir attondancc. I Toronto. April 19,1861. 125-13'. “Law CARDS. MN “\VMA-vc v .. -v Vâ€"«(VW WVVVVVWV .,m~-M.~VM~.~ M. TEEFY, COMMISSIONER IN THE QUEEN’S BENCH CONVEYANCICK, AND DIVISION COURT AGENT, RICHMOND HILL POST OFFICE. GREEMEN’I‘S, Bonds, Deeds, Mortgages, Wills, &c., &c., drawn with attention and prornpiitude. Richmond Hill. Aug ‘39. III-if. A C A R D - C~ KEELE, Esq., of the City of TM- u 0 onto. has opened an otlice in the V11- .ago ofAur‘ora for the transaction of Common Law and Chancery Business, also, Convey- ancing executed with correctness and despatch Division Courts attended. “’ellington St. Aurora, & Queen St. Toronto November 20. 18 fl. ItH-ly Charles C. Keller, ATTORNEY-AT . LAW, SOLICITOH _ in Chancery, Conveyancer, &c. Office, 11 Victoria Buildings. over the Chronicle otlice, Brook Street, Whitby. Also a Branch Office in the village of Beau verton, Township of 'I‘horuh, and County of Ontario. The Division Courts in Ontario. Richmond Hill, and Markham Village regularly attended. Whitby, Nov. 22. 1860. lU4-Iy JAMES BO UL TON, Esq. Barrister, Law Officeâ€"Corner of Church and King Sts. Toronto, March 8. 1861. 119-tf EDWARD E; w. HURI), ARRISTE R, Attorney-at-Law, Solicitor JOS. GREGOR’S Fountain Restaurant 2, 65) Kiss S'rnmrr, lias'r, Tonos'ro Lunch every day from 11 till 2. [13’ Soups, Games, Oysters, Lobsters, &cl a'uays on hand: ' Dinners and Suppers for Private Parties got up in tho beststylc. ’l‘orouto, April 19, 1861. 125-13’ NEWBICGING HOUSE, A'I‘I‘l Clarendon Iloiel, No. ‘28, 31) and 3'.) Front Street, Toronto. Board $1, per day I’orters always in attendance at the Cars and Boats. W. NEWBIGGING, Proprietor. Toronto, April 8, 1861. IQ‘I-Iy voaK MILLS HOTEL,i _ YONGE STREET, T“ E Subscriber begs to intimate that he has leased the above hotel, and having fittod it up in the latest style travellers may rely upon having every comfort and attention at this first class house. Good Stabling and an attentive Hostler al- ways in attendance. WILLIA M LENNOX, Proprietor, in Chaucery,Conve_\ aucer, doc. Money York Mills June 7. 1861. 1324), advances procured on Eortgages, ’ No. 3, Jordan Street.‘ . ' . 1 Toronto. December 13. 1860. 1(18-y wemngmn Hillel, Aul'fll'a- -, OPPOSITE THE TORONTO HOUSE. A. McNABB. ARRIS'ITER, Attorney, Solicitor, &c. King Street, East, [over Leader Office,] Toronto, C.W. Toronto, April, 12, 1861, GEO. L GRAHâ€"A‘M, PROPRIETOR. LARGE and Commodious H alland other improvements have. at great expense, been made so as to make this House the largest and best north of Toronto. Travellers at this House find every convenience both for them- selves aud horses. N.B.â€"â€"A careful ostler always in attendance Aurora Station, April 1861. 126-131 123-1)‘ tam“... Grant, TTORNEY AT-LAW. Solicitorin Chari- 1 cery, Conveyancer, &c. Toronto. Office inithe “ Leader" Buildings, King Street. Toijonto, April 12, 1861. 123-1,. . H “ . W I _ f. . 1' ‘ George Wilson, :. ~ ' ; ~' (LATE FROM ENGLAND) ‘ N W : . 7, ‘ . , ’ masonic arms motel, ~ . z a: a “ ~' “ - , RICHMOND HILL. " ‘ ' ' “‘ ' ' _._. THO AS SEDMAN, 'OOD Accommodations and every attention - ‘Nf shown to Travellers, Good'Yards for Garl'lage and aggoll Drove Cdattle and Loose Boxes for Race Horses MAKER, andStu, s. The best of Liquors and Cigars kept cou- UNDERTAKER stantly on hand. 560- &0- 55°- The Monthly Fair held on the Premises first Wednesday in each month. Richmond Hill. April 8. 1862. Residenceâ€"~Nearly opposite the Post Office, Richmond Hill. 167 March 14, 186?. 172-13! fear. AND _ chno RICHMOND III F patio}. TO MAUD. Sitting in my} lonely chamber, Where I’ve sat since eventide, I am thinking of thee only, Out of all the world beside. And the midnight bells are ringing Out their sad and solemn chime, To my saddened senses bringing Consciousness of passing time. Time that passing oft remitrd me Of the joy I’ve lost with thee, Time that passing only binds me Closer to my memory. Life was aimless till I knew thee, I All its purposes were vain. But then earnest, and I, through thee, Fight life’s battles o’er again. I could fight it nobler, better. \Vith thee by me in the strife. Theeâ€"to break each earthly fetter, Binding to a meaner life. I could wrestle bolder, longer, With a more than human pride, Daily, hourly. growing stronger I“ had thee by my side. But in absence, I rrrust wake me From this fatal lethargy. Striving every hour to make me Worthy of myself and thee. It were shameful now to falter, More than shameful now to win; Since the past 1 cannot alter Here life’s duty I begin. True to manhood's best achieving, Doing nobler day by day. i .' . . ‘ 1\ever falteringâ€"only leavmg Time enough to watch and pray. Hoping thus to leave behind me Something worthy of rr y pride, \Vhen declining years shall find the Floating calmly, down life’s tide. ______________ if Li ittulttt‘t. MY OWN Eli-N (Continued) 1 know not 110w long I endured this, but it seemed to rouse my lor- mani will and as that returned, the M ERAL. use of my other seems returned like- wise. My eyes were closed, but I knew thatl could see, for I per- ceived a Wight of darkness above the shut lids. Presently, too, I grew aware that there was some- thing in my right hand, and as my sense grew kccncr and kecner, and the agony of cold and weakness be- came still more unbearable, my will grew stronger, my thought returned dime, though my memory Was ut- terly g0nc,aud ldetermiucd to make. an effort to move. I had no idea that I was dead, for I had no mem- ory that I had ever been alive, but I was conscious of existence, and instinct, I suppose, prompted self- prescrvairon. ‘ My first attempt was to open my [eyes, and in thisl at length suc ceedcd. But I saw nothing. Only when I had lain for some time, gaz- ing upward, did I know that there was a space of dark air above, and that I was not shut in close. was in my hand. Whatever it might be, I knew that it was smooth, and somewhat warmer than the icy flesh that held it. Then I strove Again and again I tricd,till suddenly with an unexpected jerk, it bound- me was a large glass door. ed up, the muscles not being wholly under my Wlll, and as it did so, I felt some hot drops fall on my face. It was this that saved me ; this, as it were, that awoke me. These drops. brough the blood more quickly through my ice bound veins, and thawed me into life. Then I knew at once that I held a bottle saw a vast graveyard. in my hand, and, in my frightful gnawing hunger, instinct guided it to my mouth. contents down into my throat, and oh! how‘fearfully they burned, yet how completely they restored me. It was brandy, and my memory returned sufficientlv for me to know that it was so. Yet I guessed no- thingr from that. My mind could not do more than perceive. I was too powerles to draw an inference. But now the pain was lessenedâ€"- my blood was warmed, lfelt that my heart beat. I was conscious that I was alive. And now, too, though I was still unable to move, lcould feel thatl was shut up in some narrow casting. My feet touched something upright and wooden on each side. -I was fright- fully cramped, and this was a new pain, and a source, too, of a vague I felt my strength returning, ND HILL ADV .to raisc this arm, but in vain.â€"â€" myself on my sinking legs, 1 I poured half thcibehind meâ€"-â€"the dead, I 1 Then I tried to pass my arms My next effort was to feel Wlltliletl that this must be death, and then and longed'to be free. Yet 1 could than the rest.- - - I raised my arm again with an efl'ort, and swallowed some more brandy. Then my sight became clearer, and I discomrcd a dim, gray light, as of the morning twi- light, stealing upon thedarkness. Presently I could move my arms. I passed, them about my body, and felt a number of brass buttons. and the smoth cloth of a coat,'.and the smoother satin of a large embroider- ed waistcoat. This taught me no- thing. I thought it quite natural, but that was all. I remembered nothing at all. over the wooden casting that held me, and when Iliad succeeded in doing so, [found something crisp and flimsy, which reminded me of muslin, and something limp and smooth, which my returning urem- ory told me was ribbons. I asked myself what all this meant; whether I was alive or dead; dreaming, or awake. ln vain I tried to remember anything about myself: my memory seemed bound up beyond those simple limits. But I could bear it no longer. I made a great effort, and by the aid of my arms, raised my- sclfinto a Sitting posture. Oh, how dreadful was the scene! I was surrounded by dead bodies in coffins in every direction, and corpses, too, not in a natural state for corpses to be in, but decked in fine clothes, and surrounded with tlowcrs-~sham flowers, made of t-rapc or muslin, and gay ribbonsâ€"â€" corpses in marriage garments. I knew not what it meant. . For some minutes I gazed in simple un- consciousness. Next to me was an old man with white hair, his cheeks sunken in on both sides, his jaw broken down, as it were, from his face; and he was in the blue and red uniform of a general, and a star â€"â€"mockery !â€"~â€"upon his breast, and around his coffin roses and tulips of every gaudy hue. His eyes were closed, but on his face was a look. of pain. On the other side of me was a fair girl, of nineteen perhaps. She was in a bull dress of white; but oh! how that brought my memory back. I remembered that I had of- ten seen such a dress. I knew not where or on whom. buttbe memory seemed painful to me. This girl was lovely. Her face was still round; hcr white lips ported in a gentle, heavenly smile , her white shoulders still smooth, but the young bosom that had once, perhaps. ilrrobbed with love, new cold, sunken still. I looked long at the face. It was beautiful. It produced pleasure in me. I did not remember it, and yet as lgazcd I thought I had seen it somewhere -â€"-iu some dream. There was many other bodies. and] stared at them allâ€"~at least all that the dim light allowed me'io see; but sud- denly I shook, shuddercd, and tren'ibled. I had at last remember- I knew that I was really alive, and the thought of being alive amidst the dead was awful. [made a desperate effort, raised . and crawled from my coffin. Before I 161-. membered it must be a door. I crawled to it in agonyâ€"~â€"fearful agonyâ€"the pain of longing to escape, and the impossibility of do- ing so. from weakness. At last I reached it, and by another effort stood up and looked out, and in the gray moonlightâ€"for such ii‘wasâ€"l Oh I even! that sight, all alone as I was, was cheerful compared with what was I sought to open the door. I felt and found a handle, but it was useless. I tried to scream, and my voice fell almost without sound from my lungs.â€" th even its slight sound terrified me. I feared lest it should awake some of those bodies behind me, and this terror lcnt an unnatural force to my weak, wasted limbs. I shook the door With all my might. I thrust my fistthrough the glass, and ihenI uttered a wild, piercing shriek. Oh, how terrible was that soli- tude! The sound echoed through the dead-house, and passed 'over the white, quiet tomb-stones, and there was no answer. I shriede again and again, and then, utterly weakened, Iclung almost senseless dread of dying again? to the door. 00 “ Let So-und'Reason weighvmore with its than. Popuqu Opinion.” LL," FRIDAY, JUNE 27, ,. » t It seeemed an age that I hung ther. Up to this timcl remembered not move. 'I felt asiif imprisoned, t_here,’shrinking close up to escape. “Olllmg that had taken place before and this feeling was almost worse the horror behind incâ€"an age of agony. . At last a light gleamcd close by- 011! how it cheered me. Icall- ed for help, and no longer feared my own voice. Still there was no on- swer; but, in a moment or two, a figure advanced slowly and cautiâ€" ously, and, by Heaven, I thought it was the figure of a dead manâ€"+50 white, so full of dread was the face' It advanced, step by step, holding the light before it high up With a trembling hand. I cried, but still. it answered not. I cried, ‘For any else SI'IOIJILI It be except llltll you he, sake let me eutlâ€"Are you a man or a corpse P’ He answered not, but came on slowly, and I could see him tremble. At. last he came almost close up. but stopped and turned the light full upon my face. For some minutes, at. least, he stood thus, and not knowing who or what he was, wireâ€" ATE AND ADVERTISER. «MA,~‘, .TERMS $1 50 In Advance. _ _. â€"-_____4._._._.-â€"-.v Whole N0. .187. 1 * â€" the trance. .' a shudder the scene of death that I had lately gazed upon. Bot graduallythc sight of an old faceâ€"millet of the doctorâ€"~reoalling a faint glimmering of ihe for past, far indeed as it seemed‘io me. The doctor, by good 'cl'rarrcc;‘ was an old friend. and, moreover, a clever leech; and a discreet man. ‘ And what,’ I asked him, ‘is the meaning of all this I’ ‘ What? my dear friend. What have been very ill, and fired you brought to my own house that] might nurse you better.’ I was silent for some time, This answer did not satisfy me, and looking archly at the wary disciple of Galen, I said : ‘ Ah, but, doctor, how does that man happen to be here 1’ fi\l‘\/‘\/ .â€" All my past life was a ,blank, and I only remembered with I accidental likeness. I was so com- pletcly German iii appearance, that the two construed began thlking to one another in English. ' ” ' ‘Justlike poet'TG-Iâ€"ér‘ im‘lt-héf'll said the younger one. How com- pletely I saw the commonplaceneu of that " poor.’ . ; ‘ Yes; but he's cvidentlv a Gen-w? manâ€"can’t be any relation. sides, there hasbecn no etim‘e‘fdr hrs friends to .h'ear» even of birth“ *1 illness.’ ' ' -' »' y‘ "“"“ Therewas a pause. "- “5”? i ‘ What a stupid thiu'g'difdhéi‘ii’ "idl" began the younger2 onc'a‘ga'iliif""f‘t"31,4: ‘ Think so? For my part-l'f’f’l.’ ’ ther like it. Th‘c‘church-yaijd‘labile.. ways to my mind the most cheerful:- place going. But ,theunit is no every day one. gets a settler. move, from over one’sgllead.’ ,-. H. , .5, ‘ Ah, my boy; and you;_tbiuk you- . will step into G ’3 post. :1 willie you may get it, especially as I held!) been promised the first puiibwttiiclmwf‘, ship this ‘six months.’ li-i’tf‘““fl ‘ And I have been Bt’GGIt’dOWHThf‘” this cursed place forthédast [tilted years. It will-be'u gross shame if , they give it vou.“ ' " "’f’” ‘ By Jove, “how‘sa’v'iigé would be if he Could‘o'rily‘l‘iédffllyff lighting for his cmpty‘po's‘tibd‘ifféw way to his funeral! Hal‘hafl too, so awful proud as he ‘ halhal’ V, I noticed here that Stockcnheim ,_ looked thoroughly disgusted at. the merriment, and my heart meltedtOe-ws: ward my rival. ‘ 2.; - ‘ Yes, and he was one of those» terribly affectionate men, Who al- ways want to make a bosomfrienli of you, nolens, volens.’ - I 9 1 E'- is: o: tlrer dead or alive, I could only ,‘Tllal man,’ said he; smiling in cling to the door and gaze at him 5.13119 0f himself; ‘Wl‘Ya my dear madly. friend, that’s my servant John; Presently I heard a jingling as of (100" You remember him ?’ iron, next a grating in the lock of ‘Alh dOClOI‘, (100101". I’m fifl'ald the door, and then the door was you are trying to make a {001 Of opened,and I fell insensible upon my face. ’ ' When I revived, it Was with a feeling of pleasure about me. I was very warm and comfortable.â€" Somebody was rubbing my feet-- somebody else chaffng my hands. ,Somc time this lasted, and then I sat up. I Was in a small room, with a fire me. Your John had red hair, and besides, I know that man. He he- longs to the~-thc cemetry.’ ' ‘ Ohl nonsense, you’re dreaming. Well, how do you feel now?’ I certainly feel a new man.â€" Though weak and depressed, still I was free from the dread and agony I had suffered, and, as I sat up in a large chair near the cheerful fire, and a lighted candle; and the man and l00ked at “16 (Inflows Wcll' ‘ Ah,’ thought I, ‘I shall not» at“. tempt that a second time Wit‘hyt'lu’, my boy. Make your mind ea's‘ygrbn. I that score.’ 4 (To be concluded in our next.) A TOUCIâ€"IING STORY?" Among the well-known characters ~ of the city of Cleveland risen old, ' grayohaired, weather-beaten man. dressed as a fisherman. who will stand on the dock, and at times-milli- ing water-signals with a fragment; a broom, a piece of paper, or any- thing he happens to have in his hand. of the lantern, “born I gradually recognized, was rubbing my feet, while another man, whom at last I recognized, too. as my own doctor, was standing beside me, clapping the palm of my hands violently, ‘Thank God !’ _I heard him ex- claim, and the sound of his voice cheered me. At length I was alive again.â€"- They gave me food, which I dc- vourcd ravenoualv; they gave me a warm drink, which made me feel fresh and hearty, and after an hour’s time or so, I was sitting up talking almost sensibly to the doctor. It was then for the first time that I discovered that I was dressed in full diplomatic costume. \Vhat absurdity I And now you will be asking what all this means, and [will give you the key of the wonder, to set your mind at rest. Of course you have guessed that I had been in a kind of trance ; fortunately, however, of a slight! kind, and one which only lasted two days. You must know, then, that at Munich and many other Conti- nental towns, the plague was once a terrible guest. In consequence of this, it is imperative to convey every dead body, an hour or two lif- ter death, to a public dead-house, where they lie in their coffins till all IS ready for their interment. But as tranccs occasionally happen, and people have been known to come to life again, the friends dress them up in their clothes of state and sur- round them with flowers. in order that should they awake they may not be chockcd to death again by finding themselves in a grave-cloth and a hard coffin. It is a pretty idea to mach death look so guy; for, after all,is not death a wedding, a marriage of the soul to its Maker, which brings us into the blessed. ness of eternal life! So, thornthey deck them for a wedding, and they place in the hand of each a bottle or flask of brandy, that they may not die of exhaustion. Of late years they have been re- course to another expedient, which, unfortunately for mc,.was unknown in my day. They attach to the fingers of the dead body a ring, to which is fastened the wrre of a bell which hangs in the room of the guardian of the ccmetr'y. The slightest movement of the limbs suf- fices to ring this Delhand the watch- er, prepared with cordials and re» storaiivcs, rushes to the place, and rescues the wretched creature from the awful position. But in my day the instances of trance had been very few, and, as I afterwards learned from the watcher, he had never known one before, which acâ€" counted for the alarm he was in. Is it Strange or not that my first thought, when I recovered my me- mory sufiiCicntly to know that Iliad, thus Woken up from death, was thankfulncss for this return to life, and a horror of death, an awful The fact guise was so complete that they was, that my memory went no fur- could discover nothing more than an known and now cheerful little face â€"â€"for he was delighted to find-me recovering, though he would not leave meâ€"the memory of the post stole back by his and starts. At last I took a strange resolution. With a great deal of trouble I persuaded the doctor to keep my resurrection, as I called it. a pro- found secret for a few days. I told him it was positively necessary to my happiness, and he. probably thinking that I required great care, at list consented on condition that I would go back to his house during that time. I then addressed myself to the man, and, by liberal promises of payment I learned from him that I was then in the watch-house at- tached to the cemetery, and, fur- ther, that my funeral was to have taken place the next day, for I had been dead two days. I induced him to keep the secret, too, thatI might carry out my plans, he was to take the cloths I then had on, to nail up my coffin in the morning, and to prepare everything for the funeral, as if I were really dead. thn all these arrangements were made, I retired to the doctor’s house. The next morning I sent out the doctor’s servant to buy me an en- ormous pair of false mustaches and a light-coloured wig, shaved off my pet whiskers, which were very large and silky, and, having donned a suit of the doctor’s sombre clothing, so unlike my usual wellâ€"made Lon- don attire, I promised myself an amusing campaign. At eleven o'clock I attended my own funeral! The mourners were not very numerous, consisting of Lord E , who came in earnest, the two other attaches. who came for the sake of decorum, and a few German friends, whohad been more or loss intimate with me, and came to pass the time. They assembled at my lodgings, but I had no courage to go up there, and waited till they had come down, and the three mourning carriages were filing off. Ijumped into the last of them, in which were al- ready seatcd the two attaches, and, by a strange coincidence, my rival Stockenheim. I had not noticed his being there. and, I confess. when 1 found myself by his srdc,l trembled like an aspen With emotion, and it demanded all my power to prevent a revelation of my real character. But still greater was my amazement when I saw the real sorrow on the face of the heavy, conceited German, so strongly contrasted with the indif- ference of my two countrymedwho had not only not been my rivals, but had always profolscd a tender friendship for me. I could not un- derstand this. Stockcnheim at least had a right to rejoice at my deccosc, but there was no doubt about the reality of his grief. At first, they all three looked at me with some interest; but my dis- This conduct greatly misti-‘ ficd the beholders, many ofyvlipm laughed and jeercd at him, untif thé story of his misfortunes bechme, known. A sailor recognl'Zedb theébld man as one whom he i had known, and explained the cause of his in- sanity. The unfortunate man, it seems, was formerly a fisherman on ’ Lake Michigan, and had reared! his children, lour stalwart sons, to! the same perilous calling. ' ‘ Four years ago a terrific storm swept the lake, and the sons, who were out together in their boat, at that time were lost. The father" was on shore, and perceiving the ap- proach of the tempest by certain signals in the air, climbed to a‘ high rock, and signalled to his boys to hasten to land immediately. ‘ They saw and understood the signals, and hurried towards the harbor; but when within a few hundred yards of the shore, the storm king came down upon them with resistlcss fury, and the frantic father his sons, the hope and stay of his declining years, perish in his very sight. Since then the old man has been a harmless maniac, wrth but one ihoughtâ€"â€"that his boys are on the lake, and that he must signal them to hurry "in be-' fore the storm. At all times he tho- vcrs around the dock, making his signals to the dead, with touching earnestness of look; but when. the storm tosses the waves into phosr phorcseui froth, and his look deepens into a terrible state of horror. and he stalks along the dock through all the rain, making signals, and calling the names of his boys to the wind. Poor desolate old man ! his exposure is beginning to tell upon his hardy frame, and he will probably be found dead on the lake shore some morning, with his signals in his hand.â€"--.f1merzcan Paper. How TO AVOID DISEASE.-â€"Thc great thing, then, to do in order to ward off serious disease, (and sick- ness never comes without a friendly premoniton in the distance, only that in our stupidity or heedless- ness we often fail to make a note of it) is simply to observe three things: 1. The instant we become conscious of any unpleasant sensation in the body, cease eating- ubsolutely. 2. Keep warm. 3. Be still. These are applicable and safe in all cases; lomctimcs a more speedy result is attained, if, instead of being quiet. the patient would by moderate, steady exercise, keep upa gentle perspiration for several hours.-â€"Dr. Hall. . Under the vast city of London a rail- way is now constructing, and is completed .1, miles. It commences at: Victoria Street. The locomotives used condense their own steam and consume their own smoke, so that neither gas or vapour is per- ceptible. The surface of the rails-is steel; and the line is laid for two gauges, and has a double track throughout. The cars are roomy, ventilated, and lighted with port- able gas. Will it pay; or be like the Thames Tunnelâ€"a mere but great curiâ€" osity Z