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title hurt 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 foundto contain the latestaiid mostimpor- taut Foreign and Provincial News and Mar- kets. and the greatest care will be taken to render it acceptable to theman of business. and avaluable Family Newspaper. TERMS.-â€"-Seven and Sixpence per Annum, Is . ADVANCE ; and if not paid within Three Months two dollars will be charged. RATES OF ADVERTISING : Sixlines and under, first insertion.. . . .3300 50 Each subsequent insertion. . . . . . . . . . _. 00 12§ Ten lines and under. first insertioiL. . . . 00 75% Above ten lines, first iii.. per line.... 00 07 Each subscquentinsertion, perliiie. . . . 00 02 I II? Advertisements without written direc- tions inserted till forbid, and charged accord. ineg. - 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. mustbe paid for in ad- vaiice. All letters addressed to the Editor must be post paid. No paperdiscontiuued until allarrearagesare paid : and parties re fusing papers without pay ing up. will be held accountable fortlie sub- scription. MaM- «LA_-»A~ THE YORK HERALD Book and Job Printing ESTABLISMENT. â€" RDERS for any of the undermentioned description of PLAIN and FANCY JOB WORK will be promptly attended to :â€" BOOKS, FANCY BILLS, BUSINESS CARDS, LARGE AND SMALL POSTERS, CIRCULARS, LAW FORMS, HILL HEADSJSANK CHECKS,I)RA I‘"I'S,ANI) PAM? H LE TS. And every other kind of LETTE Râ€"PRES S PR] N TIN G done in the beststylo. at moderate rates. Our assortment of JOB TYPE is entirely new and oftlie latest, patterns. A large variety of new Fancy Type and Borders, for Cards, Circulars .&.c. kept always on hand. W miniatures micron-3:9. MEDICAL CARDS. MAM}. «mpvvvvvm n w.» A AA AA- aw AnVA m\\\W\/\.w - DR. HOSTETTER, Member of the Royal College of Surgeons England, Opposite the Elgiii Mills, RICH IVIOND HILL. 19.7-1yp May 1. 1861. K H 7" JOHN N. IEID, M.D., COR; 0F YONGE 86 COLBURNE STS., THORNII ILL. Consultations iii the office 0‘! the mornings of Tuesdays. Thursdays and Sound ys, 8 to 10, mm. IE? All Consultations iii tie oflice, Cash. Thonihill, April 9, ’62. ISAAC BOWMAN, M. D., Graduate of the University of Vic Coll. & Provincial Llccntlatc, HAS settled (permanently) at 'I‘uorsHiLi.. ’ _ where he can be consulted at all times on the various branches of his profession ex- cept when absent on business. 'I'hornliill, May, 1862. 176 1794 m “LAW CARDS. M»~WW>w-Wwv WWW~WM~>WWV M. TEEFY, . COMMISSIONER IN THE QUEEN’S BENCH CONVEYANCER, AND DIVISION COURT AGENT, RICHMOND HILL POST OFFICE. GREEMENTS, Bonds, Deeds, Mortgages, Wills, &.c., &c., drawn with attention and promptitude. Richmond Hill. Aug 29. " I-II-tf. A C A R D - C. KEELE, Esq., of the City of Tor- . onto. has opened an office in the Vil- .age ofAurora for the transaction of Common Law and Chancery Business, also. Convey- ancing executed with correctness and despatch Division Courts attended. Wellington St. Aurora, &. Queen St. Toronto November 20. 1860. 1tl4-ly - . "Oiiai-ieéE/TIEJIEF, TTORNEY-AT l LAW, SOLICITOlt in Chancery, Conveyaucor. &c. Office, ii Victoria Buildings. over the Chronicle oliice, Brock Street, Whitby. Also a Branch Office in the village of Bea- vorton, Township of 'l‘liorah, and County of Ontario. The Division Courts in Ontario, Richmond Hill, and Markham Village regularly attended. Whitby, Nov. 22. 1860. lU4-ly JAMES 30 UL TON, Esq. Barrister, Law Officeâ€"Corner of Church and King Sts. Toronto. March 8. 1861. llQ-tf Mason’s Arms Hotel z WEST MARKET SQUARE, TORONTO. OBER’I‘ COX begs to inform his friends, and the travelling public. that he has taken the above Hotel. lately occupied by Mr. W. S'rlcuas, where he hopes, by strict attention to the comforts and convenience of his guests, to merit an equal share oftlie patronage given to his predecessor. Toronto, July 17, 1862. Maple Hotel ‘HE Subscriber begs to inform his friends and the public generelly. that he has opened an HOTEL in the Village of Maple. 4th Con. Vaughan, where he hopes, by atten- tion to the comforts of the travelling commu- nity. to merit a share of their patronage and support. Good Stabling, &c. JAMES WATSON. Maple. July 17, 1862. 190 George Wilson, (LATE FROM ENGLANI)_) masonic arms motel, RICHMOND HILL, GOOD Accommodations and every attention shown to Travellers. Good Yards for Drove Cattle and Loose Boxes for Race Horses and Studs. The best of Liquors and Cigars kept con- stantly on hand. The Monthly Fair held on the Premises first Wednesday in each month. Richmond Hill. April 8. 1862. 190 v 167 hurrah ’ supply of first-class Liquors, die. ( possesses every accommodation Travellers can desire, those who wish to stay where they can find every comfort are respectfully invited to call. upiii the beststyle. Toronto, April 19, 1861. ,._â€"_.-___._-â€"â€"â€"â€"_~_â€"._____ IJ Front Street, Toronto. day. and Boats. Toronto, April 8, 1861- York Mills, June 7. 1861. Aurora Station, April 1861. March 14, 1869. Vol. 1v. 0. 38. HOTEL CARDS. RICHMOND HILL HOTEL RICH ARI) N ICHOLLS, Proprietor. â€".â€"â€"_ LARGE HALL is connected with this Hotel for Assemblies. Balls. Concerts, Meetings. dire. A STAGE leaves this Hotel every morning for Toronto, at 7 am. : returning. leaves Toronto at half-past 3. ll? Good Stabling and a careful Hostler in waiting. Richmond Hill, Nov. 7. 1861. White Hart Inn, RICHMOND iiiLL. 145-1ly. ' HE SubSOriberbegs to inform the Public that he has leased the above Hotel. where he willkeep constantly on,haiid a good supply of first-class Liquors. &c. 'As this house possesses every accommodation 'Ira- veliers can desire. those who wish to stay where they can find every comfort are respectfully iii- vited to give him a call. CORNELIUS VAN NOSTRAND. Richmond Hill. Dec. 28. 1860. IUS-Iy YONGE STREET HOTEL, AURORA. GOOIJ supply of Wines and Liquors always on hand. Excellent Accuuiiiio- dation for "I'ravcllers, Farmers, and others. Cigars of all brands. D. McLEOD, Proprietor. Aurora. June 6. 1859. 25-1y CLYDE HOTEL, KING 81'. EAST, NEAR THE MARKET SQUARE, TORONTO. C.W. .70}fo M ILL S, Proprietor. Good Stabling attached and attentive Hustlers always in attendance. Toronto, November IO‘GI . I57-tf James Massey, (Late of the King's Head. London. Eng.) No. 26 \Vcst Market Place, TORONTO. Evciy accommodation for Farmers and others attending Market Good Stabliiig. i113" Dinner from 12 to 2 o’clock. 167 Hunter’s Hotei. ifltlittljafi' Edfitbdufi, E Subscriber lagersâ€"lo inform the Public F ll f that he has leased the above Hotel, where he will keep constantly on hand 'a good This house W. WESTPHAL. Corner ofCliurch and Stanley Sta, 'I'oronto, Sept. 6, 1861. IdS-ly 'I‘IIE VVELL-KNO WW BLACK HORSE HOTEL, Formerly kept by William Rolph, 001'. of Palace 8; George Sts. [EAST OF THE mummy] TORONI'D. WILLIAM COX, Proprctor, [Successor to Thomas Palmer]. Good Stabling attached. Trusty Hostlers always in attendance. 'I'droiito. April 19, 1851. 125-13‘ JOS. GREGOR’S Fountain Restaurant: 69 KING STREET, EAST, Tortonro. Lunch every day from 11 till 2. ll? Soups, Games, Oysters, Lobsters, &c a'ways on hand: Dinners and Suppers for Private Parties got NEWBIGGING HOUSE, A'I'E Clarendon Hotel, No. 28, 3t) and 3'2 Board 351, per Porters always in attendance at the Cars W. NEWBIGGING, Proprietor. 124-ly vORK MILLS HOTEL, TII fitted it up in the latest style travellers may rely upon having every comfort and attention at this first class house. YONGE STREET, E Subscriber begs to intimate that he has leased the above hotel, and having Good Stabling and an attentive Hostler al- ways iii attendance. WILLIAM LENNOX, Proprietor. 13‘2-1y Welliigtoii Hotel, Aurora ! OPPOSITE THE TORONTO HOUSE. GEO. L. GRAHâ€"Aâ€"M, PROPRIETOR. LARGE and Commodious Halland other i improvements have. at great expense, been made so as to make this House thelargest and best north of Toronto. House find every convenience both for them- selves aud horses. Travellers at this N.B.â€"â€"A careful ostler always in attendance 126-1y 'IHO Carriage and Waggon MAKER. ' UNDE RTAKER &c. &c. &c. Residence-Nearly opposite the Post Office, Richmond Hill l72-ly - ordeaL .vv “‘ M TOOIY. Esq . I...» M‘“‘“* u “ Let Sound Reason weigh more with us than Popular Opinion.” IF WE KNEW. ._.. If we knew the cares and crosses Crowding round our neighbor’s way, If we knew the little losses, Sorer grievous day by day, Would we then so often chide For his lack of thrift and gainâ€"- Leaving on his heart a shadow. Leaving on our lives a stain? If we knew the clouds above us, Held by gentle blessings there, Would we turn away all trembling In our blind and weak despair ? Would we shrink from little shadows Lying on the dewy grass, While ’tis only birds of Eden, Just in mercy flying past ? If we knew the silent story Quivering through the heart of pain, Would our womanhood dare doom them Back to haunts of guilt again 7 Life hath many a tangled crossing, Joy hath many a break of woe, And the cheeks tear-washed are whitest: This the blessed angels know. Let us reach into our bosoms. For the key to other lives And with love toward erriiig nature, Cherish good that still survives: So that, when pur disrobing spirits Soar to realms of light again. We may say “ Dear Father judge us, As we judge our fellow-men.” Etiiuutun. -._.____L.. .__._.â€"’ The Mysterious Watch. AN OLD nocron's STORY. YCU have no faith in the superna- tural? I have. You do not be» lieve in necromancy, or astrology, or in the power of the evil eye 7.â€" I do. The reason for this It: you are Americans, descended from English ancestors, while I have German blood in my veins, and in- herit a reverence for what you sneer at. Were a dicmbodicd spirit to arise at my bedside tO-night, I should question it and own to being frightened, while you would throw a candle-stick at its immaterial head, and insist to the lust upon its being a burglar in disguise. Yet, mark me, in spite of yourself, your hair would rise, and your blood curdlc,,and you would feel what you would not acknowledge for the world. Bah! if such things have no existence, what do our strange shiverings and shudderings mean? and why do we look about us with awe-stricken eyes when We pass grtfve-yards after dusk’l You dd not. you say. Are you sure Of it? I have never seen a ghost. and I cannot say I desira the spectacle.â€" There must be an uncomfortable beating of the heart at such a sight. I doubt if many could retain both lite and reason through such an I am a doctor. Years ago I was very poor and very young. Icame from my own country with my dip- loma, and nothing else. I found that the great cities of the new world were full of doctors, young and poor asl was. I left them, and went westward. Isettled in the State of Indiana. It was then one great forest, With clearings here and there for fields of corn and rude log houses. Any one led a hard life there, and a doctor, it seemed to me, Worst of all. Miles and miles of hard riding through rain and mud, to visit patients, who could pay nothing; miles back again, to steal a few moments of repose before another announcement of some one being 'very bad I’ I was skin ant bones in a twelve- month, but that was nothing un- common iu that part of the world. The only wonder is thatI did not have what they called ‘ fever’n ’ager.’ I was the only person free from it within ten square miles.â€" However, I prospered, alter a cer- tain fashion. and in ’a year or two made a considerable local reputa- tion. The place was growing, and my spirits began to revive. It was about this time that I first saw my watch, to which all I have now to tell relates. A cold night in November had set in. I was at sup- per in my little home, and enjoying it as only a hungry and weary man‘ can enjoy food. ‘ Don’t ask what I had; it was out west,’ remember. Of course, there was a preparation of pork, and a preparation Of whis- kev; corn meal, pork and whiskey as the staple articles offered ‘out ‘ was tied. RICHMOND HILL, FRIDAY, AUGUST '22, 1862. TERMS $1 50 In Advance. \NV west.’ I was enjoying my supper, as I have said, and a loud knock'at my door was not the most delight- ful sound which could have broken the silence. However, I said, “Come in,’ With as good a grace as possible, and a stranger enteredâ€"- He was a tall. broad-shouldered man, in the dress of a backwoods- man, and his large features wore a troubled expression. I saw at once that something serious had occurred. ‘ It’s a bad night to trouble you to come so far, doctor,’ he said, look- ing at me from under his fur cap; ‘but there’s a bad accident hap- pened over at our Clearin’, and if you kin do anything for the poor chap, I’ll be glad to see it done, more particularly as I helped to shoot him.’ ‘ Helped to shoot him I’ I said, with a start; ‘ what do you mean I’ ‘ We took him for some kind of a critter, ‘that’s how it was,’ an- swered my visitor ; ‘ not a purpose, stranger, We think heaps of him. I’d sooner hev shot myself.’ I know the man spoke the truth, and, taking my box of surgical in- struments under my arm, followed him to the spot where his horse Mine was already sad- dled; my little darkcy knew well enough what the arrival pretended, and made him ready. We were off in a law moments. Few words were spoken as We rode along through the darkness.â€"- Iaskcd whether the wounds were serious, and my companion, re- plied, ‘I’m afraid they be, doctor.’ I asked if the injured man was young or old, and he answered ‘Rising forty;’ and then after a few words upon the badness of the road we relapsed into silence. At last a glimmering light told that we had approached a dwell- ing, and with a short, ‘We're thar, doctor,’ my companion sprang from his saddle and entered the door. Ifollowed him. The room was feebly lit by flickering can- dles. About a bed in the centre were grouped four or five men and a woman, larger and broadshouh dered as any of her companions,â€" A child, too, laying in its cradle, but no one seemed to notice him:â€" They made way for my approach, andl saw a figure stretched upon the bed. It was that ofa man with sincwy limbs and weather- beatcn face. His shirt was unbut- toned, and the breast and sleeves} were soaked with blood. coon. cent to me, now.’ Idid not believe him. His facg‘ was not that of a dying man, arid: the wounds scarcely seemed danr gei'ous. ‘These bullets are bad; things to have in one’s side,’ I said" but men have lived through mor than that. Cheer up! ‘I ain’t down-hearted, doctor,’ answered the man. ‘I shunt leave no children nor no wife to fret after me and suffer for want of my rifle. Inevcr hev been much afeai'ed of death. But I tell you all you can do's no use. There’s a sign that can’t be mistook.’ The group about the bed glanced at each other, and the woman shook her head at me as though ‘Tiiint of no use. doctor,’ he said, asl bent over him; ‘l’m a gonel Doctor’s stuff ain’t no ac-t she would have said, ' Never mindl his words.’ I I did what I could for him. The bullets were extracted, the wounds bound up. He was weak, but not desperately so. I looked at him and smiled. ‘How now !’ said I. "Taint no useâ€"the watch I l stopping fust,’ he answered. Then, for the first time, I noticed that beside him on the bed lay a great, old-fashioned silver watch, the case battered, the face discolor- ed and that it ticked with a strange dull sound, as though it were very old and feeble. ‘The watch has been injured with the bullets, I~suppose,’ said I ; ‘ besides, all watches stop at times.’ ' Not this one, stranger,’ said the wounded man. ‘They’ve laughed about that watch a hundred times ; now they’ll find my story’s true, I reckon. That watch and ,I will stop at the same minute.’ The woman at the bedside shook her head again. ‘ It’s an old fancy o’ yourn, Mike Barlow,’ she said; ‘you’ll live to see the folly of it.’ ‘ So they talk,’ said the man.â€" ‘ Now listen, doctor. You’ve come for to see me. and done all you could. I’ll give you thatwatclnm It’s money valley arn’t much, but it’ll do you service. It Was giv’ is (Whole N o. 195. {to me by an old Frenchman, Out 0’ Canady, when he was layin’ just anniversary asI am layin’.’ It truth. and steady, regular as the sun, as long as whoever it belongs to IS well, and safe, and thriving.~â€" When there’s danger coming. it be- gins to go fast, faster and faster, and faster, until it is past, and so loud that you can hear it across the room as plain as if you held it in your hand. When death is coming that watch begins to stop, it goes SIOWer. Its voice grows hollow , and when the breath leaves the body, there’s no more sound to be heard, and all you can do won’t make it go for a year. At the end of that time it will start all of a sudden, and after that you can read your fate by it and know your death hour. It was so after Old Pierre died. It will be so now.â€" chp the watch when 1 am gone, doctor.’ I could not help looking with some interest at the battered time-piece. A strange story had been woven about it, and the marvellous always had a charm for me. I sat beside my patient until he sank to sleep. He seemed to be doing well still, and I had no doubt but that the morning light would see him greatly better. But western hospitality would not per- mit of my departure at that late hour, and I was lodged in an hpper chamber upon a bed as clean and fraâ€" grant as it was simple. I slept soundly. At midnight, however, I was awakened by the news that my patient Was worse. He was awa- kened in mortal agony. Some in- ward injury impossible to discover had done its work. I said nothing of hope now, and the dying man looked at me with ghastly smile. ‘Take the watch,’ he saidâ€"â€" ‘ Watch it and me; you will find me right.’ These were the last words he ut- tered. He muttered incoherently after this. tossed his arms about, and struggled for his bicatli. At last he seemed to sink into slumber. My hand was on his heart. I felt its beatings grow taint, fainter, fainter still. At last there was no motion. He was dead. I lifted the watch to my earâ€"that hadstop- ped also! There were tears in the eyes of e rough men about me, and the woman wept as she might for one of her kindred. I could do no good now, and I turned away, leaving the watch upon the coverlid; but 2 b "one of the men came after me. ' ‘ I-Ie giv’ it to you,’ he said, ‘ and it’s yourn. - He had nobody he- v {Hanging to him, so you needn’t be 9“. alcered of takin’ it. He must have 5, taken a likin’ to you, for he thought a heap of it. Take it, doctor.’â€"~ And so the watch was mine. It was dumb and motionless, and remained so. 1 took it to a watch- maker, and he laughed at the idea ofits ever going again. This was after I had left the West, and dwelt in a large and populous city in the Eastern States, some eight or nine months after poor Mike Barlow’s death. The watchmaker only con- firmed my susflcmns. It was a strange coincidence that it should last exactly its master’s lifetime, but that was all. Sol hung it upon my chamber wall. a memento of those days of toil and struggle inthe far West. One morning I awoke early.»- Tlic blushes of dawn were just breaking over the earth. It was the month of November, but still the day was lovely. An unusual sound smote my ears, and I turned round and listened attentively. At first I couldgfinot guess from whence it came. Had the sky been cloudy l 7 should have imagined it to be rain on the roof. Then I began to feel that this sound I heard was too do- licate for the patter Of rain. It might have been the clung of a fairy hammer, or the tapping of the beak of some minute bird, save that it was too regular. But the mystery Of the sound was that it seemed to appealed to meâ€"to re- proach me with forgetting it. I sat up and looked about me.â€"â€" In an instant I understood the sound. .It was the tick Of the Old watch upon the wall! Silent for a twclvcmonth, it had actually found voice, as though some spirit hand had touched its springs. I looked at my memorandum book. Twelve had been his death. fa‘hei"s, and his grandfather’s and his great-grandfather's before that ; and this is what he told me about it, and this is what you’ll find to be That watch Will tick slow o’clock of the past night was the was Barlow’s His words had 'come true He had said that when it once began to move, it would be as my monitor of safety or danger.â€" Mike of at last. All else had happened as he had to pass? chain a daintv little Geneva watch. tered silver monster in its The budding development of the mystery made it more precious to me than it it had been set with jewels. It did not stop again. I heard the soft, clear ‘tick, tick, tick,’ all day, and when I awakened in the night. Once or twice it beat more rapidly than usual, and always be- fore perilâ€"the first time when a fever threatened me; the second when I stood upon a broken bridge, which was swept away an hour afterwards ; and at other moments, whichl have forgotten, but which served to keep alive the fancy which I have loved to cherish. Never was its voice so clear and soft as on that evening when I first met Rosa Gray. I loved her from the first moment, and she loved me in return. We had neither of us any friends to interfere, for she was an orphan, brothcrless and sisterless; and so, after a brief courtship, we were married. I have no secrets from my wife, and in a little while she learned the story of the watch. She bad faith in it, and thought or fancied that she could detect the very shades of difference in its utterance. When I was weary, she said the watch was weary too; when I was glad, it had a joyous echo. I know that on that night, when a feeble breath fluttered in a fecbler frame, and the little creature to whom our love had given existence struggled vainly for its life. there was a piteous ca- dence in the voice of thatold watch, I hope never to hear again. SO we lived on together. It was God’s will that we should be childless, but we loved each other all the more. I grew rich and prosperous, and our only grief was the missing of those baby eyes and voices which we had hoped to have about our hearth. It was my fortieth birthdayâ€"4 never shall forget the dayâ€"when the watch began its warning. My wife and I heard it at one moment Never before had the voice of that watch been so loud or so rapid.â€" All day long, all the next, and all the next, that warning continued The strong pulse of the watch shook the table on which it rested when I drew it from my pocket, and made the garments on my bosom rise and fall when I replaced it.â€" Were we threatened with illness? No! her check was blooming, and my pulse was regular. What could it mean. After four days I began to laugh at my own credulity, and even Rosa began to lose her faith in the monitor. About noon I left her, and went alone to a little room whereI kept my medical works and some rare drugs and curiosities.â€" It was my purpose to study for a lecture which I was to deliver that evening. I seated myself at my desk and commenced to read; but after a few moments I began to ex- perience a singular faintiiess, and to inhale a disagreeable odor. I re- cognized the smell in a moment.â€"- In one of the jars upon my shelves was a rare essence Of great use in cases where a suspension of con- sciousness was necessary, but ex- cessively dangerous save in skilful hands. Some one-11 servant pro- bablyâ€"died been meddling with the jar, and removed the stopper, and the room was full of the powerful Odor. I must leave the room ifl would live. I staggered to the door, put my hand upon the lock, when, horror Of horrors! it remain- ed iiniii<ivublc~â€"S(iincthing had hap- pened to the catch. I strove to call aloud, but my voice failed me. I clutched the table for support, but lost my hold, and fell heavily to the floor. I could see nothmgâ€"â€"all grew dark about me. Mechanically I placed my hand upon the watch within my bosom. It had stopped! â€"â€"-and I remembered nothing more. Consciousness came back to me, as it may come to a new-born babe, for aught I know. I felt without understanding ; l was conscious Of facts for which I cared nothing ; I was in the dark ; l was very cold, and my movements were constrain- ed; but it did not seem as though foretold ; why should not this come I wore upon my guard- 'l unfastened'it,-and put the bat~ place.- that were any affair ofmine. Hun- ger at last awoke me; the animal aroused the mental, and I began to "wonder where I had been and where I was. I put up my hand as well as Icould. There was a low roof over my head, folds of muslin lay ' about me. and something was upon my breast which emitted a sickly fragrancewâ€"a bunch offlowers seem- ing half withered. I knew this by the touch. W'iiat was the matter with me? Why could I not breathe freely? Was I blind and deafthat I could neither see nor heart Sud- denly the truth flashed across me ; [had been buried alive lâ€"I lay in my coffin I And all this time, you ask, where my wife ?â€"-how had she borne the blow which had fallcuso sud- denly upon her. She it was who found me senseless upon my study floor; and she it was who hoped for returning consciousness after all others despaired. At last they told her [was dead, and shrouded me for burial. Learned men decided that the stringe preservation of my frame was caused by the manner of my death, and at length my body was committed to the tomb. . I had Often made my wife pro- mise me that if I died first she would take the watch into her own possession, and wear it while she lived; and so, now that all was over, she took it. voiceless as it Was, and laid it next her bosom. For three days and nights she never slept; but at last exhaustion did its work, and she fell into a heavy slumber. She was awakened by a sound as strange as it was unex- pected. The watch, silent since that fatal day, had begun to tickâ€"â€" fast and furiouS, as it never ticked before, loud enough to arouse herâ€"- loud enough to make her spring from her pillow in agony of hope and fear. Those about her thought she was a mad woman; and, nevertheless, the strength of her purpose bore all before her. Out into the midâ€" night she went, and they followed her. Through the streets of the deserted town she passed in her white night-robes, like a ghost, and they dared not hold her back. She reached the churchyard at last, and beat wildly on the Old sexton’s door, ‘I am come to tell you to open my husband’s vault,’ she said ; ‘ he is come to life again.’ He also thought her mad, and yet dared not disobey her; and all the while the furious ticking of the watch was heard by each one there. lt”softened, it stillcd when the doors were opened and the dark coffin stood upon the turf. cal when my wife bent over me and caught me to her heartwno corpse, buta living man; and it has had no change in its regular beat since that moment. It grew musi- It is before me now, battered and worn as it was when it first came into my possession; and you may laugh alike at the watch and at the superstition with which it is con- nected. firmly. and loves it as though if were a living thing; and, for the matter of that, so do I. But my wife believes in it _â€" How TO I’nospsa 1N Busmsss.» In the first place make up your mind to accomplish whatever you undertake, and decide upon some particular employment, and perse- vere Ill it. All difficulties are overâ€" come by dilligence and assiduity.-â€"â€" Be not afraid to work with your own hands, and dilligently too. ‘ A cat in gloves catches no mice.’ He who remains in the mill grinds, not he who goes and comes. Attend to your own busines; never trust to another. ‘ A pot that belongs to many is ill stirred, and worse boil- ed.’ Be frugal. ‘That which Will not make a pot will make a lid.’-- ‘ Save the pence and the pounds will take care of themselves.’ Be abste- iiious. ‘ Who daintics love shall beggars provc.’ Rise early. ‘ The sleeping fox catches no poultry.’â€"â€"- ‘ Plough deep While sluggards sleep, and you will have to sell and keep.’ Treat every one Willi respect and civility. ‘ Everything is gained and nothing lost by courtesy,’ Good manners insure success. When Dr. Johnson courted Mrs. Pot- ter, whom he afterwards married, he told her he was of mean extraction, that he had no money, and that he had an uncle hanged. The lady, by way of reducing herself to an equality with the Doctor, re- plicd that she had no more money than him- self, and that though she had not had, pcra hops, a relation hanged, she had fifty who deserved hanging. One of Dean 'l‘rench’s sermons on the subject, ‘ What We can and cannot carry away when we die,’ commences thus 0p.» positcly: ‘ Alexander the Great, being upon his death-bed, commanded that when he was carried forth to his grave his hands should not be wrapped, as usual, in the cores cloths, but should be left outside the bier, so that all men might see them, and might see that they were cmpty.’ CHARADE. My first in Scottish language means to make a body do. My second syllables and fourth are things that we see through. My third is what some people are whether they will or no. .> My whole’s the hero of his age ; now guess the quick and go. ' CAitâ€"i-BALD’iâ€"(Garibaldi).