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WW” WM“, , ALEX. SC OTT, l)UBLISHER AND I’ROI’BIETOR OF “ Tun YORK IIERALD.” TERMS: $1 I’ERANNUM IN ADVANCE. Cheap Book and Job Printingli’rtubluhmem. 0 rm um Yoscs Six, Ricunos u HILL. r' VOL. xv. No 43 TH 13 I'I’ Ii LISHEI: Every Friday Morning, And dispatched to subscribers by the earliest mails or other conveyances, when so desired. THE YORK HERALD will always be found to contain the latest and most important Foreign and Local News and Markets, and the greatest care will be taken to render it acceptable to the man of business, and a valuable Family Newspaper. TERns: One Dollar per annum in ad- and every conceivable wound upon man or vance, if not and within two months, One beast? ' Dollar and Fi ty Cents will be charged. N 0 paper discontinued until all arrearages are paid ; and parties refusing papers with. out paying up will be held, accountable for the subscription. All letters addressed to the editors must he post-paid. anvnarisfiic RATES. PERINCH One inch, one year.... $4 00 Two inches, one year........... 3 50 Three inches, one year .................... 3 00 Advertisements for a. shorter period than one year, insertion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 0 50 Each subsequent insertion...... . , ., 0 25 22 inches to be considered one column. i . Advertisements without written direction inserted till forbid, and charged accordingly. ., ,H_â€"_ d_,m ,_ ... .I. . r uymgxmm .J:.mmuwmwmr H q __ V q n“ H“ a “you: arson f l l I l l 11 IN ES. EDIU I’lil.)C-LAIVIA'PI( ) Nâ€" “PATENT M 'USTARD'S Catarrh Specific Cures Acute 1‘ and Chronic cases of Catarrh, Neural- ia,Headacho,Colds,Cou hs, Croup, Asthma, gronchitis, &c., it is afia Syrup. , USTAltD’S I’ills are the best 111.15 youj can get for Dyipepsia, Sick I eadache, ! Billiousness, Liver, idney Complaints, &c. l AVE you Rheumatism,Wounds, Bruises, 1 Old Sores, Cuts, Burns, Frost Bites, Piles, Painful Swelllngs, \Vhite Swellings. o a good Soothingi THE KING OF OILS | Stands permanently above every other Rem dy now in use. It is invaluable. ‘ ‘LSO, the Pain Victor is Infallible for f Diarrhoea, Dysentery, Flux, Colic, Cholera Morbus, Pain and Cramp in the Stomach and Bowels, kc. Directions with enCli bottle and box. H. MUSTARD, Proprietor, Ingersoll Manufactured by Sold by Druggists generally. ! The Dominion Worm Candy is the medicine 0 expel worms. Try it. 700vy l J. H. SANDERSON, ' ETERINARY SURGEON, Graduate of Toronto University College, corner of All transitory advertisements from re u. Yonge and Centre Sts. East, Richmond Hill, lar or irregular customers, must be paid or begs to announce to the public that he is now when handed in for insertion. l FEIFJ HEE‘ALI) BOOK (it JOB PRINTING ESTABLISHMENT. Orders for {any of the undcrincntioued des- cription of i‘lain & Colored Job Work will be promptly attended to : Fancy Bills, Business Cards. Circulars,Law Forms, Bill Heads, Blank Checks, Drafts, Blank Orders, Receipts, Letter Heads,Fancy Cards, Pamphlets, Large and Small Posters, \ and every other kind of Letter~Press Print- -n . ilaving made large additions to the print- ing material, we are better prepared than ever to do the neatest and most beautiful printing of every description. A UCTIGN E ERS. FRANCIS BUTTON, JIL, icensed Auctioneer for the County of York. Sales attended to on the short- est notice and at reasonable rates. P. 0. address, Buttonville. Markham, July 514, 1868 497 JOHN CARTER, icensed Auctioneer for the Counties of k York, Peel and Ontario. Residenceâ€" t7, 6th Com, Markham: P. 0 address, Unionville. Sales attended to on the short- “..Ihortesfsnotic andfin reasonable terms. ’ r , , Mtofficexioi} Mr. Car,- lgt mptly attended to. :7 liltuools'rs. H. SANDERSON & son, PBOPRIETORS OF THE RICHMOND HILL DRUG STORE, Corner of Young and Centre streets East, have constantly on hand a good assortment of Drugs, Paints, Perfumery, Chemicals, Oils, Toilet Soaps, Medicines, Varnishes, FancyArticles, Dye Stuffs, Patent Medicines ind all other articles kept ,hy druggists generally. Our stock of medicines warrant- ed genuine, and of the best qualities. Richmond Hill, Jan 25, ’72 705 THOMAS CARR, caler in Drugs, Medicines, Groceries, Wines, and Liquors, Thornhill. By Royal Letters Patent has been appointed Is- suer of Marriage Licenses. DENTISTRY . A. ROBIESON’". L. D. S. , New method of extracting teeth without W pain, by the use of Ether Spray,which affects the teeth only. The tooth and gum surrounding becomes insensible with the external agency, when the tooth can be ex- tracted with no pain and without endanger- ing the life, as in the use of Chloroform. Dr. Robinson will be at the following places prepared to extract teeth with his new ap- paratus. All office operations in Dentistry performed in a workmanlike manner : Aurora, lst, 3rd, 16th and 22d of each month Newmarket..... .. 2d “ “ Richmond Hill, 9th and 24th u r.- Mt.Albert.....................l5th " “ Thornhill . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23rd ” “ Maple ........................... 26th “ “ Burwick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ........ 28th ‘ ‘ “ Kleinburg .................... 29th “ ‘ p N obleton ...................... 30th ‘ ‘ “ Nitrous Oxide Gas always on hand at Aurora. Aurora, April 28, 1870 615-tf w. H. a R. PUCSLE'Y, (successons TO w. w. cox,) UTCHERS, RICHMOND HILL, HAVE always on hand the best of Beef, Mutton, Lamb, Veal, Pork, Sausages, kc, and sell at the lowest prices for Cash. Also, Corned and Spiced Beef, Smoked and Dried Hams. The highest market price given for Cattle, Sheep, Lambs, 620. Richmond Hill, Oct. 24, ’72. 745-1y FARMERS’ BOOT AND SHOE STORE , OHN BARRON, manufacturer and dealer in all kinds of boots and shoes, 38 \Vest Market Square, Toronto. , Boots and shoes made to measure, of the best material and workmanshiphat the low- esti‘remuncrating prices. oronto, Dec 3, 1867. PETER S. GIBSON, ROVINCIAL L A N D SURVEYOR, Civil Engineer and Draughtsman. Orders by letter should state the Concession, Lot and character of Survey, the subscriber having the old Field Notes of the late D. GIBSON and other surveyors, which should be consulted, in many. cases as to original monuments, &c., prevxous to commencing work. Office at \VILLOWDALE, Yongc Street, in the Township of York. ' Jan’y 8,1813: J. .SEGSWORTH, EALER. IN FINE GOLD AND SIL- ver Watches, Jewelry, #0., 113 Yong. Street, Toronto. September 1, 1871. 755 6“ l C ! lconsequence of disputes upon money practising with H. Sanderson, of the same place, where they may be consulted person- ally or by letter, on all diseases of horses, cattle, &c. All orders from a distance promptly at- tended to, and medicine sent to any part of! the Province. Horses examined as to soundness, and also bought and sold on commission. liehmond Hill, Jan. 25, 1872. S. JAMES, (LATE JAMES a rowum,) RCHITECT, CIVIL ENGINELR, AND Surveyor, Trust and Loan Buildings, cor- ner of Adelaide and Toronto streets, To- ronto. 719-tf ADAhl H. IVIEYERS, JR, (Late of Dagger: J Meyera,) ARRIS’I‘ER, ATTORNEYâ€"ATâ€"LAW', Somcrron 1N CKANCERY, Couvuvascsa, &c., kc. OFFICE ;â€"No. 12 York Chambers, South- east Corner of Toronto and Court Streets, Toronto, Ont. January 15, 1873. l s l 507 756-1y \VM. MALLOY, ARRISTER, Attorney, Solicitor-in-Chan B cery, Conveyancer, die. 3 , A I OFFICEâ€"N o. 6,Royal Insur‘ce Buildings, Toronto street. Toronto, Dec. 2, 1859. 594 D. C. O’BRIEN, . CCO'UNTANT, Book-Keeper, Convey- ancer, and- Commission Agent, for the sale or purchase of lands, farm stock, &c., also for the collection of rents, notes and ac- counts. Charges Moderate. OFFICEâ€"Richmond srreet, Richmond Hill. 700-1 y F. VVHITLOCK, HIMNEY SWEEP. AND DEALER IN old iron, rags, &c., &c., Richmond Hill. All orders promptly attended to. November 12, 1872. A Succession of Crimes. Til-ti A correspondent of the Gazette des T ribunaux, writing from Gueret, France, says: “Our department has just been the scene of a. series of crimes committed by an individual whose final act was defrauding justice by destroying himself. This man’s name was Eugene Bellivicr. a wealthy landowner, living upon his property at Villechadeau, n hamlet in the com- mune of Sordeul. It appears that in matters he had acquired an implaca- ble hatred against an uncle and aunt, A and his sisters, who lived with their husbands in neighboring villages. Bellivier contrived to send away his wife upon a visit to her relations, he remaining at home with their two children, aged respectively seven and four years. At night he strangled the two children whilst they were sloop- ing together in their bed. He then quilted the house and proceeded to a neighboring village, where he set fire to the house of a M. C!cmcnsion.-â€" From thence he proceeded at midâ€" night to the village of Petit Chiroux, and there attempted to murder his mother. Believing that he had killed her, he set fire to the house, but hap- pily a few minutes later the fire was discovered, and the poor woman was rescued, and is likely to recover. Bellivier, after committing these crimes, threw himself into a pond, where his body was found the next morning." , l Tho nervous gentleman who lost' his head the other day, while address- ing is constituents, is considered to be none the worse for his misfortune. Recent evidence about the last allied war against China shows that at the taking of the Summer Palace, was full of silks, the produce of a tux which requires every manufacturer to send in the first piece he makes of every sort. a part of these was used instead of l ‘Wi'iiisâ€"Xfisfii’w i Warm was the sun of the summer, Fragrant the breath of the flowers, Shall SWeet things be but the forerunner Of woes in this world of ours? 0 cannot and may not the summer, The warmth, of our pleasures last, Are all things and all Like rod leaves to fall, In gloryAâ€"nnd then, oh ! the blast? O mantle and fall of white snow 2 O flake and icicle pure ! Well, well, doth the eye, seeing, know Your speech as you lodge at the door ; Our hearts read the story of woe, And our brains sound the knowledge we cost; Are all things and all Like red leaves to fall, In glorynand then, oh 3 the blast? The answer we read in the starsâ€" God’s jewels and man’s keen delightM O'er earth's grand commotions and wars Still shines His incfl‘able light. We float in our hopes on frail spars, "l‘ill, reaching the haven at last, Know all things and all Like red leaves must fall But never more, on earth, the. blast. ~~~[ The Aldine. TH E STORY OF JOCK WILLIS- TON. {From the Aldine for April.) “ Some of our folks go over to the Island to meeting today; you'd like to go along, maybe ?” queried our host at breakfast, on the morning of our second Sunday at Lâ€"-â€". “ To the Island? Delightful! Let us go, of course !” “ It’s a good piece of walking from ihe landing to the church, you know." “ How far ?" “About two milesmup hill and down dale." “Only two miles! A mere noth- ing !” we chm-used. smiling at each other as we remembered how impas- sable two miles of our native pave- ment might have seemed on that midâ€" summer day. But here, with the wooing note of the sea in our cars, and the strength of the salt air ting- ling through our veins, what might we not do and dare? So light was the breeze, as we stood waiting on the bench, that. we scarcely felt it strike our raised hands; yet the little boat which came to take us off caught the soft breath in hex-sails, and wafth us across the channel gently and noiseless-sly as a spirit. I need not pause to describe the walk that followed, although we re- membered it long afterward with keen delight. The undulating slopes robed with spruce and fir of marvelous sym- metry and color; the gray outcrop of limestone rock rending the crisp carpet of short grass, and dry, brown mess spread along the roadside; the halfscore little coves 0f wondrous beauty, whore fleet: of small boats, like white-winged waterfowl, rocked lazily at anchor, and the blue water plashcd softly upon tiny islets, whose quaint rock-work was veiled and gar- lauded by creeping vines and nod- ding harcbclls; andâ€"far ofi‘_tho line where sky and ocean mot, embracing all with suggestions of the infinite harmony; all these, then almost un- profzmed, are grown familiar in these later years, even to most careless eyes. The small, white church, with its odd cupola, and slowly swinging boll, came in sight at length, crowning the summit of a gentle elevation. Entering, we took our places. among the worshipers. The greater part of the simple dis- course I have long since forgotten, but the closing words, spoken in the low, musical voice of the preacher, as be bent above the pulpit rail, sound in my memory still: “ Here, then, once more the words of the text :â€"‘ That was the true Light, which lighteth every nian that comeih into the world.’ Sometimes, my brethren. we look long for the brightness of that rising. Even the eyes that watch for the morning may scarce discern night from dawn. Yet there is no soul but some timeâ€"some- whereâ€"stands in the shining,r of that Light. Every sacrifice of self, every victory of love, is but its broken reâ€" flection. God forbid that any one of you, having felt the divine radiance, should go away into the outer dark- ness 1” A hymn was sung, the fervent bles~ sing asked, and, passing out with the Congregation, we turned aside into the church, to spend the hourofnoon- day intermission. Strolling about among the quiet groves, many of which, especially the resting-places of little children, were strewn tend- erly with bright-lined shells and peb- bles, my attention was arrested by the contrast between the low, plainly ropes, which were wanting to pickct,cm-ve(l stones around me, and a tall, the French horses. Then there was a palace full of drawings, a series of four thousand, illustrating the whole history of China. The soldiers, ignorant of their value, trod them underfoot, andi used them for kindling fires. Scarcely slender shaft of the purest Italian marble, rising from a solid granite pedestal at a little distance beyond. Drawing nearer, I read in beautifully embossed characters: two hundred were saved. Then there' was the carriage palace, in which were found the magnificent coaches which were presented to the Emperor If" _ China. by an English embassy in 18! Since then they have never been used. The iron work was loose, and the leather had become hard and brittle “8 wood. One palace was full of furl. In memory of JOCK WILLISTOI', : Who came to himself, and to his Father‘s House, On Christmas Day, 1840. ‘They that satin darkness, saw a great light.‘ , The brief epitaph, beneath whose l rd’s dealin‘s with l RICHMOND HILL, ONTARIO, CANADA. FRIDAY, APRIL 17, 1874 gprince seemed concealed, aroused in {me a strong desire to know more of , ltho quiet sleeper below. The wish gontleandharmlessasalamb. Whilst ,quaint phrase some unusual signifi- “ Poor little Jock got well againâ€"W i in his bodymthui. was all. His mind 'was clean gone. lmust have been unconsciously be. his motherlived,hc’d followherevery ‘trnyed in my countenance, for n I wrinkled, kindly faced old lady, who sat- upon a bench near by, with an lopon lunch basket, and two rosy lgrandchildren at her knee, suddenly beckoned me to a place beside her, saying, as if in answer to a spoken l question, “The words do seem odd for u rave-stone, ma’am, but indeed the cor Jack were past our findin' out. on never heard ,tell of him, judge?" “No,â€"but I have never been here l listen died that I had a little hopes of him. 110 used to wander around as if ‘ before. " “ Like enough ~yet every child on the coast could tell you the story. It was in the Portland papers, toonbut â€"â€"bless me! that must ’aâ€"been nigh twenty years ago. No wonder you wouldn‘t remember." The old dame’s eyes brightened, and she paused, as if to please herself with the anticipation of an interested listener. “You knew him, then, this Jock, as you call him '8” I hinted gently. “Knew him?" she answered, with a musing smile. “I dressed him the night he was born,â€"â€"a strong-limbcd, hearty babe, with bright, black eyes, and hair as dark and curly as Jamie‘s here. That was Christmas Eve, and ‘ust one week afterward, on New car's Day, the brig Sea Gull found- cred off the coast of Newfoundland, with Cap’n Willistou and all his men, and so the poor baby never saw his father's face. “Poor little Mis. Williston ! I can see just how she looked, lyin’ there day after day, as white and helpless as a broken day-lily, with that little brown head tucked against her cheek; 'twas only the baby that kept her alive. She’d make me hold hold him to the light a dozen times a day. ‘You’re sure his eyes won’t turn any lighter, Mis. Dawson ?’ ‘ she’d say. You see the cap’n had a coal-black eye. And then again, ‘Ile grows, Mis. Dawson? You think he’s very well, don’t you ?"in a voice that wist ful that I had a master fightwith my- self to keep the water out of my eyes, instead of answering her up right cheerful, ‘Wcll? I should think he did, the little cap‘ny! And growin‘? Look at that arm! Why! he’ll be liftin' his mother off the bed before she knows iu' , ' j. . c‘d smile a little pale smile, and put her two arms around my neck, poor thiugl for she was scarce more’n a baby her- self. “Well, the time passed on, and lit- tle Jock grew up, as brave and hand- some a. lad as you could wish to see. It was real sunshine to my eyes to see him walkin’ alongside of’his moth- er, drawin' himself up, and kcepin’ step with her like a grown man. So tender of her, too, be was, leavin’ all his mates for her if she was alone, and forever layin‘ out what he meant to do for her when he was a man. And what Willi beiu’ so fond and proud of him, she got to look, barrin’ her black dress, almost the same as when the cap’n was alive. Ah, me! I thought a many times since how merciful it is in the Lord to let us see so little ways ahead. In the best of times, we’re only ships in a fog, and have to steer by compass. “ The summer Jock was twelve year old, was amazin’ sickly all along the coast. I was nigh bent out nur- sing ‘Bijah Porter’s wife through the typhoid, and had come home one Wednesday afternoon to get a little rest. As lwas layin’ on the lounge, in a half doze, the door opened, and Mia. Williston come in. She never stopped nor spoke, but come straight across the floor, with a face white as a. ghost. Then she put her hands on my shoulders, and says she, ‘ Mis. Dawson, my Jock’s got the fever.’ 1 rose up like a flash, and put my show! over my head, and went home with her. And I never came home, ma’am, for seven weeks. Awesome weeks they Were, Ina’am. The nights were worst. I used to feel as if we two fightin’ Death hand‘to hand for that boy, and he a. tossin’ on the pillow, his red cheeks sunk away, all his curly hair shaved close to his head, and in all that time never givin’ us one rea- sonable word or look. It was the fourth week, when I minded, one mornin’, as Mis Williston sat by the bed, that her hair was turnin’, but b the seventh, ma‘nm, when the fever left him, it was as white as mine is now. “ All but the last breath of life was burnt out of him, and when he did once begin to mend, it was so slow that it took us a great while to find out that anything was wrong. It come to me, first, when I went. into the bedroom, one afternoon, of a sud- den. He didn’t see me for a minute, and laid there a playiu’ with his fin- gers,â€"tben, all at once, he looked up and laughed! That laugh ! O ma'am! all the rest was as uothin’ to that! I just sunk down intoa chair and groan- ed, ‘0 Lord! have mercy on his mother!’ Not that! “ The Lord did have mercy on her, but not in my way. Ho took her home that next winter, and I’ve‘ thought many a time that I'd like to a’been by when be ex )lained to herâ€"- as I’m certain he would-some things that we down here waited years and years for, and many more, belikes, that we‘ve never found out at all. .P I lstcp she took, but more like a dog than a human child. If she sat down, he'd just drop down at her feet, and rub his head on hex-knee, like adumb thing. Not but that he talked yetâ€" a good deal sometimesâ€"but all in a neck, senseless fashion, that’d half- break your heart. He didn't seem to know the reason of any thingâ€"he might be half-starved and yet never Ithink of eatin’ unless you put the victuals before him. l “There was a while after Mis. Wil- he was scarchin’ for something, and sometimes, all at once, an odd look’d come into his face for half a second â€"â€"you‘d ’a’ said, to look at him, that ho was just a goin’ to find it, What- ever ’twas. It was then he took the habit that stuck to him ever after, of clappin’ both hands to his head and sayin‘, ‘It’s comin’ !’ ‘Wbat‘s comin‘, J ocky ?’ I used to say sometimes, and the poor boy’d store up in my face With a dazed, ’wildered look for a min- ute, and then break out into one of his weak, senseless smiles. “ There was little or nothin’ left to take care of him with ; but nota man or woman on the island would ever a’let a child 0' Cha’n Williston’s come to want, let alone his bein’ a poor un- fortunate like Jock. So we all adopted him, as you might say, and he used to go and come from one house to an- other just as suited him. On the whole he seemed to stick to me the most. You’ll wonder at it, maybe, but the poor boy was real company for me, after all, bein' alone so much when Zebedeeâ€"tlmt was my manâ€"was gone off on my whalin' voyages. “ I. used to be a master hand to read my Bible in them days, though my old eyes have been too dim for it now this many a year. Thank the Lord, though, that I can see the page a’most as well as ever in my mind ! I had a habit ofreadin‘ out loud a great deal, seemin’ to get the sense better so â€"â€"moro especially in the Psalmsâ€"and queer as you might think it, there Jocky ’d lay stretched on the rug, beâ€" fore ihe fireplace, :1 listenin’ by the hour. I used to think ’twas the sound 0’ my voice he liked, for he didn’t know enough to understand a single word riffht! y. But however that was, hcarkcnin' to me reudin’ was one of of the two things he seemed to like best in the world. The other was to go out with the men in the boats. Of course he wasn’t of any particular use, but they all humored him, and some- times, in the mackerel season, they’d keep him out for days and weeks to a time. “But I must hurry along, ma’am, or I’ll be firing you out. All this while Jock was growin' up, and at twenty he wasa great, strong fellow, stundin’ a good six foot in his stock- in's. He didn’t look that tall, though, owin' to his stoopin’ some and walkin’ with a shufflin’, shamblin' sort 0' gait, such as you’ve minded in others, maybe, when the brain didn’t hold the tiller. “It was that. same summer when Mabello Devoraux first came to the Island. Her father was a French gentleman, who had lived a great many years in this country. Bein’ out of health, he thought to try the sea air for awhile. I’m an old woman, and I’ve seen many a fresh face- in my time, but never another that was fit to set alongside Mubelle Devereux’. There was a picture in Parson Ellet’s parlor, over the mantel-piece, that came from over seas,â€"a Madonna he called it,-â€"â€"and I‘ve heard tell that it was copied after the greatest picture of the greatest painter that ever lived. But that’s neither here nor there,â€" only when I first set my eyes on Ma- belle, sittin’ one Sunday in Deacon Price’s pcw,â€"Mis. Price was aunt to Mabelle’s mother,â€"â€"I leaned over the forward pew before I thought what I was doin’, and whispered to ’Bijah Porter’s wife, ‘Look there! There’s Parson Ellet’s picture stepped out 0' the frame !’ [TO BE conrmunnj ~'>~o. 4 An Eye to Business. Journalistic rivalries are sharp and decisive in Chicago. A young man act- ing as a reporter of the Chicago Post called to see Mr. Storey, of the Times, the other day and asked him if he had shot Dr. Johnson, as was rumored. The old man immediately pulled off his spectacles, squared round to the reâ€" “ortor and replied : “Young man, do you think I am fool enough to do it in time for the evéning papers l" -4"... a"--. .._ y o 0 o .4_.â€"vâ€"â€"».._~__. Memory of the Dead. It is an exquisite and beautiful thing in our nature, that when the heart is touched and softened by some tranquil happiness ‘or affectionate feeling, the memory of the dead comes over it most powerfully and irresistibly, It would seem almost as though our better thoughts and sympathies were charms, in virtue of whlch the soul is enabled to hold some vague and mysterious inter- course with the spirits of those whom we loved in life. Alas 2 how often and how long may these patient angels hover around us, watching for the spell which is so soon forgotten. ; - Barbarians. He used to go aboml Prior to the time of Peter the Great, the Russians were, in general, barbar- ous, ignorant, mean, and much addicted to inebriation. Not only the common people, but many of the nobles, lived in a continued state of idleness and intoxi- cation ; and while the court of Moscow was the most splendid of any upon the globe, the streets of that city were filled with objects of misery and berba-rity. -0â€"â€"--â€"â€"â€"~~-â€"~~â€" Spring, Gentle Spring. The Danbui‘y News man puts it thus: “Thursday evening of last week was a springr evening. Forty thousand screaming demons rode the winds that surged through our streets, crumbling up the hard snow and frozen mud, and blinding pedestrians with the powder. All night long the demons howled, shutters rattled, signs crooked, branches groancd, and shed doors slammed. All night long the beautiful birds of spring hung their heads and hushed their carols, and all night long the sweet flowers of the gladsomo spring-time shrunk within their petals, and smothered their fragrance in their palpitating bosoms, and boarders screamed for more quilts." , _e__.._.__. O .hâ€" .._._.___._._-. Away from Fatherland. Foreign immigration brings to this country in its train many a romance of sentiment or sorrrow, varying from the pretty pastoral of a. village court- ship, interrupted foryears by the yco- man lover’sbattleforfm'tunoin distant America, to the stern drama of tho f’ugitive’s recapture by relentless jus- tice, after a lifetime’s disguise and miserable wanderings across the seas. In the city of Cincinnati, a few days ago, a wealthy gentleman in his sev- entioth year was married to a widow only one your younger; and the event invited none of the quizzical humor generally occasioned by the matri- monial essays of old age, because it was the mellow climax of a romance begun in the fitness of youth. Fifty years before, the bride and groom of that marriage were lovers in a Ger- man village near the Rhine. Poverty pressed hard upon the young man, and, after many vows of eternal fidelâ€" ity between himself and his sweetâ€" heart, he crossed the ocean to conquer a future of higher possibilities in the Great Republic. It is not told by what vicissitudes the hearts of the twain were estranged, but when, after several years of successful fortune in the West, the emigrant took to him- self a wife, it. was not the village girl; and when the latter subsequently came to this country herself, and was wedded, no tinge of the old romance was in the act. Yet, as we see, the old romance was not yet dead:â€" Widowcr and widow, the two met once more beside the American Rhine: the former a rich man, though hoary with the snows of threcscoro and ten, and the latter old enough to be the grand mother of'hcr first love’s maiden self. And, thus meeting, it was to part no more; for the old romance could not be wronged of its dues even at the eleventh hour, and the dream of youth became the sacrament of age. It may be said of our German im~ migrants, distinctively, that their romances, even when involvlng a tragic element, are rarely tainted by the meritricious properties too often characterizing the foreign sentimenv talisms of other nationalities. What apuro and pathetic epic is this, for instance, of two simple lives: At the Union Depot in Milwaukee, Wis, one day last- month, a fine-looking young fellow named Fritz Shonman, four years from Fatherland, was one of a throng eagerly awaiting acertain Eastern train. As many sympathiz- ing friends about him were aware, he had industriously and patiently won a rising position in a large local busi- ness house, and was now in the depot to greet the girl he had loved in his German homo, WhOIIi he had sum- moned to come to him and be his wife in the new home he had prepared for their future. And she came. “ As the expected train rolled at last into the station,” describes the Wisconsin, “and the impatientpassengers began discmbarking, the quick eye of love revealed the yearning hearts to each other, and, with the words, ‘Fritz !’ ‘ Katrina 1’ the long separated lovers clasped each other in a close embrace. After the first joyous emotion was over, Fritz tried to disengage himself, to present his future bride lo the many friends who had come around. But the hands were firmly clasped about his neck, and would not sepa- rate; no words came from the lips which touched his cheek, and in a mo- ment the dread intelligence flashed through the minds of tho beholdcrs. The girl was dead, having literally broken her heart with excessive joy at being restored to him she so fondly loved. No words can describe the grief of the man who, but a moment before, had stepped as proudly as a king, conscious of having the love of a true woman. His anguish over- powered and unmanned him, and the few deep sobs which convulsed his frame soon passed, leaving him gazin at the corpse of Katrina with a dc! , agonizing, wild stare. The many pas- sengers at the depot became aware of what had happened, and when all had been told, not a dry eye was to be soon." 3THE YORK HERALD lPUBLISHED AT THE OFFICE Youcn Sn, Rxcnnonn HILL. lasued \‘Veekly on Friday Morning. 1 E Tunasâ€"0n: Doug; per Am... in About Aux. Sco'rr, Pact-amok. WHOLE NO. 820. an, ... ._., Di ken -C'ollins. On several occasions, as is well known, Dickens and \Vilkie Collins wrote a short story together. “On one of these occosions,” said Mr. Col- lins recently, “we agreed to exchange styles, so as to puzzle the critics; Mr. Dickens was to adopt my style, and I was to imitate his. The plan succeed- ed perfectly, and it was amusing to see the reviewers point out a passage of mine as an example of Dickens’ pecu- liar vein, and in the next sentence comment on a paragraph of Dickens' as a sample of VVilkie Collius' sena~ tional style." ‘ A Beautiful Sentiment. Sorrow sober-s us and makes the mind genial. And in sorrow we love and trust our friends more tenderly, and the dead become dearer to us. And just as the stars shine out in the night so there are blessed faces that look at us in our grief, though before their fen- tures were fading from our recollection. Suffering ! Let no man dread it too much, because it is better for him, and will help to make him sure of being immortal. It is not in the bright hap~ py days, but only in the solemn night, that other words are to be seen shining in the long, long distance. And it is in sorrowâ€"the night of the soulâ€"that we see the farthest, and know ourselves natives of infinity and sons and dough» tors of the Most High. Ike~00noclastic Affair. Mark Twain’s story, in the Gilded Age, of Uncle David and the “ efficacy of prah,” is similar to one told of old Isaac, o. venerable negro slave in Mis- souri before the war. Old Isaac was, or rather believed himself to be, a very devout Christian, “ wrestled" much in prayer, and it was his custom at night, when his work was ever, to retire to his cabin and devote himself to worship until bedtime. These exercises were carried on in so loud a tone as to be heard by all the persons on the farm, white and black, and old Isaac’s earnest and frequent announce monts that he was always ready to meet his “Lewd” had been so often heard that some rascally boys at length con- cluded to have a little fun, and at the same time test Isaac’s faith. One night, therefore, while old Isaac was under full headway in his exercisesâ€"“O Lawd we know dy long suf’rin for dis beni'ted sinnah; but we feel, 0 Lawd l dat in dy love we will be spahed dy vengins and ref. We are always reddy, Laivd', .. I at dy biddin’ to come to doc, and to meet dy angel Gabr'el. Send him on, O Lord! wid his shinin’ trumpit, his robes ov glory, and his crown ov life, and take dy poh sahvant into dy vin- “ Is-aâ€"ac ! Is-a~ac I" came in a deep, sepulchral tone down the cabin chimney. “Amen!” softly said Isaac, closing his prayer abruptly, and rising with fear and trembling. “ Isaac! Is~a~ac i" dreadful tones. “ Whooho-ho‘s dat l" stammered the awe-stricken negro. “ Theâ€" angelâ€"of â€"â€"the--â€"~Lord-â€"-has -â€"come for Isaac I” came in slow, sols emu tones, with measured emphasis, from the darkness outside. Isaac hesitated, and then with a show of enforced courage, it came~ “ De Lewd bless you, that old niggah haint bin heal] fur a week." “WMâ€"y 0 . 0W Some One to Love. came the still Perhaps some of the most positive proofs that we have of the soul’s inde. pendence of the body is our great need of love and something to love. Were we mere animals, creatures doomed to perish after a few brief years of life in this world, that which contents the brute would also content us. To eat and sleep well, to have an easy time of it would be enough. As it is, we may have all these things, and health to enjoy them, and yet be utterly wretch‘ ed. Neither can mental food satisfy us. “ Some one to love,” is our heart’s cry. When the atmosphere of tenderness is about us, we rejoice, when people are harsh and unkind, we suffer. We begin life, wishing to love all people, and believing they love us. Experience hardens us. Our dear ones grow fewer ; but as long as reason lasts, we must at least imagine that some one loves us. The parents, sisters and brothers, that dearest friend whom‘ we promise to love and cherish until death parts us, these come into our lives and fill them up. Afterward come the little children, frail, helpless babies, who need our care so much, and friends to whom we are not kin, yet who grow dear to us. Some have many loved ones, andsome but one. Heaven help those who have none, though they are generally to blame for their empty hcartedness; for kindness will win love. They often show their craving for something to love by cherishing some dumb animalâ€" a dog, kitten, aparrot perhaps, on which they lavish caresses which, better spent, would have bound some human heart to theirs. Pride or morbid sensitive- ness, may have been at the bottom of their loneliness, and those pots of theirs fill the aching void 9. little. Some one to love I It is the cry of the human soul, the .notc to which every heart responds ; the bond which will bind us all together in that world where mourners shall be comforted and low shall reign forever.