■Written for Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
AFTER THE NIGHT, THE MORNING. 
BT MRS. M. P. A. CKOZIEB. 
Under the clouds I sit,— 
Under the clouds and rain; 
And it seems that never the stars 
Will come to the sky again ;— 
Never the stars, or sun. 
For 'tis night, and I watch alone, 
And the rain’s drip, drip, 
Chills me to stone: 
And the wild wind’s desolate cry 
Frights me, I know not why. 
“ Coward, my heart!” I cry; 
u Never was night so long 
That the morn came not again 
With light, und life, and song! 
Never was night so dark 
But stars were beyond the gloom, 
And the rain’s drip, drip. 
Makes the grass come 
And so In the desolate night, 
Reason I thus aright. 
But still is the air so chili ; 
And my heart has little faith; 
And I cower me down again, 
Like an fntidel meeting death;— 
I cower me down in self, 
Forgetting the heaven of light, 
That lyoth heyond, beyond 
My little night: 
Forgetting that God is just above, 
And always a Gon of Jove. 
But the day streams up the east, 
And the sunshine breaks the clouds, 
And my soul-life breaks again 
From the dampness of its shrouds; 
I sing like the morning lark— 
In the depths of blue I soar, 
And the rain’s drip, drip, 
Chills me no more. 
I sing, and forget in the glorious light, 
1 was bnt a coward last night. 
jft0vg iclkt. 
Entered according to Act ol Coupeae, in the year 186$, by D. D, T. Moom, 
in the Office of the Clerk of the District Court for the Northern District 
of New Ycrk, 
WILLOUGHBY HALL; 
OB, 
AFTER H>-2A'2”S. 
BT A. A. HOPKINS. 
[Concluded from page 89C, last number.] 
CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. 
Surprised by their sudden and unexpected arri* 
val, Alfred went through with the form of a gen¬ 
eral introduction in the most hurried manner, after 
his own warm welcome, and then led the new¬ 
comers out to the dressing rooms, that they might 
properly refresh themselves after the fatigue of 
journeying. 
Excusing the servant’s inadvertence in admitting 
them directly to the parlor, he learned the reason 
of their coming a day sooner than expected. They 
had decided not to stop over at B—. as at first 
intended, and had therefore made the distance in 
less time than was anticipated. Not less welcome 
because unexpected, Alfred truly assured them; 
yet he thought of the scene their announcement 
had broken up, with something of disappointment, 
It would have been all settled uow, one way or 
another, but for the ontoward interruption. 
When he had ordered supper for his guests, ami 
performed other little hospitable offices as host, he 
repaired to the parlor again. Mrs. Range excused 
herself not long after, on plea of a headache, and 
retired to her apartment; and Berdena followed 
her Boon, so the gentlemen were left alone. Dr. 
Willoughbt joined them, by-and-by, but Mabel 
did not again make her appearance. 
The succeeding morning,—the last before Christ¬ 
mas,—dawned bright and beautifnl. Mrs. Range 
arose, her Idee bearing unmistakable evidences ol’ 
a night of wakefulness, and having dressed herself 
with tremulous hands, sat down by a window and 
looked out upon the rich profusion of plants and 
shrubs in the grounds below There was a hope- 
fhl light in her eyes, still; as though they saw love 
and happiness bnt a little way off,—so near she 
might put forth her hands at will and grasp them 
Dr. Willoughbt appeared in the central walk, as 
she sat there, strolled leisurely up and down amid 
the rare beauties so lavishly abundant, and finally 
ascended the steps and passed within. With the 
light in her large expressive eyes grown yet more- 
hopeful and prophetic, she left the window, passed 
down the broad hall, and entered the library. 
Dr. Willoughby was there, standing by the one 
large window and looking out, a shade of sadness 
resting upon his face. He may have been thinking 
of her whom he first called '‘wife,” whose home 
this was so long; or of the one who was really 
his wife in heart, and whom only his heart owned 
as such, (though knowing the law would have pro¬ 
nounced differently;) or his thoughts may have 
been of both. In this place and at this time he 
could hardly remember the one without recalling 
the other; and the double memories could but 
sadden him. 
He stood with his back to the door, as Mrs. 
Range entered. Her movement was so noiseless 
that it did not attract hie attention, and she paused 
a moment, irresolute, her eyes gleaming with an 
unusual light, her form atremble with some strange 
excitement The irresolution disappeared; she ad¬ 
vanced to the center of the room, and in a voice 
singulaily low and sweet, said— 
“Lambert!” 
Not in eighteen years had the name, thus spoken, 
reached his ears, save as a tantalizing echo of the 
past. It seemed an echo now, yet how distinct and 
heart-searching! He started suddenly, and turned 
his back to the window, scarce believing th e sound 
had tome from a visible, tangible presence. Was 
it indeed a tangible presence before him ? Was it 
not rather a wraith, conjured up by his own heated, 
imagination ? She who wore that smile, away back 
in those glad days when he knew loving companion¬ 
ship, slept the long and wakeless sleep amid the 
ashes of his fathers. In his own mind there could 
be no gainsaying this. Her presence had been 
missed at his home a long and weary time, indeed; 
how could it appear to him again, here and now ? 
Tet there it was looking out at him through the 
same deep, expressive eyes; smiling upon him in 
the same tender, loving manner as of old, only a 
little older grown, a little sadder, a little less 
trustful. 
The man began to tremble in every limb. But a 
spectre of the woman he had loved and wronged 
this must be,—of the woman he had .deeply and 
darkly wronged, though unconsciously. And here 
it had come to him—here where had lived one 
who held rightful claim to the place the wronged 
woman filled for a season,—to upbraid him for his 
unconscious wrong-doing, bis lack of confidence in 
her who fancied that confidence was perfect. Trem¬ 
bling so violently that to stand longer was impos¬ 
sible, he sauk into n chair by the library table, and 
buried his face in bis bauds to shut out the rebuk¬ 
ing vision from his sight. There was a moment 
of silence, and then a hand was laid lightly upon 
bis shoulder, and he heard again the tender accents 
of that one word into which a wondrous wealth of 
love seemed crowded,— 
“Lambert!" 
Then his heart took sudden assurance that ’twos 
not a 6peetre speaking, and involuntarily rising, 
with outstretched arms, he clasped her in a dose 
embrace, fearing to utter & word lest Hie dream 
should fade away into nothingness. Becoming 
dimly conscious, at length, that he held no illu¬ 
sion, but a living, breathing verity, he gently dis¬ 
engaged himself and looked at her in dumb amaze¬ 
ment, still more than half inclined to think himself 
the victim of fancy. "When, finally hie astonish¬ 
ment found voice, it blended with hope, and fear, 
and doubt, in one word of questioning,— 
“Eleanor ?” 
All his doubt and questioning found answer then. 
The rare, eweet smile grew sweeter still; the mel¬ 
low voice, tremulous with emotion, fell into a 
tenderer music as it syllabled the reply. 
“Yes, Eleanor ,—your Eleanor; come back to 
you once more.” 
“ Come back from the dead ; how ran it be ? Ex¬ 
plain this mystery quickly, If it was not you whom 
we buried so long ago, who was it, and how came I 
to be so terribly deceived ?” He made the inquiries 
iD a nervous, excited manner, and eagerly awaited 
her response. 
“First tell me how you found me, as you sup¬ 
posed, and where.” 
He complied, hastily, dwelling as briefly as possi¬ 
ble upon those painful circumstances which had 
never ceased to be painful to him. She looked as 
puzzled even as did he. for a moment or two after 
be concluded, then her features lighted with a ready 
comprehension. 
“Ah, I understand it all now,” 6he explained. 
“Not long before I left Hannah Wbaitbe’s a 
niece of hers came, with a little babe, who was 
emirely broken down. She was a youDg widow. 
She sank very rapidly, and died withiu a few days. 
I know 1 nursed her babe, with my own, until I 
left; and when 1 went away, (which was while 1 
was wholly unfit to, for fear you would find me,) 
I told Hannah if yon came she must on no account 
let yon get track of me,—that 1 must be dead to 
yon henceforth. She represented me as dead, in 
reality, it seems, doubtless thinking her neice’s 
child would be provided for handsomely by so do¬ 
ing. Hannah was always looking shaip for the 
main chance for herself and those about her.” 
“And it was Hannah Wraithe’s niece, and not 
my wife, that I buried, and it is not my own child 
that I have reared!” he said, strODgly moved. “I 
wonder, now, that I did not make more certain of 
your death; but at that time not a shadow of doubt 
in regard to it crossed my mind. Well, there are 
some strangely mysterious providences, and my life 
has been full of them,” he added, musingly. 
They were silent a moment, and before speaking 
ogaiu he drew her to a sofa, and sat down beside 
her. 
“And now why did you leave me?” he asked, 
somewhat of pain creeping into his voice. “ That 
is yet to be told me, and where you have been ever 
since.” 
8he looked up at him as she replied, smiling 
still, but sorrowfully, as though sad memories had 1 
been awakened. 
“ When 1 went away 1 supposed you must know 
the reason; it is only of late 1 have learned that 
yon could not clearly have understood it.” She 
hesitated a little, as if thinking how best to shape 
her words. “I will be frank: I thought myself 
wilfully deceived,—that you had married me know¬ 
ing another justly claimed yon as her husband. I 
was anxiously awaiting your return home when a 
letter came for yon and feeling that our confidence 
was perfect, 1 broke the seal. It was from Alfred’s 
mother, and it disclosed the cruel fact that I held 
a place which of right belonged to her. It made 
me nearly wild, at first,” she wiped large tears 
from her eyes as she proceeded; “and destroyed 
my faith in everything. When I read the letter 
more carefully I saw that your relations with her 
had not been happy ones, and my heart said that 
you did in truth love me. Yet I knew we must 
part, and so I left as 1 did. When I went from 
Hannah Wbaithe s I made my way directly to 
Ohio, remembering that a brother of my mother 
settled there years before, whom I had once thought 
of applying to previous to our marriage. I found 
him, told him my story, and he haE been a kind 
father to me and my child ever since.” 
“Thank God that you have been restored to me 
after these many days!” Dr. Willoughby fervently 
ejaculated, when her narration ended. “You will 
believe me, I trust, when 1 say that I never wronged 
yon knowingly. Yet when you left I felt con¬ 
science smitten. I never had trusted you fully, for 
I had never spoken of my previous marriage. It 
was something I did not like to remember, and I 
bad banished it forever from my lips. But the 
only excuse I could frame for your leaving held 
some connection with that, and I have always 
blamed myself for withholding confidence in regard 
to it in the way I did.” 
“You arc mine now, as in the past, Eleanor?” 
he resumed, after a little. 
For answer she placed both her hands in his, 
while that rarely sweet smile once more illumined 
her lace. 
“ Let us celebrate this Christmas eve with another 
wedding, then,” he said, almost gaily, yet with an 
undertone of solemn earnestness. 
“ As yon will,” was her response. 
CHAPTER NINETEENTH. 
Berdena Range, searching for her mother, 
looked into the library and was greatly surprised 
to see her sitting in such close proximity to the 
gentleman whom she had but just caught a glimpse 
of on the previous evening. She would have with¬ 
drawn at once, but her mother beckoned her to 
enter. Wondering what this sudden intimacy 
meant, the young girl timidly obeyed, 
“Come here, Dena,” the mother said, “1 have 
something to tell you.” 
In loving tenderness Mrs. Range told her story. 
The young girl’s lace took on a crimson hue, as she 
listened, and her eyes dilated with astonishment 
before her mother ceased. “You can understand 
now,” the mother concluded byremarking, “why 
the snbject of your father's loss was to me always so 
very painful, I did not feel that I coulu tell you just 
how he was lost to me.” 
Berdena did not answer in words; but throwing 
herself in her mother’6 arms, she there sobbed 
forth her sorrow and her joy. 
Mabel was the next to learn the strange story. 
Dr. Wtlloughbt met her on the stairs as he was 
going to his room immediately after the interview 
with his long-lost wile and new-found daughter, 
and fearful of the effect such a narration might 
have upon her, yet conscious that it must be made, 
he led her into a quiet alcove and told her all. She 
heard him through in silence. Then she ques¬ 
tioned, half in dismay, — 
“And I am not your daughter, you say?” 
He pressed her to him in a warm, paternal em¬ 
brace as he answered,— 
“Not my daughter in fact , it is true, but always 
my daughter, my pet, in heart. Will not that suf¬ 
fice ?” 
She kissed him, shyly, as a token of her satisfac¬ 
tion. 
“It is too bad, though, to lose a father and a 
brother both without any warning; isn’t it? How 
do you suppose Alfred will like it to lose one sis¬ 
ter and find another, as this will make him to do ?” 
She blushed a little, and cast her eyes away from 
his as she responded,— 
“ I don’t know, I am sure. It is all very strange. 
Had you not better see him ?” 
He left her. at this suggestion, and went in search 
of the young man. Finding him, so much of the 
story its was not already familiar to them both was 
repeated once more, and was again the cause of 
much wonderment- Alfred’s heart gave a quick, 
glad leap within him as he learned that Mabel was 
not his sister after all, bnt that Bep.dena stood so 
related to him; and to his father’s query if he was 
not sorry to lose a sister he rejoined, involuntarily: 
“ Love is stronger than kinship.” 
Dr. Willoughby looked puzzled an instant, then 
seeing his son’s confused tmbarassment he readily 
divined its cause. 
“I am glad it is so,” he hastened to assure him. 
“ I believe Mabel thinks much as you do about it, 
and that I shall not lose her as a daughter, circum¬ 
stances to the contrary notwithstanding. Go and 
see what she says.” 
Alfred complied, thinking meanwhile how near¬ 
ly be came but the last evening to making love to 
his sister, notwithstanding his efforts to fight down 
a regard which he ought not to entertain, and feel¬ 
ing that an overruling Providence had shaped the 
tangled threads ol being interwoven with each of 
their lives, and would bring them all into beauty 
and harmony at the last. 
Mabel was in the little alcove still, where her 
father had left her. She saw Alfred approaching, 
but did not arise, nor did she let her eyes meet his 
as he bent down by her side. 
“We are not brother and sister, after all, it 
seems," he said. Her lips quivered a trifle, and the 
color mounted afresh to her cheek, yet she did not 
speak. He took her hand in his, unresisted, and 
continued. — “1 am not sorry, Mabel. When I 
was first told that we were so related, I did feel re¬ 
gret. I have felt more or less regret- since that 
time, for love is stronger than kinship.” 
She met his earnest gaze then, aDd he read her 
soul in her eyes. There was no further need of 
words. Closer than as brother and sister their 
hearts came together, in the fond embrace that fol¬ 
lowed. How far short of full fruition love’s hope 
would have come, with any other for its object, he 
realized completely in the blissful hour ensuing, 
during which they talked of the recent surprising 
developments, as well as of their mutual affection, 
and plighted those vows which were to bind them 
to each other henceforward. 
Alfred’s meeting with Berdena, awhile later, 
wa6 a little embariSsiBg to both. With woman’s 
quick intuition she|had divined what he would have 
said to her, scarce Aw el ve hours previous; and she 
would not disgnis? to herself the fact that his 
word& would have been very pleasant OHes. Now, 
however, aware that what he might have said must 
ever remain unspoken, her inmost nature assured 
her that it was best so,—that her thought of him 
was scarcely more than sisterly,—that her supreme 
devotion was yet in the future. After the first 
awkwardness of their position wore away, there¬ 
fore, their new relation seemed the proper and nat¬ 
ural one, and was mutually gratitying. 
That Christinas eve was a quietly happy one for 
all. Dinah had her orders to prepare a grand sup¬ 
per, and fairly outdid herself in fulfilling them, 
cuffing the ears of the youthful blacks with pecu¬ 
liar guito by way of emphasizing her numerous 
commands, and making all the bustle which she 
deemed actually in her province to make. Harry 
Brief, having been informed of the new turn in 
affairs, made himself generally useful, and contribu¬ 
ted in to small degree to the pleasure of the occa¬ 
sion. 
At an early hour a clergyman came, and the two 
who had pledged their faith to each other nearly a 
score of years gone by, renewed that pledge, each 
feeling its solemn import more deeply even than in 
the first instance, and both trustful that what God 
had joined together nothing would again put asun¬ 
der. It was an imifrcssive 6eenei they stood up 
before the little group gathered in the large parlor, 
—these two so closely united in heart yet so lone 
divided in life,—who had lost out of their living so 
much love and happiness and glad content, — who 
had gone hungry for that sweet companionship 
through long summers and winters which had been 
the beautiful promise of their early union. Strange¬ 
ly impressive it was, and not one of those present 
regarded it without deep emotion. Even IIarrt 
Brief, confirmed bachelor that he avowed himself 
to be, as he stood apart from the others thought 
how much joy these two had missed, and felt his 
heart thrill as it had not done since boyhood while 
the last words of the ceremony were being pro¬ 
nounced. 
Alfred would have Lad a double wedding of it, 
but to this Mabel would not consent. It was so 
sudden, she argued; she wanted to realize it awhile 
first; it meaning this new relationship which had 
sprung up all around. And her strongest reason 
she did not give. The affectiou she cherished for 
the old Hall was intense, indeed holy; and it 
seemed to her rather peculiar nature that only 
within its walls could she take upon herself the 
vows which should blend her being with another's, 
and make her happiness supreme. 
Only one thing served to detract from the gen¬ 
eral enjoyment throughout the winter days suc¬ 
ceeding. Berdena did not improve, as they had 
hoped she would. The slowly increasing pallor of 
her face, which was a shadow over the Christmas 
and New Year’s festivities to at least two who ob¬ 
served her carefully, was sufficient cause for [much 
anxiety. The Destroyer was working insidiously, 
yet none the less surely; and ere the first spring 
buds unfolded his advances became painfully evi¬ 
dent to all, What medical skill could do to check 
them was done, but all to no purpose. The hectic 
flushes grew more vivid; the breath came quicker 
and more labored; the pallor changed to that death¬ 
like hue which forebodes early decay. Still the 
victim, though made aware of her true situation, 
did not yield to despondency and gloom. When 
the first premonitions of her fate took hold upon 
her, she trembled and shrank back. She was 60 
young, and life seemed so very dear! Bnt she had 
learned from a pious mother, and her daily conned 
Bible, that God's ways are right and jnst; and the 
hope which she held of eternal life beyond the 
grave was a better thing to cling to than the fleeting 
existence here. So -be rarely murmured against 
the Divine Will. Much of her lively vivacity she 
retained until the very last, cheering those who 
loved her by her ready Christian submission, and 
inspiring them to a stronger faith in the power of 
sustaining grace. 
And when the end came,—when they saw that 
wondrous something which we call life go out, 
smiling backward at them through her white and 
beautiful face,—they whispered to each other, not 
of her death, but her translation, and made of the 
low miserere, which their hearts were prone to wail 
forth, a pleasant song of hope, minor-keyed, it is 
true, as the sweetest songs always are, but with a 
burden ever like an angel chorus, tender and help- 
fid, breathing of melody that but one voice could 
make, and then only in a land where no discords 
fret the air. 
Her spirit blossomed into seraphic beauty as the 
buds bloomed into flowers; and they carried North¬ 
ward what had been its home and deposited it in 
the long closed family tomb, by the side of that 
stranger Dr. Willoughby had so long mourned as 
his lost companion. 
The doctor endeavored, afterward, to trace out 
the real history of the woman whose remains he 
had removed from Hannah Wraithe’s home, bnt 
did not succeed. Hannah Wraithe was dead, and 
her brother had gone no one knew whither. Satis¬ 
fied, therefore, that none would appear with 
nearer claim to Mabel than he held, he eared for 
nothing more. 
When came 
“ Another Jane, with balmy breath and sweet 
With summer thoughts in store,” 
Mabel and Alfred said words within the old Hall 
which made their lives a unit, linking them to 
gether in a bond that neither would ever wish to 
sever. Harry Brief was there, with Judge Gray 
son and Ralph Enderby ; and these, with Dr. Wil¬ 
loughby, the now happy-faced woman whom he 
had so heartily welcomed to Willoughby Hall as its 
mistress nineteen years agone, and matronly dame 
Allgood, scarcely recovered from her surprise at 
that mistress’ unexpected resurrection, composed 
the wedding party and the witnesses. 
And when the ceremony was over, and Alfred, 
looking upon his bride in the pure, unalloyed con¬ 
tent of possession, felt, more deeply than when he 
first said it, that love is indeed stronger than kin¬ 
ship, the master oi the old manse walked out under 
the hoary trees, with her who had come thither 
twice as a bride, and said, solemnly, as if to liis 
Maker,— 
“Though we lose a great joy, and search for it 
long and wearily without reward, while God smiles 
in the sunlight we should never despair. It will 
come back to us somehow, sometime.” 
To which she answered with a low-voiced em¬ 
phasis born of hope and love renewed,— 
“ Yes; sometime. 11 not soon, after many days.” 
®fs SouJf's -Ptizzltt. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
ILLUSTRATED REBUS. 
Rochester, N. Y 
Answer in two weeks. 
Reader. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker 
MISCELLANEOUS ENIGMA. 
I am composed of 38 letters. 
My 19, S3, 30, 38 is a denomination of money. 
My 1, 4, 34,13, IS is the editor of a popular newspaper. 
My *2, 26 in. 29, 28, 31 Is what all should he. 
M,y 32,13, 37, 2 is a city in New York. 
My 17,13, 35,21, 83 should be spoken at all times. 
My 37, 7 is a preposition. 
My 3. 6,14, 32, 24, 13 is a relative. 
My 25. 26,16, 36, 20, 25, 21,18, 19, 35, 31 is one Of the U. S. 
My 10, 9,11,12 is a number. 
My 30. 39,13 is a conjunction. 
My whole may be found in the book of proverbs. 
Havana, Ohio. h. k. d. 
Answer in two weeks. 
RIDDLE. 
All languages I can command 
In learning, yet don’t know a line: 
Without my aid none understand 
A word, not e'en the best divine. 
The lawyer mast forget his pleading, 
Without me, who can kill or save? 
The scholar could not show his reading, 
To whom I am an abject slave ! 
I grant some thousand pounds a year, 
Which only hastens on my fate ; 
I make the beggar of a peer. 
While thus my life 1 do relate. 
My tongue is black, my mouth is furred, 
I die unpitied and forgot; 
Even now I scarce can force a word, 
And by the wayside I must rot. 
Answer in two weeks, 
NEW ADVERTISEMENTS. 
For Moore’s Rural New-Yorker. 
CROSS-WORD ENIGMA. 
My first is in mouse but not in rat, 
My second’s in kitten bnt not in cat. 
My third is in William bnt not in John, 
My fourth is in lather but not in son, 
My fifth is in love but not in hate, 
My sixth is in woman bnt not in mate. 
My whole is an author 
Westboro, Vt. 
Answer in two weeks. 
w. K. 
ANSWERS TO ENIGMAS, Ac., IN No. 984. 
are 
Answer to Miscellaneous Enigma:—Open rebuke is 
better than secret love. 
Answer to Mathematical Problem: — The 9ides 
99,12037 + ck. each. Area. 425 A, 1 R, 30 P. 
Answer to CharadeSausage (Saw-sage.) 
Answer to Anagram: 
There is a reaper on earth well-known, 
Whose deeds are traced on the burial-stone; 
He carries a sickle more deadly and keen 
Than e’er on the harvest-field was seen. 
100 
986-21 
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ii niLYANK ACTION ON THE BRAIN !» 
YT OI certain Lead Ftp - Manufacturers.—An advertise¬ 
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when ‘ tin and lead are in juxtaposition with access of 
water the metals will corrode," .-,pd concludes, "simple lead 
pipe, though tomgrrnw. la safer than tin-llaed pipe.’’ Letns 
examine this *' bugaboo: 11" Invented by the lead pipe in¬ 
terest. and demonstrate its utter fallacy. 
Every dwelling ordinarily plcmbvd contains a copper 
bollt'i " tinned Internally.” to which are attached lead pipes 
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and lead" to the pipes; br^ss cocks'are fixed in the plpesand 
soldered with "tin and lead seams of tank? are soldered 
with “ tin and lead." while the water back oi range Is of iron. 
Thus we liave copptr. brass. tin, tead, aDd iron In juxtaposi¬ 
tion with access of water, and not a paniele of galvanic ac¬ 
tion; but substitute Encased Blocs-Tin Pipe, and "the 
devil's to pay" with the lead pipe trade. 
The public may rest assured that this " galvanic action" 
lies on the brain, or rather tn the pockets, of certain lead pipe 
manufacturers,— Tribune. 
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VnTlC CLOT* 
k.-. ifcv 
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From Journal New York Stale Fair. 1863. 
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HUNDREDS OF AGENTS make from 1 
S-I to 810 per dny, In selling our Patent Extension 
Kkkl and Swifts. Combined. Used i n every family for 
winding Yarn, Silks, Worsted, &c. Winds fail sized skein, 
and weighs less than one pound. AGENTS WANTED. For 
terms, Ac., address 9SS-3tos 
H. L. Siorki! A- Co.. Auburn. N. Y, 
/ I O. IK-READER! IF YOU WANT TO BUY 
V>i» a Genuine Waltham Watch, in solid gold and silver 
cases only, and desire to avoid being -tvlndled by dealers In 
spurious watches, first procure circular (seut free.) contain¬ 
ing valuable intonsatlori to watch-buyers. 
&8Lifo8] M. E. CHAPMAN & CO., 47 Liberty St., N. Y. 
U PHAM’S DEPILATORY POWDER 
Removes superfluous halt- from auy part of the body in 
Mae minutes, without Injury to the-skin. Sent by mailforflJ®. 
UFHAM’S ASTHMA CURE 
Relieves the most violent, paroxysms in five minutes, and 
effects a speedy cure. Price, *2 by mail. 
THE JAPANESE HAIR STAIN 
ColorB the whiskers and hair a beautiful black or brown 
It consists of only one preparation. 75 cents by mall. Ad 
dress s. C. Ul’HAM. 115 Sovi et 7 th St., Philadelphia 
Pa. Circulars scut Free. Sold by all Druggists. [978-lStos 
v l)r. Burton's Tobacco Antidote. 
Warranted to ukmove all desire tor Tobacco. It 
i egclublt ami harmless, and i- ’il -0 an excellent i 
peliiX It puryt&i and enriches the flood, lti> jgoratesy&c 
systeniV)o3sesje. great nourishing aDd 8!mi p then:ngVow 
er. t'miVfes the stomach to digest the heartiest food Jmikos 
sleep icf.\fchitig, aud establishes robust health, JSmokera 
and chewc^j’or tiny ytars cured. Pnce Fifti^ents per 
box. Port /Ve, An interesting treatise on Jr? injurious 
effects of tobacco, with lists of testtooniak: references, 
etc., 8EHT fre\ Agents wanted. Addra 
L)u. T. P.. Abbott, JtJriy City, N. J. 
From the U. 8 ^ibABCRT, Sensory's Office .—ncase 
send a supply of the AYtILotS, Xtte one net it eci has done 
its teorlt scrzlt Y f O. T. Edgar. 
Faou New tis wpsbibAJ;t^ Prison —Gentlemen of 
Influence here bavin* been atkvd of the appetite for tobac¬ 
co by using Dr. Hi.nun's AAhiote, we desire a supply for 
the prisoners of Ibis institujfoiX 
Josxfu SlAVO^JvnrdJh of N B. Stale Prison. 
From the Caiet 'Enjfs.rtR r\ the Allkgu art Val- 
lev Railroad ilanrift, I'tTTSHclmn, Pa —J have used 
the Antidote with gTyauocMS. It is\^rir K all my friends 
BLACESTOXE. 
A CLERGTvAN^Tr.sTiMOiTT.—O ne or Antidote 
cored my brothrXand myself. It nbtfrVaub 
Kev^. W. SboemaKeh. lieUcy'^tatlon, Pa. 
From thtVtoliob Headquarters, Ly^, Maps.—/ 
have gninedf thirty-fire pounds of fiesh in thrt\nionths by 
nsing DrAliirtoii'e Antidote, and alt dartre forVibacco is 
remove^ Wm. L. WAff, JR. 
FroiF the Southern Home Jocrnal. Hac^more, 
MD.-yOne box of Burton's Antidote removed all derttu for 
the Breed from me. I take pleasure in recommending It to 
Bur readers. T. Y. Slater, Editor\ 
FOR SALE BY ALL DRUGGISTS, 
[Trademark X Copyrighted.] 
W ANTED, AGENTS—§7 5 TO $200 PER 
month, everywhere, male and female, to introduce 
the GENUINE IMPROVED COMMON-SENSE FAMILY 
SEWING MACHINE. This Machine will stitcb, hem, fell, 
tuck, quill, cord, bind, braid and embroider In a most supe¬ 
rior manner. 
Paiox only fl?.. Fuliy warranted for five years. We will 
nay 81X00 lor iDy machine that will sew a stronger, more 
beautiful, or more elastic seam than ours. It makes the 
“ BioAtlc Lock Stitch." Every second smeh can be cut, aud 
still the cloth cannot be pulled apart without tearing it. We 
pay Agents from to t'SM per month end expenses, or a 
commission from which twice that amount can be mad®. 
Addraea. 8KCOMB A CO., 
Pittsburg. Pe„ or Boston, Mass. 
CAUTION.—Do not be Imposed upon by other parties 
palming off worthless cast-iron machines, under the same 
name or otherwise. Ours Is the only genuine and really 
practical cheap machine manufactured. 975-l2tos 
P ORTABLE STEAM ENGINES-FOR 
Papal, Mining or Mechanical purposes. These 
machines reunite no brick wort —mounted on legs they are 
especially adapted for use In Mills, Shgfb, Fovxdebies cr 
Printing Booms— or mounted on wheels they are adapted 
for out-door work, Tbuesuino, Wood Sawino, Ac. See 
Rural Ncw-Yorkw of August b'th, 1868. first page. 
H?" Circulars with description aud prices iurnlshed on ap¬ 
plication to A. N. WOOD A CO., Eaton, Madison Co.,N. Y. 
D AVISON’S THORNLESS RASPBERRY 
i’LANTS — For sale by the piece, dozen, hundred, or 
thousand. For paiTiculars. address 
JOHN GAGE & SON. Vineland, N. J. 
C IlULBLAINS AND CORNS ARE CURED BY 
t Doolittle'- Ami-Sore Ointment, (made ol beef’s gall, bit¬ 
ter sweet, arnica and morphine ) Sent by tnsll, post-paid, 
for 30 crs., or four boxes for *1. By express.charges unpaid. 
81 AO per doz., with posters and circulars if desired. Address 
H. H.’DOOLPrTLE, Oaks Corners, Ont Co., N. Y. [994-eowtf 
E ST - 
A.BLIS HE ID 1863. 
GREAT "AMERICAN 
Receive their Teas by the Cargo from the best 
Tea districts of China and Japan, and sell 
them in quantities to suit customers 
AT CARGO PRICES. 
CLUB ORDERS PROMPTLY SUPPLIED. 
PRICE LIST OF TEAS. 
OOLONG (Black,) 70c.. 30c, 90c„ best fl F ». 
MIXED (Green and Black,) 70c., 80c . 90c., best |l * ». 
ENGLISH BF.EARFAST (Black,) 80c.. 90c., *1, IIJO, bell 
#1,20 * lb. 
IMPERIAL (Green.) S0c.,90c., |l, fl,10, beat 11,25 V ». 
YOUNG HYSON (Green,j 30c..90c., *1, #1,10, best 11^5 * ». 
UNCOLORED JAPAN, 90c., #1, Il.lO, beet #1J5 * 3>. 
GUNPOWDER (Green,) best 11,50 V ft. 
COFFEES BOASTED AED GROUND DAILY 
GROUND COFFEE,20c.,25c,,SOc.,85c., beet 40c.per pound. 
Hotels, Saloons, Boarding-House Keepers, and Families who 
use large quantities of Coffee, can economise In that article 
by using our French Breakfast and Dinner Coffee, which we 
sell at the low price of SOc. per pound, and warrant to give 
perfect satisfaction. 
ROASTED rUnground,) SOc., 35c., beet 40c. per lb. 
GREEN (UnroastedJ 25c., 30c_, 33c., best 36c. per lb. 
We warrant alt the goods we Bell to give entire satisfac¬ 
tion. if they are not satUfactorr they can be returned at 
our exnense within 30 days, and have the money refunded. 
GREAT AMERICAN TEA C0MPANT, 
N oa. 81 & 38 Vesey 8treet, 
Post-Office Box 5,643, New York City. 
S END STAMP FOR 16 PAGES DESCRIPTION 
Of someof the-finest Imported and thorough-bred animals 
and Fowls in America. L. B. SILVER, Salem, Ohio. 
D 
ON'T GET CHEATED. LOOK OUT.-Gel pint 
linttipn ii.ln white wraDDers—Wolcotts Annihila- 
