The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser. — Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1855-09-18 00:00:00

!a l- 8, 'kW.) , SUPPZIEMENT TO THE LIVERPOOL STANDARD. o r " _ I 14 as IVA %•174hen - sh e heswas too ' o , 44 8. nie L and toa lasdnating forlex. "ter-anOther daughter- sat (me morning bers , o f i/ vor ke 'When there was -.announced , that Marl c or ee ,,, a.,mo rl ik ag v i s it or . ; ..:and one never Itt.tile y _ ome ;at any time—the news -IPry. c n o t tat:l:dace—a sort of , feminine : •Paul ei• ty j: 111 ; „trY eoeiety,:das ! has .not the blessing Laetechi;,,„""lig---no tdropfping, the acqu2.intance of "wla, .1%1:411 'tentacles. There:W-114,a suspicious 14 11C14 \ • DodaridgeS little +Lack eyes, 141 ,, d 4i t t ° Zed she,:wa & brimming over,with • news, I'Dotli • - ' e i nformation came st the earliest / 4 . " Nt / c. °ll ,of the fire r elte. "404 asktdheever sympathithig.Mrs. ori. : 4 141 . " 1114 k aot ;tri ' 44 4% vi about tho lire at Farmer Wettern's , , lied th e _,t4r. llea th cote, and his ,accident ? ' ' BB l eu ßlat d Net. e getSip,glancing,in_eaningly at at has itY for it," .46t1 Margaret, quietly. t‘l tha h A' a PPenied f him?" go t. Y ou mast have known—but, no ; ire th 9 " ll , he's not quitelkilled—almost." -1 11 11 4 1,:ibo t bh, : e 44 ), ies started ; and, lo their.inginri — es h , we'tkiee'tiVe answered with ra long_.story,t e ii °4ll tell • w keh, separating truth from fist n, te ll ' lll, ;Air own words. Be en NI mo st home from a;country . ball, .had -his eoli,tezeful of all sights,: especially A orael o 'Y k iPla(te, a house on fire. He spurred it al e al e, bat l oo tu l e 'INA, and reached it ,with ; Rad .thp' 4 , t e• The house was wrapped thqu;hytriner's aged mother .was within ; ant! ;,"efeaving her. Heathcote, with ut llt/144g until ';,, ll ‘i erolls impulse, rushed into t he "" they never thought to see him . the n dead i t i le ,..: S taggered forward, with his he~"nd• and fell insen sible . on f `4et he returned to conse_iousn_es o s, 114 tir• eh. found to l ie • EtY4 l " er ushed b fearfully burnt, and one lo f e ,. Y a falling beam. The young, 1Po" 4 0.14 — L e who; ad danced so merrily li t , 1 118 1 uefore, and ,charmed all, as was his . of tL 4(ted di! auf ak e e dtfeo h rr o s m l f e by the grey morning twt -1147 _Uret L es , e• o p t kind heart . overflowed with t forbi„,. hearing of this melancholy story 4 i: 4 1 3 4 — 'l e 00 1 Over. She could not have believed k thb e e such a deed. Her tender con t 4 1 It 1163 . .er for having misjudged him, and bed 4 Instance of his kindly feeling rose A l b, : et „Which showed he must have a higher to ' 4 ly glargeter beneath the one in which he h eb4. e 4l l. xtetPeaed. There is nothing so sweet_o e r_ jecr e n ki * o ,„ liat ittg as the compassions of a gentl 4,4a' et -4 1, , t hough exercised towards a re el? . ny b , a faithless lover. 47°Itt e al_tiths did Philip lay on his lonely and h a lttt e h I.e" b ed, for he had no mother or sister af ter °ver him. Some few among th ose who - .yr a Ito e h th e . b oo armed with him , . sent t o inqui r e But g, m an, hi liv it iterA t t Y oung for a little time. Q ; an d excitement of the event soon died a - c o t ii Nvl tilt. 10mabalneotro_ 11 16 before the inva l i d oo e 4 Wll4 c losed-up garden of the was old he lived, all had forsaken him excep t Ob : 41 (1 souls who sent him a book now e b - P . ; a ti - f r of charity. Among these was Mrs. IN - "? gr at - ` When at last the young man reco • tk l . tilde, or something else warmer still, ep al o 0 4 ,,g,tther the first day he left his home. ,liad seen him since the accident—Philip %),,f:°t bear that his former friends should see changed he was. His beautiful and c features were scarcely recognisable fo ui r d th d e tears left on his face : and his finel and elastic gait were changed lameness,in3tronlincurea -4lt was a fearful shock ; such . . as c b ut a strong mind could hear, But Philip, through his long and solitary illness, had thought trench and deeply ; and his external' appearance a scarcely more changed than his mind. •vertheless, with all his courage he could not repress many a bitter pang, as he waited alone in Mrs. Lester's drawing-room, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror which had so often , beloretime reflected the graceful figure of the Handsome Philip Heathcote. When the door opened and Margaret entered, he could have .lainalk anywhere from her view. , A 4. hue, very slight, was in Margaret's usually .colotxless cheek ; she looked once at the young man, and then, advancing, took his hand in both hers„, and said, in a frank, earnest, friendly tone, thatment to Philip's heart - 11_, am very glad indeed to see you here again, Mr. Heathcote. ;There was no condolence, no allusion to his illuess; she did not avoid looking at him, but spoke ,and smiled with true and kindly tact, as if nothing had happened : so that Philip's dread and. embarrassment wore off imperceptibly. Once only, When be was engaged talking to Mrs. Lester,; he caught Margaret's eye fixed upon his face, ,with.a deep expression. He thought, though he was not.sure, that those sweet blue orbs were moist ,with:tears ; and the young man would have parted almost with life itself for one tear of affectionate; pity from Margaret Lester. He stayecta long time and then went home, certainly happier than he had often been in the days of his bloom and gaiety. What Margaret thought of her,old lover could not be known ; -she said very little ; but that very night she heard the old church.rclock strike one before her eyes fairly closed in slumber. Heathcote's re-appearance in society ,caused the usual nine days' wonder and excite ment, and then .all subsided. He was an altered man ; his abundant tow of spirits was no more ; he .could no longer join the dance in which he had shone brilliantly aforetime ; he was often silent in company, and the belles who had so often gazed delightfully on his handsome face, now passed him by with a slight recognition, or an audible " Poor fellow—how handsome he was once 1" Philip had grown wiser through suffer ing; but still no one is ever quite insensible to the loss of personal attractions ; and the "has been" grated harshly on young Heathcote's feel ings for a long time. He gradually withdrew from society in a great measure, pleading, as his reason, the ill-health which he really did labour under ; and at last his visits were entirely confined to Mrs. Lester's, where he met no altered looks or obtrusive condolence. And now we must turn to Margaret. She, too, was changed ; not outwardly, but in her own heart. Love, under the guise of pity, had stolen in there unawares. She had been perfectly in different to Philip in his days of triumph ; but when she saw him pale, feeble, thoughtful, with out a single gay jest or sportive compliment to scatter round; treated with neglect,or elsewounded by rude pity, Margaret's woman's heart gave way. She first felt sympathy, then interest, and so went through the regular gradations, until she loved Philip Heathcote with her whole soul. He, foolish man, humbled and self-distrusting as he was, never saw this ; yet he nourished his affection for Margaret in his heart's core, never dreaming that it could ever be returned. " If she did not care for me in the old days," he often thought, " surely it is hopeless to imagine she could love me now, a poor, sick ugly fellow like me." And he would look at himself with disgust ; and turn away from the mirror with a bitter sigh. Ah ! Philip Heathcote, with all his talent and brilliancy, still knew little of the depths of a woman's heart. We have heard 107 of a man who broke the plighted troth of years, because a heavy affliction—it was deprivation of hearing—fell upon the lovely girl he was to have married : and we have also heard others of his sex justify him in so doing. Such love is not like woman's, she would only have clu ng th e closer in his a ffliction. Philip, in spite of his conviction of the entire hopelessness of winning Margaret's heart, still continued to hover about her unceasingly. He saw there was at least no other lover in the way, and that was one comfort. It was months before his eyes were opened to his error, and how that clearness of vision- was effected, history sayeth not. Very few lovers can tell the precise mo ment when the blessed truth rushed upon their hearts, flooding them with delicious joy. To what hope—to what a new and blissful existence did Philip awake when he knew that Margaret loved him ! He counted all he had lost as nothing, in comparison to the prize which his sufferings had won for him. Much he wondered at the change, not knowing that it was due to his altered character, for men look at the outward form, while women judge of the heart. But wonder and doubt were absorbed in intense happiness, for - Margaret the timid, retiring, but loving Margaret—was all his own. Once more the town's talk was of Philip Heath cote and Margaret Lester. They were seen walking together ; one had met them in the fields ; another, coming home from church ; Mr. Heathcote was daily at the house ; surely they must be engaged !—and this once the gossips were right—they were, indeed, affianced lovers ; and in due time the old village church beheld them made husband and wife. A few years passed, and the old manor-house rang with childish voices through all its desolate nooks ; and Margaret and her husband might be seen oftentimes slowly pacing the dark alleys of the garden, with a merry troop around therm Hand in hand, Philip and Margaret were gliding down life's river, nor feared the coming of middle age, when each year brought new happiness. Had they altogether forgotten the days of their youth ? Not quite ; for once, when they sat watching the sports of their eldst son, Margaret said, with a mother's pride and fondness— "ls not our boy handsome, Philip ?" He will grow up almost as handsome as —" "As his father once used to be," interrupted Mr. Heathcote, with a smile not quite devoid of bitterness. He was not perfect—the vain man. Margaret arose, clasped her arms around her husband's neck, and kissed his white forehead and still beautiful eyes with intense and wife like satisfaction. "You are always handsome to me, my own Philip—there is no one like you ; and if I were foolish once —" " When you said I was too handsome ?" cried he happy husband. " There, do not remember those days ; I did not love you then." " And now you do, my sweet Margaret, my dear wife," said Philip Heathcote ; " and so I do not care in the least for being as ugly as an old satyr, since Margaret Lester can never again say that lam a great deal too handsome for her.' BOOK-STORES AND BOOKS. [FROM " STAR PAPERS," BY HENRY WARD BEECHER.] Where is human nature so weak as in a book store ? Speak of the appetite for drink ; or a bon vivant's relish for a dinner 1 What are these animal throes and ragings compared with those fantasies of taste, of those yearnings of the imagi nation, of those insatiable appetites of intellect, A 35~: ~. f