Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1846-11-26

blast it he'll bIab my secret if try to in
jure him. Pm in HI Of hobbIe; bu
| reckon I'll sleep on It, So saying the
nice young man adjourned to the land o
Nod.
After Fred Johnson left Dick he took
his course for the North End, and cross
ing the Mill Creek, wound the bach
street, till he reached Sun Court, where
now stands the Mariners Bethel, bu
which was then occupied by one of those
old oak. panelled, family mansions thai
have now nearly all been swept away be-
fore the avalanche Of bricks AID mortar
1t was once the residence of one of the
colonial dgnilaries, when Boston was a
colonial town, and the North End was in
its glory. But it was now no longer it,
Iumined by the blaze OF festal mirth, nor
echoed the deserted chambers to the
sound of merry music Fred. entered the
unfastened front door, and passed along
the broad hall, till he reached the small
winding staircase, which conducted him
to the chamber of his Mary.
She was beautiful being. With a
face almost inlanlilc in its contour, and in
the expression of trust and confidence that
beamed from IT; a complexion as fair as
the lily, through which the rich blood
mantled like the sunlight upon an alabas-
ter bust. She was indeed beautiful. -
She was indeed beautiful And for such
as thou, Fred Johnson, had this being OF
beauty fallen.
She sprang to her feet, as Fred gently
Enclosed the door, and threw hesef in his
arms. My dear Frederick, you have been
gone so long
But | am returned, my love : said the
young man tenderIy, as he kissed her far
brow, Soon, soon | hope we shall be al
ways together Mary sighed. Alas she
felt that prescience which the sage nor
the wizard can command.
Frederick, have you seen that rough
man who came to visit you in New York;
No, my love! have you heard aught of
him. asked Johnson, anxiously.
He has been here
'Here!' echoed Fred, then | am Iostr
what mean you, Frederick, cried
Mary, alarmed at the paleness which over.
spread her lovers countenance. Lost
nay-what mean your
Nothing, But that man is my enc
my
Ah, Frederick, will you not confdc in
me? There is some trouble in your heart.
Dear Frederick speak,
i dare not tell you, Mary, you would
Cling to you and comfort you, forever,
cried the girl. 90, if you are guilty, you
arc still my Frederick my own dear
Husband, it shalt be, interrupted the
youth vehemently. % forgive me for my
cruety-my baseness, We will fly from
the town to the happy home of my father.
He will pardon his guilty son, and love
that sons dear rife. Mary! will reveal
all to you--my guiIt-my misery
'Aud while the head of the trusting
girl rested on the bosom of her lover. he
told the whole history his liCe-lelt not
one word unsad. And then Mary look
ed up in his face with quie. smile, and
said, Il love you better-than ever?
But YOU must not receive that Martins
money. We will fly from him. Here
here are the jewels which you gave me,
here are some Of my own my watch; take
them, Frederick, they will be sufficient for
US. We will 60 to your home, and it shall
be mine, shall it not, dear Frederick
Forever! And here, cried the youth,
sinking upon his knees, here swear,
never again to swerve from the strict path
of rcctltude. May God give me strength
to keep my resolution
amen, said Mary,