Connecticut western news., 1877-06-08

 me the other, then shake hands with me and say after me what I shall say; only remember-I don't want to cheat you-when you've slipped into my skin you'll be very poor man and very unfortunate one.'
 q care nothing for that,' said Clar- ence, but will be as fair with you.- You'll be little hunchback. Think of that
 tI'm ready, if you are, said the other. He took from his breast small flask and handed it to Clarence, who drank back.
 Then they joined hands, and the stranger uttered some words in what seemed foreign tongue, which Clar- ence repeated after him. As he did SO, strange thrills ran through his frame, a terrible pain for one moment wrung his every nerve, and then he stood tall and straight as the oak that flung its shadow over him, looking down upon a bent and halting figure by his side. The metamorphosis had taken place. He had read of this sort of thing in queer old German books, but he had never be- l lieved the tales until now. sThe deuce!' said his own voice at his side; q didn't know was such hand some fellow. It's decidedly unpleasant to limp. We'll, no matter; I keep my carriage-I can ride when I choose.'
 Just then two figures turned the corner of the road-a handsome matron in black silk and girl in white. Clar- ence knew them for his mother and cousin Linda. They advanced, but neither cast a glance at him. They looked at the deformed body he had been so glad to leave, with tender glances.
 My dear son. said the mother, q am so glad we have met you.' And she kissed him, with all mothers love in her eyes.
 As for Linda, she only smiled and said, 'Clarence;' but looking on the three, quiet, unnoticed stranger, Clar. ence saw what he had never seen in his own body. There was more than cousinly liking in the dear girls eyes and when she said 'Clarence,' her voice told the story better than her smile.
 To be sure, the figure that stood between them was not straight or hand some; but what of that? How fond those two were of him! The handsome fellow, leaning against the tree, fell bangs of regret and sorrows pierce his soul as the three turned away and le'' him alone with his new-found beauty he saw them pass out of sight, and sunl upon the grass and hid his face witt his hands.
 oh, what madman have been he moaned. q have cast away my mothers tenderness. have cast ava, Linda's love--for now see plainly tha she loved me-
 How long he lay in the grass he dit not know; at last hand touched him 'Clarence,' said voice, Clarence you had been gone so long your mother grew anxious and sent me to see if could find you. You are not i'll, cousi, ClarenceP'
 Then he raised his head-Linda knel beside him. He was lying near tn, river under the old oak trees, but ht saw his own deformed figure in tn, water, and knew that the stranger anC his magic flask, and the transformation that had come of the draught he swal lowed, and the incantation he hat uttered, had been only a dream.
 Yes, he was not the handsome fellow who had been left alone and loveless t. ge his way.
 I am not i'll, Cousin Linda, he said softly. q have been asleep and dream ing. I dreamt strange dream. If yo, knew what it was, you would be angry perhaps. 1 am not dreaming now Linda have mirror there in thu water that would drive away sucl dreams; but what I dreamt was tha you loved me, Linda, as I love you.'
 And Linda listened. She did not talk away her hand; and now he clasped i close and looked into her eyes. But for the mirror yonder, nigh hope that it was not dream, h' whispered.
 sThe water into which you look re fleets the face that is dearest to me O any upon earth, and the dream is tru, one, Clarence. It is not the body tha we women love-it is the soul.'
 So there was great wedding, ant they lived happily ever after.