Glasgow Courier. — 1853-11-15 (Glasgow, Strathclyde, Scotland)

LOVE AND DEATH.  An event of a most painful and melancholy nature has just occurred in a small village in Cornwall. A young woman re:pectably connected, named Ellen Macartney, by trade a milliner and dressmaker, was engaged to a young man about her own age, named Thomas Hardy Aldis, who was an assistant to a provision-dealer, in • town a few miles distant. The courtship—which is described as having been an uuinterrupted source of happiness, and which appears to have given the utmost satisfaction to the friends on both sides—had extended over a period of something under seven yeers, and both the sued and the suitor having saved a sufWent sum of money to commence house-furnishing, and tolset up in a business as a small grocer and provision dealer, an early day wa interned for their nuptials. A house was looked at, and approved of—wedding garments were examined and chosen—friends of the bride from a distance were I invited and promised to come, the license was applied I for and obtained--cards, gloves, dresses, bridecake, everything arrived as ordered, and 'all went happy as a marriage bell.' The father of the betrothed was to give her away at church—her brother was to officiate as groomsman, and the sister of Aldis was bespoken as bridesmaid. The young couple were greatly respected, and everybody looked forward to the day that should unite until death those who through life had been so faithful and so true. The fated day arrived. The sun shone joyously out, and the village gossips were up betimes to record every circumstance connected with the interesting event. Half-past seven o'clock came, but no bridegroom—' How late he was, an uncommon thing for him.' Ellen's uncle, a neighbouring farmer, alighted at the door, and taking the bride aside, pressed into her hands a bank note for 2.20. Eight o'clock was here, but no bridegroom—' What could be the matter? Had not some one better go in quest of him?' A messenger hurried in from the church to say the clergyman was waiting. Hope had given way to anxiety—now anxiety was supplanted by fear. 'Something very serious must have taken place—what could it be?' A strange presentiment took possession of all present. He had been murdered—or was ill. But in the latter case, 'some one would have been seat to say so.' All was mystery and disappointment. There was no alternative, the ceremony ' must be deferred,' and then came on that auxious yearning which maketh the heart sick. The symbols of married bliss were hastily laid aside, and an envoy, the girls uncle, started to ascertain the cause of the truant's absence. In about three hours he returned to the residence of his niece, with the intelligence that Aldis had I left his employer's house at six o'clock that morning, since which time nothing had either been seen or heard of him. The day wore on heavily, and no tidings were received of the 'lost one.' The next day came and went, and yet not a line, not a word arrived to clear up the ex. traordinary and unaccountable mystery. Ellen, all this while, had been growing paler and paler still. Early on the morning of the fourth aay from that on which the marriage was appointed to take place poor Ellen Macartney was found cold and lifeless floating upon the top of a mill-dam, • few yards from her own door—s photographic miniature of her lover suspended round her neck I Nothing has yet been heard of Aldis. The village Isis a state of the greatest szoitensent.—Hull Ad. whom