{ her signals. She signals an enemy’s ship. Mr. Crouth- ers, the sooner We are schooner-rigged the better for us!”’ “Ay, uy, sir—all hauds to work 1’ cried the first lieuten- ant in a tone just loud enough to be heard on board. twas wonderful, with allthe yard apd must ropes ready rove, how swiftly after the square sails were clewed up and furled, the rig of the ship was altered. It matter- ed not fer the darkness, every rope and block was in its place, each man Knew where to take hold, and in an incredibly-brief space of time with the mizzen-mast un- shipped and @very¥ard down, the ship was transformed in a fore-endeatt schoener, a looking on@@bt that; iy White, all ; its is was’ going on tain St. TON: 4 watching ete nals made by the vessel up the riverye nd the vessels an “Pot your he shore, sir? said he to his first lieuteénants) “Th is coming downs fast, right{@Stern of us, and’ ¥ well get out of depway. Dhovgh were it outsi water, I would Hef shun the encounter, Butt we brought. to!bay, a hundred War-dogs would: us. So we must run if we can, and fight when? longer be avoided.” Brought to, with the wind nearly abeam, the ship, now in her new rig, keeled nearly rail under to the fresh gale, but she shot swiftly over into the smoother water on the windward shore. Them slacking, off sheets she again stood down the river. Her speed now Was not nearso great as when under her square Sails, for Then ‘Sle. spread thrice the amount of canvas. But it was evident {rom the) fre- quent lights seen on the lett bank that they were already at, or Closely approaching to, the upper end of the city. Now, below, from one side of the river to the other, could be seen lights flashing and rockets rising, from ves- sels or boats, which told not only hew general the alarm was, but what extraordinary measures hadbeen taken to intercept a passage. “Och, but this is aswate pictur said-the old pilot in his droll was multitude of ughts toward whic ‘they were speeding. The captain made no answer. ‘or he had been intently watching the course of the Yuilure, exhibited by the fact that every five minutes since she had passed the Ameri- can vesse} under the Palisades, she had fired an alarm gun. ; “I must oats below. an’t it, Captain dear ?? as he glanced at the get rid of that ship!” he said, in a tone only loud enough te be heard by those close by him. Then he gave directions to the men at the helm to keep away ona course which if she did not head-reach him would throw her in speaking distance cf the enemy. “Ready every man to board if the enemy discovers who we are, but silence until then!’ he cried, ina low, Stern tone. On—on the vessel drove now, under free sheets, and St. John ordered a dim light hoisted in her fore rigging, In a little while it was evident that the twoships woulu pass very close to each other, as one was heading eastwardly, and the other standmg diagonally toward the Jersey shore. 4 The American crew stood silent and almost breathless at their guns, expeeting cach instant toe hear their young captain give the order to fire, before the vessels should come crushing tegether. The Isuglish vessel was now fairly in hailing distance, and her deck ofticer seemed to have been informed @f the vicinity’ of the other, for he shouted through a fumpet: “Schooner, ahoy! What schooner is that?” “Fhe schooner Sally Stiggins, from Harlem Creek, bound over to the Jarsies with empty barrels for cider !” cried St. John, with a strong nasal accent. “Have you seen aship on the river to-night?’ asked the English officer again. “Yes—l kind o' think ‘twas a ship, some kind of a square-rigger any how, was clewin’ up, and furlin’ in the Spuyten Dyvel Cove, jest as we come out !”’ “Good. Give the word or you’lbnet pass the boats be- jow. . You shall have it for the good news you've given us. Kine George atthe heln, will pass you anyWhere to-night.? ioe sir—I'm only goin’ arter ancther load of cider.” St. John, as he said this, heard with wild joy the orders on board the Vulture to luff, brace in the yards, and Lre- duce sail, as she at once changed her course fer the mogth of Hariem Creek. A “Now tor the gauntlet!"! he cried, with a cheerful Voice. “Fortune is favoring us nobly, my bravecomrades, and if we once pass the lines ahead we will have no trouble in getting to sea.” Silence was yet preserved, and the transformed ship sweptswiftly on. If was new evident that she was ap-’ proaching the lower part of the city. .The lights ashore were very thick, On the river they were plentiful also, their hight from the water showing that they were sts- pended in the rigging of the Many war-ships and tran- Sports at anchor there. f Suddenly, as the vessel Swept on, she was hailed from a Deat close alongside. “What schooner is that ? shouted. “Got no ’éasion too, ] reckon, with King George at the het P? cried St. John, in this nasal twang, “No—yor are all rignut | Keep on your course t? shout- ed “Ig. Sate and te yessel Was svon out of peagh opi oat. a : Pas ‘Twicemore—once fort Was St. J6nR failed, bat cOuAcrsign passed Inm, a ey Piog Heave too or we fire!’ was a ship*and - once front beat’ 8 ready frejoinder with thi he sve) proudly,and safely. ; oo T of boats and the anchorage4 passed. Aud it waS none too repg th ie wind began to Jessen, and already im the east thesfrayish, tinge began to appear which indicated the approach ef days “Our object is accomplished; We have passed the most imminent danger,’ said St. John. But we must have every Stitch of canvas onif the wind slackens, or daylight will find us even yet too. close tothe enemy. Up with our light spars and square-yards, and in with the mizzen- ay “We have becn a schooner long enough for to- night. ; - Again the busy crew were at work, and, like magic, the change was made. When tlé day dawned the beau- tifulship, under @ cloud of canvas, with her republican flag fying, was moving majestically down New York Bay, between Staten Island and Long Island, not a sail to be seen ahead, and only one slip under canvas astern. That ship was the Vulture, under reduced sail, stand- ing down the river close along tue Eastern shore, having yainly songht for the ship which had been reported at the mouth of Harlem Creek. St. John could not now repress the joy he felt at hav- ing thus outwitted the enemy, and to show lis triumph ort tine the core r vessels Was ooeeantd shortwasted and Clamsy- mh ee and [aif boldiy across to theleastern. en Vulture. “Then it’sin a mighty short time we’ll be heading away to the nor’ard and east’ard, captain, dear,’’ said the pilot. “There’s a bit of a channel that isn’t laid down on the charts, but it is myself that knows it well; and if they try to foliow us, there’s not wan iv thim but’ll be kissing the hard sand.’? Captain St. John smiled. He had every confidence in the knowleage of his pilot, and as tomnis “leyalty, no doubt; for where is the true Irishman to be found, who— once free from British tyranny—dovs bot hate the gov- ernment Which has so leng-oppressed and enslaved his | Bative land ? : : ee ; CHAPTER VIt. Pie John Ferris stood by the side of Admiral Graves, on the forecastle of . the war-ship Vulture, a8 she ram down the iver, opposite..the city, just as.day was dawning, In vain they had ned every nook and inlet above, along the rivér, to findithe square-rigged vessel which the Jer- ssey_ sch@oner pinien fave come part of We way down, and then turned back When hercommands® found his passage 80 Comy pletely blockaded, the admiral» determined to ran down to his fleet, and give fresh instructions, and again bun up the river in search of the rebel ship. ; Suddenly, Ferris, who had a spy-glass in (his hand, looking through it down the bay, uttered a cry of angry vexation. Pointing to a ship covered with canvas from her truck to tre decky he said: “There she is! There is the same craft that I saw up the river. J would swearto herina fleet of a thousand sails, “Impossible!” cried the admiral. “She never could have passed my line of boats and vessels without an alarm being given. It cannot be she!” “What slip would carry the Yankee fleg over a British ensign, union down, but the one we have been looking for? Itell you, sir, 1 know the ship. In all your fleet there is no vessel so tauntin her spars, or with such a spread of sail.’’ “You are right, there. lines, unseen and unattacked. with all that start; pursuit is almost useless. alarm must be given.” Turning to his signal officer, the admiral gave the or- der to signalize: “Anuenemy to leeward, Make sailin chase.”! Then, firing alarm guns in rapid succession, he crowded op every sail he could sect. But he saw plainiy, that un- less intercepted from outsiue, the ship would surely get tosea. For, fast as the Vulture was known to be, tae American evidently dropped her every minute. And when at last the frigates were seen coming up, having been completely deceived in the character of the ship that passed them, the rage and disappointment of the admiral knew no bounds. But anger could not help the case. When the frigates, notified by signal of the nature of the craft which had been fairly under their guns, hove about also in chase, the American was stretching out to sea, through a chan- nel entirely unknown to them, and not downon their charts.* For a little while only was the chase Kept up, for the American left his pursuers so rapidly that it was folly to hope to overtake him. But the admiralywhen he ran back in the Vulture swore that he would fit cut a half-dozen cruisers for no other purpose that to overtake that ship, and capture her. Even yet he had no idea however, that the ship and the schooner bound to the Jarsies were one and the same. CHAPTER YII. Again the renegade tory and spy stood in the presence of Sur Henry Clinton. “So,’’ said the lpr general, with a flushed and an- gry face, “Sir Henry St. John Marston has got to sea with iis ship.” But how could she pass our Icannot see intoit. And But the “J brought you news of herbeing launched and ready to come down, apd I piloted the Admiral as far np the river as he was willing to go. It was not my duty to dis- cover or to seize the ship. I piloted the Vulture safely, that was all I could do. I donot merit anger from you.” “True, man—trve! But it is vexatious to have that ship get to sea. Tuere is fault somewhere. But why was { not sooner informed of her existence ! She should have been destroyed on the stocks, She should never have been launched, or fitted ont.’ “I know it, your Excellency. But so secretly was the work carried on that I never got even an inkling of it un- til yesterday morning. I knew that Sir Henry Marston vas boarding at the honse of Iians Vanderbilt, but thought he was merely courting his pretty daughter, and fooling away 2is time.” ‘Who is this Hans Vanderbit ?* “4 rich old farmer, a Hollander by descent, who is as yank @ rebel as ever cursed the king.”’ “fe must be punished |! Ile must be punished |” cried the British general. *Leave me to see to that, Sir Ilenry,’’ said Ferris, bit- terly. ‘My hawks shall attend to Ins case. His cattle ghall be inside your lines in less than three days, and if he:bas @ roof left to cover him, it will be because fire can’t born it.” “You tories are more bitter against “who are im fhe regular servico-of ihe the rebels than we eing.?4, him. But Sir Henry, ? trespass on your time? If you think I have earned the gold you promised me, I beg that you will order it paid to me, so that Ican get back to my r I do not want to lose any time in rewarding Hans Vanderbilt for the hand he bas had in building and_fit- ting out that ship, andio harboring her commander.” The general rang a bell on his table. : “Send Major Brayton, the paymas‘er, here !’’ he said,to the servant who answered it. In a short time the officer entered the room. “Mojor, pay this man Ferris one hundred guineas, and charge it on the recret service fund,” said Sir Henry. Mojor Brayton bowed his acquiescence to the order,and saying to Ferris, “Come with me, sir’’—left the room iu his company. CHAPTER IX. Black Satan had been well fed and groomed, while Fer- ris was absent on the water, and when the tory, once more mounted on his back rode out of the city to rejoin bis villainous command, the horse bounded wildly on, spurning the ground over which he leaped as if he never had felt fatigue, and mortify them. he hoisted ‘the British flag union down under his own colors, and fired” gan after gun in rapid succession. lie soon saw that he was noticed by the ships astern, | but they were now out of range, and if the wind held, lis escape to séa was a certainty. “How do you like this, parser? he asked, the cide- yant schoolmaster, heavy-eyed from watching. ‘Jerusalem! but you did feol’em slick!’ said Mr. Bangs. ‘Jest to think they, were so close and didn’t dream ‘twas us.’? “Sail, hol’? shouted a look-out forward. Captain St. John caught a spy-glass from near the 'bin- nacie and went forward. The sight he saw was not plea- sant; but no change in his countevance said so. “Go below, sir, to my signal chest,”’ said he te a young Hieutenant, “and geo Nos. 13, %, 2) and 5.. Run therm up forward as Ihave named them. Haul down our own flag, afi there, and hoist the English flag at the peak. There are two frigates below ccnilng in from sea, and we must pass them under a false Dame and 4 false flag, or else, With provably four tities our furce in men, and full thrice our weight of metal, they would sink or capture us if we. would submit.to capture. If fortunate as here- tofore, all will go right. And now let every man be ready for battle, if our rase should’ be discovered.’ In'2 few minutes the English eclurs were at the peak, and a signal number at tie fore, siguilying the vessel fo be H.-B. sty’s ship-df-war Arethusa. ‘ Captain St. Join went below, and soon returned in the full uniform of a captain in the Royal Navy, and bac several of Bis officers near him On the quarter-deck similarly dressed. With cyery sail set, below and aloft, which could pas- ibly the Sea Witch moved swiftly on, but the idently dying away and St. Jolin cast many an anxious look to windward. “Oh, blow, good. Boreas, biow! he muttered. us out into blue water, and we ask ho nfore.” yes were now on the ships ahead, which came up xy bay, making Short ticks, as was necessary heavy draught of water. closely, guod Dennis,” said Captain st. nvif weean possibly so steer us to it will be all the better. hip inthe shoalest water I can, et her touch, must we?! it, no, for once aground, we would rn—they are aware now of what full a dezen of them.” jounds! So they’ are. Let tem kKape on side, and if they don'tlearna hit of the “yer seen before, lef Dinnis Mlanhagin be “Watt fool? vigates will not. take the hint till we ,? said St. Jolin, anxiously. spense one way orthe t “Ten minates gore atlOf that nearest frigate." ; run in three fathoms, on the edge said. the pilot, a§ he told the helnis- ( & point more westerly., °- : Sohn now placed himself in & conspicuous position weather side of the ship, 80 that the spy-glags oin the frigate could cleatly make out his uni- ddenly a sigual floated from the masthead of nearest frigate. en the knowledge of {4e ex-ofticer of the Royal Navy opporiunely into play. > asks where.the Arethusa is bound,’ hesaid. "Get i4d—3-—8 from my signal-chest. The answer Sadiniral at Halifax, with dispatctes.? That CROUS for passing on without stopping to Is: “1 TS proved; for as the frigate could nof run with- in hail, on account.of, the shoal water, she stood of on the other tacky and now the American ship, Wes tairty to leeward of bo:h the.frigates, : stern, the whgie bay, some eight or ten miles da white with Canvas, and gun after gun was ) by the smoke of the guns, though ou rts came faintly over the water, “wenins Lon, a Wind. jusfas secon &S we get far enough out,’’ said the captain, “for it is our DEst point of sailing, and in an hour more every oue of them—Lrigates and al will % fired, a the sound of th be after us! Mile afrer mile was passed over swiftly, and the city | was left jar behind. | It was nearly nignt, and only a couple of leagues now intervened between the spot where John Ferris halted for a moment to rest and water his horse by a wayside spring, apd the quarry rendezvous of the Hawks. While the horse was drinking and afterward cropping a few tufts of grass growing on the bank, .the tory took out his bag of gold, and cut of mere pleasure began counting it over. For having counted it when he re- ecived it from the the paymaster hie knew Well that the bag contained one hundred golden guineas—no niore, 0, 1eS3. «“Lifty of these I shall hide in the old spot for my own treasury,’? he muttered. “Oftem the Hawks will Know nothing. ‘They’ll think the other fiffy good pay for a ride to the city and back, and I'shall have my share of that, too 1? The goliloquy of tne tory was suddenly cut short ina singular manner. He was sitting under the thick branches ofa large oak tree, and sudden as thought, before he could even cry out, a rope with a noose in it was thrown over his head, and drawn light agit encircled his body just velow his shoulders, thus pinioving both arms. “Hoist away, boys! Up with the tory, boys! Make on Absolom of him, all but the hair!’ cried a shrill voice, which he instantly recognized as that of the hated dwarf who had interfered uud saved Katrina Vanderbilt from ruin. Instantly he felt himself rising in the air, but his ascent was checked when six or eight feet. clear of the ground, leaving lim hanging with the rope just high enough on lis body to keep him in a perpendicular position. And now, almost blinded wif rage, and suffering from the tightness with which his weight drew the noose ground him, he looked down and saw the ‘dwarf spring out from a clump of underbrush, followed by half-a-dozen soldiers in the Federal uniform. He locked for his horse, and saw that it, too, Was strug- gling in a necsed halter which confined it to the body cf the tree under which he hung. “Here's British gold, boys! share it among you |) cried the dwarf, a3 he picked up the bag ofsovereigns and tossed it to the solders. “I Will not dirty my hands withit. That picture tp there is worth a thousand pounds to me. lia! Jack Ferris, how do you like dancing on‘ nothing? The rope wil be abont your neck yet. But dtisnt time yet, “Youd must run a little lunger, jast a litle longer, J: Ferris! Hal ha! dance—why don't you dance, Jack Ferris?” “Fiend | Jeb me down] yclled Ferris, “Team not a fiend. You'll sce the nat arch fiend soot gnough,” cried the dwarf. “How did you icave Sir Henry Sinisa? Got paid for your news, didu’t you? What a pity these patriot soldiers should lave the goid to drink the health of Washington with I” “Ay, and the health of Martin, the dwarf, too !* cried one ofthe soldiers. “Yes—huitalh tor Marin, others, , “Mush, boys, hash! You'll hurt the feclings of Jack Ferris—loyai Jack Ferris—if yeu cheer me. isn’t he a beauty up there, hanging like a gourd ona vine? Wouldn't you liketo,getdown, Jack? Waat would you do, Jack, il should relent and let you down?’ ° “Out your body inte inch pieces {* yelled Ferris, flercely. ‘Make hashed meat of me,eh? Hast is good inits way, bat I'm not fat efiough for killing yet, Jack Ferris, Neither are you. But you'll improve with rest. We'lllet you take anhap up there forthe night, for it ism’t iikely anybody else Will pass this way, to-night. The sun is just geing down. It looks showery too away. to the south-east} But you won't get very. wet, Jack. The water will rue as fast.as it. falls. Come, boys, get up your horses. We'll ride on. and leave Jack to reflect on the difference between a robe around the body atid che around the neck.” “For me sake don’t leave me up here all night. Ill die before 1¢!'! groaned the tery, as hesaw that the mew were really getting ready to leaye him, “May be you will, Juck, but youl have pienty of time to pray. And that is nore than you gave Walt Sutherbee when you strung him up for being loyal to his country. “4 the dwarf!’ shouted the * Now known as Gedney's Channel. ’ ndd reported. Thinking that the ship) “Through no fault of mine, Sir Henry !* said the tory. }, 4 i ie , +*°Te be sure; Sir henry, and Food son too we have “hink is ey Se and [ lies ng so, Hot (vey. puysue with uprelenting fawake high ys you forgive hatvea’? lias ot taat man Weeorge Washington set me, t Big and did you-erer tells a lie, price on my head, Calling mé a tiief, and a murderer” thou in cours never, Youis always so good. 1 Nothing can save lim, thopgh} if ever hestands whefe | wonder what mak@s me bad? Do you know, sister bullet of imine cam reach lis heart, for I will not spare | Georgie?! F : e ’ a a ee amare eee = bash me up!? “Yes, wretch, yes. 1 don’t care. Leave me if youewan to. lcan die cursing yon and your great Washington down as I would a wolf !”? the bitter words of the tory. used after rescuing Katrina from her peril. Inaiew seconds his beautifal white herse the’ spot. = ; - , leaped into the-Sadale. ‘Look U herse yonder, and his master too. | They would like to't find that you can fy like a white clond of bréath of the strong north wind. here. Away, my Pearl of the Derma 04 these spirits of darkness to the emb¥ace of night.’ An instant more and Ferris groaned out hig misery, Only his horsedieard hin. we fe (To be Continugaae supen SWEETS! BY MRS. M. A. KIDDER. There's not a thing, whate’er it lacks In beauty or completeness— There’s not a noxious flower or plant Butdwns some drop of sweetness ! The wild bee roves on pinions bright, Through gardens fair and sunny; Yet often gathers from the weeds, A goodly share of honey ! The darkest clouds shed brightest rain— The night the sweet dew genders; And through her hosts of tiny stars. A gegne of grandeur renders! And thus itis with human kind The souls we think the poorest Bereft ofsweets, we sometimes find The truest and the surest! Thi} re not always what they seem, Of s0frecly given, We'll takethe bitter with the sweet And trustthe reusi to Heaven, Leighion Womestead; EDNA’S DEBT, AND HOW SHE PAID IT. BY MRS, MARY J. HOLMES, Author of “Marian Grey,’ “Hugh Worthington,” “Rose Ma- ther.” “Darkness and Daylight,’ ‘Lena Rivers,’ ‘‘Home- stead on the Ilillside,”’ “Tempest and Sunshine,” ‘Cousin Maude,” “Ethelyn's Mistake,’ “Cameron Pride,” “Meadow Brook,” “English Orphans,’ ‘Dora Deane,’ ete., etc. “The Leighton Homestead’ was commenced in No. 17. Back numbers may be obtained from any News Agent in the United States. CHAPTER XXTY. GEORGIE AND JACK. Georgie staid_in Chicago nearly two months, and for that sacrifice nientally urrogated to herself the right al- most to a martyr’s crown,if not to be canonized as a saint. She had foun@ Annie better than she expected, and that of itself was in seme sort a grievance, as it implied un- due onxiets, ifpot actual deception on Jack’s part.. In order to get herthere, he had represented Annie as being worse than she was, Georgie thought, and at first she was inclined to resent it, and made herself generaliy. disa- greeable; that. is, disagreeable to Jack and Aunt Luna, but not to Amnie, the li.tle child, whose arms closed so convulsively around her neck, and whose whole body quivered with emotion when she first saw her sister Georgie, and knew she had really come. Two days Geor- wie sat by her, gazing intently at her, and listening to her prattle, until there came a softer look into her face, and her eyes lost’ somewhat of their cold, haughty expres- sion. Annie told her everything she could think of about her young teacher, Mrs. Churcnill, who had gone, no one knew where, and about herself and her little joys, and griefs, and faults. Everything bad which she had done was confessed, her impatience and fretfulness, and the falsehoods she had told. These jast were confessed with purning blushes, and head bowed down in Georgie’s lap, while with a faltering vojce, Annie said: i “Thave askead¢ = ey « IT don’t fee! fi ; Oh, how abased and sinful Georgie felt while listening to this innocent little child, whose garment she was not More too than you would give me if you had a chance to But mark me, if I do get down from this I'll hunt you The dwarf langhed sarcastically, but made no reply to The soldiers were now mounted, avd he blew the same whistle which he had bounded to ids Ste A . “Ab, my Pearl, my preity Pear! /” cried the dwarf as he and see that black t. thy speed perhaps, andsd tiey may soe days They wal ™ ; (tae Batave must not job , and leave put THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. #> she tiad already lost too much time there in Chicago. _ “Georgie,” andJack began to get in earnest, ‘by los- tj} ing time, 1 suppose you mean losing your chance with - | Roy Leighton. I’ve never said much to you upon that subject, but now I may as well free my mind. If Roy Leighton really cares for you he has had chances enough to make it known; and that he has not done so is pretty good proof that he does not.care. But supposing he did, and supposing he aSks you to be his wife, will you marry him, without tellinchim all?” ‘Most certainly | wii and Georgie’s eyes flasied de- fiamtly.. “I need hav¢g no concéalments trom you, ivho know me so weli, andffell youplainiy there’s scarcely anything 1 would not do to secure Roy Leighton; and do you Imagine l\would tell him a story Which would so surely thrust him from me? A story, £00; whi¢h only you know; and \you remember your Oath, do you/not?” She said the laSb words slowly, and ler eyes fastened fhomares upon, gaek as asnake’s \might restimpon a bird, | ae “Yes, 1 remember my oath,’ and Jaek retarned her gaze ubflinchingly. Something in lilS Manner made Georgie winee a little, and resolve to change her tactics. Sweetness and gentle- ness had always4old on Jack when nothing else could move him, and so she tried them now, and her voice grew very soft, and reverent, and beseeching, as, laying her hand on Jack’s shoulder, slié said: “Don’t let us quarrel, brother. I de want to do right, even if I cannot tell that dreadful thing to Roy. Iam not going home either so much tesee him as for another rea- son, of which I ought perhaps to have told you before. Jack, I can’t tell Roy, but I am trylg to be a better woman, and have made up my mind to be confirmed Whenour bishop comes to the little church near QOak- wood, which will possibly be week after next. Aunt Burton is anxious for it, and is going to arrange to be there; and so you seel must go. You do not. blame me now, lamsure, You respect religion, even if you do not profess it.” Her hand pressed more lovingly on Jack’s arm, but he shook it off, and, starting to hi8 feet, confronted her with a look which made her shiver and turn pale, ‘Blume you?"? he began. ‘Respect religion? Yes, 1 do; and respect it so much that sooner than See you take those solemn vows vpon you, knowing what I do, I would Oren ae. oath a hundred times, and feel [ was doing right.” , Georgie’s breath came pantingly, and the great drops of sweat stood around her lips asshe asked: _ “What do you propose to do?” He did not answer her question directly, but went on to say: ‘Ido not profess to be good myself, orto have the first principles of goodness, but my mother, who died there in that hed’’—and he pointed to where Annie lay— “Knew whet religion was, and lived itevery day; and when she dled there was a peace and a glory around her deatit-bed, which would not be around yours or mine, wer we to-die to-night. Iamnot judging harshly. By their fruits ye shall Know them. He said so; the man Jesus, Whoni mother loved and ieaned upon, just as really as she ever leaned on m¢, and whom she taught Annie to love and pray to,until He is asmuch her companion when she is alone as youare when you are with her. Georgie, there is Something needed before. one kneels at that altar, aS you propose doing, something which you do not possess. You do not care for the thing in and of itself: You have some selfish object in view, aud I will not be a party to the deception.” . “Will you drag me from the altar, or tear the bishop's hands from my head?" Georgie asked, beginning to grow both alarmed and angry at her brother, who replied: “No; but hear me, for this I will do; If you gQ to con- firmation, and if before or aiter it Roy Leighton asks you to be his wife, and you do not tell him the whole truth, L will do-it for you. - He shall not be deceived."* “And your Oath??? Georgie asked, in a choking voice. “T break my oath, and do God service in breaking it,” Jack answered. 1 [YOM Georgie for a time, ave acme | Keep one too; and if you don’t want Roy to know wliere | you are he never shail rom ime.’’ } Maude wrote to Edva tuat night, and told her every- thing about the Leightons which she thought would 1p- terest her, and then with feverish impatience waited for matters to develope, and for her next summer’s vacation when she meant to goaguin to Rocky Point, and Satisfy” herself. ae : After Maude’s’sudden exit fromthe room Roy did not renew the conversation whici Her entrauce had inter. rupted. He was thinking of Rdna, and Georgie's chance Was lost agains. But when inthe spring he vecided upon is trip to Hurepe, he half made up his mind to take Geor- ié Burton with nimy He knew it would please his moth- ef and from all thafhad passed between himself and the jady he felt that he Was i Some sort bound to make her his wile; and why Walt @My longer? She was at Gak wood now. She had lef New York @arlier than usual on the plea that city air did M6bagree with her as formerly; she lelt tired all the time; she told her aunt, who ever read y tO gratify Wer dailing’s slightest Whim, consented toleave New Yorkatieast 2 month earlier than usual, but never dreamed that the real cause 0! Georgie’s pretenaed Wear- ipess was to be found in the pl@agant litle house over in Jersey City, where Jack lHey10m@ was settling himself, Although constantly assuring Herself that her fears were groundiess, Georgie could not shake? the nervous dread. that by Jack’s presence in New York the biack page of her life might somehow come to life. She went over to Jersey several times, for she could not keep away, but she took the Hoboken Ferry, and then came in the street car to the corner near which Jack lived, thinking thus to avoid meet- ing auy one who knew her, and would wonder what she was doing in Jersey City. Still it was not 80 inuch through herself as through Jack thatshe dreaded recognition; and until he was fairly settled and at work, and swallowed up in the great Babel, it w«s better for her to be away; anu so she went to Oak wood, and Saw Roy every day, and was so soft, and sweet, and pious, and interesting in her new role of half-invalid, that Roy made up his mind, and started one morning to settle the important question, His route lay past the post-office, and there he founda the letter Edna had written Manswerto his own. He read it in the shadow of an old elm-tree, which grew by the road-side, and under which he reined his horse for a moment. Tere was nothing remarkable in 1t—nothing to startle one, either way, but it turned Roy’s thoughts sent them after rné frolle- some little girl whom he had onéé séch in the cay, Bxwtabout a year ago, and wno was now bis sister, She wrote a very pretiy hand, and she seemed so grateful forthe few crumbs of interest ie had given lier, that he wished so much he knew where she was. Hf he did, he believed he would take her to Europe, instead of Georgie; but net as his wife—he never thought of such a thing in comucction with Edna—but as his sister, for such she realiy was, And so, with her letrer in his hand, he sat thinking of her, while his pony fed upon the fresh grass by the fence, and feeling no check from bit or bridle, kept golng fur- ther and further away, unul, when Roy's revere was endcd, and he looked abeut for bis horse, be saw him far down the road, in the direction of Leighton Place, instead of Oakwood. Roy started alter him. at once; butthe pony did not care to be canght, and seeing lis master | coming, pricked up his ears und started for home, where Roy found him at last; standing quietly by the Stable door, asif nothing had happened. That circuinstance kept Roy from Georgie’s side that Gay, and when on the morrow he saw her at bis own house, he was guilty of experiencing a feeling of reiief that he had not committed himself, and would have no cne’s luggage but his moth- er’s and his own to look alter in Europe. He sailed early in June, and Georgie stood upon the wharf, and watched the vessel as it, went down the bay, and felt such bitter pain in her heart as paled the roses on her cueek, and quenched someof the brightness of her eyes. “Roy is lost to me forever,’ she said to herself, as she re-entered her aunt’s carriage, and was driven back to Madison Square. And then there was silence between them for ten min- utes or, More, and no sound was heard except the occa- sional dropping of a dead coal into the pan, and the :ow, regular breathing of the little child, so terribly in the way nf the Woman who had so unexpectedly been brought to ay. 4 She gave up the confirmation then and there, and after sitting silent a few moments, arose and went toJack, and putting her arms around his neck, cried aloud upon his shoulder, and called him the best brother in the world, and wished she was haifas good as he, anda great deal more which Jack took at its fair valuation, He was used to ber moods, and knew about how to prizethem. Still in this instance he had been a little hard on her, she thought, and so he kissed her back at last, and said he was notangry with her, and bade her go to bed lest she should be sick on the morrow. Stil, as long as he remained unmarried, there was hope; and though her youth was rapidly slipping away, she would rather wait.on the slightest chance of winning Roy Leighton than give herself to another. Aundso, that summer—at Saratoga, where she reigned a belle—she re- fused two very eligible offers: one from tne young heir of a proud Boston family; the other from @ widower of sixty, with a million and a half of gold, and seven grown- up daughters. {To be Continued.] ————__>-0~< Every writer now engaged upon the New YORK WEEK- ty is trying to write a story which will’ surpass any previous effort. a ee She staid a week after that, and when at last she went away, ler diamond pin, ear-rings, bracelets, and two finger-rings of diamoniis and emeralds lay in the} show window of a jeweler’s shop where they bonght such articles; and in Annie’s hand, when parting With her, she thrust a paper, which contained the sum of $1,500, and the words, *‘To help make the first payment ne new house.”’ held her.as nothing less than an angel of good- nd generosity, while Jack, Who understood now é had eae ister coming from Jachery’s shop, if? “Tiere are noble traits in Georgie after ‘The bishop came to the little church near Oakwood at the appointed time, but Georgie Burton’s proud head was not one on which bis hands were laid. Aunt Burton, who had gone fora week or soup to her country house, and tak- en George with her, liad urged her to it, and so too had the worthy to touchy but #ho had exalted her so highly, and held her as someiin erfect. Perliaps she might have solved the mystery weich troubled Aunie so much as to what made her 80 given te the bad, when she wanted to be good. She might Mavgtold of hlood or bloods, so tainted with ceeeit t y Single « of it in one’s veins would make the fount i - But she did not do this; she kissed and comforted the child, and folding her arms about her Said, with a gush of real, womanly feel- “Oh, Annie, my darling, What would I give to be as in- nocent as you; continue what you are; sliun a lie or cle- ceit of any kiud as vou would shim the plague, and pray, darling, for me that | may be half as good as you.” She lifted herself up, pantMmg with emotion, while An- nie looked wonderi igiy at her, why, sister Geo" sie ahe said. ‘You can’t be bad. You are the goodest Wo know. I does pray for you that Jesus will take e of you, but never that He’d make you good, because I thought you were,” “No, child, Lam not-—-I am not,” and the proud Georgie sobbed aloud. ‘l’m tot good, but i love you. I want you to remember that, Annie, whatever may happen; re- member that I do love you, Oh my dirling, my darling.” There was some terrivle pain tugging at Georgie’s heart —some fierce struggag, 10 be, going en, and for a few moments she erie: “$2 @ little child, while Annie looked wonderingly on amg tocomforther. After that, she never gave way avin, But was her old; assured self. Of the influences Warr ag within her the wrong one had pre- vailed, and siie had chosen to return to her formal life of ease rather than ve vain where her duty clearly lay, and where the touch oi u little ehila’s hand, and the constant presence of that littie child might have ayailed to lead fier away from the ruinous path ‘she was treading. Between herself and Jack there was @ Stormy interview one night after Aunie was asleep, and the brother and sister sat together before the grate, talking first of the past and then of the future. Jack had received, as he tnought, an advantageous offer to go to Jersey City and enter,an insurance @licc. There was a louse there too for salé on very reasonable terns, ana Jack’s friend urged him to buy it, and have a home of his own. How Jack's heart beat at the thought of a home of his own, with no constantly recurring rent-bill to pay, and no troublesome landlord ‘spying about for damages. A home of his own which he could improve and beautify as he pleased with a sense of security and ownership, and where pethaps Georgie mightbe indaéed to stay a portion of the time. In Annie’s present helpless condition it was desirable that she should not often be jeft alone, and as old Luna must at times be out, Is sem@amesessary that a third person should form apart of Jaek’s household, and who more fitting and proper eine provided she could be made to think’§o. did not expect her to give up Aunt Burton's home, Hits laxuries altogether; only for atime he wanted Hem ahd he was revolving in his inind how to tell hémso when she surprised him with the announcement thas “she was going back to New York in azfew days; thao she wad as staid longer than she in- tended doing, @ lly alter she found how well Annie was, and how Ht @ needed Her except for company.” Jack was astemigued. He had fully expected Georgie te remain with him whfil spring at least, and he told her so, and told ef further of his plans for the future, and his hope that she would be interested in his new home, if he had one, an@Stay there a portion of the time. Geor- gie heard him bough, but there was an expression in her RiNGk oes, GYbICH Boded ill to the success of Jack’s plan, and her Feleg When sie spoke, had in ita cold, metalic ring, Wiigh nade Jack shiver and involuntarily draw nearer to the fee.” “7 bury f Syeetep hh y ee Jack, you must he crazy to propose suc mag. “Wiiy, J’d rather emigrate to Lapland, ont and out. lcan’t endure tue place, and I don't see why you wan't togo there. Yeu art aging well here, and these réonis are yery comfortable.” The fact was Georgie dic not care to have JatK and An- nie quite so near to herself as they would be im Jersey City. Chicago, where she knew so few people, was # safer place for her, andghe quietly opposed the change, With- vut however changmeg Jack’s opinion in the least. ‘Are you not afraid that your return to New York will bring up old times ?-- There are those there still who have not forgotten,” she said, and in hereyes there wasa kind of scared. look, a3 ji they were gazing on some horrid picture of the past. “And suppose they de remember,” Jack said, 4 little hotly.. “There's uething in the past for which | need to blush; and surely no one could possibly recognize in the heiress Georgie Burton, the i “Flush, Jack, Ll won’t hear what I was even irom your lips,’ Georgie said, fiercely. ‘Perhaps,there 7$.20 dan- ger for myself, but I never walk tho streets even now, as the daughter of Ralph Burton, without a fear of meeting gome one whd remembers. » Still L know. that as Miss Dur- ton, of Madison Square, | ani safe, but as your, sister, in Jersey City, I stionidnet be; and 1 will run no risks.” “Not for Annie's sake?! Jack asked; and Georgie an- sivered: “Ne, not for Annie‘s sake,*) though her chin quivered a little as she glanced at the sleeping childs ‘Then they talked on and on, Jack trying to persuade his sister fo stayawith him at least a little longer, anti she as persisteutly refusing, saying sue must be nome, that ~~ rector; and when Georgie gave asa reason for holding back that she was “not good enough,” the rector said she had set her standard far too high, while Aunt Burton wondered where the good were to ve found if Georgie Was not of the number, and eried softly during the ceremony; because of her darling’s humanity. What Georgie felt no one knew. She sat very quietly through the service, with her vail dropped over her face, and only turned her head alittle when Maude, who was among the candidates, went up to the altar. But when Roy Leighton too arose, and witha calm, peaceful expression upon his manly iace, joined the group gathering in the aisle, She gave a stait, and the long lashes which dropped Our Knowledge Box. A FEW PARAGRAPHS WORTH REMEMBERING. QUESTIONS ANSWERED AND INFORMATION WANTED.— Squirrel Cap.—To_ Remove Prupres.—Wash every mornivg with alotion prepared by mixing te feltowing ingrediemts; Sab- « carbonate of soda. 36 grains; distiodeimseberes ounosSyressence of roses 6drops. Vimples ere usually eabsed by im pirity of the bioed, hevce an external ap. heater sigc 4 uSiy the wash given 2boVe, pHoed sarkaparilis, and take Neco dda éragzist of whom you purebase tag Iron Mowds.—Rub the spot witha lye or.salis of lemon, and warm water. Let it remain for a few minutes, and then rinse in clean va te .—VARLOUS Dyrs.—the following recipes may be tor wool, hair, fur, or silk, To dye Liack, boil the articles fortwo hoursin a decoc- tion of nutgaids, and atiterwurd keepthem fortwo hours more ma bath composed of lozewood and su’phate of iron; kept during the whole time at a scalding heat, but not boiling. During the operation they must frequently be exposed to the air. The commen proportions are five parts of galls, five of sulphate of iron, and thirty of logweod, sometmes a little acetate of cop- per (verdigris) 1s added toimprove the color. Woolen cloth, be- fore it receives a black colar, isusually dycd blue; this 1enders the color much fuller and finer than it would otherwise be. If the cloth is coarse, the biue dye mnvay be too expensive; in that case, 2 brown color is given by means of walnut peels. To dye wool drown with walnut peels, noting more is necessary than to steep the cloth in a decoction of them till ithas acquired the desired eolor. The depth efthe shave muy be regu!uted by the strength of the decoction. I th: cloth be first passed through a mordant of alum, the color is brightened. Silk is dyed in the 3 i by the, sMollie.—To Extract. powdered oxalic acid, upon her burning cheeks, were moist with tears. She had not expected this of Roy. He was not one to talk much of bis deeper feelings, and so only his God, and his motner, and the rector knew of the determination to lead anew and better life, which had been growing within him ever since Charlie’s sudden death. ‘Be ye also pre- pared, for in such an hour as ye think not the son of nan cometh,’ had sounded in his ears until he could no longer resist the Spirit’s gentle wooings, but gave himself to God without reserve of any kind. There was a slight stir per- ceptible all through the congregation as Roy went up and stood by Maude. “He was a member worth getting; he at least was sincere,’ even the cayillers atthe holy site thought within themselves, and when it was over, and he came down the aisle, all noted the expression of his fuce as of one who was in earnest and honest in what he had done. Georgie saw it, too, and for a moment the justice of what Jack had said asserted itself in her mind, and in her heart shé cried out:*‘*Roy ought not to be deceived, and yet how’ could I tell him, even supposing n She did not finish the sentence, but she meant, ‘‘Sup- posing he does ask me to be his wile.”’ And Georgie had again strong hopes that he would. Ile had seemed very glad to see her when Slie came up to Oakwood; had called on her every day, and shown in various ways how much he was interested in her. There was abeut her now a certain air of softness and humility very attractive to Roy, and he had fialf hoped that when he knelt at the altar, Georgie might be with him, and had felta little disappointed that she was not. So much as this he said to her that night, when, as usual, he called at Oakwood, They were all alone, and Georgie, of her own accord, had made some allusion to the morn- ing service, when Roy spoke of his wish that she had been with him, and’/his disappointment that she was not. Georgie had borne a great deal that day, and liveda great deal in the dreadful past which she would so much like to have blotted out. Her nerves were uasirung, and when Roy said to her so gently, and still in a sorry kind of way, “Why didn’t you, Georgie?’ she broke down entirely, and, laying her head: upon the table, cried for a moment like a child. “Oh, Roy,” ‘she said, at last, looking up at him with her dark eyes full of tears, “I did want to; did mean to, but 1am not good enough, and I dared not, But I’m so glad you did, so glad’'—and she clasped her pretty hands in a Kind of tragic way—‘“Jor now you will teach me, won’t you?” Roy was but a man, and knew nothing of that scene in Chicago, and Georgie was very beautiful to look upon, and seemed so softened and subdued that he felt a strange feel- ing throbbing in his heart, and would without doubt have proposed taking the fair penitent as his pupil for life if Maude had not just then come suddenly upon them and spoiled their fete-a-iefe. Georgie’s eyes were a little stormy now, but Maude did not pretend to notice it, and seated herself very unconcernedly before the tire, With her cro- cheting, thus putting to an cnd any plan Roy might have had in his mind with reference to Miss Georgie Burton. Maude hiad scarcely seen Roy before, since her visit to Roeky Point, and gee (ei him all about quaint Uncle Phil, who was his agent there,aaq of his niece, Miss Over. fon, the prettiest little creature, to Wham she had given the pet name of “Dot,” she was such & weewl Of a thing. And then the conversation. turned upon Charhé, sit Chartiets wife; and Maude asked ifanything had yet been heard from her, of if Roy knew where she was. Roy did not except that she was teaching, aud would not let him know of her whereabouts. ‘“STow dg you know she is teaching, then?’ Georgie asked, a@ Htlle sharply; aud Roy, replied, innocently enough: “L know through an aunt of hers, to whom I wrote last Christmas, éSking her to forward to her niece, a box of jet, which I sent to Edna.” “Oli-h [) and Maude jumped asif she had been shot; then. quickly recovering herself, she exclaimed: ‘That dreadiul pin and pat her hand to her collar as if the cause of her agitation were there. Maude had received an impression. Things were al- ways coming to her, she was wont to say, and something had come to her ndy, which.made her quiver all over With exciteinent, and sent her at last to tier own reom, where Sliv bounded about like a rabber ball. “I knew flere was something queer about ler all the time, but Lnever suspected that. ePoor little Dot; how L, must. have hurt her fvelings with my foolis& taik of Charlie, if she really is his widow, and I Know she is, tor 1 remember now how interested she was in the Letghtons, and how many questidus she asked about Rey and his mother; and then that box of jefe Pm sure of’ it—per- fectly sure; but, Dotty, if } can ferret out a secret, I can sane manuer as wool, except that as itimbibes a large quan- tity of tannin, the quantity of galls must be increased to twice as much, and the silk must remain lovger in the solution. To dye green, boil the arttele first in alum-water for an hour; then for three hours in a preparation ecraposed of four ‘ounces of verdigris, two quarts of White Wine-vinegar, and tour quarts of water. To dye yelorr, make a strong decoction of black oak bark, sufficient to cover the article to be dyed, and for each pound of goods add a quarter of a pound of alum apd one ounce of chi - ride of tin. -Asimple method of dying green isto prepare a yellow dye of black oak bark, as direcied nbove, add yraduaily the sulphate of indigo, until the proper sbude o1 green is pro- duced, put in the article tobe colored, stir well, and letit beil. A Live dye is made thts: one ounce of puiverized indigo dissely- ed mm six ounces of concentrated oil of Witriol makes what the druggists call sulphate of indigo. If the indige be cood, and the acid sufficiently strong, the solution may be nade in a gluss bot- tle. For fear of failure in both of these particulars, it is as well to buy the sulphate of indigo ready-made from the drug-store. For one pound of goods dissolve one-half pound of alum in suf- ficient water to cover the article to be dyed; add a littie of the sulphate of indigo; put in the goods, boii for a short time, ane rinse well. Phe depth of color may be graduated by using more or less of the salphate of indigo. Inali these recipes, rain or other water should be used, and the articles should be weil rinsed after dyeing......Anxious.—This correspondent wishes a recipe for making trausparent pemade forthe hair. Can any of-our readers furnish us with one ?...... W, H. Olicer.—No.....> ZIou.—We do not know the professional reputation of the gentle- menwhom youname. We would advise you to ,consult some respectable physician who has made the disease with which you are afflicted a apa Avoid quacks. Your complaint is of so long standing that it may be difiicultto cure. We have heard that moderate counter-irritation by means of seions or strips of blistering plaster may be employed in the neighberhocd of the seat of the disease. The dict should be ru.ritiots and digestible, with a liberal allowance of red meats, ami scmetimes of ale or wine. Iron, or cod liver oil the phesphatcs, and tonics wili be useiul...... Shkinflint.—See answer to K. K K. in No. 20....A Con- stant Reader. —SHORTNESS OF BREATH.—This may be remedied by taking plenty,of outdoor exercise, such as walking up hui, run- ning, rowing, &c. The exercise Should be very moderate at first, not allowing it to fatigue. Afterward i be gradvally ia- creased...... S. £. K.—To Repucre WEN Mr. William Banting printed a pamphlet in Engl: ibject named, has been repul but we are not aware that the work lished on this side of the water.. We can giye you, however, the substasce of it. The dietary Which Banting observed fo reduce his wei. ht from 202 pounds to 150 was tlus: For breakfast. four ounces of beef mutton, or any kind of brefied fish or cok menty excepting pork, salmon, eels and herring. A large cup ef tea withont milk or sugary a litile biscuit or an cunce of dry toast.. For dinner, five or six ounces of any fist: or meat (execpt these prohibited) any vegetable (except potatoes, parsnips ond beets) one. ounce of dry toast, ripe or cooked ruits, alld any kind of poultry and a2 Cup same, Fog tea twgor three ounces o! fruit, dry tuast, ana of tea without mifk or sugar. / And for supper three o ounces of meat or fish, with a glass or two of Claret or 3 Food which contains sugar rapidly creates fat, and 1 horror of corpulence... PERSPIRING.—Wash the or in alcghol....Joe.— —SHAMPOONING THE HAIR = for making'ihe ariicle he uses, but having tried the toll we can recommend it: Take a basin and pour init ‘arm sott water. Beat upin it the yolk of an e cleanse the bair thoroughly with it. Afterward we with clean tepid water....... Joseph.—Use Huseed oil W Constant Reader.—To*Curt tHe Harn.—There is no p: which will make naturally straight hair assume a} panent eurl. The following will Keep the hair in curl for a sirort time: Take borax two ounces, gum egrabicone drachm, avd b c (not boiling) one quart, stir, and as soon as the ingre dissolved, add three tzblespooniuls of strong spirit On retiring to rest, wet the heir with the above liquid, it in twists cf paper ag ystial. Do not disturb the hair ti ing, wgen unt and form ffito ringlets... .Heighdaddy.—Ba your eves ty warm milk and water....Lecomotive.—1l, To Mae Goop Harr Om.—Mix well over the fire a pint of oi! of sweet almonds and an ounce of spermecetl, when cold, stir in a tea- spoontul of oil of bergamot and two grains of r with extract of alkanet reot it imparts a dark de fc 2. To Make Brackeerry Branpy.—Ten quarts f blackberries make one gallon of juice. To one golon of juice add four pounds of sugar.) Boil and skim it. Strain, and add one ounce of cloves, one ounce of ground ciunstion, ten ¢ ed putmegs, and boil again... When cool add one quart of Lestbraudy or whisky. BLackBERRY ConpraL.—Three }< unds of ripe biackber- ries, one pound white sugar; let therm stand twelve Pours; press the juice, and strain it. Ad@.one-third of good spirils; te every uart a féaspoontul of finely powde It is at once At for use——BLACKRERRY WINE.—Hruise. th to every galion add water. Let tf twenty-four hotirs liv: into a cask, to 'y tight, and let stendu will be ready without s R.G B.—1; See No. 16.) 2 answer, 4 A re oO ed sugar; e fall er, and the wins aining } €6,—See No. 22. We think your haudwriting would >o<+—--—_--—--- Nathan D. Urner, Jasephine Pollard, Wm. Ross Wal- lace, Mrs. M. A. Kidder, Nathan Upham, Emma Alice Browne, Alice Carey, Jennie Stoven, and a large number of others are engaged ali the time to write pocms for the NEW YORK WEESLY, moe oe Fn