Vol. XXYV. THE MAY-QUEEN. BY NATHAN D. URNER. The first sweet breath of the month of May Fioats into the quiet room, Laden with children’s voices gay And the Springtime’s wealth of perfume. And here, from the window, love, you and I Can see the hillside green, Where the sunbeams glance and the school-girls dance Around their bright May-Queen. And there are the lads of the village, too, Their happy homage to pay; And their cheeks are fair as the flowers they throw At the feet of the Queen of May. And she, with her golden cur!s a-toss, And her young face fresh as a dream, If royal born on this bright Spring morn, She could not queenlier seem. Ah, dearest! youth’s spirit renews itself In that blush that flows to your cheeks; And memorial love, like a sweet little elf, To my heart all tenderly speaks Of a bright May-Day, when you were the Queen, Rightly and royally crowned, And, with dance and song, the whole day long, We circled you gayly around. And just as yon schoolboy, there, on the green, Now kneels at her feet a-down, I knelt at your feet, and you dropped (unsecn) The brightest rose from your crown. I pressed my lips to its brilliant leaves— With a schoolboy’s passion, I own; But the Queen of the May, on that joyous day, In my heart had built her throne. And perennial sweets my bosom thrilled, As they thrill me even to-day— For the soul of the Spring by your love was instilled On that glorious morning in May. And (ah! the blush returns to your cheek As those shouts float in from the green !) We kissed in the glen, and you sighed the word then Which made you my heart’s May-Queen. SQUIRREL CAP; OR, THE Ranger of Raccoon Ridge. By Burke Brentford. “Squitrel Cap” was commenced in No. 22. Back numbers cat be obtained from any News Agent throughout the United CHAPTER IX.—(Continued.)’ Early on the following morning Squirrel Cap set forth on his trapping expedition, and did not return until late at night. He was heavily laden with skins, but so fa- tigued that, immediately after partaking of the meal Al- lie had in readiness for him, he threw himself upon his couch of turs, and sank into profound sleep. Allie soon afterward retired, and they would probably have slumbered late into the day, had not the girl been awakened by the noise of the parrot, who, just about day- break, set up a tremendous clatter, squalling “Stranger coming! stranger coming! stranger coming!’ at the top of nis voice. Allie immediately awakened the old trapper, who sprang to his feet and seized his gun. He then climbed upon one of the stools and looked out of the single small casement through which the bird had made the discovery, before giving the alarm. “?Pears to be a cavalry chap, an’ too big for the Cap- tain, too,» he muttered. ‘Allie, go into yer budwer, an’ take Puss with yer.” She obeyed, and the next instant heavy raps sounded on the door. “Who's thar?! “A friend,’’ replied a voice from without. “Thar’s all sorts of them around. Suppose yer mother guv yer a name.” “Lieutenant Danvers, of Fort Laramie,’ was the reply. ‘Wait 2 minute,” said the trapper. He struck a light, and admitted the lieutenant, to whom he would have given a more cordial welcome, had it not been for his jealousy of his foster-daughter, which was ever uppermost in his mind, upon the approach of a stranger. Danvers was faint with cold and hunger, and this won for him the immediate sympathy of the trapper. «Plant yerself, an’ feel at home, lieutenant,” said he, heaping fresh fuel upon the embers that still glowed upon the hearth. ‘How's the major? Did that’ere chap lt back all right? Whar ye goin’? Air you hungry? Like some yenison, or barmeat? Aint you tired?” He ran on in this way from a sort of dread lest the new- comer should conjecture of Allie’s presence in the honse; for the old man was constantly filled with vague appre- hensions that some one would deprive him of this pre- cious treasure. It happened that in his very effort to conceal, he betrayed tis secret. “Thar, thar! Plant yourself. Take suthin’ to drink. Is your mother well?. Dry your. clothes,” he fluttered on, with every now and then an apprehensive glance at the blanket-screened entrance. ‘i’il1 go’n take your critter under the shed, an’ give him some hay. Make yourself at home while I’m gone... Thar’s no one in the house but yourself, lieutenant.” “Only me, poppy. Only me, and Allie, and Puss,’’ cried the parrot, correctively. The old trapper cast one glance at the bird, which boded it no good-will, and then hastened out of the cabin, to take care of his guest’s horse. “] wonder what has got into old Squirrel Cap,” pon- dered the lieutenant, laughing, in spite of his weariness, at the trapper’s perturbed manner, which seemed to ac- cord so strangely with his known fearlessness of charac- ter. ‘If the old fellow was married, one would suppose that his wife had just presented him with his first baby. By Jove!” With this last exclamation, the lieutenant sprang from his seat, as if he had been shot, and drew his pistol with a@ nervous hand; for, at thismoment the panther escaped in some way from Allie’s hold, leaped into the room with a single bound, and steod crouching threateningly, with her ears laid back and showing her powerful fangs. “Stop, soldier-man, stop! don’t shoot pussy!’ cried a shrill, musical voice, and the startled lieutenant lowered his pistoi, to gaze with wonder and admiration at the Slight, girlish sorm which bounded into the apartment with the agility of a fawn. As Allie, in her wild and picturesque costume, leaned forward, grapping the panther’s leather collar with one hand and raising the other imploringly for mercy, Dan- vers thought he had never beheld anything so strikingly dramatic and beautiful. As for the maiden, in her simplicity, she looked at the stranger as if spell-bound. Fatigued and travel-stained .as he was, she had probably never beheld so handsome a _young man before, and the comparative splendor of his cavalry uniform added to the impression he produced up- on her unsophisticated mind. They stood thus gazing upon each other forsome sec- onds, and Danvers was about to speak, when he was in- terrupted by a gruff, husky exclamation behind him, and turned to behold the gaunt trapper standing in the door- ‘Way, and contemplating the scene. ; His face was sallow with mingled anger and perplexity, and his voice was harsb and rasping as he spoke. “It was this panther pet of Evo that brought about this romantic tableau, Squirrel Cap,” explained the young Officer, putting up his pistol, and vaguely conscious that he had in some way intruded upon the domestic affairs of his host. ‘The brute sprang upon me unawares, and I was just about to shoot, when this young—young lady,” (the speaker was about to substitute ‘princess,’ ‘nereid,’ or something of that sort, but his confusion would not per- mit him to arrange his ideas)—‘‘whken this young lady sprang to the rescue.”’ “Yes, I saw it, poppy! I saw it!? bawled the parrot. \ Ay NY Sw Mw NY . Ss a Ge ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS IN THE YEAR 1870 BY STREET & SMITH, {N THE CLERK'S OFFICE OF THE DISTRICT COURT FOR THE SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF NEW YORK. FRANCIS 8S. STREET, FRANCIS S. SUITH, \ Proprietors. i pene tthe iM i ty re ® ee Se ela le aad Ler es Three Dollars Per Year. N ALR ALS, tate Copies Five Dollars. 0. 20. iy Yl Ud i WITH A QUICK, DEXTEROUS MOVEMENT, THE LIEUTENANT SECURED THE MAN’S ELBOWS BEHIND HIS BACK. “Pur-r-r-r! pur-r-t-r!’? said the panther, escaping from the maiden’s grasp, and rubbing her head against her masters knee, but still eyeing tne stranger with feline distrust, / ‘ Danvers could hardly help laughing at the strange group, which was now bordering upon the ridiculous, when the old ranger blurted out with a ludicrous attempt at ease of manner: “Do you know who that gal is, lieutenant?’ “I know she is one of the most graceful and beautiful creatures I ever saw,” was the gallant reply. “She’s another of my darters, and she lives on the top of Pike’s Peak,” cried the trapper, boisterously, and dis- regarding. the officer’s compliment. ‘‘Speak out, Allie, ain’t yer. my darter ?”’ “Yes, father.’ ‘An? don’t yer live on the top of Pike’s Peak?” “Yes, father,” replied Allie, who bad not the remotest idea where Pike’s Peak was, or, perhaps, supposed it to be the spot upon which she was standing. “What did I tell yer?’? exciaimed the trapper, turning exultantly to his unbidden guest. ‘What did you say she lived here for?” “IT didn’t say so,” replied the lieutenant, smiling, and beginning to obtain an inkling into the meaning of Squir- rel Cap’s singular manner. “What did yer say I wasn’t her father for ?’? “I didn’t say so,’”’ said the young man, now laughing outright. “When a feller finds a gall in the deep snow, don’t that make him her dad? Eh?” . “Certainly,”' was the reply. ‘But, my friend, Iam only the more rejoiced that you have such a beautiful daughter, and don’t think you will find me a bear to de- vour her, 1 am so tired and worn out with my sixty mhiles’ ride through the snow that really I can’t think of any one but myself at the present moment.” The cold wind was blowing in through the open door, and Danvers sank upon one of the stools, and drew up shiveringly to the crackling fire, “Beg yer pardon, lieutenant,’? muttered Squirrel Cap, bustling into the cabin, and ciosing tie door after him. “Allie, gal, | guess you needn’t. go back to Pike’s Peak summit to-day, I'll let yer git some breakfast for the stranger an’ me. Put out the candle—there’s daylight enougili to see by. Puss, see if yer got enough feed in yer box. Polly, shut up your noise! [Is that ere fire big enough to cook by? Whiar’s them coffee-grains ?”’ “} didn’t say nothin’, poppy! I warn’t makin’ no noise!’ Squalled the parrot, now making up for her slight inter- val of silence by screaming and chattering incessantly for some moments. “Wall, lieutenant, how did yer leave ’em at the fort??? said the old man, sitting down beside his guest, and rap- idly regaining his customary geniality. “Well, very well, my friend!’ muttered the other sleep- ily, and nodding his head, as the warmth of the great fire began to tell upon his benumbed and wearied frame. Se whar be ye bound for now all alone by yourself? eh There was no reply, for the young officer’s head was on his breast, and he was breathing heavily. “He tired and sleepy,’ said little Allie, looking up from her work. “Why so he is, poor feller! But thar ain’t no need of your looking at him, Allie, my dear. Gaze on your own mug, as Semirameramerus observed to Mistress Nelly Gwin at the London Colleseum.”’ _ Nevertheless, he took up the form of the wearied officer in his strong arms, and laid it tenderly upon his own couch of skins, . CHAPTER X. DANVERS AND SQUIRREL CAP IN CONSULTATION, It was late in the morning when Lieutenant Danvers awoke in Raccoon Lodge. He was greatly refreshed, and possessed of an appetite to do ample justice to tne smok- ing venison and bear’s meat and the strong coffee which pe Cap and his foster-daughter had in readiness for lim. The lieutenant could not forbear frequent glances at Allie as she moved about the table. He also noticed the whiteness of her face and hands, and tne delicate beauty and purity of her features. She was shy and coy enough, and seldom encountered his gaze with her large, umpid blue eyes. Indeed, between his eating and his half-glance scruti- ny of the mysterious snow-waif, he failed to notice the growing annoyance he was causing his jealous host. At last the Jatter could contain himself no longer, and spoke out gruffly, but not unkindly: “Tieutenant, L hain’t axed yer yit nothin’ bout whar yer goin’, what yer goin’ to do, nor nothin’ else what- somever. But whatsomever it be yer on—Injun_ fightin’ or robber killin’, blood or plunder—yer can count mein as yer friend and backer to anywhar this side of kingdom come! 1 only axes yer one favor—an’ a blessed leetle one at that—in return.” “I hope that you can be of immense service to me, my dear fellow,’ said Danvers, somewhat surprised at the sudden earnestness of his host. “You have only to com- mand me for anything in my power to grant.” : “IT only axes this ere,” said the trapper. “This ‘ere leetle gal is tie candlelight of my old age, an’ the sky- pocket ol my ripe and ruddy existence, as Cardinal Wool- Sey Said to the sunny Empress of Portogal’s georgeous climuate. I want yer-promise, as a true-blue Christian and a loyal poic of the realm, as how, on yer quittin’ this Yere palatial aboje ‘for Laramie’s soundin’ halls an* em- battletured bulwarks of war. yer’ll never think opything more on. her, an’ never breathe nothin’ to a livin’ breath- in’ mortal cuss as how she rests her rosy head an’ hides her purty picter onderneath this classic cabing.” Notwithstanding tle intense ludicrousness of this speech, Lieutenant Danvers did not laugh, nor even smile, His glance slowly turned from the lovely face of the girl to the gaunt, stern visage of his uncouth host. “How is it possible, my friend,” said he, at length, ‘‘for one to banish the thought and recollections of a lovely face? A Sweet memory cannot perish, though its object be far away, even beyond the boundaries of earthly life.’’ “J didn’t think. on that,’? said the old trapper, very slowly, and not without emotion; “I didn’t think on that ! The lieutenant could not view the deep feeling of his rude host without some emotion upon his own part. A struggle seemed to be going on in his breast, but presently his face cleared, and he said cheerfully: “But I certainly can make the other promise, my wor: thy friend; and I do promise, on the word of a man of honor, never to reveal to a'living soul this gentle secret you have here concealed.” The old trapper shook him by the hand, as they arose together from the little table. “I thank yer, an’ I believe’yer!’’ he said. ‘Anh, sir,” he continued, as he gazed fondly at the beautiful girl, who had but very in.verfectiy understood their conversation, “} found her in the deep snow, away down inter the cold white drifts, whar she had been abandoned by some squaws, an’ I warmed ter to life, an’ brougnt her hum, as i kin prove to yer by ole Nineveh, who war dumb, but intellectooal, witness. An’ 1 did more’n that are—I civer- lized her. I taught her iow to chop her meat with knife an? fork, like a Curistian gal,an’ how to read all them ere books up thar—every one on ’em written in first-class, A 1, King Charles’s Engiish. Didn’t 1, Allie?” “Yes, father.’’ ‘An’ aint yer mine? aint finders keepers?” “Yes, father.’? And, though her large eyesstill lingered upon the coun- tenance of the handsome guest, she twined her arms around the old man’s neck, and kissed bis wrinkied brow, while the panther and parrot respectively purred and clamored their determination te receive due recognition. “T think your foster-child must have had white pa- rents,”? said Danvers, smiling his praise of the strange and rugged picture before him, ‘She has none of the Indian traits of feature or form. Her face is growing as fair as a lily, and see! she has thestepof a white maiden —nothing of the pigeon-toed tread of the savage.’? The old trapper hesitated before replying. “I guess I can trust you on the whole thing,” he at length said, ‘Allie, show the gentleman the litle cross you have allers had ’round yer purty neck.” With timid care she drew forth the little cross, bearing the initials A. KE. W., which accident, the reader will re- member, had once, also, presented to the curious scrutiny of the wounded Knglisliman. “That ere,” said Squirrel Cap, while Danvers bent earnestly over the cross, “has been ’round this leetle gal’s neck as long as. she kin remember—as long ’s memory sews up an’ braids in an’ knits together the eternal past with its mystic catgut, as charmin’ly sings an’ chants, an’ warbles the tender poic of Polecat Creek. She doant recollect nothin’, or jist a anatomy of some purty white gals as was onct around her—memory vague-like, recol- lection dim, remembrance misty, thoughts sticky av’ muddy, like bot resin ina pipe-pitch fire. Mash?s been ‘werry young at the time—a reg‘lur little sqaab in @ nest, a Kaller kid on a blue-grass meddar, as Henry Clay scien- tificully an’ exultin’ly exclainated in his brass-band ac- { cents when he stole his washerwoman’s baby. But she’s jist as good asif she reckerlected every white gal’s mug this side of Chiner, an’ jist as spruce an’ sweet as if she was intermately acquainted with every marmaid in the Yaller Sea; an’ that’s so. by the blazin’ pine-Knot of the Ganges! Aint it, Allie?’’ **Yes, father.” “A, E. W ?? muttered Danvers to himself. “No, I can’t make it out.”? -And, still pondering, he shook his head as he returned the keepsake to its owner. “An’ now, lieutenant,’? resumed Squirrel Cap, seating himself again at the now empty table, “if you’re sufficient- ually refreshed, if that ere bar an’ deer meat sits well onder yer ribs, let’s hear what yer up to,” The lieutenant also reseated himself, and earnestly re- lated the particulars of his friend, Morton’s capture, and his determination to risk his life in procuring his release. The trapper shook his head gravely as this narrative was in progress, and said, when it was concluded: ‘an’ d’ye mean to tell meas you’ve got the major’s sanction: for this ere harum-scarum, black-heath an’ bloody-bones chase arter natral-borned devils in their own mountainious retreats, lieutenant ?” “Yes. The major consfdered my proposition very de- liberately, but at length, after thinking of my former ex- periences with these ropvber bands, he yielded his con- sent.” - “It's a cussed sight wuss’n fightin’ Injins, lieutenant.” “I know it, Squirrel Cap, but I’m prepared to accept the chances. I once hada glimpse of the Captain, as they call him, though he never saw me. But it happens that a fellow called ‘Bower Trump,’ a renegade heutenant of our army, and whom I understand is the chief lieutenant of the Captain, was aiso known to me in Texas, long ago. Another advantage in my favor is that I bear a strong personal resemblance to this fellow. I propose to person- ate the renegade, or to attempt it.” “Supposin’ you was to meet this lieutenant himself?’ “If | do not meet him, I shall despair. For part of my plan is to meet him alone, if possible, kili him, and pos- sess myself of anything on his person which may assist me in perfecting my disguise.” “By crimminy, it’s a bold ’un, an’ worthy of a soldier!” exclaimed the Ranger of Raccoon Ridge, with enthusiasm. *An’ I don’t know as how it mayn’t be carried out. A jack-knife’s good as a Royal Bengal skimetar, when in the fist of a trump, as Lord Nelson said to Pizarro at the seige of Bosting.. But ain’t thar no more of these skalla- wags aS knows yer?” “No; tuere is one other whom I have seen, and who is said to have recently become a robber recruit; but he would not know me.” ‘An’ who may he be ?”? ‘‘A ruffian who was recently in the vicinity of the fort. I think they called him Ringtail Gaffer.” ‘Holy smoke of Jerusalem !? exclaimed Squirrel Cap, his brows darkening like a thunder-cloud. ‘‘That’s the rooster I licked in the games at the fort, not two months ago !’? “Indeed |"? The trapper breathed hard, and his brow remained clouded for some seconds, but he presently asked calmly: «What be your plan, lieutenant?”’ “First,” replied Danvers, ‘to obtain of you, if possible, the locations and relative positions on the road of these ‘mail stations,” as the robbers call them.”’ “That 1 can do, if you’llloan me a rag of paper an’ a pencil.” These were instantly given him, and the trapper, lean- ing clumsily over the table, sketched—probably with more graphic power than neatness, a rude diagram of the mailroad, leading from Fort Laramie, northwesterly, skirting the rocky base of Laramie Peak, then proceed- ing along the south bank of the Sweetwater, with the Rattlesnake Mountains on the left, the Black Hills and Rock Independence on the right,and then proceeding tor- tuously northward to the Rocky Mountain passes at the Soublettes Lake—the source of the Yellowstone River— where the road strikes, almost due west, through tne grand mountain chains into Oregon. “Thar, lieutenant!’ said he, while the other earnestly studied the lines of his pencil. ‘At. this pint’’—indicat- ing it bya sharp dct—“two miles back from the road, inter the Rattlesnakes—is Robber Ranche, the chief an’ principal an’ highcockelorum roundyvouzness of all these mean skunks, an’ whar ole Moses sells ’em benzine and castor-oil for pure spirits at *bout seventeen prices a tum- blerfal. Then here, bout twenty miles furder north, ana derned signt nearer the road, is the Blue Station, whar Luke is station-agent, an’ whar Mike, the Mormon, drinks to the health of Prophet Brigham. ‘Three miles back, be- hind the Sugar-Loaf range is Fantire’s Arrapahoe camp, whose redskins helped to defeat yer at Laramie River, over a month ago.” “Yes, yes, go on!’ said Danvers, somewhat impatient- ly, for the recollection of that massacre Nad become the sore-spot of his life, “And thar,” continued the trapper, pointing with his pencil as he proceeded: “‘thar, rignt opposite an’ jist ten miles from Rock Independence, is the Yaller Station, whar the mail was plundered and the teamsters killed, nigh three months ago. Then thar’s four more stations at interveals all the way up to Soublettes; but as the hull length of this ere road-section I’ve drawed so skientific 18 *bout two hundred miles, you won’t, most likely. by no en of kinds of means, go chasin’ grizzlies quite so ur. _“‘Thar!? continued Squirrel Cap, as Danvers busied himself with inscribing the names to the places indicated upon the diagram; ‘‘I mayn’t somehow -be a picter-pain- ter, but seems as how | kin draw, as the mule remarked to the wagon-wheels as was tryin’ to stick in the rut.” The lieutenant was still at his work, when a squall from the parrot interrupted all parties. ‘“‘Robber—robber on the road!” yelled the bird from its lookout. At the same time the panther leaped upon a rafter, and nearly raised the roof ofthe cabin with several of her terrific howls. “By gravy!’ exclaimed the trapper, peering through the high loophole; “he aint a mile away, an’ is ridin’ right up here. C. POINT. BY maitre: alone. The Autumn winds are wailing } at she utterly ¥ ll her our relations resumption, treatin ; ) troubled at this blow on’n “After all » aS you Want cheat me out my rewar To this determiff the obstinately adhered, and heard, without emotion, the pleadings of his unhappy son to forego his claims at least for a tew weeks more. He did notsee why one in the position of Raymond could not do as he pleased, and defy the ments.of the world, and he SEAWEED TONIC, of the Pulmonary Organs SUMPTION, = “Iam fully aware that there are many persons whose preju- shouted. ‘Oh, you’re @ jolly blade, you are!”? and he} hearth. Hf p\ tf 4 ee gt ; f ; ; eased, | ments, of then turned the point and was out of sight. : The man eyed his free-and-easy guest with some sur:| |. _, S!Ow ditwes through Rt Se yh of xe srcae ene Wes censor a tact eae exhibited in | Wxit” would fail to convince them of the efficacy of my reme- The concealed parties now came out Of their hiding- | prise, if not suspicion, but did as he was hid, so far as-|-. ™ Ps PEGs every action. : , Be ‘dies: and that there are others wh a i t place. my VAs planting the torch was concerned, th limmers tremulously bright. Finding his\pleadings of no avail, Raymond become angry, arr AOE f ere Oe oe roumaanim, “Wall, what do yer think of him, lieutenant?” asked Vd sorrow’s saddest plaining, and threatened his father loudly, but Loraine did not yield, | could be prevailed upon to admit their merits, simply because at the trapper, with a grin. not very brutal countenance, and carried weap He was a rough man, in both feature and ger. es y ert sdivinest prayer; and his son then arose, saying, angrily, dices rule them so completely, that “proofs strong as Holy 5 - 5 a 7 y ; “There’s no use of my staying here longer. You will not lis | such an admission would prove detrimental to their particular ar “I Know what I think of you. Why, you're a strategist | belt, of a rather old-fashioned type. =. iy LA AS ain to linger, ten 1o reason, but are determined to ruin’ me by forcing your- - —a real diplomat!” exclaimed Danvers. ‘A Philadeiphia “Suppose you must be from the far-north road, since 1 poe na vain.despair! self uponme. Lassure you, you will not succeed in your de | personal interests. lawyer couldn’t have managed that villain so well as you | don’t recognize your face,’ said he, as he bustled about ’ signs. I am willing to give you all the money you want, but I bi ‘ did,” . the cabin, ‘ i 109 THIR: " Siow wiides alse of night is throbbing won’t have you at Rosenbury House!”’ Fortunately for the welfare of mankind, these doubting peo- “Yes. but Il to make him think I was a mysterious. “Thatis i ” is + 66 sae a . 6 He turned and left the cabin, followed by his father, thinkin communi muraerin™ ‘ffianight a LSLTRATIO Rist, tke himself, to aaron to eet ie aaa DORCAS ARARNIES Pah SERIO Sra riny WE werent ar at, by his own determined retusal, bat he did | Pl¢ forma comparatively. small portion of the igs Re manage him,” returned the trapper, who, probably felt a} “Yes, sir,” grumbled the other, going to do his bidding. More biest unloved, and lonely, he nausea upon the deck, near its side, and his father askea | @78*: They are to be found here and there, but, compared little conscience-stricken at the recollection. ‘But do| _ “And come back immndiately!” called out Danvers, , Have no mile or sigh to me. im 4 ; with the great mass of the world's population, their numbers yer happen to guess, lieutenant; what I thought about | after him. “I want something to eat and drink.” Affection’s ad me, hopes have perished, “You've made your last decision then, Raymon’? There aint 3 you when I was talkin’ to that fine specimender of hoo-| When the fellow returned, he found his guest had And I have ¥ ilded shrine na Sanger ol gent changing your mind!” A099. smpall that Cima Shem, and address mynsittedhose % manity, sich as you are going to risk yer purty life along | thrown some fuel on the fire, and was otherwise making Deep draug s, poured from founts of feeling | As he replied, Raymond made a feint of getting over the side | Who are willing to listen to che dictates of reason, and who are with ?? himself at home with a cigar. “No, I can’t.say I can guess what your thoughts were.” | ‘Now, what have you got to eat?” - teres agent mG manhood divine, are eee amairnatiotatne Topeat: his heek | P** ‘© | disposed to admit the strong logic of well-established facts. \ folutin dbjeo' in undertaxiu sioit a bloody expeutiion.’ | adventurer with mingled. respect a distract eeere |, Eeasinat w since tear-drops, flowing, ~T'menn Tes golag home. with You," was the frm response. | We fe told almost dally that Gomsuption, the scourge of the } “I told you,’ said Danvers, surprisediy, ‘that it was to| got some cold mutton and cold chicken, and some soft "Have ‘de} esertiof my heart, “You can’t put me off longer, Raymoa’. I’m going sleep Rose- | American people, is incurable; that a man whose lungs are dis- e deliver my poor friend, Morton, from these scoundrels, if within my power.’ si ; pit? “Oh, yes, so yer did; only it came inter my old mug as bread, what I baked, some five or six hours ago, myself.”’ ‘Let me have the chicken aud bread, and, if you’ve got any coffee, make me some at once.” ; “Yes, sir—yes, sir,” replied the other, every moment storm-rain, wildly sweeping, iso. grief apart. ken spar, dream-freighted, ‘by House to-night.” aymond turned upon Loraine, his breast full of murderous thoughts, and then he looked around him. The evening had just fallen, and though it was not very dark a deep shadow seemed to rest upon the river, so that it was im- eased must be given over to die; that he must abandon hope; and that the arrangement of his temporal as well as spiritual how thar might be some stronger reason urgin’ of yer on ee a : : tike? ore , obeying with more’ alacrity, though never ceasing his| ip ba mi itled = pase a possible to see far beyond the length of the sloop. affairs should claim his earliest attention. If there were not The young etlocradw lane; common-sense told him, how- | uneasy glances. 1, eae vee | vi : ae - a Tg ee aan lights Sear ed tr sats bP nether eoeeee, owe She facts as undeniable as that the sun will shine in a clear heaven b) ever, that Squirrel Cap could not be deep enough to pene-| Danvers ate and drank heartily, all the time keeping| =—- And le recks on shores unknown. ; ‘a ; . ; ; 3 , trate that ‘‘stronger reason’’—blushed to the eyes. the fellow busy about him, and pibhak tie with questions ; E 7 we atindte ahs ee eee ne TAtK | at mkiday to controvert, these, raudem and, .usuentrenoently Fyom ne mere he nee — the old oor. in 7 off-hand . Hie ated a,’ Ox hn 1s ee Gan you omim ?? he asked, abruptly. harmful assertions, I should feel unwilling to take up the gage cabin, nct a single thought of Helen Larrimer had crossed “The Captain told me he had been here—I met him ith sobs ubled as thine own, “No. What*want swim for?” _ : ‘ ; ; his brain—not a ghost of her image had been shadowed | going sout ia hour ago.” ; F thee , My hearst is hy o'er the ruin ira Bg persist in accompanying me home?” of battle against them; but, fortified with results—/acts—which vlan the heabsiital snow-waif superceded the haughty raplale ronling Ss STi. MT HPe iowa to thew a en ee ee t poe tt ak the Sure. i 3 atu ene ui" oT eee r ( . ., fal ah : . singu ‘ ‘ affianced of Lieutenant Charley Morton in that generous, | with all the rest of ’em) an’ won’t be back for two or * - ed sean Sen neDe ce quesbuanipmiee rei Te | brove that ; AS self-sacrificing heart? ‘Iwas three days. They are all to be off on that ere foray to the yi Beene DUES Fears, Belore he could utter a cry, however, if such had been his . | - At-any rate, he heaved a bitter sigh when he remem-| south, ine he € j -you of.” The iava-tide of anguish gushes intention, Raymond struck “hima blow that sent him reeling CONSUMPTION CAN BE CURED, any , ig L uth, in course, the Captain told.you 0 Fe: , ; A bered the promise—equally self-sacrificing, like enough— | “Yes, and I advised him to give it up—I was afraid he Through ir¢ d dissolves in tears. over the side of the boat into the river. and that the modicliies I prepapes which he had given old Squirrel Cap respecting the little Indian princess. i CHAPTER XII. THE MOUNTAIN MISSION OF DANVERS, After another hearty meal in Raccoon Lodge, although it was late in the afternoon when it was concluded, Dan- vers made preparations for his departure upon his mis- sion of peril, 1t being Squirrel Cap‘s intention to accom- pany nim for some distance. The late hour was determined on as the best, and the trapper was to accompany him a portion of the distance, hadn’t force enough.” — . “Force enough, sir}? exclaimed the keeper, surprisedly. “Why, it’s only a smail emigrant train, sir.” This is just what Danvers wanted to know. | “I know that,’’ he replied; ‘but sometimes I susp: these ‘small trains’ as nothing more than traps form by aereromien: troopsitl fae i “J reckon the Captain’s wide awake enough to keep out of traps, sir.’? ; (ae “Perhaps he is, and perhaps he is not,” muttered ¢ adventurer to himself. And then he continued, al while engaged in picking a fresh chicken-bone: ‘I; t | slackened his speed, becoming more calm as he realized that his ‘ gengular manner could not fail to attract notice. re was a splash and a muffied shriek, and then all was Raymond gave a hurried glance over the scene, to assure him- selt that he nad not been observed, and he then hastened into the little t and rowed Tre ashore. On landing, he cast one look backward, and then sped away from the river, his senses pervaded by a feeling ot horror and at his crime. ; urderer!” he said, ina holiow whisper as_he hastened rd. ‘‘How every one seems to look at me, asif they knew whatI had done. Can my guilt be written on my face?” He pressed his hands nervously over his features, and then hen he had arrived at some distance from the scene of his THE MANDRAKE PILLS, SEAWEED TONIC, and PULMONIC SYRUP, will, if used in strict accordance with the directions, in a ma- jority of cases effect that which the faculty pronounces impossi- ble—they will cure Consumption. An ounce of solid fact is worth a pound of theory, Let me, in order to give him the characteristics of the lawless | fire’s camp in the old place—just back of the mountai er | crime, he signalled a cab and drove to the vicinity of his resi- ; " eT om ee be Ey to meet. a da i ee ie Ware (25 a oe as wh itty : A therefore, present the facts connected with my own individual n the first place, Danvers changed his uniform for a], “Good gracious, sir! you must have been o a rive seemed a long one, and his guilty fears caused him ; ; i rough garb more suitable as a disguise, filling the space | north road, a long’ t 1e,”’ exclaimed the ht Crees fear ne Witatte cliche trai "he vat and oe te a ae thus left in his saddle-bags, with provisions. He was armed to the teeth, and his fine features were expressive of resolution to pursue his desperate undertaking to the bitter end. His magnificent steed presented a strange contrast to |. old Nineveh, but created no envy in the mind of the old- “‘Fanfire mo : Ye weeks ago, ae OOK all the prisoner; _ “Humpht Strange I didn’t see any Arrapal eh on my down trip; but then | rode very many prisoners have they left ?”” “Only three or fuur, sir.” e read the -} made his way unmolested to his home. “He brought his tate on himself.’ he muttered, ‘‘and I am net tc blame. He had no. busimess to driv me to desperation: I suppose_at this moment he’s lying white and cold at the bottom of the river!” He shucdered at the picture presented by his :magination, and then entered ane mansion, with the aid of his latea-key, pro- and, iike thousands of other unfortunates, was given up to die. Eminent physicians pronounced my case a hopeless one, and told me that if I had any preparations to make forthe finai sol emn event, that I nad better make them speedily i believed Style trapper, whose love for his nomely brate was, pro- What became of the others?” 4 ment, his lip curl aing-directly to his own rooms. this just as confidently as did the persons who. ihus affectionate- bably, only second to his affection for Allie. “I suppose the red-skins burnt or knived’em. You ved \albere nd en he dehber: | “Tn tis prese ni state of mind he could not bear the presence or | bar ives aa Ov She had assisted them with her nimble hands in per- | know, they demanded a certain number io be cut up, an’ a2 ‘will. é aidol ta toilet, and he locked the door,and proceeded | ly informed me that my days were numbered and that recovery fecting their preparations, and stood at the door, as the sun was sinking low, to see them off. “Cheer up, leetle gal! I shali be back afore midnight,” ‘the Captain wasn't the man to deny them.” frightful intelligence. The lieutenant’s heart leaped into his throat at d keeper. Se at ae e reply; “but one of _ His first act was to throw his traveling cap into a closet and put the key into his pocket, eusion thatsome one might have noticed his to the p. He then attired himself was impossible. Stilt, the desire to irve Ungerea inmy bosom. was young, and clung iv Jife with the same tenacily chat young said her gruff foster-father, patting her on the head. “Who are those that are left?’ he 31 ed ina voice is hair and person, completely a oid : too, ordinarily do. i did not teet willing to “Good-by, Allie,’ saia Danvers, with more sadness than | husky with excite , but which fai to attract the ice IN a very short hind, tai bape pe tnig an ; r the trapper displayed, and ungloving his right hand, that | attention of the d Oe: Sane Bee ed | his intense excitement, and | abandon hope as song as a single vestige of 1¢ remained. i had | ‘it might touch the tiny palm ne reached it to. ;one of *em ; umly : nation conveyed to me by my physi- Perhaps he thought he held his heart in it, and she p, with a scar on his n returned Sea eee phindy agin Prins codes tte ana [oe ee ee Pees a might feel it beating there. Sue hesitated a moment; he attired Mae, Loraine at the wh cians, out still tnere was a lingering belief thay something .owd _ onthe ground, and the stars then, as she placed her hand in his, a bright blush suffused her face, and the tears were springing from her blue eyes. Tuey rode away—in silence for a long time, until the ie old trapper fell to repeating to himself in a low tone, and |. blue sky. i rea tf The old ranger of the ridge could not refrain from talk- ing any great length of time, and soon began discussing | the merits of the expedition, and the periis its hero was about i encounter, \ “Artér yer cross the Sweetwater, lieutenant,” said he, jj “T’d be orful Keerful how I wentured, near the Blue Sta- tion, Whar old Luke hangs outen his greasy shirt on the | point whar you'll reach the mailroad in five minutes ar- ter crossing the Sweetwater here, war it flows at our feet Were twinkling in a bare | ; } ing him, in the hope a from the fort, and ed Danvers, wonder- d Mike, the’ Mormon, * a How is that ?” = ee t have gone more ’n twenty minutes < “ Phas be he “; “+ oreaH ais E Deleaa ldidn’t seehim.” ay aX you, sir,” sail the man, “how is orth ap They used to be . per opened his eyes wildly, and then burst in C yent! Come, that’s agood / The fellow made a slight movement, but the pressure of a pistol muzzie against the back of his neck speedily re He sele a dark morning witha v ot disguising making his object appare corridor he encounte turned Raymond, angrily. mnitted bigamy, and——”’ “We won’t bring those old- “You broke your wife’s heart, com- , Raymon’,” interrupted 5 " Lhe bo< hen under the influence ot juor. 1 ‘ase, 1 fe. Itook good care that the sailor y face, and I have nothing to is if to see if there was could not be. and / any rate, I have he whoie sthat I am the lawtui mix, moisten with water, and apply, This is used for coating metals; which must be first thoroughly cleaned with ley, to re- pe done, though I Knew noc in what direction to seek for the inuch-desired relief. it was at this gloomy and eventful! period ot wy history tnat £ . 2898, 008; , rs h ut gists | surprise at his mas pu ‘ | ion never seed her blush afore! I never'seed her blush ff e’s gone to join the rest of the at the : ing fas : “quite sober, and | first Jearned of the roots and nerbs from which my remedies tor j afore | ‘ihe tt - : I should have thought you would have met hum thing more to ap- ; ene : ‘The weather was very cold, but there was little snow | c for is comming ‘here to this dreaded disease are now prepared. I procured and used them, and, to-the utter amazement of ali—physicians, triends, and neighbors—began io impreve. My entire system com menced ta _underge..a complete renovatian.. _Expectoration, which formerly had been difficult and painful, now became comparatively easy. I threw off daily large quantities or of- fensive yellow matter. At the same time my long-lost appetite could be obtained. Others, who were too weak to travel, not satisfied with writing, sent for and consulted me in regard to a cae ne j~ ‘ : 2 : : things up 4 f : : like the zephyr ofthe Andes through a Dutch windmill, | stored him to a state of quiescence. Loraine, soberly. “They’ve nothing do with yqu. The was | move all grease and dirt....... News - .—Any painter will er ; oy as sang the sublime poic of Poland, Tom Toodies, An’ | Then, with a quick. dextrous movement, the lieutenant | thing ever did was to put you into Wal’er’s place. If ‘twasn’t | inform you. We are unable to aid you......James Ryno.—Re- | their cases. Toall these applications I responded as I was able. : here, | must leave to your own sweet will; but, if you’re secured the man’s elbows beliind his back with one of for consequences, ’d be tempted to confess truth to-morrow,” “But you know very well that if you should do sucha thing, quest the gentleman to send particulars, and we will publish thenw and thus benefita great number who require such knowl- {had fully regained my health, and gratitude for the happy near Dan Davis’s in four or five days, you. may hear of | the straps. , edge.......: R. Q.—Procure a copy of No, 52, in which the recipe 38 i vf 7 me in that vicinity. Good-bye!” — The victim began to rear and bellow. bw Saen seas ae path all’ seaigher ees for the removal of fleshworms appeared. Any news agent will result prompted me to turn my attention to the science of medi- The ileutenant took the extended hand of the trapper,| ‘Whoa, whoa, dobbin |’? said the lieutenant, laughing, | “I s‘pese that’s so.” get oy paper - hue, Heform.—See reply to -K. KK.” in | ine with the hope of thereby being able to be of service to my and the two horsemen turned, and were riding from each other, when the latter turned Nineveh around, and called upon the other to stop. The lieutenant did so, in some surprise. Re aha . ; 7 : in’ on? Pr wha with | D > own con- ™: ; F ns “I forgot suthin’,’’ said Squirrel Hep, again grasping | it round his captive from head to foot so tightly that he eh "tT ro ip at time ‘of it, and was glad oer oath Can't | above. ey ine Pe teeth, noe TiB ues By % Andrecer FO the terrible disease from which I had suffered so long and so a and wringing the young man’s liand. ‘‘Heaven bless yer, | could not budge an inch. ‘spect, under those circumstances, to have me dote on you.”’ paint magic lantern slides, see No, 5...... + 4.—COLD CREAM.— “ i ‘ lieutenant | and good luck.” , He then returned to the fire-place, and, coolly lignting | _ ‘‘Like Lady Rosenbury, then,” said Raymond, bitterly, “you | Mix half an en hd D dtacedhansiewe eee ah mpeuitehas Se Pes co Soe one os The mae Before Danvers could reply to these feeling words, | another cigar, smilingly contemplated the position of | oye Walter better than mer” a the owner ofthe | applied to the face and hands, it removes impurities. und makes | SU Myself that my case was not an exceptional, one. The Ninevah was once more wheeled about, aad rider and | affairs. men Do thmk more Walter n you, But that needn't cases | the skinsoft and emocth. .,:.Culaneous—See above...... Perfa-.\ closer wiy investigations the more satisfactory Were my condi. steed were gone in a moment. i The man had ceased to cry out, and, after a lapse of | trouble tween youn me. We'll gét on together famously.” mer.—Hair O1n.—Castor Oil has long been used as a hair dréss- ie ) Pa a} The stars were peg brightly, but, immediately be-| some moments, said to his captor:. thea “But, father,” said Raymond, using the title that belonged | ing. A Wr couse op Feito wer cetit.), is eflcctiial it heroine tte, sions. I felt convinced that tens of thousands of my fellow- yond, the black pine forests of the. mountain slopes ap-} ‘‘Will you permit me to ax you a question, sir?” to Loraine, when addressed by him, with the hope of making | ounces of cologne spirit a8 Nee Sone eeping Lie ¥ : bass as * peared unbroken, and the way looked lonesome and| ‘With all my heart! Speak out, old fellow :”” some impression upon his heark “you can see that Wy, Hila eee SOY See Peatehades the atin Cen AG LL ee oe ee ee ee areary enough, 94 an wie- drove his horse into the thin- “Well, sir,” said the man, “since you are evidently dome Led oreepapattie ep Mialte removal, and not my happiness eiear na d beautiful inseme be perfumed in any way to suit} Were not as desperate and apparently hopeless as mine had sneeted ice of the river ford. after our gang with a sharp stick, why didn’t you com- “No is i fe ’ he fi 7 h Ach dy ood dressing is : we ‘ : a! s such thing. Safe *s long as you’ve got money. As to | the fancy of the purchaser. cheap and very g ressing is . After passing through the narrow forest path, however, | mence by killing me, when you bad it in your power to do haptudeactt man ean't be happy with fortun’ like yours, and | made by dissoiving four ounces of perfectly pure dense glyce in been, and I argued from this that remedies which had proven ed northward by a tolerably luminous stariight. "| trouble with mney? > "Ours imstead OF faking allthis | houses, and bors, and ral Rage focal mother, it Luin te | Un permanes ani herslore under mauenes teal rete: |S efeetive with me would prove equally so with others, Tre. Y ‘ ‘ f u vith me} unhappy. no es? 00) yal’er, 2 1a p on re, a . aT . 3 He had not gone far, before the clatter of hoofs appris- Danvers hesitated for a moment, and then replied: *nuiLly, paints few pictures, no ’count—not worth shillin’ the lot Sas oer cen Por beg pene al vee naa? oe pared niy medicines in a pleasant and attractive form, and an- ed him of an approaching horseman. He cocked a revel-| “If you had resembled all of these murderers whom 1 | ,WC2Fs, good ab dinias’ Sh anicoRmiy Dig Tinh of Atetehnio ex trash Ghnataneet Decnerete minien ace for a fortuight. You | nounced them to the world. The resultsare well known. a anda et into “ sideration eke ov od have seen, | erat not have hesitated to blow your brains | horses, no wine-vaults, nothing ’t all butlittle canvas, few cheap | May preenre it at apy drug store, (eget directions ne, a. sii] ti cusanda of gudennd wien ‘Wornen anil’ tibiee Wink Weel ' 0 Came the ioneiy rider. Single Mash of the star-} out as soon as I had pumped all the information out of | paints, and girito love. He nas fight for her with you and uncle | Grundy.—C+MENTS FOR EARTHEN AND GLASSWARE.—]. Heat the ; ’ ’ " rif | ~~ shine showed lium to be the Captain himself, mounted/ you that I needed; but I saw nothing extraordinarily more ‘nall women worth, but be keeps happy.” *Tain't in the | article to be mendeda little above boiling water heat, then ap-| on their way to the grave, have been cured, and are today | upon his giant steed. The lieutenant raised his pistol, | brutal, or villainous, in your face, and hadn't the heart to | Number things you got, but spirit you ’ceive ‘em m.” ply @ thin coating of gum shellac on both surfaces of the broken | ): 14... evidences of the fact that + but there was a chance for nothing. The Captain swept | kill you.” The philosopher put on his hat, tipping it back, and looked at as al tod ie . nictbbio apes rihe solution, and bite : by on the wind—a perfect phantom of speed. “I thank you for it,’ said the captive, with much sad- Aetiny Salas Settee bene ae Semmens ha Won, 1 | the parts firmly together until the cement is perfectly dry. . 3. CONSUMPTION CAN BE CURED: “I would pursue,” muttered the disappointed Danvers, | ness in his rough tones, ‘‘but you only Spared me fora} ‘Take my vice, Raymon’,and be coniented.. Everything °d| Take a small quantity of isinglass and dissolve it in spirits of ane a nor ap as the wind, could i AV ATEANS that < death.” ; been ali papi at youd onl ites. ings nee: pan see where oe by the i See ECURAE aba iy oan see ee and I think I may say, without arrogating to myself any more ying steed! However, it’s a satisfaction to know. that} ‘How.so?”? you've made. all mistakes, but’tain’t too late rec’fy ’em. CAVE Se Sin any oN EB - is justly my due, that I haye had as much experience in he is going in the opposite direction to my own course.” |. “Why, don’t, you see, sir, that as soon as either the] ,,, But Lady Rosenbury madg a will to-day, leaving at her death eT iawing aieeaes Sees cane ee Se asonT, oe Se aidke oF consumption as any other person “4 the coun. The hoof-beats had died away with astonishing rapid-| ‘Cap‘ain’, or Mormon Mike, returns to see me bound | yo eso Mater ass mind give him: You make'|Ipecacuauha, wine, four drachins; flowers of sulphur, two} te Soha shail becky Wonder inlout ity, and the lieutenant also quickened his pace as ie spur- | here, and to guess the cause, [ shall be cut in pieces?” great mistake im wanting all yourself. Why not be willing give | drachms; tincture of cardamon, one ounce. Mix, and take one | ‘Ty, and that my success ,one ‘ . red in the opposite direction. “I did not think of that,” said Danvers, thoughtfully; | Wal’er something, while all dught belong him?” teaspoonful three times a day in. a wine-glassful of water. For | Let the reader remember that these are not mere fancied be, Nothing but the bare, drear forests belted the road on either side fora long distance, until he reached the nar- row turning off, which bad been indicated to him as the route leading to the Blue Station, and this he pursued ata more leisurely pace, as he was compeiled, to, in fact, by the narrowness of the passage. The path was also steep, and, upon nearing its summit, he thought he heard voices some distance in advance. This warned him to fasten his horse in the forest, and to mount the remainder of the ascent on foot, which he did very cautiously. Upon reaching the top, he saw the station, or cabin, in a little open space, .A man on horseback was talking to another man, whose head, appeared at the littie window and speaking to him as to a refractory steed. The next instant, the other strap firmly pound his knees, and he was thrown upon his side. Taking a strong line, which he found in one corner, Danvers then wound “but it is not my fault.” The keeper was silent for some moments, and he then said, with genuine emotion: “You were right, sir, in guessing that I am not natur- ally brutal. I was forced to join these wretches. They captured our emigrant train nearly two years ago, at the soublettes, and slew every one but mysel{—even includ- ing my only brother, and only spared my life on condition of serving them in this ’ere capacity. Heaven knows, I would give all the fingers of both my hands—I would work in jail for ten years, sir, to be out of it.’ The emotion of the rough, simple fellow € was genuine, and it had its effect upon the young ofticer, ' “Tt is!” declared Raymond, anxiously. ‘‘You have some af- fection for your own son, haven't you?” “Not much,” frankly replied Loraine. “You see, Raymon’, you’re the image of your mother, an’ she was always scoldin’ Raymond.replied that he cduld not see so large a fortune slip from him without regret, adding: “His habits are simple, and he has plenty of money for all his wants, so that that sum would be useless tohim. ‘I have always looked forward to haying it myself, and I am determmed not to lose it.’ £ ‘ ‘How can you keep it or getit?” Raymond hesitated a moment, and then replied: “Idon’t mind tejling you what I did before coming here, Since you will never betray me. I got the will out of her‘lady- ship’s desk, and burned it———” p Loraine uttered a cry of astonishment. ; “And so, if Lady Rosenbury should die, I should inherit the pro y she meant to leave to Walter.” : “But when she finds out the will’s missing, ladyship’ll suspect SS tear ue —The recipe for genuine Worcestershire sauce is a secret known only to the manufacturers. If any of our readers know of a recipe for making a fair imitation of the genuine article, we hope it will be forwarded for publication.. ion Hash.—To remove corns, see No. 16. 2. Answered boils, a flaxseed pouitice, applled as warm as the patient can bear it, and renewed frequently, soon effects a cure. Tf the patient is subject to pimples of boils, his blood needs purification; and this may be: effected by taking a\ dose of Epsom salts once or twice a week, and living for a fortnight on Jight diet, such as bread and milk, avoiding pork, pastry, and greasy preparations. ee Buck Hunter.—You should take them to a bird fancier...... Jersey Blue.—l. The author of the pamphlet is a swindler. 2. Another of the same stamp......4 Vouth.—l. Shave. 2. Fair.. Archie M.—1. Yes. 2..A quack concern...... E. M. A.—Cannot answer....S..@, Appleget.—l and 2.—Impurity of the blood. You will find a rex an No. 14. 3, Itissaid that ringworms can be readiiy cure the following simple process: Buran a bit of linen rag on the br pht portion of an ax-blade; on blowing awa the ashes there will remain a small quantity of thick oily fluid, suffering fellow-creatures. I devoted myself closely to my studies, and more especially to that branch of them relating to statements. They are positive living facts, of which [am the living evidence. ‘ There is an old adage which says, “What has been done may be done.” I have been completely cured of consumption by the remedies 1 now offer to the public. Thousands of others have testified to similar happy results trom their use, and thous- andsof others still might be benefitted asi have been could they but be prevailed upon to try the virtue of THE MANDRAKE PILLS, SEAWEED TONIC, and PULMONIC SYRUP. Ali thas is necessary to convince the most skeptical of their merits is a fair trial. : abi you th icat if which, at intervals of ten toiwelve ; ry dil . of a lof overiWhe -Gabimedoon, “Why have-you not attempted to escape?” he added. yetshe a never find out thatit is missing,” replied Raymond ocies anid peut an the sincivtctie. i Washing the skin!}, Full directions accompany each of the medicines, so that it it He could only distinguish the | words, “Good-night,| “It is impossible, sir. They won't giveme no weapons, | a dark look on his face. ‘ ’ | with lemon-juice makes it smooth and clear..,...St, Udo Brand. | not absolutely necessary that patients should see me personally, aa a eae eronaan dashed past his crouch- | they watch me like fiends, and, beside, I’ve got the rheu- " stared hewn of his son, Sadion it difficult to compre-, cree omnmendd fares ee an Boome vars pair. titleas they desis to have theikléngs exaxiined, For ‘this pur- : vomior i j }. i S oil recommended in No. 17...... . F. Carey , Re i, . path. eae ney RRP erent g Cun SAGER ee cena — es hades ”- fal : trots that er his visitor eeeanee mony ater in roo nsé to a request, sends the following recipes: VERBENA | pose I am personally at my Principat Orrice, No. 15 N. SIXTH “Mike, eh ?? muttered Danvers. ‘Then the rider must have been the Mormon of whom Squirrel Cap spoke, and that leaves the road to the station free to me.”? He returned to his steed, and, after waiting until the hoof-beats of the retreating horse died away, he mounted, rode up boldly to the station, and rapped Joudly with the butt of @ pistol. He had to repeat the summons several times before , re paced the floor, smoking his cigar thought- ully. “Why,” he muttered to himself, “‘would not this rough fellow—who certainly hasn’t got brains enough to prac- tice upon me—serve me better as a secret friend than as a dead foe?” “I wouidn’t b’ueved you'd ever come to talking of murders jest as you'd speak of your dinner. You rea bad mau, Raymon’ —a_very bad man!” “I am obliged to do things I wouldn’t doif I hadn’t this cursed Secret weighing upon me. I was good enough until, yoor wife told it to me on her death-bed, but since then everythirg has gone wrong. I don’t consider myself bad because I endeavor to defend myself and secure my position. As a choice between As ifthe keeper had divined his captor’s thoughts, he now said, with a brightening tone: two evils, I shall be takjng the least in removing any dangerous persons, and I shall not hesitate te do se!” Wartrr.—Oil of Verbena, 1 ounce: oil of lemon, 1 ounce; cologne spirits (95 per cent), 6 pints: soft water, 2 pints. Mix the oils with 2 pins of spiriws,the water with the remainder, and then mix all together.——Rose_Water.—Oil of roses, 1 ounce, by weight, carbonate Magnesia, 1 ounce. Rub the oil with the magnesia, and add 20 pints of water. Rub the water with the magnesia and oil before filtering, and then filter. Street, corner of Commerce, PHILADELPHIA, EVERY SATURDAY. Advice is given without charge, but for a thorough examina. tion with the Respirometer the price is five dollars, Price of the Pulmonic Syrup and Seaweed Tonic, each $1.50 per bottle, or $7.50 a half dozen. Mandrake Pills, 25 cents per Bournett’s KAciston improves the complexion without injury, box. J. H. SCHENCK, M. D. outer mare: as Shakespearer observed eee McFag- | > ; { ‘ ene! 3D ion ne returned. i ate freely of such food as was palatable to me, and ' gerty i any Cues nomes mong Ape mee, slinkdnto . piv's Periactly FUR, ee the o 0 y tr / _ “One ot the th trom my path,’ which was at the same time nutritious and wholesome. Expec- swamp, or thicket, or any shadder that comes handy, an’ | r mY (Wee T Ge s in that be der take “you shore “and my agency ce will never be suspected , try. near at he ain aaa ental! ipiiaeelt or some other ey ae sir! Not an agent, eh? feteh z or : Sed de genni y wo erand Lady Rosenbury— | toration became less copious and less offensive, exhausting uss like him. ou ketch ole Luke alone, yer won’t 3 — ack obeye nallin at ha ‘op bi 5 Lady Geraldi ‘ ; : a much iwidaales far he’s a derned coward, a easy to ; told a before,” said the other, | of which Kindly egrec? to. him shore in consideration ofa —< erent er. ee = =" " night sweats ceased: the racking and harassing cough abated; lick; but if Mike, the Mormon, tackles yer, yer may have | still smiling the Captain doesn’t supply co aera tiene ene : i by Loraine, and the a aul venacion ~ = ag a pag of his valet, | the sever broke. the pain departed; flesh planted itself on my i ¢ Ig ¢ ize : 2, j . ‘ i . : 7 ; . i y s t: ’ : yer hands full. He’s a smooth phized, sanctumcomious his Keepers down re Wi , very fancy pistols, if those “Now, come cabin, Raymon’,” said the owner of the sloop. | and went 1o the door, unlocking it with some mental agitation’ eA OS TBU i Oke UL Ri! ei es ok ae | cuss, but a airthquake in, a rough-and-scrouger. If yer | are specimens in your belt. ‘Tain’ dark, as you see, though itll come on dusky in course | “ “J you please, my lord,’ said Tooks, obsequiously, *Laay y , g go agin that ere ‘bower trumps,’ I’d find outen alll could “No, that he don’t,” said the Keeper, glancing down at | hour or less ” Rosenbury d¢sires your presence in her boudoir. Her ladyship | health. From a mere skeleton I became a stout strong, robust ?bout him aforehand—he’s a dead-shot with the pups, an’ | bis weapons, with an expression of shame. “I calls it We ynbpd aera, followin tis her to the’ little cabin | \ould be happy io see you immediately.” 5 . ; i if a rooster to rearon his hind legs, as Job Printer said | mean—an’ worse nor mean—I ¢al.s it stingy. One of ’em | “Bich was already lighted by asmall lamp. i f Raymond's pale checks became still ‘paler, as he remembered | man. and I nave maintained both strength and flesh to this day. *bout his line-o’-battle muel.) Most of the gineral make | is broke; and this one”—taking one from bis belt, and | ,.12¢ Toom remained unaltered since its occupation by Walter, | that her ladyship had told him on the previous day that she did ; ; up, the line and file of the gang, air nothin’ but a raft. of viewing it contemptuously, ‘this ere one will go off, put Seed ee, ot temeeeoins in Raia not wish him to enter her presence again, and, with ill concealed 1 weigh two hundred and thirty-five pounds; I am blessed with ree | y ie F's) ; 1 eo ; , t empty, but mo: ie - t , fe ; yr . thal was > Galled to : : : : murderin’ thieves, who’ll only buat inter yer, like the one- wouldn’t kill a canary bird at fifty yards.””, ; 7 “Sit, down, m’son,”’ said Traine, hospitably. “This room has eens Daunte ican tees ahonet Shae ceiteranabiag pee an appetite vouchsafed to but few men, while my digestive or- eyed bull of Bashin, and furnish powder-meat. But the “It ts a mean-looking thing; let’s look at it,’ said Dan- | thousan’ ’sociations of histor‘calin‘erest. In that lower berth | ing dy Rosenbury’s boudoir. ~ ans are amply equal to all the requirements of a healthful con- Captain’s a speckled bantam, with a hand as swift to an’ | vers, lazily reaching out his hand, into which the weapon | Wal et Ne many poets he mare eid anaes aan Sea (To be Contmuea). : .¥ from his beltas a flee on highly-colored nose, an’ a black | was at once unsuspectingly placed. “Pretty mean, pretty | Your Hea gaat set tied right vidd Sida jdack: and me. : dition of my system. rh eye like sparrer-hawks in a rat trap. He dances along as | mean !’ he continued, quietly shaking off the percussion- | Jack's the tela’ that rowed you ‘board—have! had gay times ; Now, be it remembered all these wonderful changes were light on. them big horses of his’n as asoap-vubbje-in a| cap, and putting the weapon in his pocket, \ 7 *thin these walls. We’ve sung, told storiesthat’d tear the hear THE LARGEST NEWSPAPER MAIL which goes to any ; q . hot-skillet, an’ nothin’ short of a streak, of green-greased | ‘‘Ha! ha! ha !’? laughed the fool; “some of the other | off’n your head, and drunk more bottles good wine’n you could q i try, is received by G. P. Rowell & | WTousht by the use of the medicines I prepare— lightuin’ will cave him in! He’s a stunner an’ a staker, | agents used to play that joke, too, ‘It’s jolly.” count. Have suthin’?”” ‘dccligae one firm in this country, is r At coe as Napoleon the Great said of Gineral Thomas Thumb.” | “1 told you all the time I wasn’t an agent,” replied our | , ie AEE gy I oh Meats eclined ‘the prof- | Qo, the New York Advertising Agents. Their place of | wranDRAKE PILLS “They must be a terrible set, if they are all as you paint | adventurer, without abating bis pleasant smile. a eeSich as Hid Meant the “dark ‘side and the bright side. But | business is at 40 Park Row. . r > them, my friend,’ exclaimed, Lieutenant “Danvers, For the first time, the fellow’s face fell. He turned pale | wal'er forgave me, bless his nobie heart, Jes? like him.” SEAWEED TONIC. dang ng at the ogmsal description of the garrulous trap- | a moment, but—not all a coward—he then crouched back, AS the awraay ot re sloopaeted signs of giving way to maud- ; , per. ‘But youremember you were going to inform me | and prepared to spring. lin grief, Raymond abrupuy, bade him show more sense, as ; . and PULM! IC SYRUP. ' of two or three friendly cabins, where, in case of neces- “Don’t do it 1’ said Danvers, without altering his posi- | ¢ wished to soroe on very bearer Maree wats Saat Our Knowledge Box. a f anrae sity, I might progurs food and shelter,” : tion, and covering the other with his revolver with the einai dscmiomtie hoon iia aren obliges to-enit A cure, seemingly so miraculous, naturally created astonish. | ? “Sartain! Oneof ’em’s Dan Davis’s, a nice cabin on | rapidity of thought. i d then nd remarked: \ Ww i : sia the furder side of Rock Independence, an’ not knowed, 1| ‘Aren't you really a mail agent, sir?” asked the now Ei Rabe nee _s fun ribouaht sie my proposal of yes- A FEW PARAGRAPHS WORTH REMEMBERING. | ment in the minds of those who knew me. I was literally be i - ~ j ? hy > ape i i rday ? = S. . . icj me, te plipaA ore ane yee. AROMeY: yu - sours Melton, patti. paapseues keeper, Renting his ago head. ISAY Tas fe Lan b QUESTIONS ANSWERED AND INFORMATION WanrTeEp.— | Sieged on all sides. 1 had visitors daily who besought me togive 1 e as? rag ’ KNOV 5 me as ve been telling y ou wasn't a along, ut you “To removing Walter,” was the response. “It 1s not necessa- | Amos Keeter.—To GALVANIZE.—Take a solution of nitro-muriate them the remedies which had wrought the wonderful restora well as he does his ‘futur grandchildren. His crib’s ‘bout | wouldn’t believe me, you incredulous fool. Stand. per- fosthet0 Lae ta y arguments in favor of such a course. | of gold (gold dissolved in a mixture of aquatortis and muriatic : eight miles from Dan’s—due north. That’s the only | fectly still there, and Il won’t hurt you.” You know that he stands in your way as well as mine.” "| acid), and add to a gill of it a pint of ether or alcohol; then 1m- | tion and had wrested me from the very jaws of death. Letters = safety-valve | Know on, except, if you run-so fur as Sou- Sull retaining his pistol, Danvers arose, and, going be-} “Let nim stan’ there, then? exciaimed Loraine, determined- | merse in it the article which you desire to galvanize. In about 5 ’ . ; ~ bieties, the charcoal-burners. They air so numerous that | hind the keeper, he took down from a nail on the wall|ly. ‘Raymon’, your heart 1s wuss ’n a nether mill-stun! You Afxen.t eects ae po peeee wan & a ot eas at oor were received by scores, importuning me to impart the secret i the mail-robbers are afeard on ’em, an’ they air all hon- | two strong harness-straps, which he had noticed hanging | ought be ’shamed yourself!” m g bin ft » STeAase ae ; HY : : ; ; Rs > yy — D —Nitrate and inform the writers where the specifics for consumption ai est to the core. Now, my lieutenant, we've come to the | there when he first entered the station, ; You’re a proper person to rebuke me,I should say!’’ re- ABS gunrmn alt, $0 grains,‘ cmeaee a ieee igaeocida, af ® woes —f tp _ anh BANE SENE SEIMEI at 4 : neem. Sasha ea Se a en aa EOIN roves eeen ee er oe, oe 4 This Brand of ALPACA, on account of its fineness of. cloth and richness of color, has become the Standard Alpaca now used in the United States. ; » These Goods are greatly improved for the Spring and Summer wear, being of the richest. and purest Shade of fast Black, and made of the very finest material ; they are absolutely superior to any ALPAOAS ever sold, in, this country, and are now one of the most sashiona/le and economical fabrics worn. These beautiful Goois are sold by most of the leading Retail Dry Goods Merchants in New York City, Brooklyn, and all the leading cities and tovens throughout all the States. BG Purchasers will know these Goods, as a ticket is attached to each piece bearing a picture of the Buffalo, precisely like the above. WM. I. PEAKE & CO., 46, 48, and 50 White St., New York, Sole Importers of this Brand for the United States. _ WANTED---AGENTS IN ALL PARTS OF THE INTRYto sell an article of great merit. 100 per cent. profit can be realized. Only asmall sum of money re- quisite. No risk. For further particulars address S. L, Box 3609, New York Post-office. w25-lt TONDER! WONDER !—My Magic Compound will force the beard to grow on the smoothest face “r hair on the baldest head, thick and heavy in every case, in 21 days, or money re- funded. Sent by mail for 50 cents a package, or 3 for one dollar. Address I. F. JAGGERS, Box 2743, St. Louis, Mo. w25-1t “rmnIME IS MONEY.*—Watches superseded—The Dollar Time Keeper—A Prerrect Gem.—Elegantly cased in Oroide of Gold, Superior Compass Attachment, Enameled Dial, Silver and Brass Works, Glass Crystal, size of ladies’ watch. Will denote correct time, warranted, superb and showy case, entirely of metal. This isno WOOD Compass. Is entirely new—patented. 10,000 sold in three weeks. Only $1 each, three for $2, in neat case, mailed free. Send for circulars. Address the sole manu- facturers, MAGNETIC WATCH CO, w25-13t Hinsda'e, N. H. ARING, CORING, AND SLICING MACHINE. Four turns toan apple. Sold ores w25-1t D. H. WHITTEMORE, Mfr.. Worcester, Mass. kar The last drawing of the Royal Havana Lottery, that appears in another column of our paper, will set at rest the anxious hopes and fears of such persons as have invested in that popular concern. Such of our readers as ) May be the holders of lucky numbers will doubtless feel grateful to the Evening Telegram for bringing them the joyful intelligence Which probably acquaints them with the fact that aes richer this afternoon by thousands of doilars than t nin imagined themselves. Although op- sed, as a general thing, to any scheme of the iottery ind, we are compelled to admit that the Royal Havana Lottery is probably the fairest of its kind patronized by the New York public, and Messrs. Taylor & Co., the agents of the concern 1n this city, are fully capable of sustaining its popuiarity in this quarter. ; WM. KNABE & COUS ? (BALTIMORE) _| WORLD-RENOWNED Grand, Square, and Upright PIANOS Used at the Academies of Music of New York and Brooklyn by the Italian Opera, Richings’ Opera, Ole Bull's Concerts, and ail the leading Entertamments in the United States. These Pianos are before the Public 36 years, and upon THEIR EXCELLENCE ALONE have attained an UNPURCHASED pre-eminence that proponnees them unrivaled. Every Piano is fully war- ranted for Five Years. “eee ALSO, NEW PIANOS RENTED AND SOLD ON INSTALL- MENTS ; ; ie J. BAUER & CO., oor Agents, 69 Washington St., Chicago, Ill. 650 Broadway, New York. w25-10t _-ELGIN. WATCHES ANUFACTURED BY THE NATIONAL WATCH COMPANY, Pronounced by pigues and connoisseurs throughout the coun- try to be the Best TIME-KEEPERS now offered to the public for LADIES’ OR GENTLEMEN’S USE. . They combine improvements not found in any other Watches of either Foreign or American make. dies desirous of pur- THE HEART’S WINTER. BY NED BUNTLINE. Sad, the wailing winds of winter -* Sweep athwart my lonely path— Sweep along with dirge-like music O’er Hope’s shadowed cenotaph. And my spirit madly tosses ‘ On the waves of troubled thought, Counting all the past life-voyage As a labor yielding naught. Oh! this brain-work, how it presses On asystem worn and tired Oh! the cold world, how we hate it, When its Spring-loves have expired! Oh, how lonely Thought will wander When the Soul feels all alone! Oh, how dark seems all before us, When the joys we loved are gone! Sad the wailing winds are sighing Over the grave of pleasures fied; Black the clouds of gleom are flying O’er the forms of hopes now dead. What, ah! what is even life worth, If a desert we must tread, Counting step by step in sadness, Till the last faint breath is sped? Ph Ee Shadowed Altar: ? Betrothed, Wedded and Divorced. A Story of New York City Life. “The Shadowed Altar’ was commenced in No. 16. Back num- bers can be had of all Newsdealers throughout the U. S.} CHAPTER XLVIII. A month—a long month was gone by, andin that month, how much can occur to make or mara whole life, none but those who have lived a life of changes may know. Mr. Summerdown sat in the pleasant front room which he occupied with his bright-eyed wife, her dimpled hand clasped in his, her smiling face beaming full upon his— yet he was silent and thoughtful. **What is the matter with you, hubby?’ she asked in her usual playful way! “you look as sober as Judge D—— when he has lost a game of whist.” “Tamina bother, pet. lam employed now by three parties, not one of which knows that I am employed by the other, and I can’t be true to all, My study just now is, whether to be honest, and throw up the cards for all but one, or to keep on, and take pay from ail. What would you do, if you were me?’ s ‘*- Just what a strong mind and Jong experience told me was best, my hubby. You have the one,,and have had the other. Why should you ask me abontit, who only am happy in possessing your love, and never interfere with your business |”? “True, pet. ButI have asked your advice before now, and when you gaveit, 1 universally found it good! In the cases I am thinking of, if 1 am true to one employer, I shall I believe do a very great good, and foil the other employers who are villains |” “Then I think your heart would prompt you what to do, for you have a good heart my husband !”" ‘* A man in my business has no right to have a heart, pet. I have todo things which make my heart bleed. Only last month, you remember, I discovered and urrested young Cardigan, the defaulter !’’ ' “ Yes.’ “That young man, duped and ruined by gamblers, led on step by step, until to save himself from utter ruin he made false entries in his books, would have escaped to another Janda but for me. Through the love of his widowed mother and his only sister, a young girl as fair as you, my sweet wife, I traced him to his place of concealment, where he was waiting a chance to go abroad. With that grey-haired mother kneeling before me—with that young sister clasping my knees, praying me to save him from dis- grace, and them from misery, akin to death, I was forced by duty to arrest him. e is now condemned to prison tor ten long years, and before that time ends mother and sister will die of broken hearts! Oh how my heart strug- gled with duty. I cared not for the reward I was to have for his arrest. But lam asworn officer, and in a crimi- pal case I must not break my oath. You, pet, know not the tenth part I go through with.. At this. moment I know that which would destroy the wedded bliss which exists in a little household as happy as ours. I am employed to chasing a handsome, strong, and correct tumepiece will find the | find out and to reveal that which will doit. Yet I hes- elegant Watch bearing the trade-mark of “LADY ELGIN,” | itate, for my oath in this case, does not make if. impera- to be all. that they desire. Tagua ef Mite rior the | tive "There is no criminal complai t, out. hold LADY ELGIN, NO MOVEMEN'S RETAILED BY THE COM- ? al 7 oe 9 C Lt hold no war- PANY. Business Office and Salesroom National Watch Company, | rant, and only. beside those involved, know of the facts. ; % But J will not worry-you with the details of my busi- An illustrated pamphlet entitled. “Making Watches by Ma- | happiness with you, and in our jov I iorget all the cares =. by the late A. D. Richardson, sent tree on application. w22-2 d $20 A DAY toMALE & FEMALE Agents fo introduce the BUCKEYE $20 SHUTTLE SEWING MACHINES. Stitch alike on_both sides, and is the only LI- CENSED SHUTTLE MACHINE sold in the United States for less than $40. All others are infringements, and the seller and the user are liable to prosecution and imprisonment. OutFit FREF. Address W. A. HENDERSON & CO, Cleveland, O w-lyr HINKLEY KNITTING MACHINE, The wonder of the Age—with single, eye-pointed Needle. Sim ple, Cheap, Reliable—for Family Use” Agents wanted every- where to introduce them. Address _ HINKLEY KNITTING MACHINE CO., Bath, Me,, wl213t Or 176 Broadway, New York. , y yy 7 HOW TO GET PATENTS IS FULLY EXPLAINED in a Pamphlet of 108 pages just issued by MUNN & CO., 37 Park Row, New York. é SENT FREE. MUNN & CO., 37 Park Row, New York, (25 YEARS’ EXPERIENCE), have taken ore Patents and examined fore ventions, than any other agency. Send sketch and description for opin- PATENTS.— ion. NO CHARGE. w22-4t MPLOYMENT —$200 a month with Stencil Dies. Samples free. S. M. SPENCER & CO., Brattleboro, Vt. wil3-13t. A Pe eA TT OORr FF E'RerH Horace Waters, 481 Broadway. will dispose of ONE HUNDRED PIANOS. MELODEONS, and OreANs of six first-class makers, AT EXTREMELY LOW PRICES. FOR CASH. DURING THIS MONTH) or will take from $5 to $20 monthly until paid. the same to let, and rent money applied if purchased... i i w7 17 RUNKENNESS |—The Most HOPELESS Cases Cured. Send stamp for evidente . © BEERS, M. D., Boston, Mass. w22-4t A DAY!—40 new articles for Agents. Samples sent free. 25 * HB SHAW Alien Men” ROYAL HAVANA LOTTERY. $390,000 in Gold drawn every 17 days. Prizes cashed and infor- mationfurnished. Highest rates paid for doubloons and al! kinds of gold and silver TAYLOR & CO., Bankers, 16 Wali St., N. Y. w7-tf. a The Largest : AND Most Beautiful Plate of Fashions EVER PUBLISHED. MME. DEMOREST’S MAMMOTH BULLETIN OF FASHION, FOR THE SPRING AND SUMMER 1870, Hullo’ “ Hoo ¥ wr Ho : _. BOOK OF DESCRIPTIONS, Bh NOW READY, Contains over 60 figures of the best designs, and comprises more information on Fashions than could be obtained for one hun- dred dollars spent in any other way. Price—Plain, $1; on Heavy Plate Paper and Tinted, $150; or. Elegantly Colored, $2; either, with 10 fullsize Cut Patterns worn by the Principal Figures, 50 cents extra, mailed free on receipt of price. The Book of, Descriptions which accompanies the Bulletin, entitled ‘What to Wear and How to Make It,’’ furnishes full and accurate descriptions of the Latest Designs; also Instruc- tions on Dress-Making, and useful and valuable information on Materials, Trimmings, all the various styles of Toilets, Laces, Millinery Coiffure’, and everything new and desirable con- e nected with Ladiés’.and Children’s Dress for the Spring and |, Summer of 1870. Sold separately, price 15 cents; mailed free. Address MME. DEMOREST, w2t-it 838 Broadway, N. Y. TVORCES LEGALLY OBLAINED IN DIFFER- ent States, Desertions, &c., sufficient cause. No publicity. No charge until obtained. Address M. HOUSE, 78 Nassau st w5l-l3leow ‘ Cloverine Maintains its pre-eminence on the Ladies’ Toilet Tables, over all other cleansers, for REMOVING DIRT AND GREASE from Gloves, Silks, Satins, Velvets, ete. In bottles, at 18 and 25 cents, by all Druggists. w25-4¢ | and toils which I hope will enable me one of these days to retire and to enjoy with you that quiet bliss which my heart longs for.” { “Heaven speed the day, my dear husband. I wish to o qen free from the care which too often shadows your row |? yak Stl Summerdown made no reply, but sat thoughtful a little while and then rising, said: ‘‘T bave made up pe mind, my pet. I will not play into the hands ofa ian, but will do what my heart tells me 1s right, and trust to Providence for a reward.” “ Dear husband, Providence will reward those who do right. That there 1s a great, and eternal hereafter, in which the just will be justified, and the pure glorified, we cannot doubt. But even hereon earth, good acts meet witb frequent recompense, of this 1 am certain. He who) gives to the poor, has his joy in the brightening of the dim eye, in the sweet voice of his own conscience, in the sacred words, ‘inasmuch as ye have given to these who were needy, even so have you given unto Me.’ ” ** You donot quote the words correctly, my pet, though you have the idea.” , “No matter, then, my dear husband, since from m words you recognise my idea. Will you be out late to- night?” “J hope not—yet I cannot tell. 1t is possible that I may have to go afew miies from the city. IfI do it may be early—in the morning—when I return.” “J hope you are ‘not going where there is personal danger ?”’ “No, my sweet little wife—the duty which calls me out isa bit of discovery, not ofarrest. So have no fears—if I am notin by eleven, goto bed and dream of one who loves you faithfully.”’ ; “Bless you, my noble husband—it seems as if I loved you more and more each day.”’ CHAPTER XLIX. “What do you now think, my daughter—what do you now think of his innocence?” cried Mrs. Marston, trium- phantly, as with Mr. Eldad Grump in her company, she entered the sitting room, where Anna, pale, listless, thin in form, and so sad-eyed, so wan in features, was seated. “Here is your decree of divorce, obtained on evidence which he did not even attempt to contravert.”’ “That is no proof to me that the evidence is true. Ed- gar Mansfield, teo proud to try to retain one who has seemed but too ready to yield him up, would scorn to ar- ray himself in court against a woman who sought her freedom. He would rather yield to every wrong, than ask me now to be his. Oh i would give the world were he yet mine—for in my utter loneliness I must die,” “Anna—this weakness will neverdo. We will travel, my cnild, and see if change and society will not benefit ou. ‘‘Mother—it will be only useless trouble to yon, Noth- ing can now lift me up out of the black pit of despair into which I have fallen. I have lost him, and slowiy, surely, my heart is breaking.” “If I might humbly suggest, fair lady ” “Suggest nothing, Mr. Grump. You have done your work, if my mother has paid your fee, you are nolong- er required. You have procured these papers, this decree whichis a death-warrant to my happiness. Be content with your work anditsreward. Ifthe divorce has been gained without perjury I am satisfled—if on the other hand one fearful wrong has been done to do another, then may Heaven’s bitterest curse rest on all who are concern- ed in the wrong.” * ‘ Even that hardened demon shuddered at the fierce tones which sprang out from her lips, and he scarcely made a single turn on bis pivot as be hurried from the room. rs. Marston went out with him, perhaps to’ apologize for the ee eee of her daughter, or perchance to settle the final account for his services,” {} Then, with that decree of divorce in her hand Anna stood—stood like a statue of marble for full fifteen minutes. beer him, by humanlaw. of those who come to woo. Free to forget that soul and body, heart and mind, I have been his, all his. Oh, Heaven’ what a mockery is life. Doth notlove come from thee? soul to soul, and heart to heart, making love holy and marlriage divine? What are the words of man that they may link and they may seperate? Oh, this ismockery— this és mockery. Perish the record which says he is no longer mine—I am no longer his! My breaking heart ab- hors the cruel falsehood.’ And fiercely she rent the decree in pieces, and cast it into the glowing grate before her. A servant entered a few moments later with a letter in his hand. With acry of wild joy, she snatched it from his grasp-—for she recognized but too well the bold, free characters of the superscription. NSO, John, go!’ she said. “I must read this letter alone.”’ : The servant withdrew, and she broke the seal, glancing but for an instant on the i ion of the spotless shield, which was his escutcheon. — Then, in a low, murmuring tone, slowly she read out these words: cteath ete eyen though forever lost to me, before I seek that far-off wilderness which is henceforth to be my home, now that the fiat of separation—which came from your lips, “This—this” she murmured at last, ‘sets me free from |_ 1 am free to again listen to the words’ Is not thy low whisper thrilling us with love, that links | eo lost to hope, blighted in heart, with a soul steeped in agony, I go out of the busy world to seek retirement where I can worship See and Nature’s God, unannoyed by the false sympathies of wor ings. “Hear SS: as I swear by the first fond vow which ‘eft my li —by that fond response uttered by you, echoed by the gentle breath of the autumnal winds and the sighing of the pure wa- ters—that never, in word or , have I been for one instant untrue to thee. Then, now, und forever idol of my heart, to thee and to Heaven alone dol yield allegiance. | ‘IT could not bend to battle with my slanderers for the posses- sion of one who would by her assent force me to that ignoble position. They have conqu —not me—not my soul’s purity —not my honor—but your will and your belief. Angel, I go tar from you. Soon swift rivers will rush between us, and great mountains lift their craggy heads between me and Bat, Anna, true now and true forever, I shall remain xu unhappy husband, : i EpGAR MANSFIELD.” — Every line was read, every wo ae uttered distinctly; then, with a low, moaning cry, she sank to the fioor, } ing the letter convulsively to her throbbing, almost t ing heart. She fell, gasping out his name, and the was unconscious. ‘ The servant who had brougnt the letter heard her fall, and hurried to inferm her mother, for he was not the same one who had acted as a spy for the gamblers. Mrs. Marston, who had just dismissed the lawyer, hur- ried to the assistance of her poor child; but, when she reached the room, Anna was once more on her feet, tot- tering toward her own chamber. “Mother, do not come near me till Isend for you. | wish to be alone,” was all she said. CHAPTER L. Mr. Summerdown sat in the frontroom of the second story of a Bleecker street boarding-house. There was another person in the room, and he rented that suite, liv- ing in a style which he had never known until recently, and which to him was kingly,so far was it abov2 the condition which scanty means had hitherto kept him in. This person was no other than our old friend, Mr. Screws, who, though now in a position to make Eldad Grump come down with all the-ymoney he wanted, and living luxuriously in consequence, stood in mortal fear of the detective -for the latter held the key of a dungeon in his hands, or held on his lips the words which would place him in one. : And Screws loved liberty. The thought of imprison- ment was as bad as the thought off death to him. “Whatis it that you want, Mr. Summerdown, please tell me? If it is money, I can get a preity big pile out of old Grump, especially if 1 tell him I want it for you.” “Fool! When J want money from him, or any other man, I want no go-between. I do my own financial busi- ness. You know secrets in ie an’s business which J must know!” ; “Of course, Mr. Summerdown—I know his secrets. He lets me know some and tries to hide others. But I know all. Ll have keys, duplicates to every draw and safe. I know so much, that if he knew I knew it, he would not let me live an hour.” “Well, Mr. Screws, I am glad you know so much, and as it must be a task to keep such terrible secrets alone, I am going to help you with your load.” “What do you mean, my good Mr. Summerdown?”’ “That, before we part to-night, you state to me, so that I can take it all down in my memorandum book, all that you. and your master knowsof the history of Horace Blachart, of his present plans and future hopes.” “But, my good Mr. Summerdown, if Il may humbly suggest ?’’ ; “You may suggest nothing, sir—nothing but to divulge all that Irequire of you regarding him. After that I have another plot to inquire into. Now I will have no prevari- cation—no concealment, for I know a great deal now. Were I ready to do it, I could release his two children fromthe horrible asylum in which he has placed them, you cooly Jooking on while they were abducted.” “Oh Lord, Mr. Summerdown, 1 do believe you know everything now !”” “Not quite all, Screws, lie you may try to tell me. beginning, and each poin papers connected with this rai of Eldad Grump.” - = “Will you hold me harmless for any and all things I’ve done, if Itellyouall?”? = ars “Of course. The State is never fool enough 'to injure its own evidence. Now go on, and hurry through, for I don’t want to be kept away from my home all night.” _ The old man hesitated a moment, and then related a story so strange, of utter heartlessness, of miserly’selfish- ness, of cold, calculating cruelty, that even while he opr down a rapid stenographic account of statement, e officer shuddered over and over again. It took a good while to get it all, but at last the story Was told, and the old nae ve asigh of zener when se om tae the ~ “An ere are papers to prove all this, in the posses- sion of Eldad Grump’?” asked Summerdown. -“Yes—but Blachart alone has the papers which relate to the great inheritance in Fngland. He never has trusted them withus.” ——. ; & Gon J3G “So far so S098. Now do you, or does Mr. Bl rt know anything of the missing brother, who was adopted by an aor on the mother’s side, and made heir to his roperty rat Seas aa No—I have héard nothing of that.” de “Then accident has put me before them all on one point. I Know more than either of the two leading vil- lains in this drama on one point of importance. And now to another point, not e with the other, yet it is in the same train. .you know about the recent divorce case of M Maysfield ?”” Sa “That it w la i3sit—done brown, as the Saying goes !”’ : “False evidence, I Suppose Ke “Every particle of it.” i “What was the object of those who procured this evi- dence? “To separate them out of revenge, I judge—his ruin at any rate was one object. Durant and Belphor were down on him, ang they never sipp re trifles when they go to work.” rs “Yes—they are mixed up in the other affair. Take it all in all, itis about as much of a muddle as I ever tried to look through. But I'll unravel it all before I’m done. Iam nearly ready to commence a work which will aston- ish more than one of the parties. One thing must be done at once. I must prevent the departure of one party who is about to leave the city—for he will be needed.” oaks humbly make an inguniry, Mr. Summerdown ?’’ “Make a thousand if you like, Screws, and I will an- swer Just what I deem proper—no more. Jn fact, at pre- sent, as I have gained most of my lacking points, and am ready to lay down my course for work, | have no time to answer questions. So I’llleave you here to the comforts with which you have so sensibly surrounded yourself in your old age, and go to my rooms, where a little bit of gentle womanity pouts at myabsence. Bye, bye, Screws— for your own sake, no hint of this interview will be drop- ed.”? hes “Ofcourse not, sir—of course not.”’ oe CHAPTER LI. Mr. Muggins, dressed betygend looking better than in his two former visits, called on Edgar Mansfield at his rooms in the Everett, finding the colonel busied in mak- ing final preparations for leaving the city. His pale face, and sunken eyes, both told that the colo- nel was suffering much mental agony. But no murmur left his lips, His iron will controlled all outward expres- sion of his misery. ; “Colonel, when you’ve heard what I’ve got tosay, you'll stop packing up—I know you will,’ said Mr. Muggins. “You were kind to me when I did not deserve kindness, but you will not be sorry forit. Even a dog ar cme serve the hand that feeds him. And you'll be wanted, before long, by one whom you wouid not see harmed for the sake of saving your own life. I’ve been at work for you, and if I could nave been alittle quicker about it, that divorce would never have been granted. For 1l’ve found the woman that they hired toswear she was married to, you in Mexico, and though she has been in Cuba, she never was in Mexico in her life.” “It matters not. 1 knew the divorce was obtaind through perjury, but the application was enough, with- out any other proce toforever separate me from the woman to whomI was devoted. I wish to hear no more of the matter, Mr. Mu s. It is all. over, and I soon shall be far away fromthe scenes of much happi- ness and yet greater sorrow.” y dud “Colonel Mansfield, you are no coward.” “7 hope not, Mr. Muggins.’” ane anes more the eye of the colonel flashed with its J 5 ee ‘you leave, knowing all that I now will tell you, you will not deserve the name of a brave, true man! Excuse me, colonel, you’ll not be mad with me when you have heardalilhave to tell you. Your late wife never has doubted you—does not now, nd if you wentaway she would die of a broken heart. Tuat is, if those who work- ed to bring about this cruel separation didn’t force her to commit suicide by their inferpal villiany.” “Explain, Mr. ns—for, aS you may see, I have / . tod d want to get through with it.” ell, sir—in the first place this whole divorce business. enough to detect you in any £0 on, commencing at the Scality informing me what lity are in the possession was got up, paid for, and carried through by Frank Bel- |’ -phor, who has w rep a the lady whom you mar- | Tied, Even now, re and scorned by her, heis plan- ning to abduct her, 9 compromise her before the world, that she will be to yield to his will, and, darry him, togive hima hold on her property.” “The mhuman wretch.” . ; : “I can expose all his past and present plans, and thwart ‘his future intentions, but not alone. You, sir, must help -‘me,, For her sake—to-save her so much misery, I know you will consent to defer your departure.” “Yes,” said the colonel with a sigh. “Though she is lost to me, I will al be ready to save her from. grief or trouble. I will hear all that you have to say now, Mr. -Muggins, for I believe you are actuated by good motives in your revelations.” “fam, sir, if gratitude for unexpected and undeserved kindness is a good motive. Fora long time I have been under the pay of these gamblers as a capper or roper-in. They have treated meas well as 1 deserved, for it is a dog’s business, and they have kicked while they fed me, figuratively speaking: Thus, by dint: of close watching, and having in my miserable attic room’a peep-hole and place where I can listen to the talk going on below be- tween Durant. ana his partner, Belphor, I have got,hold of all. They have hadaspyin the Marston mansion, from the day of your marriage to the present hour. Noth-. ing goes on there without their knowing of it, and through this spy they haye had letters’sent and apparent proof of your untruth furnished to Mrs. Marston and jer, daughter. Through him, plans to abduct your lady, and to place her wholly in the power of Belphor, are now forming!’ ? ‘hy G@) Oo eece ; ) of his plans for- that purpose is culminated!’ sa fie : wig VP, not mine—is ea fulfilled, in justice to myself, I must make one declaration. Take it as from the lips of a dying man—for, fe «? Muggins—go on.” ‘colonel, sternly. “Go on, Mr. | “¥ vid ¥ “He shall die before: it ait re : } : musery. ‘as stated in the cert: “There has been a woman, or rather a young gir! con- nected with them in this work, but she and a brother of hers has disappeared most unaccountadly, and they are troubled to know where sheis. They have a detective employed to find her, but he bas done nothing as yet.” “Mr. Summierdown wishes to see Colonel Mansfield,” Said a servant, entering the room with a.card. ; “Thatis the very man. I'll bet he meant to betray their plans—or what he knows of them,’’ said Muggins. “For he didn’t seem to like their villainy a ‘bit. saw that'in his looks, forIl watcned’ him close while they were talking.” : The servant was directed to invite Mr. Sammerdown to the presence of the colonel, and he was soon seated. I see in your hand makes known my at officer. “In the course of work- iter, I have become cognisant of , and I deemed it. my duty to vn t¢ how you had been victimised. pm orandum you will find a detailed ac- plot which ngs Ht aah ae he your separa- tion and divorce, and wh becomes necessary, I can produce the living witnesses thatare named in the mem. orandum, who must and--shall prove the perjury which has brought it all about.’ © soe oe “My good Mr. Summerdown;-you have taken unneces- sary trouble. I knew all along that: only perjury could procure the divorce, but the application was all that was required to make pur. eepenaion from the lady final. I have too much pride in my nature to wish to remain ina connection which seemed by the course taken to be un- desirable.” ; “I think, colonel, you do injustice to your estimable lady. I do not believe she ever desired this divorce.” “Had she not, it coulda not have been applied for.” “Yes, sir. It was urged on by others. That I know. But all that I ask now, is, that you read my memoran- dum. When you need me, asI foresee you will, send for me to the address at the bottom of the statement.”’ ‘“T will, Mr. Summerdown. What is your fee for this matter, sir ?’? “Nothing, Colonel Mansfield—nothing. Allow one of my occupation, who gets well paid, but too often for do- ing whatisin reality morally wrong, have the satisfac- tion of doing a right oncein a long while without re- compense.”’ “Well, sir, at least accept my thanks.” **} cannot refuse them, sir, but will strive still further to deserve them,” _ CHAPTER LII. “Are you a man ?? This question was asked by Miriam Volski, whose dark eyes flashed wildly while she spoke, her. graceful form actually quivering with an excitement whicn she did not strive to suppress. Tse person whom she addressed was. Doctor Merle, who, having entered the small, strong room in which she was confined, had directed the attendant who came with him to lock the door outside, and remain within call, until summoned to open it again. The doctor smiled, as only such a man can smile. cold, yet glittering with subtie light, seemed his face. “Do I not look like a man?’ he asked, quietly, meeting her fiery glance unmoved. “If youlook likeone, why not actas aman should? Why am I confined here, in a place evidently set apart for maniacs? Am JI not sane?” “Not very.”? : “Oh, Heaven aid me, or I shall become insane! Answer my question—why am I here?” 2a i “Because your lawful guardian chooses to place you ere. “My lawful guardian? I have none. be my Own mistress.” “Permit me to state that the certificale which makes your confinement necessary shows a different fact. You and your brother are minors—in fact, you look it, without the necessity of glancing at the certificate.” “Then Horace Blachart places us here as his own chil- dren ?? ay “He Geese et eee ' “Good! That will go for something when Iam released from his clutches and your custody. You need not smile, sir, for this release will soon be effected. I have friends who will ne: ft Sees till I am free.” “Itisa hat there is not the slightest danger of their fin out where youare. And even if they did, to secgy on out my consent would be an impossibility.” ie Pa see. But, sir, 1 have another question to ask you. - as that which prompted me to ask if you were am * a Iey Iam of an ageto ” he » en, fori have not much time to spare. I have ma y alls like this to make.” “There is another prisoner here, who is confined be- cause Horace Blachart wishes it and pays for it?’ ‘Yes—your brother.” . “Yet another, doctor—yet ‘another. A woman, once young, happy, and beautiful, whose great error in life was that of loying the wretch who has made her life a misery, I mean my mother. She is here!” “You astonish me with the extent of your knowledge,” said the doctor, in a tone of sarcasm. “If you think so, you should be well contented to remain in her vicinity.” “T would be—yes, I would be content to be a prisoner here, if I can be confined with her—where I may see and eak to her, and comfort her.” tates ag “You really believe that your mother lives, and is con- fined here ?”” f : “I do—I do!” : cs “Tnen I need no better proof to satisfy me that you are, ifiente, insane. You must be kept very quiet, not becoming excited, and in time you may recover. ! . ' “Monster! Wretch! Inhuman fiend!” “There, there—I told you not Sauberten, excited. I should dislike to be forced to use severity toward so fair acreature, A straight-jacket would be ve able, and chains are not agreeable, when | and very heavy.” ie “I willbe quiet, doctor. I do not wish to make you angry. But oh, in mercy, do listen tome! If money has uncomfort- been used to place me here, more can be got for my re- lease. There is one who can buy Horace Blachart over and over again, who will pay any sum if I am placed in freedom and safevy by his side. Oh, doctor, believe me, this is no idle boast!” =~ “Perhaps not. How may I know that it is not?” “By carrying a note from me to a certain address. Go in person and see for yourself the man to whom I write, and he will satisfy your most avaricious desire. Will you take the note?” “T will if it is left open and its contents please me.” “Then get me materials to write—ah, hear that voice— it thrills me to the heart. Who is that lady that sings so sadly, and yet breathes out such entrancing melody ?’’ “A patient whose case is hopeless!’ said the doctor, carelessly. ‘I will have paper and ink passed in:and you can write! Iwill now leave you, with only one caution. “Be quiet—excitement will only injure you.” He rose, signalled to the attendant outside, and passed out as tne door was unlocked. A few moments later, paper, pen and ink was handed in to the unhappy girl, and she prepared a letter for her uncle, telling hum only that she was confined by order of Horace Blachart, and if money would effect her release, she prayed him to useit, Nota word about the place— not a word about the mother whom she believed to be under the same roof—not a word regarding her treat- ment did she write, fearing that it might prevent the doc- tor from taking or sending the note to its destination. (To be Continued.) Out of the Dark. CHAPTER XX. Their patience was not long taxed. While the weeping wife bent over the form of the husband, who had so nearly left her a widow, while aside, in alow tone, Mr. Merritt was making explanations to Mr. Pendleton, who, at last, began to see mat- ters in their true hght, two more officers arrived, each having a = in charge, securely ironed. ne, bold and defiant, conscious of having friends in power who would shie!d him, no matter what he had done, was Sel- den, the gambler. The otver, pale from suffering as well as from terror, for his terrible chastisement, which had cut him almost to the bone— with not enough familiarity with crime to utterly harden him, hardly able to stand, supported by the officer who held him, was Altred Neville. . . ; “Why are we brought here?” cried Selden, angrily. “This 1s no court! Ill make youw officers sweat for this!” ‘Devil! you were brought here at my request, that you might see how utterly your vile plot to ruin and rob that young man has failedl That you, villain,could look once more, before a dungeon holds you, on the.face of that pure sister, whose ear you dared to pollute with unholy words—on that mother, whom without remorse, you would by a double crime, toward son and daughter, have sent in sorrow to her grave! 1 know all—even to the false deals, the forged checks, everythmg in your plot.” “The devil helped you!” 401 .¥ “No, his Conqueror helped me! It is enough that you are foiled at every point, and that there ..is lenty of evidence to send you where you threatened to send Mr. Westcott.” aie you ten to one, any moment you dare, Im free ina wee : 4 The minister did not reply to the gambler, but turned to the lesser villain of the two. a “You were brought here, Alfred Neville, face to face with the ‘man, whom in mean malice, you sought to rnin, to learn that ‘you had ea failed—tace to face with the wife whom you so grossly insulted, and who upon herself nobly took the task of instant punishment. Your has been tortured, but no com- parison can be made between the smarting of the body and the agony of the mind. Yearsof continement, I hope, are before you, because you justly rve them. When they are passed, ead ye returh to the world, it isto be hoped that suffering and “re ion will have made you a better man.” Alfred Neville wept—not with remorse or sorrow, but with shame and mortification... He wept that he was defeated. He ‘wept because the prospect of more punishment was before him. “Officers, you will now please remove these preoner For- mal complaints are entered against each, and they will be pro- oe to the uttermost extent that law and justice will per- mit. “Twenty to one’ I’m /freé to hear you preach salvation to sin- hers next Sunday!’ cried Selden, as he was led out. : “You may be free te hear me ony that Christ was merciful, even to the thief, aud that should give you hope,” said Mr. Mer- ritt; “but 1 doubt your finding Justice so lenient this time.” And now only the two families and that noble missionary of the temperance cause were inthe room. | ee “Our young friend here has escaped a ‘great peril. He was enveloped in darkness, he was surrounded by shadows, but he is coming put into the hig . Ob, if this iesson but teaches him where to look for, rues ; it will be indeed a blessing. Let us thank God tor his escape.” —' ‘ ‘They knelt, all ia the ‘room, but the reclining invalid, and in atone which thrilled every ear: wi h the eloquence of inspira- fon the minister, prayed. F e thanked the Father for all His mercies, and especially for that mercy, which, confounding the machinations of bad men, had saved the young friend there on his sick bed from impend- 1g ruin—a ruin which would have involved loved ones in grief. fe prayed tbat he might be strengthened against every temp- tation. . That.especiaily might he. : made Bisons against drink, that vast fountain-head of vice and of folly—o crime and of £514 de of iron That he might be led to renew his sacred obligations of Tem- perance. That he, and the grey-haired father and the yous wife, might, for their own sakes and the sakes of others, le to join with the organized army.of men and women who were battling with Humanity’s direst foe. He prayed that Heaven's brightsmile should rest on them all, dispelling darkness, giving warmth to their souls and strength to their hearts; and at last might they all’ meet beyond Death’s River, in the Happy Land. Talat Tears gicged in every eye. Etigene was sobbing, and even Mr. Pendieton was almost choked with emotion. “Will you renew your Temperance: pledge, my’ dear young pe ?* asked Mr. Merritt, taking a pledge-book from his poc- et. , ; ‘eu ie sir; and with the help of God I will keep it!” replied ugene. “T, too, will sign it!” cried Mr. Pendleton, unsolicited. “Thave seen enough of the evilinfluence even of wine,to make me determine henceforth to enlist under the banner of Total Ab- stinence !”” ° “Thapvk Heaven for this speedy answer to our prayer!’ mur- mured the man who is ever happiest when doing most good. Not only did they, Mr. Pendleton and his son-in-law, then Dlace their names to the pledge, but they also authorized Mr. Merritt to bas ; n tor immediate initiation into his order. This rele C ost of all. For he knew how snch a con- nection confirm and support them in their good resolu- tions. Ho ted, fraternal sympathy would bind their souls to the holy cause which they had embraced. How in the week- ly meeting of the Division, and in visiting other Divisions, they would find. a new pleasure, a fi'lmgup.of time, which could not how go to waste. s That was a happy group when he bade them a temporary farewell. a CHAPTER XXI. Not in. the usual court room where the wretched inebriate is dragged. who victimized by poisoned rum is found reeling along the pavement, or picked up stupified from the. gutter—not where the half starved beggar, whose crime is his poverty, sits in his rags and shivers, not where the petty thief scowlsin the prisoners’ deck, were the gamblers, Seiden and the fashionable Alfred Neville, arraigned, afier arrest. It is true they had been locked up for the night. but they had an extra room, with cards, wine, and food from one oi the first restaurants. They were gentlemen, you see, and even if gentle- men do commit little indiscretions, such as forgery or murder, it must not be forgotten that they belong to the upper-crust of Humanity’s pie. : : And so, these gentlemen had a private room for their examina- tion. Even the reporters were excluded, least something pre- judicial to such respectable men should getinthe papers. It ‘was almost wreng that the complainant, the good true man who had foiled the vile.conspiracy should be allowed’to press the matter. Bold in the right, determined to carry through that which he bad undertaken. he did appear—did press the prosecution, and when he saw that the magistrate wished to make the case ap- pear less grave than itseemed to him, he demanded that these men should be held in heavy bail in order that the case should be carried before the Grand Jury. Nothing but a knowledge of his influence among the good and the fast-growing power of those orders, which united could do much, that now they, do not, cannot do, would have caused the result which occurred. For in spite of an eloquent appeal from Selden’s counsel to dismiss the case as unworuy of magisierial notice—as being only urged on by a tanatic for fanatical rea- sons, the Justice decided to hold the prisonersto bail, and send the papers up, as desired by’Mr. Merritt. d The magistrate knew that bail would be forthcoming, and that speedily. Had he made it ten times as much a gambler would not have been allowed to languish in prison ‘for want of good bond. men. : 4 So even while the minister was_stepping from the portals of the Tombs to walk down to his office in Nassau Street, to meet the worthy Grand Scribe, and sign some new charters, the gamb- ler, free «us he ee gre ; a seeped ae a carriage, while its door was held open by his liveried servant. i Used, and useful no more, Selden had left Alfred Neville to et bail for himself, or to wait in his cell for the trial which Mr. Merritt, aided by Eugene Westcott and Mr. Pendleton was de- termined to bring on. Such is usually the reward duped confederates receive from their masters in crime. : ; CHAPTER XXII. na Once more the hall of dear old Harmony was crowded—so full that there was scarce standing room. : His face all aglow with happiness, his eyes liquid with living joy, Steven Merritt was again in the chair. And to honor the event, the initiation about to proceed, every chair was filled by an officer of the Grand or the Nationa! Division. The chair of the P. W. P. was. by the untiring, heroic Stearns—as chap- lain, the noble Stryker officiated—as worihy associate, the true- est of the true, Bro. Diehl, who has lifted the ie his native Jand and the temperance banner among the clouds which wrap Shasta’s snow crowned peak—each chair and post was worthily, nobly occupied. : A;:ain, thrilled by fairy fingers the organ notes were heard the giad song of welcome was sung, and the old merchant an his happy daughter and Eugene Westcott, came in, OUT OF THE DARK. Yes, to the chant of almost a thousand glad voices, they marched along the new road, their hearts leaping with gladness as they moved alvung. ed Amid a deep silence they took the solemn obligation. And as they breathed vowsso holy, they prayed in their hearts for strength to keep them. SS Never was a ceremony made more impressive. Each officer ‘who had a charge to give was a veteran inthe work. He had no need to glance at a ritual to know what tosay. Deep in his heart each one held his lesson and from that heart each word came with an import the hearer never.could forget. It was over. in the Circle of unity, hand in hand stood the vast assembiage, The closing song was sung and eyes sparkled liquid and bright with Br light—the light of honor, happi- ness,truth and enperance, ledged to Love, Purity and Fidelity, the noble army of Sons and Daughters rejoiced in the addition totheirranks. | - iif : 0 With interest, after the usual intermission, Mr. Pendleton and Eugene Westcott listened to the business matters brought up. They saw that the order which they had joined was organised for work. That it had a financial as well as moral basis. That it had ahigh and holy aim before it, and men and women in il who never fergot that aim. ; / When business was conciuded, then camethe hour to be de- voted to social enjoyment. Members could now speak for the good of the Order. : gi a fa On this evening it was well improved. Full of happiness to see the work going on, Mr. Merritt spoke with redoubled eloquen Bungay, the peet and scholar, spoke from 4 heart full of zeal. Greeley, the white-haired philcsopher, rorgetting editorial cares and political anxieties, gave his testimony to the Faith. The noble Dodge, more proud of the gocd that he could do with it, than of the fortune he had amassed, spoke of the work al- ready to do and of the harvest yet waiting the labor of their hearts and minds. ve The venerable Jewett, a warrior life-long, wedded to the cause, in mingled pathos and humor, chained the audience to his mighty will And woman, fair woman with her power of song, chimed in to make the hours pass so lightly, so brightly, that it was mid- night ’ere cn to know it. -hen amid the hushed silence of the reverent throng, the good, the gifted, the zealous Cuyler asked God for His blessings, His continuing help, asthey sought their homes. ! Nee CHAPTER XXIII. | “Indicted ! Thisis one thing, but the trialis another! They cannot geta jury whichI cannot buy! If they do, and I am found guilty, my counsel will a; peal, and then money will have another chance! That infernal puppy, Alf. Neville, has turned State’s evidence! Thatis bad. It I hadn't left him to row hisown boat the coward might have stuck it out all right! But kecan’t hurtme! I'll have hw evidence impeached by twenty witnesses, no matter what he swears! Let them do their worst. The only thing that.bothers me is the persistency with which that man Merrltt urges on this trial. We has forced itfrom the start, and there is no time left to have it die out, or fix up the case. My counsel has tried to stave it off for an- other term, but his efforts are vain. Well, another week will de- cide itone way or the other. And then, Mr. Merritt, look out! Plisee whether your eloth will protect you! As for Mr. Eu- gene Westcott, 1’ll teach him through his prettysister—. Weil. what is wanting now ?” oes 4 Mr. Selden wasinterrupted in his soliloquy by a servant, who entered his private sitting-room, causing him to close with the exclamation which I have italicized. _ “Miss Medora is down stairs, and wishes to see you,” said the servant. “Yell her Iam busy, and cannotsee her. The cursed girl is annoying me to death! lt was letter afterletter, till I got tired of answering them, and now she comes in person. Teli herI will not see her now.” ; y “But she insists, sir; she isin the public parlor, and will not 30 away.” ‘ : Tell her to go to the old boy!” : ! “T believe I am in Ais presence now, Samuel Selden!” And the woman who spoke pushed by the servant, and with folded arms and steady gaze stood before Seiden. She was very, very beautiful; but it was not the beauty which the good may contemplate with pleasure. It was too wild, too dark, too ae, too passionate. “You would deny me admittance—refuse to hear her speak whose very soul yousewon—then plunged it down, down to per- dition? Youfound me pure asa dew-drop—now Iam so foul that I loathe myself!” “Medora, you are mad !”? “Yes, Samuel Selden, I am mad; and you—you have made me Fr 0 “Well, don’t plague me now, Medora. I have a good deal of trouble on my mind just pow.”’ “So have I. One question—are you ready to marry me?” “No! Once and for all—no /” “When will you be ready?” “Never !—you tool, never !” . : “Then, together this hour we go where there is no marriage, or no giving inmarriage |” she shrieked. Then, before he could divine her meaning, before even the servant could spring forward to interrupt her, the woman drew a dagger, and buried it first tothe hilt in the heart of the gambler, then as deep in herown! | It wasfeariul! Two souls, in an instant, out of the darkness of sin into-the light ot judgment! Butit was! _ My story is done, . With a great mora: purpose in view, it has been laid before the thinking people of America. Upon its success depends much so far as regards the future use of my pen. If this effort to do good is so received, that my publishers are encouraged,! shall rejoice to devote more labor in ‘his field, and less in that of the wild adventure where 1 have won what 1 have of popularity. THE END. (We will shortly commence the publication of another Tem- perance Story, entitled “The Serpent’s Cojl,” by Ned Buntline; and one fromthe pen of Hannah Hopper, entitled “Redeemed by Love; or, The Drunkard’s Daughter.” —_—————_>-0+___— Alpacas. On comparison of similar qualities, we have found the Buffalo Brand black alpacas mae of finer wool, purer in color, and cheaper than aby other alpacas, for which reason we regard them as the best in market. Another very beautiful fabric, second only to silk, is the Beaver Mohair, which is remarkably lustrous and silky in ap- pearance, and of a rich shade of fast black. Either will make you an elegant street suit. You can be sure of the brands by observing that a ticket is attached to each piece. being a picture of the respective animals from which they are named. —_—_—_—__ >< A BRILLIANT CONCERT. The Patti concert, at Steinway Hall, on the evening of April.6th, was a truly brilliant one. The audience was very large, and was composed of the: elite of the city. Miss Carlotta Patti was never in better voice, and her vocalization elicited the most enthusiastic applause. She was ably assisted, vocally and instrumentally, by such artists as Hermanns, Squires, Ritter, and Sarasate, the performance of each and allaffording unalloyed gratifica- tion to all present. The orchestra, conducted by Mr. G. W. Colby, was efficient and grand.’ We predict for Miss Patti, in South America, whither she will proceed from New York, unbounded success, A BE OS LOGE: AP ESTEE SOM ELS Ms CARI «0 ARETE VERE SP ee pr - Or A { SOAS ; A y W ; k y er a or e ps oY .. “re Se ac BRA. £5) 7 om 7 Spake aS Sm kh, May 5, 1870. Ore New Yor eee The Terms to Subscribers: One Vear—single Copy ..,...-.++-+-+ $y hia BADE -Three Dollars. «~~ Bour copies ($2 50 each). ..:.-:+:+:++-Ten Dollars, Bight copies .......ssssecssseeee. Twenty Dollars. Those sending $20 for a club of Eight, all sent at one time, will be entitled to acopy Frere. Getters-up of clubs can after- ward add singie copies at $2 50 each. All Letters must be directed to STREET & SMITH, Box 4896, N.Y. “ “a Oflice 55 Fuiton Street. BURLINGAME VEXED WITH A BORE. Sometime in the winter of 1860, the writer of this articlo met Mr. Burlingame in Washington. It was at the Na- tional Hotel, and he had just come down from the Capi- tol, at the close of the afternoon session, in company with a number of Congressmen. We had been boys together, in the city of Detroit; had belonged to the same debating society, where great questions of church and state were periled and saved once a week, up-stairs, in the old Acad- emy. Nay, more—we had once taken a Bible out into the woods, and there solemnly sworn each other, that before a certain, and not very distant date, we would meet as Representatives in Congress. We had met but once since those boy-days, and then but for a moment, until that meeting in the office of the National Hotel. The vow had been kept and realized by one of the boys, while the other had taken quite another path, It was evident, at the first instant of meeting, that the * Congressman had forgotten the face of his former ac- quaintance. So the latter resolved upon a little farce, in which he would take that character so well known in Washington as a professional bore, and force Mr. Burlin- game to play the Congressman’s part of victim, while the strangers in the company should be audience. Assuming a very humble look and tone, we approached the unsuspecting victim, and the play began. Bore: “Is this the honorable member from Massachu- sets ?” “My name is Burlingame,’’ was the reply. Bore, with marked expression of meekness and delight: “This is the Honorable Mr, Burlingame !”? Burlingame, provoked, determined te snub the fellow; second thought, resolves to see what will come of it, and again replies: “My name is Burlingame !” 1 Bore: ‘‘Could I see the honorable member aside on special business ?”? Burlingame, fearing a siege, takes out his watch, say- ing: “I am engaged, sir; but I will see you for a moment.” Bore does net see the impatieat gestures—beres never do—but immediately assumes the attitude of perfect ease, and begins with: “Where might the honorable. member have spent his boyhood ?* (No doubt gat hering material for a biography.) The friends of Mr. B. have gathered as near as courtesy will allow, in order to watch the process of boring, and its eifect upon the victim. ‘ Burlingame, with solemn and sarcastic emphasis: ‘Michigan, sir! Detroit! In the State of Michigan!’ Very fine side scene at thismoment—the victim turning toward the group of happy listeners with an expression of countenance distinctly asking: ‘Is he crazy? Is he a fool? What is he at? Bore instantly recalls his attention with another turn of the inquisitorial auger. “In what year might the honorable member have lived in Detroit?” “From 1836 to 1842,’’ was the reply. Bore: “What might. the population of Detroit, have been in those years ?’’ : ; (He is not after biographical facts, but he is some hired gatherer of statistics of population. Some Western Con- gressman is to make a speech.) The honorahle member gives the figures as near as pos- | sible.. Bore proceeds: “Had not the honorable member a friend—relative, if my memory Serves me—whose name was . who lived in Detroit in the days of the honorable member’s boyhood? 1 hope he is still living, and that his health is very good!’ ' ® That turn of the auger touched the quiek, for Burlin- game could not endure the man named. He used to say that ie lay awake nights to hate him. The reply was in- stant*and sharp: “[ know nothing about him. Have not heard from him for years.”’ “Was the honorable member acquainted with business firms in his day in Detroit?’ resumed the persistent bore. It was too much. “I studied law,” said Mr. Burlingame, ‘‘and am unac- quainted with the business firms of Detroit; but I would like, sir, to be acquainted with your purpose in question- ing me in this way. What are you after, and why don’t you get at it?” The farce was assuming a tragical character in the ap- pearance of the indignant Congressman, and this so mag- nifled..the comedy in the sight of the actor who played the part‘of Bore, that it was with the greatest difficulty he kept his countenance, as he added: “There was a firm—I do not know what kind of busi- ness it did transact. There was a number of partuers, of whieu L believe the honorable member was one; and there Was a Certain , Who once took an oath on the Bible. with the forest for a sanctuary and a stump for an altar, that——”’ The sentence was not finished. The vail had dropped, and, amid roars of laughter, the much-relieved and sur- prised Mr, Burlingame hurried the button-noling gentie- man upto the room of “the honorable member from “Massachusetts.” on Boussard, tho Pilot of Dieppe. On the night of the 31st of August, 1777, in a mest tre- mendous storm, a vessel attempted to ran into the har- bor of Dieppe. Boussard, the pilot, who was missing when the tempest raged, was on the pier; and seeing that the captain of the ship made several false maneuvers, he ealied to him: with his speaking-trumpet. directing him what to do, and.stroye by gestures to render himself in- telligible. Owing tothe storm and the darkness, his etforts proved unavailing, and the ship struck about thirty fathoms above the pier. Everybody, except Bous- sard, gave up_the crew.for lost. Determined to save them, he was going to tie a rope round his body, in order to carry it to the ship; but his \wife and childrea and his friends sarrounded. and besought him, by all that was sacred, not, to rush uselessly into certain destruction. 3oussard; listened only, to the voice of humanity, re- proached his friends with their cowardice; and at length prevailed upon them to take home his wife and children. Having tied one end of the rope round him, and fastened the other to the pier, he plunged into the sea. Twenty times did the waves hurl him back upon the beach, and as often did he plung again.into the raging billows. A fresh wave flung him toward the ship and he disappear- ed beneath her. A general cry of horror proclaimed his destruction. But he had only dived to lay hold of a sailor whom the sea had swept™from the deck, and whom he contrived to. take senseless, onshore. A last attempt to reacn the ship proved successful; he climbed her side, aad conveyed to the erew the rope, by which ihey were drawn ashore one after another. ' But Boussard had not finished his glorious work. Ex- hausted with his exeruons, he was conducted by his friends to the nearest house. A gust.of wind wafted to the shore thecry of a passenger who had been left behind, and Boussard soon learned tnit there was another feilow- creature to save; he felt his strength renewed; and be- fore those about him were aware, he had rushed out of the house, plunged again into thesea, and was battling with the same aifficulties which he had before encountet- ed, and which he overcame with the lke succcess. The Passenger was Saved. . Kight outof ten passengers owed tleir lives to his courageous exertions. Louis XVI. made him a present of a thousand francs, and settled on hima pension of three hundred. _He was appointed keeper of tne pier lighthouse—an office which has ever since been , held by the Boussards, descending from father to son; aud not a year has passed unmarked by deeds unworthy of the first possessor. Close to the parapet of the pier at Dieppe is a pole, covered with copper, to which is fasten- e/a chain; here, in every storm since 1777, whether in the night or day, a Boussard has taken his station, cling- ing to the chain, and serving as a warning voice to those whom danger and the tempestous sea pursue into the harbor; and though the waves broke over him, though they wash him from the post of honor, rising trom their bosom, he would again give advice with his speaking trumpet, in defiance of the sea and all its efforts. Filty times has a Boussard risked his life to save the lives of others. , Napoleon ordered a house to be built for the Boussards close to the spot where the first ane his heroic thane be For more ne te a he che there has been a vessel or a fellow ©) ot people have asked, ‘Have we no Boussard here?” SING TO ME, SWEET! © BY MRS. M. C, — Sing to me, sweet! Sing ef white lilies floating clear On gurgling waters, very near My weary feet! _. Sing to me, sweet! Sing of the swallow’s far-off nest, In rustling branches, cared for, blest, In her retreat! Sing to me, sweet Sing of Italia’s gentle clime— Her ever-living summer time, With charms replete! Sing to me, sweet, Of heroes, martyrs, honest men, Whose glorious souls, all free from pain, Rest at His feet! And now, my sweet, Thy singing voice is full of tears. Thine eye the tender sadness wears, Mine own repeat! Oh, songster sweet! Thy music melteth in my dreams, Thy music fadeth like faint gleam Of fairy feet! : Good night, my sweet! Thy voice hath taken my soul to Heaven, And I would linger there till driven— The golden street! WHO SHALL WIN? BY HANNA HOPPER. “Jt seems that we are both in love with the same girl. A very disagreeable discovery, Will, and one of us is to be pitied; but which one, the future must decide.” . And with these words, Lucius March rose. from. his lounging position before the fire, and, striding across the room, looked into the mirror. He saw reflected there a very handsome face—a face almost as white and fair asa girl’s; brown hair, wavy and soft; great blue eyes, and full red lips, around which curled a mustache, which was his pride gud delight, He ran his white fingers .hrough his hair, and took a long survey of himself, and then, in a tone of evident satisfaction, he said: ’ “Come here, Will, and look in the glass by the side of me, and see who is likely to win.” “Are you a fool?’ roared young Doctor Browne, con- tracting his brows, and stopping suddenly before the fire, for he had been pacing the room, ‘Do you take me for a love-sick swain, and expect 1 am going to spend any of my time to find out who will win?. Go ahead, and ask her to marry you.. I'll not interfere. I’m not quite so senseless yet as to think Myra Dean would marry a home- ly, rough fellow like me, with only.a good practice to sup- port me, when Lucius March stands ready to offer her bis heart, his hand, and his fortune. Let tne sabject drop here. It was by accident that you learned my se- cret. Forget it, and marry Myra, and be happy.”? There was.a tremor about this strong man’s lips, as he said this, but it was unnoticed by the handsome young man who still stood before the glass, : , “7']] own you talk sensibly, Will; but your heart is larger than mine, and your brain too. You are worth a dozen fellows like me;-but what I lack in my head I’ve got in my pocket; and that, you know, will do generaliy more than heart or brain. Of course, Myra Dean isn’t the one for you. She.is.used to luxury; and, really, Will, | do think I stard a little better chance than you with ‘her, and I do like her immensely. You shall come to my wed- ding, Will, and take tea with us as often as twice a week. | I think Vl propose to-night, if I find # good opportunity at. the party. 1 don’t think you care half as mach about her as | do—you have business, you Know, to take your, attention. Don’t look so crdss, (’m going out to geta new pair of kids for the party. “What number do you jo wear, Will? Pll get you a pair.”? Dr. Browne was looking steadily into the fire; he dia} not reply or look up, aud apparently had not heard a word of his friend’s remarks. “Good day, then Will, if you are bound never to speak again. Ill see you this evening,’’ and saying this, Lucius went out into the street, and Dr. Brown ‘still continued looking into the. fire. | Suddenly he turned abont and commenced pacing the room again. He stopped in front of the mirror, and looked in at his brown face, the lower part ol wuich was covered with a thick, glossy beard. There was a frown already on his brow, but he frowned deeper as he’ saw the reflection of his face. “Whatis there aboutme that a girllike Myra Deane could fancy ??, But as he said this half aloud his face soft- ened for an instant, as he remembered one never-to-be- forgotten time when danger was very near him, and slie cauglit his nand and tooked up into his face, with pleading eyes, full of tenderness, too, he thought then, and he had, velore he realized what he was about, pressed her hana, and kissed her brow, aSsuring her lie would be careful. Tue thoughts of this sweet moment had cheered his heart many a time, and he had hoped thatin spite of her riches and his poverty he migut one day cal her his own, but the dream was over now. Lucius Marcu would win her; be thought he wassure of that, but away down in his heart there was—though he did not know it—a ray ol hope remaining. He went to the party that night. He wished to see her once more wile she was Iree. Hese med moody and re- served, and very little was seen of him during the evening, and he saw little else than Myra Deane in her modest white dress as she went about among the guests, or floated in the ‘*mazy dance.”? At last he saw her lean- ing ou the arm of Lucius March, and soon they disap- peared from the drawing-room. He frowned, and his heart beat high. She would soon be pledged to another. Tue thought maddened him, he rushed out to the piazza to feela breath of fresh air. With rapid strides he walked up and down-—the plazza trying to still the tumult in his breast. He did not wait to see her again, but went to lis rooms, and tried to study, but could not; then fie tried to sleep, but it was near day- light before Slumber visited his eyelius. The next day he received an invitation to-take-the place of a distinguish- ed and beloved doctor who had died but a lew weeks pre- vious, and immediately accepted it. It would be sucha relief to get away from the massdenihe Riéaces ef Myra Deane’s blue eyes, and the sound of her voice whicn thrilled him through and through, He was sittiug in a thoughtful, attitude, with the letter of ipvitation in his hand, when Lucius Maren entered. “What have you there?’ were the first wordsof the young man. “Anything important, Will?” Doctor Brown madea few explanations, in a short, crisp manner, “I believe you are down on me, Will, about that love affair. I havent proposed yer—didn’t get an opportunity. But I’m safe enough. Come. out, Will, and let us take a walk down to tue river. You look as if you ueeded some exercise.” “I do, and I will go with you.” Dr. Brown buttoned his overcoat to lis chin. and the two friends were soon walking briskly alorvg, arm-in-arm, through the street. They walked a Jong distance, and when they, were about to :eturn, it was, twilight and they were weary; so they stepped into a Car and seated them- Selves comiurtably, for tuere was only one other passen- ger. In one corner of the car, and next to the doctor, sat Myra Deane; but she was. closely vailed, and neither of the young men recognized her. They were talking basily, and so loud that Myra heard vearly every word they said. “Itis a pity, Will, we are both in love with the same ‘girl, and ‘it’s a’ pify you must go away from the city. Vould you marry her jast as quick, Will, ifsne was poor. \I must confess that 1 wouldn’t.?? ‘should’ call such a question an insult to myself ,.and to Miss Deane, coming from anyone but you,’ said the doctor. “I love her, and not ber Money; and if she were penniless to-day, it would be the happiest moment of my life to make ber my wife and sbield her from all, harm. But [requested you not te mention this subject again—it 18 very painful to me. No one would ever have known my secret if accident had not divulged it. To-morrow I shail be in anew place, with new scenes and new faces around me. Ishali think of littie else Lian my. business, and pro- bably never see Myra again.” “QO yes, you Willi; when time has healed the wound, you will come and see 0S IM Our elegant house, and we will all be the best of friends, You are a grand fellow, Will, and if girls only knew what was good for themselyes. they would choose you before me every time, in spite of my riches and your poverty. I was fortunately born nand- some and rich, and that is all girls ask for in a husband.” “Not all of them,” spoke vp Myra Deane, throwitg back her vail and looking with crimson cheeks into the young men’s faces. ‘‘Not all of them, Mr. March. And I believe I know whatis good for myself. I do not think it unmaidenly after I have heard unintentionally your conversation, and have learned that I am veloved by Doctor Browne, to reply to him that I have loved him long and truly, and will be-his wife, I was forced to speak through fear that he would go away to-morrow, and I should ‘not see him again.” There was no one in the car but these three; and Doc- tor Browne clasped the jittle gloved hand of Myra, and his face glowed all over with happiness. Poor Lucius March had nothing to say, though he tried to apologize, and only made the matter worse, and a few minutes after the dis- _ whenever | covery he left the car, and Dvuctor Browne’ still clasping the little hand of Myra, said »vever aword, and they rede silently on near to the maiden’s nome. When in the cle- gant and cheerful parlor, Doctor Browne, in the fullness of his joy, held the *‘brave little girl,’’ as he called her a moment in his strong arnis, and thanked Heaven for the incident, so strange and so fraught with blessings, and Myra, for her bravery in speaking and having the mat- ter so amicably settled. He did not give.up tle new sit- uation offered him, but when he went there to commence his practice, he took with him a loving little wife to be allhisown until death; and joy and peace went with them, and dwelt with them all through their lives, and blue-eyed Myra, as wife and mother, proved in all her oe ways that she Knew at least “what, was good for ersell. ———_ + 9<+____—— Items of Interest. £@ A physician riding in a Boston street car, recently gave up his seat to an elderly lady. On inquiry he found that it was Mrs. Hannah Clark, the only daughter of Lieutenant Rollins, of Bunker Hill fame, living frugally in Boston at the age of ninety-six, on an income of $43, the U. S. Government allowing her an annual pension of $48, which it costs $5 to collect in Boston. 4G= The Superior Court of Chicago has decided thata promissory note given by a candidate for public oflice to » rival candidate, the consideration being that tle receiver of the note shall withdrawn from the candidacy, is void, for the reason that such a contract is contrary to public policy, and of a character tending to debauch pubiic mo- rals. fas A Mr. and Mrs. Whitney, of Montville, Ohio, cele- brated the seventieth anniversary of their marriage re cently. Totalnumber of their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, 115. 4a>> The skeleton of the beheaded murderer, Tropp- mann, issaid to have been sold tothe proprietor of a London museum of cuiviasities, by a French resurrection- ist, who stole the corpse a few days after the execution had taken place. Ras> The Empress Eugenie is constantly a prey to great terror, on account of the anonymous letters which she receives in regard to a plow said to exist for the purpose of poisoning her son, the Prince Imperial. ka@e~ The fare on the don horse-railways is one pen- nyamile. The cars ay made to convey twenty-eight passengers on the outside and twenty-two inside, and are very elegant. = The oldest son of one of the wealthiest families in the City of Mexico is suspected of being a leader of a gang of bandits, stolen articles having been found in possession of the family. kis The oldest women in Vienna is Marie Henschkow- sky, born inthe year .1764, at Werlik in Bohemia. She is the widow of a prince’s servant, is blind in both eyes, and is in her one hundred and sixth year. gas~ Lord Napier lately stated that on the vorders of the Red Sea the effect of putting the bulb of a thermometer into a man's mouth was to send down the mercury ten degrees. gap The Israelites in Russian Poland are compelled by their abject destitution to emigrate into Prussia. At Memel the Jewish community have opened a large asy- lum and hospital for their reception. kas The Paris cabman has a newspaper organ, which is madeup of waifs and strays, songs and sermons, to beguile bim as he slumbers on his box, or nods over his glass of absinthe. #@- London city pauperism increases. The number of paupers in that city in the ond week in March, 1870, was 174,760, to contrast with 149.175 for the same week in 1869. The indoor poor were 37,337 against 36.788. 4G A Mobile merchant has received an anonymous let- ter inclosing $1,100, whith the writer stated was in resti- tution for $1,000 out of which he wronged him two or three years ago. 4a The city of London occupies 77,997 acres, or 122 square wiles,and has a population of 3,170,754. The number of houses is 406,507. Ba Three hundred towa merchants have resolved to use nothing but silver for “change” im all their transac- tions of business. : &as- Tennessee women take their knitting work to church; unver some preachers people in the congregation only knit their brows. . 4a A Columbus, Ga., paper rejoices at the occurrence of a fooi-race in that city, because it ‘sent a ripple athwart the sea of general stagnation.” ka=> The biggest shoes for women made in the Phila- delpuia market go to Utah; the smallest are ordered for Havana. , Corn husks are not only made into paper and mat- tresses in this country, but they are now woven into door e is wae The faculty of the M ; lege bas decided to, admit s.x young women to enjoy the benefits of that institution. BG At one wharf in Portsmouth, N. 8., a million pounds of codfish have been landed this season. #G Preparationas for the }rknd Maustiial fair, to be held at Naples next autumn, are in rapid progress.’ AG A Boston paper thinks that England's present want is a Deaf Asylum for the sole use of British sea captains. ka=> The Baptists of Ireland have doubled in numbers Since 1859. , has They are boasting of @ septuagenarian in Ohio who. has kept a diary in verse for the past fifty years. a> The Savannah fishermen have this season shipped 75,000 whife shad, most of them to the North. AG Strawberries are ripe in Florida. Ooo WE have the pleasure of announcing, that a writer, who has long been a favorite with our readers, but who de- serted our columns for a short time, is about furnishing us with some fine stories. The lady will write under the nom de plume of MRS. Harrinr L. AINSWORTH. ———_>-4-+_-+_—_ To Correspondents. Gosste wita READERS AND CONTRIBUTORS.— Rose Hegler.—Ist. softing ot the brain is caused by the want of a proper supply of nourishment to the cerebral substances, and may arise from various causes. Itis characterized by lowness of spirits, headaches, giddiness, the loss of memory, and at length imbecility and paralysis. Unfortunately, this 1s a dis- ease which little can be done to remedy, especially when it re- sults from.a disordered state ofthe organs which supply the brain with nutrition, as from disease or onstruction in the ar- teries. which convey the blood tothe brain. Frequently it is occasioned by over-apxiety or excessive study. The trouble to which you alinde is not, we think, of a dangerous kind, and = be cvred by means of nourisuing food, gentle exercise, bathing, tonics, ete. AS the trouble is. nervousness—probably caused by indulvence in strong coffee or tea, or too much read- ing and study, or by fretting over some annoyance—you should avoid the predisposing cause, whatever if may be, and cultivate the gentler feelings in refined social intercourse and in pleasant unemotional amusement. 2d. We think your eyes are affected by the nervousness, and that were it cured you need fear no further annoyance from the eyes. However, we would advise you to consult, a tor, whose advice will do you more service than his. medicine. 3d. Cataract of the eye comes on without pain, and the symptom first perceived is dim haziness of the sizht, as ifa mistor thin film were interposed between the object and the eye. Frequently cataract proceeds from hereditary disposition, from aetive inflammation or external violence, but oftenest from unknown. internal causes. 4th. Washerwomen give the gloss to starched shirt,bosoms and col- lars by adding a feaspoon(ni of ¢larified gum-arabic to the usual amount of starch which they put in such articles ........ Luvard Prescotte.—Ist. ‘the card was really pennéd by the persons named. Its want of truth we are not responsible for. 2d. We try to get the best, and generally succeed; but itsometimes bap- pens that pocr sheets get among the best paper... There are few papers, which wili not present a dilapidated appearance after having gone through the hands of several readers. ..... Godefroi. —Ist. There are birds’ nests which are considered epicurean delicacies by Asiatres. The nest of the sea swallow of the Malay Archipelago, the lawit of Java, and the salangane of the Phil- ippimes are sought by the natives sometimes at, great risk, and pr zed as edible delicacies. These nesis sellin the Chinese mar- sets at from $5 to $20 a pound—some of the finer sorts selling for twice their eight insilver. The Chinese use the edible nest in their inost refined soups.. They ascribe to it peculiar strength- ening qualities. 2d. Your penmanship is fair. your spelling cor- rect, and your theughts are grammatically express: d.....-..De Vere. —ist, The medicines sola ak gentleman are those used GUAR no. by medical men of his school. ac Homer.—We know nothing whatever ot the utation of the person refer- HOG THIEL Fred.—\st. As we have no knowledge of the insti- tute, we can give vou no infe tion concerning it. 2d. The soil of Arkansas varies frem the mcbest and most productive to the most sterile; and the climate‘and productions are equally varied. , The river bottoms, composed of black alluvium cep: s- ited from the higher lands by the floods of untold centuries, are wendertully fertile, producing fine crops of cotton, corn, tobac- co, sweet Potatoes, melons, peaches, grapes, and various other troits. Rising trom the valley the soil becomes less productive, and in many places will not repay cultivation. 3d. We don ‘t for- get that the sLeamship Great Britain laid the Atlantic cable, but we have no remembrance of a visit to New Vork in 1866 or 1867. Have you a record of her lying atthe foot of 14th street in either of the above years? You know, the memory is liable to play us all sad tricks. ....C. H.—We do not know...... t.—The repu- tation of the company not beg known to us, we cannot in- form you concerning its trustworthiness...... Facctious—I1st. It is not usual on a lady or gentleman being mtroducad for them to shake hands; but should either offer the band to do <0, courtesy demands thatthe other soould take it. 2d. As such an invita- ton would ‘be given out of courtesy mercly, it should be de- clined. 3d. Agentleman should assist a lady, who is in his com- pany, into a car just as he would were she ent-ring a carriage. 4:h. When writing for the press the MS. should go out of the au- thor’s hands in as perfect a shape as he can put it. 5th. “Pro and Con” means “for and against.” 6th. Your handwriting is not up to the bookkeeper’s standard......... J. A. B.—Ist. It is not against the character of any one to play billiards asa penins: but it is against the character for any one to rlay illiards for money. or to neglect employment for the amuse- ment. 2d. Your aoe isexcellent. 3d. We donot tink that an appointment tothe Naval Academy could be obtained without political influence........ Greenhorn.—We Know nothing about the medicine, but have little faith in. anything, for which it is cla _— is is a be aes ene oP % NN. uacks, all....Zynn €.. —Ist. The first of April is called in the English language ai Fool’s Day. but the custom of sending peopie on empty errands and laughing at them, is com- mon in every country of Euro) and wherever Eu- ropean races have settled on this Continent. Two accounts are given of its origin. Oriental scholars say that it is derived from the “huli” feasts of the Hin- | tured off the coast of Cuba by pirates........ MH. vd | ath. doos, where a similar custom prevails. The other opinion is that it comes from.a celebration of Christ’s being sent about tuo and fro between Herod, Pilate and Caiaphas. In France, the fooled man is caHed poisson d’avril, meaning a silly fish, like a mackerel, which is easily caught. 2d. You write a very good hand. ....Jack.—Ist. Strong lights are injurious to the eyes, and all objects which reflect the sun’srays should be avoided by those with weak eyes. 2d. Smuking is injurious to the eyes, The very fact'that when smoke gets into the eyes it causes water to run trom them 1s proof sufficient. Besides, smoking weakens the stomach and disturbs the nerves, and their being troubled affects all the other organs of the body, 3d. Bathe your eyes frequently with water, which should not be colder than the at- mosphere. 4th. Your handwritin t is falc...) 55 Smoky City.—I1st. The fifteenth amendment means that it is the fifteenth amend- ment which has been made to the Constituts. n since its adop- dion. The first ten amendments were made in 1791, the elev- enth in 1798, the twelfth in 1804, the thirteenth in 1865. the four- teenth 1n 1868, and the fifteenth in 1870. The following is the fifteenth amencment: “The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States, or by any State, on accountof race, color, or previous condition of servitude.” 2d. Alice Carey’s poem entitled “The Miners of Avondale” appeared in No. 47, Vol. XXIV, New York WEEKLY. 3d. The author of ‘‘Peerless Cathleen’ is one of the finest writ- ers in the English language, as you must have discovered if you have read “Peerless Cathleen,” “The Lady of Grand Court,” and as far as has been published of ‘The Rose of Kendale,”.... —— Bowers.—\st. It is not pecessary that to be a successful author you should have a knowledge of the dead languages; in- deed some of the most powerful writers of the English language knew nothing of the learned languages. Spakespeare, the greatest of ali writers, had ‘‘but little Latin and less Greek.” 2d. Clerks in lawyers’ offices receive salaries, but those who are merely law students do not. They are required to pay for the direction of their studies and the office room which they occu- py. 3d. “Peter Parley” was the assumed name under which Samuel G. Goodrich, an American writer, published a series of very popular books for the young. He was born in 1793 and died in 1860. 4th. We wouid preter stories relating to any other sub- ject than the late war. Our paper circulates in all parts of the country, is read by men and women of different political views, and we avoid politics as much as possible. It is very difficult to keep from the expression of viewsin a story of the late war which would not be offensive to some of our readers, to whom we have given the promise that the New YoRK WEEKLY would in no way discuss political or reiigious matters...... Skinner.—If the parents of the youth cannot control him, they should give him in charge of the town authorities. A son who will not work and who treats his parents with disrespect should be taught, even if recourse to legal punishment be neccessary, that the law, human and divine, compels the child to give unhesitating obedi- ence, in all things right, to the parent........ Harry Burton.—We do not think that your writings would be quite up to our stand- ard, judging by your note. lt may appear strange to you, but amore intimate acquaintance with writing, spelling and gram- mar, than you appear to have, is considered necessary before Sareea is usually undertaken:..... , A. Cobleigh.—Ist. The stories will appear in’the NEw YORK WEEKLY. 2d. We will be pieseed to hear from you occasionally...... Ephraim.—I\st. The nstitution 18a quack concern. 2d. In your case there is but lit- tle nope of cure. You should seek, however, the advice of a good. physician...:..Gilbert May.- 1st. We shall shortly publish another story by Mrs. Lucy Randall Comfort. 2d. A decided humbu -Geo. W. House.—We know of no place where fossils are bought and sold in New York. Collections of fossils are us- ually made by gentlemen of wealth and _ by scientific socieues. And the important colleges throughout the country have such collections. to which they are continually adding...... Geo. H, Hopper.—We have no remembrance of the story named. Have Mg not made a mistake in the name of thestory?...... Charlie S. t.. They are not relatives. 2d. The author of “Squirrel Cap” did not write ‘ Nick Whiffies.’ The author of ‘‘Nick Whiffles,” Dr. J. H. Robinson, has been dead several yeart. Ves... t. those adz.”? 2d. It is correct to saya pair of pantaloons, and a pair in this case does nol mean two any more than that a pair of scissors is two articles....+ .—-Ist. We know nothing about the watches. 2d. Inquire in an, where guns and pistols are sold. .3d. You write a good Patt mk.—Your writing is much below the ordinary standard of bookkeepers. aaa ‘ardware.—We have ed “( y Gieciegy called szidreq, conseq ’ ve you no . The next time you write, let tho" ine!pal wo bem en so that they can ve deciphered...... Dug Mac.—\st. If you are in a condition to make the present, it can do no harm. 24, The gentleman should give the first sign of recognition when meeting a lady acquaintance. 3d. Itis notof the slightest consequence. 4th. It would be a piece of impudence for ae to write to a lady who is not an acquaintance...... Contributor, Chas. S.—You are re- sponsible for the debts which your partner contracts for the rm, The law is that the acts of one partner binds all the others, when such acts are done in the usual course of business of the firm. This stands good, although they may have agreed among themselves that he shall have nosuch authority. So long as you remain in partnership, it will not make the least difference what notice you may five, the creditors of the firm will hold you responsible for its debts. iger Main.—Ist. The een of the name California, according to the annals of San Francisco, 1s uncertain. Sume writers have asserted that it comes from the Laun words calida and fornax, Spanish caliente fornalla, ‘a hot furnace’’—while others of high authority ques- tion this or ot the word. Itis PS aa a corruption of the original Indian name. The name California 1s first found in the writings of Bernal Diaz del Castillo, an officer under Cortes in Mexico, and by him limited to a single bay on the coast. In some of the early English maps Califorma is called New Albion, having been so named by Sir Francis Drake, who touched on the coast in one of his buccanee.i pediuons in 1579. A cen- tury later it was called Islas Carol aeepececd then to be an island), in honor of Charles II. of Spain; but subsequentl original name was revived and universally adopted. 2d. We nave never seen any account of a planet by the name you give. inne G, Duf.—We think you are a confirmed consumpitve. oe Aah Robert Lachville.—1st. Take-exercise and avoid the use of farina- ceous vegetables, fatty meats, and oily fish. 2d. Yes. 3d. You can improve your handwriting by doing ‘ess flourishing........ H. F, P.—Your sen imentsdo you honor, but we cannot say as much of your versification.......Johnnie.—A aoa. da. Rough.—“‘Red Douglas” was pu’ lished in the New York Weekiy about two years ago. It was written by Edward Minturn...... A, B. C.—ist. He did not act properly. 2d. A bale of shingles is a proper expression. 3d. No, let him go toa doctor. 4th. Put the affair about the money in the hands of alawyer.—The other questions, being of a political and. religious character, we will not answer...... Shibboleh,—ist. You should warn them that if they do not stop the violation of their pledge you will report them to the society. 2d. Your handwriting is merely passable -eee H. Elliott McBride.—The next temperance story which we shall publish is named ‘Redeemed by Love; or, The Drunkard’s Daughter,” and is ‘rom the ; en of Hannah Hopper. We think it wili prove a favorite with ailour readers......... Death.—Ist. The fel'ow is one of the most notorious quacks and unconscion- ablerogues in New York. 2d. We never heard of him before. 3d. Apply tothe American News Co.......% irant.—lst. No such book has ever been published. 2d, In some Stares a man can hold two offices without violation of his oath of office —in other S:ates he cannot. 3d. The head «f the department. 4th. Many works on the ramet of rified arms have been pub- lished; one of the best 1s Wilcox’s ‘Rifles and Rified Ordnance; an E-ementary Treatise on the Theory o Rifle Firing.” 5th. Your handwriting is not up to the baok-kceper’s standard...... Hill.—Apply to the American News Co. for works on eti- HM. K. P. B.—We know nothing about the person named........Music.—We cannot give the intormation .... .... Inquisitive.—1st. Inquire at apy railroad office, 2d. There will be sunday boats to Albany the coming summer as usual Fish.—By the study of a spelling-book you. in become a good G.W. S.—lst. We know nothing about the watch; but think a $1 watch cannot be of much account. 2d. No. 3d. A swindler. 4th. The story is partially founded on fact. Some of the inci- dents of which the author makes use occurred some fourteen or fifteen yearsago. 5th. Your writing is not up to the book- keeper’s standard...... Walter Stoddard.—\st. J. B. Burr & Co., of Hartford, Conn,, are the publi@~< TO NEWS AGENTS. We.are printing alarge edition of SHoo FLy for distri- bution by the News Agents, All agents who forward their business cards, for insertion in the SHOO FLy, will be at once supplied with the number which they can dis- tribute to advantage. " TWO NEW STORIES Two Brilliant Writers Will be commenced in the NEw YORK WEEKLY week af- ter next: THE WITCH OF THE OCEAN ; oR, 21-\THE DADY OF THE SILVER SPRAY. By Edward Minturn, Author of “Red Douglass,” *Ethelbert, the Wanderer,” etc., and _ Who Did Lady Violet Marry 1? OR, THE MYSTERY OF THE BLACK DIAMOND, By Helen C-rwin Fisher. Sit 4 of any cour: of record and giving your reasons for wishing the change of name he will grant you the power tovchangeit... We do not know the laws of other States on this matter....,. Tripod. —By addressing a letter to tne President of the Polytechnic school at Troy, N. Y., youu can learn the cost, ete., of a course of civil engineering. ....... Druid ~Your only manly course is to go to the lady to whom you are engaged, telisher the whole truth, and throw yourself on her mercy. Wedo.ubtmot but that she will be thankfu: tor having escaped marriage with so fickle and thougntless a man as you appear to be....Reynolds.—Yes........ Helford.—\st You must be able to go further than simple in- terest if you wish to occupy a clerkship where an accomplished urithmetician is required. 2d. The nervousness will wear away as you beceme accustomed to_a position where people are look- ing over your shoulder, at you, and bothering yeu with ques- tions. 3d. Join agymnasium...... Katie.—Our supply is already much greater than we can possibly find room to accommo: ate, ce nsequentiy we are com-elled to decline Snimmuc.—Dr. Robert M. Bird wrote the novel called “The Nick of the Woods; or, The Jibbenainosay.” He wasthe author of “The Giadiator,” the tragedy in which Edwin Forrest so grandly re- pacernts Spartacus. Dr. Bird was born at Newcastle, Del., in 803, and died io Philade!phia in 1854..... Self Reliance —A young man of good habits might expect a large salary on first going to work, but it is probable that he would be disappointed. The salaries paid to novicesat any kind of work are small. Get work, make yourself useful te your employer, show tnat you are capable and trustworthy, and then you can think of asking for and getting fair pay for your laber...... C. Hawkins.—Ist. You will find “The Girl I Left Behiud Me’ in aimost any song book which has been issued for the last twenty years. 2d. We do not want any...... A, E. H.—A quack...... D. J, F.—\st. A treaty has been entered into with Prussia in regard to releasing such Prussians as have escaped to the United States and be- come citizens from being ane for desertion should they revisit the land of their birth. 2d. You cannot become yu citizen of the United States unultwo years from the time you make a declaration of intention of becoming a citizen...... F. J. N.— Your handwriting would not be a bar to your obtaining a situ- ation as bookk¢eper...... Schmidt.—The steamer Schmidt is not anew vessel, nor, though a good staunch vessel, is she at all to be compared with the other steamships which cross the Atlan- tic. The Schmidt wasa sailing ship, and an engine of some fourteen to tweenty herse power was putin her. She has still to depend on her sails principally in her voyages...... I, X. N. —Were we in your place we would let her go. A woman who will desert ber husband at the dictation of even her parents cannot be a good wife. You can resort to the law to compel the restoration of your child...... W. A. R.—Of course it would be asin We are not permitted todo evil thatgood may come of it....Eina.—If charms of person, fascination of manner, good- ness of heart, music of voice, with the many other endearing qualities which we feel assured you possess, will not win the man's love, then is his heart of granite, and Jove powders or philters would have no effect on him at-all. You know what the poet says of an obdurate fair one—it is true also of the stern- er sex: “It of herself she will not love, nothing can make her.”’ soaieiat 4 Patrick.—London contains the largest population of any city in the world. New York city in the parts given to resi- ‘a@ences is more densely populated than, we think, any other city in the world...... Ben.—ist. Apply to the American News Co. 2d. By constant practice for from a year and a half to two years you would become a skillful writer of phonography...... Beatrice De L.—\st. If you paid attention to every lithe remark of the kind made by your acquaintances you would soon be without any. 2d. Having been introduced to the gentleman there would be no impropriety in your permitting him to visit you. 3d. Itisas easy to predict from what quarter the wind will blow this day week asto tell what will tne fashion of bonnets 2 month hence...... Ralph.—We do not supply the ad- dress of our correspondents to impertinent _imquirers...... Who is She.—lst. Your handwriting is fair. 2d. Itis not considered good table etiquette to pour tea or coffee into the saucer. There are some people who would much sooner be caught ina false- hood than in such a breach of the forms laid down by the omnipresent Mrs. Grundy...... Farmer.—W e know nothing about him but what his own advertisemen's tell us,...Bret Brown.— We think you are right, and shall remedy the evii shorily...... Eugene Habel.—We know not of the whereabouts of any sparring, or boxing school, and would not give you the information it we dio know. Take our advice and stay away from sparring schools. The associations formed in such places are seldom profitable or ereditable..... Buffalo Bitl.—1st. The numbers ot the New York WEEKLY containing ‘Buffalo Bill”? willcost you72cents. 2d. Your writing would be good did you not twist and curl the let- ters out of all shape. ...Zemplar.—We thank you heartily for the trouble you have taken, and shall feel much obliged if you will forward the names...... Mike.—Your handwritingis fair........ E. F. Green.—Your composition shows that yourre a green hand with the pen, and, though your style is “‘tresh,” it has haroly sufficient poiish to meet the taste of our readers...... Violet.— Certainly, if you have given offense, even unintentionally, you should apologize........ Forget Me Not.—\st. The lady should, as delicately as possible, inform the gentleman _ that his visits are not desirable. be easier to read did you use black ink...... ; clin B.—lst. It is an incorrect use of the word ‘‘sets’’ (o say that “a hen sets” —it should be “a hen sits.” To “set the table’ is.a proper use of the word “set.” 2d. To give the names of celebrated artists and the titles of their principal works would ke, more than one numberof the New York Weexty. 3d. You had better see a physician...... rg.—You can go by way of Sana Francis- co to any port in China in, one-quarter the time that you can reach it by any other. .. The distance from New York to China, by way of Cape Horn, is 21,500 miles; by way of Cape of Good Hope, 19,500; and, by way of San Francisco, about 10,500 miles...... A. A. Mc\ally.—You have a very large share of im- pudence, if you have a very small amount of talent. The poem which you send as your composition can be found in every old scrap-book in the country. Hereafter, when you set about an imposition, pursue it with a little better skill. We would also call your attention to asomewhat worn truism, but which ap- pears to have escaped your attention: ‘“‘Honesty is the best poli- cy.”..... GW. Lang.—About seven o’clock W. H. Hall.— Ist. It would be incorrect to say, “Hand me them adz.”” When speaking of a single adz, you should say, “‘Hand me that adz.” If speaking of a number of adz, you should say, “Hand me 2d. Your handwriting is fair. Your letters would > s 3 : The above stories, tho ‘entirely different in style, are both interesting. The first isa story of the sea, written by one who knows every inch of a ship from stem to stern, and it deals in the wild scenes, the glittering ro- mance, the dangers and the humorsof whieh the sea is so prolific. Mrs. Fisher’s story. is one,of, English so- ciety life. The plot will be found original and strangely exciting, and the mystery which surrounds the marriage of Lady Violet, the beautifol daugh- ter of the Earl of Eaglescliff, cannot but fascinate all who admire a story where the mystery is maintained to the very close, and where rapid changes of incidents keep up the interest of the story throughout. TWO OTHER SPLENDID STORIES will follow imme- diately, from the pens of two of the very best of our writers: : THE SKY TRAVELER; OR, THE MAGICIAN OF THE LAKES. By P. Hamilton Myers. : AND CONRAD THE CONVICT OR, THE BRAND OF CRIME. By Francis A. Durivage- Mr. Myers’ story is a peculiar one, unlike anything which we have ever published. We will not give the slightest hint concerning the plot, leaving our readers to discover for themselves what a strangely beautiful story Mr. Myers has written. “Conrad the Convict,”? we pro- nounce one of the most thrilling and intense stories we have ever read. There is not a dull or commonplace chapter in the whole story. Scenes of action and excite- ment follow each other with startling rapidity, which are enhanced by the bold, strong, stirring language in which they are described. We» predict that ‘Conrad the Con- vict??. will create a sensation among the readers of the NEW YORK WEEKLY. 4 A SERIES OF THE FINEST STORIES EVER PRINTED, are now being prepared for our columns, and will follow each other with the rapid succession for which the New YorK WEEKLY has become famous. No other paper in the world can present so strong an array of talent as we have engaged for the amusement of our readers. In the course of this volume we will publish SERIAL STORIES WRITTEN BY a. Charles T. Manners, Hero Strong, Annie Ashmore, Leon Lewis, Margaret Blount, Capt. Mayne Reid, Edward S. Ellis, Marion Harland, Amanda Douglass, Roger Star- buck, Burke Brentford. Sophie Oakley, Prof. W. Henry Peck, Mary Kyle Dalias, Ned Buntline, Grace Terry, Evelyn Ashby, W. H. Macy, and Maurice Silingsby. POETICAL CONTRIBUTIONS will be furnished by Na- than D. Urner, Alice Carey, Mrs. M. A. Kidder, Jennie Stovin, Wm. Ross Wallace, and other popular poets. THE HUMOROUS MATTER will continue to be sup- plied by quaint, witty, and wise Josi Billings, rollick- ing Philander Doesticks, and sententious Jehial Slab. IN EVERY DEPARTMENT THE NEW YORK WEEKLY shall continue to be UNAPPROACHABLE IN EXCELLENCE, UNEQUALLED IN VARIETY, and : UNDEVIATINGLY INTERESTING. It shall continue, in fact, to be “THE PEOPLE’S FAVORITE STORY and SKETCH PAPER. BZ JOSEPHINE POLLARD- Jamis has long been a-courting me; Never was lover more true, But if he asks me to merry him, What in the world shall I do? Lovers are tender and thoughtful, Husbands their temper display, °° Sof he asksme'to marry him, |.» What'shalid'say ? Jamie came over the meadow, Up to the place where I stoed, Bringing me flowers from the biilids; Jamie is always so good | by - ‘@alling me “dearie,” and "dar!ing,” _-) In his affectionate way;,, ~ - olf he should ask me tomarry Jim, + What shall I say ? Pity fo slight his caresses; -Pity to wound one so dear; Levers I might find in plenty, But none like my Jamie, I fear. Come up, my heart, to the rescue, You can advise me I guess. : if Jamie asks me to marry him, stm ¢ Shall I say yes? The Rose of Kendale. By the Author of ‘‘Peerless Cathieen,’? and ‘“‘Lady of Grand Court.’ iThe Rose of Kendale’ was commenced in No. 20. Back num- - bers can be had from News Agents throughout the country.] e CHAPTER XI. “Oh, is it not too cruel such a girl as I! Should be sentinto a nunnery to pine away and die? No, I won’t be a nun! Old Song. The old countess roached the tabie where the long cloth hung down ow ee the ground, anu the heart of Fanchette seemed turned toice with fear. It bas been said’that she was in mortal dread of her stern grandmamma—all her pride was lowered, all her spirit quenched while she was in the presence of this haughty old tyrant; and now her memory carried her back io that time, only'a week or two since, when she had been talking to Elsie in the wood, and Duval and his friend Hamilton had watched her from behind the lrees. : . She had had great difficulty in making her harsh, old relative believe the truth, namely: that she was utterly and entirely innocent and ignorant of the neighborhood of the two you en. Her grandm had at last believed Fanchette, that she knew potbing of Duval or Hamilton; but she guessed the real fact, that Elsie had prompted them to come and foc’ the beauty of Lady Fanchette at a distance; and nee her rage against and horror of that strange be- ings PRET .eyen of the gipsy’s insolence toward her ele. *** tay But now, should.the countess discover the young man, whose dark, wees face she would be certain to re- cognise, hiding in the summer-house, and Fanchette meeting him clandestinely, what would she do, or say, or think? . The white face, the compressed lips of Lady Fanchette, did not escape the notice either of the lynx-eyed old countess, or of the stern-faced lawyer, McClyde. “What amusement can you find in this summer-house, Fanchette > asked the old countess, with a gleam inher eyes wilicn made the miserable Fanchette tremble. ‘Are you re } No, Isee no books. Sketching? No, I see no pencils. Working? No, Isee no needles or muslin. Thinking? Eh, that’s the most likely thing a girl of your age would be doing in the dusk of the autumn evening, and f wonder much, my lady, whether your thoughts were pleasant ones.” ~ A ~ To-descripve the sarcasm conveyed by the old lady’s dones and looks 1s a thing impossible. ~ Fanchette saw with intense horror that the suspicions ‘of the countess were aroused, that she had come there to try and detect something. ; “Grandmamma,” she said, desperately, at length, ‘I ‘eR aS must-all go to the house before the rain comes own. re , ‘ “You think that; do you?” asked the caustic old count- ess, With a snarl of contempt. ‘That is the thought of Lady Fanchette Germain. But Lady Fanchette will find she-has other people, and other people’s thoughts to deal with, will sue not, Mr. Clyde ?? As thé countess spoke sne approached the table, and befure the, hapless Fanchette could interpese she had raise’ tre cloth with the of her gold-headed cane. The watery beams of the sinking sun fell full npon the handsome head of the young officer as he croucped un- der the table, like a scout in the enemy’s quarters. He sprang forth, the moment he was seen, stood, and drew himself up to his fuil bight. Evidently the ola countess expected to find somebody in hiding, and was not in the least astonished when she saw Duval. She stepped back in her high-heeled shoes, put her eye-glass to her eyes, scanned the young ofticer trom head to foot with a supercilious smile; tnen,spread- mg out her rich brocaded skirt, she sank upon one of the seats, and resting her hand on the head of her cane, she addressed the lawyer as though neither Duval nor the hu- miuliated Fanchette were present. ‘-This is a pleaSant anda pretty episode in the Lady Fanchette Germain’s are} it not, Mr. Clyde?” she said, with an ironical emphasis which cut to the soul of Fancheite, ‘At seventeen deceives her grand- motner, meets a clandestine lover in the shrubbery, and conceals pim under a table on the approach of lier friends. Sne must be a clever girl. She has never read a novel, that | Know of; and | have never permitted her to see a play. because | have always destined her to the holy life of a nun; but you see she is acute enough, adroit at in- _wigue as a French countess or a Spanish matron. And She only seventeen, and living all her life in the greatest seclusion, banished from male society as from romances. And yet’’—the old countess-grandmother laughed a bitter Jaugh—“look at her, guilty, shame-faced, low-born crea- -ture! Ah,itisthe spirit of the innkeeper’s daughter whieh will awaken in the earl’s grandchild. Well, well, well, I must wash my hands of this; soon—very soon | must place this girl where she will be under holy watch and ward trom night till morniug, and from morning till night. She shall learn torise at five and chant her ma- ‘tins barefooted on cold stones; she shall eat lentil soup pad black bread; all the wholesome rigors of the Order of “St, Annunciata shall be brought into full force—snali be exercised upon the most dangerous, rebellious, and in- triguing spirit, and the flesh shall be humiliated. Yes, yes, yes! we will start for the Continent the day after to- morrow, and the Lady Fanchette shall begin a new life.’’ -Duval trembled with rage. He turned upon the count- ess, passionately: “Your iadyship is most unjust,’ he said; ‘‘most cruel.’’ ‘-No doubt, no doubt,” she said, with a langb, waving him off with her hand. ‘Welook at things differently, young man, you and 1; 1am the Countess of Kendale, you perbaps are a draper’s assistant, or you give lessons in fencing, or are you a riding-master? You think, 1 suppose, that a love adventure with Lady Fanchetie Ger- main is likely to turn out a profitable speculation. You are miserably in tue wrong. She has no fortune but what -Igive her. Her father will only inherit a part of tne pro- perty, and he is not likely to give her anytning; even. af- ler my death, she must wait for his. Besives all this, Lady Fanchette is vowed, dedicated, promised to a con- vent; She belongs toit. lie cannot move hand or foot to avoid the fate I have reserved for her.’ ' Acold shudder ran through the frame of Fanchette when her grandinotner spoke these words, but the blood ot the young suldier flamed, as it were, with indigna- tion. “Madam—your ladyship !’ he cried, ‘‘you are usurping the place of Providence in uttering such boastful words. You have no right to dispose of any human being as though that human being were astone or a stock. No, you have not the right. Ido not contradict your asser- tion that | ama riding-master or draper’s assistant, only 1 think you know better in your own heart. Of intrigue, the Lady Fanchette is innocent; of regarding me in any other light than as a friend devoted to her service she is liy innocent. You do not divine rightly the reason f being here. Did vou understand the true cause which brings the Lady Fanchette and myself iogether, you might be surprised, if any human emotions save _tnose of anger and scorn can find a piacein your breast.” ., “You really compliment. me, young man,” cried the countess, with a mocking laugh; “but I have neither time nor inclination to bandy words with a fellow whom i have a great mind to take up fo: trespassing. I tell you ve ae that I will have the grounds watched, and that the next time you come here you shall be punished according to law. Now, Lady Fanchette, take the arm of Mr. Clyde, andif you can conduct yourself respectably I suall be charmed, 1 wish you better taste, young man, more principle, and improvement in your comportment ‘toward your superiors. Fanchette, 1 forbid you taking any notice of that person. | forbid yoneven saying adieu, You have nothing in common with the man in question, and, you never will have so long as you live.”” » Mr. Clyde, the stern lawyer, had not spoken as yet, but : mathe offered his arm to the Lady Fancheite, saying: - ©Your ladyship willdo well to obey the orders of your , venerated ald august grandmother. Do not look in the direction of that miserable adventurer, who has been “ae you to your hurt.”? _, “Heaven forbid,’ cried Duval, ‘that I should tempt, or aim tenipting, the Lady Fanchette to anything wrong; i J am Jeading her mind toward what is right and just, : r herself and otheis. Lady Fanchette, you are forbid- _den to eee me, but that shall not prevent my saluting you with the deepest reverence,” and Duvai bowed down to the ground. Then Fanchette cast a look at him grateful, earnest, yet Still he fancied tinctured with that pride of the Germain’s, which she seemed to inherit from her grandmother, but — appeared to have neen left out in the earl’s organi- zat n. Fanchette was hurried along by Mr. Clyde, the countess followed at aslower pace, and the little company proceed- ed in silence, herself in the great hall, her proud heart rose tumuitu- ously, and seemed to beat a refrain 1n deliance of the ty- ranny of the countess-grandmother. She looked at the great paintings representing her ancestors, some in fami- ly groups, some singly, knights and squires of the times of the crusades, barons of the bluff udor times, caval- iers of the Charles Stuart diys, and soldier-earls in scar- let coats and heavy curled wigs, who had fought under Marlborough, in the reign of Anne. She looked at all of these; she felt as it were conscious of their presence in a crowd, and she told herself that she in whose veins ran blood which had sprung’ from those warlike and noble men, was not justitied in tamely sub- mitting herself to the cruel caprices of a woman who was only allied to their noble line by the tie of marriage, not by the right of descent. “T will not be shut up in a convent,” said Fanchette to her own soul. She knew not how it was, but of late the idea had be- come very hateful to her, and to-night it seemed per- fectly insupportable. She relinquished the arm of Mr. Clyde when she enter- ed the house, and turned toward her grandmother, say- ing: “Grandmamma, may I go to my room ?”’ “No, little sly cat,’ cried the old countess, “your days of ‘My own room’—and she mimmicked the tone of Lady Fanchette—“‘are over. Henceforth, Mademoiselle Schnell, @ new governess, whom I have engaged for you, and who will arrive to-night, will be your companion night and day; and you must not be astonished at the excessive strictness which I shall exercise.” “Lady Fanchette had better attend your ladyship in the library,”’ said the lawyer, addressing the countess. “Follow me,’ said the countess, waving her hand ar- rogantiy toward her grandchild. Fanchette did not dare to disobey, but all the while a tumult of anger, impatience, and honest rebellion against Le agg wenton in her proud and outraged young ea The library at Kendale was a vast and splendid apart- ment, gloomy, grand, and ancient as some foreign cathe- dral. The ceiling, raftered with carven oak, black with time, and heavy with tracery, was painted between the Squares formed by the rafters with figures of cowled monks, kneeling saints, and other devices more quaint, weird—we had almost said awful, for there were repre- sentations of saints inflicting upon themselves the tor- ture of the lash; there were martyrs perishing in the flames; there were unearthly heads, as of those who had been long dead; pale phantoms, like faces peering out of windows by the light of a faint moon, and seeming by their gestures to implore the prayers of all living for de- liverance from the pains of .purgatory. The walls of the ghostly old room were lined with large books from floor to ceiling; the pillars of the book-case were of carven oak, like the rafters of the ceiling; all the furniture was of heavy carven wood and dark green velvet. But a magnificent fire cast a glow of warmth and com- fort over the gloomy place, and the old countess sank upon a velvet ottoman, took off her bonnet, and sat bold- ing up her uncovered gray head while she called Fan- chette to stand before her as a criminal, and ordered Mr. Clyde to shut the door. Fanchette stood in front of her grandmamma. She had not taken off her hood, her sweet face was lowered, her eyelashes rested on her cheek; but still she was prepared to do battle with her grandmother. She had made up her mind all at once never, never to enter a convent with her own consent. ‘ “How do you feel now, pray, after your abominable, disgraceful, and most unmaidenly conduct?” asked the countess, bitterly. “I have not acted, grandmamma, in a, manner to de- serve those epithets,’ said Fanchette. ‘If you under- stood the real business that took me to the shrubbery to meet Mr. Duval, you would not be so unjust as to call me by those names.’? “T have no-doubt, Lady Fanchette,” cried the scornful and bitter old countess, putting her gold eye-glass to her eye, and smoothing out the folds in her rich brocaae dress with the left hand, “that you and the draper’s assistant, for whom it seems you have got up a sentimental tender- ness, both think you have right on your side, and that you are free to disgrace yourself by a low marriage, as your father did before you. No, don’t interrupt me, please,’ waving her hand mockingly at the beautiful, trembling Fanchette. ‘I say, as your futher did vefore you; Now, I had no power over him; I could not prevent his marrying a givlat aninn; I could not follow a tall man avout, and’ lock him up, with a governess to take care of him, coald 1?” : The old countess leered through her gold eye-glass at on as she spoke, in a way which was positively terrible. ; “But I can do the like to your beautiful ladysbip, and 1 will. You have had too much liberty, little grand-daugh- ter, for one who is vowed, pledged, given over to a relig- ious life just as much as if the words were spok n at the altar. The black robe assumed, all the silk adresses, gold- en necklaces, diamond brooches laid aside forever; the yellow auburn hair clipped clese like a boy’s, the white linen coif put round the beautiful fresh-tinted face. I tell you that your fate 1s sealed, your mame written down, your life marked out for you.” fs The blood mantled het. in. Fanchette’s sweet face, then were, for the time; her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, and she glanced hopelessly about her. “Your fate is carved out for you,’? pursued the coun- tess, ‘and itis useless to rebel. I had hoped to see you embrace the pure and beautiful life wit gentle obedience and timid joy, but now I find that rebellion has begun in the proud heart. We must assail the angry spirit in its citadel; we must starve it out with bread-and-water diet. You have been too much pampered, grandchild.” Fanchette threw up her arms and speech came to her. “Grandmamma, iv is monstrous, unjust.. For those who have a vocation, for those who willingly embrace the life of a nun, itis a high and holy calling, bot for me —I should go mad shut up within the walls of a convent. No, no, no, grandmamma, I will never, never enter a convent—oh, never, never, never!’ Her voice rose to a passionate wail, then she broke into violent and tumnituous sobbing. The old countess looked at her with a grim and stern smile. Resting her lopg-pointed chin in her withered, jeweled hand, her elbow on her knee, she scanned the excited young face with a peculiarly sarcastic raising of her bushy eyebrows. ‘‘A fine spirit truly has been hiding in Kendale Castle all these years. ell, it has been like a lion couchant among flowers—that is the crest of the Kendaies. Now the wild savage springs out headlong in fury, ready to devour all things. Dear me, dear me, grandchild, 1 am an o]d woman, but you have deceived me completely, most completely. Never mind, we wiil tame this violence in a few weeks—our discipline will have changed tne co- quette into a meek and gentle saint. Yes, yes, yes, Fan- chette, your fate is sealed, remember that.”? “It is not, it is not!’ cried Fanchette, and now she stamped her slender foot in her impatience. ‘I will leave Kendale Castle; I will leave you, grandmamma; | will claim my rights as a. Britis subject, 1 will apply to the Queen, I will write to the papers, I will—_—” “Hush, husn!’’? cried the lawyer, coming forward. “You are a minor, and you have no riglit to do any of these things, Lady Fanchette. Only the church gives no one the power to make you assume the vail without your con- sent; therefore, if this spirit stillrules in you, you can leave the convent after two yearsof discipline, but you must enter it.’? Fanchette turned away and wept. “Escape, escape, escape!l’? that was her prayer—her re- solve, her passionate desire. Ah, what golden opportunities she had lost before the suspicion of the countess had beep aroused. Sune might have escaped.the fate which had suddenly assumed such gled to speak; passionate indignation, a burning, helpless sense of injustice scorched her mit spirit, as it aterrible aspect last night, tuis morning, almost apy time. Now, bow, she would be watched, guarded—she felt herself a prisoner. Her whcele soul seemed to arouse itself and clamor for the sight of her fatner—beloved, though unknowp, ill with fever at a village inn; and then her thoughts grouped themselves about Duvai—the trae, brave, graceful soldier devoted to her father, ; As yet, Fanchette had not guessed that this devotion sprang simply from love to herself. He is goou, he would help me, she theught, and while she thought the door opened, and a footman announced Mademoiselle Schnell, and thereupon there entered an odd figure of an ola lady wrapped about in shawls and warm plaids. She wore a large outlandish felt hat on her head. sans countess went up to her and embraced her on each cheek. “The very person I want, I have longed for, the very one, the very one!’’ cried the old creature, absolutely chuckling with delight. “Oh, my good mademoiselle, [ thought | had a sweet, docile child to place under your care, that you might explain to her the beauties of obe- dience to her elders; but now I have a little tartar, a little tyrané, a little rebel to confide to your keeping. Ah, look at her, look at her!” And here the stern eyes of the old countess actually moistened as though she were about to weep, but she had never been seen to shed tears within men’s memory. “She is beautiful, she is lovable, but she is false, false at heart! She has deceived me, Mademoiselle Schnell, re bas met a lover, a clandestine lover, in the shrub- ery! To describe the horrified surprise with which this news was received passes the power of the writer of this story. Mademoiselle Scnnell took off her felt hat and long vail, and disclosed a fair though withered old face, with a color on each cheek like the bloom of a winter apple. It was an bonest face, but the expression was of a firmness which bordered upon severity. “Your ladyship does not surely, surely mean that?’ she oe clasping her hands, still covered with thick white gloves. “Yes, I repeat it!’ cried the countess. ‘How she met with him I Know not; she would not tell me.?? “You would not ask me, grandmamma!’’ cried Fun- chette, indignantly. “Captain Daval is aa Indian officer and a gentleman, but to me he is nothing more than a messenger from another person.” “Good Heavens!’ cried the countess; “this is worse, worse, worse! Girl, girl, you are abandoned; you de- serve a dungeon, chains, the rack, only in the puling days such punisnments shock the milksops who would have vice go unscourged. Two centuries back a daughter of your race, who had forgotten maiden shame so far, who had met one lover and another deputy, would have been walled up alive; they do those things abroad now. Take care, take care where you are going to—it is the base ia he a French blood, the mnkeeper’s blood showing n her The old lady of the castle was now perfectly infuriate, she brandished her gold-headed cane and walked about the room in her rich brocade, looking like an ancient fairy of weird and evil prowess, Tbe two oid women talked to the beautiful girl until her heart sank and her courage flagged. She dared not betray her father’s whereabouts, she felt she had no right to do this; she resolved with a noble heroism to endure all their cruel reproaches rather than bring any trouble upon his whitened head. Mademoiselle Schnell turned upon her severely as she led her out of the room: , “No, Lady Fanchette,’’ said the old German, in her deep gutteral voice, which sounded like a man’s. ‘You need not look about for a servant to light me, I know my way about. I spent many years of my youth in this castle, Your English governess leaves to-morrow.” Fanchette had been accustomed all her life to the ar- rivals and the departures of her grandmother’s friends, visitors, dependents, without notice. She never knew who was coming or who was going, or the wherefore or why _ anything connected with Lady Kendale’s arrange- ments. She had known nothing whatever of Evangeline Stan- field’s visit until she saw the beautiful giri dressed for dinner, but the sudden departure of her kind governess struck her like a violent blow. She paused on the enor- mous stone staircase, holding by the gilded raiiings. ‘Not going. without saying good-by 7”? she asked. “Yes,”? replied the old German, sternly. “She has not exercised that proper authority which was her duty, and Lady Kendale is displeased.”’ Old mademoiselle then led Fanchette to her room, which was a large and lofty one. It contained a bed, with a canopy of green silk, ornamented with gold leaves, chairs and couches of the same, furniture of oak, elaborately carven, a polished floor, with a rich Turkey carpet in the centre. A fire burnt in the large grate. Fanchette sank down on & couch before it and began to weep. . “Tears are idle, idle, idle,’ cried old mademoiselle, severely. “I shall have to see that you dry them, Lady Fanchette, and compose youtself, and behave like.a lady of the nobility should behave, 1am to be your instruc- tress, and you are to obey In all things until you are placed under the care of the Mother Superior in the Con- vent of St. Annunciata. You will not dine downstairs to- nay; you will dine in the small room, the satin-wood and crimson parlor. But nowsmeoth your hair, bathe your face. You need not change your dress; indeed, with all the vanities of life you have done for ever.” Fanchetie lowered rae, ga moment. Then suddenly * springing to her feet, she furned upon mademoiselle a face eloquent with indignation, hot with anger, large eyes flashing pride, resolve, and scornful fire upon the astonished old lady. c oF , “I will never, never, neyer enter a convent, madam,” she said; “I have told my grandmother so to-night—all the powers on earth shall net compelme, I renounce the vail now, at once, and forever.” Old mademoiselle had taken off her mantle and wraps, and sbe stood in her brown velveteen traveling dress in the full blaze of the fire, looking the incarnation of straight-laced indignation and h d surprise. “What, what, what!? she said. ‘But it is useless to talk with you. 1 perceive, indeed, the truth; it is the inn- keeper’s daughter living again im herchild. But now listen to me awnile, -Fanchette. It is useless to quarrel with fate and the wil! of iven.”? : “Itis pot the will of Heaven!’ cried Fanchette, ‘or He would not let me feel so indignantly the cruelty of this ac- tion. Sarat cy ctei cag “No; it is Satan who fills you with rebellion,” cried Meaecnoiete Schnell. “Now listev, obey, and follow my rule.” i The old creature raised her thick. finger as she spoke, and pointed it at Fancnette us though she had been cor- recting a refractory cpild. ~ : “1 have had spirits quite as rebellious as yours to deal with in my time, Lady shette, and I always conquer- edthem. Take off your mantle, smooth your hair, bathe yourswollen eyes!” > tit “Nay,” cried Fanchette, poe, to a sudden access of horror at the prospect of tie fate whicn menaced her. “1 cannot, I will not—I will run Awuy—I had rather sweep a crossing, I had rather sell matches; 1 tell youl will not remain here!’ ; And she fled toward the door.» What was her terror to find it locked and bolted, and then old Miss Schnell told her, Smiling, that she had the key in her poc fely, and that every precaution had been taken below to pre- vent tye escape of the beautiful rebel. es ‘anchette’s brain burnt, her heart beat fo suffocation, she piaaped her hands tightly, and called upon Heaven to aid her in her situation of misery. © Miss Schnell could not persuade her to compose her- self; she lay upon the couch and sobbed herself into hy- stericsof-an alarming mature. At last the old lady was forced:to conféss that shé bad met with a spirit equal to ber own. Sue tried salts, burnt feathers, sprinkling with water; then she called the servants, and finally, Fanchette was undressed and placed in bed, The stern old countess came up to see her, and her hard heart beat faster when she bebeld the beautiful flushed 1 an oO O n | ss ry " Qa "ti ) 2 '- the trees were stripped of their leaves, the first snow sprinkled upon the ground, and Christmas-day.drew near at hand, while village cinluren sang carols in rich men’s halis, 2nd good housewives made meir mincemeat. Then, just about the beginning of December, she came back to life and re@¥on, wit» ath derful look of beauty in her splepdid eyes, almost as of one who has looked into an- other world. “Who are you?” she said to a beautiful face which she found benuing over hers. “Evangeline Stanfield!" was the answer. “An! | thought Ihad seén you before,’ said Fanchette, the puzzled look passing out of her eyes. “Now tell me, is that old Woman gone, Miss Schnell?” she asked of Evangeline. “Oh, the doctor ordered her from the room, you scream- ed 80 whenever she Came nevr you.”? “fam glad he ordered ber from the room,’ cried Fan- chette. ‘1 am never golngiuto a convent,’? and then she sank off into a pleasantsleep. Meanwonile how had it sped with the earl and Duval? News of the serious illness of the young ludy at the cas- tle reached tnis anxious pir. The earl recovered in afew days, and then he and Du- val quite haunted the environs of the castle, looking out for news. Their agony and anxiety were terrible, but when, in the ‘first days of December, they heard of the partial recovery of Fancbette, they took heart again. Tie landlady of the Kenuale Arms was delighted to have such good lodgers. One day she entered the bar- parlor in amaze. i “Did you ever hear teliof such a thing, gentlemen?” she exclaimed. ‘Why, that. strange old body, her lady- ship the countess, is not going to spend Christmas at nome? The day after to-morrow she starts with the sweet invalid, Lady Fanchette, and the young lady visitor, for Paris; and they say when her ladyship is a little recover- ed, she is to be putin aconvent all the same, although her illness arose quite from fear of a conventual }ife.”” The ear), Who was lingering over his coffee, looked up with a wild expression of dismay on his face. He gave some inditf-rent reply to the landiady. but when she was gohe, he excizimed to Duyal, who bent pensively on the cnimney-piece: “We must save her at all risks. Wemust carry her off by force. Work, Doval, work,’’ added the earl, speaking now ip the Wiluest excitement, ‘‘and I promise you, on my faith a8 an earl, on my honor as a gentleman, that I Will do all I can to induce my child to give you her hand Marriage when she shall be old epough,’? added the rearl, after a pause, “wpen she shall have graced, for some twelvemonths or so, the home, small but refined, which [ will prepare for her with me—only work to free her from the chains and fetters of the most cruel tyrant that ever disgraced the name of woman.” “With Heaven’s help {will succeed,’”’ said Duval, fer- vently; “only our plans must be wary, wise, and cau- tious.’ All that day and the next Duval haunted the environs of thepark. He attempted no disguise in his attire. Rumors of the handsome young gentleman who was staying in the village through sheer love of Fanchette were rife among the servants. They ali pitied tim, their sympathies were all his, and consequently during those first bleak days of December, when the eariy snows sprinkled the well-swept gravel paths, and the woods wore alrosty rim in the red blush of the morning light, Duval wanvered about the grounds wrapped in his mili- tary cloak, asking news of everybody who crossed his path. That day passed, and the next. On the third, while Duval, with a letter from the earl to his daughter buttoned into the pocket of his under-waist- coat, wandered up and downon the skirtsof a little frosted wood, Which glist-néd in the beams of. the morn- ing san like a crown of brijliants, he heard the loud rum- ble of a heavy carriage crunching on the gravel. To rush to the edge of the woud was his first impulse, and then he saw the large traveling-coach of my lady, the countess, The top of it was loaded with luggage. There were four gray norses harnessed toit. A coachman, ip a great pow- dered wig, held the reins and Slashed the whip in the air. Two footmen in scarlet livery sat behind. It was the great coach of the old countess proceeding in state to the coast, for her ladysiip never traveled, un- less positively compelled, in a railway carriage. Duval hid in the wood while this carriage rolled past. Oue window was down, and lie perceived four ladies, two very old and two very young. All at, once the bead of Fanchette, enveloped in a blue satin travelipg-hood, was put out of the window. At sight of her beauty, the heart of the young man leaped wildly. How pale she had grown, and yet whata sweet rosy color leaped into her cheek at sight of Duval! He ventured to doff his large felt hat, and she waved her hand, She made a sign to him which the eye of love was quick to interpret, that her friend inside was writing the name of their place of destination, and that soon she would throw the address through the window. Where- upon the lover followed the carriage at a rapid pace; the footmen saw him and pitied him, they saw the beautiful face of their young lady thrust now and anon through the window. : Duval watched—watched to see the letter drop, waited with his eyes, his soul, his whole being; but while he waited he ran, ran, ran, desperately. The carriage passed out of the great gates, then sud- denly the sky became overcast, and presently large flakes of snow fell, obscuring from his sight the carriage, and the lovely head in the blue satin hood. Had a letter fal- len, or had no letter dropped there before nim, mingling with the snow ? Then the head was withdrawn—he knew that the glass window was shut. What use for him to think of a paper with the address being flung tohim now? No, he must follow, follow on the wheels of that fast-retreating car- riage, which moves likea spot of black and scarlet through the white snoy storm. He does not know for which coast town it is bound, or he would turn back and make for the nearest railway. So he follows, follows, follows, until his breath begins to fail, his head swims, he totters, and sits at last crouching upon the ground, trying to recover sense and sight—for the snow has blinded him. Hehas run for an hour at the top of his speed, and he feels with passionate regret that for a time his strength is exhausted. CHAPTER XII, “Revenge is sweet, is sweet ! But it 1s a sweet poison.”—MAREHAM, It was close to the New Year, the time when Paris is gayest, fullest of visitors, splendors, carriages, balls, din- ners, opera singers—all the delights of the world and the flesh—and, alas, of the devil, too, if we are to believe the sad records of crime in great cities. The Earl of Chesterton and his lovely bride had re- turned from Rome for the winter, and had taken up their abode ina magnificent mansion in the Champs Elysees, which was the property of the earl. He was very fond of France, and he had bought this palace-like residence, furnished it regardless of expense, and now intended showing his exquisite taste in the choice of a wife at the splendid cotrt of the Tuileries. He threw his honse open ey balls, 7etes, and dinners of the most gorgeous descrip- on. When the snow fell and the lake in the Bois de Boulogne was frozen, he drove to the scene with his beautiful bride in a carriage of dark blue, lined and cushioned with maroon velvet. Claribel descended, dressed entirely in a suit of white ermine, a short skirt looped with enormous ruby buttons of fabulous value, a jacket and cap of the same, all orna- mented with the like sparkling gems. Claribel, with this Polish costume, wore also skates, and wonderful. boots which had cost five guineas without the skates. All the skating took place by torchlight on that frozen lake. The nobles of Russia, Italy, England, Germany, and France were present. Among them Claribel was the loveliest, the most brilliant, the most witty, also the most graceful skater. Her husband, bluff, red-faced, many years older than herself, was overlooked in spite of his wealth by reason of the marvelous beauty. Crowds followed her about to watch her. She flirted gracefully with princes, with prime ministers, with cflicers. She knew how to skate quadrilles and other dances, and all that she did, she did to perfection. There were a group of students near the borders of the lake, scholars of the school of medicine, and in with these mingled a group of artists, poor, proud, gifted. All these youths, shabbily clad, but reckless, laughter-loving, merry, were smoking their cigars by torchight, and makipg remarks on the lovely women and iordly men who formed the chiefs of the assemblage. ; When Claribel, executing a Polish dance with a certain Austrian duke, came close to this group of poor students, aaa of enthusiastic admiration broke from their ips. “What a queen!’ said one. “What a divine face!’ cried another. “An angel!” exclaimed a third. “4 devil!” roared another, in a tone so savage that the light-hearted students stared in amaze. It was one of the artists who spoke, an Englishman talking French correctly, but with a strong foreign ac- cent. “A devil—a demon! Under those blush-rose cheeks and liquid eyes there isconcealed the network of a plot- ting and subtle brain; under the exqvisite fitting of the ermine bodice, which detines the delicate and rounded form so finely, there beats a heart cruel as Nerv’s; the fluid which runs in those blue veins »nd warms those White limbs is not human blood, but fluid distilled from the flames of Tophet—a blue fire’ whicn she calls blue blood. She is not a woman but a devil!’ : The youpg man who spoke tiiese mad words wore good clothes, but they were thrown on recklessly, witl no re- gurd to appearance; lis dark mustache and thick black hair seemed untrimmed and, uncared for. His face was remarkably handsome, grand aud faultless in outline, but haggard, desperate in expression. “Ma foi!” said one poor student to another. ‘Who is that handsome garcon, with the wild eyes and the fiuely- arched nostrils ?”? rane ; “He is an artist,” was the rejoinder; “he lives in a gar- ret, on the sixth fluor, in a tall house near the church of Notre Dame. He paints in the Louvre; be also paints at the same class where I study from living models. Hecan sing and Swear and gambie with anybody. If you ask hm what his plans are, be snaps his fingers and tells you he is going to tie devil as: fast as he can. Sometimes he arinks, not trom love of it but to drown Care, as lie says. Then he remains in his garret ana suddenly turns oul, as he has done to-night, wiid as an luuian, reckless as a moss-trooper, Savuge asa bandit, That beautiful En- grish counress mist have jilted him at somte time, al- though how he could ever have been thrown in ner way is a puzzle to me.’?) ‘ Claribel finally took off her skates, and was assisted in- to her splendid carriuge by a hanvsome Russian officer. As she Sank amid toe luxurious cushions she lieard a voice hissing in the crowd. She looked. up, but could distin- guisb nobody. iMag Tne wild artist had bidden himself. She drove back to her splendid mansion, and_ after making @ magnificent toilette of pink Satin aud dla- monds, she was driven to a ballat the Austrian Am- bassador’s, Where she reigned the star aud queen of the night. ed ball, and Lauy Chesterton went, accompanied by her, husband. . She wore a petticoat of crimson Lyens velvet, over that a short skirt of black satin, flowered with gold. The bo- dice was of the same rich black satin, fluwered with gold. On ner head she wore a Marie Siuart cap of gold lace and diamunds, anda large black domino hid her face. She was not known among the splendid throng in those splendid rooms, where the walls were hung with violet satin, flowered with gold, and where the clocks ana tables and chairs were ail of black polished ebony, Inlaid with gold anu jewelled mosaic: There were winter gardens of flowering shrubs; there was a@ banquet hall where every dish and goblet was of gold. Tne Russians are the only people of Europe who emu- laie the magnificence of the Aravian Tales in their houses, their fetes, their dresses. ' Tne bands of music played airs which seemed borrowed from some Paradise of the Peris. Claribel saw a young man approach ber in a black domino. He bowed low to her, and asked her to dance. He spoke French with a foreign accent. Sne supposed that nobody would be atthe Ambassador’s ball wuom she might not dance with. she rather admired the figure of this domino. She copsented to stand up with him in the waltz. -Ste felt his arm encircle her waist so tightly, So Savagely, thatsbe could scarcely breathe, ana she ul- tered an exclamation of indignant surprise. “Pardon, madam,” said the domino, respectfully, “the rudeness was involuntary.” Claribel did not wisn fora seene. She therefore con- sented to waitz with the unkpown. As she wept round rapidly to the sound of the delicious music, she became al at once aware that her senses were leaving her. The lignts, tne gold, the jewels, flushed : efore her eyes in a confused blaze of color. A faint and sickly perfume per- vaded the air. Tpen all seemed dark, and she felt herself lifted into strong arms, and carried along helpless. {To be Continued.) The Josh Billings Papers. GNATS. { dont kno az i think it iz a very difficult thing tew be a good injun up in heaven, but tew cum down here and be & good Injun, iz just Whare the tite spot cums in. Forgivipg ovr enemys haz the same refreshing effekt upon our souls az it duz tew confess our sins. What a lamentable cuss man iz, he pittys hiz nabors, misfortunes, bi calling them judgements from heaven, Wize men go thru this world a% boys go tew bed in the dark, whistling tew shorten the distance. “The gods help them who help thnemselfs.?? Upon the same principle mankind praze tlhoze who praze them- selfs. Falling in love iz like falling into mollassiss, sweet but dreadful dobby. Hunters and gamblers are poor ekonemists, they kill time, a’species ov game that kant be reproduced. Good breeding bai ov avoiding familiarity, and at the same time making the company satisfied with you and pleazed with themse!fs. Tew be pappy—take things az they cum, and let them go jist az they cum. It takes @ grate deal of money tew make @ man ritch, but it don’t take but little virtew. It iz the little things ov this life that plague us— Muskeeters are plenty, elephants skarse. What an agreeable world this would be tew liv in if we could pump all the pride and selfishness out ovit! It would improve it az much az taking the fire and brim- stun out ov the other world. Don’t mistake plezzure for, happiness; it iz entirely a different breed ovy.dogs. Thare is a grae deal ov ex- quisitt plezzure in happiness, but thare iz a grate deal ov plezzure that haz no happiness in it, Thare iz only one thing that i kan think ov now, that i like to see idleness in, and that iz, in mollassiss—i want mi mollassiss slo and eazy. Experience haz the same effekt 0n most folks that age haz on @ goose, it makes them tuffer. “Sewing Sosietys’’ are generally places whare the wim- mip meet to rip and so—up the naberhood. A lazy man 1Z one who haz no time to spare; an indus- trious man 1Z one who haz more time to spare than he knows what to do with. It takes asmart man to conceal from others what he don’t kno. A lazy Man alwus works harder than a bizzy one—the hardest work i kno ov, iz to grunt—it iz haruer tew set still, and fite flies, thanitiztew git up and escape from them. The next night the Russian Ambassador gave a mask- |..° ‘ are sped who controls hiz pashuns sits at the helm ov iz ship. It iz very diffikult tew kalkulate upon suckcess, unless aman sets up for a phool—in this department. i hav anes ft hundreds to succeed, contrary tew their expekta- shuns. I don’t want enny better evidence that a man iz a phool than tew see him cultivate excentricitys, The man who kan conceal hiz real karakter when he iz drunk, or in a pashion, haz got a giant Karakter, Ihave found out that happiness konsists in working bizzy 12 hours, sleeping 8 hours, and playing checkures 4 hours, out OV every 24, Mankind loves misterys—a hole in the ground, excites more wonder than a Star in the heavans. “Experience iz a good schoolmaster,” but reason iza better one, A Pedant iz a lernt phool—pedantry iz a little knowl- edge on parade—pedantry iz hypocrasy, without enny malice in it. All the good men in this world hav got the e kind Ov religion, it iz only the ded beats, frauds, and hypokrits, whoze religion differs, _ Pride iz a looking-glass, into which men look, and see- on themselfs, they strut, and stick up their noze at other ‘OlKs. How on arth kan we trust man kind, or woman kind, we thare aint one out ov ten ov them, dare trust them- selfs. Thare iz 2 kinds ov Faith, faith ov the brains, this tz nothing more than shrewdness—and faith ov the heart, this iz humility, haff sister to virtew. : Yu will notis one thing, all good talkers are good lis- eners. Adversity iz a goddess with frozen smiles. If [had the privilege ov making the Eleventh Com- mandment, it would be this—owe no man. Young ones and dogs!—thoze who are the least able to support them, generally hav the most ov them. ; Sum folks, az they gro older, gro wizer; but most folks { simply gro stubbornner. } People travel to learn; most ov them (before they start) should learn to travel. i I don’t beleave in fighting; i am solemly aginst it; but | ifa man gits teu fighting,i am aiso solemly aginst hia { | } j gitting licked. After a ght iz once opened, all the vir- tew thare iz in it iz tew lick the othr party. Slander iz like the tin kittle tied to a dorg’s tale—a very good kind ov kittle, so long az it ain’t our dorg’s tale. THE | Locksmith of Lyons: THE WEAVERS’ WAR. By HOWARD W. MACY, AUTHOR OF “THE BANKER OF CHICAGO.” “Locksmith of Lyons” was commenced in No. 18. Back num- bers can be obtained from any News Agent throughout the United States. ——— CHAPTER XV BARBE ROUSSEAU AND MAMMA GRIMO. After an interval of silence, during which the old physi- cian continued to stare ut the face of the artisan, and the artisan at the physician with a smile of bitterness frozen asitwere upon his lips, Antoine, the footman, a tall, grave, gray-haired man, advanced respectfully, and ad- dressing the artisan, said: “Monsieur, it is true that the brand is there, and so it is here upon my shoulder, but you and J, who were branded at the same time, upon the same charge, know that we were innocent.’ “Ah, my good Antoine,’ replied the artisan, ‘‘the ver- dict of the jury declared us to be guilty, and the brand we have, It does not matter that you and 1, up to the time We were arrested for a crime of which neither of us had ever dreamed, had led quiet and blameless lives. We Were convicted and condemned, and served three yearsin the galieys of Tovlon. That fact is indisputable.” _ “Come,” said Dr. Planche, recovering from his dismay. “T do not know that it is necessary to inform La Mothier of that‘tact.”? “Ah, doctor, you cannot advise me to conceal it from him |’ exclaimed the artisan. “You are 100 morbidly chivalrous,” said the doctor, taking a pinch of snoff, with a very discontented air. “Here, we must sleep upon this matter, do you hear? In the first place, though those wounds of yours are not se- rious, you have lost much blood. You must bave repose. In the second place, the girl may not be the vhild of Gene- rai La Mothier. lam = sure she is no relative of those wretches, but thatis no proof that she is the child of Henri La Mothier—who, by the way, is recently my next door neignbor, though personally he is not an acquaint- ance. Now let Antoine conduct you to the apartments you always occupy when you remain in my house. In the morning, if you are in fit condition, we will talk this matter over. Here, l have prepared this drink for you. Now dismiss from your ming everything except a desire to sleep. There—not anotner word. Good night.’ But im the mornjng the arusa» was not in a.condition to converse sensibly upon any subject. In facta high fever was upon him, and he was deliious. This fever and de- lirium lasted three days, during which time he was not allowed to be seen by any one, except tne doctor and the footman Antoine. Blanche, much alarmed for the safety of her lover, re- mained in the apartments of Madam Planche, the amia- ble and Kind-hearted wile of the benevolent doctor. , _.To her entreaties tobe permitted to wait upon her ‘lover, Madam Planche warned by the doctor, replied: ‘He is delirious. Already it requires a strong man to Keep bim in bed. The mere sight of you might be fatal to him.’ “An, but I love him so dearly,’’ pleaded Blanclie; ‘and fwe aré betrothed. Iknow he adores me as I adore “ * “Heisa very worthy young man,’’? was the reply of Madaine*Planche, ‘‘and I am sure you, my poor child, are very good and worthy tvo. Itis very right that you and he should love each other, but you and he must pe sepa- rated for a few days. I will give you something to em- ploy your mind. Wehave a wardrobe to make up lor you. I have been obliged to put on you a dress of my oOwn—and is it not a world too large? Leave Monsicur George to the doctor and Antoine. Antoine isan od and faithful friend of the young man. Antoine is 2 Swiss, and has known Monsieur George ever since she latter was a baby. There is a mystery about that, and i vo not know that it willever be cleared up. Becontent to remam with meas if you were my daughter. | bave sent for many varieties of stuits, and for two dvessmakers, so that “Dressmakers for me}? exclaimed Blanche. “I have always made my own dresses, with very little help from Mamma Grimo.”? “Oh, my dear child,” said Madam Pianche, ‘never speak of that wretched old woman agzin. You are to forget her forever. Itis very wellthat you should know how to make your own dresses—in fact, I have a pity for ail the ladies who cannot—but it is not necessary now, and those who are rich should delight in giving work to the industrious poor. I was not always rich, my child. I aud my dear husband were quite poor when we married. But he rose to be a great physician, ang some of his dis- coveries and inventions have made hima man of great wealtii. He is much wiser than lamin many things— not inall. But here comes Janet with a load of linen, silk, musiin and other stulf. Come, let us select.’? With a sad heart Blanche complied, thinking only of her wounded lover and the many mysteries around her— mnysteries which she could not fathom, but which declared that she was never again to toil like a slave at the loom of Manima Grimo. ; Once the old doctor peeped into his wife’s sitting-room, and seeing Blanche surrounded by silks, satis, linens, muslins, and dressmakers, hurried away, muttering: “Oh, she will have enough to think about. Now I will set the police after those vindictive snake-charmers! My faith, the snake-charmers shall also have something to think about—so shall the police of Lyons.’? But the worthy doctor soon found that the police of Lyons already had a great deal to think about. They were preparing for an expected and very-iiucli-dreaded Insurrection of weavers. Nobody could say when the outbreak would begin, nor where. But everybody seem- ed to Know that an insurrection was to be eve long, and that it was to be a terrible one, worse than that of 1881. In truth, ic Was almost as much as a policeman’s life was worth to venture into the disturbed suburbs of La Croix Rousse, Fuurvier, or Brotteaux. The authorities, mind- ful of the dreauiul scenes of the insurrection of 1831, were ‘intimidated us they heard the mutterings of the coming storm. “The confederacies of workmen and politicians,” says the history of that time and place, ‘were a species of a state within a state, and through the channels of the journals boldly defied the laws and the national author- uiies. Such was the daring character of the conspirators, that twenty master weavers addressed a Jetter to the con- ductor of prosecutions, declaring themselves also mem- bers of the executive council. The weavers as a body passed resolutions to resist the laws.’ Under these circumstances Dr. Planche found that the intimidated police had something more important to think about than a few outlaws, The doctor, however, found among the police an old acquaintance whom he had known in Paris, and this man promised to effect the arrest of some, if not all three, within a few days, and also to keep lis eye upon the movements of Captain Hasserbrek. With this promise the doctor was forced to remain con- tent. Still he made private inquiries as regards Hasserbrek. He was glad to learn that Hasserbrek was corfined to his bed by his hurts, and that he bid fair 10 remain there for a week at least. Returning home the doctor devoted his attention to the welfare of the artisan, aiter dispatching this note to the authorities in Paris:— | “There is going to be an insurrection in Lyons as for- | midable at least as that of November, 1831. It may not take place for several weeks, but it is certain to be, unless a very large force of the National Guard of Paris is sent here at once to maintain and encourage the affrighted authori- | ties of Lyons, Several members of the infamous band | ence potorious in Paris as ‘The Snake-charmers,’ are here. The chief of them, Barbe Rousseau, under the sob- riquet of ‘The Baked Crab,’ is the prime instigator of these disturbances, and aims even to subvert the dynasty of Louis Phillipe. Two of his old associates, and the most dangerous, are with him—Le Scorpion, and Lisette, —_ ‘The Owl.’ If the intended insurrection be not nipped in the bud, it will be terrible, and may extend to otner cit- saiamasi o~ ies. Fortunately there is no great and capable spirit among the disaffected. Barbe Rousseau isthe most for- midable, and he is a man who ever permits his passions to blind his prudence. He is incapable of conducting a revolution, which ne doubt he aspires to do, but he is very capable of doing a.great deal of mischief. He should be arrested immediately, but here the civil authorities are feeble and affrighted. In 1831 the National Guard of Lyons aided the rioters. They are scarcely to be depend- ed on now, ALPHONSE ABAT.”’ Alphonse Abat was the name by whicn Dr. Planche had once been well Known in Paris. While the artisan was ill the footman Coulot, reported to his master, General Mothier, thus; “The locksmith, Lackville, nas disappeared from La Croix Rousse. That is, his shop has not been opened since the day we saw him beating the officer of the Na- tional Guard.” “That is unfortunate,” replied La Mothier,” as I am im- patient to converse with the young man.” “The woman called Mamma Grimo, and the girl she called her niece, have also disappeared.” “That is still more unfortunate,” said the general. ‘It was by chance that I learned the old woman was in Ly- ons, and now, as she may be on her guard, I. may never find her again. As for the girl, she is no object of inter- est to me, though the young locksmith imagined so.” “She is a very beautiful girl, my general.” “That may be. I have never seen her. Shecannot be very beautiful in my mind if she is the neice of that infa- mous old woman, the sister of the assassin who destroy- ed the life of my harmless babe,”’ said the general, frown- ing as he thought of the past. “The girlhas always oeen regarded as a most inno- cent, artless and virtuous maiden,’ remarked Coulot Andre; “and the most enviousin La Croix Rousse have never breathed a slander agaist her.”’ “J am pleased to learn this if only for the sake of the oung locksmith, who has something about him strange- y attractiveto me. And what of that fellow they call ‘The Baked Crab?” “He is doubtless somewhere in Lyons, general, but I have not been able to find him, as lam not 4 member of the association of weavers, among whom he has great in- fluence. “Then I must, for the present, give up the hopes I had of regaining certain important papers which that old- woman stolefrom my housé many yearsago,’’ said La Mothier, sadly. ‘But do not relinquish your efforts, Coulot, to discover the hiding place of the woman,”’ Meanwhile, Le Scorpion, concealed in an obscure quar- ter of La Croix Rousse, nursed his wounds—that of his ruined eye being exceedingly painful and hard to heal. “Wait,” was-the advice of Barbe Rousseau, both to him and Mamma Grimo, who was furious to regain control of Blanche, “wait patiently. The timeis not far off when you shall again have.the girl, Those with whom she is cannot suspect that she is ‘the daughter of Henri La Mothier. The house into which the locksmith led her is ever under the eyes of my spies. If she ever ventures in- to the street she wiil be seized.’ “Oh, as we know where she is, why can we not go and demand her as my niece?’ cried Mamma Grimo, who had, by the advice of her brother, changed her abode. “Do you know who that Dr. Charles Planche is, Lis- ette 2”? “Some friend of that rascally locksmith.”’ “A very powerful friend,” sneered Barbe Rousseau. “I have discovered who heis, He is Dr. Alphonse Abat.’? On hearuiz this, Mamma Grimo began to tremble and stare. “The man who baffled us all, yonder, in Paris ?’’ “The same. The physician who ventured in disguise into a secret meeting of our circle, learnt all our secrets, denounced us to the police, caused nearly all our society to be executed, and, in fine, broke up ‘Tie Snake Charm- ers,’ and drove us into exile to save our heads—after es- caping our daggers. Oh, he is not a simpleton! It was he, no doubt, who so deseribed each of us to this Robert Lackville, that the latter—himself no simpleton—at once recognized us.. It isnot time to go to Dr. Planche and demand the girl; but the time is not far ofl when we shall go there and take her by force. Wait. I do not see why you snatched the babe of La Mothier from the river into which I had cast it,” “Ag for that, it is easily told.. You had just cheated me of my share in the La Mothier burglary. Barbe Rousseau and I hated you; you hated La Motnier; and when I saw you running toward the Pont Neuf, declaring that since the father had escaped you, you were about to drown the child, Iran after you ad saved it, without your know- ledge, or that of any one else. I knew La Mothier would giadly give all his wealth to regain his child. But the pursuit set in motion by that fellow, Abat, forced me to fly from France, taking the child with me. And when, years after, | ventured to return to France, believing you to be dead yonder in Hungary, and Le Scorpion also dead somewhere, La Motnier was not in France. He was in Africa, in the army. Sol walted, and years passed on. No one recognized me, thanks to the dose of poison you gave me, just before you and Le Scorpion left France. I, who was once so enormously fat, had become a mere skeleton. Oh, you and he imagined I was dead when you left me, face down, on the table, after our parting supper.”’ ; “Pooh! I did not put poison in your wine,’’ said her brother. ‘Le Scorpion did it, ifanybody. The fact is, | do not think you were poisoned. You had a fit of indi- gestion.” : The old woman, who was ten years older than her vil- lainous brother, glared savagely at him, as he laughed coarsely in her face, and snarled: “I was poisoned. You know it. And if you did not do it, you knew Le Scorpion was going to do it, and perhaps saw him do it. Rascals! you both wished to be rid of me. You thought I was dead. You were so sure of it that you never returned to the house to inquire.”’ “Oh, we had no time, the police were after us.”’ “If they were why did they not find me? I was in that house a week after you left. Ha! so was the child of La Mothier’s in the care of a woman I had employed.” “All that is past now. We are to be friends and allies. again.” " ; : “Yes, because you hope to share the money which La Mothier will give to me if I regain the girl and prove her to be his child.” “Why not? since without my aid you can never regain the girl.”’ . “And without meit cannot be proved that the girl is the child of La Mothier.”’ A “Therefore you and I, my dearly beloved sister, must necessarily be firm and true friends.”’ “‘¥ wish I had known that Henri La Mothier had return- ed to France,”? snapped the old woman. “I only wish I had suspected he was in this city.” ° “Then you could have made a magnificent bargain,” laughed Barbe Rousseau, mockingly. ‘But you see it was not to be. The girl is out of your hands now, and if you make a stir in the matter it may come out that she is La Mothier’s child. You say that the locksmith accused you of having stolen her.” “Oh, that has often been said by others,’’ replied the old woman, spitefully. “And only because Blanche has mueh beauty and innocence, and I have not a relic of mine. But I heed not their tongues. Ihave seen mothers as ugly as sin, have lovely daugiters. La Mothier should be very grateful to me.” “Oh—very!”? “J mean it. I could have made her a thief.” “That is very probable.”’ “Besides, but forme she would have drowned like a kitten in the river.”’ “Very true, amiable old saint. I drink your health and long lifeto you. It was a most virtuous rescue, and done to spite me, your loving brother. Had I been there strug- gling in the water, you would have done the same for me,” said Barbe Rousseau, jeeringly. ‘“‘La Mothier should be very grateful to me,”’ continued Mamma Grimo, meditatively; “I reared her in a most pious manner.”’ “For which you deserve great credit. It must have been very hard work for you to preach piety! But you had a worthy objectin view. It would not have suited ou to have done with the child asI would. I hated La fothier—I loved the woman he married,’ said Barbe Rousseau, witha savage oath. “I loved Leola de Vale.’ “Bah! what madness in you it was to love a beautiful lady of her character!’ cackled Mamma Grimo, mocking- ly, in her turn. “| was a merchant’s son, she was but a merchant’s daughter,” growled the ruffian. ‘She had no nobier blood in her veins thanI. Am 1 not of the family of the great Barons de Rousseau? I was a fair matci for her.” “Oh, what vanity! with that beautiful face, that figure, that pleasant infirmity, which as you get excited, | am reminded you pussess,’’ cackled the delighted old woman, “holding her nose. Barbe Rousseau discharged an oath at her, which only increased her merriment, and made her cackle all the louder; whereupon he hurled a tumbler at her head in great wrath. “Take care! If youhad hit me,” screamed the old wo- man, infuriated by the humming of the glass as it nar- rowly missed her head. “I have another sting ready.” “I care nothing for your knife, if it is poisoned,” said Barbe Rousseau, with a wary glance, however, at the glittering blade the old woman had drawn. “There, let us be friends—but do not again allude to my infirmity. Let us speak of La Mothier, whom [ hate as bitterly as ever. If the woman he married had married me, I might have been a great man, as great as he is. If the child had been reared by me, I would have reared her to dis- grace the very name of La Mothier. As it is, it is best ee the girl is pure and spotless; but no credit to you for at. ‘And why not ?”’ “Because you knew La Mothier would rather pay you & million francs and regain his child as pure from sin as when he lost her, than pay a sous and regain her a vic- lous thief! It was simply a speculation with you.” “Perhaps it was, in the beginning,’? muttered the old woman, ‘‘but I learned to love the girl, as muchas I could ever learn to love a human being.” “Come, you forget the worthy Le Scorpion—the gay husband of your youth,’’ said her brother, tauntingly. “That was a marriage of convenience, you fool. I al- ways detested Le Scorpion—iong before he gained that name which becomes him so well. Isuppose he is to share the reward of all my trouble, all my foresight—the wretch.” “Why not? Heisavaluable fellow. We shall need him. I want to pit him against the locksmith, Thatlock- smith is a formidable fellow—very popular in La Croix Rousse, although he tells the weavers an outbreak will bring only calamity upon them. Do you know that the fellow used to be a galerien ?” “Oh ! a galerien! I knew he had two names—Lack- ville jand Herbert—but that is very common. A gale- ! basted Lackville yonder in the galleys at Tonlon—in fact. that he branded him. Hasserbrek knows more about the locksmith than he is ready to tell.” “Oh! and | suppose that rascal, Hasserbrek, whom I[al- ways suspected of being a spy upon us yonder in Paris, is also to share the reward of my labors !”’ snarled Mamma Grimo. ‘Oh, if I haa only known that Henri La Mothier had come to Lyons,’? exclaimed the old woman, in a fury. ‘Then would I have alone received all the pay. He is worth millions. Sheis his only child, and to regain her—oh | he would pay me down half of all he is worth. Curse the luck.” 7 “J am very sorry Itold you, La Mothier isin Lyons. I am afraid it will make you very pious,’’ said Barbe Rous- seau, rising. ‘How do you like this room, eh?” “This room? Why it is a very good room, for that mat- ter, though too high up for me. There is only one win- dow in it.” “Less chance for thieves to get at that dear chest on which you are setting, my sister,’’ said Barbe Rousseau, now at the door, from the great lock of which he slyly slipped the key into his sleeve. , “] am very sorry that I did not know Henri La Mothier was in Lyons,” repeated Mamma Grimo, shaking her head. ‘l could: have managed it.’ “I am afraid you are getting pious, and thinking of do- ing a virtuous action on your own hook,” said her broth- er, now outside of the door, the door nearly closed and his ugly head thrust into theroom. At this Mamma Grimo started violently, and glared at Barbe Rousseau. eee “What do you mean, you plotter?” — ig “Are you thinking of taking a sly trip at night to No. 145 Place Bellecour, my dear Lisette?” “You are a fool.’’ “J would be to trust you, my dear,”’ cried Barbe Rous- seau, who then slammed the door and had it locked on the outside in an instant. “Stars of light! He has locked me up!’’ screamed Mamma Grimo, flying at the door, and trying in vain to open it. “Oh, are you there my divine Lisette,’ sneered Barbe Rousseau, at the key-hole. : “What does this mean, you ruffian,” replied the enrag- ed old woman, peating the door with her fists. “I am afraid you had an idea,”’ “Anideal Let meout. How dare you lock me up?’’ ‘Patience, my dear one,you shall have company, if you feel sorely. I have provided for that,’’ “You intend to make me a prisoner, you traitor ?”’ “Such is true, my dear sister. You have an intention, a little plot of your own in your dear old head.” “You are a wretch!’’ screamed Mamma Grimo, beating at the door with her fists and heels. Why should I have any plot of myown. Tell me that?” Here Mamma Grimo rained such a storm of fury and yells at the door that Barbe Rousseau, on the outside, danced with laughter, shouting: “Keep that up, it amuses me. Hal ho! it amuses me.’’ Perceiving that he was so amused, Mamma Grimo ceas- ed to hammer on the door. “Good. You are Jistening in there.” “T am listening, rascal.”’ “You meant to play me a fine trick, my dear sister, I saw it beamingin those beautiful eyes of yours—those lovely eyes which look different ways. You had a design to go to the general, and make a magnificent bargain for yourself. Patience—look under your bed, and you will finda trap-door. It opens into theroom below. When you wish to converse go there.”? Mamma Grimo darted at the bed, drew it aside and saw an iron ring, apparently affixed to a trap-door. “Oh, what a fool | was to trust Barbe Rousseau,’’ she exclaimed, as she lifted this trap-door and glared down into the opening. CHAPTER XVI. AN UNHOLY DIVISION OF SPOILS. Mamma Grimo, clinging with both hands to the edges of the opening, and lying upon her breast, elengated her lean neck, so as to thrust her head as far as possible into the room below. A glance told her thatits floor had been totally removed, no doubt by bits and fragments from time to time, by the poverty- smitten people who had ree occupied that part of the house.. On the floor of the second room beneath was a table, upon which a lamp was burning, though it was daylight with- ou There had been two windows in the upper and now floorless room, but Mamma Grimo saw that both were boarded up, and securely fastened against egress. There were also two windows in the lower room, both small and heavily shuttered. The floor of the upper room being destroyed the two rooms were, there- fore, made one, with a very lotty ceiling—the ceiling wherein was the trap-door, through which Mamma Grimo was now glaring. ‘ It was full twenty-five feet from the trap to the floor of the lowerroom. Unless a stout pair of wings, or a strong rope-lad- der were given Mamma Grimo, it was not probable that she could reach the lower room. ; Besides, at the table, on which burned the lamp, a man was seated, smoking a very long pipe. On'the table, also, were bot- tles, glasses, and the remains of a savory repas!. ; “Hal you, down there!” cried the old woman, hailing the man below. ‘Who are you?” The man, whose figure was wrapped in a flashy-looking smoking-gown, and one of whose eyes was concealed by a ban- dage, looked up and glared back at Mamma Grimo with one eye. las he glared he grinned mockingly. , “Ho! Itis Le Scorpion!” exclaimed Mamma Grimo, recog- nizing him. | i “At your service, my dear,’’ sneered Le Scorpion. as near as I wish to be to you.” “Why are youthere at all fox ?” “Oh, I am here to recover from my wounds. My eye pains me horribly. I miss also the fiveexcellent teeth I lost. I am, in short, recuperating, to be of use in_ the campaign our dear Barbe Rosseau has in view. Besides, Iam here to be near my dear Lisette.” ; “You are, then, my jailor?” “Only one of them.” You forget Barbe Rousseau.” “And how long am I to be kept locked up and guarded by you two villains?’ demanded Mamma Grimo, in a rage. “Who can tell? Perhaps but a day or two. Perhaps a month. As for that, perhaps all your life. You intended to betray us. At least you intended to make terms for yourself with the gen- eral. We saw that in your face the other night when we spoke together after our long separation, in Rue st. Denis. Even - serbrek suspected it.” : “Hasserbrek! fran had better euspest him.” ~ “We are sure of him. Besides, hecan prove nothing. He has only a suspicion. You have some proots in that chest of yours.” “You might have robbed me of the chest, or have killed me, as easily as you have made me aprisoner, Le Scorpion.” “That is very trve, my love, but you are mucn more valuable tous alive than the contents of the chest would be were you dead.” : “And itisthus you keep the oath we all took together the other night—the oath torenew the circle of ‘the snake-charm- ers,’ and to share alike.” : “The Snake-charmers’ are of the past,’’ sneered Le Scor- pion. “That will do for the present. You know you are a pri- soner now.”’ “My curse upon all of you!” screamed Mamma Grimo. Le Scorpion retaliated with a volley of oaths and jeers. The old woman exhausted herself in upbraidings, petitious and mal- edictions, and then, c osing the trap-door, began an examina- tion of her prison—tor such she bad no doubt her room was des- tined to be. d At the end of half an hour she sat down, convinced that she was securely locked up. In her rage she wept; she even shed tears, a thing she bad not done for years. Then she burst into a storm of curses at herself for having eonfessed to Barbe Rousseau that Blanche was the child or Henri and Leola La Mothier. After that, sue cursed the lock- smith who had rescued Blanche. Then raising the trap-docr, she rained down a deluge of wrath at Le Scorpion. At a.l of which Le Scorpion laughed and jeered by turns. : “I know what I will do,” finally cried the old woman. ‘I will destroy the papers I know are valuable to La Mothier. I will burn up the dress and_ everything that was on the child when I dragged it trom the Seine.”’ “Well, do it!’? shouted Le Scorpion. Mamma Grimo rushed to her chest and unlocked it. It had a deep tray, in which she kept her linen. She removed this tray, the contents of which were as usual. __ nder this tray was another. She found thisas she had last seen il, the hour before. ; Under this was a small box, in which, under lock and key. she had preserved a small bundle of clothes—that which Blanche told the artisan she had once seen, and thought a bundle of in- fant’s clothes. vibra Mamma Grtmo, quivering with a blind fury which had no purpose except to destroy the bundle, opened the small box. She stared. The box was empty! There was a secret recep- tacle in the bottom of the box, in which Mamma Grimo kept a certain aa ot papers and parchments. She found that alsoempty. The clothes and other articles which she had taken from the child immediately after rescuing it from the Seine, and the valuable La Mothier papers and documents were one!l. £ Mamma Grimo, perceiving this loss, fell flat on her face, and howled. Her cry was like the how! of a wounded she-wolf. As this cry rang trom her lips, another cry came ringing up through the open trap-door. This cry wasa hoot, a yellot de- light from Le Scorpion, who had_contrived to rob the chest while it was being removed from Rue St. Denis. The robbery was very cleverly executed, as we will pause to relate. When Mamma Grimo, atter her conference with Le Scorpion, and Barbe Rousseau and Esark Hasserbrek, consented to leave her quarters in Rae St. Denis, she resolved not to allow the ehest to be taken out of her sight. And it was not. It wascarried down to the street by two stout fellows, with Mamma Grimo’s hands on it all the time, and ae inanopen wagon. Intothis wagon got Barbe Rousseau, e Scorpion, Mamma Grimo and the driver. The driver sat on the front seat. On the middle seat, which was simply a stout board resting on the edges of the wagon-sides, sat Barbe Rous- seau and MammaGrimo. Behind this seat, lying down upon the floor of the wagon, rode Le Scorpion, who kept up a dismal groanive, f Ww. the burden was: “Oh, my eye ' eye!” E And this groan greatly delighted Mamma Grimo, who would have been still better pleased to listen to tne dying groans of Le Scorpion, The chest, so precious to her, rested upon one of its sides—upon its front side,in fact, between her seat and that of the driver, and her feet and ankles rested upon the edge of the lidof the chest, toward the driver. The bottom of the chest was under the board on which she and Barbe Rousseau sat. As the bottom of the chest was fastened to the sides with screws, over the heads of which ed thin hoops of iron, it was necessary to remove the hoo) ‘reach the screws. This Le Scorpion readily did with the burglar tools he always car- ried about him. At the same time, Barbe Rousseau, who knew what his contederate desired to do, and whose feet and ankles were also across the top and edge of the lid, slyly fretted the chest more and more under the boar}, thus gradually causing an elevation of Mamma Grimo’s knees, without exciting her suspicions. Working swiftly and adroitly Le Scorpion removed _ the bot- tom of the chest, and took out the box. He knew that box very well, though it had not been in his hands for years. He remem- bered that when he lived with his wite she always kept the raemes in that box, which was studded with small brass no In a moment he had opened the box, taken out the bundle—of the value of which he had a suspicion—the package of docu- ments, and a large stocking stuffed with-gold coin and costly gems—the latter the hoards of the miserly old woman. Ail these he concealed ina rear corner of the wagon under some old rags. Then having returned the box to the chest, he tastened in the bottom, and crowded by the severed iron hoops over the heads of the screws. During all this burglarious work he did not cease to groan and “It is just cry: “Oh, my eye! oh, my eye!’ which groaning, with the clatter of the wagon wheels over the rough stones, concealed all the very slight noise he made in his labor. Atthe same time, Barbe Rousseau kept the attention of Mam- ma Grimo upon himself in a brisk and exciting conversation. _ In the removal of the chest from the wagon, and in convey- ing il to the room designed for Mamma Grimo’s occupancy, Le Scorpion and Barbe Rousseau s0 Managed it that she did not de- tect what had been done. — “Tam anything I am paid to be,” growled the old man. last le of ‘The ‘up andIam in his ser i been robbed, until, as we have seen, she rushed at it ina fury to destroy a part of its suppesed contents. _ Hearing the exulting yells of Le Scorpion, Mamma Grimo hur- ried again to the trap-door, and glared down at him. At the same moment Barbe Rousseau entered the room below, and both he and his confederate cried out, jeeringly: “We drink health and resignation to our dearly beloved, who has lost something from her chest.” “My gold! my savings! My honest earnings !’’ gasped Mam- ma Grimo, who now whined in a most piteous tone. ‘For the love of Heaven, do not rob me of all my savings.”’ “Oh,” said Le Scorpion, as he opened a drawer of the table and took trom it along stocking, the foot, and nearly all the leg of which were stuffed with gold coins and gems. ‘‘Is this not a noble sausage ?” * m Wea RO he sitammed the precious stocking heavily upon he table. “A Royal Bologna!” cried Barbe Rousseau, patting the cor- pulent stocking, and leering up at the wretched old woman. “It is mine! mine, all is my own!’’ screamed Mamma Gri- mo, lying flat on the floor above, and streiching both arms to- ward the table, her long, lean fingers grappling and pawing in the air. “It is mine, robbers! give it to me. Throw it upto me. Itis mine!” “Tt was. Now it is our’s!’? sneered Le Scorpion. “Come, Barbe let us share my dear wife’s personal estate.” So saying, he laid open the stocking with a single stroke of a carving knife. ~ “Oh! what a tat goose!’ cried Barbe Rousseau, as the coin and jewels spread about over the table. Then he and Le Scor- pion began to separate the mass into equal heaps. Whereupon Mamma Grimo crept trom the trap-door and knell in the middle of the room, and lifting her shaking hands toward Heaven took an oath. How she kept that oath, and what it was, is yet to be told. Rising at length from her Knees she crept back tothe trap- eect, apatle to resist the desire to see the division of her Jost wealth. Le Scorpion and his confederate who had delayed makin this division purposely that Mamma Grimo should be torturec by beholding it, had each upon his side of the table a glittermg pile, pe value of which each was estimating with paper and pencil. “‘Itis very easy to divide the gold,” said Barbe Rousseau, with his pencil between his teeth. ‘But how about the gems? Some are much more valuable than others which appear finez. There are diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls and sapphires.” cane both gold and gems are mine,” said Le Scorpion. ‘Bah!’ “TI meanit AmTI notthe husband of the worthy lady up there. By law allis mine.” | “Oh!” thought Mamma Grimo, “if the devil will only stir them up to cut each other’s throats over it!” “Come, that is nonsense,” said Barbe Russeau in reply to his comrade. ‘But for me you would never have put your hand on a coin of her money. Let us divide the gems as we have the gold—into two equal heaps—one for each He will be the luck- iest that chances to gel the most valuable.” “So let it be,” replied Le Scorpion. all the jewels.’ This was done, and then they tossed fe a coin for the first choice. Le Scorpion won. “I take this diamond,” said he, se- lecting a very large one set in a gold ring. 4 “And I this cluster of diamonds,’ said Barbe Rousseau, select- ing with care. And thus they continued until all the gems were shared out. Y “Thieves!” screamed Mamm* Grimo, unable longer to hold her peace. “You leave me nothing!” Yes, we leave you something,” Jaughed Le Scorpion, holding up the empty stocking. “We leave you this!”’ At this taunt the o'd woman again threw herself upon her knees, lifted her wrinkled hands to Heaven, and repeated the vow she had made. After this she threw herself upon the bed and dreamed or vengence. “ While dreaming of vengeance she sank into sleep from ex- haustion of mind and body. hen she awoke another day had begun. Remembering her loss and her position she uttered a cry of rage and ran to the irap-door, which she had lett open. _ Le Secrpion, curled up like a sleeping centipede on the bed in the room below, was snoring. There was another person in the room, seated at the table from which all signs of the robbed stocking had been removed. True, che empty stocking lay upon the floor, and Mamma Grimo’s eyes sparkled with rage as she recognized it. Gazing at the man seated at the table she saw that he was not Barbe Rousseau, but a man with a very bald head—in fact, a head with not a hair on it. “On!” cried Mamma Grimo, recognizing this head. The face of the bald head instantly turned up, a very hard, surly old face, with deep-seated eyes, that glared like two coals of fire. A glance showed that this was the face of an old sot; a fellow who lived only to drink. “Ho! Papa Canton!” said the old woman, as this man looked up. ‘What are you doing there?” “While he sleeps I watch,” replied old Canton, jerking a “First make one heap of thumb toward Le Scorpion. ae are one of the jailors, are you, Papa Canton?” asked ma Grimo, with a sneer and a frown. sees ‘The money I got for selling my shop to that young locksmith did not jong, so I came Dack to Lyons. I wanted to see the inside olden Loom’ again. ‘The Golden Loom’ is my para- dise on earth. So I came back, and that rascal on wheels, that fellow Fanfan, orderea me out as soon ashe found I had no ney. Luck of mine! I have spent a fortune at his bar. The ungrateful hound! just then an old friend of mine—we call him ‘The Admiral’ in The Golaen Loom ” “Oh, I know who you mean .”? muttered Mamma Grimo. “You other.”’ , you know,outside. Well, he came to see that you do not escape, ene om chance you have I can’t imagine. Are you 1ungry : “Hungry? Why do you ask?” “Because, if you are, just l*tdown a cord and I willtiea basket of provisions to 1t and you can haul it up.” “Oh! and is it inthat manner that I am to be fed?” cried the amazed old woman. “Certainly,” replied Le Scorpion, who was now awake. aa why must my, food not be delivered to me at the door of y room?”* ; “A scratch from that knife of yours might give death to the opener of the door, and liberty to you, my dove,’ replied Le Scorpion. ‘so, when you want food or drink, lower tbe twine you will find somewhere up there, and your wants will be at- ten to.”? “And I’ll starve before I do that!” screamed Mamma Grimo. ‘Very well. I have no object'ons,”’ replied Le Scorpion, turn- ing over on his bed, and composing his long, wiry legs tor an- other nap. Having now disposed of Mamma Grimo for the present, and leaving her in prison, letws rgnqryi ine arus (To be continued.) - Pleasaut Paragraphs. YVICMMS OF IGNORANCE. he Away down in the bogs of Uld Erin there Awelt, Not many yeare since, a Lg burly old Cee Wao was up in the world imtive matter of peif, For a rainy day safely laid up on the shelf. This burly old codger three sturdy sons had, The smallest of whom was a bouncing big lad, Whose altitude any beholder wonld fix, In his stocking feet, readily, six feet and six. Now Mickey, the elder, was anxious these sons Should rise up in the world like some noted guns, And had purposed to give them a boost in a college As a finishing touch to a gentleman’s knowledge. But, as yet, not a word of the Saxon they knew, When to this great project attention he drew, While, too niggard to give them first lessons in schoo He played sharp to the penny; to the pound a big fool. ' “Go forth, this fine morning,’’ he said unto each, “Transfer to the tongue what the keen ear can reach; For you know, on vour advent to college, the youth, Ir you know naught of Saxon, will deem you uncouth.” Then ou‘ward they sped, with a filial compliance; For, in him they ali had an unshaken reliance; And, with energy, pressing the object in view, R-turned with their lessons, as night onward drew. All night did they practice that learned in the day, And when morning approached, sto!e forth to display Three phrases like these, well leerned to the letter: “We three,” ‘Purse of money,” The sooner the better.” By accident passing right close to the spot Where lay the sad victim of murderous plot, They engaged in their gibberish Gaelic, [ ween, Tilla rider approaching the trio Was seen. “Hallol” cried the stranger, approaching them near, “You've the victim of murder, I see, lying here! And permit me to ask’’—as he reined up his steed— “Who purposed and practiced so awful a deed?” All eager to answer him in the same tongue, The leader sung oat at the top of his lung: “We three !’’ while the stranger stood strangely aghast. “And for what did you thus!”’ ne asked them at last. ‘Purse of money!” the second cried, eager to show How much of the Saxon he happened to know; While the stranger, more staggered their boldness tosee, Looked sharp for some path of escape thence to flee. “But know you not, sirs, that as sure as you’re catched, "Tween the earth and the heavens you'll early be stretched?” But the third capped the climax, when, full to the letter, He loudly broke out with—‘‘The sooner the better!” We'll suppose, for a minute, they fully atoned On the gallows the crime so frankly they owned; For we know, in that country the laws are severe, And would swing without mercy one proven so clear. Then the moral is plain, as, concluding, we bring That adage, that tells what a dangerous thing Is a little of learning; for it leads one to error, While depth of lore only is true wealth toits sharer. JOSEPH PLACKETT. A BASHFUL BENEDICK. S—— was a small country, village, boasting of but two church- es, a Metnoaist and a Pres yierian. The latter had the most aristocratic congregation, but was ar to many changes ot clergymen. On one occasion they had recently settled a young minis:er, and were well pleased with him; but as it was his first pastoral charge, he had not learned to keep secret the con- fidential affairs of his congregation. Among his members was a young farmer, who lived afew miles from the village, and who had long been meditating matrimony, and everything was in readiness for thatimportant event, But he was exceedingly bashfu!, and had not the courage to speak to the minister about performing the ceremony, although he had already made sev- eral trips to the village on that special business. At last he gath- ered courage and went one evening to the parsonage, and look- ing through the window, saw the reverend gentleman sitting alone, so he rang the bell and was ushcred in by the domestic. After conversing upon the weather—that never failing topic— the crops, &c., he told the minister that he desired his services on the following Thursday evening toperform the marriage cer- emony. The minister replied that he would be at the residence at the appointed time. The visitor immediately arose to go. and turning to the minister, said: “Well, that is a big load off my stomach!’ It was toogood a joke, and the clergman told it at the village store, greatly to the amusement of his hearers, Maup CARROLL. : AUNT PHEBE'S MISTAKE. ; Away up in the old Granite State, under the western shadows of one of tnose eternal hills, that render the scenery of that State so rictu jue, lives Aunt Phebe. With her very diminutive figure, Quaker-like dress, and bon- net, herhair whitened by more than seveniy winters. Aunt Phebe isa bright and shining light in the Methodist Church, in her town. Now, the worldly possessions of Aunt Phebe, and her invalid husband, were not great, but the choicest, most cherished, and petted, was their horse. Billy was one of those docile, gentle animals, that under no at exterior appear- ance, conceal no small amount of speed and bottom. One quiet Sabbath morning, Aunt Phebe was wending her way behind Billy, up to the house of worship, to attend the quarterly meeting, musing by the way, on the beatitudes of the approaching love feast, and quoting to herself appropriate seripture texts. Behind her jogged one of her neighbors tound for the same destination. In a neighboring town, at that time, was stationed a dandy- sort of clergyman, whom we wili call Parson D. He was a reat horse fancier, and was aiways in possession of a fast orse, indeed, be was so noted for ee ee ae: that many of e driving his fast horse, in company of the presiding elder of his circuit, were on their way to officiate at the quarterly meeting, to which Aunt Phebe was bound. Being somewhat late, and in haste, when they overtook Aunt Phebe’s neighbor, who was in hearing distance of Aunt Phebe, Parson D. politely asked permission to pass them, which was graciously permitted Overtaking Aunt Phebe, Parson D thinking from her unpre- tending appearance, that was unnecessary to ask leave, endeav ed to pass her at full speed. This uncivil conduct, roused Aunt Phebe’s ire, and all the “old Adam,” concealed in her breast,broke forth winapbaaty, and she resolved they should not pass her, and applying the lash to Billy, he did some tall traveling—neck and neck with the parson’s nag, until Billy’ssuperior speed compelled the parson to slink back into the rear. This roused the parson’s ambition, and at the next favorable stretch in the road he attempted again to pass her with no bet- ter success than before. Hestill persisted in the attempt, until the presiding elder begged of brother D. to renounce racing horses on the Sabbath day. Aunt Phebe, triumphantly leading, dashed up to the church. After securing Billy, she entered the chureh-porch and there discovered our two clergymen. She excitedly inquired of an acquaintance, pornrins them out, who those two drunken rowdies were, Who had been trying to run by her all the way to church, Fancy her surprise and chagrin when informed of their true character. ARY. % TRICKING A TOBACCO-CHEWER. _ Acertain old lawyer, well known in the town of C—,, is an inveterate tobacco chewer, and is careless ofthe manner m which he distributes his expectorations. He had trequently called at our house, and his visits were marked by sundry dirty spots on our carpet. On one occasion, when he had calied upon us to settie an estate in which my father was interested, he placed his hat under his chair. Determined to tmck him for his previous conduct in soiling our carpet, I quietly drew his hat (which was filled with sundry legal documents) from under the chair, and placed it on that spot beside him which he seem- ed most to favor with his tobacco juice. When he arose to go, and found his papers and hat deluged with streams of brown juice, his disgust was depicted on his countenance. After that he was more particular in spitting, and always took care that his hat was not in the way. _ Sis. COULDN'T SEE IT. In Erie, Pa., there is an elderly gentleman who, until recent- ly, was much annoyed by visits from life insurance agents, One day an agent named Wilson called upon him, and in a glib manner commenced enumerating the advantages of insuring in a trustworthy company. ‘““What’s the use ofinsuring my lite?’ said Mr. B. “IfI die it won’t do me any good. I can’tsee the sense of it. ; Wilson then proceeded to tell him that in case of his death his wife would receive the amount for which he insured,and would thus be placed beyond the reach of want. On hearing this, Mr. B. became furious, and shouted, “Oh, that’s your game is it? Well, wouldn’t bea pretty fool to be making things comfortable for my wife’s second husband ? Just atter insuring I’d be certain almost to getsick, and die. Then my wife would go among her neighbors, and brag about the money she had received from hypo company, some other blast- ed fool hearing of her good luck, would propose and marry her; then he would take her on his Knee, and kiss her, and jaugh over my stupidity wnile they were spending my money; and I would be compelled to lie in my grave, like a derned fool, un- able to say a word.” MauprE ELLiInGwoop. CUTTINGS AND SLASHINGS, 4 Memory is auiite fickle. And our experience is that with many persons it fails very rapidly, after securing the loan of a dollar or two. All are at liberty to try the experiment. Mew Sick IN THE Arr.—A congressional debate between a brace of felinesin front of the house: time, 12 o’clock at night. We are always peaceably disposed toward them, asthe crock- eryware on the sidewalk shows next morning. A man held down by a bruin was heard to say that he thought the conduct of his opponent was overbearing. Gorye To Bricguton.—Getting ready to polish the tinware. A Town Pump.—That eternal busy-body, the inquisitive. The way some women cuff their children, one would natural- ly be led to suppose that they were partial to ear-rings. A DanGerovus CountEeRFEIT.—A thief disguised as a gentleman. The Rey. Mr. Hepworth saysevery household has its skeleton. We think he would have said ‘‘many,’’ if he had looked into some of the ladies’ wardrobes. The head of the family—a spoiled child. } DETERMINED TO DIE WITH A DRY HEAD. | Joe Check was considered the softest young man in L—n. One day as a party of young men were Pa the bridge over the stream they heard a commotion in the water. They all ran down to the water’s edge and there beheld Joe struggling in the water with a life preserver around his neck. He was soon res- cued, when he told the pitiful’ tale that his love had been re- jected by a fair damsel, and he resolved to seek a watery grave and used the preserver to keep his head dry. SNORKEY, JR. Nur Sep. CHIPS. What is the most active member of your body? The nose of course, for it runs until it drops. ‘A hatter in Chatham street advertises to press your hat while you wait for 50 cents. A gold pen maker only charges a dollar for mending a pen, and if it breaks he'll make it good for nothing. “Tsay Smith, how is it that you and Jones are friends?” rown of an acquaintance, an undertaker. “Well you know I buried his wife a month ago.” On what day of the month would a general be likely to order his troops to advance? March 4th. J. G. La Rog, Jr. ENLARGEMENT OF THE HEART There isa grocer in Saugeriies, who was formerly employed in the Ulster Iron Works, but was compelled to quit work on account of ill-health. Sometime ago a man whom we will call Mike, entered the store for the purpose of purchasing some rebaceo. The grocer was very parucular about weighing the obacco, taking out the last pinch. en Mike asked him what the doctor said was the matter with him: “nlargement of the heart,’ answered the grocer. “By gob,” said Mike, ‘‘I think you had better change your toctor. e doesn’t understand your disease at_all. I think it is smaller your heartis getting.” Hokey Days. NOT THE FIRST MULE. An Englishman, on a visit to the Alps, took with him a muie- leer toguide him over a dangerous pass which overhung a deep chasm. When they had reached the brink of the preci- pice the guide suddenly turned round and shouted, ‘‘Take care of yourself here, and hold in your animal well. If you tumbled ‘over, you wouldn’t be the first mule that was lost in this spot.’ HOW TO KILL AN OWL, When you discover one in atree, and find that he is looking at you, move quickly round the tree a number of times. The owl, forgetting the necessity of moving its body with its head, will follow you with its eyes until its rings its head off. W. D. A. PIMPLES ON THE FACE. — Comedones, Black-Heads, Flesh’ Worms or Grubs, Pimply “ruptions and Blotehed disfigurations cn the Face. originate rom a Suppressed and are ‘ by PERRY'S CO NE AND PIMPLE REMEDY, It tones the Skin, opens the pores, exudes morbid Secretions and contains no Lead poison. . repared only by DR. B, C. PERRY Bond street, New York. Sold by all Druggists. Send for circular. wi5-13t AMERICAN (WALTHAM) WATCHES. TO Buyers of Watches Everywhere! The greater part of the jewelers of the United States keep Waltham Watches, and cordially recommend them to their customers, notwithstanding the fact that less profit is made on these watches than on any others gen- erally sold by the trade. The reason of this is, that the reputation of the Waltham Watch renders it an easy sale, and the result is, that, although the dealer does not make as much money on each individual watch as he may on the sale of other watches, he is still the gainer through larger and livelier sales. There are some, however, among the trade, who do not give the Waltham Watch that hearty support which it deserves. This portion of the trade fancy there is more money to be made by deal- ing in watches about which the public are ignorant, and in which there is less competition, and are content to make an occasional sale of such watches at a large profit. It is this class of dealers who, when asked about Waltham Watches, use that kind of language which leads the cus- tomer finally to buy just such a watch as is the most pro- fitable for the dealer to sell. For the information of persons about to buy a watch, and who may be unfavorably aifected by the representa- tions of those unfriendly to our watches, we call atten- tion to the following suggestions: Since the manufacture of watches was initiated at Wal- tham, the Company have made and sold about 450,000 watches. In every town and village of the country some wearer of a Waltham Watch may be found. Let the party about to buy ask this owner of an American Watch this question: HAS YOUR WATCH GIVEN YOU SATISFACTION ? We are not afraid to advise those wishing to buy a watch to guide themselves by the answer. Being satis- fied as to the quality of the watch, the buyer has now only to satisfy himself that the Waltham Watches are THE CHEAPEST as well asthe best. On this head we have a few words to say: Itis a well known fact in manufacturing, that the greater the number of articles manufactured by one es- tablishment, the smaller will be the cost of each individ- ual articie. Keeping this in view, our policy has always been to sell our products at the lowest possible price in order to secure large sales, and thus enable us to manu- facture watches at a minimum cost. WE BELIEVE IN SMALL PROFITS AND A LARGE BUSINESS. This pol- icy we have successfully carried out, and the result is, that to-day we manufacture twice as many watches as all the other factories in the United States put together. We can, therefore, afford to sell Cheaper than they do, and actually do sell Twenty-five per cent. Cheaper than they do, quality for quality. We would further remark that in increasing our pro- duct we have constantly improved its QUALITY AND ITS VARIETY. We have had the refusal of nearly all inven- tions intended to improve time-pieces, and have adopted all those, and those only, which have proved to be really valuable. We have retained in our employment every head of a department we have ever had, whose services were of any importance to the Company, and our present corps of designers and master mechanics cannot be equaled in this or any other country. In addition to this we make gold and silver cases, not only for our own movements, but for those of other factories, ours being the only establishment that turns out watches complete in every respect. , As these watches are for sale by the trade generally throughout the United States, and at a retail profit made most reasonable by competition, the Company invariably decline orders of a retail character. ROBBINS & APPLETON, Gen’l Agents. ——mesy THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. #=- ———— ‘The Hand of Heaven Medicated the Seltzer Spring. Men discovered its priceless vir- tues. Chemistry analyzed it,and now reproduces it in the twinkling of an eye from TARRANT'S ErreRvESCENT SELTZER APERIENT. The moment the powder is liquified, every curative and refreshing element of the original Spa foams and dances in the pene and on: biliousness, constipation, fever and nes eons take flight under the operationof the delightful raugh SOLD BY ALL DRUGGISTS, w24-lt CURRINE. The Best Seasoning Ever Introduced, To be Appreciated it Must be Tried Indorsed and recommended by all the leading hotels, restau- Jants and private families, including the METROPOLITAN, ASTOR, ALBEMARLE, DELAVAN, BROOKLYN CLUB, &c.. &c. » Price 50 ceuts per quarter pound. All parties purchasing atin and not liking it willhave their money refunded by their Frveeeer the manufacturer. w24-1t G. DE CORDOVA, 62 William St., N. Y. g & TO $20.—IMITATION GOLD WATCHES.—JOHN FOGGAN, o fgnpor try 79 Nassau street, N. Y. Send for circular. w24-13t : HISKERS, MUSTACHE O8 HAIR WARRANTED TO 3 grow on man or boy in 21 days or money reiunded. Sent free for 50 cents. Address EK. H. COLVIN, Hadleys’ Station, Illinois, w24-lt i TOOLS IN ONE.—POCKET RULE, RULER, SQUARE; Bevel, Screw-Driver, Chisel, Compasses, Scissors, Button- ra a hole Cutter, Paper Knife, Eraser and Pencil Sharpener.’ Agents wanted, male and female. Sam- ; ple (Polished Steel) by mail, with terms to agents, 50 cents; Silver-plated, $1; Gold do., Ad- dress COMBINATION TOOL CO., 95 Mercer street, New York. w24-2teow_ SYCHOMANCY, FASCINATION, OR SOUL- Charming. 400 pages; cloth. This wonderful book hi full instructions to enable the reader to fascinate oir sex, or any animal, at will. Mesmerism, Spiritualism, and hundreds of other curious experiments. 10 cents. It can be obtained by sending address, with postage, to T. W. EVANS & CO.. 41 S. Eighth St.. Philadelphia. w46-.Lfeow. NSWERS TO MANY INQUIRERS.—DR. E. B. FOOTE A \ithor of “MEDICAL COMMON SEXSE, PLAIN HOME TALK,” ete., formerly of 1130 Broadway, is permanently located at 120 Lexington Avenue, N. Y., where he may be consulted in person or by mail, in all difficult cases of chronic diseases. Oon- ultation free. wlX4t eow L IVORCES LEGALLY OBTAINED FROM THE Courts of different States. No publicity. Advice free. wl0-13t FRED’K I. KING, Counselor-at- THE NEW ARTICLE OF FOOD. For twenty-five cents you can buy of your Druggist or Grocer a package of Sea Moss Farine, manufactured from pure Irish Moss or Carrageen, which will make 16 quarts of Blane Mange, anda like quan- tity of Puddings, Custards, Creams, Charlotte Russe, &c. &c. It is by far the cheapest, healthiest and most delicious food in the world. Rand Sea Moss Farine Co., 53 Park “Place, N. Y. AEWRRORAEE — w, 363 Broadway PLANTATION BITTERS. S. T.—1860.—X. © This wonderful vegetable restorative is the sheet-anchor of the feeble and de- bilitated. Asa tonic and cordial for the aged and languid it has no equal among stomachics. Asa remedy for the nervous weakness to which women are especially subject, it is superseding every other stimulant. In all climates, tropical, tem- perate or frigid, it acts as a specific in every species of disorder which under- -tines the bodily strength and breaks Aown the animal spirits. Sold by all Druggists. i A SPLENDID PRIZE FOR THE LADIES! THE LARGEST AND FINEST STEEL ENGRAVING PUBLISHED IN THIS COUNTRY PRESENTED AS A PREMIUM TO THE SUBSCRIBERS TO DEMOREST’S MONTHLY MAGAZINE, Universally acknowledged the MODEL PARLOR MAGAZINE OF AMERICA. Demorest’s MontHty combines the only reliable Fashio: full-sized Patterns with Original Stories” Poems, Music, ae hold Matters, and other useful and entertaining Literature. This monthly is illustrated and printed in the highest style of art, and presents the most complete and useful Lady’s Magazine ever published. Yearly subscriptions only $3.00, with splendid pre- miums for clubs. Each subscriber at $3.00 will be presented with the most valuable and costly premium ever offered by any Publisher, being a large and fine line and stiple engraving—size 28 by 35 inches—entitled The Picnic on the Fourth of July. The engraving, just completed, cost over $7,000, and the cop- les are richly worth $10.00each. Postage on the engraving which is sent secured on a roller, 10 cents. Address, DEMOREST’S MONTHLY. 838 Broadway, N.Y. Specimen copies of the Magazine, with circulars, mailed free on receipt of 15 cents. w22-It For Moth Patches, Freckles & Tan. SE “PERRY'S MOTH AND FRECKLE LOTION.” - The only Reliable and Harmless Remedy known to Science for removing brown discolorations from the Face. Prepared only by Dr. B ERRY, 49 Bond St., N. Y¥ by Druggists 3t FREE! FREE! FREE! No charge will be made 1f DR. TOBIAS’ CELEBRATED VE- NETIAN LINIMENT does pot cure Chronic Rheumatism, Boke Throats, Mumps, and rm in the chest, limbs or back, when apphed externally, and Croup, Diarrhea, Dysentery, Colic, Sea- sickness, &c., internally. arranted to be perfectly safe to give or apply tothe youngest child. It has been 23 ‘years be- fore the public, and has never failed. Sold by all the D ists, at 50 cents and one dollar. W22-25-2831 DO YOUR OWN PRINTING, WITH A NOVELTY JOB PRINTING PRESS. The only low-priced press ever made that will do good work. No greater convenience can be added to any business office, and no more valuable means of advertising can be em- plowed than one of these presses and a few dollars’ worth of type. No more useful, entertaining or instruc- tive present can be made fo any bo than one of these presses and analt He would find it a ver PRI quantity of printing material. source of instruction, pleasure and profit. PRICE OF PR ES, $15, $30, $32, $50 Send for full descriptive illustrated cir- culars, with testimonials and specimens of printing, ty tor- ders, cuts, rules, &c., to BENJ. O. WOODS, roprietor, 351 F 1d. eral St., Boston, Mass. w22-4t HE COLLINS WATCH FAC- tory. The celebrated IMI- TATION GOLD HUNTING WATCHES, “Collins Metal” (Improved Oroide). These justly celebrated Watches bave been so thoroughly tested during the last four years,and their repu- tation for time and as imitations of Gold Watches is so well es- tablished as to require no rec- ommendations. They retain ‘heir color, and each one is fully guaranteed % aos cer- SSS = tificate. Prices: Full jeweled Patent Levers, $15. Equalin appearance and for time to gold ones costing $150. Those of extra fine finish, $20. Equaling a $200 gold watch. Also, an extra heavy, superbly finished and splendid watch at $25. This oe in apearance a $250 gold one. Allour watches are in hunting cases, ts’ and ladies’ sizes. Chains $2 to $8. Also, Jewelry of every kind, equal to gold, at one-tenth the price. “The Collins’ metal is the best imitation of gold we have seen."—WN. ¥. Tribune. “One of the $20 Watches is worn in our office, and we have no hesitation in recommending them. ’—Pomeroy’s Democrat. — TO CLUBS,.—Where Six Watches are ordered at one time, we send a Seventh Watch free. Goods.sent by express to all parts of the United States, to be paid for on delivery. C. E. CO & CO., No. 335 Broadway, New York. wi7-tf. AGENTS, READ THIS! We will pay agents a salary of $30 per week and expenses, or allow a large commission, to sell our new wonderful inventions. ; ae ; the wor}d’s peanle werg in doubt as to where the jocky od, ny “go Esark Hasserbrek declares. He says he hasoften' Thus the old woman did not suspect that the private box had ' and the parson began, fon that identical Sabbath Pason Dp. w22-1t i182 Broadway, N. ¥. wizist or re oanil, Michigap. — * RAND. RIE oh + NRE 1 hs Re a O ei ace maforsnere oma. wees pens SSRN = pees i i : t : { ' ~~ SSaeae bn ony rhe - a BEAUTIFUL SPRINGTIME. _ BY MRS. SOPHIA P. SNOW. Beautiful Springtime, welcome to thee! Child of the South-land, joyous and tree; At thy approaching, so cheerful and gay, Dreary old Winter hath hastened away. Streams that were sleeping so still in the plain, Now dashing onward, are seeking the main; _ Leaves on the maple come forth at thy breath— - Nature, rejoicing, is waking from death. Meadows are donning their mantle of green, Again by the lattice the robin is seen; Flowers in the woodlands and gardens appear, _ Some for the bridal and some for the bier. Where are the yoices that welcomed thee last ? _ Some again greet thee, as in the past; Others have strangely forgotten to sins, _ As they were wont to, thy praises, O Spring. _ ‘Beautiful Springtime, brief is thy reign Over the mouttain, the valley, the plain; . Soft winds of Summer will shorten thy stay— . Phou, with thy glory, must too pass away! er a2 bs ‘faithiul Margaret; Sleuth-Hound of Castle Brand BY ANNIE ASHMORE, Author of “The Bride Elect; or, the Doom of the Double es;” “Beautiful Rienzi; or, the Secret Ven- hs “detta,” etc. é tay Vit i & : if “Faithfyl Margaret" was commei ced in No. 11. Back numbers n tained from any News Agent throughout the United ates ee CHAPTER XXXI. “Circles and circles of brightening light breaking over me; a faint, but deli sense of comfort; aswift van- ishing of the d' ms Which have left me here u Dp fer dea a k vak ng. = é eee le} FPigcnee ‘that is bending over me? What soft bosom is this upon which my head is lying? “Have Ib iegea'at last tne chasm of mortality, and is this my fate in the immortal world? “J smile, if this be so, at the fdle fears of those who pro- phesied for meahell. This is heaven! What seraph is this, who is bearing me upon her bo-om after my fight with the throes of death? How soft and cool her hand we brow! her wings are folded close, and LD she will ne ‘away; herbréath waits my weary eyelids like the Zephyr born at the gates of Paradise. “It was worth that long battle with the writhing furies, who would have cha “me to Charon’s boat, midway in the awful river, to be stranded here within these ; ava? VISTAS re : S Mere g arms. | ret “O, spirit pure and tender! is this Christ-like care for me, at your king’s command?» Am I done with earth and sin, and ; ‘rest upon your hallowed heart? ‘Yes, tile Uark obscurity of earth no longer blinds me; | Iam ng the face of one who has gazed upon the In- carnate, and caught from Him beatitude past utterance. “How pure and above ali earthly beauty are these holy lineaments! the essence of eternal love seems to shed from these eyes upon my languid soul; her rich tresses seem enwreathed with beams from the Fount of Joy; f am dazzled with the vision!” jars? Tie worn, white face of the sick man sinks more heavily upon the gentle bosom, Which supports it; but there is a fixed smile upon the blue lips of wonder and of triumph; there are tears stealing from the eyes which have been darkly fixed upward; the trembling soul who has been looking into the Realm of Heaven, turns back at the yearning pressure of these arms, and new circles of brightening ligt and consciousness break over him, and St, Udo Brand looks up. . ‘A damp, cool perfume breathes around him, of flowers; he seems to be surrounded by these sweet comforters; flowers upon his breast, against his fevered face, upon his pillow; and soft arms are truly around him, and his neaa is lying upon the yielding breast of a woman. “How is it that-{am here ?”? ‘Did my darliag try to speak ?? - : “How strange! sheis then some one to whom I I am, indeed, im heaven, and this heavenly sera) be my guide and teacher. What made me su an instant that 1 was back to earth? = im dear. se for ; “It is somuch better than I deserve, pure spirit—so- much better?" 9! > .“‘Did:you say you felt better ?’’ “his vision 18 a woman! her heart seems bounding: with joy; she bends closer with asob of rapture—these holy eyes are dropping tears! = gck afl Len ting & & ——————————— ————— “What promise, dear love ?” “That you would never leave me. ber saying that?” : “What would you care forme, when you were strong and well ?”’ faiters the nurse, with quivering lips. The sick man tries to set his poor paralysed brain in thinking order at this contingency, but the effort is far beyond him, and he relapses, with an anxious sigh. | “J do not want to drift away and be pushed back into the cruel world I have left,’? he murmurs earnestly, “and it lies with you to keep me in this pure place. 1 lost you ages ago, you know; ages ago. when I was pure, and lov- ing as yourself, and see what I am now, for want of you, Perdita.”’ : 37 he. i “You will soon enough be glad to part from me again," answers the nurse, turning aside her swimming eyes, : _ “Must you go, Perdita? after your promise?” Don’t you remem- “I must go when I have ceased to make one. moment. en. lighter for you. I promised that I would stay until “Promise it again—you will stay until you Cease to be desired by me.” ! mern “Until 1 cease to be required by gee she amends, straining him to her yearning and foreboding heart. «] shall always require you,’’ says the sick man; with exultation; “I could not take one a this pure at- mosphere without you; oh, you don’t w how 1 shall hold to you, my lost Perdita.”’ So wandering on—dreaming on, he fancies she 1s. his lost good, which was dropped out of life long ago; that she personates the faith, the hope, the innocence of his early years, ere sin set the searing mark of death upon nis heart, and bitter wrongs stole fromhim his primal purity, and fused in the alembic of his burning hatred, all noble tendencies into bitter infidelity. And wandering on—dreaming on, day by day, drifting on from riotous fancy to feeble reason, he comes to know that there is a puzzle in the kindness of this woman, who, morning, noon and night cares for him, as woman never cared for him before, and grasping the puzzle at last, he looks at it with comprehending eyes. He will ask this tender, holy-faced watcher by his bed- side, why this heavenly care for him; perchance she is re- paying some former service of his, done in the days of health; for harsh St. Udo Brand has done his deeds of generous Kindness to the widows and orphans of his brave Vermont boys, and forgotten the acts, by scores. “Lady, why have you been so kind to me ?” “Wot kind—only just.” “The service which you thus repay must have been a great one. You have risked your life nursing me through this infectious plague; what have I ever done to you, that could merit such repayment ?’? : She has been fearing these questions for some days, and she has been clinging all the more fondly and pas- sionately to the sweet dream which she has never once in aliher passion of unselfish devotion dreamed could last. Again and again she has put aside the cruel end, for oh! she cannot give him up yet—her king! By the couch of deadly peril and pain, when his man- hood is low beneath the scowl of death; whenthe divin- ity of his intellect is swallowed up in frenzy; in his weak- ness and despondence, the most royal days of Margaret’s life have come to her, gold-tinged, and crowned with joy; the days-of her love. “You are not strong enough for this,’? she answers, | wistfully. fore you ask questions.” ‘“But’—a bewildered line is knotting the sick m brew, like the faint ripple on the glassy waters of stream—‘‘I have seen you before in such aiff ’ stances, and I would like to know where.” _ “IT am Perdita, you know,’ with an anxious “You met me in your delirium often enough, di remember ?”? 3 “Yes, yes—was that it? When did you find! “Three weeks ago. You were in the first st low fever. You would have died if G dentialiy sent me here in time.’ % “So strange that you should risk tender lady.” eae “It was a pleasure to me, sir. risk.” sid a : “The very physicians, from the scores, for fear of sharing their fate ‘ docters in the city for a fortni “Wait until you are a great deal stronger be- ¥ : who were brave enough to stay, and we had to take turns and do what we could foreach other. The very negroes could not be bought with money to stay with bs but fled, panic-stricken, and left us to die untended. Nineteen bodies were carried out of this house in one day, and the last I can remember before I crawled into this away from the groans to die, were the ghastly bo poor Major Hilton and the commandant of the forees lying waiting for removal. I held out longest, 3 to succumb at last. Itis so strange to wake up fro! at my bedside, breathing my poisoned breath, and woo- ing me from my companions’ fate with such devotion!” “A lovely lady’? How she glows over with surprised blushes and smiles. How she stoops again to catch the feeble accents and to read the upraised orbs. “Lovely! Yes, yes. More than lovely; better than beautiful. When 1 looked up from my dream of death J thought yours the face ofan angel. I think so still.” ‘Hush! hush! If you talk so wildly, dear, I shall think you are wandering again.” a : - “Lam not wandering, my Perdita. If ever I do, your beloved hand has but to touch mine and I will come back. Sometimes I have thought of late———” + waa 2 come back to earth and tind . some: one weeping of joy for me? © 0): 0): “Tell me’ who you-are ?”? is “You have whispered something again. 0, love, . are so faint andiweak tnatI can scarcely see your lips move! But I think you know me?” “No, noi ‘Llefs hosuch angel as you on earth when I die@#2: i ead iD “Do you sayno? Wait until I bring my ear close.” “No, Tell me.” ai #Don’t you know your nurse, who has been with you for two weeks? the nurse that you have clung to, and moaned) for when yourglazed eyes could not see me? Don’t you remember how you made me hold you—just so —when the feyer-pliantoms were chasing you? Surely we are old friends by thistime?”_ “My Perdita?”’ 1 “Why, darling, do you know me then? Now I shall dare : nh, thank Heaven!” 09). if “How strange that she should look so joyful at.any good me. Arm I St. Udo Brand, who was at odds with all the world? or nave I been changed into a man with a human heart, to be prized by a noble woman? Is this a revised and improved edition of St. Udo? Have I got out of that bitter, reckless being, and after ages of toiling in a black, demon-crowded abyss for my sins, have I re-en- tered the world te be simple, and beloved and happy? 0, Thou who saved me from annihilation, will that this be true! | ’ Be “Lady, will you not tell me your name?” “You called me ‘Perdita’ when I thought the pest was drifting you from my arms farther—farther, and yet the closer into my heart—call me Perdita still. Oh, my darl- ing, to think that after all, 1 have won you from the gates of death!” Ee ‘*How long have we loved each other, Perdita? Why do these deep, gray eyes hide themselves from me? Why does that flash creep to brow, and gentle cheek? Whata dear face! Whata holy face! Ihope that it will beam upon me until] die! What is it that she says?” “{ found you smitten with the plague, anu, taking care of you, because there was no one else who had sucha right, as the Marplot of your life, you came to think me some one whom you loved, -and to call me Perdita, It was one of your fancies.” “I hope it will develop into a reality. I shall pinion your wings, bright seraph, to keep you by me.” ; *“Ausi—hush! You are wandering away again.” “Keep by me, my love—Perdita; on, keep by me.” **As if I would ever leave you, while I could make one moment lighter for you.” “Ah, well! Remember you have promised that.” He sinks softly down among his pillows with a sigh of ineffable peace; his Perdita wipes the tears of joy from his face, and rearranges the light coverings. A soit wind is blowing through the half-closed windows, from over the quiet water clasped within the arms of the coral reef, and the dreamy strains of a military band creep from a gallant war-sbip out in the bay; and in the beautiful twilight, the graceful boats are shooting in and out from cedar groves to the white huts standing on the edge of the reefs sike Grecian temples, and the lovely scene is Calm as the smile on the face of the sick man. The musquito net is drawn close around the invalid’s bed, and his nurse sits within the fold and watches him until he sinkstosleep. And then she beniis her head until it touches his lissom hand, and weeping much in her deep thankfulness, she tov sinks to. slumber, well earned and long denied. ; The same hour next evening St. Udo Brand comes to himself again from his mystic depths of fever and sor- row and importunate desire, to see the same tender vision watching over him and to breathe the same sweet per- fume of fresli-culled flowers, and to feel the same restful joy which broke the darkness of his weary trance before. And he is so glad to find this dream staying by him when so Many otiers have slipped away, that he stretches out his hands, and beckons with a ery of welcome. er Perdita, | feared I had lost'you! Where did you 0 ? ww * “[ have never left your side.” — “I could not find you, and I have been wandering, wan- ny everywhere. How was it you got away from my 1an She, bending her ear to catch these feeble accents, glows witn a look of wonder and joy; all the lines of weariness pass away from her face; tor the moment she is quite beautiful. ikl do “Dear one, was it really me you were trying to hold.in your sleep ?’’ she asks softly; ‘I saw your brow gather, and your lips move, and an anxious expression come over you, in every little siumber, but when I held your groping hand you clasped mine tightly, and became happy in your dreams, Was it Perdita whom you wish- ed 80 much to keep by you ?” ‘Yes, yes; that wasit. You express my thoughts so smoothly for me that I wish you wouid try again. Some- thing has got away from me after all. Letme hold you, while | try to remember.”’ é She gives him her hand, and she gives him also her faitnful bosom, Giadly she lifts him in her frail arms, and clasps hiai close, close, and she presses her lips upon his sunken eyelids with kisses as soft and healing as the flowers of paradise, “It is coming back. I keptitsolong in spite of the whirling goblins and demons who tried to snatch it from me, but when | came to you just now I found that it was gone. Did you take it from me, and give it back to me now, when you laid my head upon your bosom 7” “What was it, my darling ?” “Your promise, Perdita.” “That you were getting weary of your ‘and re- etting your promise.” EET - “How could you ever think thatofme??* = “There. I love to see those gray eyes deepen and flash through generous tears. I will take.that back, for I see itis not true.” — : oe my ha “Have 1 ever been forgetful of you?” © ~= == = “No, no, no. If ever woman had the heart of an angel of mercy, you have one, my Perdita. missed one atom of your wonderful care for me, but lately you have been reserved. You have denied me your hand so often to help. me back to myself, or your bosom where my head ached; and the sweet 1 of endearment rarely come from you, except when once or twice you have thought I was sleeping.” ; “You are getting so well and strong 1 1 do not re- quire such excessive tenderness. It y while you were helpless as a Child that I felt for you asif you were one. ; “You are but a child yourself, my poor, fragile darling; and, yet, child as you are, I do require your motherly care, your motherly words of love. I have had them once, and they were so heavenly sweet that I cannot do without them.” ’ . “I will be your mother then, until you can do without me. I Shall take care of myc care of himself.’ : { “Little mother, why do you weep?’ } \ “Hush, hush! we have talked long enough; go to sleep. “In your arms, then, Perdita?” ay She gathers him to her heart. Recklessly she strains him close, while yet she may, heedless of the lonely days d until he is able to take when heart and soul will hunger gnawingly for this bless- ed moment. ; And so time fares on with this Brand which has been plucked from the burning. Little by little he takes back to him life and strength; little by little he spells out this strange, sweet, new life, and analyzes it, and -basks in itslambent sunshine. Not little by little grows his love forthe Perdita of his fever dreams; she has taken the tide when it was at its lowest ebb, and it has swept her into liis deep, strong heart, which nevermore can shut her out. es ee He watches her beaming eyes with’ wistful constancy; he clings to her garments; he kisses her light hands, which touch him in gentle ministrations. The hard man is conquered, and by a woman. But when he grows fearful that, after all, she may be wearying of this toil and care for him; when, with anx- ious eyes, hie looks into the future, and pictures life with- out this gentle comlorter, he almost wishes that health would turn her back on him forever, so that he might ey- er have Perdita; and he worries himself into continual fevers, which prove a great drawback to his convalesence. Sue, also, has her secret load of anxiety. A crisis is approaching which she may not longer stave off. She must make herself known anon, and finish her duty with regard to him, and go away; and, oh! Heaven knows how she is to turn her back upon this great passion of her life, and him ! In her perfection of humility, she never hopes for re- ward for these great services of hers; she counts them but a feeble recompense for ttie evil She—his Marplot ane Ruin—fas wrought him, which no recompense can atone for. She has not had the vanity to probe into his heart, and weigh his gratitude toward her, or to count upon it fora moment. His daily evidences of love are to her burt the wayward fancy of aninvyulid, which time and strengtli will sweep away, as surely vs the ripple would blot her reflection from yonder smooth lagoon. And at last the burden grows so heavy on the heart of each, that he, the least patient, breaks silence, and reck- lessly puts his hand te the wheel which may revolve and crush him. “You have always put me off when I was at all inquisi- tive about you,’ he says to ner, one day; “but since lam getting well so rapidiy, I think it time that I should as- sume a little of the responsibility of my own affairs. I have an appallingly heavy debt of gratitude to pay a kind lady, whose only name to me is ‘Perdita’, and 1 wish to be more particularly acquainted with my deliveress.”’ “If you would only wait until you were strong enough to travel,” answers Margaret, becoming very pale, ‘it would be far the best.’’ “Why, where are we to travel, my Perdita?”’ “You must prepare your mind fora journey, sir—a jour- ney which will be for your good and happiness.” “With you?” “Without me.’? The desolate tones come quietly enough, but the in- valid gives a great start, and cluiches at his thin hands, and turns away his face. Lying so still and so long that she almost thinks him 0. sleeping, she bends timidly over him, and meets his dark eyes fall of mournful tears. ; “I feared it would come to this,’ he says, almost passionately to her; ‘tand yet I have foolis' selfishly clung to the hope that you would never see leave me. Have 1 been meddling much with your family duties by this long monopoly of you”? “IT have no family duties to attend to.” ar 8 . “No family ties to break, should I wish, if it were posi- sible for you to stay with me always?” “Oh, sir, you would not speak so if you—if [could be honest and brave with you.” “My child—on, my child, I cannot bear tosee those tears. If you knew how dear you are to me, you would think well before you cast anything between us.” She buries her face in her hands—for a sacred space * her heart throbs‘in its joy, and she feels that it were well | ; a x? - | But when they are all | side, he scans his Perdita’s worth, the coming years of hunger, to taste the sweet bliss as She tastes it now;.and then she meekly looks her situa- tion im the face. ; yb tet vos soe “There are no family ties keeping mefrom you,’ she murmurs, as firmly as she may; ‘but it would not be hon- orabie for me to accept any gratitude from you, or to ac- cede to any Such request as you have made, because—I ¥ res Mises did not come here and find you out with any craven hope of reward;.I have barely done my duty toward you, and have had no thought of buying your love.”? “I do not understand. I love you, Heaven knows most fervently, my Perdita, but whether you have bought it or not, I cannot say; it is yours, and cannot be recalled,” . “And Icannot take it under such circumstances as those in which I won it. When you understand fully your affairs, you will then see how mercenary I would be to accept your love now.”’ wer | “Mercenary? My poor child! I offer you this poor, wasted | d, and a broken constitution, and penniless prospects, wherewith to be happy, (and it is a part of my ative selMishness to imagine that my great love could compensate for all drawbacks), but there is not the small- at room. fo : puspecting you of mercenary motives—not es ‘ ‘ “I have heard it said’ (this with piteous hesitation) “that Colonel Brand was to be reinstated. in his rights, Loa a great-estate in England was going to be offered to 2? tery ~ m The invalid half-raises himself on his elbow, and laughs eartily. «dseoh “Dismiss that rumor from your mind,” he says, ina relieved tone, “forif that is all the basis you have upon which to found mercenary expectations, it is as slight as the mirage air. I would not go back to England to meddle with that property if I begged my bread for want of it. I will toady round no woman’s shoes.” “But if she didn’t wish it,” trembled Margaret, “if she insisted on giving itupto you, and rejecting all claim to it?? ; ‘Not she.” F “But if she did ?”* : “T hope ase emu may, darling. If she did, andif [ * was ever base gh to accept it, I should have, in non- or to propose to her by way oi titude, and because my grandmother's will said | organ-grinder, with a monkey to my girdle, the heir of Castle Brand with Margaret Walsingham for my wife.” aes i ‘Perhaps you misjudge hi Per she was as un- willing to be the obstacle be! n 7° 1 and your property as you were that she should he so. pt ite “You are generous, my little’ mother, to defend one of the greediest kestrels who ever struck claw into carrion; but you are not just. Ihave no« that brought herself to try such an ex en ; booty to me, it would be either with the assural I would refuse it, or with the hope that common would urge me to marry her.” a ok “She would never marry you,” is the quiet and sad re- joinder. Reg eae ee Se ? “Well, we Shan’t give her the cha Let us tu turn from eliing subject (to my min d ge have se da I would rather be an ome. We ed, and she is close foreboding. a eat = _ “What is this, dear child? Why are youso pale and _| troubled? Have eo been reine ays zn : oo nothing of consequence. Have you been comfort- able? a om death, and to find a lovely lady | h It was not that you’ at ; v by i : ans untenance with a conviction | growing within him, ree on are Ge Waeweon ‘them ‘hich she cannot pass, and he seizes her hand in sudden “Everything is of consequence which brin; marks of sorrow to my Perdita’s face. Who ie, boon vexing you, child ?” dre ELS Saunt “No one—no one, sir.”” * ces “Who has been grieving you then ??? san “J—it is no one’s fault. I have only been a little foolish —that ts all.” i = Se She averts her pallid face, and will not be questi ‘more, but leads him utterly from personal subjects. She has been dear and kind before, but never precisely with the yearning, smothered passion of this last even- ing; she almost seems to cling to him, as if invisibie ands were driving her away, and her pathetic grows tremulous at every word of tenderness from him. © And St. Udo has an indistinct memory of burning tears flashing somewhere, while he sleeps, and of soft lips touching his, in one meek kiss, and of tender words of blessing and of prayer; and then a shadow falls upon him gray, aud sad, for the door had shut him in, and the girl is gone. P : {To be Continued.] ee J AND HOW SHE PAID RY Ares. MARY J. woratES, ron, sof nekiets an De ‘ aves inees Ma- her, a “ v >> & 7 stead on the Hil 7 ene ani japanine,?” “Cousin Maude,” “Ethelyn’s Mistake,” * eron Pride,’ ‘“Meadow Brook,” “English | ir hans,” “Dora | jeare,” Sto. 6th so 9 ty “The Leighton Homestead’ was commenced in No. 17. Back | numbers may be obtained from any News Agent in the United | States. . > ose _ UP IN THE NORTH ROOM. 16 na asked, as she skipped across the floor an the hearth-rag in front of the fire. that little room? I thought———’ _ She did not say what she thought, for Becky interrupt- ‘ed her witi: ce “Oh, dat’s no ’count room; jes’ put folks in thar when they fust comes, then moves ’em up higher, like they does in Scripter. Marster’s mighty quare.” ' “How long have you lived with him?’ Edna asked, and Becky replied: ae /“Qh, many years. I was @ slave on the block, in Caro- lida, and Marster Phil comed in and seen me, and pitied ‘me iike, and bid me off, and kep’ me from gwine South with a trader, an’ brought me home’and sot me free, and T’ve lived with him ever since, an’ please Heaven, 1 will sarve him till I die, for all he’s done for me. Is you gwine to stay, Miss Overton ?”? | a Becky had gratified Edna’s curiosity, and in return ask- ed that her own should be gratified, so Edna told her that she was going to stay and geta school if she could, that her name was Louise, and not Ellen as Becky seemed to think; that all her friends were dead except one aunt, and that she was sure she should like it there very much if only she could get ae 0 do.”? ‘You likes to work then, and so did Miss Maude, though she ’pears more ofalady than ’nough I’ve seen what wouldn’t lift thar finger to fotcha thing,” Becky said, and then Edna asked: i ne ct “Who is this Maude? Uncle Phil has spoken of her once or twice.’ ~ Becky liked nothing better than a bit of gossip just be- fore going to bed. She had had it often with this same mysterious Maude, who, she said, used to occupy that very room, and whose name was Maude Somerton, from New York. : “She came fust to Prospect Cottage, as they calla house way up on the hills whar the city gentry sometimes stay summers for a spell and whar Miss Maude’s Aunt Burton was onct with her daughter she called Georgie, though she was a girl.” , ie . sae Sa Edna was interested now, and moved a little nearer to Becky, who continued: “I know precious little *bout them Burtons, only they “was mighty big feelin’, and’ Miss Maude was a kind of poor relation, I s’pects, leastwise she wanted to teach school, and Uncle Phil was commit- tee-man and let her have if, and she was to board round and dian’t like it, and went at Marster Phil till he took lier in, though he hated to like pison, and it was allusa P mystery tome how she did it, for he don’t hanker after wimmen much, and never could bar to have ’em ’round.” Here Aunt Becky paused @ moment,and taking advantage of the pause, we will present our readers with a picture which Aunt Becky did not see, else she would have known just how Maude Somerton persuaded Uncle Philip to let ier have a home beneath his roof. Time, five v’clock, or thereabouts, on a Warm summer afternoon. Place, a strip of meadow land on Uncle Phil’s premises. Dramatis Persone, Uncle Pnil and Maude Somerton. She, witn her duties of the day over, wending her way slowly to- ward the small and ratheruncomfortable gable-roofed house up the mountam road, where it was her fate to board for tuat week, aye, for two or three weeks, judging by the number of flaxén-headed children, who seldom left her alone for a moment, and who each night contend- ed for the honorof Se eae the “schooi-marm.”’ He, Uncle Phil, industriously raking up into mounds the fragrant hay, and cas now and then a wistful glance at a bank of clouds which threatened rain, when sud- denly, across the field between the mounds of hay and. bearing swiftly sane on him, came an airy form, her blue linen dress held just high enough to clear the grass ame t show her pretty boois, with the 1em, and her dainty white petti- ruffles were the envy of all the knelt upon “What’s become of eky Point d the bane of the wash-woman’s . Uncle Phil sa é apparition coming, and saw the’ coat.and tne W d ankles, for, crusty oid bach- ‘ > ; eyes like any other,man, and never lost such sights he thought what pretty feet Miss Somerton had, and what tall boots she wore, and wondered why she was coming toward him in such hot haste. IiFu Bee Gs: a? oat * “Most likely some of ee Beals’ boys have been raisin’ Cain, and so she comes to me as committee-man, I'll be blamed if I don’t throw up the office, for I can’t have wimmen taggin’ after me this way,” he thought, and pre- tending not to see the young girl, now so near to him, he kept on with his raking until right before his very face came the vision of blue and white, and a little fat, dim- pled hand was laid upgn his rake, and a pair of soft, blue lor as he was, hep eyes looked up inte his with something like tears in them, be | move this ver | bandanna; but nothing was of avail to | drove the cows to their past PTE ere of _ | /-'as'sot up as the Burtons, and thar place, Miss Maude say, “Qh, how pleasant and nice. Am I to sleep here? Bd. | EKLY. while a pleading vuice told him how terrible it was to board round, to eat the best cake every day, to be com- pany all the time and never feel at home; besides what was worse than all the rest, having from one to three children fighting to sleep witn you every night, when you wanted so much to be alone at least a portion of the time.”? And then, stili grasping the rake, she asked if she might stay altogether at his house where everything was so-nice and coo! and quiet, and she could have a room to herself, undisturbed by chiidren. “You will, 1 know you will, Mr. Overton,” and Maude stopped for his reply. Uncle Phil was more astounded than when asked by Edna to kiss her. Of his own accord he would quite as soon have taken a young alligator into his family as a girl, a woman; but there was something about this one standing there before him, and now actually grasping his hand instead of the rake, which completely unmanned him, Those eyes, and the touch of the white fingers clinging so closely to his own, could not be resisted, and with a quick, nervous motion, he began to step backwards and sideways and then forwards, ejaculating meanwhile, “Lord bless me—yes, yes. I feel very queer; yes I do. Let go myrake. Thisissudden. Yes, yes. You don’t like sleepin’ with ail the young ones in the deestrict. Yes, yes. Don’t blameyou. I’d as soon sleep with a nest of | wood Yes, yes. This is curis. I must have some snuff. He got his hand free from Maude, took two or three good pinches of his favorite Macaboy, offered her some, and then, giving a pitch to his suspender, replied to her question, repeated—“May I stay with you, Mr. Overton?” “Yes, yes, I s’pose you'll have to, if Beck is willin’. ll see her to-night, and let you know.” He said this last by way of giving himself a chance to draw back, for already he began to repent, and feel how terrible it would be to have a young woman in his house all the time—to-day, to-morrow, and next day. Why, it Was a great deal worse than sleeping with every child in town, and he brought up Beck as the pack-horse who was to carry the burden of his refusal on the morrow. But Maude outwitted him there. “Oh, thank you, thank you!’’ shecried. ‘You are the dearest man in the world. Becky is allright. I saw her first, and she said if you were willing she was. I shall day, for Icannot and will not stay with Mrs. Higg' ir. Thy . Thank you.again, ever so much, you dear, darling man.” She was tripping off across tne fields, leaving the ene- my totally routed and vanquished, and sick at his stom- ach, and dizzy-headed, as he tried to think how many more weeks there were before vacation. “Nine, ten, TWELVE !”’ he fairly groaned. “I can’t stand it. I won’t stand it. I'll put a stop to it—see if I don’t. Yes, yes; to have them boots trotiin’ up and down the stairs, and them petticoats whiskin’ through the doors, pnd makin’ me feel so curis. I'll go crazy—I feel like t now.’? esas a He tried snufl—six pinches; but that didn’t answer. Then he tried raking hay so fast that, to use his own words, **he sweat like a butcher;’’ then he tried cooling his feet in the brook near by, and wiping them on his ive away “that curis feelin’ at the pit of his stomach,” and long before ‘sunset he left his work and wended his way homeward. The enemy was there before him, or, at least, a part of her equipments, for two of the Higgins’ boys had brought over Maude’s satchel, a abe ieee water-proof, and two or three books, and a pair of overshoes, all of which were on the kitchen-table, while the boys were Ce eet the gate in the front yard. : ; hil ordered the boys home, and ‘the traps” up eu i | in the little “back chamber.’’ “That’ll start her. She’ll find that wérse than sleepin’ with the Higginses,’’ he thought, as he gave the order, and then went and took a dose of something he called “jal- lup.” ‘“Hehad an awful headache,” he said to Aunt Becky, when she inquired what was the matter; and _ his headache increased and sent him to bed before Maude ar- rived, flushed,délighted, and full of spirits that her board- ing ’round was over. He heard her go up to to her little hot back room, and wondered how she liked it, and how long she’d stay in it, and half wished he had nailed the window down so she could not open it. . She was up b: Bi ht and early the next morning, and asture, a distance of half a mue, and brought back a bunch of flowers, which she arranged npon the table; and she looked so fresh and pretty in her biue gown, which just matched her eyes, and ate cold beans so heartily, that Uncle Phil began to relent, and that night she slept in the north-west room instead of the lit- tle back one. There she staid a whoie week; and then, aiter having helped Uncle Pnil rake up his hay one day when ashower was coming up, she was promoted to the north, and best chamber, and some nice striped matting was bought for the floor, and a pretty chestnut set took the piace of the high-post bedstead and old-fashioned bu- reau; and some curtains were hung at the windows, for Uncle Phil said, ‘‘he didn’t want the whole town to see the girl undress, if they did him.” _ And here, for weeks, Maude reigned, a very queen, and cheered and brightened up the old farm-house until when inthe fall she leit and went back to Oakwood, Aunt Becky actually cried for sheer loneliness, and Uncle Pnil took a larger dose of ‘‘jallup” to help the feeling at his stomach than whem she first came to him. — - - And tnis w: v Maude Somerton chanced to be an nate of Unc hil’s family, and enshrined in hus heart as Well as in old Becky's, as a kind of divintty, whom it was not so very wrong to worship. © “Pears like we never could get over hankerin’ after her,” Becky said to Edna, “she was so chirk and peart- ne tee the house so siete ioe dna was ongitig to ask another question, but did not quite know how to get at it. At last she said: “Does Miss Somerton live in New York al! the time? Has her Aunt Burton no country residence?” = =—* “Yes, bless you, a house as big as four of this, down to Oakwood, whar thar’s looking-glasses as long as you be, Miss Maude said, and furniture all covered with satin.” _ Edna was no nearer her point than Yefore, and so she ‘tried again. | “Have they any neighbors at Oakwood, any families | they are intimate with??? ~~ - : ‘ _ “Yes, thar’s the Leighton’s, to my way of thinkin’ quite ‘is handsomer and bigger than the one to Oakwood.” “Oh, indeed, Mrs. Leighton must be a happy woman. Did you ever see her?’? Edna asked, and Becky replied, “Thar ain’t no Miss Leighton, she’s Miss Churchill, mar- ried twicet, her oldest boy, Mr. Roy, owns the property, and is the nicest man l reckon you ever seen. He staid to the hotel oncet a few weeks, and I done his wasnin’, ‘case he couldn’t find nobody handy, and Marster Phil let me do it and keep the pey. He wore aclean shirt a day, and cuffs and collars, and white vests, and pocket hand- kerchief ana socks without end, and gave me seventy-five cents a dozen just as they run, which made me a nice Meee ina eae using shah gikene aj 1 Yes, na r, more ent upon another matter than Roy TaNEOe: washing. ‘Yes, I suppose he must be very rich? Is he the only cnild?” ‘“Ne-oo,’? and Aunt Becky spoke a little scorntfully, while Edna moved so as to hide her burning face. She had reached the point at last, and her heart beat almost audibly as she listened to Aunt Becky, who con- tinuede ayy, as a “Or he wasn’t the only child when they was here. Thar was a younger one,a Charles Churchill, who got killed on the railroad a spell ago. You should speak well of the dead, and I mean to, but I reckon he wasn’t of so much count in these yer parts as Master Roy.” _ Did he do anything bau?’ Edna asked, and her voice was very iow and sad. “No, not bad, only wan’t of much ’count,’”’ Becky said, “He druy fast horses, and smoked all the time, and brag- ged about his money when he handn’t a cent, and flirted with the girls awfully. Thar’s Miss Ruth Gardner, all of three years older than him, thought she should catch him sure, and little Marcia Belknap was fairly bewitched, and both on ’em cried when they heard he was dead, though he left a wife the papers sald, married that very t Yash y. : ‘ “Oh, dreadful,” and Edna groaned aloud, for she saw again that awful scene, and the white, still face upturned to the angry sky, aud it seemed wrong to sit there and make no sign while Becky went on: “PT hain’t seen Miss Maude since, so I don’t know noth- in’ about his wife, who she was, nor whar she is. Down to the Leighton Place, maybe, though it’s been surmised that she warm’t much—kind of poor white folksy, I reck- on; and if.that’s so, Miss Churchill ain’t a-goin’ to own her, ’case she’s mighty big feelin’, and turned up her nose. at Miss Ruth, and took her boy home to git shet of her. But Miss Ruth is enough for her, and I’ve hearn she taik- ed awful about that wife of Cuarle’s, and said she jest wished she could see her long enough to tellaer she had the best and fustest right to her husband. Oh, she’sa clipper, Miss Ruth is.” Edna’s hands were locked firmly together, and the nails were making red marks upon her flesh, while she longed ter Aunt Becky to leave her. She had heard enough, and she looked so white and tired, that Becky noticed it at lust, and asked il she was sick. “No, only tired,’”? she said; and then Becky said good- night, and left her alone with her sad thoughts, which, however, were not all sad and bitter. phe had lost her first love in more ways than one, and as, with ler head bent down, she sat thinking of him and all she had heard, she felt a fresh pang of remorse cut through her heart at her own callousness in feelipg that perhaps for herself it was better that Charlie died. But only for herself. When she thought of him, and what he might perhaps» have been had space for repentance been grauted him, her tears flowed like rain, and, prone upon her face, she prayed that if the prayers of the living for the dead could avail, hers might be heard and answered for her lost, wayward Charlie. CHAPTER XXI. MISS OVERTON,. To the young and healthy sleep comes easily, and so, in spite of her excitement, Edna slept soundly in her new home; anid when the first signs of daylight began to be visible in her room, and siie heard sounds of life below, she arose with a feeling nearer akin to happiness than she had known beijore since Charlie died. Aunt Becky soon appeared, chiding her for getting up before her fire was made, and finally coaxing her back to bed, while she kindled a blazing fire upon the hearth, and then brought a huge pitcher of het water for her young lady’s ablutions, Breakfast would be ready in half an hour, she said, as she left the room; and then Edna roseagain, and remem- bering what Uncle Phil had saio about her grand mother’s hair, and inferring therefrom that he liked curls, she brushed and arranged her own thick tresses ip masses of wavy curls, which fell upon her ueck and briglitened up tue deep black of her dregs, MEX apes. 2 | worthy woman a long letter, full. of Rocky ( Uncle Phil had said he liked to see a fresh young face at his table, and he found one there when he came in from the barn; and after bidding Edna good morning, said, soitly, as he laid his hand on her flowing hair: “Wear it so always, Louise; it makes me think of my sister.’ “l am going to town,’’ he said, when breakfast was over, *‘to see what I can do towards scariw’ up.a school, though I bainta great deal of confidence; but if I fail, there’s still the factory to, Millville, and the ,hired girl business, you know.” . He gave Edna a knowing wink, offered her a pincn of snuff, told her “to keep a stiff upper lip,’? and then rode off on old Bobtail to Rocky Point. eae Long before noon everybody in town knew that the strange young lady in black was Miss Louise - Overton, Uncle Pnil’s niece, who wanted a school, and ‘could teach music and drawing and everything, and Miss Ruth Gard- ner’s name was actually down as a pupil in drawing, while Squire Gardner headed the list with his two young- est children as day scholars‘in case Miss Overton should succeed in getting up aschool. It was astroke of policy on Uncle Phil’s part to get the Gardner’s interested, especial- ly Miss Ruth, whose name as a pupil in drawing was the direct means of gaining several more, Marcia Belknap’s with the others, so that when at noon Uncle Phil went home to dinner, it was settled, or nearly so, that a select school should be opened at once in one of the rooms of the old Academy, Uncle Phil pledging himself to see that it was thoroughly cleaned and put in order, as well «s to supplying all the necessary fuel. Twenty scholars were promised sure, and several more were doubtful, and Un- cle Phil rode home in great spirits, and gave Bobtail an extra eennee of hay, and then went in to Edna to whom ne said: _ “Well, I dunno ’bout the school, but there’s a place you can have at Squire Gardner’s as second girl, to wait on the door and table, and pass things on a little silver plat- ter, wages, two dollars a week and found. Will you take it? “Certainly, if nothing more profitable offers. I told you I would do anything to earn money,’’ Edna said prompt- ly, whereupon Uncle Pnil called her a ‘brick’? and said: “He’d like to see her waiting on Ruth Gardner, yes he would,” and took a pinch of snuff, and told her the exact truth, and that Miss Ruth was to call on. her that after- popnAnd.pee ome of her drawings and talk it over with er, ; i, Miss Ruth was a half-sensible, half-romantic kind of girl, very proud and exclusive, and at first somewhat disposed to patronize ‘‘Miss Overton,’? whose personal appearance she mentally criticised, deciding that she was very young and rather pretty, or would be if she only had more style. Style was a kind of mania with Ruth, who, being very plain, said frankly, that ‘‘as she could not be handsome, she would be stylish, which was next best to beauty,’? and so she studied fashion and went to the ex- treme of everything, and astonished the Rocky Pointers with something new every month, and carried matters with ahigh hand, and queened it overall the young peo- ple, whom she alternately noticed and snubbed, and did more to help Edna by being a pupil herself than any six — other young ladies could have done. She liked Edna from the first, and liked her the more because she fancied her to be suffering from some other cause than the mere loss offriends. ‘*A love affair, most likely,’’ she thought, and as one who knew how to sympathize. in such matters she took a great interest in her young teacher, and ere long waxed somewhat confidential, and once when speak- ing of marriage, said with a sigh and a downcast look in her gray eyes, that ‘ther firstand only love was dead, that the details of his death were too dreadful to narrate and had made so strong an impression upon her that it was not at all probable she should ever marry now.” And Edna listened with burning cheeks and bent her head lower over the drawing she was making from memo- ry of abit of landscape seen from Aunt Jerry’s upper | Edna stood somewhat in aweof Miss Ruth © windows. . with all her dash and style, and flights of fancy, but from the moment little Marcia Belknap called. and looked at her with her great, dreamy eyes, and spoke with her sweet low voice, she was the young girl’s sworn friend, and when the two grew so intimate that Marcia, who was . also given to sentiment and fancies, and had.a penchant for blighted hopes and broken hearts, told. the teacher one night, just as Ruth had done, of her oer “love, Edna caressed the bowed head of the young girl and lopged to tell her how foolish she was, and how the lost fruit if gathered, would have proved but an apple of Sodom. “Charlie was not worthy of so much trust,’? was the sad refrain ever repeating itself in her heart, until at last . tne old sorenéss began to give way, and She felt that the blow which had severed his life from hers had also set her free from a load she would have found hard to bear as the years went on, and she saw more and more the terrible mistake she had made. The school was’a great success, thanks to Uncle Phil, who worked like a hero to get her scholars, and who car- ried her each day to and, from the old academy, while Becky vied with him in Caring for and petting her young | mistress, who bid fair to rival even Maude herself in the © affections of the quaint old couple. And Edna was very happy. Her school, including her pupils in drawing, was bringing her in over one hundred and fifty dollars a quar- ter, and as she had no outgoing expenses she was con- tidently expecting to lessen her debt to Roy in the spring, besides sending Aunt Jerry a draft which should surprise her. r ‘et a we _As soon as her prospects were certain she wrgie to that ‘oint and Uncle Phil, the best man in the world, and the queerest, and then, word for word, she gave his invitation for Aunt Jerry to visit him. r aa “I have no idea she’ll come,’’ Edna said to herself as she folded up the letter, ‘but maybe she will feel better for the invitation.”’ ; And she did, though the expression of her face was'a study for an instant, as over her. lone evening fire with only Tabby for company, Mrs. Pepper read her niece’s letter. She did not exactly swear as Uncle Philhad done, when he first heard fe name and knew that Edna was her niece, but she involuntarily aposthrophized the same personage, though addressing him by another name. “The very old Harry !’’ she exclaimed, and a perceptible pallor crept into her face, as, snuffing her tallow dip, she commenced again to see if she had read arigit. Yes, she had, for there it was in black and white. Pnilip Overton was Edna’s great uncle, to whom in her distress she had gone, and he had taken her as his daugh- ter, and given hei his name, and’sent a friendly message to her, Jerusha Pepper, asking her to yisit him, and couching his invitation in language so characteristic of the man that it made the spinister bristle a little with re- sentment. She sent more than a quart of milk that night to the minister’s wife, whose girl, as usual, came for it, and wondered with her mistress to find her pail so full, and next day at the sewing society she gave five yards of cotton cloth to be made into. little garments for the poor children of the parish, and seemed so softened every day that Captain Brown, a widower of ten years’ standing, whose fields joined Aunt Jerry’s on one. side, ventured to offer to see her home, it was so dark and slippery. But she nearly snapped his head off with her disuainful “Tnank you, sir; 1’m able to take care of myself,” and started for her home, where, before she slept, she wrote a letter to Edna, telling her, ‘“‘she was glad to Know she was. so well provided for, and hoped she would be- have herself and keep the right side of her uncie, and not go to the Unitarian meeting if she had any regard for what her sponsors in baptism promised for her, let alone what she took on herseif the time she repewed the pro- mise. The Orthodox persuasion was a little better, though that was far enough from light, and ifshe couldn’t be carried Over to Millville, and it wasn’t likely Mr. Over- ton was one to cart folks to church, she’d. better stay at home and read her prayer-book by herself and one of Ryle’s sermons. Sne (Miss Pepper) would seid the book as a Christmas gift.’? The letter closed with, ‘Thank your uncie for inviting me to his house, but tell him I pre- fer my own bed and board to any body’s else, l’ve toughi- ‘ed it out these thirty years, and guessican stand it a spell longer.’’ Uncle Phil brought the letter to Edna, and then without seeming to do so, watched her while she read it. — “What. does the Pepper-corn say?’’ he asked when Edna had finished reading it, ‘‘or maybe you wouldn’t mind letting me see for myself. 1 own to a good deal of curiosity about this woman. Edna hesitated a moment and then reflecting that the Jetter was quite a soft, friendly epistie for Aunt Jerry to write, gave it to Uncle Phil, who, putting on his glasses, read it through carefully till he came to the part concern- ing the proper way for Edna to spend her Sundays. Then he laughed aloud and said, more to himself than Edna, as it would seem: ; “Yes, yes, plucky as ever. Death on the Unitarians; church to the end of her spine; orthodox most as bad; Ryle and the prayer-book; good for her.” Then, when he reached the reply to his invitation to visit him, he laughed so long and loud, and took such quantities of snuff, that Edna looked at him with a half fear lest he had suddenly gone mad. But he had not, and after a little he handed the letter back, saying as he did so: “Tough old knot, isn’t she? Game to the last.’ Edna made no reply, for something in his manner made her sorry that she had shown him Aunt Jerry’s letter, and she resolved never to doit again. She had written to Jack Heyfora, telling him of the change in her name and prospects, and her proximity to Charlie’s friends, and Jack nad replied in along, Kind, brotherly letter in which he told her that Georgie was at present with him, but he did nut know how long she would stay. “Annie is better,’? he wrote, ‘but we fear will never be able to walk again without.the aid of crutches. She talks of you a great deal and wonders where youare. I have not told’ her of your letter. Ithought it. better not to do so with Georgie here, as I ert that uncle of yours has some good reason for not wishing the Leightons to know where you are, or who you are, at present, Iam think- ing of changing my quarters from Chicago to New York, or rather Jersey City, where I have a chance in an Insur- ance Company, but nothing is decided yet. Wil let you know as soon as it is, and if we do remove to New York, and you will let me, I shall come to Rocky Point, as there is something I wish to say to you, which I would rather not put’on paper. I was there once fora day with Roy Leighton some years ago; his mother was at the Moun- tain House, and Georgie was there too. Strange how matters get mixed up, is it not?’’ Jack signed himself, ‘‘yours truly,’? nothing more, but something in the tone of his. letter set Edna’s heart to beating unpleasantly, as she wondered wnat it was Jack Heyford had to say to her, which he would rather not commit to paper. {To be Continued.) —— Aa The salmon, a fish which usually confines itself to the water, is now coming overland from California. nso ana +e es a nn a THE BEAUTIFUL SPRING HAS COME. BY MRS, M. A. KIDDER. Li{t up your hearts oh thankful poor, and clap your joyful hands. The Spring has come ! her silvery voice Is heard throughout all lands. Litt up your hearts, oh rich and great, For all the blessings given, As dews descend, and bounteous rains Life giving, come from Heaven. Lift up your hearts, ye hoary-haired That near the shining shore; Eternal spring will soon be yours, And rest forevermore ! Lift up your hearts in thankfulness Sweet children and fair youth, As spring puts on her robes of green, Put on the robes of truth. Lift up your hearts ye songsters bright, In anthems without words, And all created things rejoice In chorus with the birds! Oh! giorious Spring! oh gladsome Spring, In royal garments drest, By old and young, by rich and poor Art thou forever blest ! THE MOUND OF DEATH. A Legend of Early Kansas. BY J. E. BADGER. Our story opens in 1816. The scene is Kansas, some four er five miles above where now stands the flourishing city of St. Joseph, on the Missouri river. It was a sad and mournful scene that we call the read- er’s attention to, but one that has often occured. There, amidst that litthe clearing, was the still smoldering ruins of six loghouses,and there too were ghastly blood-stained forms of women and children, whose scalpless heads pro- cluimed the direful work to be that of Indians. A num- ber of living forms were carefully and reverentially con- veying the dead to one spot, under the sheltering boughs ofa venerable elm, where a large grave had been dug. At length they were all gathered together, and then the sid ceremonial of burial began. Tears roiled down those sun-embrowned cheeks, as the hardy borderers took a long, last farewell of their mothers, wives, sisters or daughters, and then the dirt was cast in, covering them from human sight forever. The grave was filled and all forms were bowed to the earth as one of their number lifted up his voice in prayer for the repose of the souls of their murdered kindred. The fresh earth was moistened with the tears that brave men were not ashamed to drop over the remains of those who were so dear to them. They then arose, and stepping forward, an aged and silvery haired man knelt upon the newly Made grave, ana lifting his clasped hands on high, he uttered : “Father, hear me, and record my vow! Never will I rest, never cease hunting until i revenge my poor mor- dered wife, my son, and rescue my daugiiter from the hands of those fiends who have brought so much sorrow upon us, or I am cold and still in death! Amen |’ A tall, lithe young man now advanced and spoke. “Mr, Craig. 1 join you most sincerely in that vow, and until Mary is free as air, 1 will never enter a house, never know repose, save sucii as 1 require to enable me to ac- complish my vow.’ “An’ hyar’s one thet jines yer in thet sw’ar,”’ exclaimed a herculean man, dashing the butt of his weather-beaten rifle upon the ground. “Andi! And1i!’? shouted one and all. “Come men, we mustn't stand here, while every mo- ment lost is so much against us. Let us hurry up and take the trail,” spoke up Mr. Craig. “But fust, Cap'n, hadn’t we better run some bullets an’ fill our powder horns?” inquired old Joe Smith,the scout, “Yes, Joe, but where are we to find these things? Our ammunition was all burnt up or stolen, except what we have about us.” “Not all, Cap'n. Come boys, foller me,’’ and the long- legged hunter strode away, Closely followed by his coin- rades. in a short time Smith paused in front of a venerable sycamore tree, and removing come bushes that lay at is base, he produced from the Cavity thus revealed, a simaill keg and a quantity of lead, which he distribated among the settlers. “Toar boys, that ammynishun war fer my own espeshil benefit, but yer am welkim ter it, seein’ as how it ar’ ter be used on the reds.”’ At early dawn the party, consisting of eleven men, started upon the trail of the murderers, who had some six or eigiit hours the start of them. There were skilful scouts in that little party, men born and bred in the back- woods, whose constant companion was the rifle, and whose greatest pleasure was in the deadly struggle witn their dusky foe, the Indian. Early in the afternoon of that bright warm dayin June, while the settlers were working in the clearing, a volley of rifleballs was poured into their midst, killing young Graig, and wounding several others. ‘Then the snrill piercing warwhoop of the Pottowattomies rang out upon tne air, answered by a shout of defiance from the white men as they hastily grasped their weapons and bounded to cover. For some mon.ents a desultory firing contin- ued, when the Indians, as with one accord, bounded from che scene of combat and fled, closely pursued by the en- raged settiers. Mile after mile was traversed in that ex- citing chase, until the darkness of night began to des- cend over the woods, and not until tne trees seemed strangely blended togetner, did the impetuous frontiers- men cease the pursuit. When they retraced their steps they found the distance full twice as far as they deemed, and not until far past midnight did they arrive in the neighborhood of their cabins. A curious smell as of burning wood now became perceptible and as glances passed from: One to another, it was evident that tue same thought occurred to all. Follow me!’ shouted Mr. Craig, ‘‘the Indians have been here? ; Not another word was spoken, but every man braced his muscles and strained every nerve to reach the goal g00n as possible. Alas, they soon learned the sad truth; and what pen can portray their grief and anguish as they distinguished the mangled forms of those most dear to them, or the uncouth, though sincere expressions of sorrow, tne hissed yows of vengeance upon the miscreants who had done tnis fearful work? it were a vain and hopeless task. Oh, how they cursed their own stupidity in falling 1oto cue trap thus set by the cunning savages who feared to enceunter them face to face. This much to explain the opening scene of our story, and a few words in regard to the little settlement, then to follow the fortunes of our gallant party of settlers as they proceed upon their dangereus task. In the summer of 1815, Mr. Craig in company with Mr. Leigh, determined to leave tneir home in Ohio and emi- grate farther West. So, disposing of their property, they tarned it into steck, teams and agricultural implements, and the two families started in company upon their pil- grimage. From time to time they were joined by otuers, until the party contained nearly forty persons, men, wo- meu and children. Trusting to the word of our old trapper, by the name of Joe Smith, the emigrants did not stop permanently at any place until they arrived onthe shores of Kunsas, when they decided to locate, and immediately began to erect their houses. itis herethat we find them. And po wonder they were pleased at their location. On the one hand sped the turbulent Missouri river, watering the rich loamy bottom land, covered with gigantic trees; on the other, the broad rolling prairie, diversified by now and then a clump of trees or bushes, tothe nortn and south, tall rock-covered hills reared their massive heads, where could be found almost any species of game, from the timid rabbit to the deadly panther or ferocious bear. Truly it seemed a Paradise for both farmer and hunter. And the redmen, too, seemed pleased at their arrival, and strove to put them at their ease, vieing with each other in doing them kindness. Bat soon they grew tired of their pale neighbors, and strove to do them injury. This much io explain how asettlement came to be founded so far in the wilderness at such an early day. Joe Smith and Bill Jackson, the two most expert scouts, were trusted with the delicate task of trailing the In- dians, and under their guidance the pursuit was rapidly prosecuted. It is unnecessary to follow them step by step as they proceed. Suffice it to say that they were not foiled by the numerous devices invented by the Indians to throw them off the scent, and that noon of the succeeding Gay found them within two miles of their destination, where they concluded to halt until night, when they could with more safety approach the enemy’s camp. Jve Smith un- aertook to scout ahead and seeif the village, or rather camp of the Savages still remained, and, if so, to discov- er the most feasible point to enter and rescue the cap- tives. He was absent several hours, and when he re- turned, his homely face bore evidence of his success. “Wall, boys, they’re thar, though itll be hard began the scout. “But Harry, did you see her?’ interrupted Mr. Craig and Mary Leigh, in abreath. “No, I didn’t see her, but she’s thar, for I seed two or three reds as got hurt atthe scrimmage. So’f course they’s the ones we’s arter,’’ answered Joe, «‘An’ now let’s talk it over,fer it’s goin’ ter be a hard job an’no mistake. Yer see, cap’n, thir reds haiat fools, no how yer kin fix it. Ther camp is on ther other side o’ the river, an’ clus ter the water edge. A. bluff kivers the back an’ one side. On the otter side is a cl’ar perrarer, an’ nota stick ©’ timmer big enough ter hide a wood- cuack. Lucky though for us, they’ve squatted at the ford, an’ the water haint more’n knee-deep at any place thar. They’s bout fifty, I jidge, an’ lots o’ weepins. I’m ‘fered its a poor show for us!’ “But you won't turn back now, will you, Joe?” eagerly inquired Craig. ae I do yer may shoot me for a red nigger!” exclaim- ed Joe. “Sh—h boys! Ismell a red!” whispered Jackson. Instantly ail crouched closer under cover, and scarcely daring to breathe, they awaited the denouement. Pres- cully a tall, painted form came in view, and walked to- ward the ambush. “Billie, boy, yer Kile, 2 it’s heavier nor - mine,’ whis- pered Joe. “Don’t shoot, man, wud yer tell the Potts we’rea kumin’?”’ placing his hand upon the partially up- lifted weapon of Leigh, who was going to fire at the In- dian. Leave ‘im ter me, I’li fix im!” and holding the huge hunting knife between his teeth, he glided off to in- tercept the Indian. : he All awaited in breathless suspense the execution of his project, yet fearing the savage might escape, and render their object totally hopeless. Slowly the red man ad- vanced, closely scrutinizing the ground, until at last he paused, and uttering a guttural “ugh,’? he stooped to examine the traii left by the scout in his return from the Indian’s camp. He again stood erect, and cast his eyes warily and searchingly around. His gaze rested upon the bushes that concealed the settlers, and his form seem- ed carved in stone, so motionless did he stand. His sus- picions were evidently aroused. Another form now arises from the tall grass, partially behind the warrior, its arm is drawn back, then the bright steel flashes in the clear sunlight, as it hisses through the air, and is buried to the haft in the back of the Indian. A howl of mingled puin and surprise bursts from his lips; then he turns, only tobe borne to the ground by the powerful form of Joe Smith, whose brawny hand stifies the whoop that arises to the victim’s lips, then a long knife is buried once, twice, thrice in the Indian’s heart. Coolly grasping the long braided scalplock, Smith quickly circled his blade around the Indian’s head, and jerked off the scalp. Wiping his knives he came back to his friends, attaching the disgusting trophy to his belt. “Kum, Billie, guy us a lift, an’ lets put the purp out’n the way.”’ The two conveyed the body into the bushes, where they concealed it beyond chance o! discovery for a time, at least. The plan of rescue was now discussed, and was decided as follows: , The entire party were to advance as far as the river’s bank; then Smith was to enter the camp and release the captive without noise, if possible, but if he was discov- ered; they were to attack the Indians, and thus afford him an opportunity of effecting his escape with Mary, if possible. It seemed a faint hope, indeed, but was the most feasible plan under the circumstances. Night came at last, and with it the wind arose, moan- ing and howling over the prairie, while the moon was ob- scured by the dense and gloomy clouds that shrouded the earth in darkness. It seemed as though Providence was smiling upon them, and the spirits ofthe little party arose still higher. Tne river was reached, and Smith de- parted upon his perilous mission, with the pressure’of his comrade’s hands still warm upon his own, and the whis- pered ‘Heaven bless you!’ still ringing in his ears, Slowly and cautiously he crossed the river, neting the best route to return so as to avoid the numerous obsta- cles, and then he stood upon the verge of the enemy’s en- campment, A few fires were burning. and he could see the suadowy form of a sentinel as he stalked between him and the fire. Cautiously stealing around to the rear of the wigwams, close to the bluff, Smith crouched be- hind one of them, undecided what course to pursue. Presently he muttered: “It has got ter be did, fer thars no gettin’ Mary away while thet red's a watchin’ thar. That's settled /” And he drew his knife from its sheath and thrust the blade up his sleeve, holding the haft in hishand. Then prostrating himself, he slowly crawled away from the tent like an enormous lizard, and slowly approached the beat of the guard. When nearly at the desired point, his hand inadvertently pressed upon a dried twig, snapping it with a slight noise that attracted the attention of the sentinel, who cautiously peering through the dirkness, slowly advanced in the direction of the noise. Cursing his awkwardness, the scout prepared for the conflict that seemed inevitable. The savage noiselessly approached, but the glureof the fires beyond must have dulled the keenvness of his vision, for he saw not the dusky shad- ow-like form of the hunter, who was now almost at his feet. Suddenly a dark form arises before him, a vise-like grip is fastened upon his throat, a keen blade is sheathed in his heart, the hot life-blood spurts from the wound, as the deadly weapon is Withdrawn, only to again enter his brosd heaving bosom. ‘A few slight quivers, a convulsive gurgie, and those muscular limbs are stilled forever! Gently lowering the body to the ground, Joe glanced around to see if the slight noise had aroused the camp. His tear relieved, the savage scalp was added to the one at his belt, and then lifting the corpse in his arms, he carefaily pashed it into the water, where it floated with the current, down the river. Smith now returned to the camp, and noiselessly be- gan examining tne wigwamsto find the one in which Mary was confined. Here again fortune seemed to favor him, for as he list- ened at the rear of one, he heard the low sobbings of one in distress. This he rightly conjectured to be Mary. He now moved around toward the entrance, but was startled at seeing the dusky form of a man sitting in front of tne doorway, or the flap of clotn that answered forsuch. He soon discovered that it was an Indian, who was lazily paffing away upon his pipe. Again he crept forward, again the fatal knife was used, and another spirit fled to the red man’s happy hunting- grounds, sent by the hand that had dispatched his two brethren, and again a scalp was added to those that al- reauy hung at the scout’s belt. The noise of the struggle had evidently attracted the captive’s attention, for a trembling voice uttered: “Who is there?” “A iriend, Mary; but for Heaven’s sake, don’t holler! I’m ole Joe Smith, yer know, kum ter take yer back hum ier ver friends,’’ whispered the scout. “Merciful Heaven, I thank tnee! are oll dead! I have no home!’ “No they hafn’t. Yer father am hyar, an’ Harry——” “Where? where??? exclaimed Mary, in atone louder than was prudent. “Hush, gal! Fer ther Lord's sake don’t holler out like that agin, onless yer wants ter loose yer own scalp as well as mine. Ef ther blasted reds hyar yer, then all’s up. Kum, let’s make tracks !”? **] can’t; my feet are tied.’ “Wall, cuss them or’nary cusses, ter tie a °oman!”’ and the hunter entered the hut and released the prisoner. As soon as circulation was restored, the two emerged from the hut, and crossing the open space were soon safely over the river, and Mary was gathered to her father's heart, as he wept tears of joy at her rescue. That meet- ing was too sacred for the eyes of outsiders to gaze upon, aud the little band of settlers left them alone. But mo- ments were precious now, and soon the party were rapic- ly moving eastward. Their intention was to cross the Missouri river near where their former homes had been, and travel some twenty-five or thirty miles southeast to another settle- ment, called ‘‘Simpson’s Block,’”? where they would be in comparative safety. Hurriedly they followed the scout’s guidance, and as the hours passed, mile after mile was placed between them and the savages. As it grew to- ward morning, Mary became exhausted, and a litter was made for her from two rifles and a blanket, carried by the settlers, who relieved each other at intervals. Thus no time was lost, and the party pressed on heedless of fatigue, for their only hope ot safety lay in their reaching the Missouri before the Indians could overtake them. As day dawned, Jackson fell behind, to discover the approach of savages, Should they follow them so closely, and give the settlers timely notice of their arrival. Nearer and nearer they drew to the haven of safety, and they were congratulating eahh other on their ultimate escape, when the scout was observed bounding after them with a speed that soon brought him up with him. But no; my friends “Injuns! the Injuns are a kumin!’? he shouted breath- lessly, as he overtook them. ‘could foretell the result? “Injuns? Whar, how far oif?? demanded Joe, “Not more’n two miles off, an’ kumin’ like blazes!” yelled Bill. “Come men, let's run for it! cried Mr. Craig. “No, no, afore we git thar, they’ll cotch us,’? said Joe. “To ther Injun Mound!’ and catching one end of the lit- ter he bounded forward at the top of his speed. Too excited to utter a word the settlers flew over the ground, and under the heat of the blazing sun, the sweat poured in streams over their rugged faces. Still onward fled the fugitives, and now a faint yell 1s borne upon the air to their ears, and glancing over their shoulders they see, far in the distance on the crown of a swell, the forms of their relentless pursuers; still onward they flee toward the now near Mound. As they pass a creek, a herd of antelopes bound away before them, and Jackson’s deadly rifle brings one to the ground in its last agonies. Re- gardless of its struggles, he casts it upon his shoulder and speeds along. Now they reach the base of the hill, and then begin the ascent. The summit is reached and the men drop breathlessly upon the ground, “Kum men, let’s pile these hyar rocks fer a breast- work!” yells Joe, setting the example by rolling a huge boulder against another. The savages came rushing on, but at last the fort is completed, and our little party stand behind a comparatively secure cover. On rush the In- dians, as though determined to carry their position by storm. On, on, up the hill they rush, with a strange want of prudence on their part, as they soon learn to their cost, for crack goes a rifle, and an Indian utters a death yell as he flings nis arms aloft, and falls with a bullet in his brain. Two more reports, two more deaths, and the dusky horde seek such a cover as they can find, their ar- dor cooled by their warm reception. “Boys,” says Smith, “if they makea rush, for Heaven’s sake don’t all fire ter onct, or we’re goners! Let sum fire while others are loadin’, an’ we may whip ‘em yet.” The savages now began to advance nearer the stone fort, by degrees, slipping or carting from one boulder to The river aint far off!” another, with which the hill was covered. But keen eyes were on the watch, and no sooner was an inchof dusky hide revealed, than a bullet wes-Sent hissing along to feel its victim. On the other had gry of gndians securely congealed behind their coverts;rained a perfect storm of balls and arrows at the fort, and several Severe wounds were inflicted upon the besieged. As the settlers were hungry, having eaten little for the past two days, a fire was kindled and some portions of the antelope were broiling on the coals, tended by Mary, while the men defended their posts. O-4- GETTING EVEN. AN INCIDENT OF PRACTICAL JOKING. BY CHERRY BLOSSOM. We were a party of six, all strangers to each other, huddled together in a stage-coach that was making a toilsome journey over a very miserable road. There was nothing inviting in the scenery that presented itself on either side of the road, and to while away the tedious hours we were obliged to be communicative. The conversation, which had been rather desultory, suddenly merged itself into a very animated argument on the rights and wrongs of the system of practical jok- ing so prevalent in some American communities. We y Hy) 4 y) SS a Mjee ELL YE Gs WSS NSEENS SA SESS SN SNS YY y Li, NLL eorae/ Wy With Gy had all expressed ourselves freely on the matter, illus- trating either side of the question with such incidents as came to our memory. I say all, but Lshoultd expleim that only five of us took an active part in the argument, two in favor of the gen- eral harmlessness of practical joking, and three warmly representing its hurtful and unhappy results. The other party had merely deciared himself opposed to amuse- ment of that mature, and then relapsed into a deep si- lence. That he heara all that was said on either side 1 could perceive, and I was surprised to note the deepen- ing marks of pain that gatheredon his naturally sad face, and a shrinking farther into the corner in which he sat.at the mention of any painful incident. I felt sure that the subject of conversation was painful to him, and so expressed my belief, and, atthe same time, a desire to the.others that we should select a more congenial subject to talk about. He at once interrupted me, “You are right, sir,” he remarked, ‘‘in supposing that I am deeply pained;> not so much, however, at what has been said as from sad’‘memories which the mere mention of practical joking excites within me. I have never ex- cept on a very few. occasions, revealed them to any, but asI find this very questionable amusement has some warm advocates among the gentlemen present, I feel it a duty l owe to. them to reveal a page in my life history that has made me the sad wreck ofa once hopefal and joyous nature. : “T am a banker, and my name is William 7 He mentioned a name that was familiar fo us all as the head of one of our most influential banking firms, ‘“‘My partner in, business was my chum in college, and we two and James Price,” (the writer has given a ficti- tious name) ‘were inseparable companions. Price was a noble fvilow, with a great, liberal heart, brimming over with good nature, and George and myself loved him with an affection that did not grow cold in years of parting that followed. “He had but one fault in our eyes and it was one to which too many college stadents are addicted, and ia- deed which the customs of college life almost force them to embrace. It was the fault of practical joking. So powerful was this mania upon him that he could not even avoid inflicting his friends with its fraits, and many were the foilies he practiced on George and myself. Some of these were of quite a serious nature, I must con- fess, and sorely displeased us at the time of their occur- rence; but, then, who coagld retain anger or malice to- ward Price, the peer of good fellows, when he presented himself with his handsome face clouded with genuine contrition for the annuyance he had caused? Invariably the stings were forgotten and our mischievous chum was dearer than ever. “T remember only one of these clearly now, because it wasinsome degree related to after events. It was du- ring the last days of our college life, and Price could not not permit us to part from him without a last evidence of his skill in practical joking. He succeeded in making George and myself appear in a very ridiculous light be- fore our college chums, and in getting us a lecture from the Board. We were deeply annoyed this time, and though it did not change our friendship for him, we both vowed we would in some manner and at some time ‘get even with him.’ “That opportunity did not occur during our remaining days of college life, and then we parted. George and my- self entered into our present business, and Price took up his residence South, where he remained fora number of years, during which time we did not meet. On his return to the city he called upon us, and finding him the same noble, unselfish, thoughtiess Price, all our old affection for him returned, and we were happy in living over again those coliege days. We had many hearty laughs over the memory of the tricks he loved to play on us; and then he recalled the parting one, and our long forgotten promise to get even with him. ‘““*Ah, my old fellows,’ he said, slapping me on the back, in playful badinage, ‘you haven’t the heads for these things, you know, though I would love to have you try vour hands at it.’ “Now, this implied challenge was also forgotten until a week after, when he called upon us to cash a draft for some thousands of doliars. He was going out to what was then the Far West, though it is now almost next-door neighbor to us, with a view of purchasing .some lands, and therefore his need of thismoney. Then I remem- bered our threat, and his recent allusion to it. « ‘George,’ Lremarked to my partner, ‘suppose we do get even on Price for that-ugly joke of his on which he prides himself so much.’ “J would like to,’ he replied, ‘if only to convince him that we can doit. But I do not see how it can be done.’ “ ‘Basily. We have only to slip a thousand or two of those spurious notes among this package of genuine money, and 1’ll wager ihey will give an account of them- selves. “You will please understand that some weeks prior to this time a heavy haul of counterfeiters and their work had been made. Several thousands of this counterfeit paper had been left with us.as excellent specimens of the counterfeiting art. It was an amount of this stuff, repre- senting a thousand dollars in value, that I proposed to surreptitiously inclose in Price’s package, relying on his usual carelessness in money matters that he would not discover its presence at once. “If I had given the matter a moment’s serious thought, I would not have done this, but I had barely mentiened the idea and received George’s approval, when Price made his appearance to receive his money and say farewell. When he left us, that package of spurious notes was with the genuine notes in his pocket-book. Tnen 1 wished them back when it was too late. My only purpose in plac- ing them with his genuine money was that he might pre- sent oue of them for use, and the annoyance he would suffer in extricating himself from tlie’ dilemma would be retaliation sufficient for his old college pranks. “Yet 1 was not satisfied that I had done wu wise thing, or even an excusable one, though I tried to content myself with the thought that even if suspicion rested upon him, and solarge an amount of these notes were found on his person, he need only notify me to secure fullest vindica- tion. No harm could befall him, but 1 was uervously anx- ious to have a letter from him. I wanted the assurance from himself that all was well with him, and bevause it did not come I was in a fever of self-accusation and fear, In the meantime he had proceeded on his way without interruption. Having reached a border settlement, lie remained a couple of weeks among the rough, hardy, impulsive spirits whom he found settled there, and find- ing several tracts of land to please him, he purchased them. ‘The papers of conveyance Were delivered and the pukchase money paid over on the evening before his con- templated return east. “On the following morning he took a cordial leave of his new made friends, and started forthon his return. He traveled leisurely during the day, and at night, found accommodadion for himself and horse at a settier’s house. During the night he was startied by an alarming noise outside, and, before he was fairly awake, he found himself dragged from his bed bya mob of armed men, among whom he recognized those he had purchased the lands from, and many others from the same settle- ment. Without being permitted to remonstrate he was securely bound upon the back of his horse, and, guarded by the mob, was rapidly borne back to the settlement. “Not until he arrived there and was safely lodged in the primitive jail, carefully guarded, was he informed that he was charged with being acounterfeiter. He was indignant and demanded the fullest investigation. This only revealed to his speechless astonishment the presence on his person of nearly four hundred dollars in counter- feit notes, and it was revealed to him that over six hun- dred dollars of the money he had patd for the lands was also spurious, “The proof of his guilt seemed overwhelming. His evi. dent baste to leave the settlement immediately after he had paid out this money -was construed into most posi- tive evidence of his guilt, explanation of how it came into his possession; sucit statements as he did make,based on thie discovery among the spurious notes of a scrap of paper bearing three words in my hanawriting and signed with my initials, ‘Are weeven,’ were looked upon as very cunning fubri- cations, and his desire for time to secure proofs of his in- nocence and establish his honesty and fair-dealing was deemed a ruse to effect his escape. “All this, coupled with the fact that these people had for some time previous suffered severely from tne villain- ies ofa band of counterfeiters who bad ravaved the western country, but tnus far had eluded the authorities, occasioned a positive belief in the minds of the entire community of Price’s guilt, and that he was a leading spirit of this counterfeiting band. Indeed, excitement had so worked on the credulity of some that they were ready to identify him with a noted desperado, who, some years before, had been convicted ina neighboring county and afterward effecied his escape. “Tne excitement throughout the settlement was in- tense; the people demanded the immediate trial and con- viction of the prisoner on the alarming threat that, if their demand was not listened to, they would take justice in their own hands. They were only quieted by tue as- surance that he would speedily be arraigned before the court, then in session. “J jearned of these events nearly three weeks after their occurrence throegh a letter from Price. We did not have the telegraph then, and even mails were slow, irregular and unsafe means of communication. le had written me at once but his letter had been deiuyed by storms on the stage roads, had been sent to two other places through mistake, and ineach of them even deliv- ered, opeped and returned, and then it came into its rightful owner’s possession. “Price wrote cheerfully; he did not think that his con- dition was one to excite alarm,and believed that at most, it would only occasion him a few weeks’ incarceration and some annoyance. He begged me to come on at once to his relief, as all depended on my speedy presence. “] had scarcely finished reading this, when another let- ter from him, written two weeks later, was placedin my hand. it was tear-stained, and full of hopeless despair and pleading. In afew days from its date he would be arraigned for trial. He did me the justice to believe that 1 would have gone to him at once if I had received his other letter.” “*As you love me, William, come to me,’ he pleaded. ‘Only you can save me,and you may possibly reach me in time. These people are infuriateo, and if 1 am adjudged guilty, I fear tney will not be satistied with the penalty of thelaw. Jfy life is in your keeping.’ “Q, the terrible agony of nat moment, as these words seared themselves into my very soul. O, bow I cursed fate for keeping that letter from me. Lwasmad. I rushed from the office, coatless and hatless, sped through the streets like one frepzieuv, as I was, and reached a western-bound train in time to leap upcn it as it was in motion. : “1 knew nothing but that a life was in my keeping— hung upon the brittle thread of my reaching that place, which was seven days’ journey from me, in time to piace my own between it and that horrible end. I only thought that if avglit befell him I was his murderer. “Thad nojuvgment of passing time—milvutes were days of endless horror to me. I reached the ena of the railroad, and then had to depend on the stage routes, I bribed the drivers, but they would not make thew ani- mals fly, and less would not have fed my needs. I could not hire animals, for their owners would not intrust me with them and I boagtit the fastest. “Tne roads were declared impassable for man or beast, but I never hesitated, nor weuid | then if I bad foreseen death would be my fate. For three days and pights L dashed over muddy roads, through the wilderness, through swollen streams, through rain and sleet, snow, and frost, never stopping 4 moment but to batne my fev- ered mouth in some stream—never resting nor closing my eyes. ; “Jn the first village I came to they tried to secure me, believing me mad, but I would have killed any, who dar- ed to stop me then, and the people fied in terror from me. { avoided the settlements after that; three horses fell under me, and I secured others from the nearest settlers, and still I fled onward through fieod and storm, preying to Heaven to stay its vengeauce and, in the next breatu, ralling at the slowness of my pocr animals, that were goaded to madness by whip and spur. “On the morning of the fourth day, I came to that set- tlement, and dashed througn its streets witn madness in my face and movements. At first every one, men, WO: men, and children fled from me, butin afew moments they gathered around me in wonder. “T could only utter his name, and I went with them where they led, not noticing their trightened faces and looks of alarm. I thought they were taking me to his prison, but following tneir gestures—oli Heaven! there, before me, dangling Jrom a tree by a vope around the neck was the lifeless body of James Price! “] did not lose my reasonthen. I was [rozen into calm- ness; I lieard everything they said to me. He had been found guilty the day previous, and in the night just passed, when I wasso near and rushing on with life and safety to him, an infuriated mob of wretches had dragged him from his prison and hupg him up to that tree. With the rope encircling his neck ne had written these words: “ ‘You are more than even, William, for my life is the penalty. Itis not your fault, but the decree of an All- wise Power, of whom we are but the instruments. I for- give you fully and freely. Heaven bless you, my beloved friend.’ “To the last word I read this, and then reason fled its throne. “You desire to know more. For two-years I was the inmate of a mad-house. Tney thought me a hopele s case, but my wile would have metaken bome. Under her loving ministrationus, aided by the sweet mfiuence of my dear children’s presence, { was restored to reason and contentment. ldo not constantly upbraid myself now for that one awful error. I am sad-feced and Ssel- dom smile—never laugh like others, but l am happy with my family, and in doing good wherever I can. ‘Life is still dear to me, gentlemen. No man who has wealth and comforts, and uses them to help others, who has a beloved wife and beautiful children, Is so indiffer- ent to worldly existence as to be willing to part with it readily. Yet, you will believe me, when | aitirm teat I would freely pait with it to-day to have power te recall that one practical joke of my life.” ee eee ee 8@- Spotted fever prevails to an alarming extent in Daviess county, Indiana, and many deaths are occurring. Out of a school of thirty-five scholurs at Mt. Zion school house, in the German settlement, thirteen of the puptis— all of them girls—died of the disease in two weeks. TO NEWS AGENTS REMOVING. News Agents changing their places of business will confer a great favor on the proprietors of the NEw YORE WEEELY, by forwarding notice of the change of location at the earliest moment after such change has been deci. ded on. We make this request in. the interest of News Agents as well as for our own benefit. It is nothing un- usual for us to receive letters from News Agents com- plaining that in their cards, published in our Supplement Sheets, their old places of business are advertised and the card does them no good, as they have removed. li News Agents do not keep us posted as to their move- ments, they alone are to blame for not being properly ad- vertised in the NEW YORK WEEKLY Supplement Sheets. News Agents starting business, or going out of busi- ness, will, also, confer a favor by notifying us of the fact. The former, by so doing, will receive Supplements for dis- tribution in which their business cards will be promi- nently inserted; and the latter will avoid the trouble con- sequent on receiving packages, sent by’us under the im- pression that they are still in the News Agency business. Will not News Agents give the above requests a little attention, thereby saving the proprietors of the NEW YORK WEEKLY and themselves loss and trouble? STREET & SMITH, 55 Filton St., N. ¥. He could give no satisfactory. c