. the fallen mah.

 

aT

 

 

* st

 

 

ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRESS IN THE YEAR 1870 BY STREET & SMITH, IN THE CLERK'S 0

 

 

Vol. XXV.

MUSIC AND MARRIAGE.

 

BY WILLIAM ROSS WALLACE.

The delicate, sweet morning breeze

Is whispering through the trembling trees
In many varied, gentle tone,

But all are Nature’s own, dear own.

©. what delicious music breathes,
Delicious if it was alone,

While thus the red-cheeked Summer wreathes
Full reses round her zone!

Yet there is mingling with the breeze

Thus whispering through the trembling trees,
Another voice within my ear

That makes the music doubly dear.

What voice is this? My wedded love's!
Darling, with thy soft hand in mine,

And fond eyes tender as the dove’s,
Thou mak’st the song divine.

O, Heaven, thanks that on earth’s for me

ch glorious, perfect prophesy

a thine own perfect harmony

When with my spouse, now sitting here,
Amid these beautiful young flowers,

FRANCIS S. STREET,
FRANCIS S. SUITH,

 

Tl love forever in thy sphere
Of fadeless angel-bowers!

£15,000 Reward!
DEAD OR ALIVE!

By Prof. Wm Henry Peck,
Author of “Siballa, the Sorceress,” The Fortune-Teller of New
Orleans,” “The Stone-Cutter of Lisbon,” ‘“Harold’s
Hate,” “Wild Redburn,” etc., etc.

 

 

“£15,000 Reward” was commenced in No. 38. Back numbers
can be had from News Agents throughout the country.

CHAPTER VI.
“STORME IS HERE!”

Rentfroe was as braye as he was cunning, and he was as
cunning as he was merciless. There were many reasons
why he hated Childeric Storme, and all of them started up
in his brain as he pressed the trigger of his weapon, the
muzzle of which was at the moment within three feet of
the smuggler’s head.

In his eagerness to slay the sailor, Renfroe had omitted
to cock his pistol, and ere the neglect could be remedied
the smuggier’s hand was on his tyroat, and he felt him-
self hurled to the floor as if by the hand of a giant.

“Dog! hound! Have you really eee Big ith pues

t ash tt foot upon the 2 -
og A aia buire down . him, Knifeinhand. “Then
prepare to be killed py me!”’

“Do not murder me!”? gasped Renfroe, almost breath-
less, under the fierge pressure of that inexorable foot,
anda greatly bruisedfby his violent fall ‘Mercy, Cousid
Ohilderic.”

“Cousin Childeric indeed, traitorous cur! Why should
not your Cousin Childeric stave in your skull with his
néeel? Wontd it be murder to crush a spider-hearted vil-
lain named Hark Renfroe?”’ y

David Sanders was helpless to aid (if he had any desire)
Beside, the awful wrath blazing in the
face of the smuggler appalled the old man.

he boy, more bold, was about to spring between his
father’s wrath and its object, but a fiery—“Stand back,
bey!’ sharp and terrific, made the lad shrink.

yere were times when even he dared not attempt fo
stem the torrent of his father’s violence. And this was
one of them.

The life of Hark Renfroe hung upon a mere throb of

furious man’s heart. :
cat Renfroe,’? whispered Storme, with his foot still
rigid and merciless upon the man’s breast, ‘‘do you know
why I have prayed for this moment to be—the moment
when { stand upon you thus?” ;

«JI never have raised my hand against you, Cousin
Cinideric,” gasped Renfroe, as he gazed up into the ter-
riote face then bending over hima ‘Only just now--and
then it was against the smuggler outlaw, aud not against
the son of my mother’s sister.” pe

“No murder—do no murder,” said David, trembling in
his chair, “No murder, son of Evelina Storme! Let him
rise.”

“Not yet, not yet! Oh, David Sanders, for years this
man—this wolf has held my heart in his fangs as my heel
holds him now. This is my dear Cousin Hark Renfroe,
who beguiled my headstrong youth—persuaded me to
folly, and would have enticed me to commit foul crimes,
All that is developed baseness and badness in me now I
owe tohim. Hark Renfroe, where is my wife?”

“Your wife! I—I know nothing of your wife,’”’ stam-
mered Renfroe, but with a sudden chill at his heart.

“His wife??? thought David. “Does he mean the
mother of his children? I heard him say she was dead.”

“Hark Renfroe,’”? continued Storme, ‘perhaps you do
not lie. Because | am notsure that you have lied in say-
ing you Know nothing of my wife, Ispare you. But do
not feel secure, for I am onthe trail of those who robbed
me of my wife. Iam in their wake, and itis the aim of
my life to run them down, and if, as I suspect, you were
one of them, by my hand you shall die.”

“I kpow nothing of your wife—never knew that you
had a wife—only suspected that you were the smuggler
Storme, because the name was also yours. I swear it!”

“Even as it is—even if you have not aided in robbing
me of my wife,”’ said Storme, ‘I do know that you are
eager tosee me dead. Why should I spare you?”

“Father,” said tne boy, now advancing boldly, “spare
him, because you have never shed blood except in self-
de fense.”’ ;

“*fwould be in self-defense now, Chil’ric. Ah! my
boy, you do not know, you could not appreciate did you
know the injury I have suffered—and I suspect from this
man’s enmity, But you are right—always right, Chil’ric,
I have never murdered a man,and men would call this
ft —"1rder, and the stain would ever rest upon you and
Orie. Get up, Hark Renfroe, but speak in whispers, and
sitthere at thattable. Try to callin aid, even by a wink
ofyour eye, andasIam a living man, to be a dead man
themoment after the deed, I will slay you. Take that
seat, You shall not leave this room, nor be beyond reach
of my knife until justice has been done to me and mine
in the matter of my motlier’s property. Sit down!
There !?

Hark Renfroe was no craven-hearted man, but a very
prudent one, Could he have seen a single fair chance
for escape or successful resistance, he would, bruised as
he was, have fought desperately to secure it. He knew
that he wasa strong and active man, but ine ease witb
which the smuggler had hurled him to the floor had told
him that his enemy was far his superior in prowess. He
recognized that he was in the power of a desperate man,
who seemed careless, reckless of the hot pursuit every-
where being madeto capture orkill him. So he sat in
the chair and faced his hated cousin with a pale but
haughty face.

“You came here, Hark Renfroe, to see David Sanders,
Your business now is with me as Cnilderic Storme. You
May have business with me at some hot distant day as
Oaptain , but I will not speak of that now. You
may know what | mean. If you are guilty you are sick at
heart, though your treacherous face can lie, I know you
well. l remember once I saw you smile to hide your pain
and terror while a dog youhad teased mangled your hand
intoa filly. Perhaps | am now a dog you are teasing.
When I know that, it will not be your hand that I.shall
mangle. It will be your head. Now, in the presence of
Mr. David Sanders, you recognize me as Childeric Storme,
lawful heir of Evelina Storme. You, Mr. Sanders, are
familiar With all the terms and forms of law. Listen.”

He whispered rapidly in the ear of the old man, who
produced at once writing materials from his pocket and
began to write.

“How long am I to be kept a prisoner ?’’ asked Renfroe,
with a glance over his shoulder at Storme.

“Patience. Not long,’’ was the stern reply.

David Sanders, quick with the pen, soon completed his
writing,and read it aloud.

“And Iam tosign that?? demanded Renfroe.

“You are to sign that.’ :

 

 

 

 

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} Proprietors.

   

“X full resignation of all my claim to inherit the Storme
estate! I will net.” : ae

“You will in less than three minutes,”. said Storme, as
he placed a cocked pistol against his captive’s temple. “I
am no jester. You are nearer death than you ever were
in alt your fife, Hark Renfroe-cnearer than when I drew
you half dead from Ulisburg lake years ago. Hal a fine
aor you made me for saving your life then! Sign or

ie 1

Renfroe muttered a curse and signed.

“Do not swear yet,” said Storme, as he glanced sharply
at the signature, ‘‘You- will be called upon to swear
presently. I am ready and willing to. put a ball through
your head though I die the instant after, 1am about to
send for a magistrate.’’

“Ah! a magistrate !’’

“A justice of the peace and two witnesses,”’

“| have no objection,” said Renfroe, his eye sparkling.

' “And I shall require you to swear to this signature in
the presence of the magistrate,and he shall affix bis official
certificate to this document. But do not think that I fear
you can betray me. Ido notthink you are ready to die,
Hark Renfroe. But, should any acton your part, even
the slg» test twinkle of your eyelid, lead meto think other-
wise, I shall kill you instantly. Man, 1 would kill you as
quickly and recklessly as I would crush a scorpion.”

Renfroe gazed searchingly at the stern face of the
speaker, and saw that a desire to slay him flamed in his
eyes. He had not forgotten the iron will, the fierce spirit,
the dauntiess courage that had made the boyhood of Chil-
deric Storme a wonder, and he knew that such charac-
teristics could only have been intensified in the formida-
ble smuggler chief.

“Mr. Sanders,” said Storme, “you are well acquainted
with the people of this place.- Will you please find and
conduct to us a justice. of the, peace?”

David glanced anxiously at Hark Renfroe, who sat mo-
tionlessly, his brow. Knitted, his thin lips compressed,
his dark eyes half-veiled by his downcust gaze at the
floor. .

“He is plotting. He is a dangerous man,’? whispered
David. ‘He is cunning, brave, strong, and active.”

“I am the same,’ rephed Storme, aloud. ‘Il am ready
to measure cunning, bravery, strength and activity with
him, as T have successfully done for years with the marine
of England. Besides, Hark Renfroe loves life. I care
little for it. Perhaps he knows why. Perhaps he has
made me care litile for life. He knows me. Call a
magistrate—but stop! For you to do so might make you
my accomplice. They would denounce you for not be-
traying me out there.”

“Tliat is very true,’ replied David, resuming his seat.

“Yes, you would surely be accused and arrested. You
did not Know you were to meet the smuggler Storme
when you entered this room. The smuggler Storme does
not permit you to leave it. Name some magistrate.”

“There was one in the public when I left it. He is
called “Squire Vapor.’

“Good, my lad, go ask the landlady to come hither im-
mediately, with Mr. Vapor, in an affair of importance.
You may be as speedy as vou can.”

The boy unlocked one of the doors and hurried away.

Storme then placed himself immediately behind Ren-
froe, the latter seated and facing the table, and thus front-
ing the deor by which the magistrate was expected to
enter,

Storme stood with his left hand resting upon Renfroe’s
shoulder. His other hand could not be seen by any one
standing before the table.

‘Hark Renfroe,”’ he said, in a threatening tone, ‘‘they
say you are cunning. So am I. I am more—for lama
desperate man. I have my left hand on your shoulder—
you feel the gripe of my fingers. In my other hand [hold
a cocked pistol—you feel its muzzle as I press it against
your back. If I press the trigger I shall blow your back-
bone to atoms.”’

Renfroe, brave ashe undoubtedly was, shuddered un-
der the desperate calmness of this reckless man.

“Remember! If I suspect—if I simply suspect betrayal
from you I shatter your spine on theinstant. If you hes-
itate to obey—you die. Tne eyes of my son will be fixed
upen your face. He is vigilant, and swift as lightning to
defend, to avenge me. My eyes shall be on the faces of
those who frout us, If 1lsee the slightest recognition of
the truth in their faces—you die. My ears shall be atten-
tive tomy son. If he utters a cry, if heeven coughs, ever
su slightly—you die. Theysay you area strongman. So
ani. I prove it.”

As he spoke the last werds he closed his iron fingers
upon the shuddering shoulder he grasped.

Renfroe involuntarily uttered a cry of pain. He feared
his shoulder was dislocated. The gripe of the smuggler
was as strong us the jaws of a Lon.

“That 1s a hint,’”? continued Storme, “You will not
bave mucli to say. You will have littie todo. The affair
will soon be over—especially if you hesitate to obey.
You now understand your positiou. Now, Ws you like,
try to devise a way to bring arrest upon me, without
bringing sudden deat! upon yourself.”

Storme ceased to speak, and the silence remained un-
broken, save by Reufree’s short and tremulous breathivg.

“He is, as he says, desperate,” thougot Reniroe. “ile is
mad! lamin the clatch of amadman! Only a madman
would dare the peril he is chalienging. If the boy
coughs lam to die. What if the lad coughs accidentally.
My God, suave me! Deliver me from this peril, and L swear
tu bea better man than Ihave been. I will become a
good and }wly man. Save me, deliver me, and I will live
to undo all the evil [have done! Deliver me, and, UU pos-
sible, I will restore his lost wife to this man! Aun! she is

 

 

 

dead!’?

 

 

NEW YORK,

 

 

 

 

   

 

apelin,

JULIA SANDERS AND {SIR JULES DE GRESSY,

   
 
  
 

Bathed in Asweat of terror, Hark Renfroe awaited the
return or the? whose very bfeatiing might hs believed
to be a cought by the suspiciouysmob¢, And the
slightest exclamation of whgm>wa eath upon

Hark Renfro’. \

' Ghilderic soon returned, 2
oi a party whose footsteps could be heard co
the hall behind him...”

’ As the boy entered he clapped his hands violently to-
gether, and coughed. : ;

“God have mercy! -am a dead man!’ mentally ex-
claimed Renfroe,. who imagined his hour had ‘come.

. “Sol” thought Storme, as he recegnized these signals
of imminent danger near at hand, ‘There are revenue
officers coming with the magistrate? .

He cast a quick glance toward thgother door, and his
son glided to'it instantly, placed his back against it,
his hands behing him, and fixed his steady, vigilant eyes
upon the face of Hark Renfroe.

Renfroe shuddered as he met that intelligent stare, and
a kind of stupor seemed to chain his mind.

In a moment after Dame Boxy weddied into the room,
followed. by the mouidy-faced tapster and an elderly,
simple-looking country gentleman,

“How his eyes glare. He must. be the smuggler!’
thought Putnutrer, as he hung in the rear behind the ex-
pansive shoulders of Dame Boxy. . “I ben’t ready to take
eT ee not even for fifteen thousand pounds twice
told, x

‘Squire Vapor, Mr. Clyde; Mr. Clyde, Squire Vapor,’’
Said the dame, with an elephantine courtesy.

“T think there are others in the hall, Dame Boxy,’ re-
plied Storme, carelessly.

“Two officers of the Coast Guard, Mr. Clyde, who have
just arrived, and who say they must See every man, young
or old, now in the Pipe and Pitcher, as they has a suspicion
that the great smuggler, Captain Storme, may be here in
disguise. I told him I had as good a pair of eyes as any
detective in or out o’ London.”

“So you have, Dame Boxy.”

“And that I’d be a fool not to recognize the smuggler in
any disguise, after that description.”

“Very true, Dame Boxy.”

The dame was evidently in a fame and fret of offended
dignity at the demand that had been made to searcn her
inn. She snorted with wrath, Her fat face was as red
as a beet.

Her nose was up in the air, and her bosom heaved like
bounding billows—or pillows.

“I vowed tothe fellers with the gold-laced caps that
they should not intrude upon my guests witliout the con-
sent of my guests, especially you, Mr. Clyde.”’

The dame was armed with an enormously long kitchen
spit, which she brandished out in the hall, while her huge
person completely filled the door-way.

“Oh, let them come in, dear Dame Boxy,” said Storme,
with well-feigned eagerness. ‘I need two distinguished
witnesses toa small affuir of business between me and
Colonel Hark Rentroe.”’

Dame Boxy stood aside, and ee otro: of the Coast
Guard, well armed, came in a pace Or two.

“Il am glad to see you, gentlemen,’’ said Storme, eyeing
them boldly. “But Captain Storme is dead. Colonel
Hark Renfroe will tell you that,” '

The sharp thrust of the unseen pistol against his back
warned Renfrve,

“Captain Storme is dead,’ he said.
in the Ulisburg Gazette.” i

“AS you may read in that paper,” continued Storme.

David Sanders iustantly placed the newspaper in the
hands of oue of the officers, anu beth Arew asicle to read it.

“You needed my services, 1 488 told, Mr, Ciyde,” Smid
Mr. Vapor, who wasin a hurry to return to his bowl of
punch, and a select party of topergin the bar room.

“Yes, if you please, Colonel Hark Renfroe—you are ac-
quainted with nim???

“Certainly—greeted him as he passed through the ‘pub-
lic’? a while ago. Whatis it? Lam io the middle of a
game of cribbage.”’

«Col. Hark Renfroe wishes you to attest his signature
here—ple, se read it.”

“No—I have not my readitg specs with me. I left
them in the pavlic. No matter—what isit?’ asked Mr.
Vapor, who was quite unsteady on his legs.

“He resigns all right to inverit the Storme estate——”

“Ob, that is a great name just now. Is this your signa-
ture, Colonel Renfroe 2”?

*Icas,’? replied Renfroe, in a hollow voice, and yielding
his will under the sudden sharp pressure upon his
shouider.

The necessary forms were completed in baste by the
thirsty magistrate, who tuéen Lurried away, Saying, as lhe
departed:

“If anything more is needed, call on me in the morn-
ing. as | am heart and soul just now in my little game of
cribbage.””

“Just our luck,’? cried one of the officers. ‘‘The fellow
is killed, and we lose ali ehance of reward, Jem.”?

“Yes; and so ne harm is done by our sending all our
force over toward Edgeton, You Know you were afraid
if we had the luck to find’ him here, you and I wouldn’t
be able tu take nim alive.”

“Take him vlive! Baht Iintended to shoot him down
like a mad dog,” said the other, with a bitter oath of
chagrin. “How reads the reward? ‘Fifteen ‘thousand
Pounds! Dead or Alive? Pd been a fvol to give more
than one a chance to share in that; so I too care to send
all cur force over toward Edgetown, and that’s twenty
miles away. Poor devils! they are spurring like mad in
that direction, now.”

“Yes; and the smuggler is crow’s meat, already. So,

‘Tt is so published

   

AUGUST18, -1870.

 

FF;CE OF THE DISTRICT COURT FOR THE SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF NEW YORE.

lev’s go and také a cnp of consolation, hot. and strong,
and then ride after our fellows.** ‘
So saying, the Officers hurried away, followed by

+ Dame Boxy, and ait Dave tapster.

“It is over! said David Sanders, drawing a long
breath, of relief.

“No }? exclaimedStorme, as heymade a_rapid (eceture,
meant for his son, who instantly locked the dooleading
into the hall. ‘As that tapster left, Isaw him grin, and
take the arm of one of the officers. He is a coward, and
means to stipulate for the greater part of the reward be-
fore he speaks of his belief that lam Captain Storme.. I
saw that belief in his face. I am off. Hark Renfroe, I
am on the solution of that’ mystery which tortures my
heart and brain; but you shall-‘not see me go.” ;

As he spoke, the smuggler dealt Renfroe a terrible blow
on the head with the butt.of his pistol, and Renfroe fell
forward upon his face, as if dead.

“Great Heaven! you have killed him !”’ exclaimed Da-
vid, aghast. ;

“No fear of that, David,” said Storme, contemptuously.
“He is only stunned. Take good care of that document,
David. I leave my children in yourcare. Kiss me, Chil-
‘ric! Heaven bless you! You know I am not the bad
man they call me.”?

“Oh, father! let me go with you!” sobbed the boy, as
Storme pressed him to his bosom.

“What! and leave little Orie to pme for us! No, be both
father and brother to our darling Orie, my lad. We shall
be united again.”

Another embrace, and the desperate man fled from the
room by. the rear door, and in a moment after was out
in the open air of the dark night.

‘I fear Colonel Renfroe’ is dead,” said David, staring
wildly at the motionless form of the man onthe floor.
Indeed I know not what todo. I thinkI must cailin the
people.”

“Not yet! not yet! Give my father all the chance we
can! Say I threatened your life!” cried the daring boy,
as with ready hand he drew a pistol and leveled it at the
head of the old man.

“Aye, they’ll not harm a lad iike you for trying to aid
his father. But asthere is no one here, pray turn that
pistol aside, my boy!’ said the timid old man. ‘‘And it
is such a spirit as this I am torear to manhood!’ he
added with a groan and a shudder.

But just then Renfroe opened his eyes, glared wildly
around, and not seeing Storme, sprang to his feet like a
madman in his rage. :

“Where is he! Help! murder! The smuggler! Storme!
Help! Boy, which way went your rufilan of a father?”

“Pd sooner put a ball through your head, aye, or
through my own, Hark Renfroe, than tell you or any
man,” said Childeric, boldly.

At the same moment hasty feet were heard falling
thick and fast in the hall without.

The pain of his hurt head made Hark Renfroe groan and
stegger to a chair, in, which he sank down heavily, bloody
and weak,

“They are coming! Let them break in—for neither you
nor I will open the door,” said Childeric to the trembling
old man.

‘Help! murder! help! Haste!’’ cried Renfroe, stagger-
ing ‘to his feet again, and stepping wildly toward the
door, for his confused brain aeceived him into the belief
that Storme was still in the room—certainly not far off.
“Storme ishere! Storme is here]’’

 

CHAPTER VII.
DAVID LIGHTS HIS PIPE.

Before Hark Renfroe could reach the door it was bro-
ken in with a great crush, and the two officers sprang in
with weapons raised and ready to make instant death of
the smuggler chief had he been there.

i “He’s off{ Oatch him if you can!” exclaimed Chil-
eric.

“Yes—the man Clyde was he !’ roared Renfroe. “Away!
he cannot be far away.”

“You said he was dead.”

“The cursed paper lied. Clydeis Storme. Rouse the
town! Away! we lose time here!’ bellowed Renfroe,
clear-minded now, and smarting with pain.

In another instant the room was vacated by all except
the boy and the old man. And in anotlier the great bell
of theinn began to clang and clatter, as Mr. Putnutter
heaved at its rope and wheel.

Mr. Putnutter, being of slight build, was sometimes lift-
ed a yard or two in the air vy the swing and whirl of tne
heavy bell, but he clung to the rope and tugged like a ter-
rier, chanting these words as his lean legs flapped and
danced:

“1 pointed him ont! Goo—doo—del! I pointed him
out! Goo—doo—del! If they take him the reward will
be mine! Goo—doo—del! Of course they’ll nab bim,
dead or alive ! Goo—doo—del! Fifteen thousand pounds,
dead or alive! Forme! Putnutter! Yes! Goo—doo—
del |”?

But as Childeric heard the clang of the bell he said:

“Ay, only a whole town can take Captain Storme, and
then not aliye.”

David Sanders stared at the boy in silent admiration.

True, Cnilderic’s eyes were filied with tears, for he de-
votedly loved his father; but his beautifully molded fea-
tures were firm and proud, and the tears did not dim the
steady fire of his defiant glance.

“A noble face! A grand face!’? muttered old David
Sanders, as he gazed at the boy. ‘It is well that his
father desires to remove him from the dangerous asso-
ciations of a smuggier’s life. Let us hope they will not
catch your father, my boy,” he said, aloud.

, Ihree Dollars Per Year.
TERMS, {7w00 Copies Five Dollars.

 

 

 

 

No. 40.

“Oh, Iam very sure they will not cateh him to-night,”
replied the boy. ‘Il am not thinking of that, sir; but it
mnakes me very sad to be parted from papa, aud to know
that he is being hunted down like a wolf or a mad dog,
when I know, too, that he is good and kind, and hus
never harmed any one. But some day,’ added he, asa
flash of his daring spirit lighted up tne gloom that had
begun to cloud his heroic face, “I shall be old and strong
enough to fight for him.”

“Better as it is, my boy—far better.
and sleepy »

“Sleepy! I do not think I can sleep, for dreaming of
my father.”

“On, but you must take some rest. I say so,’’ said Da-
vid, with an attempt to look resolute, and very douvtful
of its reception.

“Father told meto obey you, sir,” replied Childeric,
respectfully, ‘‘and I will do it, for I have never disobeyed
him in all my life.’’

“Right—always right,’ said David, unconsciousiy re-
peating the phrase of the smuggler. “It is a Wonder to
me how the boy was so admirably reared by my fiery
friend of the sea. Wonderful !”’

But at that instant Dame Boxy made her appearance,
much flushed in visage and agitated in feature,

‘David,’ said she, sinking slowly and cautiously into a
chair, and so swallowing it up, as it were, in her im-
mense expanse of gown—‘“David, tell meit air a scandal
—acolumy. Don’t go for to tell me that Mr. Ciyde, with
ae ee viskers, vos Captain Storme—now

on’t

“It is true, I am sorry to say, dame.
loud—this is his son.”

“David, he vos an uncommon handsome man, and a—
a vidderer, too. But to think a reg’lar smuggler capt’in
has been here in the Pipe and Pitcher!’

With this last exclamation, she lifted her eyes and
hands to the ceiling, and added:

“Boxy! oh, Boxy! could you hev survived it? You
might—for you was tough, Boxy! But if you ain’t in
Hears Boxy, that toughness ought to be a consolation

0 you.’

“Dame, our young friend needs rest. To-morrow I
will relieve you of all care of the children—Mr. Clyde’s
children—let us always speak of him as Mr. Clyde.”

“Certainty, Davie—I can never think of him as Cap-
t’n Storme; and as for that matter, Davie, the children
can remain here just as long as they like—their board
and expenses being regularly paid, I mean, in advance.”

“Davie, I say, you don’t see so very much resem-
blance atween the children to each other, nor to their
father, do you? I don’t, Davie.”

“Well, il must say there is a marked family resem-
blance In all three,” ~

“David Sanders, don’t provoke.me by contradiction. I
never could abear that, Somehow I don’t see a particle
of resemblance. On, I forgot—I have a note for you.
Here it is. Maybe it air a love letter, Davie.”

“A Jove letter!’ laughed the old man, as he took the
note. ‘‘Ah! if it were for you,it might be. Why, itis
backed in a beautiful female hand, too,”

“So it is, Davie.”

“A strange hand to me,” said David, shaking his head,
and breaking the seal. |

He read the note, and continued to shake his head,

But you are tired

 

Don’t speak so

muttering:
“I do not understand it,’
oi‘ Wot is it, Davie, af the®ynestion suits you ?* ne

“A sorry jest, as it is not All Fools Day. It says:

“‘Light your pipe with this, ,David Sanders.’ Noe
more.” { .

“it were given into my hand by Dotty, the mail-boy
from Little Ulisburg, Davie. Well, light your pipe with
it, since it is the chaff of some light-headed loon.”

David filled his pipe, smiled in’a puzzled way. and
touched one end of the note to the flame of the candle.

As the heat began to act upon the paper, and before it
could take fire, the old man saw black lines of a firm,
strong handwriting begin to start into sight.

He uttered a cry of surprise, and withdrew the note
quickly.

“Don’t burn your fingers, Davie. Oh, bless the boy! he
ra fallen asleep !’ said Dame Boxy, looking toward the
ad.

“No, I have not,”’ exclaimed Childeric, opening his eyes
as bright asa star. “1 was thinking with my eyes shut
—of father.’

Meanwhile David had read these words in the note,
words drawn out clearly by the heat of the candie, as ine
BOk EHR old isan held the mysterious note over the

ame:

- ne me Cave of Hawthorn Grove... Come immediately.

. De C.

“Dame Boxy!’ almost shouted the old man, snatching
up his hat and cane. *‘A chaise! a gig! a berse!”?

As he spoke he poured a shower of gold pieces upon his
head. In his sudden excitement he had forgotten tne
coin in his hat.

“Heaven deliver us!’? cried Dame Boxy, amazed.
“What ails the man! and where did all the gold come
from! And what on earth do you want with a chaise}?

“My father gave him the gold,” said Cnilderic.

“And l want to go to—to go to—ahem—to Little Uils-
burg!? stammered David, dancing with imputience,
*“Here—I’m off. ?

 

 

“Stopl? gasped the dame, grasping David’s arm. “You
are gone crazy! Going to have the gold y
“Gold! What’s gold to me now! Hal! ha! Sir Jules,

now look to your ewn! Hurrah! my time is at hand!
a Let me go, you fat old fool |”? roareu David, strug-
gling.

He would have struggled in vain in the dame’s power-
ful hands had he not uttered the last insulting words,
But on hearing them Dame Boxy dealt him a cuff, and re-
coiled to a Chair, where she sat down panting.

“Oh! Oh! that I should have lived to be called a fat old
fool! and by Davie Sanders!’

The old man was gone like a flash.

““He’s gone mad,” said the dame, reflectively, and ad-
dressing the ceiling. ‘He’s wild asa wet cat, Boxy. I
allers said his troubles would run him daft. ‘A fat old
fool » Oh! you used to call me that, Boxy—andif you
are a briling for it now, Boxy, I can’t pity ye. What are
you doin’ of, my boy?”

“Picking up Mr. Sanders’ money,’’? replied the lad.
“Father gave it to him. I have it all now, I think.’

“Oh, you needn’t hunt around for it, my pretty boy. If
any is found after, why I’li take care of it for Mr. San-
ders, since he is gone crazy. Bring tother candle, my
ear, and Pll show you to yourroom. This has been a
night of peradventures! Captain Storme has talked soft
to me, and Davie Sanders has gone ravin’, stavin’, star-
in? mad!’?

And followed by the boy, she left the room, muttering:

“But, Lord bless me! Mr. Clyde bad the finest pair o’
whiskers I ever saw—and ne is a widderer! I jast hope
they won’t catch him, nor shave off them whiskers if they
catch him.??

Leaving Dame Boxy and her hopes for the present, we
must hasten to introduce the reader to characters which
are to play a far more important part in this stery.

While the events we have narrated were trauspiring at
the Pipe and Pitcher, Sir Jules Amoor De Cressy, lord of
Cressy Hall and the vast Cressy estate, had been fora time
dreamily listening to the music of a guitar, touctied
gently by the soft hand ofa fair-haired and blue-eyed
lady, in one of the parlors of the Hall.

It was not a Saloon for the reception of guests, but a
favorite and retired apartment of Sir Jules, secure in its
luxurious privacy from the prying eyes and pricked-up
ears which ever infest, like vermin, a house of many ser-
vants.

The furniture and appointments ofthe room were of
the richest material aud taste—the seleetion of the last
predecessor of Sir Jules, Sir Childeric De Cressy, who
fiad perished at sea some twelve years before we intro-
dace Sir Jules.

All that taste and gold could procure now surrounded
its two occupants, Sir Jules and the lady with the fair
hair.

He was aman far below the medium statue, almost di-
minutive in trath, of cold and haughty mein, which be
desired should be deemed stateliness—though he would
have giadly parted with many of his broad acres to adda
few iuches to his hight. That he was very short sat
heavily upon a stomach fall of vanity.

His features must have once been remarkably hand-
some; though wnen we present Lim they were huugity,
supercilous, cold, and warped witha pervading expres-
sion of contempt for his interiors in wealth and rank.

His hair and beard were sand-colored, and in strange
contrast with the inky-biack eyes, and heavy beathug
eye-brows as black. His dress was of the richest mate-
rial ana latest style, for in his garb the baronet was acon-
tirmed dandy.

His age was apparently between forty and forty-five.

 

He bore his age well. Time and he had fought many a

 

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q

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

9
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x

sharp battle over the fi afew. but time had won that
and many more, and vearred the corners of his eyes—
those brilliant, cruel eyes—with thé wolg of his inexor-
able scythe, ner left his face untouched. “Hisxce girlish-
like compiexten had faded sorely into a salwwness un-
deniavle,

The lady, seated not fay from him upon a crimson otto-
man, with meck, throat, atid shoulders white as frost, and
fauttiess in their monid, Was in fact fully thirty-five, yet
$e delicately had time ®ouched her charms of form and
face, that even a practiced eye would havé readily judged
her to be not more than twenty-five.

She is to play an tportant part in our story. The
reader will pardon a partial portraiture of Julia Sanders,
the second wife of old David Sanders,

She was superbly beautifal. The homeliest features—
and hers were exquisite—would have been attractive
witk her dazzling, fair, Saxon complexicn, so smooth,
polished, and smow-like, that a breath too rudely blown
upen it might have seemed like an attack upon the pol-
Jen of some rare flower. There was nota single homely
feature in her face. Her loveliness, asa whole, was in-
@escribable, her Geauty a master-work of nature and art
combined. Her hair, alight golden, and massive, soft
aid polished as virgin silk. Her form, too, was as fault-
fess as her face, and the rich garb of cestly satin she wore,
and all that she wore was also fauitless.

She had @nee loved Sir Jules. That was when he bore
another rane, and was the adventurer and not the baro-
net. He ha@ once loved her, so far as his coarse and
sensuous mavure was capable of love—for his heart, like
his lip and shin, was was all animal—goatish.

There ™as no love between them mow, though slander-
ous tongues hinted there was, and though poor old David
Sanders, the deserted husband, ‘believed there was. She
was his housekeeper, the head lady:of his house, and no
more to him. He told the world she was a distant rela-
tive, impoverished and disgusted with her late union with
& foolish; jealous, ruined old man. j

That was a he, for she was,-so ‘far as Sir Jules knew, !
no relative of his, remote or near. She was simply his
housekeeper, a lady to sit at the table as a poor relative, ;
the ehief lady of his numerous household, |

She had been more to him, twenty years before she,
turred her back, in scorn and repudiation upon David
Sanders, Time was when sue believed she was the wife
ofthis now wealthy baronet. 1t was when he was an ad- |
venturer, aS we Shall relate-‘hereafter. ‘

How she came again to be connected with him in her}
present position will soon ‘be known to the reader. He
was aman awio cared nothing for the sianders of society.
He smiley at them... They Ean gratified his vanity.
Tke presence of this beautiful Woman in his house by no
desireof his own, as wilibe seen, was,yet a Constant flat-
tery toshis vanity. r

fe believed She loved ‘him as she had years ‘before.
But he was.careful to be-on his. guard—treatibg her only
as.a privileged servant when they were alone togetier.
In brath he avoided heres far as he could.

He hated her.

Wie let that sentence >stand by itself, for he hated her
and more. : :

ie feared her... ,

He hated and fearei'her, and intended to be rid of her,
at some future time, when the chance to wipe her ifrom
his sight and home should loom up tair and certain.

An hour had passed in that parlor, its silenceunbroken
by a single word from him. Héaveéen only knows of what
he, was thinking. No doubt of himself. Men who are’
mere imsects amid’ the great roar and rush of jife, are
much given to imagine their little buzz and whiz are as
esseniial.to the world’s progress as the sunisnecessary

that there should'be light and heat.

Sir Jules was one of these men, wifh a great.deal ofthe
wasp, thé hornet and the robber-fly in‘him. © | :

She had been, singing and playing upon ‘her guitar.
Her voice, like herself, waS perfection, Her jplaying was
faultless, and at times the parlor had thrilled with her
exquisite melody. She sang no plaintive ballad, no heart-
mehing,.ditty, but. grand and triumph-breathing airs,
with, deep. and swelling choruses, which rolled and meited
into enehanting.music from her vermillion lips, with every
Variation, and excellence of tone and style.

,»At last,some air prompted him to speak.

“Mrs. Sandérs?? .. ”

She paused and looked up. Then after aiglance atithe
clock—and, while she sang and played her-eyés had stolen
many aglance at the clock—and threw: the guitar aside
with a weary gesture, murmuring:

“It is time!, They are doubtless there—if.Jerome has
not failed me.” re wee

“Mrs, ‘Saunders!’ see

“At your-service, Sir Jules,’? she replied, coldly, and
Tising from tne ottoman. — ao

“Thad to.call your name twice, madam.”

» “Pardon. ‘I am sorry, sir.’ “oe Fe

“The name of Sanders—which I abhor, as being that of
your husband.’? mit raved

“Itis my intention to change it.”

“Goed! -Any name but that—as I ‘told you when

:

the

         
   

fellow was arrested. Are you going'to get a divorceand
inarry—ahem! Hark Beep aockee the baronet, comb-
his fesen beard with his white and girlish fingers,

vorged than I am, Sir Julés,
i ami,” she ‘replied. “I hate

of Oressy Hall.
anders, you sliould be aa
Play @nd sing that air
how does it run? tra-li-ra!—

: ‘Cressy! she said, suddenly, and with a
red spot springing to each cheek. <“‘I can see that you
are trying.to affront me by your sneering mimicry. You
wish me'to leave the room. You are trying to pick a
quarrel with mé.° Well, let us have:a quarrel.”

» “A quarrel ?) he exclaimed, and:annoyed by her man-
ner. U Band Li o Hot. quarrel with my housekeepers. I

   

 

discharge tiem:
“Discharge me, Sir Jules.’? 7 ,
“My soul! T-should be delighted éf you would let'me,”?

said he, frowns. “You are welcome to return to David

Sanders this / ee era tg : ;
. +David Sanders fy thing to ime, now, Sir Jules, and,
can never be. agi .. true, the world says I am dishonor-
ing his name—and What truth ‘there is in that you can
tel73s+ ai eceeee “i :
«The world isvery much of 2 fool, Mrs. Sanders, if it
imagines I care:tor vert 1usays. I Know that you area
living i¢iclé, an %4 ays were, except when you thought
well, we hay greed not to-speak of what you once
thought you, we ae ss

Yow tavan T was not a living icieke when I thought I
was your wife,-Sir Jules.”

“Silence, woman,’? he exclaimed, with sudden fierce-
ness, and glancing uneasily around. ‘Have what you
never were famous for having—discretion.”

“You are afraid some one may overhear us !"’ she said,
and it was wonderful to see how her beautiful face could
become that of a sneering fiend, put beautiful still. You

 
 
  

46

_ a a St

4 quick voice, continued, as ske moved her seat very far

 

“T will not listen——”

“You shall stop your ears then, coward,,with, your
hands, that you may not hear of your cowardly deeds !”?.
she cried. 4 ae

“Oh, If youare really, going to,be violent—well, \begin !
Should I chance to fall asleep, pray, do not disturb me.

  

ing one of his small and elegant feet toward her.
should be a judge, as lL heard you were once a ballet-’
dancer. After I, aha! parted from you, I think you\were
a popular danseuse in Paris. Pray, are my shoves really
the thing, if you and J were to try a pas-de-deux now ??

She fushed deep red, and stared at him Scornfully.

‘Or, as you rose ee and became, I have heard, a
tragedy-queen,’’ he added, mockingly,. aud crossing his
feet, ‘you are about to give me a private rehearsal of a
tragedy.’’ .

“Tragedy or comedy—you are to hear it, and you will
not go W sleep.” :

“Good! Pray, be seated, madam. I have a constitu-
tional horror of seeing a lady, oreven a woman like you,
standing in my presence. Here! I light this cigar te aid
you in keeping me awake. You never objected to the
odor of tovacco—your powerful nerves. If there ts one
imperfection in your really magnificent character, Mrs. J.
Sanders, it is that you are too masculine—-masculine as
a coal-heaver, or a hod-carrier—fault of your ancestors,
of course. Oh, do not sit quite so near. You really might
forget yeurself and cult me, as they say you used to cuff
that unfortunate old devil, David Sanders. ‘There, that
will do Now, let us hear the piay.”

“Tris trifling will not avail you, Sir Jules. Smoke
calmly while you may, for as surely as I sit here, that ci-
gar will Change its flavor before I conclude.” s

“Ah, really |? said he, closing his eyes, and smoking.

“Tt is mow very nearly twenty-three years, Sir Jules,
since you, under the name of Clareuce Vereton, married
me. TI was-Julia Sterlington, not quite sixteen, joyous,
buoyant, ‘beloved, and termed very beautiful.”

“Heautiful and virtuous you were. You are beautiful
yet, madam; but the other—oh, do not question me!” he
said, with a sneer.

She could have struck him in the face, and fhe deserved.
it, for whatever she was, or ‘had been since he first met
her, he ‘had made her.

She grew very pale under his taunt,. but in a clear,

from him, so that to make her hear his speeches, it would
be necessary for him to speak ‘quite loud, ‘

“Twas a daughter of a retired clergyman, whose prid
of me was equaled only'by his love for me. {Kew that
you are familiar with all this.”

THE NEW YORK WEEKLY

 

 

 

 

amber gs heat
“She is-dead:
The wordstrugeled out.at last:
; aney Voigt seared at him shrinking -shrinking in a sudden
uncontro 7

« horror.
“Por the first time since her departure from Eaglescliffe, her
able courage foRsook , ay

        
   
    
   

»

r
me! she cried hoarsely,;.as he ee

*Pon my word, the toes of these French shoes of mine are, mic nea , coee ¢ .
a trifle too wide—do you not think so?” he said, extena-/}" Bg An YOUE GARR a ion tee ae

ul, bold, wicked man, 11
Ww $ not looking at her.’ His eyes were fixe
Z
ire mistaken,” he said, in a low voice. “Iam not guilty
th me.’
1@ young countess made him no reply, but she never toox
her horrified eyes trom his face. 4
A: lat she smmumened
hev here. x
“Bartuly for revenge,” he answered, desperately, “tnd parily
to Marry you.” 7 kK
“Take your revenge as soothas you iike. Tortures could not
force me to marry you—you ought to knew that,” cried my
lady. “I know who saved ine that night from the bitterness of
wedding you. He is dead, and the husband of my soul is chosen
already—-is on your track now, wickedman. Oh! I feel in my
inmost being that he I love 1s already seeking me. He wil! find
me, too. You cannot hide me where Gilderoy Evelyn will not
discover and saye me.”
Conway looked up now, Ilis eyes burned with deadly menace.
“Tam glad you sald that. lawas a trifle faint-hearted before.
i shan’t be so any more.”
Ang with those siguificant words he went out of the room.

CHAPTER XLIIT. »
THE MASKED BRIDEGROOM.

When the false Sir Jasper pushed her, Miss Miggs fell at full
length upon the stones, avd one of then cut her temple and
stunned her. ' . .

A crowd soon gathered, and just as they were lifting her in-
sensible, form, a carriage drove past, und then turning, came
back. Its occupants were Lady Lowndes and Sir Jamieson, her
husband. © ~ r : :

Eleanor had recognized the governess.as they passed, and took
immediate possession of her, she and Sir Jamieson supporting
her tenderly between them as they drove to Lowndes House, to
which they were returning after a briefsojourn ata triend’s.

Sir Jamieson looked like a prince. Eleanor’s face wore an
expression of serenity beyond description.

Both were wearing mourning. .

Madam, inthe midst of the most bitter persecutions of the
gens. pair, had been thrown from her carriage and instantly

ied. They were wearing-black for her, but itmay be im-
azined that iheir grief could not be excessive.

Poor little Mousie. Of aslender and delicate organization, the
anxiety and excitement over night, followed by this last brutal
biow, had brought on an attack of fever upon the brain, which
though not pronounced especially datgerous, deprived her of
the use of her niviital taculties two wee
_ The instant she could ouees Sad think, she told her story. Be-
fore that time, Hubert, who had been tricked into a separation
from his mistress at the station, had done a very sensible thing.
He had gone tothe young countess’ Jawyers, and told all he

upon

 
 

=

 

 

“Of course, I am.”

“But when you——?

“Say Clarence Vereton.”

“You—l mean you—for yeu know you bore that name
then, though your true name was Jules De Cressy.” '

“Had youran audience, madam, you could scarcely
speak im a Ingher tone.’

“Very true; and I wish my audience, you—” Buthere
she shot a quick glance toward the siiken curtains of the
alcove, which was not many feet from Sir Jules, and in
his rear, as he reclined upon the sofa, with his face par-
tially toward her. ‘Lowish the audience to hear every
word I say.” f

The silken curtains stirred as if with a breath of air. .

(¥o be:continued.)

Two New Srories Next Werx.—In the Next Number of the
New York WEBKLY two New Stories will be commenoed—one
by ANNIz ASHMORE, entitled, “Tae Diamonp Cotta; or, THE
BisHop’s Dest;”’ and another charming Story of English Socie-
ty, which will be especially pleasing to our lady readers.

 

 

 

Marry

By HELEN CORWIN FISHER,
AUTHOR OF “THE UNLOVED WIFE,” THE CURSE OF Ev-
ERLEIGH,” **WOLF OF VIGNOBLE,’’ ETC.

{Lady Violet’? was commenced in No. 27. Back numbers
can be obtained trom.any News Agent in the United States.)

- OHAPTER XLII,

a _ POOR DAISY,

When the pn hiro arted so unexpectedly with Lady Violet,
leaving faithtul friend upon the street, the spirited girl
instantly thrust her hand, protected by her muff, through the
sea ag window, breaking the glass, and uttered one scream

or help. ee :
He who had _ called himself Sir Jasper Townley stopped a
second outcry by rudely dragging her fromthe window ana

  

     

  

.

' following as a clue, theug

; Therefore this man, who had claimed
: So With some sinister design upon Lady Violet.

 
         

knew. But it had not happened tobe much that was worth
i igh Suspicious and alarming; for Sir
Jasper Townley, it was thoroug! ascertained, was dead.
to be he, must have done
es ; Several com-
petent men from Scotland Yard were put upon the business,
and theirenergies stimulated with the promise of large re-
wards, in case of success. :

Nothing of importance had been ‘discovered, except the
whereabouts of the little governess, and her restoration to an
intelligible state of mind was eagerly waited for.

Captain Evelyn had come hurrying up to town on the first
alarm, and nor only waited to talk over matters with Miss
Miggs, before she sent for bim jor a full explanation.

“IT am sure my darling girlloved him, and I believe she
meant to telbhim the whele truttr,’’ Mousie said, feebly, from
the pillow she had tried to lift her head off and failed. ““If he
will come, we will tell him. He may find in it all some clue
to this drealfal mystery.”

“I think youare right,” said Eleanor. “It is only justice to

ér so, should sitin council upon
; kne s to find her, if that would
of the woe which has shadowed her
he through me.”
eyes as she spoke.
jad grown haggard with

  
    
  
   
 

 

   
      
  

    
   
 

  

  

  

e guardsman

Miggs being too feeble, Eleanor took upon herself the telling
him that strange mystery of Lady Violet’s young fife. She ap-
proached the subject carefully, and was agitated violently, in
spite of ail her eflorts to be cal a

er sr Evelyn. interry:
words, his cheekfevéred an
He put hera few rapid hal
denly he sn .

 
    

  

Vv or

the price of_

insman, as she called C yr

# man. who had eh ody :
ie

Conway, with his false

mpression concerning » a .

me thatit was all a ak: See Iw

anger than he, and half-craze by

udevant played Tf against ot! :

against me.__ g odd

Ww arry mM: way,

to the trap. H i the affair

ver discovered how Lh babeat:
ix the next day. I went from her to

Conway, 1

 

placing his hand over her mouth.. My lady’s great -black eyes
dilated at this outrage like some animal r the firs

 

  

 

   

   

  

tage? © Gor ae ee '
“Outrage? My lady, isn’t that rather a hard name to give a
man claiming his own'merely ?? , ‘
ady Violet measured him with a contemptuous giance.
“Ifit is money you want,’’she said “let me know how much,
and I will tell you whether I will give it, or wait Miss Mi

me, vour getting rid of :her.. She will set every

London after us, but she will rescte me.” oad
“There is more romance than reality about the detective |

business,” said the man, Coolly. “Wé shall get off easily

CRATE seat atl lady's reply, as she drew herself in a
‘Yow will s was my” s rel a .e drew herse
corner of the seat and Rae 1er aout :

_ Her hated companion, after_a time. produced a large ham-
per of carefilly, packed eatables, and, advising her to eat, as
they liad a long journey before’ them, set the example himself,
by adjusting a wicker-work tray upon the seat beside him,
covering it with a napkin, and transferring to itsome cold fowl,

sandwiches and jam. t ae
«He accompanied these ayy moderate draughts of wine of
which there were several bottles in the ‘bask ,and finished
with some grapes, whose hothouse bloom was still on'them.
The young countess watehed ‘him scornfully at first, then
reflecting that she needed sixenstlh, just now: more than ever,
she yielded to her hunger, which was greatin spite of the ex-
citement ané anxiety, which. filled, her, and selected from the
hamper such viands as she was inclined to partake of.

“You will find'this wine very refreshing this cold morning,”
the man suggested respectfully,

She permitted him to pour her a glass.

Afterward he selected something from the basket, and passed
it up to the driver.

The carriage did not stop allday except to feed and water
the horses, and that not near any habitation.

“It would not be-Safe,” my lady’s niysterions cOmpanion ex-

 

are afraid it may Jeak out that Mrs. Julia Sanders, who
was Julia Sterlington, and whoisinsome way your
housekeeper, once liad every reason to believe she was
your wile?”

“Come—we havehad all too much of this,’* he said, and
standing before a full-length mirror. ‘!! must change my
valet-de-chambre—he ties my cravat execrably. Ali! are
you still in the room? Really, Mrs. Sanders !”

'. “Of eourse lam. It was your whim I should come into
this room to sing and play for you—as you have insisted
upon my Going for weeks past—” of

“Very true—but I shall not trouble you—bah ! -I mean!
i shall not favor you again with the alia! command. You
may go, Mrs. Sanders.”

“Thank you. 1 desire
Sir Jules.”

“So—you mean to lave a quarrel, madam! I> remem-
ber that scowl of yours—you used ‘te give me too much
ofit, years ago, go!” : ; f

As lie commanded he pointed toward the @oor.

“Tt say——” ‘

“Go! Ihave heard enough !’ he repeated angrily, for
hé was rapidly losing self-control. It pained him to grow
angry, for he had acquired a kind of iciness of demeanor
and face of which he was very vain. But at heart he
was flerce and bitter. Fierce as flame; bitter as gall.
Gov. x

“No, sir.’? : } ’

He stared st herinamazement for an instant; then
turning toward the door near him, said coldly and.con-
temptuously: é :

“I was not born a swineherd, and therefore'shali not
attempt to drive you.” rn ty

“The ent is, locked,’’ he added, after a vain’ attempt,
to open it. ive

"Yes, and so is the other one, andthe one thatleads in-
tothe room through the alcove which those’ curtains
hide. You may try thea, if you like.” if

He did try them, and found them locked. He g#lanced

“around for the bell-cord. Tne bell-cord had been removed;

He grew pale and scowled at her. She drew herself to
her full hight, a tall, majestic woman, with her splendid
face blazing, vith scorn. ;

“Are you gone mad, Mrs. Sanders???

“Not at all, SirJules—at least there is methed in my
madness. I locked the doors before I began tossing; ly
have the keys. Weare to have a final ‘understanding. |I)
pledge you my sacred word, Sir Jules, that after this
hour you and I shall never meet’ in private again, with
my consent. You have avoided the conversation E desire
to have, and now I demandit.’ » «>

“Ghkl she demands it!” he said, throwing himself in a:
reclining position upon a sofa, and laughing mockingly.
“Well, we May as well fight any battle we age to have
now as hereafter.” : {

He was yery cool and very sarcastic, but habit began to
yield to nature, as habit ever does before strong emotion
in nlost men, and the cruel eyes began to flame like those
of an angry tiger, and the thin nostrils began to arch and
swell. ; }

“You must listen to me, Sir-Jules.’?

‘Must |. The idea that a womai like this Julia S«n-
ders dares say ‘must’ to me !”” :

“Sir, you know that I married David Sanders when you
were absent on the Continent. Had 1 known or dreamed
that you, whose steward he was, was Clarence Vereton
epaaeeTt :

“Take care, madam !”

“T never would have married David Sanders. You
know titat Clarence Vereton, aS yon were known to me,

to have a:conversation with you,

eould never have triumphed over me, except throngh a }

false marriage, which I beli€ved to be valid and sacred.”

“An y Sil ‘ ; :

“Though I loved you then, Sir Jules, and though I was
an unsuspecting girl, you knew that 1 was too highmind-
ed, too upright by nature and rearing, everto hold any
relation near you, unsanctioned by the holy name of

plained Lo her.

It was a cold day, but not extremely so.

Lady Violet suffered some trom the cold, but more from
tigue, and fell asleep trequently. in spite ot her anxieties.

By nightfall they were leagues away from London. A little
past dark they paused at a small relay house, but tothe young
countess’ indignation they only changed horses here, and drove
on as before. CHIE OT EH] 1 +

lier companion never-left her fpr an instant, and though she
Saw*some people ont, she felt thatit would be in vain to at
tempt to xppeal ta them, it she had ee passed her word not to
do so. a sea e a4 qveeewia oe Lif >

In the middle of the night they stopped ‘Jong enough to par-
take of a comfortable m oa rmnat ppine 34 be waiting for
them. ‘There was noone to be seen but the single attendant
wvbo waited upen them.in ultersilence,.and as’ suently after"
ward replenished their baske of provisions. * ea

The young countess was-permitted fo réfresh” herselfwitli a 4

fa-

bath here, and renew her toilette somewhat. >) 5.4“. aye
She turned an anxidus'glahce upon the surrounding darkness
as she came outof the hf ra ty . et So oye .4
“How-far could I run.I wonder: before he overtook me,” she’
thought, wistfally. . ee
The pretended Sir Jasper was ‘too near, however, to permit
even the attempt. . . v s &
As she re-entered the cafriage shé observed the single trunk:
she had brought ‘from thé)Olife- strapped. behind it. ft
“Where are you taking me too?” she demanded ‘of her com-
anion. r {WAgenIE. tatad 2 ; , €
. “You will know soon enough,” was all his answer...‘ | |
“Who wrote the letter you brought Mme? Mr. Herdle* aia
not, 1 $6 iif } i 3
' “Phat, also, you will know ini gooditime, my lady,” he said

ain. “oie 3 -

At night of the second day the cafridge ‘stopped again, and
the young countess saw they were by the sea-shore.

She attached no importance’ fo/ this fact until she beheld a
small sailing vessel setung in toward the beach. Then her heart
sank painfully, and she appealed once more to her taciturn
captor, condescending to entreat- him, and: offering Jiima money
treely if he would.set herfree.. :

Butshe obtained no satisfaction. ’

The vessel preved to be a pleasnre'yacht, and, smilie at her
remonstrances, the-man conducted her to thé beat which was
to take her on-board, > fF 5 Ul 6 4 ‘

Her trunk followed. a

The yacht was manned by barely enough scamen te work
her, and they all spoke a gibberish which Slice familiar”
ete to the false baronet, byt was entirely ‘unimieliigile to

ady Violet. 3 oe : t : ¢
' She found a handsdthe, Toxuridusly-furnished cabin, and hay-
ing partaken once hore of a; Warm mMealysought the rest she
was by this time suffering for extremely.. Her eyes.closed the |
instanther head Ronee the pillow. : aa Pi 94
, How long she slept she knew hot; but it must have been a
long, long.time, and her sense: st have Geen numbed with’
something beside fatigue, Oy 02 $17)

ivi

sel G

Ol4 3 of
When she waked, the cabin in whieh she herd gone,te sleep
had vanished. >) as inva strange, foreign-looking room, with
a polished floor and amben silk hangings. “A bright fire Pores
ona hearth paveitin alternate tiles of black and White, and was
reflected in a costly mirror at either extremity of the saloon.
“Tt was night, anda couple of wax €andles burned omthe mar-
bje table near. ; ; .
My lddyday some moments taking in the seene, and thinking
she mustbe dreaming. ‘ 3
At the first movement she made, a young girl came forward
with cherry ribbons in her hair, and ajaunty little.apron about
her trim waist, a smile on her bright face. ;
“Where ami? Who—what?” stammered Lady Violet, lost
in perplexity and amazement. :
“T shall ca monsiéur,” said the girl; ‘or will the Se

have heusolaie first?”
Lady Viol nade no reply, and the girl, taking silence for)
sent, d shea hair, and helped her to don fresh attire. |.’
a

Then she qguitted the r , vetirned with a gentleman “mon-
sieur,” an mediately Tetined. ; :
ady Violet, thinking: she’ knew who monsieur was, did not |
look at him till he spoke.;, : pe fs
hen she turned with a wild cry to behold Conway, "9! ?
“You?” she cried, with dilating eyes. ‘sit you Whé havehad
me brought here?” f ae
Vane Conway smiléd; 'as'a demon might,-as he bent bis head,
He was dressed’ well, elegantiy, mdeed, and his, beard had
grown to something like its old Jemgth and luxuriance; but his
face was pale and attenuated, his eyes sunken.
My lady stood looking at him some-moments, indignation and
wonder struggling in her beautiful, eloquent eyes.
“Where is Daisy? Where is my sister?” she asked. ‘Here?’
Conway caught his breath almost imperceptibly.

 
   
  
  
  

 

é pegs. }
action. {twas the best.thing that couid have paper , ag 1
le ein |}

went to see
and I forced the truth—all that knew-of it—out of
him, at the ot thesword. He said I had married Grace
Elreyyand I wasso shocked pA jearned that she had been
ve the marriage,that I entirely
me -afreé man once more.”
» said Eleanor, in extreme
at time, as you ‘and he sup-

  
  
 

iat “successful
eyshad-cheated & nway.
atone of his objects was to en-
ae met ‘He eee more
. ow sin that the

er, shoal tee have Penal
a moment, his. handsome
said, solemn
il help me.’ i
Eleanor. “You must leaveus
ing. He is so bad and black:
we'can imagine no motive for
and noother. Only he knew
miporarily in my. possession—
arriage finger of my masked >

reprewat iimselt to Lady

ve now? » gasket Eleanor; with:
emembrance of her list'meet- |

 

 

ly; “and as surely

ee ‘ object could
an irivoluntary shudder.at
ing with Conway. ies bait 4
“Heaven knows. Revenge, perhaps, on her :and meat the:

same time.” g : . ad
“Surely he would notdare'to harm ‘her,’ uttered Eleanor,
is. an utterly unscrupulous man, you,

 
   
  
  

with another shiver. ‘*
know as well as I do.”
“Do you want to drive me mad ?” ‘cried Captain Evelyn, sud-
denly, in tones of agony. “Pardon, my lady, but I must keep
my sefses now.” i et
Lleanor said no more,

CHAPTER XLIV.
THE CRAZY ENGLISHMAM.

The Rue }° epinasd in Fans has still a few aristocratic looking
mansions. Tiere is one with a fountain in front, a broad mar-
ble collonade on two sidts;.a quadrangle paved in squares of

courage te ask him why he had Prought

J : A the cank-4
ering care of the last two weeks. He looked-as though he had! Hi
t not slept for a month

 
 
  
   
  
    
   
  
   
   
        
   
  
  
  
   
 

   
  
  
  
  
 
  

  
 
   
   

| ready to tumble, so shaky and uncertain, that. Evelyn’s heart

“though it was broad

a

“There is NO © ze here but myself and my wife,” said Conway,
| hall peain 2eneried Evelyn, and-sprang into the wide dim
| Hoor. all: att eau into one room after another on the ground
} Bis stale 4ith a musty, disused atmosphere. Then he mounted
ia be «S of some tight polished , and went along another
| tig, ae the lower one, Sever
io the rooms to which they conducted being Nandsome-
| >) MW nished, but bearing no appearance of oceupancy, only in
i Av quite at the end of the passage, where there was on a table,
na of cone aie about the floor some ends of those which
ad been smoked.

He hearc a voice behind him, and turning, sew Conway. Tis
face had a singular corpse-like hue, and he was. smiling horri-

‘

vs

“f told yon there was no one here but Daisy and me,” he said.
“Ask her. Uhaven’t the igast objection m the world to your
| asking her’? and he smiledagain ina way that made thé sol-

dier’s blood rn cold. ex

*“Whatoo you mean?” h¢ demanded, in agony; then he add-
ed, with terrible soleinnity, “If one hair ot my darling’s head
has come to harm, youshall €xpiate itas man never expiated
a wrong before.” MOE c5--,

To his astonishment, Cottway turned his head partly over his
shoulder and spoke in a low, threatening voice, addressing some
one it seemed.

Evelyn caught but one word--Daisy--and changed his position
tosee her standing, as he supposed, in the gloom behind her
husband. But no one was there.

Conway met his bewildered Jook with another freezing smile.

“Dll lay you a thousand to one,” he said, “you can’t even
make her speak to you.”

“Her—wiio ?”

“My wife !?

“TI should like to try,” Evelyn said, defiantly. “If she knows
where her sister is she will tell me, if youdo not hinder her.”

“Go ahead. I’ve nothing to say.”*

Evelyn looked meredulous, buthe said:

“Will you tell me where I may find her then!”

Conway looked up with a ligltning-like gleam.

“Who do you call this?” with a toss of his head in the diree-
tion in which Evelyn had looked for Daisy, and then witha
sneer, “Mrs. Conway, I have the honor of presenting to your
acquaintance Captain Evelyn of her majesty’s guards.”

Evelyn stared with all his eyes, and Conway began to tremble.

“Well ?” he questioned, irritably. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” said the captain, in a subdued tone. “Nothing at
all. It’s a poor jest.”

“Do you mean tosay you don’t see her—that you don’t see
Daisy—my wite—standing here beside me ?” demanded Conway
in an unsteady voice.

“I see no one but you. There is no one here but ourselves.”

Conway caught at the balustrade behind him, swaying like a
drunken man, his eyes fairly starting from their sockets.

“Don't say that. Oh, my God! don’t say that,” he cried
“Thated her—she drove me wild hanging abcut my neck and

 

doors stood open on this land-f

 

   
 

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kissing me; but I never meantto kill her—I didn’t kill her.
What do you know about it?” he demanded suddenly, straight-
end himself, and looking at Captain Evelyn with dogged
aring.
The captain was very pale. He thought Conway had gone
mad, and he shuddered to think of hef he loved in his power.
His poring talk about killing turned him sick with tear and an-
guish.

“Conway, in Heaven's name tell me, where is Lady Violet?”
he burst forth in desperation.

“Do you suppose I would ?* Conway responded, with a dark
scowl. “You've had the winning hand of meal) or Inte. Yow ll
be Lord ot Evelyn, and you'll have the fortune I always meant
to have, and should have had, too, if the fates hadn’t cursed me
from my birth. But you can’t have her. Dead or alive, she’s
mine DoW. It’s my turn now, my man.”

‘She is alive, then!” ejaculated Evelyne That wassomething
after the terrors that had just overwhelmedhim, =~

&S I knew,” the wretch said,
ss only, and Tleave her
vith economy, a week. Pm
I mean to own her body and ssoul berore [m
hurts, does it?” asa groan foreed itself through
lips. “I’m glag itdoes. I know precisely ho
ie ve ped ene we es ae at th a :

ood was like red-hot lava. Lought 1ave | myou a dose
then, but 1 for Daisy. es child, aha 4 in a mad-

w that? And she loved me to the last
set fire to her brain. Ah, that

       
      
   

Bessa Weer
ish food each
arving her to it.

oO that
Velyn’s ashy
it teels. I've
Clifie ull my

     
      
 

       
    
   
  
   

       
    
  
         
    
    
   
 
       

 

 

 

    
 

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Wise Sayings of the Great and Good.

 

t
:

ont

 

   

The other will never love me so, if I rack
Pe of pa

  
    
 

ching the handle

ads of moisture, s‘ood. ,
“ane tlre only thought
now, was the

wn on her—his
in some inac-

 
    
 
  
      
 
   
  

  

un for a clue to her
ho ) truth out of him?
tuitively that it wou n. Conway’s natural
2 Was overcome now by that cunning and obstinacy
eatare of most madness. He would die perhaps with
her concealment behind his lips, and in after years
ould come upon a locked cell and find only the skel-
f her who had been Lady Violet.

cht was uumanning.

ed, and began pacing the hall to still his excitement.
stood with folded arms, and a sneering face regard-

  

Trance.
With a bound; he cleared them in
and temp mas he would have

ench bonne wasstanding at the gate of the next house
achild by each hatkitinnd watching him as he came

Ife stopped on a sudden impulse and extended his hand with
a ¥9 id sovereign on the palm.

‘I will give you this,” he said, in French, “‘and you shall tell
ie all rom a know about that house which I have just left. Isit
a bargain?

“Ah, but,” said she, smiling and paliug at the same moment,
“it is so little, I know, monsieur. They say, the poor English-
man ts haunted by the ghost of his dead wife—I don’t know.
Mother Fadette, perhaps——"

“Who is Mother Fadette ?”

“She serves Monsieur, the Englishman."

“Wherg can Ifind-her™. 2. -- ;

The good-natured bonne told him. It was not far; and toss-
er the sovereign, he walked briskly away.

i oper Fadette was found readily; but sne was old and deaf.

‘Her hearing having been quickened with a Cousie of gold

8,» her memory ted baapaee More. _she acknow-

ged tha Ps, employer had been in the habit of Seing abse

afew 3at atime, once in two or three weeks... =~.

Lady Violef was not at the house:in the Rue PEpinard then.
fivelyn thought, for once that villain had told the truth. .
Upon being questioned further’ the old woman remembered
have heard her employer mutter one word, in connection

ces, several times. The word was umencette,
era handful of sovereigns on the instant, for he
himutio aay darfied. he hat D: tte
shim.two stofind where and w rumence
was—two days with his heart sick, and his brain feve ,
fear for his darling. What might not haye ha p
days! But Taegan the | Pee of another day, he found him-|
self in the littie Belgian town of Which Drum encette was a sort
ot appendage--a castellated ruin, not on the guide-books, and.
therefore seldom visited by tourists. It was a rambling, crumb-
ling structure, with tour towers still standing, but lodking so

 

     

  

  

    
 
 
 
  

 
 

 

 

 

 
 

 
  
   

     
  
  
  

 
 
 

  
    
 
   
     
 

sank again. Barely, here was no place to look for his lost dar-
ting. He had brought a guide with him, a saacat J ion fellow, bat
he shrank back now on the verge of thec rum

   
 

ing Masenry, and
not be induced by money or
threats to go a step further.

He‘assured monsieur that the walls were in danger of falling
atany moment, and that the north tower was haunted.

Evelyn turned pale at that—pale with excitem ent.

The guide assured him-solemnly that he had himself been
near enough to hear the clanking of chains, and moans, as of a
lost spirit in torment.

The trenzied soldier waited for no more, but darted away.
The north tower was the tallest ofthe four, and the most dan-
gerous of approach: The winding stairway was so crumbled, in
places, that one seemed literally to hang between Heaven and
earth. But Evelyn saw pothing ‘save'the G@izzy summit; or, if
the shuddered inyoluntarily at ‘the perils of the way, it was be-

day, co

 

point out toyou yetas where the crazy Englishman lived.

Theverazy (Englishmal was Vane Conway;and thisis the
reason they called him cfazy: Whether he paced between the
tall white columns which’ guarded two sidesof ‘his residence,

red and white ices the ‘residents of that quarter will

cause he thought of. ver. a
Half way up, ashout from the guide reached him, and look-
ing back, he saw, through a broken place in the wail, Conway
mounting swiftly*behi him; and even at that di-tance he
could see that his face had. the same strange, corpse-like white-

 

 

or jeaned by the our or Sat in a window, he was always
talking—not exactly nself, for he chad the manner of a
man addressing ne‘one, Certainly to no visible companion.

It was impossible to come near enough to heat mach.of what |

 

“he said, for the instant any 0 approached, he would eiiher
make a gesture of sil to his invisiblé companion, or he
would say, sharply, ‘ 2, Daisy.” ; :

‘He lived allalotie inthe great ‘still house, paying his :rent
romptly, an@ having his meals sentin from a neighboring
restaurant; An old eo nre came twice a week, and did any-
thing that was needed it Che nie Soran eae
satistaction concerning him rom her. Knowing nothin: e
¢ uid i nothing.’ . : R
Ve phante A privileged may enter the mysterious precincts
of the house in the Rue Bpmard.

Tt Was an atternoon simwecks after the discovery by Captain
tain Eyelyn that the woman he had adored hopelessly near

seven years how was his Wife. _ 1

In all that six weeks h not found her, he kad not got
one ciue to her, though h a searched with the fierce crav-
ing of a long'starved Jov@of a maddening anxiety, though he
pe bent ee energy of his strong, energetic, resolute nature
to the work. ;

He had help too... But . false Sir Jasper had so noncha-
lantly asstred Lz Jincat, there is a great deal more romance.
apa reat ; aboud e detket ae S. Boag
“Upon this aiternoon, then, Cohway was pacing his Jone
quadrangle. {4 y

i OOM °: ag “i
He had just come in. | e was, dressed with elegance and
sserupulous care, A-tittix es. upon his hands, a hat of the”
latest style upon ‘his head.” air shone silky in the sun, a
his.beard rippled too in the golden light. - 4
‘He looked mere like the Conway first introduced ‘to the reader
than he had since his returp from Australia. Te a2 ;
of the nature of a eply, de-

. He spoke, and what?
uliar to him when he was out

livered in the halfsnik
of humor. i
sequently, I shall not go to Driim-
Evelyn Was ongmy track 1? ‘4
e

  
   
 
   
    

“Tam not an idddty
€Encette. Didn’t I tell
A pause, during which his eyesrested on the thinair |
him with @ re ee as though he listened to somethiag
not pigsennt Presently he turned on his heel, with ascowl and
alaugh ° ; r¢€

“Let. her starve then. She is. nejther wife nor sister of mine. I
gave her her choiée to Jive worshiped, or die hatec. Don’t kneel
td me, Woman,” pausibg and looking at thin aw again.“ You
et eas asoft heart. a if you had..the spirit of
ahything saboye erm, You. woeulc
love as 1 never did vou. wont am rship asT never did my
Maker, at whose feet would die in tortures for the sake of one
kiss frou Haim lips. When she looks at me even in her

néenly aes itis as though asweet fire consumed me. When
she speaks——’ ‘

-At this moment the great bell of the entrance way,'a ponder-

hate the woman whom I

j ous affair for a mere residence, clanged sharply.

Conway stopped, lifting his hand with a gesture for silence.
5 it is. he,” he whispered; ‘the has found me it last.’?

Then he went, after a long, thoughtful pause, during which
the bell continued to'sound, and opened the door.

It was indeed Captain Evelyn, pale as death, his. strong chest
heaving with agitation. ‘

“Oh! Is it possible? Have I found you?” he said ina terrible
voite, and advanced toward the other, with his sword drawn,
and gleaming in his hand.. :

Conway slowly retreated before him through the great dusky
hall, quite back into the masaie paved court... There he stopped,
and faced him, bracing himsélfby the wall, while Evelyn look-
ed athim with the pant of ashe Lear robbed of her cubs
“Where is she ?”’ he cried, hoarsely. ‘Speak, before I murder

A livid change
back defiance. ;
’ “Dai” he: said, with a horrible sneer, “and you will never
know, .

The soldier's features twitched convulsively. The feam of a
madden rage seemed to fleck his lips.

“She is where ?” pursued the wretch, whose throat his sword-
Ah by this time touched. “She is where my death will be her
doom.

“4
2

passed over Conway’s face, but his eyes blazed

Try it. I don’t think I care much about living anyway.”
Erelene Ar ord dropped ringing upon the pavement. The
thought of death for that glorious young creature had overpow-
ered him, Butin a moment he rallied again. He jwas calmer,
Coolers '* Vsceehss

“Tell me where my wife is; you see I know all at last,” he
said, his voice thrilling. “Where is she who never harmed
you? She whose demon of evil you have been solong. Give her
to me, and we will forgive ali.”

“Never!”

 

 

wife——?

-

“She is nop here——” he said, hesitating slightly in spite of him-

~ Rp eetemanaethor v

 

i “If she is here, I will find her,” glancing abont him with set
PS. :

mess he had seen-on it once before.

‘He redouvled his own efforts. -He reached the top, and found
himself,on a sert of landing, upon which a door, studded with
mails ot tarnished brass, opened :

Hetried it. It was locked. He shook it with both hands, and
called Lady Violet’s name Jondly.

- All was Silent at first; then he heard a single sound, that re-
called the guide’s words. He heard the fumt clanking of a
chain—nothing-else.. His hear t stood still. :

; _ Po be continued.)

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LigE AND WRITINGS OF CHARLES DiCKENs,” by Mrs. P. A. Hana-
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miese sale. Now is the your time to make money. RUS:
SELL, Boston, Mass. :

 

 

| OOK AGENTS WANTED LADIES OF THE. WHITE
} House,” no opposition. Steel engravings. Rapid _ Sales
For circulars address U.S. Publishing Co., New York, Cinc)n-
nati; Chicago and St Lonis, w40-4t.

 

Away with Cosmetics!

Abandon all washes, emulsions, aad lotions for the complex-
ion. They are always either useless or dangerous. Remove the
€ause of spots, pimples. morphew and other external disfigure-
ments of an eruptive type, by removing the inward cause with
a few doses of Stafford’s Jron and Sulphur Powders, which at once
tone stomach and disinfect the vital fluid. They are the finest
combination of an invigorantand an aatiseptic that the world
has ever known.

Sold by Druggists. 1. Package, 12 Powders, $1.
$2 50. Mailed Free. Money sentat our risk.

HALL & RUCKLE, 218 Greenwich Street, N. Y.

3 Packages,

$25 A DAY! 40 new articles for Agents. Samples sent
ait? fre. H. B. SHAW, Alfred, Me. wo6-8t

 

 

sacred Poems l ‘
Humor and Wit.
@-4 Shakspeare’s Gems.

Each_complete in one volume, 12mo., illustrated—Ruby or
Green Engl cloth, Gilt sides and edges.

ww
FOR ONE DOLLAR!

We will sell any of Mrs, MaryJ. Hotmes’ Popular Novels, sold
every where else ‘at $150 per yoluine. (20 Cents:additienal for
postage if sent by mail.) 4 ;

Lena Rivers. . 4
Tempestand Sunshine.
Meadow Brook,
English Orphans. “ee
=a Worthington.

Dora Deane. b
: tien Maude. f a.
Homestead omthe Hillside.
The Cameron Pride.
Rose Mather.
Ethelyn's Mistake.

FOR ONE DOLLAR!

We will sell the following works by Mrs. H. B, Stowe, sol
everywhere else at $2:per volmme, @? cents additional for’
postage if sent by mail.)

UNCLE TOM’S CABIN.

THE PEARL OF ORR’S ISLAND.

AGNES OF SORRENTO.

THE MINISTER'S WOOING.

THE MAY-FLOWER, AND OTHER STORIES,

WA, GOR DOS Goenetiz) blished as “Dred”), A Tale*of

Cr reat Dismal Swamp. 0 volumps ia one. Thickl2mo.
pp. eS a is

|FOR ONE DOLLAR

We will sell

THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD. Sold era ypere cise for
$2 50. (40 cents additional for postage if sent by mail.) Com-
prising Man, Pinarineds, Birds, Fishes, Trees, Piants, Mon:
tains, Caves, Velcanoes, Rivers, Cities, Remarkable Edifices,
Ruins, Antiquities, &c., &c.; with three hundred Illustrations.

FOR ONE DOLLAR! ©

.) We, will sell hundreds of articles, including: Albums;Chro-
mos, Parian Ware, Jet Medalion Sets, (very stylish), Geld Pens,
neils and Pens, Alaska Diamonds, Sandal-woed Fans; etc., at
ually low prices, and will give large commissions to those
who willact as our agents.

 

Send for our List of Premiums.
PROMPT, HONORABLE AND STRAIGHT-
FORWARD.

Endorsed by the American, Merchants’ Union, United States,
and Adams’ Express Cg’s of Chicago, to whom we refer, by
special permission. ie

Send usatrialorder. Send money by P. 0. Money Order, or

im Registered Letter, to
S.C. THOMPSON & CO,
158 State street, Chicago, Il.
136 Federal street, Boston, Mass.

IF WE WERE TO PURCHASE
A SEWING MACHINE,
WE SHOULD GET A

FLORENCE.

not solely because it took the highest prizes at the New England
Fair at Providence, at New York State Fair, Maryland State
Fair, or because the judges at the American Institute say, “This
is better than any of its class known to the judges’”—noi these,
not all together, but because we like it best, as a woman would
say. It workslike a charm; we can sew anything we please
with it; the children can’t getit out of order; ana it is putat
most reasonable terms.—Church Union. w34-6t lamo.

‘fMIME IS MONEY.’’—Watches superseded—The Dollar Time
Keeper—A_Prrrect Grem.—Elegantly cased in Oroide of
Gold, Superior Compass Attachment, Enameled Dia), 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 Hinsdale, N. HB.

ROYAL HAVANA LOTTERY,

$390,000 in Gold drawn every 17 days. Prizes cashed and infor-

37-3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mation furnished. Highest rates paid for doubloons-and all kinds
of gold and silver. TAYLOR & CO., Bankers, 16 Wali Stree
w7-tf.

 

7 ANSAS. —SEND TWENTY-FIVE CENTS TO)ADAMS & EL-

liott, Manhattan, Kansas, for which you will. receive (for

one year) the Manuatran HomesteEap, a 24 column: monthly.

ek yets filled with information about the State, It Trea ou
weil. w

 

i = TO $20.—IMIT ATION GOLD WATCHES.—JOHN FOGGAN,
. pa 79 Nassau street, N. Y. Send tor circular.
w24-13t

S20 A DAY toMALE & FEMALE

Agents to intreduce the BUCKEYE.$20 SHUTTLE SEWING
i MACHINES. Stiteh alike on both sides, and. is the only LI-
| CENSED SHUTTLE MACHINE sold in the United States for less
j than $40 to use the celebrated Wiison feed. All others are in-
' fringements, and the seller and the user are liable to prosecution
}and imprisonment. Ovrtrit FREE.

ws-lyr Address W. A. HENDERSON & CO, Cleveland, O.

 

 

 

 

where selling our Patent Silver Moultl White Wire Clothes Lines.
Business permanent,
Mr11s, Philadelphia,

1840, -s«
PAIN KILLER.

' This celebrated medicine has won &@eservedly hich reputa-
tion as an alleviator of pain and a preserver of health. It
has become 2 household remedy, from the fact thatitgives im-
mediate and permanent relief. Itis a purely vegetable prepa-
ration, made from the bestand purest materials, sate to keep
and to use 1n every family. Itis recommended by physicians
and persons of all Classes, and to-day, after a public trial of
thirty years—the average life of man—it stands unrivalled and
unexcelled, spreading its usefulness over the wide world. Its
large and increasing sale affords positive evidence of itsendcur-
ing fame.

Directions accompany each bottle.

Sold by all Drugzgists.

Perry Davis & Son, Providence, R. 1, Manufacturers and
Proprietors. wit-eew-2t:

Pa. w32-4t-eow

 

 

 

 

$100 to $2500 erat Garant, were

For full particulars, address Girarp Wize |

ex 1870, |

;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

t
a

 

$5.
i ee Le

 

 

a \

Ot

 

hee, ee

sane

 

 

weaggitan. 2

 

 

 

 

 

eerenentnetin mentapensnens rere

;

 

 

 

REMEDY ever known.

 

ed.
© MEDICAL DISCOVERY

 

 

 

 

THE NEW YORK WEEKLY.

 

 

Newspaper |
Advertising.

A Book of 125 pages, contains a list of the best American Ad
vertising Mediums, giving the names, circulations, and fuil par
ticulars concerning the leading Daily and Weekly Political and
Family Newspapers, together with all those having large circu-
lations, published in the interest of Religion, Agriculture, Litera-
Every advertiser, andgvery person who eontem-
reat value. Mailed

. P, ROW-

ture, &c., &c.
plates becoming such, will find this book of g
free to any address on receint of fifteen cents.
ELL & CO., Publishers, 40 Park Row, New York.

The Pittsburgh (Pa.) Leader, in its issue of May 29, 1870, says:
“The firm which issues this interesting and valuable book, is th
largest and best Advertising Agency in the Unred Sates, eae
we can cheerfully recommend it to the attention OF those who
desire to advertise their business scientifically and tystematically in
such a way, tnat is, so tosecure the larges, Mount of publicity
for the least expenditure of money.” w39-4t.

THE LADIES

z like the

HOME BURNER
Because it is EASILY KEPT CLEAN and gives

MORE LIGHT

Than any other Kerosene BURNER, and is ABSOLUTELY SAFE
FROM EXPLOSION. The Home Burner will fit any lamp, and is
for sale by all dealers, and by the

w40-13t HOME BURNER CO., 84 John St., New York.

DIFLES, SHOT GUNS, REVOLVERS, &c., at reduced prices
it warranted and sent by express, C.O.D., to be examined be-
fore paid for. Liberal terms to the Trade, Agents, or Clubs,
Write tor a price catalogue. Address GREAT WESTERN GUN
WORKS, 179 Smithfield street, Pirrsnuren, Pa, ‘

N.8,—Army Guns, Revolvers, &c., bought or traded 1 :

: w36-8

 

 

 

 

ALIFORNIA WINES AT REDUCED RATES.
Price list sent to applicants.]
W38-3t. GURNER & CO., 266 Broadway, N.Y.

YSCHOMANCY, FASCINATION, OR SOUL-
Charmimg. 400 pages; cloth. This wonderful book has
fullinstructions to enable the reader. to, fascinate either sex, or
any animal, at will. Mesinerism, Spiritualism, and hundreds
of other curious experiménts. 10 cents.
It cam be obtained by sending address. with postage, to T. W.
EVANS & CO.. 41'S. Eighth St, Philadelphia. wi6-.feow.

BOOK AGENTS WANTED.

We want active Agents in every township to sell our new and
pope book, “fTEN YEARS IN WALL STREET.” Just the

ook for the times—racy, spirited, amusing and instructive, fill-
ed with illustrations, including portraits of Vanderbilt, Drew,
Fisk, jr., and others, and endorsed by Chase, Beutwell, Lossing,
Saxe, Whittier, the Independent, and -a host of other distin:
guished men and‘infiuential papers, as one of the most useful
books extant. Agents ‘are selling from 10 co 40 a day. 15.000
sold'in $8 weeks. Extra profits given. Send for circulars to

ae WORTHINGTON, DUSTIN & CO.,

w39-4t. Hartford, Conn.
IVORCES LEGALLY OBTAINED IN DIFFERENT States.—

Desertions, etc., sufficient cause. No publicity. No charge
until obtained. Address M. HOUSE, 78 Nassau st. [w30-l3teow

 

 

 

 

.

   

Use none but
WSGE AHL

0x SHEEP

SOUPS AND BEEF TEA FOR THE MILLION.
Strengthening Nourishment! Economy in housekeeping!! LIE-
BIG@’S COMPANY’S EXTRACT OF MEAT, the same that re-

 

ceived the-+highest prizes at 2 aris, Havre and Amsterdam, and
that issupplied to the British, French, Russian, Prussian, and

A YOUNG LADY
{i

returning to her country home, after a sojourn of a few months
in the city, was hardly recognized by her friends. In place ofja
coarse, rustic, flushed face, she had a soft, clear, smooth, and
beautiful complexion, and instead of twenty-three, she really
-appeared but eighteen. Upon inquiry as to the cause of so
great achange, she plainly told them she had used Laird’s
Broom or Youru, and considered itan invaluable acquisition to
the toilet. Professor C. F. Chandler, Chemist to the Metropoli-
tan Board of Health, has recently chemically analyzed the
Boom oF Yours, and pronounced it harmless and free from
anything injurious to health,

Ask for GEORGE W. LAIRD’S BLOOM OF YOUTH. Beware
of worthless imitations.

Sold at all Druggists’ and Fancy-goods stores.

 

A GENTS WANTED.—LOCAL AND TRAVELING. ARTI-

_ eles bran new. Readv sales and large profits. Catalogues

} and samples free. Addres N. ¥, WF’G, CO., 21 Courtland St., N. Y.
; w40-4t. Cow,

So

IVORCES LEGALLY OBTAINED FROM THE
Courts of different States. No publicity. Advice free.
w30-13t FRED’K I. KING, Counselor-at-Law, 363 Broadway

pe A MONTH with Stencil and Key Check

‘ ; Dies. Don’t fail to secure Circular and Sam-
ples, ree. Address S. M. SPENCER, Brattleboro, Vt. [w3v-13
J Easily made with our Stencil and Key-
MONKEY Check Ourfit. sg Circulars Free. r

w28-26t. Stafford M’fg. Co., 66 Fulton St., New York.

Prompt. Honorable. Reliable.
A GENTS WANTED 1N. EVERY CITY, TOWN AND VIL-
lage for the largest and most successful DOLLAR HOUSE
im the country—ONLY ONE endorsed by the ieading Papers
and Express Co.’s of the United States. Our goods give univer-
sal satisfaction, our premiums to Agents CANNOT BE EXCELLED;
and our checks are free. Having two houses—Boston and Chic-
aco—our facilities are UNEQUALED, and our business exceeds in
mount all other concerns in this trade combined.
SEND FOR CIRCULARS and FREE CLUB to

S. C. THOMPSON & CO.,
136 Federal Street, Boston. or
158 State Street, Chicago.

 

 

 

w40-4r.

 

 

 

Metropolitan Pen Pictures.

THE HOTEL SWINDLERS.

BY NATHAN D, URNER.

 

 

I went one evening to Ineet a country co7sin atone of
the largest hotels in New York.
While we were chatting upon one of i:e sofas, my

‘| iriend asked me if i knew. the name of a large, portly,
cimposing. gentleman, who was promenading, with the

crowd, up and duwn the marble floor of the vestibule.
Lreplied in the negative.

“He must be some great capitalist,” remarked my
friend. ‘loverheard him conversing with a friend of
his this morning, and judge from his conversation that

 

he must have traveled extensively, and that he owns

vast prcperties.””
I had been studying the gentleman narrowly. He was
elegantly-dressed, handsomely-featured; and had the

general air of a cosmopolitan, but his eyes were weak
and yacant.

“If you overheard himinsuch conversation as you
mention,’ 1 said, “I would almost lay a wager that you
will overhear him again.”

“I do not expect to.”

MV aitand'see.?? { i iio a 4

I had no idea that it would occur as soon as it did, but
scarcely ten minutes had’ elapsed when the large and
portly gentleman, accompanied by a man, with whom he
appeared to be perfectly familiar, but whom 1 recognized.
to be an old*‘hotel-beat’? of the first water, approached

 

other Pron None genuine without the signatures of
Baron ig, the inventor, and.ot Dr. Max V. Pettenkofer, de-
legateon, every jar. oe +
_J. MILHAUS’ SONS, Company's Agents, 183 Broadway, New
York. For sale everywhere. + w30-13teow

JUST WHAT YOU NEED!

If you want to know 4ll about the Soil, Climate, Productions,
Health, Resources, and Frerything of. Interest pertaining to the
grand and glorious Central See es at ay

AS, ;

 

us, and appeal. without intent, occupied the nearest
seats to my frit nd they could obtain,» where the two
broke into an animated and verbose conversation ina
loud, pretentious voice. een

“But, general,’’ said the notorious man, very deferen-
tially, but as if. weakly arguing. mst some ground re-
eeents ken by the Other, ‘are you sure that your dis-.
tinguished friends in that quarter of the globe may not

 

Send your address and $1.00 to J. W. ROBERTS, Balto Sditor of THe
INDEPENDENT, Oskaloosa, Kansas. is Spee

   
  
 
 
 
 
   
  

au

and HEALTH Agent is |
markable results of modern
During the late civil war it was extens. y
used in the Hospitals, and was found to be
not only a thorough disinfectant, but also the
most wonderful and speedy HEALING

 

It is now vresented in a scientific combi-
nation with other soothing and healing agen-
cies. in the form of a SALVE; and, having

in its general outlay, but———”” “5 t
“Colonel 7 interrupted the “General,” severely,
and in a loud, domiveering voice, insingular harmony
vith his general sed) een as I respect you, I will
not have the sagacity of my distinguished friends called
inte question—uo, sir, | by gon, sir! Waen I sold
my twelve thousand acres of the Marip m
ajor-General Fremont for a mere song—fot stafcely

 

 

|} three, millions and a half—I did nor do so with puerije

thoughtlessness, buf with the far-seeing judgment which
my experience commanded, L had had the gold-veined,

| silver-teeming ‘tract of the: then unknown Grass Valley
yin my mind for years, sir; and when I boughtit, after

disposing of my ‘comparatively wortiiless Mariposa pos-
sessions, I struck when the iron was hot. The golden
fruit was dead ripe on the bough, sir, and I plucked it at
a bound.” 1 Staloy Ont.

“But I should have ee ht,’ said the other, “that
your losses in Australia, B , and among your diamond
mines of Brazil, would have counseled the most extraor-
dinary prudence in this undertaking.”

‘Confine’ yourself to the mention of Australia, if you
please,’ said the general, pettishly, and with the tone of
uu man nettled by haying suddenly recalled to him some
particularly sore experience of the past. “Tere, T grant
you, lsunk some millions, in the mere sport of fortune;

 

been already used in numberless cases with
most satisfactory and beneficial results, we
have no hesitation in offering it to the pub-
lic as the most certain, rapid, and effectual
remedy for all Sores and Ulcers, no matter
of how long standing, fer Burns, Cuts,
Wounds, and every ABRASION of SKIN or

FLESH, and for Skin Diseases generally.
Sold by all Druggists. Price 25 cents.

_ JOHN F. HENRY,

é

SOLE PROPRIETOR,

No. 8 College Place, New York.
w4)-13t.

 

 

This is the most thorough blood purifier yet discovered, and
cures all humors from the worst Scrofula to a common Lruption,
Pimples and Blotches on the face, and scaiy or rough shin, which are

such annoying blemishes to many young persons, yield to the
use of a few bottles of this wonderful medicine. From one to
eight bottles cure Salt Rheum, Erysipelas, Scald Head, Ring
Worms, Boils, Scaly Eruptions of the Skin, Scrofula Sores, Ulcers.and
“Canker” in the Mouth and Stomach, Itis a pure medicinal ex-
tract of native roots and plants, combining in harmony Nature’s
most sovereign curative properties, which God has instilled. in-
to the vegetable kingdom for healing the sick, Itis a great re-
storer for the strength and vigor of the system. Those who are
languid, sleepless, bave nervous apprehensions or fears, or any of
the affections symptomatic of weakness, will find convincing evi-
dence of its restorative power upon trial. If you feel dul/, drow-
sy, debilitated and despondent, have frequent Headache, mouth tastes
badly in the morning, irregular appetire and tongue coated, you are
suftering from Torpia Liver or ‘‘Biliousness.” In many cases of
“Liver Complaint” only a part of these symptoms are experienc-
As a remedy for all such cases, DR, PIKBRCE'S GOLDEN
" ‘has no euen) as it effects perfect cures,

leaving the'liver strengthened and healthy.

_ For the cure of Habitual Constipation of the Bowels it is a

‘ never failing remedy, and those who have used it for this pur-
pose are loud in its praise.

In Bronchial, Throat and Lung Diseases, it has
truly remarkabie cures, where other medicines

Sold by druggists at $1 00 per bottle.
. Prepared at the Chemical Laboratory of

R, V. PIERCE, M. D.,
. Buffalo, N. Y.

USK THE BENT.

LORILLARD’S
“CENTURY”
CHEWING.

roduced many
ad tailed.

w40-4t, eow :

 

LORILLARD’S
“YACHT CLUB”
SMOKING.

but my estates in Borneo are yet aire teh untried,
and, if my diamond-washings in Brazil yield me, as yet,
yield me only thirty-five per cent. upon my capital, I have
hopes that they may yet pay me handsomely. But they
are all as nothing, compared ae Grass Valley, That
is my darling scheme. The silver, it is true, yet remains
undisturbed in its rock-ribbed liome, but the seven quartz-
crushing mills are already turning out two hundred and
fifty dollars to the ton, and, as soon as I get my grand
stock company fairly under way, We shall have the yellow
metal in abundance, sir.’’ iy

The ‘Colonel’? appeared to be satisfied, and his bom-
pastic friend enlarged, in a similar strain, for a little
while longer, when they both arose to depart. As they
did so, the *‘General’”? cast upon my friend that glance of
friendly respect, which we so often exchange with those
whom we daily encounter, but do not know,

“A man of the world, and a great capitalist, I have no
doubt,”? commented my friend.

“] think him a Montagu Tigg, Esq., ona plethoric
scale,’? I said, laughing, “and advise you never to sub-
scribe for any of his ‘darling scheme,’ as he called his
Grass Valley Gold-Mining Stock, nor, for that matter, to
lend him a five dollar bill. Rely upon it, you will be sys-
tematically approached for one end or the other.”

He expressed surprise, and asked me what I meant,

I mentioned the notorious character of the man with
whom the “general’’ had been conversiug, together with
one or two timely hints, and we separated.

My words proved correct, but my friend neglected to
avail himself of their warning. When I met him, scarce-
ly a week afterward, the high-sounding eloquence of the
“general? had proved too much for him. He had pur-
chased golc-mining stock to the tune of two thousand
dollars, (of course, it was not worth the paper upon which
it was written,) and the pseudo yeneral—a worthless
scamp—had fled the city to escape arrest for numerous
rascalities preferred against him.

But hotel-swindlers of the stamp.[ haye described are
not very numerous. They are.the creany of their class,
and, like ail great men, are select and tews The majority
are content with lower game. ar

True, the halcyon days of the hotel-swindlers are, ina
measure, days ofthe past. There was atime when hotel
and boarding-house proprietors were woefully and daily
victimized. Good-looking ‘‘guests,’’ with stacks of lug-
gage, would live upon the fatof the land for weeks,
and even months, without paying a cent, and then sud-
denly abscond, leaving nothing behind but two or three
old pine trunks, crammed with old planks, bricks, and
other rubbish; and at that time there was no statute un-
der which they could be certainly prosecuted. About fif-
teeh years ago, a large up-town hotel was successfully

 

 

arrived with a wife, four children, and two negro serv-
ants, and who represented himself to be the accredited
minister to the United States from some Central Ameri-
can republic. :

He received scores of Spanish-speaking visitors, and a
short leave of absence at regular intervals served to
foster the impression that he was attending to his official
duties at the national capital. Incredible asit may seem,
he remained at the hotel nearly nine months before the
suspicions of the proprietor were thoroughly aroused.
The latter then wrote to Washington in reference to the
matter; but the Central American got wind of his pur-
pose, and decamped, with his ramily, before a reply could
be received, and leaving nothing as vouchers but four
trunks. Of course, the answer to the landlord’s letter
proved the fellow to be an aiventarer, with any number
of euphonious aliases, and an examination of the trunks
resulted in the discovery that they were mainly filled with
worn-out counterfeiters’ tools. b. shh

Indeed, be proved to have been the chief of a powerfal
and successful gang of counterfeiters, who had mainly
devoted themselves to the counterfeiting of Mexican
dollars, and other South American coins. But the po-
lice authorities made these discoveries too late. The
swarthy ‘guest’ proyed “a wild bird and a wanderer,”
and made good his pecapd'actoas the brine.

There is, at the present day, & personage who frequent-
ly promenades Broad ry and Whois almost universally
known as a ‘‘hotelheat’’—to use the prevailing slang ex-
pression, for lack of a better. ae

He is a tall, slender, elderly gentleman, of the clerical
cut, dressed in § , but decent, black, tall, shiny hat,
and stiff white choker.’ He has ‘‘done’’ nearly every ho-
tel inthe city, and still maintains a stiff upper lip and
nonchalant air, though how he subsists is a mystery,
since his ch r isso well known.

Such individuals are certainiy “guests,” in some sense
of the word, at, least; though why the hospitable sub-
stantive ‘‘guest’’ should be applied to harassed travelers
who pay tour dollars and a half per day for three meals

» efi «

 

i S198

Mhood and his courage.

be mistaken in their calculations? I know that your] -
present venture, like all your schemes, is colossal in its } ¢]
proportions, bold in its inception, and infinitely shrewd | ww} W.. ; 2 me

; ~~ Gastlé then raised his eyes. The personage in the cloak

~*

| was imprisoned, and he was at+liberty.
versed with you.

something I never could exactly understand.

Since the late war, many of the professional hotel
Swindlers have assumed military voles with considerable
success... One of the boldest and most impudent of these
recently put up at the St. Hotel. He boldly as-
sumed the name and character ofa celebrated Major-
General, to whom, indeed, he chanceu to bear a striking
resemblance. ,

This gentleman was by no means a vulgar scoundrel.
He was intimately acquainted—probubly through an ex-
tensive course of reading—with the events ana details of
the war, had discovered, in some way, many ¢haracteris-
tic traits of the gentleman he was_representing—or, ra-
ther, misrepresenting—and carried it with a high hand
for three months, without being detected. He made ac-
quaintances rapidly, and even paid two or three wine-
bills at the hotel-bar, from the large sums of money which
he managed to borrow.

He lived a gay and reckless life, running up wine,
tailor, and hat bills, to large amounts, and also succeeded
in ingratiating himself into the good graces of several
aristocratic families boarding at the hotel, and, through
them, into forming the acquaintance of their wealthy
friends, He was an expert gambler, visited the large
tlabs, and feeced the “iioode:? habitues to a great ex-
tent. Ile had, indeed, been accepted by a young lady of
wealth and position, and was upon the verge of marry-
ing her, when the breath of rumor began to whisper of
his true character; when he immediately quitted the city
for parts unknown, and has néver been heard of since.
He is said to have left unpaid bills to thé amount of ten
thousand dollars, beside having squandered thousands,
borrowed money. He was probably oneof tliose brilliant
scamps who believe that ‘the world owes tiem aliving,”’
ae who collect the suppositious debt after their own

ashion.

In the foregoing, I have confined myself chiefly to pic-
turing the higher order of this class of rogues,

The remainder, or lower ordérs, fall moze directly un-
der a purely criminal head. They embrate the agents
who thread the crowded hotel corridors ¢nd vestibuies,
as decoy-ducks for fashionable gambling-houses; wel!-
dressed sneak thieves, who, with a display of familiarity
as though they were regular boarders, move through the
upper passages, on the leok-out for ynlocked doors and
temporarily vacated apartments, and what they may lay
theix hands on; hackmen and porters in league with re-
gular thieves, and others; but a description of these will
come more properly uuder another head

a

-Scheming Madeion;

OR,

THE SECRET DOOR.

By the Author of ‘* Peerless Cathleen,’’? “Lady
of Grand Court,’? and ** Rose of Kendatle.’?

“Scheming Madelon™ was commenced in Me, 31. Back num-
bers cun be had irom News Agents titrotghout the country.]

CHAPTER XVIUL
And death and life he hated ¢qually,
And nothing saw for his despair,
But dreadful time, dreadful eternity,
No comfort any where.—Trnnyson.

While the guests at Castle Yanwath feasted, danced,
dressed. and amused themselves, Robert Castle lay in the
county jail, overwhelmed with disgrace; his soul torn by
fear and anxiety. He could not deny that there were
grounds apparently for making out a very strong case
against him. He felt guilty as regarded the will, and
when he thought of that he trembled for the safety of
Madelon—Madelon whom, in spite of her coldness, her
selfishness, he still loved with a desperate love. He
thought, too, of his parents, his brothers and sisters, up-
on bao this terrible charge had eutailed dishonor and
reproach.

me of his brothers came to visit him. To all of them,
as well as to the governor and chaplain of the prison, he
protested his innocence of the fearful crime laid to his
charge, and yet there was a reservé, a gloom, a.dread
about the unfortunate young man which was commented
on by the officials. The fact was thatthe unhappy Castle
felt guilty atleast on one point connected with the affair,
and this painful consciousness rebbed him of his man-

 

 

for he felt moody and irritable that night. "sy
‘apd, ee the jailor ushered in a tall personage mui ‘ina

_.The prison lamp burned very low—the jauor

  

wore a Military cap, and had something of a soldier-like
bearing. Suddenly he threw off his’ cloak, aud at once
Castle recognised Count Fritzbourg. —

Tue unhappy accused Started to his
ire shot out of his ue NEE ‘

“You have come hefe to mock and insulf me!’ he cried
passionatély. : ef bal rio
The count answered by one of his bitter laughs.
“Am I not like Mephistopheles?” heasked. ‘‘And you
are Faust. Faust—when the apples are turned to dust in
your mouth—the forbidden fruit for which you scaled the
high barriers of the law, and piaced your life in jeopardy;
yes, you.are like Faust, only thatin his case Murguerite
Tue cast is re-
You are imprisoned, while your Mar-
guerite leads a gay life, feasting and riding, dancing and
epjoying herself at Yanwath Castie. Still [think you are
a great fool to allow it. She expects to inherit all her
uncle’s wealth, jand I fatgy she wmiscalculates there !
Your old mastet,Grimm, aid his “cierk, Peter Ribston,.
are getting up evidence agagsnst ber strong enough to up-
set the castle-in Spain, whid she has built in the air, and
in which she dwells in fals ;
with me that since she was ¢
She should be a Sharer in your ment ?” }
A sickly dread came over oy te

rt

“Who are you?” he faltered org, ‘You are not hitman!
I tell you I have committed no crime:”’ eT oe

“You have a down-look, then,” replied the other} “and
youtremble very much foran innocent man. Let me tell
you that I have been all over the world, and I have had a
great deal of experience of prisoners. I never yet met an
innocent Man With such a down look in his eyes as I per-
ceive in yours. You quake and shake like 2 leafin a
storm. Let me tell you, Rovert Castle, that you are guil-
ty—and I know it!” . ’

“You area liar!’ shrieked Castle, and he stamped up-
on the floor in impotent fury.

The want of air and exercise—the terrible anxiety he

feet; an indignant

    
 

  

 

 

 

victimized in this manner, by a@ swarthy stranger, who:

had suffered—joined to his desperate and ever-yearning
passion for Madelon Gould, had all conspired to debilitate
the physical and mental powers of the unhappy Castle,
who raged and fumed like an angry child before the cold
and cruel count. , '

That extraorcinary being rested his chin in his hand,
apparently musing deeply. He xed his eyes upon the
prisoner, and then hesaid, slowly:

“T wonder if they'll hang you? Irather think they will,
but I’m not certain. They may give you penal servitude
for life. Lalmost think, of the two, I would choose the
hanging, were I im your place. Yousee, you'll have to
work in Chains, linked on to Some of the werst ruffians
that the world has ever knownor seen. You'll only have
bread and black broth to eat; and the overseer will always
stand over against you with a whip. Whenever he is in
arage with somebody else—with his wife, or his superior
officer, for instance—he will strike you, whether you de-
serve it or mot.. As for your chains, you know, they will
never be knocked off ye till you are dead, On the
whole, ifI were you, I would ratier be hung than go to
Portland or to Dartmoor for the rest of my days !””

Castle had become white as death while his cruel tor-
mentor,spoke thus. He tottered and caught at the rail
of his chair for support. t 3

“J can,see a way out of if all, though, for you,” con;
tinued‘the tempter. =.
down, Mr. Castle,” and herehis tone became suddenly
polite, I think I can show you how you may avoid all the
little unpleasantnesses I have just glanced at.”?

Castle had managed to seat himself in the chair. He
leaned his elbows forward on the table, his eyes were riv-
etted witha sort of fascinated horror upon tie face of the
count,

That mysterious personage drew from his breast pocket
a silver flask, —

“7 have good’ brandy here,’ he said; ‘*but my penetra-
tion shéews me that I dare not flatter myself you will re-
pose unlimited confidence inme. So to begin with?—
here be poured out some brandy in the top of the flask,

beverage before your eyes.”’

Here the count drank off the liquor.
out some more: a

“Now, will you accept some refreshment ?!”

“Yes,’’ cried Castle, eagerly stretching out his hand.
“Give it me—let me drink it, evenif it kills me, what
does it matter?” ,

While the unhappy prisoner was drinking his brandy,
the mysterious count put his chin into his hand again,
and laughed a low, chuckling laugh, His eyes mean-
while were rivited upon the face of Castle.

: “Did you like your brandy ?"? he asked, with a sardonic

eer.

“It is admirable !’’ replied Castle.

“It has put the courage of ten meninyou, eh?’ de-
manded the count. “That brandy was distilled in Spain.
Il could tell youa story connected with it which would
make your hair stand on end—ha! ha! ha!’

By this time the eyes of Castle blazed. with a strange
fire—his cheeks glowed hot; anew life, anew spirit
prams to have been instilled into him by the count’s
brandy.

“Now, will you give me your attention for five min-
utes |’? inquired the count, very politely.’ “Your undi-
vided attention, please.”’

“T am ready to listen to you,” cried Castle, roughly.

“Very good. Now, then, to begin with, you must for-
mally accuse Miss Gould of her uncle’s murder, if) you
wish to escape the ,hangman’s rope, or a galley-slave’s
chains. You know as well asI do that she induced you
to forge the will. Well, that night that you slept in the
house, she went into her uncle’s room, and cut his throat
with arazor. Only last night, this diabolical young wo-
man confessed this deed to me.’?

‘itis false,” roared Castle.

“She believes that I love her,’’ said the count—here he
threw up his hands, grimaced, and laughed in an un-

 

earthly fashion. “You see when oue loves one confesses

One evening he was told that a ‘gentleman wished to.
see him. He was seated before a table, writing er
to his mother at the time. He scarcely raised I 3 fae a,

~
ake

the count, spoke |

“If you wiil do me the favor to-sit,

which served as a cup—‘‘I will partake of this excellent

Then,. pouring

this crime, and 1 do not mind what deception { practiae

in attempting to arrive at the truth.’

“Can he be a detective officer—a terrible detective
officer—in disguise?’ thought Castle to himself. ‘But
even if so, Madelon never confessed a crime to him which
she has never committed,”

The count was still resting his chin in his hand, and
staring af the unhappy prisoner with his penetrating,
beautifal, cruel eyes.

“Have you well considered my proposition?’ he asked,
“It is the only way to save yourself; your only alterna-
tive between a halter or a galley-slave's Chains, as | told
you just now, and freedum, a handsome donation from
the Crown, and the re-establishment of your character.
Madelon Gould deserves the scaffold, and you should
bring her to it.”

Castle was silent for 2 moment.

“You hesitate,’ remarked the count.

Then Robert Castle rose to his feet, and approached to
Within a fewinches of the brilliant mocking tempter.
The young man trembled violently. It was a moment or
two before he could find voice; then he said, in hoarse,
deep tones, weak from excess of feeling:

“If I had seen her do the deed with her own hand; if I
had been chained down inthe yerg apartment, so that I
could not raise an arm to defend the poor old man; if she
had come to fhe afterward, stained with the blood of her
white-haired uncle; if she had falsely accnsed me of the
crime, and so caused me to be imprisoned, and my life
jeopardized; still, even under these circumstances—death
or Slavery on one hand; life, wealtii and freedom on the
other; and J, knowing her to be guilty—Ltell you even
then would I gladly die for her sake, or cheerfully don
those. galley-slaves’. chains Of which you speak. But
now, now, when I know and feel that she is innocent,
not all the cunning of hell, Count Fritzbourg, though the
infernal ruler of talse souls should send out one of his
cleverest emissaries, one of his keenest tacticians, to
tempt me, should render me otherwise than impervious
to his wiles,and deaf to his blandishments. Go out,
Satan’s emissary, asi know you to be. Goout, traf-
ficker in human misery, human weakness, and human
sin. Leave me. The law protects me from intrusion of
this sort. Welcome, prison, welcome, death, for in elther
case Iam innocent, and Heaven is with me,”

Then one of those unearthly laughs for whieh the count
was famous resounded through the cell. He drew his
long cloak around him; he did not speak: he opened the
door and passed out.

Then Castle saw a blue phosphorescent flame playing
for a moment. on the wall, and the whole place smelt of
sulphur, ;

The young prisoner was violently excited. For a few

moments he was willing to believe that Satan, or one of
his emissaries, had really visited him in his Cell; but af-
terward the calm, prosaic reasoning of this matter-of-fact
nineteenth century began to assert its influence over his
mind, and he perceived that a lucifer match might easily
have produced the phenomena. At the same time the
spirit of the visitor was intrmsically diabolicai.
’ There wag not much sleep for Castle that night. The
days wore slowly on. Robert Casitle’s case had excited
so much interest that the authorities resolved he
should not wait for the spring assizes, There was avery
general idea that there might be much prejudice either
for or against Castle—it was impossible to say which—in
a jury composed of the men of Marsden. Consequently it
was resolyed that the young. man shouid be tried at the
Central Criminal Courtin the metropolis. Winter set in
early that year. It wasa cold ‘and bitter day, and the
London streets were white with snow, for as yet the tra{f-
fic had not churned it up into mud, when Castle was led
into the densely crowded court, placed at the bar, and ac-
cused of the murder of the Reverend Matthew Gould,
Canon of Marsden.

The prisoner pleaded not guilty, in a voice which
weakness and nervous excitement rendered feeble and
trembling.

Gazing round upon the court, he perceived suddenly
Madelon. Her hand was thrust through the arm of the
cruel Count Fritzbourg. ;

A triumphant and mocking light danced in the eyes of
the latter.. But he read pity for himself in the beautiful
countenance of Madelon, who, dressed in rich black silk
and crape, and with a dainty bonnet upon her small, su-
perb head, excited the admiration of the whole court,

The trial lasted three days. During that time the se-
.¢ret of the will was drawn from Castle by the Sharp coun-
sel for the prosecution. ‘ '
|-He admitted that he had forged a will; he confessed to
this fact, but he blamed himsell, and enueavored entirely
to exonerate Madelon.

-Madelon, for her part, behaved nobly. In spite of loss,
and shame, and blame,:she confessed that she was the
guilty instigator of the forged will. Thus her uncle’s
“wealth, for which she had schemed, faded away trom her
aS an empty dream.

At the end of the second day’s trial Madelon Gould was
a penniless girl, for by her criminal act she had forfeited
all right to participation in her. uncle’s property. The
whole of the fortune was for the time sequestrated by
the Crown, since the uncle's 1eal will had been destroyed,
and it was resolved that the House,of Lords should ulti-
mately decide witat should become of the property, «-

Although Madelon did all she could to avoid incrimi-
nating Castle, she received a fall pardon from the court
mi consequence Of her services as a witness, her youth,
her beauty, and her fulland noble confession. But tne
case bore with a deadly certainty, so it seemed, against
tue unhappy Robert Castle. i

lt-was the endof the third day; the lamps were light-
edj the court was crowded to suilocation, the judge had
finished his summing up, the jury begged permission to
retire. Nearly alb the personages of our story were pres-
ent: Melrose, Madelon, the count, even Lady Stan-
ley, and Jervis Wilmot, gnawing his nails with a terribie
expression of anxiety on his haggard face. The head of
the ,prisoner was bowed into his hands, Presently the
steps of the jury were heard outside.. The whole court
held its breath, anxiously awaiting their verdict,

CHAPTER XIX.
Then from a rusted iron hook,
A ponderous buneh of keys he took,
Lighted a torch, and Allan led
‘Through grated arch, and passage dread;
Porials they pas-ed, where deep within,
Spoke prisoner's moan, and fetters’ din.—Scorr.

The jury entered their box and took their places, amid
an intense and ominous Silence.

The usual question was put with all due solemnity.

The foreman rose, and his answer rang through the
court almost like a Knell:

“We pronounce him Guilty! but with a strong recom-
mendation to mercy.’

“On what grounds??? demanded the judge...

“On the ground of grave doubts which four of the ju-
rymen entertain, there being no absolute proof, save the
circumstantial evidence |”?

After that the judge proceeded, and sentence of death
was pronounced upon Robert Castle, with the grim and
awful formality which the law prescribes.

Castle was white as death, save for two burning spots
on his cheek-bones; his eyes were hollow and sunk; he
turned them in the direction of Madelon Gould.

The hands of Madelen tightened on the arm of the
count; her white teeth were clenched; her bright eyes
blazed.

‘He must not die,” she called out, ‘‘for he is innocent!’

Tnen Madelon sank fainting on the ground.

When she recovered herself she was lying on the sofa
in the drawing-room of a large hotel, where she was
staying with ner friends, the Dashingtons, who had nev-
er once deserted her since the time of her leaving Mars-
den. The count stood by her side; he looked at her with
his bright and piercing eyes; a strange smile played
about the corner of his mouth.

“All these nervous fears,’’ he said, in a low, soft voice,
“should be set at rest, now, Sweet Madelon. The long
time of trial and uncertainty is over; the murderer will
soon be hanged well out of the way, and the happy day
of our wedding approaches.’

Lady Maud Staniey, who had driven in her own carriage
every day to attend the court since the commencement of
the trial, and who had now accompanied the Dashingtons
home to their hotel, turned an indignant look upoa the
count, toward whom her enmity had never slumbered.

“A merry preparation for a wedding, truly, count,’’ she
said,- ‘that Madelon should rejoice in the ignominious
death of one of her old friends and companions. I do
Miss Gould the justice to believe that she regards the ap-
preaching execution of that wretched young man with
an unfeigned horror.”’

Madelon answered by bursting into passionate weep-

ing.
“He is innocent, Lady Maud—he is innocent |’? she ex-
‘claimed.

The kindly Mrs. Gandy Dashington, who always sought
to cure every evil under the sun by a superabundance of
creature comforts, employed herself while weeping, be-
tween the pauses, in ringing the bells, ordering the serv-
ants to heap up the fire, and bring in the most expensive
wines and the most vecherché delicacies that the house
afforded. Then she prayed everybody to warm them-
selves, to be seated, and to eat and drink,

When the meal was about half over, Jervis Wilmot en-
tered the apartment. The young gentleman’s air was
singularly wild and distraught. He hardly seemed to
hear what was said to him; even Lady Maud Stanley,
whose attractions had lately enslaved the son of the bar-
onet, failed to excite his attention more than in the most
ordinary and common-place way. He gave irrelevant
answers to her questions; he said ‘tno’? when he should
have said “yes,’? and “yes”? when he should have said
**n0,77

Madelon, watching him fearfully from her place on the
couch, feit all her old fears and doubts revive; and Jer-
vis, on his part, watching Madelon, bethought him of the
strange incident on the downs, where the old woman,
who claimed for herself the character of a witch, had told
him that Madelon Gould and Castle were guilty of the
murder of the canon,

It was a miserable time; suspicion and mystery were
everywhere. Even public opinion was divided as to the
guilt or innocence of the condemned. It had been chiefly
upon the evidence of Peter Ribston, the envenomed clerk
of Grimm, that Robert Castle had been found guilty; and
yet an additional proof of his guilt Seemed to be discoy-
ered about a week after sentence had been passed upon
him.

It will be remembered that shortly after Madelon had
left the honse in the Cathedral Close, there had been a
sale of all the poor canon’s effects, saving the turquoise
blue china, the plate, and pictures.

Madelon had since received all the money for this sale,
and she was also allowed to retain possession of the un-
sold valuables. But when the new canon had succeeded

 

know what he was to do with those portraits in panels

ave ended, his,miseries in fve minutes!

 

to the house in the Cathedral Close, he had wished to-

 

and asmall bedroom up six or seven flights of stairs, is} all. Iam interested in discovering the perpetrator cf | which ornamented the drawing-room. One of these was

the likeness of that Miss Susannah Gould which hid the
entrance by the secret door.

Madelon, who feared the discovery of this entrance,
had written to say ske would leave the panels as they
were, and she demanded buta very moderate sum for the
paintipgs, :

Since then the new canon had_ chosen to repaper the
drawing-room. The panels had been removed, and the
secret door detected. 1t wasthen remembered that how,
on a certain night, the poor canon had believed himself
to be the victim of an hallucination, which he had feared
as the prelude to a dangerous Hlness. He had supposed
that he had seen a mere vision, or rather spectral deiu-
sion, which had assumed the color, shape and proportion
of Mr. Grimm’s clerk.

_ Butit was now seen that it must have been the clerk
in person, who had made his entrance threugh the se-
cret door, probably with the connivance and assistance
of the canon’s niece, who had confessed in open court to
a conspiracy concerning the will.

This all told against the prisoner, and whispers and
suspicions were raised again respecting the unhappy
Madelon. She, meanwhile, lived on at Castle’ Yanwath,
still receiving the Kindness and hospitality of the Gandy
Dashingtons, and the strange, fantastic attentions of the
eccentric Count Fritzbourg. Her anxiety regarding the
fate of Castle wasintepse. She knew that petitions were
being got up for him all over the kingdom, praying for a
commutation of his seutence to hard labor for life.

It was singular the malicious pleasure with which the
count repeated to her every circumstance which he con-
sidered would tell against Castle, and tried to cut off
her hopes that the unhappy young Man would obtain a
respite. :

Nearly all the visitors had now left Castle Yanwath.
It was a severe January morning, a white world lay about
the castle, but in the luxurious and splendid breakfast-
room there was a glorious fire and @ delicious breakfast,
and two elegantly-dressed people were seated before the
hospitable board. These two persons were Count Fritz-
bourg and Madelon Gould, for Mr. Dashington was sulf-
fering from a slight aitack of gout, and his, wife was
breakfasting wiih him in his own room.

“Allow me to give you this wing of the cold pheasant,”
said the count. “Ah, this time to-morrow morning your
friend, Mr. Castle, will have eaten his last breakfast, and
the large crowd about the front of Newgate will just be
dispersing.’? G

Madeion pushed away the plate which the count was
offering to her, and she burst into hysterical weeping,

‘You must make up your mind to it,"’ said the count,
with asmile; *‘and I must say that I think it 1s the best
thing that could happen for you to get rid of . this crea-
ture, with whom you have unfortunately been mixed up
for such a long time lately.”’

“Oh! cried Madeion, “they can never put him to
death; he is as innoeent as I am.”

“Very probably, my beautiful Madelon,” said the count,
with a sneer.

‘What do you mean ?” she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, and
sugar.

“I mean—anything you like,” he answered, with an-
other sneer.

It was most extraordinary that Ma@elon should have
continued to love this man, who never gave her any-
thing but scoffs, and whose very words of tondling and
affection were addressed as though to an idiot. Nor
would it be true to say that at this stage of her life Made-
lon did regard the count with the same single-hearted
affection which. she had hitherto experienced for him.
She was still fascinated, she was still his slave, but she
feared him.. Nay, was there not another feeling already
mingling in with that strange dread. How that day
passed away Madelon Gould could never remember.
That night, about ten o’clock, there came aloud knock-
ing at the hali-door.

Shortly afterward there entered the drawing-room where
Mrs. Dashington and her guests were seated, Arthur Mel-
rose and Jervis Wilmot. The two gentlemen were as pale
from excitement as if they had both just escaped death.

Melrose had a printed paper in. his hand.

helped himself to

5

tition to the Secretary of State, signed by many hundreds |

of people. ‘

“I have come to tell you, Madelon,”* he said——

“Pardon, pardon!” interrupted the count, with. fis de-
testable scofting laugh; “I cannot permit Miss Gould, the
future Countess of Fritzbourg, to be addressed as ‘Made-
lon’ by an office “erk.? 20 0 0% ea ar

Melrose flushed, but bowed-haughtily to the count.

“I accept your correction, sir,” he said. ‘The only ex-
cuse I can offer for my presumption is that I come charged —
with such news a8 has driven all minor considerations
and conventionalities out of my head. Robert Castie’s sen- |
tence is commuted. Miss Gould,’ added Melrose, turn- |
ing toward Madeljon, “his life is spared, but he is €on- j
demned to penal servitude forthe full term of his natural —
existence,’? L3t & sherry 4 ne :

“Thank Heaven that his life is spared}’’ cried Madelon.
“Now something may turn up that his innocelice can be
made apparent!” i
, And she wept tears of gratitude.

“We have done our best !” cried Jervis Wilmot.

 

“We

have worked night and day. I’ would not have had this

young man hanged—no! not for two thousand pounds!”?

“Lovas always, sure that he would never be hanged!’?
cried Mrs. Gandy. ‘How glad Iam! 'and now, I am sure
you must want aglass of wine.or two after your exposure
tothe cold and snow.”

‘ gut was the ,only person who did not appear to
participate inthe general satisfaction; he walked up and
down the rich carpet, his arms cressed, and an ugly scowl
upon his brow... ie i ;

“You may all be glad,”’ he said, stopping suddenly, “but
the poor wretch himself will not thank the law which has
given him a death, the tortures of which will last for
twenty years, rather than a merciful rope which would
end He will wear
chains as long as he lives; he will receive blows; he will
endure cold and cruely; and will lose for ever that which
every Englishman holds. dearer than his life—liberty!”

Here the count clenched his hand, and an expression
of demoniac fury conyuised his féatures,

Melrose watched him, and wondered.

“Who and what is this. man ?? he asked himself.

“His innocence may yet be established,” said Jerv. .

The count turned toward the son of the baronet as if
he would have felled him'to the earth. But immediately
restraining himself, he exclaimed, with a light iaugh:

“J think it would be better for all parties that the mat-
ter should rest where itis. If the true criminal,’ he ad-
ded, ‘‘were discovered, some of our friends. might look
very blue.’?

“Count Fritzbourg, if you are a gentieman
gan Meirose.

“He is not a gentleman—he is not a gentleman !” roar-
ed Jervis Wilmot, losing all command of himself, and for-
getting at the time that he was speaking in a lady’s wide
drawing-room; “he is not even a man—he is a fiend |”

The loud laughter of the count rang through the wide
drawing-room.

Mrs. Gandy clasped her hands, and cried ont:

“Oh, gentlemen, gentlemen! let me entreat you.’

‘A thousand apologies are due to-yeu, madam,” said
the count, bowing to her profoundly. . ‘Ll apologise on the
part of these gentlemen and for myseli. But we are all
naturally*very much excited on hearing of the escape of
our poor friend. While these gentiemien partake of their
mulled wine, | will relate to them an adventure which
befell me while in Italy.”’

Thereupon the count commenced a story whieh showed
him in a new light—that of a compiler of romance—vivid,
stirring, absorbing. With much grace of diction, he re-
latedg story which so rivetted the attention of his hear-
ers, that it positively had the effect of banishing the me-
mory of Castle for a time.

Melrose and Wilmot passed the night at Yanwath. The
next day they departed, and Madelon and the count were
the sole guests remaining with the Gandy Dashingtons,.

(To be continued.)

*he-

 

Two New Srorres Next WerK.—In the Next Number of the
New York WEEKLY two New Stories will be commenced—one
by ANNIE AsHMorE, entitled, ‘THe Di4monp CoLisr; or, Tas
BisHop’s Dest; and another charming Story of English Socie-
ty, which will be especially pleasing to our lady readers.

——_—_>-0+—_-_———

Jehial Slab’s Remarks.

Christians often think God grievously displeased
with them when they are only bilious:

The tongue of the gossip—The barbed poisoned
arrow of the savage.

Be like the birch—Though it has nothing but a
perpendicular precipice of rock to root in, it still
manages to grow upright.

Itis well to have aspirit of meekness under trial
and persecution. But I have-found thus far that
some things fight down much better than they live
down.

Do not put off being a Christian because you have
some overpowering infirmity. Nothing you can ap-
Ply to it will be So healing as the Grace of God.

f the conduct of others fails to suit us, there is
generally one unfailing consolation. I is seldom
any of our business.

Never compare conditions with those above you,
so loug as there are lower conditions that you can
be thankful at being kept out of.

Always believe a man sincere when he says be will

ut you in the way of making five thousand dollars;
f he has first found out that your traveling that way
will make ten thousand for him.

Parents may flatter themselves that harsh words,
unkind looks, and otber displays of temperin the
family, will pass for nothing on the minds of their
children. Will they? Place a soft stone under a
tiny but constant stream/of water. One day; one
week, or month makes. but little difference, The
stone, ike the child, stays there and says nothing.
But go back to it at the end of twenty years, and ten
chanees to One you will find a hole drilled clean
through it.

Men wear religion a great deal as they wear their
clothes. Here new-fashioned, there old-fashioned.
Here neat and glossy, there patched and. thread-
bare. Here black and somber, there with all the
tints of the rainbow in them. And I don’t know as
it matters much, so Jong as the fabric washes clean
and holds well together.

->@-4 ——-—-—.

aAG> It is figured out that a snuff-taker in forty years
devotes twenty-four months to blowing his nose, aS
>-2-+———
© Burnett's Cocoaine is theWest dvair-dressing.

 

 

 

 

 

It was ape- |

 

 

 

16

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SM. Cc

THE NEW YORK WEEKLY.

 

 

 

New York, August 18, 1870.

The Terms to Subscribers:

One Year—single copy .........--+-++ Ors vues oa Three Dollars.
ve “Four copies ($2 50 each).............. Ten Dollars.
- 6 Bight Copies oi... cic ce eds ece cess Twenty Dollars.

Those sending $20 for a clubof Eight, all sent at one time,
will be entitled to acopy Frerx. 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.

The New YORK WEEKLY is Printed at PRESTON’S
Great Press Room, 27 Rose street.

Office 55 Fulton Street.

 

 

Italy’s Progress.

 

Figures prove that Italy, in the last ten years, has
made real progress. Despite the disadvantages under
which she has labored, she has gone on steadily improy-
ing, until now she can fairly boast of what she has ac-
complished. To begin with education: In 1859, the King-
dom of Italy contained 30,640 schools and 950,000 pupils;
in 1869, there were 41,000 schools and 1,800,000 pupils.
In the City of Florence alone the schools, which in 1848,
under the Grand Duke, did not include a single one for
women, have increased in 10 years from 4 to 20, and give
instructions to 16,000 pupils.

Italian commerce amounted in 1862 to a little more
than 1,500,000 francs, about three-fifths of which consist-
ed of imports; in 1868 this total had increased nearly
3,000,000, more than two-thirds of which consisted of ex-
ports. This gain was made in spite of war, and the finan-
cial crisis consequent.

In 1860, the merchant marine numbered 16,000 ships—
666,000 tuns, and the shipyards prodaced about two hun-
dred ships, valued at 10,000,000 francs. In 1868, the num-
ber of merchantmen had increased to nearly 18,000—
882,800 tuns, and the yards turned out 700 ships, valued
at 32,000,000 francs. Consequently, Italy, ten years ago,
in her number of merchantmen the fourth maritime pow-
er, ranks to-day second only to England, while in tun-
nage she stands third, next to England and France.

Italy had in 1859 only 1,600 kilometers of railroad; last
year the amount had nearly quadrupled, without includ-
ing thelines not yet finished. Moreover she is tunneling
Mont Venis, opening tunnels through the mountains of
Liguria, and through the Appenines, digging harbors in
the southern provinces, and has built the arsenal at
Spezia.

Italy’s postal service, which, eight years ago, cost 21,-
700,000 francs, and yielded only 12,500,000, showed in 1868
a gain of 3,300,000 francs in receipts, and a decrease of
5,400,000 frahcs in expenses. This, notwithstanding the
increase of officers and officials, and the appointment
during that time of more than 2,000 new postmen for scr-
vice in the country districts. These figures are more sig-
nificant, too, than might at first appear, for they indicate
a growth in general intelligence, as well as in business.
The same may be said of the telegraph system, which in
1868 had more than quadrupled its receipts of 1860.

But a still stronger proof of the progress of the country
is found in the direct taxes, which may well be consider-
ed the meter of national activity. In 1861, the excise duty
on Salt yielded 174,000,000 francs, and cost 53,000,000 in
collection; in 1868, the receipts from the same source
were 304,000,000, and the expenses of collection 56,000,-
000. True,we must take into the account here the annex-
ation of Venetia, and the increase in 1865 of the salt duty;
but,.on the other hand, since the establishment of the
Forced Loan in 1866, custom-house and maritime duties
have suffered from the diminution in the amount of im-
portations.

Who, after noting these facts, can question the progress
of Italy? Naturally, the new Kingdom, finding itself pe-
cuniarly embarrassed at the start, as had recourse to
various loans, which one after another have weighed up-
on the Treasury, and increased its previous deficit. No
doubt the different administrations have made mistakes,
and here and there money has been squandered,but such
mistakes are only the inseparabie conditions of a new
nation’s growth to maturity—especially of one with the
peculiar precedents of Italy, and they may prove eventu-
ally the most serviceable experiences she could have had.

ABOUT THE SEA.

BY REY. T. DE WITT TALMAGE.

 

 

Every man ought to cross the ocean at least once to
find how many unwarranted things have been said about
it. Those who on the land have never imperiled their
veracity by mastodonic statements are so metamor-
phosed by the first stiff breeze off Newfoundland, that
they become capable of the biggest stories. They see
billows high as the Alps, and whales long enough to sup-
ply a.continent with spermaciti, and have perilous es-
cape from sudden annihilation, and see over the gun-
wales spectacles compared with which the “Flying Dutch-
man’? is a North river clam sloop.

We have not been able to find some things that we ex-
pected. We have very often heard that sea-sickness
makes one feel that he would like to be thrown over-
board. One day on our ship there were near a hundred pas-
sengers whose stomachs had turned sommersets, but not
one of these people, as far as we could detect, would like
to have been pitched overboard. Indeed, an effort to
depesit these nauseated Jonahs on the “Fishing Banks,”
would have ended fatally tothe perpetrator. We saw
not one of the sickest patients looking at the sea as
though he would like to get intoit. Those who were
most desperate and agonizing in looking over the taffraii
for the lines of latitude and longitude, held tight fast, lest
some sudden lurch of the ship should precipitate them
into the canaan of water for which the great army of the
sea-sick are said to be longing.

We have aiso been told in many well-rounded ad-
dresses that the sails of British and American commerce
‘whiten every sea.” But we have averaged during our
voyage only about two vessels a day. Thecry of ‘‘Sail—
ho!’ is so rare 2 sound thatit brings all the passengers
tod their feet. The mere ghost of a shroud along the line
of the sky calls up all the opera-glasses. The most en-
tertaining scollops are dropped from the spoon when,
during the dining hour, it is announced that a ship
passes. Let “Fourth of July’ orators steer clear of the
fallacy that the sails of our commerce whiten the sea.
They make about as much impression upon it asa fly
crossing the ceiling.

We have been told of the sense of loneliness, isolation,
‘and almost desolation felt when out of sight of land. But
we think thatin a popular steamer such a feeling is im-
possible. We leave a world behind, but we take a world
with us. A Hamburg steamer is a portable Germany.

Tne ship in which we sail is Berkley square and Fifth
avenue, London ends at the prow, Broadway begins at
the stern. We have on board Fulton Market, and Faneuil
Hall, and Drury Lane Theatre, and Apsiey House. We
do not any more think of how far we are from shore than
we do hew far the shore is from us. Though mid-ocean,
we are in the heart of a city, and hear feet shuffling, and
hammers pounding, and wheels turning, and voives
shouting.

We jhhave not found any of the monotony of the deep.
We have not.seen an iceberg, nor a whale, nor a porpoise,
nor a fiying-fish, nor a water-spout; but in simply watch-
ing and thinking we have found each day so pleasantly
occupied that we sorrowed at its speedy termination.

So many styles of character as come together on ship-
board are’a perpetual study. Men by the third day turn
inside out. (2 refer toe their characters and not to their
stomachs.) Their generosity or their selfishness, their
opulence of resource or their paucity, their courage or

 

their cowardice, are patent. What variety of mission !
This one goes to claim @ large estate; this one to cuiture
his taste in foreign picture galleries; that one to amass
a fortune; this one tosee what he can learn. On some
the time hangs heavily, and they betake themselves to
the “betting-room.’? Since coming on board, some of
them have lost all their money by unsuccessful wager.
Two or three have won everything, and the others have
lost. They have bet about the speed of the ship—bet that
it would be over 330 knots a day, bet that it would be
less, bet that the number of miles run would be an even
number, bet it would be odd, bet that the pilot coming
aboard would step on with his right foot, bet it would be
his left, bet that gold will be up when we get to Queens-
town, bet that it would be down, bet every week-day, bet
on Sunday.

The surgeon, who read ‘prayers’ for us in the Sabbath
service, was one of the heaviest losers. I am informed, by
a credible witness, that he took a bet while we were sing-
ing that psalm during the religious service which he had
been conducting. God save us from the morals and the
physic of such a doctor!

But take them all and all we never dwelt among men
and women of finer culture, and better heart, and nobler
life than our fellow passengers. We shall be glad forever
that on this crystal path of nations we met them,

The sailors have veen to us a perpetual entertainment.
They are always interesting, always cheerful, always help-
ful. Each one has a history. Sometimes his life has been
a tragedy, interspersed with comedy. Our heart goes
out toward him. In his laugh is the freedom of the sea
and the wildness of the wind. We can hardly keep from
laying hold with these sailor-boys as they bend to their
work singing a strange song of which we catch here and
there a stanza such as:

Away! Haul away! Haul away, Joe!

Away! Haul away! now we are sober.

Once I lived in Ireland, digging turf and tatoes,

But not I’m in a packet ship a-hauling tacks and braces.

Away! Haulaway! Haul away, Joe!

When I was a little boy my mother often told me

That if 1 did not kiss the girls my lips would get mouldy.

Away! Haulaway! Haul away, Joe!

Once I was a waterman and lived at home at ease,

But now I am a mariner to plow the angry seas.

I thought I would like a sea-taring lite, so { bid my love
adieu,

And shipped as cook and steward on board the Kangaroo.

Then I never thought she would prove false,

Or ever prove untrue,

When we sailed away from Milfred Bay

On board the Kangaroo.

Away! Haul away! Haul away, Joe!

Away! Haulaway! Haul away, Joe!

We cannot tell the metre of the songs they sing by day
and night, but we prefer to call it ‘‘peculiar metre.”” We
wish for these men a safe life-voyage, and a calm harbor
at the last. Heaven give them a steady foot while run-
ning up the slippery ratlines to reef the top-sail !

———__>-0<___—_

Impressions of European Travel,

 

THE HAGUE, HOLLAND, July 5, 1870.
MESSRS. STREET & SMITH:

“Thus far into the bowels of the land
Have I marched on without impediment.”

When Voltaire left Holland, soured by his quarrels
with the booksellers of Amsterdam, he exclaimed ‘‘Good-
by ditches, ducks, and rabble!’? When I crossed the
frontier of Belgium I exclaimed ‘‘Hail, dykes, ducks and
Dutchmen.”

From boyhood I have had the strongest desire to visit
this singular country, the most peculiar and completely
original of afl the countries of the civilized world—like
itself alone and like none other.

Think of a country, Holland (Hollowland) lying most-
ly below the level of the sea, and in old times frequently
submerged by it. Then think of the people of that coun-
try wrenching their territory from the ocean, making a
perfect garden of it, and becoming not only successful
tillers of the soil, but victorious in an eighty years’ war
for civil and religous liberty against the most powerful
empire of the world, think of their becoming the richest
people of Europe, with vast possession, in the East and
West Indies, masters of the ocean, victors in a thousand
sea fights, and with all these achievements producing
within a single century a school of painters unrivaled in
their line, incomparable in some of the great qualities of
art. Well may the Knickerbockers of our State and city
be proud of springing from such a noble race of men.

Yet how little was popularly known of them till the pub-
lication of our own Motley’s splendid histories, the ‘‘Rise
of the Dutch Republic,” and “History of the Netherlands,”’
which, by the way, may be said to have revealed the Dutch
to themselves, for he was the first to discover and pub-
lish certain important details of their story. He is held
in the highest estimation here.

It is astonishing how the tide of travel drifts away
from this interesting country, now that railroads enable
the tourists to go through the little kingdom with such
rapidity andcomfort. 1 can conceive of the reluctance to
travel by the old treckschwit (canal-boat) that used to
figure in our school geographies.

A short time after leaving Antwerp, I reached Moer-
dijk (pronounced Moordék) and then went on board nota
steamboat, but what amounts to precisely the same
the same thing in Dutch, a steomboot, a smart little craft
that soon began plowing the waters of the Hollandsehk
Diep, a broad branch of the river Meuse.

Far as the eye could reach, stretched level plains in
sected by rows of trees, and Dy canals, the grass and
age as green as emeralds. We passed the queerest, ch
siest kinds of water-craft with bluff bows and enor
radders, and great brownsails with curved yards,
well as tight built little iron steamers scudding, along
swallows. The monotony of the landscape was varied
by numberless busy windmills, with their sails whirring
and whirling, pumping water or grinding grain. The
body of these windmills, instead of being a smooth trun-
cated cone like ours, is shaped like an hourglass, the
lower end larger than the upper, with generally a gallery
atthe base and frequently a circular green hedge sur-
rounding them.

We soon came to Dordrecht, better known as Dort, a
fine picturesque old city, famous in ecclesiastical history
for the synod held nere in 1619, at which Armenianism was
condemned as heresy. Dordrecht was the birthplace of
John and Cornelius de Witt, and of the painters Cuyp,
Hoogshaten, Boland Ary Scheffer. The largest ships can
come up tothe city, and it holds communication with
Rotterdam on the north, with Moerdijk and Belgium on
the south, with the interior of the country on the east, and
with the sea on the west. Hither come the immense
rafts of wood from Switzerland and the Black Forest by
way of the Rhine. Some of these rafts are manned by
four or five hundred men. They are broken up, and the
logs sent to the sawmills. Steamboats with passengers,
tugboats, merchantmen, clumsy crafts loaded with hay,
fruit or vegetables, are constantly gliding by or casting
anchor before the old Datch city.

In Dort, as in all Dutch towns, most Belgian and many
Swiss, the women folks keep within doors, and seem
destitute of all curiosity. But they all have little mirrors
fixed outside their windows at an angle reflecting every-
thing that is passing in the streets; and you may be sure
ne these tell-tale looking-glasses are kept as bright as
Silver.

As you approach Rotterdam, you descry a long line of
quays planted with trees, and the profile of a great city
dominated by the towers of the South Church and the
Cathedral of St. Lawrence. Ships of the heaviest ton-
nage can discharge at the piers. AsIdrove along the
water side to my hotel, I was delighted to see the Stars
and Stripes floating over the bark Energy, of New York,
discharging a cargo of hides on the quay.

Rotterdam, so called from the Rotte. a stream which
discharges here, is built entirely on piles, and stands on
the rigbt bank of the river Meuse, in the form of a trian-
gle, with the base resting on the river. It has a popula-
tion of over 100,000. It has been compared to Venice, to
which it bears no resemblance, except that it 1s inter-
sected by canals, like the Queen City of the Adriatic.
Many of these canals broaden into wide basins, called
havens, accommodating a large number of vessels each.
The canals are crossed by so many bridges that the travel
is little interrupted by the passing of vessels. Many of
the houses are built directly onthe edge of the canals,
but generally there is space fora driveway, and often
for a line of shade trees. The streets are laid down with
Belgian pavement, and the sidewalks, on the same level,
with no curb-stones, of small bricks. Even here you do
not get rid of the wind-mills. Several of these giants ply
their arms in the very heart of the city.

Here you begin to notice the extreme neatness of the
Dutch. In spite of the great out-door business of this
thrifty commercial city, the streets are as clean asa
drawing-room. If you drop a white kid glove, it is un-
soiled when you lift it. As I don’t wear white kids I did
not try this experiment. Saturday is washing-day—not
for the washing of linen—but of the fronts of the houses,
the blinds, the sidewalks, the shutters, the outside doors,
the cellar-doors, and everything tangible to broom and
mop. Even the iron railings are thoroughly scrubbed.

The Groote Kerk (great church) is a vast edifice, dating
from 1472. The organ, completed in 1860, is said to be
superior in compass and power to that of Harlem.

On the Boompjes I met several fine specimens of the
merchant princes of the city, men whom wealth is reck-
oned by millions, bearing themselves with dignity, but
without ostentation. Yet I saw one or two whose pom-
posity reminded me that

“In Holland there lived Mynheer Von Clam,
Who every morning said q am
The richest merchant in Rotterdam.’ ”

In the little spot called the “Great Market’) there is a
fine bronze statue of Erasmus, author of the “Colloquies,”’
who was born here in 1465. The inscription says he was
the first man of his century—“among the first’? would
have been more modest and more truthful.

1 saw a few fine pictures, by the old Dutch masters, in
the museum. This collection was made by Counsellor
Franz Jacob Otto Boymans, who died in 1847, and who
devoted all his leisure and fortune to the formation of a
cabinet which he bequeathed to his native city.

 

1 believe 1 left Rotterdam to escape the persecutions of

 

 
   
  

moment of bailucipation. I soon fonnd I knew more
about tbe city than hedid, though he was a Rotterdam-
mer, abd that he was Oi no earthly use. Perhaps my lib-
erallly whetted rather than satisfied his appetite; but he
did hot give me a moment’s peace. He laid in wart for
me in tye hotel oflice—be walked the corridor before my
cuamber-door—he was perpetually coming round corners
in the streets and meeting me unexpectedly; always
ready to bow and smile and show me some wonderiul
curiosity, or take me on some delightful excursion. Like
the officious slave in Prior;

“Abra ee precen when I calied his name,

And when I called another Abra came.”’

I thanked Heaven | was rid of him when I found my-
self inside a vigilante (what youcall cab) driving to the
railway station. But when we stopped, who should jump
down from the box and open the door, hat in hand, but
my ‘‘guide, philosopher and friend,’”? who implored me
to take him to the Hague with me, not for his sake, but
for mine (?). I threw myself on the protection of the rail-
way guard in a pathetic mixture of English, French,
Dutch and German, was hurried into a reception-room
and saved, Thatguide was capable of buying a third-
rire ticket and coufronting me again at Delft—but he

not,

Delft, a few miles from Rotterdam, a sad, quiet old
town of about 20,000 inhabitants, almost totally consumed
by fire in 1536, again severely injured by the explosion of
a powder factory, which destroyed more than 200 houses
and killed more than 400 people, was chiefly interesting
in my eyes as the place where William the Silent, the first
stadtholder and founder of Netherland independence, the
first man to assert the principle of religious tolerance,
was assassinated on the 10th of July, 1584. The old brick
house where the deed was done is shown you, and the
traces of the three balls with which the assassin’s weapon
was charged. Philip the Second had promised a fortune
and nobility to the man who would foully rid him of a
foe he could not fairly vanquish. In 1582 the deed was
attempted and nearly executed. It fell to the lot of a
French fanatic, Balthazar Gerard, to execute the crime.
He introdaced himself as a poor Protestant to William,
and received alms from him, with which he bought pis-
tols of a soldier, who killed himself when he found for
what purpose they had heen employed. Gerard con-
cealed himself in an arcliway of William’s residence, and
fired on him as he was ascending the stairway. The
prince only Survived the fatal shot afew minutes, and,
with his dying breath, begged that the assassin should
not be cruelly treated. Gerard was, however, put to the
torture, and finally underwent an execrable sentence.
His right hand, with which he had committed the deed,
Was burned off with red-hot irons, his flesh was torn off
in six places with pincers, he was quartered and disem-
boweied alive, fis heart torn out and thrown in his face,
and lastly he was beheaded. The reward promised by
Philip II. to the assassin was paid to the heirs of Gerard,
who were ennobled.

There is a magnificent monument, in black and white
marble, erected by the States, to the memory of William,
in the new church on the great Market Place. At the
foot of the recumbent figure of the stadtholder lies the
figure of a little dog, an animal that saved his life by giv-
ing the alarm Curing a night attack upon his master at
Malines, by Spanish assassins. The faithful animal pined
to deatn after tne assassination of William.

In the Oude Kirk fold church) is the tomb of another
famous Dutch hero—Admiral Van Tromp (Marten Harpet-
zoon, who died in 1652). He fought 32 naval battles, beat
the English fleet, and afterward sailed through the chan-
nel with a broom at-his masthead, to signify that he had
swept the English from the ocean.

This church contains the tomb of another Dutch ad-
miral, Piet Hein, who, in 1628, captured the Spanish
galleons, forming what was called the treasure fleet, and
valued at 11,509,500 florins.

Have not the Dutch a history?

FRANCIS A. DURIVAGE.

Items of Interest.

aa A man and his wife, with four children, arrived at
a depot in Detroit the other day, and while waiting fora
train, got into a quarrel, which resulted in the wife tak-
ing three of the children, and an equitable share of the
baggage and money, and setting out for the westward on
the first train that came along, while the husband, Te-
signed to his fate, took a room at a first-class hotel.

’ ga> The last flag which floated over Northern Califor-
nia aS an emblem of Mexican authority, was presented
lately to the Pioneer Association of that State, by Rafael
Pinto, amative ofthat region. It 1s said to be the identi-
cal banner which was hauled down from the Custom
eager? in San Francisco when the place was surrendered,
in 1846,

kas- The fenvales employed in the departments at
Wasnington complain that the pressure for their places
on the part of women has become so great that they are
obliged to labor much harder than at the time the system
of female labor was first introduced, and those who can-
not work harder have to give place to those who can.

4a An eccentric man in Scotland lately died, and his
will was broken on the ground of insanity, the decisive
bit of evidence lying in the fact that he used to throw
open his window every Sunday morning and play the
fiddle while the people were passing to church.

4a The cannon jn the Palais Royal, at Paris, dis-
charged by means of & magnifying glass, now goes off at
noon daily, The garden is frequented just before that
hour by numbers of idlets and strangers, waiting to re-
gulate their watches by the detonation. :

&a> The wife of Ernegt Esche, proprietor of a woolen
mill in Milwauké¥, bechme suddenly,.insane lately and
rushed to the river to dxewn herself, Seok ran
to rescue her, but she ¢ ed him into the water, and

both were drown
aay A London | describing Minister Motley’s
says: “The singular beauty of

Foupth of Jaly p
ef the Ameri jadies was more talked about by

 

   
  
    
   
    
 
  

a

  
 

lish guests ti/in the Declaration of Indepenuence.”

| Ba The e my. ae an Germany
this year are, erally spe ersons in the posses-
sion of cap hearty dvesixthe Being in comfortable

circumstances and of fair education.

kas> The oldest member of the Pioneers’ Association of
Sacramento, Cal., a hale old man of eighty-four, tramped
for miles in procession a few days ago from choice. He
preferred the exercise to riding.

4G> From statistics recently published it appears that,
reducing currency to gold, the average rate of wages
paid in the United States in 1869 was 24.36 per cent great-
er than in Great Britan in 1867-8.

uas- A party of pleasure-seekers, in California, were re-
cently poisoned by eating a hearty meal of muscles. They
produced vomiting and cramps, which were only relieved
by careful medical treatment.

kas They have a musical prodigy at Albany, ina
boy ten years of age, who is said to perform the most
difficuit pieces on the violin in a style equal to that of the
best professors of the art.

8a Richmond, Indiana, has a curiosity in the shape of
a@ pig with one head, but two distinct bodies from the
shoulders back. The head has four ears, and each body
four legs. P

Ba Should the Prince of Wales become King of Great
Britain, according to precedent, his eldest son would be
created Prince of Wales by letters patent from the Crown.

4a Farmers, who are presumed to be posted, predict
that the immense quantity of wheat this year will bring
fiour down to theneighborhood of $4a barrel.

ka The champion family for moving, now resides in
Burton, Vermont. it has moved forty-one times in
seventeen years, or about once in five months.

kas A farmer of Oxford, Me., has a dog that produces
@ yearly fleece of six inches in length. The animal is
regularly sheared with the farmer’s sheep.

a> A man in Albany bought an acre of land three
years ago for $158, and during the present season has
netted $1,700 for strawberries raised on it,

kas A machine for paving has been invented in France,
Which wilt effect @ great saving of strength in what has
hitherto been a very laborious occupation.

aa A careful Virginia housewife, on shaking up her
bed the other day, found a large copperhead snake en-
sconsed among the straw of the tick.

kG> The people of Boston consume 20,948 gallons of
milk a day, ata cost of $7,122 32. They have 752 whole-
sale dealers in that commodity.

gas Cincinnati had 298 divorce suits pending during
the past year, of which 118 were decided. Wives were
the petitioners in 116 of them.

4a The Ohio Congregationalists have refused, by a
vote of 55 to 53, to allow women to sit as delegates in the
annual conventions.

a> A portion of the fleece of the rebel ram Merrimac
(about eight tons of iron) was recently brought to Boston
from Norfolk, Va.

aas~ Fifty-two person were killed by the explosion of
kerosene in 1869, and the total sufferers were one hun-
dred and eight.

aa- Ahen in Provincetown celebrated the Fourth of
July by picking at a torpedo until it exploded and blew
her head off.

4aa> A Chinaman brought into Downieville, Cal., the
other day, a nugget weighing twenty-five ounces, valued
at $441 10.

aas- The hairdressers’ shops of Madrid are crowded
with poverty-stricken Spanish girls, anxious to sell their
hair. ]

a> Nicholas Longworth once purchased the business
portion of the city of Cincinnati for the value of a horse.

—_—__ > e+.
THE PHUNNY PHELLOW.

In the current number of the PHUNNY PHELLOW, the
Chinamen are served up in most attractive style. In the
various designs the illustrious pig-tailed Asiatics are de-
picted in such ludicrous attitudes that it will be impossi-
ble for even a stolid Chinaman to contemplate them with-
out distending his mouth with a dismal grin. The read-
ing matter, as usual, is calculated to awaken the most
uproarious mirth. If you would laugh and be jolly, pro-
cure a copy of the PHUNNY PHELLOW.

 

a professional guide, whom I engaged for one cay in a

 

 

 

 

 

To Correspondents.

Gossip WITH READERS AND CONTRIBUTORS. —
Nancy Greanleay.—We know not of the existence of such ‘‘intelli-
gence offices.” Situations of the kind you seek are obtained
either through the recommendations of friends, or by advertis-
BOG. oan W. £. Clark.—Tiere are coastwise steamers between
this portand Philade!phia, but they carry few passengers, as
passengers generally preier going trom New York by rai road.
. B. B.—Avy or all of the Janguages named can be
learned from books without the assistance of oral instrucuon so
that you may be avle toread ané write them, but you must
have oru! instruction to succeed in speaking the languages so as
to te understood. The best books for acquiring the languages
without a master are the Ollendorf series...... Portfolio,—\st.
The story is an immatare effort. 2d. With practice you may
become a popular writer; but you will have to exhibit more
originality in the invention of plot and situation than you ex-
hibited in your first attempt at story writing, 3d. Your hanu-
writing is fair, but the ink which you -use is very bad......
Jason.—The affair is a quack concern...... de.—If you wish
to fit yourself for a bookkeeper you must practise writing,
thoroughly master the arithmetic, and then procure a work on
bookkeeping, wbich you can purchase at any book store where
works of an educational character are sold...... Only a Boy.—
In the ‘Knowledge Box,’’ No. 33, you will find a recipe for the
making of a pomade. The best dressing for the hair 1s cold
water. 2d. It isnot in any way injurious to the health to take
a cold bath daily, provided you do not stay in the water too long
atime. You should not remain in the water over fifteen
minutes at the longest. 3d. The gentleman should bow first on
meeting a Jady acquaintance in the street...... Mattie T. J.—\st.
Vassar College is situated within two miles of Poughkeepsie, N.
Y. By addressing a note to the authorities of the college you
will receive a circular giving terms of tuition, ete. 2d. Mathew
Vassar. was the founder of the college. He was born in England
in 1792, and his father removed to the United States in 1796. In
1861 Mathew Vassar delivered to trustees, incorporated for the
purpose by the Legislature, bonds, stocks, and other securities
to the amount of $408,000 for the foundation of the Vassar female
college. The college isnow avery flourishing educational in-
stitution. 3d. The spaniards were the first to make slaves of
the native Indians of America, and also the first to bring ne-

roes as slaves to this continent. The English, French, Dutch,
ortugese, Spaniards, and other European nations engaged in
the African slave traffic. The firstslaves brought to the original
thirteen States were sold from a Dutch vessel, which ianded 20
at Jamestown, Virginia, in 1620. Slavery soon thereafter came
into existence in nearly every part of North America, and In-
dians were enslaved as well as negroes. The son of Kin
Philip was sold asaslave. The English government regar
the slave-trade as a legitimate traffic, and Queen Elizabeth is
charged with sharing the profits made by Sir John Hawkins, the
first Englishman who commanded a regular slave-trader. In the
time of the Stuarts four English companies were chartered for
the purpose of carrying on the slave-trade, and Chales II. and
James II. were members of the fourth company. While Duke
of York, James II was at the head of the company. The United
States were in advance of other countries in tixing atime tor
the cessation of the siave trade. The State of Georgia prohibit-
ed it in 1798, and by the Constitution of the U.S. it was prohi-
bited after 1808...... Parke County.—lst. You have but one of two
courses to pursue: Either marry the lady according to your
agreement, or state to her plainly your position in life, and your
inability to “support a wife as you would like to.”’ 2d. It will
cost you about $100 to go from Cincinnatito Salt Lake City,
Utah..S. A. Williams.—The following are the differences between
the winds you name: The Cyclone isa rotatory storm or whirl-
wind of extended circuit; the Monsoon isa wind biowing half
the year in one direction, and the other half in an opposite—the
term *“‘Monsoon”’ is applied particularly to certain winds of the
Indian Ocean, which blow from the south-west from April to
October, and trom the north-east the rest of the year; a Torna-
doisa violent gust of wind, or a tempest distinguished by a
whirling, progressive motion, usually accompanied with severe
thunder, lightning and torrents of rain, and commonly of short
duration and small breadth; a Typhoon isa violent whirlwind
which rushes upward trom the earth, whirling clouds of dust;
and a Hurricane is a storm characterized by the exureme fury
of the wind and iis sudden changes...... Hope.—Physiologists
disagree as to the effect which the marriage of cousins has up-
on the offspring; but to our mind there is not the slightest proof
that the offspring are not as strong of body and as bright of in-
tellect as the offspring of otuer marriages. A few years ago a
great excitement was created by the statements of a few phy-
siologists that the mass of idiots were the offspring of the inter-
marriages of cousins; but when the most learned physiologists
of Germany, France, England and the United States searched
into the truth of the reports they decided that there was no
foundation tor the alarming statements......2 Mike.—You writ-
ing is pretty fair...... A. B. Davies.—ist. Should you meet any
members of the family of the proprietor on the grounds raise
your hat and bow, and if they accost you enter into conversa-
tion with them. 2d. There are several errors of grammar in
your note. Youcan acguire a better knowledge of the English
anguage by studying Goold Brown’s grammar...... L, J. H.—
The first newspaper in the United States was issued at Boston,
September 25, 1690. But one number of it was published, and it
is probable that it was prohibited by the colonial legislature.
The first paper which was regularly published was the “Boston
News Letter,” which was first issued on the 24th of april, 1704,
and was published weekly until 1776 W. M. V.—ist. The
army of France on a peace footing is 404,192 strong, on a war
footing, with the National Guard under arms, the entire force
is about 1,342,915 soldiers. The Prussian army on a peace foot-
ing is 319,358 strong, and on a war footing 977,262. This is exclu-
sive of the armies of Bavaria, Wurtemberg and Baden, which in
times of peace amount to about 60, men. in Prussia all men
from the age of 20 to36 are expected to be ready for offensive
warfare, and for defensive warfare ali under 50 years of age.
2d. For such situations there are generally more applicants
than can be supplied.....J. H. Weaver.—Consult a physician... .
Buffalo —ihe worst kind of quackery...... S. M.—Humbugs.....
Crow.—We believe the order is now extinct, and we can give
you no information concerning its leaders...... Martha and Anna.
—The gentleman should take the initiative in a correspondence
witb a lad Lover of Truth.—It makes no difference
what finger vou putthe ring on when you made the engage-
ment, so far as the solemnity of the contract went. You both
made a very solemn promise, calling on God to witness your
vows, and you must keep the engagement, or be perjured. Un-
der the law you could only be held for breach of promise, did
you break the engagement......... - Medical Student.—Ist. Nitrate
of silver and sugar (acetate) of lead are the bases of all the hair
dyes. As youare a medical student you shou'd know that
neither of these articles can be used to any extent without inju-
ry to the health. 2d. We must decline giving the information
you seek, for obvious reasons..........-... K. K. K.—We do not
now where you can procure a copy of the song........ xX. Z.—
ist. Go to the girl’s parents, state your case straightforwardly
to them, make an exhibit of your ability to support a wife, and
then ask them tor their daughter. If their objections to the
marriage are of a character to show that they are actuated
merely by thoughts of the welfare of their daughter, you should
give heed to them; but if they are actuated by mercenary mo-
tives, and want to sell the girl to the highest bidder, then you
should marry her without their permission. Parents have no
right to compel their daughters to marry men they do not like.
2d. You write a good hand............. A Mer .—You do not
want any medicine at all. What you want is to take out-door
exe: cise, eat nutritious food, use coffee at breakfast only, don’t
drink, chew, nor smoke, take a cold bath daily, go to bed when
you feel sleepy, and jump out of it the moment you first awake.
By following this way of living for four or five months you will
fine yourselt completely cured............ Hettie B. Le Mott.—1st.
Forward for examination. 2d. Your penmanship is scarcely
passable. You can improve it by careful practice after a better
model than that which you have copied from. 3d. You spell
correctly. 4th. “Sobriquet” is pronoanced as though it were
spelled ‘‘so-bre-kay.”’........ Hub.—It you do not break yourself
of the habit, the result will be your being placed in a lunatic as-
sylum or a coffin Three Years’ Reader.—Your penman-
ship is not quite up to the bookkeeper’s standard.......... Little
Buckshot.—The only way we know of in which youcan get on
the police force is by getting influential politicians to speak to
the commissioners in your behalf. Itis all stuff and nonsense,
the talk of men being appointed because they are deserving.
They are appointed through the efforts of influential friends....
L’Inconnu.—Iist. As you are dependent on your father, it
would be very great folly for you to marry against his wish.
You have no trade nor profession—how are you to make a liv-
ing for yourself and wife? When you become independent—
that is, when you can support yourself—it will be time enough
to think of marriage. 2d. Your penmanship is good. 3d. We

ee ee

have no wish at present to increase our list of contributors. ....

A Louisianian.—See answer to ‘A Merry Cuss.’’......A Lover of
the Weekly.—Any one who promises to remove superfiuons hair
permanently, promises that which he cannot perform without
Scarring the flesh. You canrely upon it that anything which
will destroy the roots of the hair will burn and scarify the
flesh...... Anzxious.—Ist. If the woman can prove to be true what
you state, she can get a divorce, mensa et thoro (bed and board),
from her husband, and the court will give her controi of the
children. 2d. Wash your hands daily in lemon juice, and when
going to bed rub a litle glycerin on tnem. 3d. The medicines
are nothing but trash...... A Reader of the Weekly —Keep on at
the treatment. You cannot expect to be cured inside of four or
five months..... Indiana.—ist. We suppose the school examiner
intended to say, ‘“‘Which is the largest grand division of the
globe?’ The “largest quarter of the globe” is nonsense, The
globe is divided into five grand divisions, as follows: Asia, 17,-
, square miles; America, 14,950,000; Africa, 8,500,000;
Oceanica, 4,326,000; and Europe, 3,770,000. 2d. A quack. 3d.
We decline pointing out particular places of business in this
column. 4th. The local action of tobacco is stimulating, which
accounts for the fact that it excites the function of the kidneys,
at the same time that it reduces the nervous and the arterial
power. Tobacco also affects the function of the heart, through
the nervous system. Sogreatis the effect of tobacco on some
organizations that instances of mental disorder resembling de-
lirium tremens have resalted from its abuse. Tobacco also con-
tains a powerful poison. The external application of the leaves
is dangerous, especially when the cuticle is removed. A case of
death is on record, occurring ina child eight years old, in con-
sequence of the application of the expressed juice of the leaves
to the head for the cure of a cutaneous disease. 5th. Your hand-
writing is poor. The remedy is plenty of careful practice in
writing. 6th. The States of Vermont and Ohio are the onl
States in which a female is legaily of age when 18 years old.
7th. The numbers containing the story are out of print. 8th.
The word “‘acme”’ is pronounced “‘ak-me.” 9th. By laws passed
at the last session of Congress the army ofthe United States was
ordered to be reducea to 30,000 men...... E. S. Campbell.—Coop-
erage, the mechanical art by which casks, tubs, barrels, and all
kinds of wooden vessels bound together with hoops are made,
isa very ancient art. Its invention is ascribed by Pliny to the
people who lived at the foot of the Alps....... James R, an—
An entirely different person...... R. J. E. D.—\st. You are right,
the word *“twho” is incorrectly used in the sentence quoted. The
word ‘“‘whom” is the proper word. 2d. Your penmanship is
very good .... Marcus F. Squier.—Ist. You can find excellent
farming lands in any State in the Union. The lands of western
Missouri and eastern Kansas are highly spoken of by writers.
2d. Under the homestead act you can get land for the mere
payment of the register’s fees, which are about $10. 3d. The
fare would be about $100. 4th. You could procure sufficient
implements to get along with for the money, but the sum would
go only a short way to properly stocking a farm. 5th. Itis
about 3,400 miles from New York to San Francisco by rail. 6th.
The extreme breadth of the Atlantic Ocean is about 5,000 miles,
and its area is computed at 25,000 of square miles. The Pa-
cific Ocean in its widest part, at the equator, is 10,000 miles
across, and its area is estimated at 70,000,000 of square miles.
7th. See answer to ‘‘Indiana.’’..... George.—Try again..........
Ed, Edwards,—ist. The stories will certainly not be republished
for several years. 24. The numbers containing the stories are
out of print. 3d. It would scarcely be worth while at present,
as we are croweded in ate department....... Henry Pleines.—
lst. All citizens can enter or 160 acres of land. It will cost
them but the Land Register’s fees, which are between $10 and
$12. 2d. Your father should have received the bounty long be-
fore this. He should write to the Fourth Auditor for information.
as) head ee Get Munson’s work on Phonography,
which costs $2, 2d. We do not care to point out the best teacher
of phonography...... Constant Subscriber.—ist. You must procure
a manutacturer’s license from the U. S. Revenue Assessor for the
district in which you reside. The license will cost you $10. 2d.
Inquire of any dealer in glass....... Nellie A. Denike.—We think
you had better try to get a situation as saleswoman in some
store, as your eyes will not permit of close application to sew-
ing. An active hfe will improve your health........ c. L. G.—in
the game of euchre only one player can go “alone.” When one
player says, “I go this alone,” 1itshuts out all others from play-
ing “alone” hands. Should the person oar Ays “alone” lose
ail the tricks he cannot be more than euchred....Charles King.—
Ist. Itis natural that the young of both sexes shovld seek
amusement, and if amusement-seeking be not overdone if no
duties are neglected, it would be wrong to deprive them of in-
nocent pleasure. Now, if your betrothed a: tends parties and
bails only in the company of your brother, s::e pays all the def-
erence toyour wishes in the matter that he most exacting
lover couid ask. If you cannot trust your bethrothed and your
brother—who is a married man—you had better not get mar
ried, as your extreme jealousy will cause you to lead a wretch-
ed life. 2d. Your handwriting is not up to the bookkeeper’s
standard........ A Half Pioneer, writing trom Omaha, says: “I
write you this thinking you would hke to heara good word from
the Far West—although since the completion of the Union
Pacific R. R,, I doubt whether there is such a place as the Far

po

 

 

 

 

 

 

LS tS a T

West. Your papercannot be too highly praised. I can assure
you it beats all papers I have ever seen or read in dialing vith
live men. Most of the characiers you introduce in your indian
and border stories are well known to me, [having been on the
plains forthe last five years. Your paper, which I yet every
Friday, I couid not get when Lattie Buckshot was commenced
till the following Wednesday, on account of the increased sale.
Most of the people in this vicinity are acquainted with a great
many of the charactersin Little Buckshot. I have seen the
New YorkK WEEKLY in ranches hundreds of miles away from
setulements. I have seen itin mining camps. I can assure you
these real western men care Very little for fiction; but when
you deal with seal characters it gives an interest to the story
which otherwise, I think, would not be the case—at least, it is
so here. I seldom write to ana let alone a paper; but I
have taken an interest in the WEEKLY, Go on with your stories
in which are introduced real, not imaginary, characters, and I
am sure your paper wiil increase 50 percent in these diggings
within six months.” Mac.—We cannot inform you........

Ed. Ward.—lst. The individual was a real character, not a
creation of fiction. 2d. We know nothing of the internal ar-

rangements of the club...... W. L. G.—\st. You are about the

right age to begin. You should at once enter the studio of some

artist of reputation, one who will be a guide in showing you the

true road to future fame inart. 2d. Your handwriting is excel-

lent......B. B. McArthur.—|st, There are several positions in the
game of base ball where the ball is technically termed “dead,”
and not in play, and when this is the case no player can be put
out by being touched when off the bases. For instance, the ball is
“dead” until it is settled in the hands sf the pitcher, when he is
within the lines of his position, after being stoppedin any way
by the crowd of spectators, or by any one not engaged in the
game. Again, itis‘‘dead” until settled in the hands of the
pitcher, alter it has been struck “foul” (except as far asa fly or
bound catch is concerned), no player running the bases on a
foul ball being liable to. be put out until after the ball has been
held by the pitcher, Itis also ‘dead’ in regard to the striker,

when a “balk”? or a “ball” is called and the ball is hit until it is
again in the hands of the pitcher. 2d. No player can be put
out on a hit ‘‘called” or “balked” ball, and no base can be run

on sucha hit ball; but bases can be taken on third ‘‘called” and

“balked” balls in this way: the striker shali take the first base,

but no base runner shall take a base on a “‘dead’’ ball unless he

is obliged to vacate the base he occupies. 8d. You will find ali

the rvles of the game of base ballin ‘*Haney’s Base Ball Book

of Reference.” It costs fifteen cents, and can be procured

through news agents...... Nellie White.—Ist. See **Knowledge

Box,’’ No. 32, for recipe for curing pimples, 2d. Ulcerated teeth
often result, where not properly attended to, in running sores.

You should see adentist at once. 3d. Your handwritiig is
pretty good...... Berks County Boy.—\st. For an appointment as
a West Point cadet you must apply to the Congressman for the
district in which you live. 2d. There isnoexpense attendant
on the appointment. 3d. If you receive the appointment a cir-
cular of instructions will accompany the notification of your
appointment. 4th. You can judge of the likelihood of your re-
ceiving the appointment when we inform you that each Con-
gressional District (composed of about 120,000 inhabitants) is en-
titled to one appointmentin four years...... Inez de Cordova.—
Ist. ‘Alice, the Swamp Waif,” was written by Augustus Com-
stock. 2d. We shall commence the publication of Mrs. M. V.
Victor’s story, ‘‘Who Owned the Jewels; or, The Heiress of the
Sandalwood Cbest,’’ early in the Fall. 3d. ‘When accepted. 4th.

A sketch should not cover over ten pages of foolseap......4 Anz
ious.—lst. Writers generally nse reer ee: 2d. Your penmanship
is commonplace...... Margaret Emma.—Writing exceilent....... °

ve siebiat Constant Reader.—I1t is utterly impossible for us to know
what points in the South would be the best for carpenters and
joiners to emigrate to.......... G. F. 8.—You are not too old to
go to school, nor to get a good education. You will find it diffi-
cult, however, to attain a collegiate education unless you have
considerable money........ Ben Freeman.—You can have your
portrait engraved on wood, copper, or steel. The engraving on
the first will cost you from $20 to $50, on the second and third
from to $100, according to the fineness of the work.........
Bostonian.—You should pay no particular attentions to any one
ladyyif you do not wish to be considered an admirer; nor should
our calls be frequent on the same lady......... Quandary.—l\st.
e do not think the medicine of much account. 2d. See answer
to “A Merry Cuss.”’ Engraver.—ist. From $15 to $40 a week,
according to their ability. 2d. You should eat roast and broiled
meats and fish, and vegetables in which stareh and sugar pre-
dominate. You should also take out-door exercise...........
Charles Fox.—A book of the kind has been published by Mr.
Brooks, a dancing-master of this city. You can probably get it
by applying to the American News Co........2.—lst. There are
upward of 150 colleges and universities in the United States. and
it would take too much of our space to give their names and
locations. By addressing a note to the authorities of any col-
lege you will receive a circular giving cost of tuition, ete. 2d.
We cannot advise you in the premises. You should seek advice
from persons of mature years who know you, and would be
able to judge which course would be the better for you to take.
Joseph.—You should consult a physician..--. ....The following
MSs. bave been accepted and will be published in the New
York Weekty: “True Courage,” “Boatman Wait,” ‘Love in
Sorrow,” “Mine Own Blue Fiower,” “Baby Eva,” “The Weary
Heart’s Lament,” “Withered Flowers,” “The Smith Babies,’
“My Wife and I,” ‘‘The Lost Ship,” “Homeward Song,” ‘Is It
Seven years,” ‘“‘A Reverie,” ‘The Poor Little Wait,” ‘‘Mine,’’
“Our Last Move,” “Maud Ulster,” “‘The Murderin North Wood,”’
and “Amy Lee’s Choice.’’........ The following are respectfull
declined: ‘‘Retrospection,” “The Parting,” “If Only Wit
Thee, My Guiding Star,” “‘Crime-Haunted,” ‘‘A Plea,” “Is My
Name There,” ‘‘Twilights’ Lone Musings,” “Reflections by the
Sea-shore,” “Maud Sterling and Her Beau,” “The Mistaken
Coach,” “Down by the Sea,” “Evenings Long Ago,” “Twenty-
four,” “What is a Kiss,’ “Out in the Rain,” “Kind Words,”
“Edith Elmore,” “Tbe Drunkard’s Daughter,” “The Ordeal,’’
‘‘Love’s Masquerade,” ‘*At Morning,” “A Trick of the Burglars,"”’
“Kate Carlton’s Experience of War,” “Spring,” “A May Morn-
ing,” ‘“‘Clare,’”’ ‘‘Country and City,’ ‘The Silent Dead,’ “A
Taste of Happiness,’ “Our Little One,” “My Grave,” “To
Marie,” ‘‘Stanzas,” “Be Kind,” ‘“fo ——,” “In Memoriam,"’
“Musings,” “The Golden Letter,” “Pretty Village Maid,’ ‘“Nel-
lie,” ‘“‘The Press,’”’ ‘‘Home,” *“ihe Lost Inheritance,” ““My Flow-
er,” “Caught in Spite of Himself,’ “The Captive Indian Boy,"
“Beware,” “I Think of Thee,” ‘‘Nature’s Artiess Auctioneer,”
“A Prayer,” “To Emma,” ‘Tecumseh Viewing the Battle of
Lake Erie,’ “Old Gray,” ‘‘Woman’s Work,’ ‘tA Noble Deed,”
“Bill the Drunkard,” ‘‘In Memory of the Dead,” “The Frog
Prince,” ‘‘The Romance of a Glove,” “Complaint,” “Daisy Dar-
jing,” *‘A Letter to my Betrothed,” “To My Wife,” “‘Gertue,”’
“One Year Ago,” “Our Nation’s Dead,” “Childhood,” ‘‘Why
Will Norton Remained Single,” ““Lancy’s Manor,” “‘A Startling
Adventure,” “Lightfoot’s Revenge,” *‘The Last Witness,’’ ‘A
Reply,” “Zerahb,” ‘‘Bachelor of Arts,” “The Country,’ ‘My Sun-
day Morning,” “Sweet Rose,” “How a Murderer was Caught,”
“appeal to Parents,” “The Border Scout,” ‘‘Carry’s Accident.”’
“The Romance of a Hop-yard,” ‘‘Our Pic-Nic Party, ‘Charles
Dickens,” ‘‘My Years in the West,” “The Homey Manden’s
Prayer,” “Summer,” ‘‘Rome,” ‘Pictures in the Fire,” “Upon
Change of Name,” “The Forty Crowned,” “Attacked by Pi-
rates,” “Visions ” “The Giant of the White Rock,” ‘‘Essay on
Temperance,” “Well-a-day,” and “Beautiful Visions.”

a

Two New Stories Next Week.

In the NEXT NUMBER of the New York WexKLY two New Stories
willbe commenced—one by Anniz AsHMORE, entitled, ‘THE.
Diamonp CoLtaR; or, THE BisHop’s Dest; and another charm-
ing Story of English Society, which will be especially pleasing
to our lady readers. :

————_>-@<—____—__

The Josh Billings Papers.

The monkey iza human being, a little undersised, kivvered
with hair, hitched to a-tail, and filled with the devil.

Naturalists will tell you, if you ask them, that i am mistaken,
that i mean well enuff, and don’t mean tew deceive ennybody,
but the monkey iz nota human being, he iz simply a» pun on
humanity, a kind ov malishus joke ov Jupiter’s, a libel, with
a long tail tew it, a misterious. mixtur ov Judikrous mischief,
and stale humor, a kind of paging hobbyhoss, or connekting
gang-plank, between man in his dignity and the beast in his
darkness.

I hav a hi opinyun ov the naturalist, and all kinds ov the dic-
tionary fraternity, and touch mi hat tew them, when we meet,
and i respect them for what they know, butdon't worship them
e what they don’t know, asthe heathens do, their wodden
gods.

I don’t kare what the philosophers say they kan prove in this
matter, i tell you, confidenshally, mi christian triend, that you
and the monkey, are reiashuns.

1 don’t pretend tew say that you are brothers and sisters, but
1 do pretend tew state, that monkeys, or enny other kind ov
critters, who exercise reason, even if the light ov it, is az dtm az
a number six dip candle, in the rays ov the noon day sun, are
our relashuns, for a certain amount.

The only fence between the animal and brute folks, iz instinkt
and reason, and if the natralist kant prove thatthe monkey
don’t show a single glimmerimg ov reason, i say he must step
oph from the monkey’s tail, and let him eat at the fust table.

The monkey iz imitative tew the highest degree, and imita-
shun iz a direkt transgreshun ov the law ov instinkt, and iz fal-
low ground within the domain of reazon.

Instinkt don’t step one single step aside, tew smell ov a flower
or pull a cat’s tail. F

But argument ain’t mi fighting weight, i git along the best by
aserling things az they strike me. and isay upwards ov four
thousand things every vear, that ikant prove, enny more than
i kan prove what melody iz.

The naturalist may hav theirown way, but they kant hay
mine, what little i know about things haz bin whispered tew
me by the spirits, orsome other romping critters, and is az dis-
tinkt and butiful, sumtimes to me, asa dream on an empty
stummuk; it may be ail wrong but it never iz viscious, and thus
i konklude it iz edukashun.

Now idon‘t advise ennybody else tew depend for their learn-
ing upon sich prekarious school masters, the best way iz tew fol-
low the ruts, 1t will take you totown just az it did yure daddy.

The route tat i travel iz cirkuitus and blind sometimes, it
haznow and then a vista, or a landscape in it, that iz worth,
tew me, more than a farm ov tillable land, but you Kant raize
good white beans on a landskape.

Whenever i drop mi subject, and begin tewstrut in the sub-
burbs ovsentimentility and proverbial pomposity, ialwus think
ov a gobble turkey, in a barn-yard, on dress parade, and that is
jist what i am thinking ov now, and therefore i will dismount
from the turkey, and git aboard the monkey, (the monkey az he
am) once more. ,

Pure deviltry iz the monkeys right bower; he iz only valuable,
(az personal property) tew look at, and wonder what he iza
going tew do next.

He iz a jack at all trades, put him in a barber shop, he will
lather, and try tew shave himself, and color his mustash, put
him in a dri good store, and he wiil handle more goods, than
the best retail clerk in A. T. Stewart’s employ.

The monkey haz not got a logikal head, itiz tew mutch like a
pin hed, all in a heap to onst, but hiz face isa concentrated dew
drop of malishus mischief.

He resembles the rat tarrier in countenance, and skratches
hiz hed, az natral az a distrikt skool boy, and undoubtedly for
the same reason.

Monkeys never grow enny older in expreshun, a yung monkey
looks just like his grandpapa, melted up and born again.

They are sometimes kept as pets, buti should rather watch
two adopted orphan boys, fresh from the Home of the Friend-
less, than two monkeys.

They will eat everything that a man will, except bolony sar-
sage, here they show more instinkt, than reason.

But after all, tho the monkey shows evident sighns ov reazon,
they are, az a means ov praktikal grace, the most useless krit-
tersi hav ever pondered over and skratched mi head about.

They won’t work, and they wont play, unless they Kan raize
sum devil, they are too mutch like «a human being in looks, and
actions to kill off, it is impossible tew gaze at ope and git mad
at him, and it iz impossible tew laff at their smirking santanity,
without getting mad at yureself.

If enny boddy should make me a present ov a monkey, i don't
know now, whether i should konsider it intended for malice, or
a joke, but ido know, that i should send him back »i the same
person that fetched him, tew the donor, marked in loud itaiicks

In conkJusion; thare iz only one thing that i havea grate ~

ply ov doubt about, in reference tew the monkey, and that
is moral stamina, while m the garden ov Eden, with the rest

ov the critters, previous tew the time that Adam fell;—was he

strickly on the square, or was he just az full ov the devil azhe

1s now

An answer tew the above konumdrum iz earnestly solicited.

————__>-0+_____—___

WE are gratified at learning that Messrs. H. 0. Hough-
ton & Oo., of the Riverside Press, did not sanction the
paragraph in a circular purporting to be issued by them,
which reflected on the character and standing of the
New YORK WEEKLY. The circular was issued without
the firm’s knowledge or consent. Some petty fellow used
the name of an honorable firm to cover a very mean act.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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—————— eee

ROBED FOR TH#H BURIAL.

 

 

BY MRS, SOPHIA P. SNOW.

Beautiful sleepers,

Rebed for the graye,
All of our efforts

Were powerless to save,
Hope lingered with us

As long as the breath—

Thou wert triumphant

; ae ge £4 hn
Beautiful leeks ;
Never til | now, : :
Smile so angelic.
Encircled thy brow;
Gaze on her tenderly
Now while ye may,
Earth-clods to-morrow
Will hide her away.

e Beautifui sleeper,
Grief moves thee not, ca
All of earth’s sorrows
Henceforth forgot;
Faces bend o’er thee
The same as of yore,
Lips press thine fondly,
They answer no more.

Beautiful sleeper, _
Life’s work is done,

     

 

He: er
Gained is the city
Thou one day wouldst win,
Pearly gates opened
And ushered thee in!

 

~ Flaw in the Diamond:

MORLEY ASHTONS SECRET.

» By Charles T. Manners.
- . Author of “‘OcTAVIA’s PRIDE” and *-LORD OF LYLE.”

 

[“The Flaw in the Diamond” was commenced in No. 38._ Back
numbers can be had from all News Agents in the United States. ]

CHAPTER VII.

“Ada, my darling, you are avery fortunate girl,” said
Lady Harriet, coming out from a bevy of aristocratic
mammas, who had been fluttering and caressing their
promising young member, until Morley Ashton was fain
to beat a retreat. “You will be the envy of all the shire,
when the engagement comes to be announced.”?

“Iam very proud of my daughter’s conquest,” reiter-
ated Sir Anson Donnithorne, earnestly, on his return
from a political dinner, where all the wise and great men
had been gathered. ‘‘Ashton’s i, to-day was the
clearest and ablest of the whole lot, and Lord Clives says
he will rule the House in another year.”

And pretty Ada blushed, and smiled, and turned the
glittering engagement ring so lately placed upon her fin-
ger, and quite agreed with them.

It was very intoxicating and sweet to the emancipated

- school-girl to find herself floating on this sparkling cur-
rent, the envied and observed of all. She pleased her-
self, as a child might, saying over to herself all the fa-
mous beile in the lemon silk must envy and lament. She

_ enjoyed thoroughly seeing this grave, magnificent man
stop short in the midst of his powerful arguments, and
the pale, statuesque face flush into warm life, sparkle with
tender devotion, at a single glance or gesture of hers. It
was as natural for Ada to enjoy in coquettish triumph the
adulation of gentlemen as fora kitten to purr. Soshe
was happy now, and too full of girlish excitement to
pause to inquire into its source or meaning. One thing
was, perhaps, a little significant. She enjoyed her lover

_ very much better in company—before people, to whom
she could exhibit by a hundred innocent little maneuvers
her power over him, than she did in the ¢ete-a-tetes which

 

he managed to obtain now and then. i

His manner when they were alone puzzled her, and,
though she scarcely understood it, Ada Donnithorne was
a little afraid of him.

Thus, when one day he held her littie nervous hand in
his, and steod.looking down silently upon his betrotial
ring a-sparkle on the taper finger, he suddenly looked up
into her face with those grave, deep eyes of his.

“Little Ada,’ said he, “do you know, when I Jook at
the ring there, and think what it means, I am filled with
a strange dread? Heaven knows, I mean that circlet
shall work all it promises—true gold, genuine diamonds
for “your future life,’ sunshine and gladness always. But
we mortals are, after all, so thoroughly mortal; such

. Strange chances come, beyond our power to foretell or
avert. Ada—Ada, what if I take you, meaning to give
you a flowery path under a sunny sky, and in some
strange, inscratable way, I, your guide, lose the way, and
the path leads geet sharp rocks, into painful scenes, un-
der a chilling sky, apitiess storm? 0, iittie Ada, what will
you say to me then ?”’ “hy :

Ada looked up into the quivering face with wide, as-
tonished eyes. Sie half shrank away.

“I don’t understand you,” said she, a little pettishly.
“JT should not like to ve out in the rain. I never can climb
Ove rocks. You must never take me to any such
. There went a little shuddering spasm over his face—a
cloud oa upon his forehead. He was both pained and

eved. xs
ath saw that something was wrong. She had, how-
ever, but one resource, and for the present that was po-
tent. 7

She puton her preftiest, most charming smile, she
tossed back the gold-tinged curls, and held out to him
oe dainty hand, with its fingers tipped with a rose-leat’s

nge. eat 3

“Come,’’ said she, ‘oh, Morley, come down and see my
flowers, that are to take the prize at the horticultural
fair. Mamma is going to send them in my name. What
shall I give yot out of the prize money?”

Ah! this sweet, charming, infantine beauty, of pink
cheeks contrasting with white brow. Of starry eyes and

lips, and dancing tresses of glossy hair, how pow-
erful it is! Youth’s magic talisman indeed.

Morley Ashton forgot the momentary chill of disap-
pointment and vague foreboding. He drew the graceful
creature closer to his side, imprisoned the fair white
hand, and went down to the gardens with her, laughing
and joyous.

But Ada Donnithorne shrugged her white shoulders
more than once at the remembrance of it.

“Whatever shallI do, if he has such moods, and I
cannot smile himout ofit? 1 wish—I declare 1 do wish
he wasn’t quite so dreadfully wise and learned, then [
should understand something of what he means when he
talks that way.”

And Morley returning to that little speech of hers in the
privacy of hischamber sighed uneasily, and the pale,
masterful face grew paler and sterner, anda black mel-
ancholy crept into the fine dark eyes,

‘What shall I do to silence this gnawing dread and
foreboding?’ he exclaimed, presently rising up, and
striding to and fro, “it is worse than folly. I have laid
out my path. Ihave walked in it in the eyes of all men,
it is too late to turn back. Icannot undo anything.”

He folded his arms, and stared before him as if facing
some defying or menacing foe. And then suddenly he
flung up his arms, the haughty head dropped low upon
his breast. His voice was a wail rather than spoken sen-
tences.

“And yet—and yet—if I could turn back; if I could defy
the worst, and be brave enough to bear the world’s scorn
and contumely. Oh, how sweet and restful it would be
were only she willing, content—I think it would be all I
should need—a pure, tender woman’s love and support !
And yet I know I do not deserve it. It is that thought
which haunts and frightens me.’

He stretched ont hishand, and with a bitter smile fixed
his eyes on the ring, which had been sent home that
morning, and was shining now upon his finger.

“At least lam not a hypocrite with myself. I chose for
my signet the fairrepresentative. I show to the world
if it will but have eyes to see—the flaw in the diamond.”

At that very moment his eye was caught by the large
lettering of an advertisement in the newspaper lying
half opened on the table. He caught it up, read it through
with a swift lightning glance, and exclaimed:

“‘Good Heavens ! good Heavens! isthis a step farther
—or a threatening blow ?””

It was a brief paragraph—only this:

“Tr the woman, Ruth Weston, who was housekeeper
Jor the late Paul Barker, of Holly Bank, should see this
she will confer a great favor, as wellas hear something
toher great advantage, by addressing,

| A, X., 00% 109, L office.”

Morley Ashton read the paragraph over at least three
times, and with each reading his face settled into a more
rigid determination, as well as an icier pallor.

Once a kind of hopeful gleam brightened over it.

‘It may be a new effort of Biackwell’s, my own law-

er!’ he muttered. ‘1 offered them a generous reward
o find the woman for me. Some new clue may have
geen , and they are taking this method of pursuing
the ter. But no,’’ he added, a moment after, “they
would have written about it.”

He was stirless a few moments longer, lost in dee
thought, then drew toward him the gold and ebony ink
tray, seized upon a sheet of paper, and wrote swiftly:
“To A. X., who advertises in the daily of the 16th:

“Should your advertisement bring to light any com-
munication, or knowledge of the whereabouts of that
Ruth Weston, who was housekeeper at Holly Bank, be
ey enough to send word to one who has sought in vain

r the woman these several years back. For which
favor | May ask your own reward from one who
is much» remen in Ruth Weston, and anxious to con-
tribute in some way to her support.

, “MORLEY ASHTON,
“Ashton Villa, Chardon Valley,”

He took a great deal of pains to write his name in full,
and legibly. He folded it with swift, firm fingers, thrust

 

  

109, L—— office.

The letter was mailed the next morning. The Hon.
Mr. Ashton was always particular about his letters, and
the valet did pot marvel im the Jeast that he watched this

one into the post office with nis own eyes. No response
came to it, though the gentieman watched the mails
feverishly, and kept a strict oversight of tne colamns of
the Daily . Three weeks after he had another
shock. A new advertisement appeared among the per-
sonals:

6-0 RUTH W—, OF H—-Y B—-K. WHERE ARE YOU?

I can’t find a trace of you. Iam safely ashore again, and
no welcome. Write orsend to Mark, at the hotel, G
Square.”’

The cold perspiration beaded the forehead of the Hon.
Morley Ashton. ‘

Who was this? The same, or another—still another
searching for that mysterious woman? Somehow it did
not sound like the same person. He could not dissuade
himself from the impression that the advertisements came
from two different sources. ;

He had had enough of writing. After fretting and
fidgeting a day or two, he took a sudden resolution. Mr.
Asnton packed his valise, made a few excuses to his
mother and ladylove, and posted up to Lonaon.

He went promptly to the hotel, penciled a card.

“In answer to ‘Mark's’ adyertisement,” and gave it to
the clerk, who sent him with many an obsequious bow—
for in London the promising young member was as well
Known as in his own shire—into a private waiting room.

While he sat there, nervously impatient and anxious
for the denouement, the door opened, and a fresh-faced,
handsome young fellow, eyes sparkling, cheeks glowing,
with a bundle under his arm, redolent of that rich, ro-
mantic perfume which only tropic seas can give, came
dashing into the room. F

“QO, Ruth, you naughty woman!” he exclaimed, in a
joyous, musical voice, and then paused, a blank cloud of
disappointment and sorrow dropping over his face. “I
beg your pardon, sir. I thoughi—l had acard. There
must bea mistake.” ,

“Only on your part, sir,’ said Mr. Ashton, with that
ready winning grace of manner so peculiar tohim. “I
sent up the card to you withthe reason why.I intruded
upon you—because of your advertisement. I also have
been searching and seeking for this Ruth Weston. Iam

 

 

 

 

 

 

sorry that I disappointed you. You thougtit that she had
come."?

“I did indeed.
can she be?”

“That is the question which perplexes me. May I ask
if this advertisement of last week is your first?”

“Certainly. Lhave only been in England a week.
I went down to Holly Bank, expecting tofind her. I did
not know the—the master there was dead.” ;

“Did you ever live there? Is Rutn Weston a relative
of yours?’? questioned Mr. Ashton, closely scrutinizing
the ingenuous face of the youth.

Mark Daly colored slightly.

“No, sir. Ruth was no relation, but she was my best
friend. IfI have losther, then there is no one in England
to welcome me.”

“You have lived away from England then. Pardon
me. Ido not intend to be inquisitive, but our mutual
anxiety to find this Ruth Weston certainly interests me
in you.”? N

“T have been in India; a private secretary for several
years. I was tired of the life. Besides the death of my
employer gave me opportunity to make a change. Some-
how I seemed drawn back to England. It isstrange Ruth
never wrote me tliatshe had left Holly Bank. I am afraid
she is dead.” - s

Morley Ashton was not afraid of such a discovery. He
thought, even while the lad spoke, what a weight the
positive certainty would take from hismind. But he had
also thought for this lonely youth. It was like his gener-
ous, benevolent disposition, when he said presently, in
his kind, earnest voice: :

*) like your appearance very much, young sir. I should
be very glad to secure your services for myself. My pre-
sent secretary has hardly the capacity for my work. I
can give him more suitable work, with the same wages,
and he will rejoice, as well as I, at the change.”

Mark’s frank face showed nis surprise. '

“JT ought to have given you my name. It is Morley
Ashton,’? continued the gentleman; and he added, hesi-
tatingly: “I am the present owner of Holly Bank.”

““And you live there ?”? asked Mark, eagerly.

“No, not at present. Iam at Ashton Villa, in Chardon
Valley. My writing is mostly copying letters and speech-
es. How does my proposition strike you?’

“I am very grateful to you for your kindness, sir. If
you will give me a little time to hunt for poor Rath, I
shall be glad to come,’’

“You may always have time for that object. I told you
before how anxious I am to find her. Well, so then my
visit here has not. been without result.
address. You may come down without giving notice,
when you have given up the search.”

“You are very good. I can show you my recommenda-
tions now if you like.”

Moriey Ashton smiled—that smile that won so many
hearts to him.

“My dear fellow, the only recommendation I ask I have
read some time ago—your frank, honest countenance.”

Of course Mark, so famous for his blushes, was crimson
now. Mr. Ashton took leave of him, and went off to the
office of the Daily. The magic talisman of gold soon
had all hands looking up the circumstances of our ad-
vertisement for Ruth Weston. Who brought it? Sift-
ing down closely there was found one who remember-.
ed the circumstances. Oh, yes, he remembered the man,
a tall, square-shouldefed person, with trim, iron-gray
whiskers, and blue glasses. The peculiarity about him
was his eyes, for somehow he did not seem to look
through the glasses, and the clerk being mounted on
the platform above him, had seen that one was gray,
and the other was gray only on one half the iris, the
Seeetas being ee eae
and the singularity of the advertisement, had been im-
pressed upon his mind. es , o

What has happened to her? Where

Morley Ashton next preceeded to the L——~ Post-+

“Had any letters come for A, X., box 1099)
The post-master burst into a laugh at the question.
“Yes, sir, just one letter.” And the gentleman in ‘the
blue glasses snatched it out of my hand like one mad, he

was so eager for it; but when he read it he swore a big.

oath, threw the letter down on the floor, stamped on it,

and strode away. ‘Here is the letter; would you like to |,

see it???
He handed into Morley’s. hands his own letter.
‘a ‘The latter went back to Chardon Valley more perplexed
lan ever,
‘Mark was innocent enough. There was no trouble
about his advertisement. But who was A, X.?? = ;

 

CHAPTER VIII.

Mabel, waiting there in the little chamber of the inn,
counted the very moments with feverish impatience.
How long it seemed ere silence settled over the jiouse,
and the stable yard! Oh, if the good Quaker’s plans
should fail, if he should be discovered! Could she bear
to lose this first ray of hope? She wondered if it woulda
be possible for her to live, and be what they were pre-
paring for, the wife of the son—the helpless confederate
of these tyvo reckless villains—all her life tied to them as
now. And now that this blessed Providence had come,
promising not only escape, but kindly care, a loving
home, it would be tenfold more intolerable.

There in the darkness, shrinking up against the wall,
she clasped her hands and lifted np her tearful eyes, pray-
ing Heaven to favor this attempt, or to give her the
wider, broader escape into the grave.

And the hours dragged themselves away.

Really and truly the inn had become quiet, and was se-
curely locked in slumber at an unusually early hour.
The generous quantity of coffee provided for the guests
accounted for the circumstance. Altter the strangers had
left the table, mine host went out to profit by the still un-
emptied coffee pot, and his wife joined him, and when
they had finished, there was stil) a little for the cook, and
Dave, the hostler.

“It’s all owing to the young lady, and the tother man
on the gray horse, not taking any,’? said Dave, with a
grimace, ‘‘or you and J, Sally, wouldn’t have come in for
a cup of coffee, just at bed time. Seems to me the dregs
are kinder bitter. Well, it’s powerful strong. I hope it
won’t keep us awake, ’cause we must be up early.”

Dave had his wish. There was nobody kept awake by
the coffee. The landlord and his wife would not have
stirred had a thiefcrashed to atoms every glass in the
bars every dish in the china closet. The stove might have
exploded, and the frying-pay walked up into her room,
and rapped her smartly on either ear, ana honest Sally
would have still lain there on her feather bed, like a log
in a bed of heather. Nor would Dave have responded
had all the horsemen in town shouted for their beasts. |

More wonderful than this, there was no starting up,
with oath and angry haste, when a step passed softly to
Matbel’s door, and a voice spoke quietly: '

“Young lady, thee mayst open thy window. I am go-
ing below now, and shall have the ladder there apace.??

Mabel sprung up, her heartin her mouth. But there
was no need of fear. The coast was clear.

Abiatha Broad coolly let himself out, found the key of
the stable-door in its cunning hiding-pla
White-ear, saddied, and then came with the ladder. Up
above he saw a white figure balancing itself on the win-
dow-sill. If it had not been dark he would have seen a
pallid face lit up with the fire of hope, nerved to the
courage of desperation.

“Thee canst take time, and have no fears.
with thee, I trust, We cannot go without that, and I be
blameless,”?

“I have got it,” answered she, and watched anxiously
his attempts to raise the ladder. It was not done without
difficulty, but was finally accomplished. (

The girl came bounding down, and seized his hands.

“Heaven bless you—Heaven forever bless you !””

Abiatha took the two trembling hands into his,

‘And thee, too, my poor child,’’ he said, tenderly. “Be-
lieve me, there shall be pleasanter paths for these tender
feet. And now, help me to replace the ladder. The bird
must be flown and have left no sign behind.. I made the
hostler get it from the loft on pretense of reaching the up-
per nail above White-ear’s stall, last night, and he must
find it in the same place.”’
nea se wee ene ete helped the girl to White-

e, and sat behind her himself, supporting her
to the best of his ability. ewer thes:

They went out softly from the yard, the sagacious ani-
mal pricking up his ears, and lifting his feet daintily, as
if he understood the secrecy of these unusuai proceed-
ings. When they were once on the highway, Abiatha
shook out the rein.

 

 

“Now, White-ear, thou may’st make good thy master’s

Here is my |

Very peculiareyes. That, |

| ble, he had provided for his secretary’s reception, and

, brought out

The book is |,

maid

 

 

    

boasting. Let us see how soon we can be brought to a
safe harbor.’

And White-ear understood, and flang out those long
limbs of his, and stretched out that awkward, Crane-like
neck , and away they flew.

“Well done—well done !’ said Abiatha Broad, patting
the steaming neck, when they slacked up atthe first bill.
‘‘Aaron Peasely is justified in his idolatry of a beast.
White-ear, if thou hadst lived alone for this night, it
would be enough.”

Mie left her safely at a small cottage, which, to her sur-
| prise, was uninhabited, although neatly and tastefully
furnished, The Quaker did not seem surprised. He took
a key from his pocket, and’ walked in coolly, and pro-
duced a light, and brought out provisions from a closet.

“Mrs. Wheaton, it seems, isaway. Gone down to her
relations in Dorset, I presume. Well, she allows me many
liberties, and thee need not fear an intrusion. Thee must
make thyself comfortable inmy absence. Thee wilt not
be afraid to stay here alone???

The gurl shivered a little, but answered, bravely:

“No, no! if only they will not follow.”? _

“Thee need not fear that, nor any trouble. Keep the
doors locked, and the sliutters closed. If Mrs, Wheaton
comes, tell her freely thy stery; but, I mistrust, thee will
be unmolested. Go to bed, and sleep tranquilly. Assoon
as I have seen how thy friends bear thy loss, and what
they mean to do, I shall come to thee. I must lose no
time in getting back to the inn.’’

She stretched out her hands with an unconscious grasp
toward him. :*

“And if any one comes—if any one knocks—must I iet
them in?” ;

“No; for the rightful owner will not knock. She has
her key, and will come in ‘unbidden. Art tiou afraid,
who hast braved so much???”

“No; I wild not be,” answered she, hastily; “but I can-
not forget that. am a weak woman, all alone.”

“I must teach thee that no woman need to be weak.
What! is it a little brute strength, or the brave, manly
spirit which makes the difference between man and wo-
man? Mrs. Whearon stays here alone, and fears naught.
See! why should it be that it is so much more dangerous
for thee to go to thy bed alone, than forme? Ifa thiefora
murderer comes, he finds the man as powerless in slum-
ber as a child, or a woman. It is not strength that avails,
but will, courage, dexterity. I must introduce thee to
Mrs. Wheaton’s defenders—come !”?

He took her to a neat little chamber, opened a secret
box made into the panel-work of the bedstead, and took
out two tiny revolvers.

“Here, my child, look at them. Verily, they be terrible
things. My brethren censure those who, Wearing the garb
of peace, touch them. But 1am a’singular person; I am
led by divers paths; I say not but I have enemies. I con-
fess to thee 1 carry one of these little defenders, whose
power is beyond that of the biggest prize-fighter in the
land; and I gave these to Mrs. Wheaton. Look thou, if
danger menaced—but it will net—couldst not thy slender
finger, pressing on this delicate mechanism, work as true
and unerripg fligit for the ballas the best man among
us? Wouldst not thee be able to hold at bay the .brawni-
est-fisted rufiian, pointing this shining tube at his breast?
Iam grieved to leave theé*timorous. Thee must pluck
up courage, and think only of what great danger thou
hast escaped.”?

“You are right, it is worse than weak, it is wicked in me
to be afraid here in this peaceful house. It isofmen, not
solitude, I should stand in fear. Do not delay another
moment. I will lock the door after you.” }

A grand resolution shone over the pale, beautiful face.
The Quaker looked a moment earnestly into the deep,
dark eyes, and smiled.

“Yes, I will go. Thee hast fought thy first battle with
timidity, and conquered, Hereafter thou wilt marvel to
tind how easy it is for a Woman to have courage and be
braye. wig 4 +

He bent down, and kissed the fair forehead, and went
off abruptly. The girl heard him lock the door after him,
and the click of the key as he withdrew it. Then came
the regular thud of White-ear’s footialls passing out of
the yard, down the street--echoing fainter and fainter—
and ceasing at last. é fa :

She was alone—all alone. Ah, but with Heaven above!
She knelt down, gently clasped her hands and lifted her
eyes upward. Yhere were ne words. When such emo-
tion overpowers us, it is only the heart can speak.

It ismo myth, no fanatic’s vision of the imagination.
seh Ronen are answered—strength is given—protec-
tion felt. ’ : .

When this lovely girl, so strangely hemmed in hitherto
by a cruel power, rose from-her knees her beautiful face
was shining with a glad hope, a sweet content.

She had escaped! she was safe from her enemies. She
went quietly to the couch and fell into a sweet and placid
slumber, from which the morning sunshine, stealing
through the curtained windows, only roused her.

“Sir, this is infamous,” the remark of the aristo-
cratic Colonel Falkinstone, who lad been aroused from
his deep sleep only after long thundering on his bed-room
door. ‘I wanted you to call me early. J’ve oversiept
myself by two hours.” .;. <« ‘24

“dt isn’t my fault, sir. I should say indeed we were all
bewitched. The whole house has slept till this time.??

_ There must be a charm in your bed, friend,” said the
Quaker, mildly. ‘“Itis long since I have enjoyed such
sound slumber as under thisroof to-night.” ~

‘Sound sorcery!’ muttered Boniface, indignantly.’
“I'd like to find out what's at the bottom.”

“Well, let us have breakfast and be off as soon as we
can,” said the aristocrati¢ colonel. ‘Come, my son, let
us call Mabel. Knock at her door and see if she also is
under this mysterious soforifie spell.” :

The young man left.them, was absent ten minutes or
so, during whidli Abiatira wd had ey
the goods je of 100 ai
‘came down stairs, however,

“Father, father, I knocked and

 
     
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 

 

 

; CHAPTER IX.

ay ~_ mane aoe to pene _ ene like
ten days after h er peculi troduction to its mas-
ter. The latter pe to bee abecnt at the time, but
with that kindly foresight for which he was so remarka-

left some copying—just enough to give him the impress-
ion of. being at work. He had prepared for him, like-
wise, a comfortable, home-like room near hisown. Had
‘taken of his own valuable time to select the articles of
furniture, the pictures, the books, which gave the young
man such a genial, cheery expression as he looked around
the apartment, and sent a thrill of grateful confidence
into his heart. mS

Now, Mark Daly’s was one of those zealous, earnest na-
tures which make swift conclusions and endow their he-
roes with wonderful attributes. He heard the talk of the
subordinates on the place, le listened to the warn eulo-
gy of the gentry con in the public places. He
saw for himself the unséifish kindness, the generous fore-
thought given to everything affecting the welfare or com-
fort of those, whether high or low, in any way connected
with Morely Ashton, and straightway he lifted the image
of that gentleman to the highest Seat in his regards, and
bent low before it with all the loyal respect and affection
of a subject before his king. a

He pleased himself with picturing possible contingen-
cies where his ready devotion and faithful service should
be able to win the great man's friendship.

To be his friend, the trusted friend and confidant of
Morley Ashton grew to be the summit of the young secre-
tary’s ambition. a

Mr. Ashton came home and walked in upon his secre-
tary with a genial smile and an outstretched hand. es

“My dear fellow, so you are here. Iam perfectly. de-
lighted to find all that corresponaence accomplished and
oif my hands. Howdo you find yourself? Comfortable,
LThope. And you mustn’t get homesick at Ashton Viilla.’’

“No, indeed, sir, there is littlechance. Ihave not found
myself so contente@ anywhere in all my rovings.””

“That is well. And how about your seareh?”

“No news, sir, none atall. fam afraid poor Ruth Wes-
ton is dead,” é

The Hon. Morley Ashton stroked his silky beard with
his eyes far away. hs

“Well,” said he, presently, after a long silence, “I am
relieved to find you contented. . 1 was afraid one of your
adventurous habits would find it dull here. ‘Rowley told
you, didn’t he, that Brown Bess in the stable was solely
at your service? Ido not ask close application,to your
duties. Ido not believe any one can concentrate their
energies so long at a time without impairing them. 1 pre-
fer that you should take several hours’ recreation every
day, for'l know the rest of the time you. will be keener
and brighter. And. above all things, make yourself at
home. | am going to take a little ran over to Donni-
‘thorne Hall. When I come back we'll look over that pile
of letters, and I’ll pencil out my ideas of the sort of an-
swer they require,’’

- And then he had bowed himself out, that same smile
on the Statuesque face when the door closed on itas when
he first appeared, ‘

“What @ noble, perfect gentleman he is,’ ejaculated
Mark Daly, enthusiastically. ’

And he only echoed the. same. assertion when his em-
ployer returned and devoted two hours to business.

The next day there was another call away. The excite-
ment of the coming election left him ho rest. An urgent
letter asked for a speech in an uncertain district, and no
one but Morley Ashton could accomplish anything.

Mark saw him knit his brow and sigh,

“T shall be thankful when‘ this election is over,” he mur-
mured; ‘it leaves meno time for sweeter and gentier
thoughts,”

“He is thinking of his mother. It is touchingly beauti-
i aah tender affection for each other,” commented

ark.

For no one had told him about Miss Donnithorne. In-
deed the engagement was not known outside the circle
of immediate friends. Just now Lady Constance was ill,
and there had been no company whatever in the house.

But Mark Daly was. destined. to make Ada Donni-
thorne’s acquaintance, and in 2 somewhat romantic way.
He was riding out on Brown Bess, one pleasant after-
noon, after having despatched a whole tray of letters to
the mail, and selected a pleasant country road, taking his

 

woods, and the pure summer air, and eyeing indolently,
among other things, a pony carriage and a pair of sports-

men on the slope above him. Brown Bess, rather resent-
ful of the laggard pace, upon seeing company ahead, took
matters into her own guidance, and prickivg op her ears,
set into a brisk trot, and was soon Close upon the car-
rlage.

Just as she was shaking her graceful head in satisfac-
tion at this result, the sportsmen, who had vaulted the
fence and crossed into the fiela on the other side, fired
suddenly at a leaping rabbit a couple of shots. Brown
Bess whirled about, and pranced a little; but the horses
in the carriage gave a wild plunge, and their sudden
leap jerked the reins, which bad been held carelessly,
from the coachman’s hands. He swung himself down
swiftly to recover them, but another plunge completed
the disaster. Helost his balance and fell, striking his
head against the shaft, and dropping insensible to the
ground. The swinging reins and falling body added to
the terror of the frightened animals. They flew like mad
creatures from side to side, and threatened every mo-
ment to overturn the coach, and dash its occupants to
the ground.

Mark Daly had not knocked around the world, in so
many different capacities, to lose his self-possession or
his gallantry in such an emergency.

Brown Bess found, suddenly, that it was no idle dream-
er’s hand which held the reins. She was pulled on one
side, and pressed into a sharp trot over the turf and low
bushes. it was well Morley Ashton kept no common
stock in his stables; and Brown Bess had her best to do
to gain upon the flying horses in the carriage. But those
poor frightened creatures took a zig-zag path, and an
iron hand held Brown Bess to one as straight as an
enete though it led over stones and brambles, as well as
turf. :

At length they were abreast, and now Mark Daly had
his first glimpse ofthe occupant, for there was but one.
That view of the white agonized face, with its terrified
blue eyes, and pallid lips; the fair hands stretched out
imploringly to him, was enough to rouse all the chivalry
of a gallant nature. bi

‘Don’t be frightened; I will stop them,’ shouted Mark,
and wheeled Brown Bess directiy across the path. There
was a shock and plunge. Mark was nearly dragged from
his saddle, but his knees clenched it like a vice, and he
managed to keep his hold. His strong right hand had
seized the bridle of the near horse, and clung to it.

Fortune certainly favored him. He never knew exactly
how it was done; but in a moment ortwo more there he
was, by the trembling, shivering horses, and the carriage
was still,

Tne door was thrust open, a graceful figure bounded out
—came flying to him.

“Qhi you have saved my life—those dreadful, dreadful
horses!”

And then wavered, slipped back a little, and dropped
like a snow wreath on the ground.

Mark had his hands fall, then, if never before in his life.
There was Brown Bess, thrusting her head before his face
with a puzzled whinny, and the two horses shivering
like aspen leaves, and that pallid, lovely sylph lying in-
sensible, the golden curls and white feather tangled dis-
mally in the dust. i

He hastily tied the three horses to the nearest tree, and
then ran, lifted her in his arms, looking around him wist-
fully for a trace of water. None nearer than the meadow.
He knew by the fresher line of green there it was divided
bya brook. He carried her down there, the sweet, cold
face drooping against his shoulder, the golden floss of the
curls tangling in the buttons of his coat. +

He dropped the crystal shower daintily across the love-
ly face, almost dreading to see the silky fringe of the eye-
lid lift from the pearly fairness of the cheek. He pulled
off the delicate primrose gioves, and chafed the cold fin-
gers, never guessing that it was Morley Ashton’s dia-
mond which shimmered its blinding gleam into his
eyes.

And Ada presently opened those lovely violet eyes upon
the flushed, eager tenderness of the young man’s face,
and that charming piok stole softly info her cheeks, and
the sweet, childish lips took back their coral, and the
‘white hand was put frankly into his.

. “QO, sir, you have saved my life,’ said she again, and
looked around her wonderingly.
 “f brought you here, 1 was so frightened when you
fainted, and this was the only place to find water,” ex-
plained he. ‘I am so thankful I was on this road to-
day,’’ he added, a moment after.

“And the carriage—and the horses—and poor Thomas ?”?
asked .Miss Donnithorne, threading her ‘white fingers
among the disordered curls, and looking shyly at him,
and wondering where he had come from, that she had
never heard of this youthful Adonis.

“The carriage is over in the road; the horses are se-
curely tied. 1 don’t think there is much damage, except
a broken trace orso. But the coachman, I fear, is badly
hurt. He was thrown down, you know, at the first, and
it must be haif a mile back. Will it do for me to leave
you? Shall I go back and see?’

“Tcan goto the carriage, certainly; but I am such a
coward, I don’t want you to leave me alone,’ and, while
she shivered u little, she blushed also.

“T won’t leave you—I can’t leave you!’ exclaimed
Mark, chivalronsly. ‘Those wretches who caused all the
mischief, the sportsmen, must surely have gone to the
man’s assistance. Let me give you my arm—you must
be weak still.’”

_.And, with tender, assiduous care, he guided her across
the meadow, and lifted her over the fence.
By this time she had regained her strength and self-
possession, and was gay, bewiiching, coquettish Ada
again, forgetting the danger and fright, and thoroughly
enjoying the romantic adventure, and especially its hana-
some hero,
She held up her riding hat, with its dancing feather
broken and ¢ ed, and laughed merrily. ,
“What a figure I must be, to be sure, and such a fright
as you must think me.”’ :
Mark’s admiring eyes told plainly enough what he
thought, but the rash youth added more: ;
“I shall never need ngw to call upon my imagination
when I think of sylphs and fairies. 1 have seen their
ueen.
: “She ought to give ae a talisman, then,’ laughed
Ada. “What shall it be??? - ;

.“A fairy’s gift, to be sure—a tress of spun gold,” re-
turned the daring . k, pulling out his pen-knife. ‘
y Ada stood a moment looking atti oguishly; the
ext, she took up one of the ringiets, untwisted a littie
spiral coil, and held it up. ;
“Sever it then, brave knight. Surely you have won it,
\if ever guerdon was fairly earned.” ;

Mark’s pen-knife performed its duty deftly. He held
the shining tress.a moment, looking at it proudly; then
there Came an earnest, ardent look to his eye. He raised
it tohis lips, and bowed.

“Tt shall never leave my heart!” he said. °

Ada stood blashing, but thoroughly delighted with his
gallant behavior, ;

The sunshine glinting a ray across the diamond on her
finger, brought back a little discretion, however.

“All? she cried, stepping forward, ‘‘all this delay may
be fatal to poor Thomas, 1 will walk back with you, and
see what has happened.”

“There he comes, and the two sportsmen, as I surmised.
helping him. I think I can imagine something of the re-
lief he will feel to find you unharmed, and 1 am greatly
pleased to see him safe from serious injury,’’ said Mark,
pointing to the hurrying figures just emerging from the
bend of the road,

“Oh! the Lord be praised !? faltered the poor fellow.
“Q, Miss Donnithorne, I’ve been trembling all the way.
It wasn’t my fault, indeed it wasn’t. You’)l be good
enough to tell Sir Anson so.” :

“No, Thomas, you were not to blame. Nobody is es-
pecially to blame. I’m not angry at anybody except the
horses. Thomas, I won’t ride again with those horses.
You must practise them where guns are fired.”’

“T will, miss, indeed I will,” said Thomas, in a fever
of grateful relief, that his young mistress had no resent-
ment or indignation at the accident.

“How have you come off yourself??? asked Mark, as

homas limped along to examine the horses and the car-

‘Triage.

. “I’ve lamed my shoulder and my thigh, but that’s the

‘worst, though they say I was ever so long coming to; I

was stunned, | expect, sir. Was it youas saved my young
lady? Heaven bless you! Sir Anson would have killed
me if any harm had come to her.”

“Sir Anson Donnithorne—then she is his daughter?”
said Mark, dreamily.

“Yes, sir; the only child, sir, and the ground ain’t
good enough for her to walk on, in their eyes, and gold
and’ diamonds ain’t pretty enough for her,.’’

“That’s likely. I don’t wonder, l’m sure.”

And the young man went back where the heiress stood
waving her hat toand fro before her face, and fur-
tively watching him. ’

Thomas came back with his hat in his hand. I’ve made
things all right now, Miss Ada. Wecan soon get out of
this lonesome road. The horses are steady now, I

uess. :

“What! do you think I shall get into that carriage
again? no, indeed ! the horses may get home as best they
may, but I shall not trust myself to their caprice.”’

And the little lady tosged her head, and shook her curls
‘and looked the prettiest possible defiance.

“You shall ride on Brown: Bess, and I will lead her,”
Said Mark Daly, as by a sudden inspiration. ‘She is so
‘gentle, you will not mind the saddle.”

| Ada Donnithorne clapped her hands. ‘What a sight it
Will be. Let us start at once, and Thomas may go when
he chooses with the coach. And, sir knight, you must
_tell me of some other wonderful adventure of yours to
beguiie the tediousness of the way.”?

So they started, Brown Bess stepping proudly but cau-
tiously, as if conscious of her precious burden; the young
girl bending down her gay, laughing face, the golden
curis and the white feather fluttering together across her
shoulder, The graceful young man supporting her on
the saddle, and walking beside her with face turned ea-
gerly toward her.

“It makes a pretty picture,” quoth one of the sports-

“Faith ! Idon’t believe either of them are angry at us,
or the horses either.”

“One can’t say,” returned Thomas, rubbing his aching
shoulder; ‘‘but it may not bethe same with Sir Anson—
or—Mr, Morley Ashton.”

(to be continued.)
—— > t+

Two New Stories Next Week.

In the NEXT NUMBER of the New York WEEKLY two New Stories
willbe commenced—one by ANNIE AsHMORE, entitled, ‘Tux
Dramonp CoLiar; or, THE Bissop’s Dest;” and another charm-
ing Story of English Society, which will be especially pleasing

 

 

way leisurely, and drinking in the sweet breath of the

to our lady readers.

 

 

LITTLE BESS.

 

BY ZELIA GERTRUDE GREY.

 

Little cunning eyes of blue,

Little, warm pink fingers;
Little mouth, where every hour

s Some new beauty lingers.

Little dimples everywhere

In the fair flesh hiding;
Little chin that quivers so

At the least faint chiding.

Little rings of raven hair,
On white forehead lying;

Breath, like perfume of the flow’rs
When we go a-Maying.

Little heart, whose sunny light

' Through the blue eyesshining;

Little love, that round each one
Vinelike, close is twining.

Little feet! where will they stray?
Angels, guard them ever,

Till they press the haunted shore
Down by Death’s dark river.

 

A WILD STORY OF THE FAR NORTHWEST.

Little Buckshot.
The Whirlwing of the Prairie

By Ned Buntline, (Cot. E. Z. C. Jupson,)
Author of BUFFALO BILL, OUT OF THE DARK, Ec.

 

 

[Little Buckshot” was commenced in No. 33. Back num bers
can be had from News Agents throughout the United States. |

CHAPTER XLII.

For a little time after being carried into comfortable
quarters the wretched madman lay cold and trembling,
after a succession of violent convuisions, and the soldiers
with a humanity ever called out when a sick or a wound-
ed man, be he friend or foe, lies before them, had bathed
away the dust and dirt upon his face and form, and par-
tially clothed him.

When under tne influence of stimulants he was again
brought to consciousness, there was a different gleam in
his eyes from that which the lieutenant had first noticed.

They were moist, as if the dew of reason was dripping
from the brain, and a heart.long seared with the hot fire
of suffering was cooling down into the life of feeling once
more.

He seemed to recognize the lieutenant, for he beckoned
to him and whispered huskily:

“Let me see her—let me see her!’

Lieut. Wheelan took the picture from his pocket and
held it down before the pale, eager face.

Tears gushed from the great, wild eyes, and sobbing—
“My wife—my lost, lost wife!’ he kissed it over and over,
time after time.

“Caramba! Mi nina—mi hija!” shouted a hoarse voice
in the lieutenant’s ear, and with a sudden grasp, tiie pic-
ture was snatched from the hand of the gigantic sufferer,
by the scalped wanderer who had been found by Harvey
Wood’s party on the plains, inthe night storm.

- The lieutenant understood endugh anish to know
that the words shouted by the Mexican weve:

“Caramba! My child/ my daughter!’

He had but an instant to conjecture why
man claimed in it the likeness of a lost wie and fié oth
yet younger, called her his daughter, for the next instant
the giant rose to his feet, and with a howl more like that
of a beast than a man, sprang at the other, shouting:

“My wife—my lost wife!’

‘Mi hija—mi hija!’ screamed the other, as he pressed
the picture to his bosom which the large man so wildly
strove to snatch from him. :

Only for a second were the two men allowed to strug-
gle. Strong men quickly interfered, and both were sep-
arated and held apart.

It was very strange. They did not seem to know each
other—spoke no names—the picture was what they fought
for, what both in turn, as it was now held before them,
seemed to recognize with a wild, loving look, and each
to claim—the one 4s a wife, the other as a daughter.

The lieutenant placed the two men apart, each under a
guard, with directions to treat. them Kindly, but not to
let them escape, for both were evidently out of their
minds, and if free wouid wander only away to die.

Seeing that the sight of the picture had created so
much excitement, he took it with him to the bough shel-
ter which he had caused to be erected for his own quar-
ters, and there, in the contemplation of the most beauti-
ful face he thought he had ever seen, forgot for a moment
the strange surroundings of his position.

“Oh, could I but see the original,’? he sighed, while he
gazed upon it——“could I but see the original and win
her to be the companion of my soldier-life, it seems as if
I could ask no more on earth. I once dreamed of such a
face, on Ogallalla’s Swampy plain, and the dream has
never left me. If she snouid neither be wife or daughter,
and is indeed alive—if she were but alone and friendiess
in the wide cold world, how I would joy to try and make
life’s sunshine and life’s flowers bloom in her path! Oh
Heaven grant that she lives and is free fromclaim and
stain and wrong, I may find, woo and win her to my-

self.” :
CHAPTER XLII.

Carrie’s heart literally froze in her bosom—her lips seem-
ed paralysed—she could not speak or move, while in si-
lence those eyes peered down from among the branciies,
with all the terror of captivity fresh in her soul—know-
ing what fiends the :half-breeds were—she trembled
more with this unknown dread, than she had at all the
reat ills yet endured.

“The eyes—the eyes!’? at last she moaned out in a wail-
ing cry, and Helen close by her side woke up.
She too saw them, and she also trembied as she gasp-

    
   
 

  

     
 

ed: i

“What new evilis upon us? Speak ! tell me Carrie.”

“The eyes—the eyes |? gasped her sister. ’

The next instant both girls, screaming wildly sprang to
their feet, for a cry most unearthly sounded in tueir
ears. :

In a second, every ha:f-breed and almost all the cap-
tives were up, while from among the branches flew a
great number of frightened owls.

“What was the matter? Why did the Rose and the Lily
scream ?? asked Reshau. “Did the night-owls terrify
them?”

Carrie even in her captivity was ashamed to have been
so frightened at so small a cause, but she still trembled
with terror, though she made no reply.

“It is good! It is time we were all awake,” said
the nalf-breed. ‘*‘Wemust have food, for the wives of
brave men must be strong so they can carry big packs for
their husbands.”

Hie now gave orders to his followers, in the Indian ton-
gue, and they were seen to scatter off hastily in parties,
some of whom brought sticks ior fire which was kindled
inside the thicket, with small dry sticks, that sent upa
fierce hot flame with but little smoke.

In a little while, as day began to dawn, the sound of
two or three rifles reached the ears of the sisters, and the
eyes of Frankita brightened.

“Our friends are on our track!’’ she said in a low tone,

The half-breed saw her look and heard her words.

“The hunters have killed mountain sheep for us to eat.
They are the friends who have gladdened the ears of my
new wife’ he said, with a hateful smile on his tawny
face. ‘There is no track left in the mountain torrent—
no mark in the cave under the great waterfall—no sign
by which the pale-face can follow me.” ,

“Fool ! why are they on your track?’ said Helen, and
she pointed to a group of Indians straggling up the
mountain side.

John Reshau turned, and his face grew black with an-
ger, for Red Cloud and some thirty or forty of his men
were approaching the spot not as he came, but by an-
other route along the mountain side.

The great chief carried on his own shoulder the appar-
ently lifeless form of his son, the Little Rattlesnake. His
face had lost its ferocity, and as he appreached the group
of women lie laid the body of his son gently down and
said in a mournful tone:

“The heart of Red Cloud is heavy. His son—the pride
of his heart, is dead. He bore him away from the battle-
field and the pale-face may not have his scalp—but he is
dead and cannot fill the place of Red Cloud when the
Great Spirit calls him home,”

“He is not dead,” said Carrie. ‘‘See, his heart trembles
yet with life.”

And she pointed to an evident motion of the chest with
one hand, while she lifted a cup of water with the other;
and, herself raising the young Indian’s head, placed it to
his lips.

Red Cloud sprung forward, and Knelt on the ground by
the side of his son, and, as he saw the lips open to the
moisture of the cup. his eyes gleamed with a new fire.

“If the Lily can bring back the life of the Little Rattle-
snake to me, she shall never be sorry,’’ cried the great
chief. -

“Red Cloud may feel comfort.
Carrie, in a strong, hopeful tone.

And she poured the water between his lips, and bathed
his brow with her soft hand, while her sister and the other
women looked at her in wonder.

“Stand back—let the warriors stand back to give him
air,”? she said, with atone of authority.

And, strange as it would seem, they obeyed her.

“Why doyou dothis? If you bring him to life, it isonly
to be persecuted by him,’’ said Helen, ina low tone, to her
sister.

“No; his father is all powerful, and, if I make him our
friend, we may yet be saved,”’ said Carrie, quickly. “Seem
like me—anxious to bring back this life; aid me by chafing
his hands, and, if wedo no more, we delay worse horror
than death, until perhaps our friends may come.”

Helen now understood her sister’s plan, and, aided by
Frankita, chafed the hands of the unconscious son of Red
Cloud, while Carrie continued to moisten his lps and
bathe his head.

In a little while the young Indian sighed, opened his
eyes, which, dim from excessive weakness, yet beamed
out recognition of the face bending over his. f

“Let Red Cloud come near, and speak to hisson. Life

His son shall live,” said

 

 

 

 

 

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_ Ground of Thy lovel

 

Od

 

 

an

 

THE NEW YORK WEEKLY.

~
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Ss ge05

 

 

 

was almost gone, but it has come back to him,” said Car-
rie, looking at the great war chiet.

The latter came forward, met.the recognizing glance of
his son, and, looking first toward thesky, and then at
Carrie, said:

“Red Cloud’s soul goesup to his Father, the Great
Spirit, and thanks Him that he has yeta son. Red Cloud’s
heart goes out fo the Lily, and thanks her for her good-
ness. She has madea triend of Red Cloud,*and no one
Shall offer harm to her.’?

“The Lily believes in the words of Red Cloud, and she
Will trust to him that he will protect her and her friends,
The Great Spirit will smile on him while he does this—for
the Great Spirit, Master of Life, delights in all good
deeds,”?

“The voice of the Lily is soft, like the evening wind in
the pine branches,’”? whispered the wounded son of Red
Cloud. “It has called the Little Rattlesnake back from
the black lake of death. She is good to one who is bag,
and ‘whose hand is red with the blood of her race.”

“The young chief must not talk—heis very weak. Sleep
must visit his eyes, and, when he wakes, he shall haye
food prepared by my hand,’’ said Carrié.

The young Indian smiled and closed his eyes. The look
of his ferocity had also passed away.

But all this time John Reshau had-stood gazing on the
scene with a face growing. darker ‘and darker—eyes
brightening, too; and though the lightof the morning
Sun shone full upon him, his black passion made his face
purple only in its light.

“The Lily will warm the serpent, back to life, and it
Will sting her to death,” he muttered, at last.

“Better a serpent’s fang than the jaws of a wolf!’ she
cried,as her eyes flashed in his face.

“The wolf will crush serpent and Lily, too, in his
jaws!" said the half-breed, bitterly. “The wolf holds
the lamb at his mercy, and he will not spare it!?

Red Cloud; who had stood gazing at his son, while
the latter seemed to sink away in slumber, turned ashe
heard the half-breed lniss out these words—turned, and
While his face grew dark with anger, said:

“Hound of a white father anda red mother! man of
& mixed breed, with the good of neitherin your heart,

but the badness of both ! when Red Cloud lifts his arm

to protect the lamb, the wolf must stand back, or die!’

Reshau looked around. him. Lis half-breeds were not
all there, or out-numbering the red mem he would have
acted, not spoke. So he thought he would wait till they
came back from the hunt before he showed teeth he dared
not now try to use.

‘Red Cloud is not imhis right mind! The pale faces
drove him from the battle ground, and it has made his
brain wild. The half-breed would be foolish to get angry
at his words!’
nie oe chief dropped his hand to the tomahawk in
1is belt. 8

‘John Reshau turned like a coward from. the faces of
mien with rifies in their hands, and ran away with women
who. could not resist!’ he cried. ‘He ‘brought the
Women here—he shali carry them no further.’ Red Cloud
has spoken!”

The half-breed’s face grew whiter as the anger-blood
rushed down into his heart. His hand dropped on a pis-
tol in his belt, and a wild light flashed in his snake-like
eyes. Heesawseveral of his hunters returning with game,
and that now his numbers were equal to those of Red
Cloud—his men better armed.

“These women are the wives of my people, and neither
Red Cloud nor any of his braves shall lay claim to a sin-
gle one!” he cried. “The chief may go with his whipped
braves—John Reshau is able to take care of his own
prisoners!’?

Red Cloud had already drawn his tomahawk—twenty
of his warriors were moving up to his side, while the
half-breeds gathered around John Reshau. ;

Carrie at this ins: prung to her feet. A blessed
3 leaped her heart. She remembered at

t that her father and Little Buckshot
pse the day before.
of the sun—a dimness begin-
if Of the day told her it was at

 
 
 
 
  
     
   

 
 

i the Great Spirit!’ she cried.
i speak with the tongue of a
faisehood, the stn will roll on up
ellow gold the pale-face loves to
: uti, before the sun isthe hight of a
child fe Yup in the sky, dark night shall come

on us, and you shall all feel the chill of the Great
 Spirit’s frown! Look! look!”

Silent, appalled by her wild, tragic look, or the thought
fhat the Great Spirit whom every red man fears, was
speaking througii her tongue, the Indians and the half-
breeds, though ready for battle and with weapons raised,
drew back and turned their eyes toward the sun.

The shadow of the eclipse had struck its lower edge.
On—on it crept, and as it darkened line by line, the air
grew cold even as at night-fall.

The Indians and the half-breeds, awe-stricken, dropped
their armed hands. Carrie, raising her voice so that
ver word fell distinct on their ears, made this invoca-
tion:

“Great Spirit! Thou who dost walk upon the clouds—
Whose smile is life, and whose frown is death—hear Thy
daughter! Tell these red men—tell these men who are not
red, and yet are not white, that if they harm Thy daughter
or her friends, Thou wilt smite them blind with Thy wrath,
and in death forbid them approach to the Happy Hunting

Let this truth sink into their souls!
And when rey feel they will obey Tliee—tlien, and not
until then, will I ask Thee to take away the night of Thay
anger!”

Red Cloud, brave as the bravest, trembled. Reshau,
who, fiend as he was, had no cowardly blood in his black
veins, cowered in that awful darknéss,

“Will the great chief promise that the Prophet-daughter
of the Great Spirit shall. go free? Will the hal!-breed

 

. yield his captives up—or shall I pray the Great Spirit to

strike their enemies dead in the darkness!’’ she ex-
claimed. ; :

“The will of. the Great Spirit is seen and heard. I
Obey,’ said Red Cloud.

“And Z/" groaned the half-breed, whose superstitious
soul was full of a new alarm,

“Then jet all bat us women and the sick son of Red
Cloud fall back twenty steps and wait. The Prophet-
daughter will ask her Father to smile again,” ;

The Indians and half-breeds fell back as desired, and
Carrie again invoked the Great Spirit, for now the shadew
had begun indeed to from the sun. i

“Father of light, smile upon the promise that has been
given—on the lips which have spoken the promise.
Make the hearts of these braves trye to the words of their
lips, that strength may come back to them.”

Slowly the shadow passed, and light came in the place
of darkness. When the sun again shone out in all its

- glory, the Indians and the hall-breeds still remained at a

distance from the women, looking with reverence on her
who now seemed to them to be a Prophet-daughter of
the Great Spirit, indeed!

The natural phenomena so familiar to us, that its com-
ing can always be foretold, had been used to a good ad-
vantage by the brave and thoughtful girl. Fora time at
least, she and those with her were safe from the peril
and horror which had hung so dark about them,

“Let the braves prepare food, eat and be strong. The
Prophet-daughter has spoken!” cried Carrie.

And liké slaves, humble and obedient, those warriors
bent to her wiil.

CHAPTER XLIY.

The parties which left the Stone Fort to follow up the
Indians and half-breeds, and to rescue, if possible, the
helpiess girls from their hands, led by men almost equal-
ly competent to follow a trail, took courses but little
apart and tending, like the tracks of the fugitives, nearly
in the same direction.

Antoine Ladue, from his long experience as a trapper,
knew every mountain gorge and stream—‘-Little Buck-
shot,’ though perhaps less cognizant of Iccalities, knew
the general range, while big Beaver, all Indian, was like
a hound with its nose to the ground on the trail.

Yet of all the parties, Little Buckshot led ‘his men by
the most difficult route, for ke struck for the very crest oi
the mountain range. His reason Was this: .From the
elevation he could see not only the others im pursuit, but
be more apt to catch sight of the fugitives, and then judg-
ing where he could best do it, strive to intercept them.

Night found him away up in the chilliest regions of the
hills, and as all had left in the lightest marching order,
blankets would have brought a high price had they been
within reach. But they were not, and though fuel was
plenty, to have lighted fires would have been folly, for ex-
hibiting their position, they would have defeated the ob-
ject of the march.

A long, cold, wretched night it was on the mountain-
top, but like all long, wretched nights, it passed at last,
and the men, revived with a bite from their haversacks
and a drink from the mountain rills, pushed on after the
lively little scout, who felt confident that the day would
bring results with it to please them and him.

*] feel luck in my bones!”’ said he to Captain Bates.
“J feel as if that hound of a half-breed, John Reshau, was
where I could lay my hand right on him. He has got my
pet, my good ‘Spitfire,’ but I'll have it back by sunset—I
know I willl”

The men kept on through the thickets of cedar and
Stunted pine, over the great rocks and broken gorges for
some hours, and then the chill and the darkness of the
eclipse Came upon them.

To them it was no surprise, for its date of coming was
known to all, but they halted until it was over.

Then Little Buckshot, who had reached an isolated
pinnacle, waved his hat with a gesture of triumpli, and
hurried down to join Captain Bates.

._ “We're close on to some of em, though I didn’t see any
‘but our own folks!” he said, as soon as he was by the

“captain's side. ‘Big Beaver is moving like a hound along
‘the hills about a mile below us—he is sure on a track—
and, coming right up a stream, a little below him, is An-
toine Ladue, with lis party. They two are centering, and
both head up toward us.’

“Then the game must be near,’ said the captain. ‘We

aust move with extra caution.’

The scout was about to answer, whena deep, sharp,
booming sound rolled over the great hills.

“A cannon ?’ cried Captain Bates, as he looked around.

“The cannon of the Great Spirit!’ said the scout, as
he glanced to the north-west. ‘We're going to have
what I don’t like up in these regions, one of the thunder-
squalls that sometimes play hob with parties in. the hills.
We've got to catch a soaking, ifmothing more. Just look
at those clouds and see if they don’t come at a gallop.”

The captain glanced away to where the scout’s hand
pointed, and saw that the whole sky was black with
clouds rising fast over the hills. Though not a leaf stirred
where they were, the clouds seemed borne on the breath
of a terrible gale—on, On they came so fast.

And as they swept on their inky blackness was riven
here and there by zig-zag streaks of red lightning, while

the mountains fairly shook with the shocks of reverber-

ating thunder.

On—on swept the storm, the men pressing forward as
fast as they covld, for the scout heped to find some shel-
ter, but none was obtained.

Indeed when the rain poured down at last in wild tor-
rents, they were on an almost open rocky piain—only a
partial shelter from the wind being obtained by a cliff to
their right, while below the mountain was almust per-
pendicular, } Y

Na@er had the scout or any with him seen it rain so
hard, at least they thought so. It did not drop, or even
shower—it came down in continued torrents.

The men cowered down, shivering and chilled through,
keeping close huddled together, fearful to move least
some of the mountain torrents roaring on every side
should overwhelm them, It was a fearful place, and a
terrible hour. , be ;

But even swiftly as it had come if passed away, and
once more the sun shone out in all its living glory ina
half hour more. ,

But the whole mountain was now full of wid torrents,
tearing down its sides with fearfal force. It was impos-
sible forthe party to move che way or anopher while the
floods continued.

‘Heaven help the poor fellows below, if they’ve not
found as good @ spot as we to halt on!’ said the
scout. ‘For I tell you what it is, cap’n, this flood out-
Noah’s old Noah’s time, and you'd think so if you was in
a wet place!’ ran :

“1 think this is rather a moist spot !’’ said the captain,
shivering. ;

“Itis dry as an oven compared to down below thiere.
Bat [ must take a peep below and see what I can!”

The scout crept forward toa small tree hanging over
the edge of the steep, and steading himself by its trunk,
peered. down amidst the mist. below.

He looked long. and steadily, and no one watching him,
as he stood there so quiet and calm, would have thonght
his eye rested on anything calculated to interest, much
less excite him.

For full a half hour, without changing his position or
moving hand or foot, he remained there, and then drop-
ping to the earth, he crept back as noiselessiy as a snake
could have done.

“They’re there—they’re there, the whole caboodle of
‘em !? he said to Captain Bates, in a. low tone, as he’
reached his side.

“Who do you mean, and where are they ?’? asked the
captain, imitating the example of. the scout in the low
tone of his inquiry.

“The women, the half-breeds, and even old Red Cloud
himself,” said the scout. .‘‘They’re on a shelf in the
mountain, about three or four hundred yards below us.
IL. can’t see any sign of Antoine Ladue and his men, so I’m
afraid they’ve been washed out. ~ But I think I got a
glimpse of Big Beaver and _his party; but there is a wide
stream between liim and them that he is tracking.”

“Can, we get down to the place where the women
are ??

‘Not now; but they are in rifle range, and if the say-
‘ages Who hold them offer tlie least wrong or insult we can
open a fire which will put an end'to that deviltry. But
we must not show ourselves till we have to doit, for as
soon as the water falls a little, Big Beaver will close from
below, and by that time we can move from above.. The
women are all close together, and seem quiet, and even
cheerful, waich 1 can’t account for, only in ths way.
Women are so unlike menin their natures that no man
can read ’em. At least I can’t, and I can read a map,
red, White or black, the minute I seteyes on him. But
you stay here, Cup’n—keep your men Still, and I’ll creep
forward again and watch the way things go below.”

The scout now. crept back to his old position, only this
time raising up, by the side of the trunk of the treesothat
he could look down from amid its branclies while his
pay was so close to the tree it could not be distinguished
rom if. ret

Anxiously Captain Bates kept his eye on him, thinking
to detect by his looks some sign of what was going on
below. Little Buckshot seemed more earnest in his gaze,
for after remaining still in his first position a little while,
he drew himself into the tree and bent forward so as to
look more distinctly from the leafy screen.

At that second a cry of alarm fromthe captain's lips
reached his ear, for the officer had noticed the inclination
of the tree even quicker than he; but cry and caution
came too late—the treacherous brink had caved or crum-
bled away, and a groan of. horror burst from the lips of
Captain Bates as he saw scout, tree and all yanish from
his sight.

He was for an instantalmost palsied by his feelings,
scarcely knowing what to do; then, bidding his men re-
tain their positions, he. carefully crept toward the brink
of the precipice himself to see if he could learnthe fate of
the too-venturesome guide, ;

It was a perilous attempt, for the whole ground, satu-
rated with water, seemed tremble, while the roaring tor-’
rents thundered down the adjacent gorges, but at last he
reached che brink and looked down,

 

CHAPTER XLY.

As he peered over the verge of the precipice, Captain
Bates saw the nob:e little scout, apparently lifeless, drawn
out from amid a mass of rocks and rubbish, which had
accompanied him in his fearful descent, by the hands of
two or three Indians, while the women hastened to as-
sist him.

At the moment when they, appearing to recognize him,
began to take measures to restore him to consciousness,
a wild, fierce yell broke from the lips of John Reshan,
and, with a bound, he stood by the side of his old enemy,
whom he had that instant recognized.

An uplifted knife in his right hand told his intention
to at once end the life he so feared—so hated. But, be-
fore his arm could descend, it was seized with frantic
strength by Frankita, and the next second, while he hurl-
ed her back from between him and fis enemy, Red Cloud
himself was seen to interfere.

The captain, fearfully excited, forgot. all caution, and
calling to. a man to hand jim arifle, attracted the atten-
tion of all below, and, in instant, bullets and arows
were winging their way up from below.

“Take cover, men, here on tue edge,’’ shouted the cap-
tain, ‘‘and watch your chance—careful not td hit @ wo-
man or our brave little scout |’? ~ : Ys ey

Red Cloud, who had responded to Carrie’s cry to save
Little Bi mC from death, glancing up, and seeim the
soldiers lining the mountain top, at once raised hig war-
cry, and while the women huddled around the cout,
who, only stunned, began to show signs of returnin® life;
both half-breeds and red men opened fire, at great @isad-
ranger those who were under better cover than they
could fin ;

The soldiers how began to send in a telling fire, for
man after man fell below, when both Reshau and Red
Cloud thought of a protective expedient.

They rushed with their warriors up to the spot where
the women were congregated, and forced them to so min-
gle in their ranks, that one could ot be fired on without
endangering the other. ;

Of course, this brought a cessation of fire, and the next
idea of both Indian and half-breed leaders, was to effect
a retreat from their position with the captives as a
shield. ii ; 4

The torrents were rapidly falling away and losing pow-
er; soon they would be able to leave their position; but
another obstacle now appeared. Big Beaver and the par-
ty under his guidance showed. themselves. below them.
Red Cloud and his warriors felt that their hour had come,
for ne thought of surrender, for,ah instant, entered their
minds. ;

But John Reshan had another plan... His eye had been
measuring the depth and force of the stream below the
great waterfall, and he knew, or at least thought, his re-
treat through the subterranean passage by which they
came, yet possible.

“We will keep the women for shields, and go back as
we came,” he said to Red Cloud. “You would not let
me kill my enemy, but 1 forgive you, for he is saved for
the torture. Let us mow go back.” :

And he clasped Frankita with lis left arm, while he
brandished his rifle in his right hand, as he turned to-
ward the trail which led to the cavern recesses under
the waterfall. ’

“Walt, devil!, There is one man in the mountains who
knows as much as you; and J am he!’

It was Antoine Ladrue who spoke, and with full thirty
men he appeared in their only path of retreat. He had
entered the waterfall cavern before the storm came on,
and was now ready for battle—so ready that the women
alone shielded the. enemy from his fire.

“We halt; but if we die, we will not die alone. This
girl, and all the pale-faced Women shall die at the first
shot flred,’? cried the. half-breed.

Red Cloud, who, for an instant, was completely sur-
prised, nodded his assent, and every female was held in
an instant, with a knife Over her unshielded bosom.

Even Little Buckshot, helpless as he was, was firmly
held by a warrior—a word, a single shot, would have been
the sign of doom for them all.

The situation wes too exciting, too painful, to last long
withont change. Captain Bates and his men were rap-
idly descending a ravine, which led to the shelf on which
captives and captors stood, Big Beaver was crossing ile
head of the stream which, had Kept him back. The In-
dians and half-breeds were completely surrounded.

Yet, holding those precious lives for a defense, they
were safe, at least, to parley.

“Halt, you!’ reptied the half-breed to Antoine Ladue,
asecond time. ‘Halt all, or, slaying first these women,
we will die as men love to die—with arms in our hands
and revenge on our lips! Halt all, or, at a word, each
captive dies!”

They could but halt, for. there was no mistaking that
the deed would quickly follow the word.

“Let every man of us go free—go with our arms In our
hands, and we will yield our prisoners back safe to you!’
cried Reshau. ‘Refuse, and fight quick as you please.
We are ready !’?

“Yes,” said Red Cloud; ‘“‘the braves. who follow Red
Cloud wiil live or die, as their chief directs, The words
of the half-breed are-my words also.”’

“What shall I do, cap’n, what shall I do? Savethe
women and let the cusses go ?’’ cried Antoine to Captain
Bates, who was now so near he could hear all.

“Yes—for Heaven’s sake, yes!’ said the captain. ‘‘Any-
thing to save the helpless from impending death. Let
them pass you if they can.”

Antoine drew his men to one side, and bade Red Cloud
and his warriors pass. To Reshau, while he gave the
same permission, he added:

“When we meet again, mongrel, itis yow orZ. Ican
forgive a red for being cruel, false, and treacherons, for
itis his nature. But you, whose father was as white as
mine, know better. Go—but you and I will meet again.”

“Yes—sooner than you think, John Reshau has friends
as plenty as buffalo onthe great grass plains, and they

 

 

are not faraway. Antoine Ladue will never see the face

a
ss

ese re soma 2
Et

 

of his white wife—he will never carry his furs to the set-
tlements.’?

The half-breed passed on, as he said these words, and
novuntil he was gone did the trapper fully conceive his
meaning.

‘Then, glancing away !o the eastward, he saw the smoke
of a large encampment, evideatly not made by any of the
Indians, Who huu been hitherty engag:u with them in
battle. :

“No matter,” he muttered, as he turned toward the
rescued women, “10 matter. Our united ferce can whip
a thousand @asy, arid it is not far to the forts.”

Captain Bates was now down, Big Beaver and his par-
ty across to the shelf, andina few minutes Captain Guy
held his daughters by the hand, while Harvey Wood and
Omer Champlain at last were face to face with those they
loved so dearly. .

Frankita, with the head of the scoutin her lap, was
bathing his bruised head and wounded face, while he was
looking up thankfully in her earnest, beautiful face,

“You're a good gal, and I’mthankful you're safe,
though I don’t exactly see how it has all come around,"
he said, in-a low tone, ‘All I remember was an almighty
fast coming down for me, and some of the biggest kind
of stars before my eyes.” : 0

“Jt was terrible, but you live, said Frankita. “You
live, and I ae re as

“I'm glad myself, for I thought Pa about gone in,” said
the scout, “and things look lively all around.” :

It was indeed a pleasant tableau—those women one
more side by side with tneir loved ones—all tite parties
safe from tempest and irom the dangers of battle, at
least for the time. Hoy a

‘‘We must not delay here!’ said Antoine Ladue, as he
saw the half-breeds and Indians filing away through the
woods below. “Red Cloud and John Reshau will join
forces with others soon, and give us more trouble. Tne
sooner we are back to the Stone Fort the better!”

“True—no time must be lost. you the way, and
we will follow!” said Captain Bates, who had just been
examining the condition of the scout, who, though ‘badly
bruised, was still able to move, with assistance. ~ We
will have all we can do to get back before another night's
darkness is on us.”? ‘be

(To be continued.) ;

Two New Srorms Nexr Wxrx.—In the Next Number of thé
New York Wrerxkty two New Stories’ will be commenced—one
by ANNiz AsHmorE, entitled, “THe Dramonp Cotrar; or, THE
BisHop’s Desr;” and another charming Story of English Socie-
ty, Which will be especially pleasing to our lady readers.

Leighton Homestead;

oR,

EDNA’S DEBT
’ 3
; ee ; ,
AND. HOW SHE PAID IT.
BY MRS. MARY J, HOLMES,

Author of “Marian Grey,’ “Hugh Worthington,’ “Rose Ma
ther,” “Darkness and Daylight,” “Lena Rivers,” “Home-
stead on the Hillside,” *fempest and Sunshine,” “Cousin
Maude,"’ “Ethelyn's Mistake,’ “Cameron Pride,” “Meadow
Brook,” “English Orphans,” ‘“‘Dora Deane,” ete., ete.

CHAPTER XXXILU.—{(CONTINUED.)

“The dead, Jack; the dead,” and Georgie’s face was
like the face of a corpse, and her voice was. husky and
thick. “Thatcannotbe. Isawhimin the coftin; Iknow
just where he lies in Greenwood.”

“I was not thinking of him, but of the other one; of
Henry; you did not see him in his coffin. You don’t know
where his grave is.” |

‘No, no; but Jack, there can be no doubt.. You made
so sure yourself. You told me he was dead. ‘Oh, was it
alla farce? Oh, Jack, do you know anything ”

She was kneeling tohim now, with her proud head
bent to his very feet, just as once she had cronehed years
ago when he was but a boy, asit were, and she a
wretched woman sueing for pity and begging him to
stand by her in her need. Then her long glossy curls had
swept the floor just as they swept it now, and Jack had
lifted herup, and comforted her, and sworn to be her
friend, and he wanted to doit again, though his heart
was harder toward her now than it had been then, He
could more readily forgive the sin committed through
great temptation whenshe was young and withouta
counsellor, than he could forgive the many years during
which she had lived alie. Still he pitied her so much,
and loyed her so much, for she was his sister, and her
great beauty had ‘always exercised a wonderful power
over him. He felt iteven now as: she lifted her white,
tear-stained face to his, andashehad done that other
time in the darkest hour she had ever met, so he did
now; he stooped and raised her up, and tried to comfort
her, and said that he “knew nothing and. had heard
nothing, only Such things sometimes did happen, and it
would be very awkward, for her, as Roy’s wife, to. be
some day

 

 

 

cdnfronted byfienry Marton.’? 5 ire

“Don’t, don’t speak his name,” she almost shrieked,
while a shudder like a convulsion shook her frame. ‘I
have been greatly to blame, but my punishment has beer?
terrible. I have sunégred untold» agony in thinking
of the past. ‘I'sarely uve atonedyand now if therpisa
haven of. rest for on’t try tokeep me fromit by
harrowing up my fearst endow le is dead. ‘bam sure
of it, and Imean to beg wife to Roy. Hé never
shall repent his secwke bonexs Vl bring every thought
and feeling into conformity with lis, see if I don’t; and
Jack, you must help me to. be good; must Stand by me as
a brother. Will you, Jack? “As Roy's wife, with some-
thing of my own, F-can help youso much, and I will.
Annie shall no longer be an expense to you. I will sup-
port her entirely.” eae oe

“And not let Roy know you are doing 112” Jack an-
swered, and Georgie replied: /

“J will tell him that, at least. Iwill not cheat him
there. I'll arrange it before we are married, that lam
to do something for Annie, and perhaps when he sees
how I care for her he will propose that she live with us.
Oh, if lie only would.” '

Jack felt that on this point, at least, Georgie was sin-
cere, She did love the little Annie, and his heart softened
stili more toward h j and when, as she wag about to
; ppleringly, “‘Kiss_me, Jack, once,
s put his arm around her, and kiss-

lips, wliich quivered with emotion, while
the tears fell like rain upon her cheeks.

Niet lige a good brother, and I will try to be good, too,
for your sake and Roy's,” she said, as she bade him good-
night, and left the room.

‘He had not congratulated her, but she knew he would
keep silent; knew, - that she had comparatively noth-
ing to fear from Maude; and but for one harrowing fear,
which yet was not exactly a fear, she would have felt tol-
erably composed and happy, as slie sought her own
chamber ;

Jack’s words, ‘‘What if, the dead should come back to
witness against you ?’ rang in her ears, and when, as she
stood by the window, looking out into the moonlight, a
shadow flitted across the grass, she trembled from head to
foot, and turned sick with nervous dread. Bat it was on-
ly the watch-dog, Brano, anc as he bounded out into the
iight, she grew quiet, and even smiled at her own weak-
ness. ° Sil
“That cannot be,’ she said; and then, as if to make
assurance doubly sure, she opened a trunk which always
stood in her closet, and taking from it a box, touched a
secret spring, and soon held in her hand three docu-
ments—oné, a newspaper, soiled and yellow with time,
ana containing a paragraph which said that a certain
Henry Marton, Who had managed to escape from justice,
had recently died ina little ont-of-the-way village among
the Alleghanies, and that his friends, if he had any, could
learn the particulars of his. death, by inquiring at the
place where he died, The other two were letters, one
from the dying man himseif, who wrote that, from the
very nature of his disease, he had but a day or two to
live; and one from Jack, who had, gone to that out-of-the-
way place, among the Pennsylvania hills, and learned
that it was really true, that Henry Marton had died there
at such a time, and then had written the same to his anx-
ious sister at home. She had kept these papers carefully,
and guarded them from every eye but her own, and oc¢-
casionally she read them over to assure herself of the
truth. But now she would keep them no longer, lest in
some way they should come to light; and So, holding
them to the gas and then throwing them upon theliearth,
she watched them as they crisped and blackened, and
turned to a pile of ashes.

There was nothing now in her way, and, as was her
constant habit, the woman who had sinned so greatly,
but who was going to do better, knelt down and said her
prayers, and thanked God for Roy, and asked, first, that
he might never know what she had been; and, second,

 

 
 
  

 

e

f she is very young, I wonder, by the way, how oid Geor-

48 she has only been out of school four or five years; and

that she might be to him all that a good, true wife should
be, and that he might ve willing for Annie to live with
her. , This done, she felt a great deal better; felt as if she
really were a very good woman, and that but for Jack,
who had such straight-laced notions, she would be con-
firmed, by way of helping her to keep her resolution !
CHAPTER XXXIV.
HOW THEY GOT ON AT LEIGHTON,

Roy’s first thought on waking the next morning, was
to wonder what liad iappened that he should feel so op-
pressed, as ifa load were bearing him down. Then it
came to him that he was engaged, and he wondered why
that should affect his spirits, as it certainly did.

All the excitement of the previous night was gone, and
he could reason clearly now, and remember how queerly
Georgie had talked and acted at first, just as if she had
done some horrible deed, which, if she should confess it,
would prove a barrier between them. But she had not
confessed, and she lad recovered her usual composure,
had accepted him, and was going to be his wife, some-
time, he hardly knew when, though he had a vague idea
that there need be no undue haste, He had done his duty
in asking her, aud surely Mr. Burton would, not urge an
immediate marriage, neither would Georgie desire it;
girls never did, and having tixed the blissful day at, some
period farinthe future, Roy gave a relieved yawn and
went on with his toilet, quickening his movements a littic
when he saw from his window the. flutter of a white
dress, and knew that Miss Overton was already in the
grounds.

. “She is an early riser, and it must be that which makes
her look so fresh, and bright, and young, though of course

gie is. Inever heard@any one hazard a conjecture. Some-
times she looks all of twenty-eight, thougl that can’t Le,

even if sheis, I am thirty myself, and two years diffet-
ence is: enough, provided the husband has the advah-
tage. Georgie will never look old with those eyes and
that. hair.’

_ Roy was dressed by this time, having- made a more care-
fal toilet than usual witha view to the call he was to
make on his fiancée after breakfast he would have said, if
questioned, but really with a view to joining Miss Over-

ing there as she had done, she could never confess who
she really was, and so she must go away forever, and
never see them again, nor Charlie’s grave. She tried to
believe it was this last which made Leighton Place so de-
lightful, though she knew in her heart that she was hap-
pier than she would have been had that grave never been
made, and called herselfa monster for it, and cried all
the harder until she heard Mrs. Ciiurchill coming up the
stairs and knew her services would be needed. Remem-
bering what had been said of her as Miss Overton, there
Was an added tendermess and gentleness in her voice and
in her manner as she read the evening chapter to the
half-blind woman, and then helped to disrobe her. To
brush and smooth Mrs. Cuurchill’s hair was one of her
nightly duties, and her soft fingers moved caressingly
over the thin locks and about the forehead until the lady
declared herself absolutely mesmerized, and drawing
Edna’s face down to her lips, kissed her affectionately,
saying as she did so:
“Excuse the liberty, if it is ene, but you seem more like
a @ogiter than astranger, and Miss Overton, you know
of course 1am to have a daughter by-and-by, Georgie,
Miss Barton; she is to be Mrs. Roy Leighton, and I am
glad, and think my son could not have chosen better, cr
as well, perhaps—but—but—I waut you to stay just the
same, even if Edna, that. is, Mrs. Charlie Churchill, comes
too, as Roy means to have her, Will you, Miss Overton 2’?
“You may get tired of me by that time and glad to have
me leaye,’? Edna replied, evasively, making some excuse
to leave the room, and staying away so long that the con-
versation was not resumed when she returned again,
bringing the medicine which Mrs, Churchill always ke
standing by her bed at night. i
Edna had not counted upon all the unpleasant things
to which the peculiarity of her position would subject her,
She had no idea that she should so often hear herself dig-
cussed, or be compelled to feel so continually that she
was living afd acting a lie, or she would never have bee
there as she was, and that night after leaving Mrs.
Churchill she began a letter to Aunt Jerry, asking if she
had not better leaveat once, before she became wholly
hardened deception. ry '
(To be Continued).

Two New Srorrrs Next Werx.—In the Next Number of “the
New York WEEK Ly two New Stories will be commesced—one

4

 

tonin her morning walk.

He found her in a little arbor, looking pale and tired,
as ifshe had not slept, but she smiled brightly as he came
up, aad made some remark about the pleasant morning.
Iie wanted her to talk of Georgie—wanted to be reassured
that lié had done well for himself; but as nothing had
been said to her on the subject, she did not feel at liberty
to introduce it, and so the conversation drifted as’far as
possible from Miss Burton and reached at last to *‘Edna,
my sister,’? whom Rey hoped eventually to have at Leigh-
ton, 4

“She will come, of course, when I'am married,’ he
said. ‘She can then have no excuse for not coming.”’

“Perhaps your wife would not like her,’? Edna suggest-
ed, and Roy replied:

‘7 am sure she will. , Georgie is not hard to please, and
from Edna's letters I judge her to be a very ‘bright,
sprightly little body. There’s a good deal of mischief
about her, I guess. I saw her once in the cars with some
of her schoolmates. I had been very sick and was still
an invalid, nervous and irritable, and afraid of the least
breath of air. Girl-like, they opened all the windows near
them, and mother got a cinder in her eye, and I began to
sneeze, and at last asked the sauciest looking one toshut
the window, not pleasantly, you know, but savagely, as
if I were the oniy person to be considered in the car. She
did shut it with a bang, and then avenged herself by
making a Caricature of me shivering in a poke-bonnet
and called mea Miss Betty."

“How did you know that?’ Edna asked, looking up
with so much Surprise as almost to betray herself.

She had not thought of that sketch since the day when
it was made, and she was curious to hear how Roy came
to know about it.

 

 

“She dropped it as she left the car, either purposely or
accidentally, and mother picked it up,’”? Roy said. ‘I
have it still, and if lever see her and come to know her
well I mean to show it to her and have some fun with it,”
he continued, while Edna asked, a little uneasily:
“Then you were not angry with her for her imperti-
nence?? — Beets 1
“Yes, I was at the time, very angry, and wanted to box
her ears; but that only lasted a little time, and I was glad

 

 

’ Roy, Idon’t know how she will wear; but I should not

to see myself as others saw me. I do believe it did me
good. She must be. something of an artist, for even as a
caricature the picture was a good one. I wish I knew
where she was. I must write to-day, and tell her of my
engagement.”’ ;

He was trying to introduce that subject again, but Ed-
na made no reply. His mention of the picture lad sent
her off on an entirely different train of thought, and she
was glad that just then the breakfast bell rang, and
brought their walk to an end.

_ Roy spent the most of the day at Oakwood, but he was
home at dinner, and passed the evening there, and Edna
heard him talking with his mother about his engagement,
and asking if she were glad.

“Yes, very glad,’? was the reply; “though it does not
matter quite so much now as it did before Miss Overton
came. Iam getting really attached to her, she seems so
pleasant and refined, and knows what I want before I tell
her. She is a very superior person, I think, and must
have been’ well brought up.’’

Edna thought of the ‘louse by the graveyard, and of
Aunt Jerry, and wondered what the fastidious Mrs.
Churchill would say, could she know just where and by
whom she had been brought up. Mrs. Churchill did
nothing by the halves; she liked or disliked thoroughly,
and, as she had conceived a great liking for her little
companion, she was more inclined to talk ‘of her than of
Georgie, though she did ask when the marriage was to
‘be consummated. NG ' ;

“Whenever it suits Georgie,” Roy replied. “For my-
self, I am in no haste, and should prefer waiting until
next spring. We are very comfertable now, and Miss
Overton’s presence precludes the necessity of having
some one for company.’

He did not seem to be a very ardent lover, impatient for
the happy day; and, indeed, he was not, and much of
his indifference was owing to Miss Overton, who expe-
rienced a feeling of relief In knowing that Roy would
probably not bring his wife home until spring, She could
not live with Georgie; she had. decided that point at
once, and that lady’s arrival as mistress would be the
signal for her departure, So She hailed with delight any-
thing which would put off the evil day; for, short as had
been her stay at Leighton, she was very hdppy there,
and would have found it hard to leave it, with all its re-
finement, and luxury, and ease, to say nothing of Roy,
and go baék to her old life again as teacher of a promis-
cuous crowd of children. She did not mean to be a lis-
tener to any private conversation between Roy and his
mother, but, situated just as ‘she was, on the piazza and
directly under the window where ‘chey were sitting, ‘shié
could. not well ‘help herself, and so she sat still, while
their talk turned next upon herself ds Edna, whom Roy
meant to have at Leighton as soon as Georgie came.

“I’ve never felt right about it at all," he said. “Poor
little thing, knocking about the world alone, trying te
pay a debt she foolishly, thinks she owes me; and 1 am’
determined to find her at some rate, if I put the police on
her track. Wouldn’t you like to have her here when
Georgie comes 2 . ee

Mrs. Churchitl hesitated a little; and then replied:

“Wouldn’t tree ladies be in each other's ‘way? for,

 

like to have Miss Overton leave even when Georgie
comes.” mir arg SAO :
‘Nor I, nor I,’ Roy said, quickly, decidedly, with a feel-
ing that he should greatly miss the little gtrl.who could
hear no more lest her feelings should betray themselves,
and who, crawling upon her hands and feet, crept away
from the window and sought her own room, ‘where she
was free to indulge in a hearty fit of tears,
‘Why she cried she hardly knew herself, certainly not
for Roy, as she believed, though there was a very sore
spot in her heart when she remembered that Georgie was
to be his wife. She was crying, she thought, for the

 

‘few weeks...... c
of mutton suets, but is sometimes made of lard

-orfour hours. They must be taken out often to cool

by ANNIE ASHMORE, entitled, “THe Diamonp Cotiar; or, THE

BrsHop’s Dest;’’ and another charming Story of English Socie-

ty, which will be especially pleasing to our lady readers.
—_-—— > o9~

Our Knowledge Box.
A FEW PARAGRAPHS WORTH REMEMBERING.

QUESTIONS ANSWERED AND INFORMATION WANTED.—
Amandus.—To Kitz Motus.—The surest remedy isto bake the
article infected in anoveu at a temperature below that whic
would scorch them...... Andy B. Z.—See No. 35 : uty .—l.
Clean your teeth with soap alter every meal. 2. Trim your hair
frequently. 3. To destroy fleas on dogs wash with infusion of
cocculus indicus, or with coal oil, and then with soap and warm

 

 

water. (4; No......2. K. ats e dentrifice for the tceth—
thatis, to preserve them—i honey soap. If you wish to
whiter them use pulverized Charcoal about once a werk, but be

sure torinse the mouth thoreuguly atterward. Sone persons
prefer prepared chalk perfu with a littie orris root........
I quisitive.—P lease name the beers you wish recipes tor..... ....
F. D. M.—To Coror Furs Buack or Brown.—Take ten grains
gallie acid, ten of tincture ofiron, and one ounce of acetic acid.
Dissolve the galli¢ acid in the tincture of iroh, and add the acetic
acid, and apply with a fine comb. If black is desired, the turs
must be moist—not wet; bulift brown, the fur must be dr
Constant Reader, Torpedo and F. G. Simpsone—-We cannot

“tor pesivg colored lights for illuminating.” 2. The lady should
bow first. 3, To Make Ick Cream, take one gallon ot cream,
uvo pounds of rolled loaf sugar, one teaspoontul of oil of lemon.
If for vanilla cream, two eggs beaten, and one and a half table-
spoonfuls of tincture of vanilia should be used. Mix well and
freeze in the usual way. The vanillaor lemon should be weil

CucuMBERS Wipe them clean and Jay them into stone jars. Al-
low one quart of Coarse salt to a pail of Water; boil tlié salt and
water tili the salt is dissolved; turn it boiling hot on the cucum-
bers; cover them up lightand let
Turnthem into a basket to drain. Boil as much ofthe best ci-
der vinegar as will cover the cucumbers; wush out bane
putthe cucumbers into them. Turn the vinegar on boiling hot;
cover them with cabbage leaves and cover the jarsiight. In
forty-eight hours they will be fittor use. Io PickLE Tomaroxs.
—Slice say a peck of them; take] galionef vinegar, 2 table-
spoonfals of cloves, and 2 of allspice, mix
together; then throw in the tomatoes, an
boil, and they are fit for use. 3. Your handwriting is good. :....
Knouledge Seeker.—To Make BLacking.—Oil of vitriol in black-
ing promotes the shining and drying. Itis not injurious m small
quantities—still it is unnecessary. Blacking will always dr
well if made with vinegar, and shine well if sugar-candy is
substituted. for sugar. The toilowing is a good recipe for black-
ing without oil of vitriol: Ivory black, ground fine, four ounces;
treacle, two ounces; vinegar, three-quarters of a pint; sperma-
ceti oil, a teaspoonful. Mix the orl with the blacking first, then
add the treacle; lastly the -vinegar......D°Arq.—1, Lemon
juice: 2. Use the following gargle, which 1s Inghly recom-
roses, Six ounces; powdered borax. oné@.ounce; honey of roses,
two ounces. Mix. 3. Stick to the farm. Your handwriting is
er an Snovkes.—CURE FOR SNAKE Brres.—Take of bromine,
21-2 drachms; iodide of potassium, }wo grains; Corrosive subli-
mate, one grain; diluted alcohol, thirty fluid. drachms.
repeated as required ay the Case......A Cons der.—
CLEAN Sitver.—if the silver is very dirty, use lot water, fol-
lowed by a solation of equal parts of spirit of ammonia and
spirit of turpentine; and after this, if necessary, prepared
chalk, or wuts oe magnesia—whiting is commonly used. ..,.
Frank Puinam.—Wrile to the American News eee in this
eee c sss John Tumalty.—Chewing tofiacco is a filthy habit.......
Little Buckshot.—1. See No, 27. 2. Wedo not know it. 3. Ina
@, W. G.—Stick Pomatvm is generally composed
‘ body, towhich is
added, in summer, one ounce of wax for every pound of body.
Always melt the least fusible body first, Im molding (sheet irdn
molds are generally used) fe Must be taken not to run the
pomade when too hot, as cavities will occur in the center, ren-
dering the sticks liable to break. Another method of preparing

the pomade is by melting two parts of tallow and: one part of
wax in mold, the size desired for the stick, the mass having

been perfumed with bergamot, or colored with another saffron.
> ht Le Ramp Hon a B.—W ATERPROOFING CLOTH.
ead,

tee

—Take | Ib. sugar . alum, pound separately, and mix in
a.basin, and Dee pour 2 quarts ot boning water on the mixture ;
let itstand 6 hours, and then bottle off for use. Apply to the
cloth with a sponge or soft brush on a table till weil oa rated,

 

and then iron it over and hangup to dry......Azbany.—To Pre-
VENT Ink FROM GerTING Monpy.—three or four drops of creosote
ila pint of ink will pare itfrom becoming moluy............
c. E, M.—Buy a book. which, I

probably find a cheap edition at the e
Company, in this city...:..Melrose.—The a is too delicate an
organ to be trified wi Consult an experienced oculist. Your —
handwriting can be greatly improved. Practice daily... ..., Ee
A. B. Try coddiver oil. 2. See No. 30...... Jefushe Pepper.
—To Restore Lace.—Lace may be restored to its original —
whiteness by first ironing itsligh
itinto a clean linen bag which is placed for twenty-four hours —
‘in far olive oil. Afterward the bag is boiled in a solution of
soap and water for fifteen minutes, then well rinsed in luke-
warm water, and finally dipped in water containing,a slight
proportion of starch. The lace is then taken from the bag, and
stretched.on-pins to dry«...-. Carrie.—l. Rise early, take plenty
of out-door exercise dur_ng the day, and retire to bed soon after
alightteas Follow this advice awhile, and the natural bloom
of youth will once more mantle your cheeks. 2. Wash your
hands in lemon juice....... «Juda.—To Make Common So_pER.—
Put into a crucible two pounds of lead, and, when melted. throw
in one pound of tin. When heated by a hot iron and applied to
tinned iron with powdered rosin, it acts as a cement or solder;
it is also used to join leaden pipes, etc. To make HARD SOLDER,
melt together tivo pounds of copper and one pound of tin. To
make SOFT SOLDER, melt together two pounds of tin and one of
lead. The Jining of tea chests makes a good solder for tinware,
being made of tin-and lead.in about the proper proportions. ....
EF. S. E.—1..Take half 4 teaspoontul of bi-carbonate of soda in a
third of a tumbker of Water three times a day. 2. See No. 35.
ssa. A. T. W.—See No.’-31..../.Gumption—To maxr Harp
Soaps.—Hard soaps are made by boiling oils or fats with a lye
ot caustic soda: In softsoayis the lye is pota-h. Resin is used
in yellow soaps, asit saves fat, Silicate of soda is now frequent-
ly used instead; it gives a white soap which has no offensive
smell, and has not the stickiness of resin soap..... . Groom.—Try
spirit of ammonia. .,,..Zroy.—Creosote will prevent it; half a
dozen dropsina pifff bottle.. ..|.Sexton.—Nitric acid is used, but
we would advise you to consult some practical engraver. It
willsave you both time and labor......4 Constant Reader.—We
cannot inform: you...,..4snawank, Minn.—To Fitt Percussion -
Caps.—The composition’ for filling percussion key consists of
‘six parts of niter and one of themercurial salt made into a thin
paste with water. When wet it is harmless, bat requires
precaution in ‘handling when dry...... Weekly eader.—The
eruptions will cease to purified.

G.—

Y
appear assoon as the blood is
Sarsaparilla, made in accordance with the recipe we published,
will effect_great good. Try it......Zouisa O.—1, To Destroy.
Fieas on Docs.—Wash with infusion of cocculus indicus, or
with coaloil, and then with sop and warm’ water. 2. See No.
32......0 J, B.—See No. 31...... Polly! Billings —To Straw
AND Cure Hats BLack.—First boil in strong logwood c
n the air,
and now andthen a small quantity of green coperas must be
added to the liquor, and this continued for severai hours. Af-
ter remaining in the kettle ali night, they must be taken out the
next earns and dri Ps oad st ena brushed yin a soft
brush. Lastly, a sponge in oil and squeezed almost
to dryness; with this the hats are rubbed all over, both inside
and out, ana then sent to the blockers to be blocked....To Dye
BROWN, take a sufficient aaatity
madder and Coperas, ap sadden to the shade required..... a
ony S. Lewis, J.—Camphor spirits......Harlem and Yorkville.—
1. See answer to “Sadness” in No. 29. We do not know the

Honster.—hhi the common
ink used, dissolve lump sugar, one drachm to one ounce of ink.
Bis Chemist.—This correspondent sends us the following recipe
for RestorinG Fapep WritinG: Take phlogisticated or prussic
aikali, and spread it thinly with a feather orstiek cut to a blunt
point. Tnen take mitrous or vitriolic ac ed so as not to
corrode the paper, and cover the writing wit fhe moment
the acid touches the. paper eyery trace of a} urns at once
to a fine blue, whieh soon acquires its full intensity. It, then,
the corner of a bit of blotting paper be carefully applied near
the letters, so as to imbibe the superfluous liquor, the stainin

of the paper may in a great measure be avoided; for it is th

superfluous liquor which, absorbing part of the coloring matter
from the letters, becomes a dye to whatever it touches. Care
must be taken not to bring the blotting paper.in contact with
the letters, because the coloring matter while soft may easily

be rupbed off.
-_—__—>- 0+ ——_————_—__..

sar That the Hon. Benjamin F. Butler, of Mass., like
all other eminent men, reads the NEW YORK WEEKLY, is
apparent from the fact, thatina recent speech :n Con-
gress he quoted from our facetious contributor, Josh Bil-
lings, in reference to some personal matter, as follows:
“In this behalf, lLaccept as my mottoa saying of Josh
Billings: ‘Blessed is he, who can pocket abuse, and is not

        
 

 

pleasant home she must ere long give up, for after com-

ashamed to be bit by a dog.’”

EE a

mended for Scorputic AFFECTIONS OF\THE GuMs: futusion of >

: . se,
one fluid drachm in one teaspoonful ef wine or brandy, to be :
Read  -

y
Fpiains, such matters. You will -
the store of the american News —

lightly, then folding it and sewing ©

ea

Infor
FOUL, 2.3 Joe Goldsmith,—1, This corres. ondent wishes a recipe —

mixed with the sugar before it is added to the cream. By
this means the cream will all be flavored aie 9 ee fe
Buffalo. Jack.—To make BLACKBERRY WINE see No. 28. To Pickrx ~

them stand twenty-tour hours —

fhe vinegarand spices
let them cometoa —

prom aE Aaa

ot Brazil wood, sumach bark,

 

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pe ong pies

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BUCHU.

The Great Diuretic.

The Propriefor trusis that his Remedies, from the faet of be-
ing advertised, may not be classed as Patent Medicines.
BUCHU) in one form or other, bas been presented by every
educated Physician for more than TWO HUNDRED YEARS,
H, T HELMBOLD claims a superior mode of extracting its vir-
ues. The experiments were made while engaged in the DRUG
business in the city of Philadelphia, nineteen years ago, prompt-
ed by the alarming increase of diseases of the Bladder, Kidneys,
| Gravel, and urinary organs, existing in both sexes. These di-
seases were justly attracting as much attention as diseases of the
Liver, or any other vital organ of the body. Upon the sound
and healthy condition of these :mportant organs, the healthy
and harmonious action of the nervous system and Liver, and
consequently the happiness of the entire human family, de-
pends. That Buchu should@act upon both Liver and Kidneys,
to prepare it so that it would retain its strength and active pri:-
ciple was his aim. It must not be made as housekeepers make
tea, by boiling. It is a delicate Leaf and its active principle
would be destroyed by such a process. It must be prepared in
VACUO, and from the Long-leaf, fresh and carefully selected.

The superiority of my mode of preparation being acknowl-
edged. Inow ship even to the point (Cape of Good Hope) where
the leaves are gathered, large quantities of MY FLUID EX-
TRACT. ‘n fact, the article stands pre-eminent, and is known
in all parts of the world.

The first and most important object was to offer to the afilict-
eda remedy that was perfectly safe, and could be taken by
adults and children. Ignorant persons who pay no attention to
dose, direction, or advice; mivht reason, ‘That if a teaspoonful,
taken occasionally, did good, two would do better, and perhaps
a bottle would cure ina day.’ ~

Many have broken down their health by dissipation, and on
this principle; but they, have been years in domg so. | | 5.

What I would have understood is,) that no injury can arise

{rom its use. Itisassafe as any article of foods but patients

must not expect any medicine to rebuild a wrecked or shatter
ed constitution in.a few days. « .  * a

This truth is as.self-evident that it would séem unnecessary to
repeat it, were it not for the fact that thousands of persons who
are intelligent in all other mattersseem to think, unreasonably,
that a curative agent mus: exhibit its-specifie effets immedi

ately, when the fact is that time is often an important element

_ in the progress ofasafe and thorongh cure, even when the

medicine is working tlie best results. These same persons would
expend HUNDREDS, yes, THOUSANDS of DOLLARS, in arti.
cles of LUXURY and DISSIPATION, and think less,of it than
they would of FIFFY DOLLARS in medicine to rebuild a BRO-
KEN DOWN and WORN-OUT CONSTITUTION. Notwithstand-
ing the number of years I have péen engeged in business, there

HELMBOLD'S Ly
Concentrated Fluid Extract;

 

may be those located ata distance that may not be aware of all

the facts, and woulkd-like to be satisfied onjall the points.. Hav-
ing been educated a druggist, Tappend the following::
ThE AOE He

FROM THE LARGEST MANUFACTURING CHEMIST IN THE
: WORLD.

“Tam acquainted with Wr: H. T. Helmbold. He occupied the
drug store opposite my residence, and wis successful in con-
ducting the buslmqns emery others had not been.equally so_be-
fore him. I have been favorably impressed with his character

d enterprise.
and enterpri “WILLIAM WEIGHTMAN,

“Firm of Powers.& Weightman, Manufacturing Chemists,
Ninth and Brown Sts., Piiladelpmia, Nov. 15, 1861. eile

 

I propose to give evidence that this Remedy is not a Patent

Medicine. The ohisotion which generally lies against all dis-
coyeries and inventions in medicine is **Publicity.”” If somebody
should discover 4 remedy to prolong life, or an infallible cure
for cholera or consumption, what a monster he would be to

withhold his knowledge? We have yet to learn from what chap-
i ers of

ter or verse in Scripture to quote, “that nien may not »
their fellow men of any eee aati

Nor have we asked Pickwichs, affected prudés, or, im short, men
who are possessed of ecery kind of sense but common sense, and all lands

of opinions but their own. i
en eran oe

We offer the following evidence:—See Journal of Pharmacy.
See remarks made by Dr. Ephraim McDowell, a celebrated
Physician, and Member of the Royal. College ot Surgeons, Ire-
and grr hed in the transactions of the King and Queen’s

5 e Medico-Chirugical Review, published b; a a-
min Travers, Fellow ot 2 of

 

 

1
remarks made by the late ted Dr. Physick, Phi
and most of the Tate Stan Works on. e. §
Properties contained in € , of the eae
which the following is a corre of

iGjehi 2 ia x
BUCHU.—Its odor is strong, diffusive, and somewhat aromal-
ic: iis taste is bitterish, and analogousto thatof,

at
ety Tekareh of the Bladder, Morbid It

   
     

0 itation of the Blad- ee , ae vero

“4 s of the Prostrate G ‘ Reten- @) K t andle of the door roughly, and having
det And, U retire eee: A With tous ee Db Fone Inthe parted found om axcuae fan, yo0x saben, heti I Saw | twisted the lock back, would have pushed the dvor open,
concerned inits evacuation. Tt has also/been Oran. in | trouble coming upon me, I wrote in my letter that until | but he found a resistance, and paused, slightly aston-

Dyspepsia, Chronic Rheumatism, Cutaneous ns, and | the danger that surrounded me passed away, and I came | ished. A ;
Dropsy- Raat out of it spotless, 1 would not trouble you with y mals __ The instant he removed hishand from the handle, the

TESTIMONY. sive of ill tidings, but come to you wlien I could lay at j door opened, and he was confronted by Annette.
viele ors ; ; your feet the wealth I have fought so hard to obtain.” __ There was a terribie light in her eyes as she gazed upon
PERMANENT CURE OF DIABETES WITH FOUR “You speak in enigmas, sir,’’ Ella said, with a choking | Sir William; a light which deepened as she saw tlie state
*” BOTTLES gasp. ‘1 have had no letters.’? he was in, »
ahs “No, my lady, as I judge by the contents of this. But

HACKENSACK, BerGEN Co., N. J.,
April 26, 1870.
nr. H. T. HELMBOLD—Dear Sir: I had been suffering fora
idee time from Diabetes, and had been under treatment for
same by @) three of the most eminent physicians of this place,
viz: Drs. Hasbrook, Hall and Smith, without any apparent bene-
ficialresult. Having heard of your “Fluid Extract Buchu,” I
concluded to try it, although I had but little faith in its curative
roperties. I am happy to state that; after having taken four
ottles of your “Buchw? 1 am entirely cured, and deem it but
my duty to you and the community at large to inform you of
the fact that I have been permanently cured by your medicine,
after having been mforimed by the (3) three physicians above
named that my disease was incurable.
Truly yours, JOHN H. WYGANT
I respecifully refer to any citizen of Hackensack.
City anp County OF NEW York, ss.
John H. Wygant, peing of the village of Hackensack, county

of Bergen, State,ot New Jersey, being duly sworn, deposes and
says that the foregoing fs true to his knowledge.
(Signed) . = ~ JOHN H. WYGANT
Sworn to before me this 27th day ofApril, 1870.
JOHN G. KEARNEY,
ommissioner of Deeds, New York City and County,
25 Chambers Street New York.

“PERMANENT CURE OF A PATIENT WHO HAD SUF-
\ FERED FOR FIFTEEN YEARS WITH DISEASE OF

THE KIDNEYS. sehen 4

This is to certify thatin the year of 1869, one of our customers
a gentleman aged 50 years, who had been afflicted for fifteen
years with disease of the kidneys, called on us tor Helmbold’e ka-
tract Buchu, and atter having used eight betties, stated to us that
he considered himself permanently curet, He bas no hesitation
in stating that he received wore venefit from the use of Helm-
bold’s Extract Buchu than from the treatment of. various eimi-
nent physicians during the time above stated, and reconimends
the same to all who may be suff ing from any disease origina-
ting froma disordered state of the kidneys. Statements similar to
the above have been reccived by us fron: various sources dur-
ing the past four years. Yours truly, PEARCE & FRIENN,
Marietta, Ohio. {These are the leading Druggists of Marietta.)

FROM THE PRINCIPAL, PHYSICIAN OF THE SANI-
TARY INBIRMARY OF THE STATE OF LOUISIANA.

Parish LA Fourcnr, La., April 29,1870.
H. T. HELMBOLD, Esq. —Dear Sir; I have in my practice
used (in the mu jority of cases, where diseases of the urinary or-
gans existed,) Helmbold’s Extract of Buchu, and can confidently
say that I have neyex known it to be, used without the greatest
beneficial results. Ihave consulted patients after partaking of
it, and they ipvariably confirm my statement. I am satisfied

that the preparation Is an established fact, convincingly proved
y the practical test of long ex perience.

Yours, respectfully, JOHN B. C. GAZZO, M. D.

GREAT CURE OF DIABETES OF A LADY, FIFTY
DOLLARS A BOTTLE.

New York, Feb. 6. 1870.
DEAR DR. HELMBOLD—Dear Sir: For the past eight
T have been suffering trom Diubetes, have COnatleahs Riera
of our leading physicians, but have failed. to receive the slight-
est benefit from their cosUy medicimes. Four months ago I saw
your advertisementin the Herald. Iwas persuaded by a friend
who had been benefitted by your World-Renowned Buchu,
purchased a bottle, took the contents, and wasso releved that
I contiuned the use of it. The Diabetes has entirely disappear-
ed after using it for three months. I-would give filty dollars a
betileif 1] could not getit at any other price. I most earnestly
recoulmend it to all those suffering trom this disease.
Sincerely yours,
ANNA E, STOUGHTON,
No. 128 West Twenty-Seventh St.

RS
. HELMBOLD’S
EXTRACT BUCH,
ESTABLISHED UPWARDS OF NINETEEN YEARS,

PREPARED BY

H. T. HELMBOLD,

het Athis Drug and Chemical Warchouses, No. 554 BROADWAY,

N. ¥., and No, 164 SOUTH-TENTH STREET, PHILA., PA.
Price—Six Bottles for $6 50, or $1 25 per bottle; delivered to any
. address. Sold by Druggists every where.
None are genuine unless done up ina steel-engraved wrapper,
jwith fae-similie of my Chemical Warehouse, and signed
+ w40-2t, H, T. HELMBOLD,

 

 

 

 
  

THE SUICIDE.

 

BY D. SCOTT EVANS.

There is a hollow down between the hills,
Where giant rocks majestically uprise,
A dreaded silence broodeth there which fills
The soul with fear. At night the hooting cries
Of some Jone owl floats dismally down the vale,
And echoes far within the gloomy wood.
The stream which murmurs sadly by a tale
Could tell, to gaze upon would freeze the blood
Within a villain’s heart—a suicide !
Alas! that human kind should be so weak,
That love should rule.all sense of reason, pride,
And e’en ambition’s generous flame, and seek
To smother disappoiniment’s bitter grief
Within dark death’s unseen abyss! She came!
Her form did tremble like the aspen leaf—
Her large dark eyes to Heaven raised—a name
She breathed! Although the thunders bellowed loud,
Aithough the driving rain did madiy pour,
While darker, deeper grew each mutt’ring cloud
That rolled above; bat yet amid the awful roar
That name fell loud and grating on her ear!
Alone and pale beside the stream she stood,
And breathed a prayer for God alone to hear—
She kissed the cross—then swift into the flood
She wildly, madly plunged! A shriek!
A gasp! and alliso’er! The howling night
Shuts off the scene from view. The winds moan bleak
And sad. On roll the waves as ifa sight
So awful and so desperate had not been;
While now they close above the form beneath,
And dance and leap beneath the falling rain,
While tall and waving elm trees whisper death.

 

A CHARMING. STORY OF ENGLISH SOCIETY.

ELLA ST. MAUR;

SS oR! 25

THE HATE OF A LIFE-TIME,

By Mrs. Jennie Scott.

(“Ella St. Maur” was commenced im No. 34, Back numberscan
be had from News Agents throughout the country.)

CHAPTER XVII. .

.

Sir William Luxbridge heard the involuntary cry utter:
ed by his wife, and recognized the voice that said:

“Ay, Elia St. Maur, itis 11’?

“Gustave De Traville, and here!’ he said, rushing ont
upon them with a deadly terror in his face, that made it
almost repulsive. “I shonid like an explanation, sir?”

De 'fraville answered him with a savage laugh:

“Sir William Luxbridge, yeu shall have one.”’

The duchess, grim with astonishment, came upon them
then, and De Traville, going close to the baronet, hissed:

“Be careful, Sir William!it were better you did not,pro-
voke a Whatl have to say is best said between our
three selves—the only ones voncerned,’’ 7

Ella looked bewildered from one to the other, and was
made strangely anxious to hear all, by the look of terror
on Sir William’s face. : fate

“It may be as well that we should adjourn, Sir Wil-
liam,’?? she said, coldly. ‘It is better than having to re-
tire under a threat.”’ A Ot"

A cold, deadly gleam came in the baronet’s, eyes. at
that; and Gustave, with his old reckless spirit still alive
within him, could not resist a smile. f Dees

“I will see him, then, in my library,” Sir ihe es

ri

 

“Not alone,” answered De Trayille. ‘Your . ; Sir
William, must be present.’? iy rs

“Lady Luxbridge must be consulted,about that,’’ the
baronet said, with a nervous tremor of the lips.

*Presuming itis 1 you mean, I consent without consul-
tation, Sir William,” Ella said, proudly., ‘If you hesitate,
Idonot. Follow me.”

And turning her queenly form from them, she strode
with a supreme grace into the baronet’s library; and De.
annoy peing the last in, took the liberty of fastening the

The beautiful Ella, appearin
mental struggle, seated Nerself in one of the
chairs, and faced the two men. Both st confron:
each other, like men who had met in ly antagonis!
and were going to settle their hatred in deadly strife.

“Ella, by a base deceit you are now, Lady xbri é
For all the pain I may cause you, forgive me, and blame.
him ;who is the cause of it. You wonder why I came.
The explanation is easy.” De Traville gathered calmness
ashe went on. “Look at this, it is your Jetter, brought
to me by ohe ofthose chances that are peculiar to

circumstances that seem ruled | te.) . 2. ai
scarlet, and then slowly becan

library

 
  

  
 

Sir William's face grew
even whiterthan before. | is Paes
*Itreached me last night. Ah! you start

i

 

so did i when I saw it; for by the

| ee Pte teenie wee on,
it

a Ranennes Vat a dagger

    
   
  

   
 

 
 

I wrote as you wrote. The
letters, intercepted mine.”

“Intercepted

“Ay; and he, your husband, is the person who could
descend to such a meanness. But villainy does not al-
ways triumph. By some means the packet of stolen let-
ters fell out of his pocket, and was picked up by Joseph
Sadler. He read this letter, and brought ittome, Hence
lam here.”’ ;

“And this,’? Ella said, rising, and turning firmly to-
ward Sir William—‘“and this is true ?””

“You must not forget, my lady,’’ answered the baronet,
with a miserable attempt at braving it out, ‘that all is
fair in love and war. My love for you made me forget
any sentimental feelings of honor, and I did intercept the
letters. This man was no fit person for you, as 1 have
proved.”’

“That,’? answered Ella, proudly, and the blood mounted
to her temples, ‘‘that, Sir William, was for me to judge.
Perhaps what you said of his faith and truth to me
Wwas——”? :

“If, burst out De Traville, “Sir*William Luxbridge
has dared say aught in defamation of my honor, either as
a man or your lover, he shall repent, and, by Heaven, |
will ram every word down his throat.”

“Have you, then, no living victim of your honorless
passion—had you no disgraceful liaison, even while you
were stealing my girlish tove, De Trayille??

“As there js a Heaven above me, pa What he has aé-
ensed nié of lié niiiseif iS Aldhe Guilty. Ltell you, Ella—
for even to his fag¢e I tell you—that he has by the basest
perjury, the most atrocious villainy, forced you into an
alliance that ought to put an everlasting . curse
upon him. He has blasted your life, as he has my
loves, I tried to get here before the fatal cere-
mony should take place, but failed; still l owed a duty to
myself in removing from your heart the doubts Sir Wil-
liam must have caused you to have of me. I loved but
ene love. You are my first and only love. And here, be-
fore the man who has robbed me of you, I swear I shall
love you always the same. The purpose I had in life is
dead now; 1 care nething what may become of me, and
I shall leave England, perhaps for ever.”

“That would be as well,”’? putin the baronet. ‘You
must not forget that the jurymen who sat to decide the
cause of death to Lord Berton, whose new was found out-
side your bank, have still adofibt. Somebody asserted he
possessed papers and receipts of money placed in your
bank, Whatif it were proved he died inside, instead of
outside the Lima Bank? It would look a little like mur-
der with robbery.” |

“Like what, sir???

“Are youmen? Back, I say!’

Ella, alla woman now, jumped up and stood between
her husband and her lover, for De Traville had strode to-
ward the baronet with a look on his face and a glitter in
his eyes of deadly intent.

“Neither of you, 1 trust, will forget you are raising
your hands before a woman. Be silent and be still—hear
me, both!’

The word beauty is no longer applicable to the magnifi-
cent woman wiio stood between the two men, of fierce
passions. She was calm, though her heart was well nigh
bursting. She spoke with a distinct deliberation that it
took a marvelous mental effort to effect.

“What is done, is done, nor can it be undone at will or
wish! she said, and her eyes flashed as they had never
flashed before. ‘The holylaw of the church has bound
us, Sir William, together, with a tie that the law cannot
break. I must abide by my fate; but Iswear, and Heaven
shall deal with me hereafter should I break my oath, that
in no one thing am I your wife, Sir William, but in name!
You have your part of the house, I have mine. We will
each keep tothem. You may bid me appear in society as
your wile, you may command me to receive and do honor
to your friends as Lady Luxbridge. I will obey. Seek to
enforce your matrimonial rights any further, and the at-
tempt shall, I swear, end by your death—or mine!’

She paused fora minute. Her breast heaved and fell
with the emotion that rocked her body,

“You have heard me—you, sit,’’ speaking to De Tra-
ville. ‘Bear witness to my oath. Fear not, Sir William,
but that I shall be well able to defend that which I have
sworn you shall never possess—Heaven help me!??

She was sinking in aswoon, for her fortitude gave way;
weakness caine now, the ferced strength was spent, and
oe for De Travilie she would have fallen heavily to the
floor.

“Ella !?’ he said, in a firm whisper.

Bat she rallied almost as quickly as she had given way.
“Lam well,” shesaid; ‘fear not for me. The door—
open it. Let me go!”

person who intercepted your

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Too proud to succumb to her feelings before them, she
strode out of the library, and went to her own private

ealm only by a great]
g1.

those |

  
 
   

waiting her coming, l
“Remove these

hang on me like @) *
“My lady is y.??
“J am, indeed, mere than unhappy, Annette. Do not
use that title to me. I would rather my mind should dweil
upon the past by ring the old familiar name.”

“Ah, my dear lady, something has occurred since your
marriage.”? 6
«Much, Annette; but I cannot tell you now; by-and-by,
by-and-by. But, Annette, you love me, do you not???
‘Love you, my dear lady—my darling mistress, Mon
Dieu ! so much, so deeply, I cannot express it.”

“Henceforth, you must be my body-guard as
well as my maid, You must not leave me nigut or day.”

“Night or day, my lady ?” :

“No. In future your couch is here, by the side of mine.
I am wedded, ‘tis true, Annette, but the tie that should be
a sacred joy is an accursed chain, that will fetter my soul
while. it inhabits this earthly form, and rankle round my
heart until its fetters rust and cut into it and set me free.
The man who calls himself my husband won me by a
‘base; black lie, by ¢ mmate villainy, by defaming my
lover, by evil means, even as it seemed, proving that he |
loved is one. of h’s basest creatures, by rousipg my
jealousy, by turning my love to hate, and my longing for
De Traville’s love to a thirst for revenge; and when, An-
nette, he had doneall this, and made me his wife, ob,
heavens! De Traville met him in the hall, confronted Sir
William, proved him a soulless, unscrapulous liar I never
could have deemed any mortal to be. Two hearts are
vroken, Annette. What shoulda be the revenge? What
would you do???

“1 said Annette, with all the raging fury of her race
glaring in her dark, passionate eye—‘‘I, my dear lady!
Mon Dieu ! I would kill him !”

“Hush, Annette,” cried Ella, shrinking back. ‘Never
breathe those words again; they chill me, chill me to the
core! Heaven! it were a biessiugto die now! Lead me
to my couch; let me sleep, Annette. Watch overme, 1
—am—tired—tired—heart-sick !? |

And she sank back then—back into the strong arms of
the dark-browed Annette, who laid her gently back upon
her pillow and sat in silence by ber side, forgetting, for
the moment, that her fair mistress more than slept—she
had fainted !

Some minutes elapsed after Ella left the room before
Sir William Luxbridge could bring himseif to fully under-
stand the purport of her words, anid the fearful oath she
had taken. Then he turned, trembling like a tiger pre-
paring for a bloody encounter, and had De Traville been
aman of less nerve and less pbysical strength, the baro-
net would then and there have Jeaped upon him, but he
dared not. ;

“I think we shall be pretty equal now, my friend,” said
Gustave, mockingly.. “Had I known before how much I
really owed you, I should have paid you ere this difficulty,
and perhaps more effectually. You have played your
game very cleverly, Sir William, but you lave not gained
yet. Iam aware thatI -haye you to thank forthe first
anonymous notice of our insolvency; and yourscheme in
withdrawing your property from our hands, and induc-
ing your friends to do the same, was worthy of you. But
fear not, Sir*8William, the Lima firm shall shine yet. If it
‘be the last act of my life, Colonel Carlton shall be free of
you. The mortgage is not due yet. Try your worst—do
your worst, and when you attempt, like a rabid dog, to
give a fatal bite, | have another card to play, Sir William,
that will leave you bereft of everything you possess but
the man’s clothes and black heart that a poor man, would
shudder to have throbbing within him! Good day, my
friend! Take your measures well, for Gustave De Traville
1s your deadly enemy—an enemy to the death!”

He strode out, and the baronet, with his panther-like
grin, followed him with Nis eyes until the door closed,
and then he paced the floor with so fearful a look on nis
face, that he shivered at its reflection in the glass.

' “And so you have another card to play, De Traville. So
havel. Weshall see whose will bé the winning one.
Foes tothe death! By Heaven, it shallbeso! I shall
‘lot surrender.”?

Yet he knew he hada bold enemj
tave; but then he had evidence of t)
ton, that properly used would put
on’s dock, and perhaps his head in

Still the baronet was terribly strick
gradually that his position dawned u
right well that his wife would not bre
_“Uniess,”? he muttered, “I can put

‘felon’s dock and prove his crime, she D

‘That might turn her hate against

ness—foolery! She taiy w e, and let
have to ¢

ee her with a glad smile.
table garments, Annette; they

ee

    
  

   
  
    
   
    
  
   

eal with in Gus-
hof Lord Bet-

h

    
 

 
  
   
 
 
 
 
     
   
    
     
 
 
 
 
 

melo-drama ance will not do,

 

 

; shall not p

 

 

| marriage.

  

“Her ree said the baronet, ‘where is she ?”’

“In safe keeping, Sir William,’’ answered the French
maid, with some scorn in her voice, “and in no state to
be seen by you.”

“Out, woman! and keep your insolence for a
ting time. I will hear no paltry pretences———’

“Pretences |”?

“Yes, madam.” a

“Sir William, you forget you are speaking to a French
woman, and a lady. My mistress, alas! is ill. Her grace
the duchess has despatched @ messenger for the physi-
cian. And were she not so, she has, poor darling, called
upon me to defend her from you, and, with Heaven’s aid,
I shall do so.” ;

“Let me pass !!?

“Hush! are you a man, that you will stand here crying
out like a drunkard, when so fair a creature lies in the
first attack of feverish delirium, and is distressed by even
the distant sound of your voice ?”’

“Sir William, be advised; come, my dear Sir Wildam,”’
said the voice of the Duchess of Wypton, and her face ap-
pearel under the arm of Annette. “Do retire. Poor dar-
ling, she is ill.” ’ , ;

But it seemed that even then-the baronet would have
resisted, had not he been suddeniy and considerably
startled by the appearance of Frank, who came in looking
deadly pale.

“Fa ther,” he said, reproachfully, “what are you do-
ing?” <3 : “

The baronet turned away and strode toward the dintng-
room, and Frank followed; but, as though relenting at
having shown any sense of.shame, the baronet turned
again and faced his son, and his face was convulsed with
passion.

“Why are you here ?”’ he said.

“Because I thought my presence would be wanted. Be-
cause I could not understand you of late—could not find
any cause for which you should send me, like a
child, out of the way while you were contracting a mar-
riage with your ward, Because I have come, horror-
stricken at your inexplicable—to me, at least—show of
remorseless enmity to my cousin, “You have given notice
that not twelve hours’ grace shall be given to Colonel
Carlton when the mortgage is due. Tell me, father, are
you mad—mad with drink, temper, or wrath—or say, am
I not deceived ?’?

“I hold myself in no way justified to answer you, sir,
and unless you obey my don A I will disinherit you.”

“You have no need of that, sir, I shall leave here soon
—for once and forever.”

eget fit-

 

CHAPTER XVIIL

Montague Carlton lay in a sad state for many days, and
it was impossible to banish all doubts ®f his recovery
until a most decided change for the better came, and it
was along while coming.

He had been well nursed and better cared for than he
thought, for Emily, when he slept, had often watched him
patiently. By the timehe was able to sit up the colone!
arrived, The first he asked for, after seeing his wife, was
his son; and Mrs. Carlton told him then,

“Tle was waylaid, injured, and robbed.”

“Robbed |? echoed the colonel, with an instant convic-
tion of the truth. ‘Ofwhat?”

“Your old portmanteau, Richard,”

“Good Heavens !’? ‘

So deadly white did the old veteran’s face turn as he
spoke, that Mrs. Carlton, fear-stricken and amazed, went
to his side,

“Blanche, it is our ruin.”’ :

“Bear up, Richard, for his sake, Our son is waiting t»
see you, and is in no state tobe worried by seeing you
look as you do.” ,

Colonel Carlton turned away with an inward moan. He
dared not tell iis wife all the truth, and to keep the trouble
to himself was difficult; but then it spared her and his
son, and so he became content to bear the burden alone,

He went to Montague, who was lying on a couch, stily
pale, and still weak, but progressing favorably.

“Ah, my dear son, I did not expect to find you like this,”
the old man said.

“7 never expected to find myself like this, dad,’? Mon-
tague said, smiling, and then a shade of regret came over
his face, ‘I did not care for myself, dad; but it made me
groan 2 bit that I could not successfully bring home the
portmanteau you were so anxious about.”

He saw his father wince at'that, and felt, as he had be-
fore conjectured, that there was more in that portmanteau
than the colonel wished the world to know or see, }

“TI shall be able to get up to-morrow and walk joliily
about,”? said Montague. . “I shall see then if anything can
be done to trace the scoundrels who waylaid me.”

“They are gone long since, my sen. That isnot the
worst; what they have they will find more dangerous than

 

 

chamber, Her jmaid, g young, pretty Freuchwoman, was

useful, and “may cast them away, to be picked “up by

-oz4 THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. #&

Hreven knows who, and the result entails danger to us

“Father,’”? Montagne said, sitting up and fixing his fine
eyes on the colonel’s face, “there is something wrong.
May I know whatitis? lLamaman_ now, I can bear it.
Tell me, father. Surely lam the one who should share
your trouble, as well as your prosperity.”

“There is much wrong, my son; too much for your
mother to know; but 1 will not tell you now—to-morrow
will be time enough, and a

“Mr. De Trayille isin the library, colonel,’’ said a ser-
vant, coming suddenly npon them.

“Very well, I will be ‘here in a minute,’’ answered Carl-
ton, senior. “Moutague, we shall have to leave Ashwood
in a day or two,” :

He went into the library then to see De Traville. Gus-
tave’s eyes were fixed upon a paragraph in one of the
daily papers; a paragraph that contained an account of
the strange discovery of a nobleman dead in the city, and
near the offices of the insolvent Lima Banking Company.

“Why do you keep this about you,’? Gustave said, ‘fret-
ting your mind and irritating yourself by the remem-
brance this conjures up?’

“Crime is not easily jorgotten,’’ answered the colonel,
gravely.

“Crime ! there was no crime;
did we cause it.’?

“His death? No,

“And the other. Bah! what of that? Weshall swim
again, colonel; and whemwe do, the money shall be re-
turned.’?

“I fear not; fate is against us, Gustave. Had we braved
everything honestly, openly, it might have been other-
wise. What you did for me, Gustave, is useless.’

“Useless ???

“It has been torn from me,??

“Speak out, in Heaven’s name! Still more trouble,
more danger. Heavens, colonel, will nothing but deatn
end this???

“T fear not. Montague was waylaid and robbed. The
contents of the portmanteau are gone.’’

Gustave de Traville staggered back then, and a bitter
oath burst from his lips.

“Is Satan following upon our track?’ he said, when
Carlton had given him the details of the robbery. “What
shall we be uriven toif this continues?”

“Death!? answered Carlton, despairingly.

“Ay, death!’ echoed De Traville, striding about like a
man chafing under the smart of captivity.

“There is no help now,” the colonel went on. ‘I have
had notice that the mortgage is due—in fact, over due.
The man who has instructions, Mr. Luke Rayner, to get
the aifiir settled, will not show us a day’s mercy,”’

De Traville was about to make some furious answer,
when aknock at the door told them a servant was out-
side, and, when he entered, their astonishment only
equaled their anger; for he announced:

“Mr. Luke Rayner!’?

And the tall old man.in black, even without waiting to
see if his presence would be acceptable, walked jin.

He showed a little surprise at seeing Gustave there.
He had not forgotten. the stranger. who so unceremo-
niously took the spare seat in his gig on one fine Satur-
day afternoon, and he smiled.

“Colonel Carlton,’ he said, “I, should like to see yeu
privately.?? ;

“This is privately.”

Rayner looked toward De) Traville:

“Mr. Trayille, sir, is as; deeply concerned as myself—
speak out.”?

“Well, colonel, you know, of course, mine is an un-
pleasant business, but I must do my duty to those who
Hay. me to do it. This mortgage must be paid in five days,

Kee—sestils vig ; ;
“Conclude.” E

“You must quit this. estate, sir—never to look upon it
agaim as yours.) )» ; is 9

“Five days??) fiztince i tewol ad

“Yes, colonel, Unfortunately that is all the time I can
give you. I deeply regret-———””., . jaysess

_ You need not,” interposed the colonel; haughtily. “I
have ‘heard, ang 1 understand you. Come in five days,
and you shall haye my answer.” :

Luke, Rayner. smiled. at that. Perhaps he had some
vague notion that the mortgage would be paid, or per-
haps it pleased him to know he would have-an answer of
some kind on the fifth day. However, he smiled, bowed
low, and retired...

The two men looked at each other for some time, and
each knew perfectly well the other’s thonghts. The sub-
ject nearest their hearts was a painful, one—so painful

the colonel, after twice or thrice endeavoring to

 

we had no hand in it, nor

hat
ird, speak ( auD with an inward groan.> , ;

Ae

} said Gustave, like a man who is desperately
resolved, »

re have five days. Very well; something—I
ise now what that something is—shall be

done. I will go to London.’ ,
“Notto-night, Gustave??? _ Bey
“Why not? Icannot rest. You do not know whatelse

has, happened.*? :

“So much has occurred,” answered Colonel Carlton,

| with a sigh, “that I am ata loss totfink of what else
could occur.’?

 
 
    
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
     
 

“You know my secret, colonel—how I loved Ella???
“Quite well”? ; |
“Then Sir William Luxbridge ‘-has forced herintoa
vias They are man and wife. Curse him!’ :
His lips quivered as he spoke; and his eyes grew full of
ous fire. Colonel Carlton could see how this last

blew had told upon d. was moved to # pity that
even his own troub en toute nar ais 0 ou / ot 4
.my.cousin is

Jd

 
 
 
 

“Had any man but you even hirtt L
what I find him to be—a villain,” Carlton sai
have quarreled with him.., Alas! it is too Jate now for re-
gret, and revenge does no man any sane Sian

“So you may think, colonel, and it may be all the bet-
ter that you can think.so. [could not. I shalihave re-
venge, colonel, But until the time comes, I will keep my
mind on other things.” —__.. ;

They had, indeed, much. to talk of—so much that they
were closeted together for hours, and yemained undis-

  
  
   
 

eo

urbed. “2: «4!

The quiet hint Mrs, Carlton had given of their inten-
tion of leaving Ashwood, of course, Was taken as an in-
timation that they would be. glad to get rid of their
iriends. :

Maurice Catersburg, with a grimace that no one but
his sister saw, got up a very clever impromptu story
about certain reasons why they were compelled to has-
ten back to London, as they had much there to do and
many personal friends and relatives to visit. Mrs. Carl-
ton was not sorry they were going, but she was glad
when Lady Adderly invited them to her town house, ana
Maurice inwardly gloated.

Montague felt a positive delight; for, in spite of him-
self, he could not help a feeling of jealousy for the hana-
some Catersburg, nor could he quite resist a feeling. of
admiration for his sister Sibyl.

A day after the Catersburgs Jeft Ashwood, Lady Aa-
derly and her daughter followed their example. When
Emily had withdrawn from Ashwood, which was not be-
fore she had taken part with Montague in one of those
lingering farewells in which lovers delight, he fell into a
settled melancholy, which was replaced by keener sor-
row when Frank Luxbridge came suddenly upon him,

“Frank |?

“Montague |?

(To be continued.)

Two New Srorirs Next WeEK.—In the Next Number of the
New York WEEKLY two New Stories will be commenced—one
by Annie AsHMORE, €ntitied, “Tne Diamonp Coi.aR; or, THE
Bisnop’s Drsr;”’ and another charming Story of Engtish Socie-
ty, which will be especially pleasing to our lady readers.
hot Te eee

Pleasant Paragraphs.

—The Chinaman hascome! Already, aided by the modern
Samson, he has securely intrenched himself in one of the
strongholds of labor, in North Adams. His presence in the shoe
manufactory has compelled its desertion by civilized working-
men—men who prefer beefsteak to fricaseedrats, The almond-
eyed invader, his mouth distended with the grin of the animal
on which he so frequently feasts, aelightedly proclaims to the
world that he is “ratting” on a gigantic scale, and, like the two:
legged “rats”. which honorable printers detest, intends to un-
dermine and overthrow remunerative labor. The Yankee Sam-
son may not beso successf{ulin this scheme as he anticipates;
perhaps a fate similar to that which closed the career of his
biblical namesake awaits him: He may discover, some fine
morning, a house tumbling about his ears. Should this be his
fate, the North Adams shoe manufactory will very likely bethe
last refuge of the Asiauc cobblers, and its commercial ruin a
warning to other’capitalists who advocate the degradation of
our laboring classes to the level of

THE COMING CHINAMAN,.
Air, “The Devil's Banquet.”

A pig-tailed band, from the Flowery Land,
In living swarms we pour,

To sweep American workingmen
From fair Columbia‘s shore.

For they cannot live on rats and mice,
Or birds’ nest soup, as we do;

They never have tried cockroaches fried,
Or the sweets of a puppy-dog stew.

 

CHORUS,

Stand aside, whiteman! your toes we’ll tread upon!
You’re beat out and underbid by Chinaman John!
Hong Kong, Ohiang, Yangtse Kiang,
From the Flowery Land we flow,
Hammer the gong, rong, tong, bong!
For Koepmanschaff & Co,

In the Golden State, we rule, sedate,
AH avenues of toil;
In placer and mine, our shaven pates shine,
As we delve jor the yellow spoil
And Eastward ho! like a wave, we flow,
All work to meHopeliZgs
No others shall bend with us to contend
For labor’s lusty prize.
Cuorvs—Stand aside, &c,

We've never a thought, we live on naught,
We work for little more,
We are in the thra'l of capital,
We are wolves at the poor man’s door.
Every trade our hosts invade,
By our merry masters led,
And we laugh at the poor “barbarians,”
As they whimper and groan tor bread.
CHorvus—Stand aside, &e.

We cancook your food, be servants good,
The laundry is our forte;

We can carry and bring, do everything,
Be everytbing in short.

We'll swarm, like bees, in factories,

y

< > a — :

 

ton said, “I shouid |

i> OD

You’ll have your hard work done,
And beat their bragging ‘'Unions’.out
With the Children of the Sun.

Cuorvus—Stand aside, &e.

Whate'er vou choose, at making shoes,
At tailoring we're fR;
At any rate, we imitate
With duplicating wit.
All laborers we'll underbid,
Till we starve them black and blue;
By ruddy gold we're bought and sold,
We have our “Samson” too.

Cuorus—Stand aside, &e.

What if your workmen’s children starve ?
This land, you say, is free;

Our course we’ll keep till they work as cheap,
And live the same as we.

Good mutton and beef for working men,
When rats and bugs are thick!

Such insolence in China, whence
We came, would make them sick.

Cuorvus—Stand aside, &c.

What's good enough for a Coolie rough
Is good enough for thi m;
They mfst work as cheap, or to Famine’s keep
Well surely them condemn.
The heels we’ve kissed of thé Capitalist,
And we'll labor early and late
To keep his royal excellence
In proper pride and state,

Cuorus—Stand aside, &e,

Trade Unions now will have to bow
‘ And beg for life at his hands;

But what will they do as he points them to
His bounden pig-tail bands ?

At lathe and loom they’li have to make room,
At fire and forge, in a trice,

For the true and tried, the almond eyed,
Who work at any price.

Cuorus—Stand aside, &e.

Ah, tender mash is birds’ nest hash,
And rare is rat regout! ‘
But to take the first piace in labor’s race
Is dearer than the two.
Over city and farm we sweep and swarm,
And Confucius be our judge
If from this land of America
We’llever stir or budge!
Cuorvs—Stand aside, &¢:
Celestiais gay, we take our, way,

?
And Gearly we love the places of
White workingmen to fill.
Ticketed, labeled, and handied with care,
And shipped, like sardines in a can,
Were to wheel about and soon starve out
The American workingwan, ;

cHORUS.

Stand aside, white man? your toes we'll tread tpon:
You're beat out'and urderbid by Chinaman Johnt
Hong Kong, Chiang, Yangtse Kiang,
From the Flowery Land we flow!
Hammer the gong, rong, tong, bong!
For Koopmanschaff & Co.
JURRY’S TRICK. ; j
In Columbia .county resides old parson S » the shappy
father of eight children. As is usually the case there is.a pats
sheep among.the flock. One of his boys Jerry) is far from
ing a chip of the old block, but like ali“young Americas,” He
delights in playing tricks. The old parson has in his possession
a valuable 'Newfouwidland dog, which, by | the way, isvery
muchiattached,to him. One: Sunday, preparatory. to going,to
preach to his flock, he to:d Jerry, Jr.; todo some chores about
the farm, also to be sure and chain the dog. After the. father
had gone, the idea entered Jerry’s. mind ‘that he could haye *
some fun. So he got from the bouse a striped shirt, which he
placed on the dog by putting its fore feet through
the garment, and allowing the hine legs to pass throug! holes
cutin’the tail. He then unchained the anunal, which used its
freedom by making a bee liue for the ehurch.. The old parson
had arrived at the most interesting part of his sermon, and the
congregation were partly convinced of their many sins, when
the dog, clothed with the striped shirt, came bounding up the
aisle, not stopping till he had ‘put his fore paws on the pulpit.

 

preacher angrily proclaiming that it was another of Jerry’s
contounded tricks, W. F. Jd.
WATCHING THE BEANS.

vant girlinthe kitchen for ashort time, telling her to watch
some beans, which were cooking on the stove, (meaning, of
course, that she should not let them burn.) After a while she
smelt something burning, and upon going to the kitehen found *
Mary pay at work, and the beans burning. “Oh, Mary,” she
said, did I not tell you to watch these beans?’

did, ma’am, and its meself that did watch them ivery blissed «:
minute, and they never left the stove at all, at.all,” :

{ _ Maup Carrout,:

t A CHRISTIAN’S REVENGE, i ;

A burly fellow going along the street, met a Jew, distinguish:
ed, as his race is, and, as Napoleon said, all great. men are, by
the size of his proboscis. The burly fellow “bauled. off? and
struck the Jew on the nose, drawing “the claret,” and Knock-
ing him down. The offended party ‘‘picked himself up,’ and
asked his assailant what he did that for. +
| “Ah! he drawled out; “TU do it again, if youdon’t shut up.’?

“What for you strike me?” reiterated the Jew.

’ “Because,” said the ignorant bruiser, ‘you are one of the fel-
lows who killed my Saviour.” :

“But,” said the Jew, “Ididn’t. He was kilied more than
eighteen hundred years ago!” ;

ight ort care tor that,’’ was the reply; “J heard of it only last
night

‘ ODDS AND ENDS.

Our Dave, a veritable old “shell-back,” (a pet synonym for
oid sailors), and by the by as good a ftellow as ever existed, at’
his first guard duty in the mnlitary service, rather astonished
the sentinel (an old soldier) who “relieved? him, . Instead»
of “turning over” the usual orders, he “played out” in a rich
nautical style, the following: ‘Bear a hand, my hearty, and
take charge of this watch, and all government property in view. ‘
Keep your course due north and soutb—allow no lubbers to
cruise midsbip of the parade ground. After two bells, if any”
8 range craft cross your bows, hail them to heave to, and ii they
attempt to fill away, calPvp the corporal from down below.”

“Two WELL-KNOWN billiardists, while playing a game, had very‘
high words relative to a: disputed point, and asone of them bore
the reputation of being « duelist, outsiders imagined that the
matter would end serious'y. But though they “peeled” and
their eyes “wildly shot’? at each other, and their “ivories’”’
clashed together, the worse shot of the two took the “cue” and!
said that though he knew he was “game,” he’d rather “pocket”?
the intended insult than his rival’s balls. But if his opponent
pores in sheving and pushing him te the wall, before one of,

is cloth would allow a string to be ran on him, he would give
his.opponent asmall “discount” on a “home run,” and thus
make his point.

A RrouGH backwoodsman, about to send his Jad to the “eoun-
try store” to procure a well-known drug for a certain ailment
to prevent mistakes wrote the following on a slip of paper:—
“Mister, yu wil plese let mi boy hav ten sense wurth uf camp
fire, fur to kure me wf a bad kollig.” The clerk, atter having
attempted. but in vain, to make out what was required, with a
puzzled expression, handed to our humble self the paper, re-
marking, “I say, Jack, can you decipher these hieroglyphies??
After considerable groping, we came to the conelusion that the-
drug was camphor, which was wanted to remedy an attack of
the colic. After asmile and a hearty laugh, we unanimously
agreed that of all colics this was the worst spell of that disease
that had eyer come under our immediate notice.

Proper Dier ror Various C1assrs.—Seulptors, bear flesh;,
printers naturaliy take to anything that is fat; button holers,
wild boar; ill tempered folks, hasty puddings rich relatives, cold
shoulder; jockeys, saddies of yenison; bakers kneed many
loaves; dealers in anthracite, coal victuals; viragos, eatamount;
greenhorns, plenty of stuffing; jealous folks, blood pudding; IHe-
brews, all sorts of juicy food; darkeys, Ham. ONty ‘A Privare.:

A HALF PICTURE,

A green fellow, from the country, entered a photograph gal-
lery and asked the price of one picture.. He wastold fifty cents.
“Well,” said he, “as I only want ahalt-length picture can’t you
make one for a quarter.’ The artist hesitated a moment, and
then consented to take it for that, providing he was paid in ad-
yance. The sum was paid and the photographer made a half
length picture, from the’ waistband down, When the young
man observed this he refused to take the picture; but finall
reflecting that the joke was fair, as he had not stated which halt
he wanted taken, he paid twenty-five cents more and got a
good picture. IsAac T, H. Brown.

DISLIKED ANIMAL FOOD.

Asick man, who had commenced recovering, was tola by
his physician that he might now eat animal food, which had
been denied him in the early period of his illness. “You want
me to eat animal food!” exclaimed the sick man, in astonish-
ment. “I can’t doit. Ican eat gruel, but Icould never swal-
low oats and hay. Isuppose that’s what you mea» by animal
food.” Wn. Parks.

A DOCTOR HURT.

A young doctor who had just entered the profession, was one
day talking with a friend, and remarked that gentlemen of his
profession always obeyed one ¢ommand of the Bible. ‘What
one??? asked his friend. ‘Why, replied the doctor, “they
visit the sick.” “Oh!” observed. his friend, “but they disobey
one quite as weighty.” “And what may it be?” “The Bible
says: ‘Thou shalt not kill”? The doctor changed the subject
and spoke of the weather, Merrie NEADE,

CAUTION TO RAILROAD TRAVELERS.

A Yankee, who had been annoyed by the slow time made by
the trains on a certain Missouri railroad, said the general ticket
agent had the following p)inted on the margins of tickets: ‘‘Pas-
sengersinot allowed to get offto pick blackberries while going
down grade.” IP.

NO MUSIC IN HIS SOUL.

A number of Jake captains were assembled in a house in East
Saginaw, Mich., and were having ajolly time—drinking, telling
yarns, and singing. During the evening Captain John Collins
asked Captain Ladd to favor the company with asong. ‘What!
me sing!” exclaimed Ladd “Ican’t doit. There’s no music in
my soul, as you will acknowledge when I tell you that I once
lost a dog worth twenty dollars just because Icouldn’t whistle
for nim when Isaw him turning a corner.” Tom.

To P. P. Conrrisutors.—The following MSS, are, accepted:
‘Age of America; ‘Riddle; ‘Snipkins’ Ride; ‘A Refifsal;’ ‘Scar-
ing a Shoemaker,’ ‘Witticisms;’ ‘Sarah’s Duck,’ ‘“Humbugs;?
‘Ned Williams’ Spree,’ ‘Not for Sale.’.. ... The following are re-
spectfully declined: ‘Good Swimmer;? ‘Distillery; ‘Pickles?
‘Beauties of Titles; ‘Big Shoe; ‘I Fell Asleep:’ ‘Woman’s Rights;’
‘Who Discovered America;’ ‘Brevities” by A. €.; ‘Solomon
Wiseman’s ISpistie:’ ‘Irishman‘s Smoke Story,’ ‘Buying Cher-
ries; ‘Fat Hen, ‘Swore Offy ‘Big Words; ‘The Biters Bitten,’
‘Tantalizing;’ ‘Dolly’s Valentine; ‘Timid Lover Popping the
Question; ‘Pies;? ‘Old Jokes,’ by H. Hampton; ‘Observant Far-
mer;’ ‘A Winning Way;? ‘Old Funniments, by Ml. C. Fisk; ‘Very
Patriotic,’ ‘Still Another,’ The Victim of Fright) ‘Personal,’
‘Shavings;’? ‘Dead Grandmother;’ ‘Hot-bed Chickens;’ ‘Brass
Pand;’ ‘Winking Musketo;’ ‘Going to Heaven;’ ‘ind of, the
World;’ ‘Our Old Dog;’ ‘What He Wanted It For;’ ‘Don’t Throw
Them So Hard;’ ‘Just to Fool Him;’ ‘Our Eddie;’ ‘Soid;? ‘Poor
Fellow;’ ‘Too Poor; ‘Yah, Yah!’ ‘Rather Stingy; ‘Dirty Hands;’
Titles,’ by Segireh; ‘Death of the Firm; ‘Echo From La Belle
France; ‘Illustrated Epitaph; ‘Bursted His Breeches; ‘Dirty
Mouth,’ ‘Stolen Firecrackers;’ ‘Mixed Family; ‘Clam Digging;’
‘Tim and Pat,’ ‘Reading on His Plate,’ ‘Jimmy and Dan;’ ‘fhe
Saloon-Keeper Won't,’ ‘sparks;’ ‘Smart Boy.”

Ot
COMPLETE SETS OF “GUFFALO BILL,’?

The popular story of ‘‘BUFEALO BILL,” by Ned Buntline,
was commenced in No. 6, and concluded in No.17. The
cemplete set of twelve numbers will be furnished by any
news agent. Persons who are unable to obtain them from
news agents may Lave the papers supplied direct from
this office, for seventy-two cents. So great has been the
demand for ‘“‘BUFFALO BILL,” ever since the completion

f the story, that we have found it necessary to reprint all
the numbers in which it appeared. We give the above
particulars in response to numerous inquiries, that all de-
siring to read “BUFFALO BILL” may secure the back num-

?

 

Vers.

 

SE.

¢
sccnceenierer“teeuep citer sacsetens smiinaeiabee seer iS ee a

 

As thick as antsin a hill; ate

0

)

)

the arms of)

It is needless to say that services were over tor that day,the ©

Mrs. Harris had company to dinner one day, and left her ser- \

“Shuré an’ ye?

 

soni nie teeta tatavatn

rome pompiecnecinslganiein asin

 

 

 

F/I E

he ees WY

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

8

 

CENTRAL PARK.

 

 

BY MRS. M. A. KIDDER,

“You've made a mistake, little Robin,” I cried,
“You've made a mistake, my bird!”
And Robin, he answered me pert enough,
In many a musical word:
“You think I’ve forgotten my native vale,”*
He warbled like any lark,
“Because I’ve got three little speckled eggs
And a nest in Central Park.

“We birds have a mission work to do,

And we warble the whole day long

For the poor little ones from the city streets,
Who come here to iearn our song.

They never can smell the clover sweet
In their homes so damp and dark,

So we, birds, and flowers, and streams, and lakes,
Have made them a beautiful park.

“See! the flowers they do their best to grow,

And the grass springs fresh and green,

And the swans they sail o’er the glassy lakes,
The whitest that ever were seen;

And the children frolic, and romp, and play,
From the daylight until the dark—

The rich and poor, the high and low—
In our beautiful Central Park.”

THE SECOND COURTSHIP.

BY HELEN FORREST GRAVES.

 

 

 

The soft, hazy glow of early summer was in the air; the
white lili's, in the big, old-fashioned garden at Mordaunt
Grange, tossed their royal heads in the scented gale, and
the wild strawberries were beginning to crimson all the
slopes. A square, antique old house, with red-brick ga-
bles and sheets of glistening, green ivy, draping every
point aud angie, it seemed capacious enough for a host—
yet all the dweller it contained was George Medford.

The solitary Squire of Mordaunt Grange was walking
on his wn, under the feathery shadow of the drooping
elms, his cigar leaving a blue trail of scent and vapor
wherever he passed.

He was pasi thirty, tall and well-moulded, with bronze-
brown hair, hazel eyes, and a square-vut, kindly face—
not handsome, yet very pleasant to look upon.

At an early age he had been teft utterly dependent up-
on his own resources, At twenty, he had committed the
usual folly of youth—in failing madiy in love with a dark:
eyed girl, who had come to his native village, brimful of
New York airs and graces, visiting some school-friend—
and been scornfully rejected; and at twenty-one he had
gone to India to hew out his own fortunes.

Fortune, however, forestalied him; and when old
George Mordaunt, of Mordaunt Grange, died, and left all
his estates aud wealth to his young cousin, Medford
found the labor of his life completed, almost without an
effort on his part.

He was musing over all these things as he walked on
the daisy-spangled lawn at Mordaunt Grange, a rich man
and a solitary Man, and likewise a man afflicted with the
dure visitation of ennui.

“I suppose,’ he thought, “I must marry and settle
down, as other country gentiemen do, and build up a
home, and hopes, and aspirations for myself. I wonder,’’
and a dreamy, half-sad smile came over his face, “‘what
has become of Sophy Kneeland—pretty Sophy, with the
sparkling gray eyes and pink, satin cheeks, and hair that
always would twist itself into curis! I was very much in
Jove with Sopyy once. Well, soruns the world away! I
was poor and obscure then, and 1 am rich now, with the
prestige of Mordaunt Grange surrounding me; and Sophy
is married to some stock-broker, and wears her diamonds
and cashmere shawls.’’

Yet there was an unwonted softness in eve and face as
be remembered the light of those marvellous grey eyes,
which had been his beacon stars fur so long.

“I think,’ he pondered, “Sophy Kneeland did fancy me
after @ certain fashion; but she was a coquette, both by
nature and education. She was a city belle; 1 was noth-
ing but a raw, country youth. Weshould meet on more
even grouuds vow, If. ”

And then Mr. George Medford suddenly became aware
that in the earnestness of his reverie he had allowed his
cigar to go out.

AS he stoou there, leaning against the moss-covered
trunk of a huge cedar tree, older, by half a century, than
himself, with the picturesque gables of the porter’s lodge
rising out of a miniature thicket of dense-growing ever-
greens, just beyond, the savage growl of Leo, the huge
New foundlanu dog, sounded ominously on the air, and a
child’s cry of apprehension echoed it.

Medford stepped forward.

“Down, Leo,” he said, laying his hand on the dog’s col-
lar, and perceiving, at the same instant, an elfin-like
child, with great gray eyes, and hair blownjall about her
face, while upon one arm she Carried a covered basket.

“Are you the gentleman of this place?” she asked, still
eyeing Leo rather dubiously, as if she were not quite cer-
tain Whether pe might not yet break away from his re-
straipivg Chain, ;

‘Yes; fam,’’ Medford answered. ‘Did you wish to see
mre ??

She came frankly and freely toward him.

Please buy some of my shells,’? said sne. “My uncle
brought them trom Madagascar. We had them in a Cab-
inet before papa lost all :is money and died; and people
used to say how pretty they were. Will you buy some?”

To Mevford this was a novel style of soliciting patron-
age. She sat Gown on the sloping bank.

“Let me iook at them,’’ said he,

“You’re sure the dog won’t run at me again?’ she ask-
ed, somewhat irresolutely.

“Not while | am here.”?

As if reassured by this, she came to him, and, kneeling
On tie soit green grass at his feet, began to seek out her
little slLock 1m trade, and arrange it to the best advantage.

«Don't you see how pretty they are?’ she asked, triuim-

hantly.
’ Ste was right; the shells were exceedingly rare and
beautiful, gold-streaked, ana lipped with carmine and
pearly gray, and twisted into every possible variety of
conveiuted forms,

‘This 18 a trumpet shell,”? said the girl, lifting up one
rosy specimen, which was, in reality, not unlike along
and slender-throated bugle. ‘‘Uincle Daire used to say the
sea-nymphs used to Call their lovers back with them when
they sulied away over the sea.”

Medford smiled.

“And did they come?’?

The girl lifted her gray eyes wonderingly to his face.

“Bat you know that was only a story; there are no sea
nymphs or mermaids, These big shells are for a mantel;
they used to be in sister Sophy’s room.”

“}Tave you got a sister Sophy’ asked Meaford, idly
fingering the shells, more for the passing amusement of
the hour than for augnt else. ‘Does she Sell shells too???

“No,” sald bis strange liitle visiiant, setting her lips
demurely together. ‘Sister Soply is a lady; Lam noth-
ine buba liitie girl Sister Sophy doesn’t like to be stared
at—sbe would rather stay at home and sew."

“And where ure all the rest of you ?”?

“There is only Sophy andme. I wish,’? she added,
gravely, “you would buy these mantel shells; Sophy said
i i could sell them they would pay the month’s rent, and
buy new foss silk for her embroidery work.”’

“You area pretty good little saleswoman,” laughed
Medford. ‘Well, Pil bay the shells of you since you are
so anxious. How much are they ??

‘Five dollars a piece.’?

“Il am very much obliged to you,’’? said the little giri,
gravely, as she rose to go.

“But you tiaven’t told me your name yet,’ said Med-
forv, talf from real curiosity, half froma motive of teas-
ing banter, for the child’s odd, mature manner rather
@iuused him than otherwise.

“Alice Kneeland,’ she replied, with the utmost gravity.

He started up.

“Alice Kneeiand! And your sister’s name is Sophy?
Why, I knew a Sophy Kneeland once; but, pshaw! they
cau never be the same. The Miss Kneeland I used to
kuow lived in New York.”

“So did we once,” said Alice, “before we grew poor. I
can just remember the big house on Walton street, and
the open carriage Mamma used to ride in, with the pair of
bay horses,’?

“Where do you live??? abruptly demanded Medford.

“In the little cottage just beyond Dawson’s mill; you
know where 7

“But | amstranger here; I don’t know anything about
your mills and cottages. Willyou go with me and show
me whiere it is?”

“But the shells ?”?

“We will leave them here, with Leo to guard them.”

“Come, then,’? and Alice gravely took the stranger’s
hand.

Sophy Kneeland was sitting by the window, sewing as
swiftiy as if her shining needle had been endowed with
electricity, When, happening to glance up, she saw Alice
crossing the green in front of the humble little residence,
with a tall wan walking at her side.

“On, Sophy!’ frank little Alice cried out, with a ckild’s
blessed unconsciousness of embarrassment or etiquette,
“this is a gentleman Who Says he once knew you!’’

And Sophy Kneeland, without an instant for prepara-
tion or thougit, found herself controuted with her lover
of ten years ago.

He met her with a quiet cordiality, that at first some-
What puzzled her; but at Jength the scarlet dye subsided
from ner cheek, anu the flutter from her heart, and she
found herself answering bis questions, and soon volun-
teering little remarks of her own. And before he took his
leave, she had promised to allow him to come again.

“Asan old friend, you know,’ he said, Cheerily, and
Sopiy Kuceland assented.

“As au old friend.” But, when he was gone, she
caugit verself wondering how she could ever have been
mad enouvn to refase his love!

Six movths afterward, Little Alice, running on the ter-
Trace at Morduunt Grange, with her now faituful atrend-
ant Leo, at ner side, came suddenly on Sopby, standing
1b the bay window, with Mr. Medford at her side. Tne
Child Ghecked herself abruptly:

"Why, Sophy !? sne cried, ‘what makes your cheeks so
red?’

*Because,”? Mr. Medford answered for her, “I have just
asked ber an impertinent guestion 1?

“Aud did she reply to it?” asked Alice, with somewhat
of innocent wonder in her face,

“She bis not, as yet.v

 

 

Alice turned her eyes toward her sister, and Sophy took
courage. , ;
“T have not answered it yet; but I am quite ready to do
”

“And the answer?’ asked Medford.

“Is yes’?

“But,” eagerly questioned Alice, ‘‘what was the ques-
tion—please tell me.’’

“T asked her if she would be my wife, little Miss Inquis-
itive !’ laughed Medford.

“And she said ‘yes?’ ??

‘You heard her.”?

“Oh! cried Alice, clapping her hands, “how nice!
Then I shall have a real brother of my own!”

And Mordaunt Grange had a mistress at last.

THE BASKET-MAKER.

BY ROBERT F. GREELEY.
Fallen!

How coldly strikes the word upon the ears of the man
of the world, who, in the multifarious pursuits of a bust-
ling city, can find no time to consider the claims of the un-
fortunate, or to relieve their woes! With what a thrill it
comes to the heart of the dweller in districts remote from
the haunts of trade, whose ears can listen with eager in-
terest to the tale of the oppressed and forgaken!

In one of the quieter purlieus of San Francisco, not
many years since, the attention ofsthe passer was often
directed to a poor basket-maker, who busily plied his
cralt through the daylight hours, improving each mo-
ment by which he couldearn a dime, and carelessly sing-
ing, heedless apparently of the busy world that thronged
about him.

Ladies, arrayed in their flaunting silks and laces,
brushed flauntingly by, and youthful blades of fashion
would sometimes pause in mere wantonness, to pass a
jest with him at the expense of his wares; but he rarely
looked up, for by his side, with her taper fingers working
pliantly in and out among the meshes of osier, or gliding
to and fro like a sylph among the domestic appliances of
the half-screened apartment inthe rear, was always one
whose buxom presence fell like a ray of sunlight apon
the obscurity of nis surroundings, and rendered all outer
objects dull by contrast.

To all intents and purposes he might have been a ma-
chine, so quietly sat he there, twisting the osier twigs
into the various. shapes required by his art, and some-
times exchanging a merry thought with the fair com-
panion, whose blyther song betimes enlivened the qui-
etude of his shop.

But not so heedless were all who sauntered thither, and
many were the bright golden pieces which found their
way into the craftsman’s pucket from chance customers,
attracted by the display of his wares.

Spite of his coarse biue apron and homely attire, there
Was a nobility in this wwan’s features and bearing, as he
stood erect and confronted his patrons, which, combined
with a certain propriety of language, told of an origin
above his humble calling.

Ifhappiness unalloyed dwelt anywhere in this world of
sin and sorrow, it surely dwelt there; and, doubtless,
more than one occupant of a carriage, surrounded by the
accessories of wealth, sighed for the measureless content
observable in everything about the premises of the bas-
ket-maker.

Nevertheless, in the midst of this seeming content,there
came a time when those, whom business or pleasure led
in that direction, missed, from his accustomed post, the
worker in willow, and his pretty partner. Thescarlet ge-
raniums that had bloomed in the window ledges above
grew limp and faded, the stock of baskets and tasty wick-
er ornaments disappeared, and cobwebs grew thick in
the nooks and crevices.

For many days thereafter a poor, broken wretch was
seen to loiter about the public resorts of the city’s out-
skirts or the lower retreats of the Spanish quarter, seek-
ing to drown his cares in the poisoned bowl, whose pallid
face bore a resemblance to that of the missing artisan—a
story of ruin and desertion was interwoven for a brief
space with the undercurrent of public conversation. Then
he, too, vanished, and the waters of oblivion swept over
the locality ouce saved to the Zaves and penates of conju-
gal bliss.

The excitements attendant upon the earlier gold dis-
coveries subsided. San Francisco took on the guise of a
respectable, well-regulated city, like her. more-matured
cotemporaries and rivals. Meantime the civil war cast
its horrible shadow over the land, drawing thousands
away from their peaceable homes in the west. At its ter-
mination a scarred and weather-beaten soldier appeare

in the old haunts of: the basket-inaker, He had lost vi-
vacity, but the familiar stock miraculously sprang to life
upon the wails and shelves, and in his old seat sat Ethan
Blake, tucning off, with a painful awkwardness, the work
which had formerly emerged with such celerity from his
hands. Formerly remarkable for his affability, he now
wasted few words upon any one, and, having consum-
mated a bargain, would seat himself again with the same
lethargic look ae soft, dark eyes, and every indication
that the world about him had passed from his thoughts.

But one day there came tothe stand of this poor basket-
maker a visitant, at the mere sound of whose voice the
workmian’s whole manner underwent achange. It was
only a little child, who had broken from her nurse, in pur-
suit of a hoop she had been trundling upon the sidewalk,
and which, as thongh directed by fate, had rolled into his
shop. Yet at the sound of that infantile voice, the artizan
threw down his implements and sprang from his seat,
like one awaking fron a dream; and before the nurse
could reach the spot he’ had caught the tiny being to his
heart, and covered her fair face with kisses.

Affrighted by the suddenness of the gesture, the child
uttered a scream, and struggled to be set down; when,
the nurse arriving, the errant hoop was recovered and
the infant torn rudely from the manful arms that encir-
cled her.

The basket-maker took two or three rapid strides in his
circumscribed workshop, over which thé darkness of
night appeared to have settled. He seemed to be en-
deavoring to curb an outburst of feeling, but some secret
spring had been stirred within him, and the attempt was
@ vain one.

“It is fatality,’ he muttered, “This could never have
come of accident. Why do we, wretched, inefficient be-
ings that we are, shape and plan, as we fondly deem,
for ourselves, fashioning by night the deeds we enact by
day, when an untoward destiny is ever at hand to per-
vert our high hopes to its ends?”?

An uncontrollable impulse suddenly seized him. He
took his cap, and, without pausing to fasten the door,
hurried down the street in the direction taken by the
nurse and child.

In the home to which these latter betook themselves
there were no evidences of that poverty which prevailed
in the comfortless and uninviting apartments of the hard-
working mechanic. A luxurious dwelling, surrounded
by all the evidences of thrift, offered a striking contrast
to the ricketty tenement of which the basket-maker was
the sole occupant.

Thelatter had paused at some distance, but near
enough to discover the features of a beautiful and ele-
gantly aitired lady, who cametothe doorand caught
the child in her arms, as he had done but a few minutes
before.

For an instant his brow lost its gloomy aspect—a glow
of mingled recognition and pleasure beamed from his
eyes—with arms wide extendéd he was rushing to join
the little group, when a tall, maniy figure appeared by
the side of the lady.

The mechanic staggered backward a step, ane then,
striking his breast, as if to repress asudden pain, strode
back to his shop, that had now became his lair.

Yes! for in that narrow den he no longer sang and la-
bored as ofold, and he was still less inclined to do so
now. His neighbors wondered at and avoided the soli-
tary man; and even the children, with that readiness
which the great worid manifests in trampling upon the
footsore and sick at heart, hurled nicknames at the poor
artisan.

Again the passers missed the basket-maker. His little
shop was closed, and on the shutter was a small placard,
bearing the talismanic words “‘to let.’’

For many nights thereafter a lonely, muffled figure
watched at a distance the shadows thrown by the flicker-
ing lights upon the window curtains of the mansion of
opulence. It was rumored that all was not so fair and
full of content within those walls as might have been
supposed. The sound of blows and the cries of an im-
ploring female voice were often heard at night, and then
the house was deserted. The “husband,” for such the re-
lation in which he appeared to stand toward the doting
mother—lad abruptly fled, leaving a note of farewell,
and a small sum of money to cover his heinous sin. Both
mother and child had vanished.

The poor creature took humble lodgings, and sought to
maintain herself by some employment best adapted to
woman’s skill. From time to time a gift would come
from some anonymous source, which enabled her the
more easily to bear the poverty that had fallen to her lot.
The remittance always came in a close envelope, without
line or signature, and was attributed. by her invariably
to the deserter, although the superscription was in a
strange handwriting.

At length appeared some signs of relenting fate. The
usual package, just one year from the date of the first,
contained @ quadrupled sum, and the intimation that if
tue recipient desired, she might meet and be reconciled
once more to tire writer.

At the hour appointed, on a moonlit night in midsum-
mer, two persous of opposite sexes approached each
other on the bridge that leads to the Potrero from the
south beach—but recently deserted by the animated
crowds who on pleasant evenings make that locality their
favorite walk—tie female leading the cbilad.

The man exlbited the greater eagerness of the two,
but, being wrapped in a cloak, was not at once recognized.

As they encountered, the woman exclaimed: ‘At last,
then, Cecil, dear Cecil ?”

Then, aS the mantie fell from the shoulders of the man,
revealing the pallid features of the baskKet-maker, pow
oistorted by coutending emotions, she uttered a terrifled
ery, and, turning, fled precipitately with her child.

She fled, but not so quickly but that her companion
overtook her.

Winding one siiewy arm about her waist, he dragged
her to the verge,

A splash, a struggle in the water, the screams of a ter-
rifled child, aud two life dramas had come tua sudden
endl

 

 

———_—__>-0~+___

Two New Srorizs Next WeeK.—In the Next Number of the
New York WEEKLY two New Stories will be commenced—one
by Annigc Asumors, entilieJ, “THe D1amonp CoLLar, or, THE
BisHop’s Dest;"’ and another charming Story of English Socie-

 

ty, which will be especially pleasing to our lady readers.

 

 

POTTER’S FIELN.

 

BY NATHAN D. URNER.

 

I stood alone, as in an evil charm,
On Pottér’s field,

Whilst Day, in dying, raised with feeble arm
His bloody shield--

I stood alone, filled with a nameless dread,

Lest from that charnel of the nameless dead
Should start, revealed,

Wraiths of the wretched, clamoring for stones

To stare to Heaven the protest of their benes!

On either side the broad and sweliing stream
Ablution poured;

Glinting its white wing in the dying beam,
A sea-gull soared;

And the great city, far away, was bright,

Its stately spires all sceptered by the light
Which decked and floored

Half the wide earth with silver, and the sea

With a red mantle floating far and free.

I gazed upen these beauties, but around
The shadows fell,
And seemed upon that dark and dismal ground
Alone to dwell,
Making a catafalque of blackness there,
Ringed by a universe of radiant air,
High Heaven to tell
Of woes unnumbered groaning from the sed
For vengeance from an all-avenging God.

Tier upon tier teneath my trembling tread—
Uncoffined most—
Trenched in foul sepulture, dead stacked on dead,
The ghastly host
I knew were lying; and even as I thought
a=

“|

“N)

 

-
| Ah} }
ARLENE Hy

Another cold. and nameless form was brought—
, Another ghost,

To swell the mob that hourly haunt the air

With the dull terror of their own despair.

By visions vague, that swift before me passed,
There seemed revealed

The steps which led these hapless ones at last
To Potter's Field.

I saw, beyond the never restful sea,

Fair maids, and children at the parent's knee,
Whose looks appealed

In vain to Nature, niggard of her bread;

And yoemen tall, of quick and nervous tread.

Isaw them trust their fortunes to the deep—
The passage dark

Of ernel blows,disease, the dungeon-keep
Of the foul bark—

The pale arrival, then the hospital,

And then, without a prayer, without a pail,
The body stark;

No friend to sigh, nor pitying tear to yield;

And then--the peopled pits of Potter’s Fieid!

Isaw the wine cup flashing in the light
Of banquet halls,

Then, sailing on, a swamp-gleam to the bright
Young Bacchanals—

On through the reeking, feetor-breeding street,

Followed by blood-shot eyes and reeling feet,
And tipsy calls—

On to the depths of life and truth congealed—

On to the catacombs of Potter’s Field!

Isaw the red hand of the coward world
Clutch and drag down

The fallen angel—heard her shriek, as hurled
To float or drown,

 

The rushing black-tide swept her to the sea,
Away, afar, ont to her infamy—

Saw her go down—
The swirling body by the dawn revealed—
The death-choked sepulchres of Potter’s Field!

I thonght of the green, quiet church-yard where
My loved ones sleep—
Of the sweet tablets kissed by every air,
Where willows weep;
Where the warm sunshine slants along the sward,
And every bird-song prays the gentle Lord
Their souls to keep;
And zepbyrs rifle all the forest naves
For sweets to scatter on the iowly graves.
I turned, despairing, from that giant tomb
Where myriads are,
When, glancing upward, from the deepening gloom
There burst a star.

 

ff
Y

 

Hope on, hope ever! In succession bright—

Star after star—througnh all the peaceful night
They throbbed afar;

And the full moon, of broad, unclouded shield,

In tranquil pity smiled en Potter's Field.

—_———_ > e+

AS IT MIGHT BE.

BY FAITH FAIRLEIGH.

 

 

‘‘When evil crawls below,
What seemsso pure and fair?
Thine eyes, if keen and true,
Would find the serpent there.”

‘How lovely !”’—‘‘Beautiful !’"—*Celestial !’ were the
exclamations murmured through the room, as Mabel
Courtland advanced, leaning on the arm of a distinguish-
ed-looking man, and took her place at the head of the
quadrille just forming. All eyes were bent admiringly
on her as she glided through the dance, her every move-
ment the perfection of dignity and grace.

*“Fool! dolt | idiot! that I was, to lose such a glorious
prize. She might have been mine—that peerless crea-
ture,” thought Howard Lester; and from the beautiful,
queenly Mabel his eyes turned to the little woman leaning
on his arm.

The plain, insignificant-looking little woman was How-
ard Lester’s wife; and, certainly, in comparison with Ma-
bel Courtland she appeared to greater disadvantage, that
gala night, and one would wonder that the handsome,
fastidious Lester could have sought out and won that
girl, when we know he might have found many, seem-
ingly, better suited to him. But in the quiet hoxe-circle,
the timid, gentle, loving Louise is known and appreci-
ated, and there it was that her many virtues grew upon
the mind and heart of Howard Lester, until he, like all
who loved her, thought her really very pretty; and, in a
fit of pique and jealousy, he withdrew from the society of
the brillant Mabel and sought the home of Louise.

Never were two women more unalike, and the very
novelty of the change lield him well pleased, until little
Louise, with her earnest, thoughtful manner, drove from
his heart all wish to win the beautiful Mabel, whose van-
ity and insolence had driven him from her.

Two years had passed since his marriage, and never,
during that time, had Howard seen Mabel. She had been
traveling in Europe, and the night of her first appear-
ance in company, after her retusn, won for her the ex-
clamations we have heard.

Far more beautiful than when he saw her last was Ma-
bel, and, when Howard Lester beheld her the “admired
of all admirers,” he felt a momentary pang of regret that
he had not won her.

An hour afterward she came to him, and, with perfect
ease and kind familiarity, said, holding out her hand:

“You see, I have come to claim an old friend, Mr. Les-
ter, and hope to be rewarded by securing é2o,’’ and she
Smiled bewitchingly as Howard presented his wife.

When, a few moments after, Louise saw her husband

carry off the beautiful woman to the dance, she was
proud to hear his name coupled with hers in words of
admiration.
Louise’s true heart never for an instant felt a doubt of
his love, and when the dance was over, and Mabel re-
turned with Howard to her side, and, rejecting a suitor
for the next dance, she sank to a seat by her, saying. “she
was tired, and would sooner remain with them, the
guileless little Louise was perfectly charmed with her
kind, cordial manner.

Later in the evening, Mabel complained of eames
and when Howard carried her off to the conservatory,
and remained so long away, then the little wife began to
wish he would come back. She, too, was tired, and
wanted to return home to the little one waiting for her.

Still he came not, and at length Louise felt sorry that
any one could make him forgetful not of his wife, but of
his boy, from whom they were remaining so long.

Weary with watching and waiting, she sank into a
lounging chair, almost hidden by the heavy draperies of
the windows, from which she was presently aroused by
hearing her husband’s name:

“Why she did not marry him when she could I cannot
imagine! Everybody knows how much he was in love
with her. I declare it is a shame, they should be going
on so now, and his poor wife, (poor thing) here too.”
Further behind the curtains Louise sank as these words
reached her ears; and her poor heart ached then, for the
first time in her married life.

“Any body can see he likes her yet! What a splendid
looking couple they would have made; really they seem
intended for each other. I do wonder what it was that
Separated them? And I wonder move, how he came to
marry that plain-looking girl?”

Another sharper pang to the already sorely-tried heart,
and then, when the speakers moved siowly off, she
strained her eyes again and saw them coming, She, with
her eyes so dark and bright raised to his—and he gazing
down into their beauty, with an expression of the great-
est admiration. Louise had sufficient cause to feel very,
very miserable, she thought.

“re you tired? I had no idea it was so late,” said How-
ard.

“You must excuse bim, dear Mrs. Lester,I am to
blame, We have been talking over old times, and we are
prone to forget the present duties in moments of past
pleasures and follies too,’? she added, in a lower tone to
Heward. But Louise’s keen ear caught it, and had a
donbt of the truth of the remarks that she had heard a
few moments before, lingered ‘in her mind—Mabel’s
words would have banished it. ;
From that night, Louise’s power to make her husband
happy at home was lost. Every evening a party or opera
would call him out; and when Leuise, thinking sie was
neglecting her babe by frequent absenée, pleaded ‘to re-
main with it; Howard would very readily consent; and

 

indeed, sometimes she thought he seemed better pleased
to have it so.

There was no mistaking or denying the fact, Louise
was very uphappy, and with good cause—and Howard
saw it and felt how wrong ke was; but he could not or
would not break from the web that the heartless woman
was weaving around him.

One night he heard his poor little wife sobbing so pite-
ously in her sleep, that his heart smote him very much
when she moaned:

 

“Please, Howard, stay home, just once more!’? And
again, in such atone of anguish, she pleaded: “Don’t
hate me, Howard—I will go away; J amso plain, and she
so beautiful!”

“Poor child! 1am a brute to neglect her! I must stop
it. Lam bound to her, and must make the best of it,’ he
said, and he thought he would remain home the next
evening, and try to soothe the troubled heart whose hap-
piness or misery he knew was in his keeping.

The next morning, when Howard regarded his wife
with more interest than he had for many weeks, he was
surprised and shocked to note the great change in her
young face during those days and nights of doubt, anxie-
ty, and misery. Yes, he determined to hurry home, and
remained that evening—but—oh! why will not men open
their hearts and let in the goed angel that is pleading so
earnestly foran entrance? Why will they not listen to
the whispers of their better nature? Why comes not their
awakening until itis too late? when the angel of love
and peace has fied, affrighted from the wreck of sundered
hearts and broken homes?

“J will certainly be home to dinner at five, and remain.
I’m tired of so much dissipation, little wife, and we will
have one quiet, happy evening at home. Good-by!’ and
he went up to kiss the babe, then pressed his lips to
Louise’s. and made her so happy for a little while.

Five o'clock, six, anc nearly seven was pointed by the
little alabaster timepiece before Howard reached home,
and then to find Louise gones

From the cook he could obtain but little satisfaction.
She was in avery bad humor. First, because she had
noticed Howard’s neglect of his wife, and her unhappi-
ness from it. And more particularly, on her own ac-
count, as his failure to return at the appointed hour had
not only resulted in the dinner being quite spoiled by
waiting, but she had been kept at home when she might
have been at the theater, in all the glory of an opera cloak,
fan, and lorgnette, borrowed from her mistress’ ward-
robe, when she knew she should have the field clear by
Louise’s absence.

In vain Howard sought an explanation from Norah.
All he knew was that Louise was gone. And, from a lit-
tle hasty note found on the bureau, hie read:

“T have watched and waited for your coming until half-
past six. Now I must go. » Norah will explain. ;
“ LOUISE.’

But Norah wouldn’t if she could; and Howard threw
himself down on the sofa to wait his wife’s return, or to
hear something from some one about her absence.

He had met Mabel, and she had carried him off to visit
a collection of paintings. That had caused slong delay.

Eight, and nine o’clock came, but not Louise.

Gone! Where? And why?

Her words or dreams, the night before, came back to
his mind. And his heart was. filled with regrets and
anxiety.

Still the hours rolled by, and she came not.

Inthe morning he sought herin vain, but the pitiful
little babe, motherless, he found with Louise’s parents,
but she was gone. Where, no one seemed to know.

After many days of agonizing suspense, she was found
in a neighboring city, wandering, a hopeless lunatic. A
few months more anu she passed from earth.

In real sorrow and remorse Howard Lester spent the
time after Louise’s death, until Mabel came to him. Gra-
dually he yielded to ber fascinating power, until again,
as in the past, he was ever near her. Again he loved her,
and she at last returned it, and was his. His, that
bright, beautiful creature that he had so nearly lost for
ever,

A few weeks of happiness, and slowly the scales fell
from the eyes of Howard Lester, and retribution began
her speedy work. The heartless, unprincipled girl was
the same as a wife. She flirted with other men then, as
she had with Howard. And bis gentle, loving, loyal wife
had suffered and died from his neglect, and now he was
sipping bitterly of her cup of anguish—ay, draining it to
the very bottom.

A little longer and the tongue of scandal was whisper-
ing the name that never before had been shadowed by a
thought that was not pure and true.

in deep mortification, be remonstrated, and plead with
her against ber impruvence,

“Can you not be satisfied with the
heart, Mabel ?”’ he asked.

“Were you satisfied with the devotion of one heart?’
she asked, in return, Jooking mto his lace, the features of
which were convolsed by the memory of the cruel pust,
the vail of which she had so rathlessly torn aside, and
then stood trinmphipg in his misery.

devotion of one

 

“Ha, ha, ha! We wiil not recriminate, my dear; and

 

 

ma

<a THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. ¢2=-

 

i

 

 

—L

let me beg of you to make yourself as ha $s you can—
‘Life is too short to be sighing,’ ¥ she eae and, with a
insolent air, said: “Aw revoir! I have an engugement
for the opera, with Colonel Atherton——" "

“Curse him !’’ he exclaimed,

And she, with a mocking smile, answered:

“He considered himself blessed with my—

“Qease your heartless, shameless taunts! For the pro-
tection of a name, the honor of which is rendered dearer
having been borne by one so pure and true, I will Hee
that you have no further opportunity to hold itsonghtly,
You shall not leave this reom tonight,” 1

€ Sprang up, cuught the wom i
= oer tigntly in his arms, ee fee
udly he gazed upon her—drew h ’
burning gas, and then cried out: ee
“Louise! Here! Alive! Thank Heaven!
ling! I've bags terrible dream!) .
es, it was alladream. Waiting for her
fallen asleep. ee O°k Woman he Oa

“But you have been away. I founda your note!

“Yes, | was so frightened, and in guen haste; 1 told
Norah to tell you. Father was taken suddenly and dun-
gerously 111, and Mamma sent Harry to bring me imme-
diately, He is much better now. [have only been iy a
few moments. Harry came back with me, and has jost
gone. Were you anxious?’ she asked, with a happy
smile, conscious that a blessed change had come over her
husband,

“Indeed I was! Norah was cross, and would tell me
nothivg at all,’

It was a fearful dream, but so vivid that Howard Lester
shuddered when his thoughts returned again to that ter-
rible vision of what it might be.

The change was decided, and forever.

Mabel Courtland had no longer the power to keep bin
from his home, and the true, loving wife who was eyer
Waiting with @ smile to welcome his coming.

And the deep thankfulness and pure joy that fills the
wife’s heart shines forth, illaming her sweet face, guiemg
her actions, and making her every year dearer to her
husband, to whom ste is now more beautiful than aay.
womun he has ever seen, for he knows her's is a beauty
that can never fade, but will wax purer and brignter, us
they grow old together.

Oh my dar-

 

>~oe~<~+ —___-—

MISS PENELOPE’S JOURNEY.

BY HELENA DIXON,

 

“It's an awful undertaking, I know, but one that I’ve
got to go through with il it don’t leave mor’n the breath
of life in my body. The blood of the Underhilis Nows in
that girl’s veins, and she shan't throw herseliaway by
marrying any white-livered city chap. Just as sure as
she does, not a dollar shall she ever have of mine. Mercy
knows how I|’m going to stand the journey and the racket
of the cars, when the cow-bells over in the wood-lot al-
most sets me crazy. But l’nf bent and bound to go to
Wheeling and put astop to their silly courting and bring
Stella home.”

And Miss Penelope Underhill crowded her brown bom-
bazine dress into a corner of her trunk with a gesture of
impatience.

“There, that’s all the clothes I mean to be pestered with,
apd they’re plenty good enough, too, though I s‘pose
Tilda’s folks are mighty stuck up. Tilda always was
proud as Lucifer, and I'd just as lief bring her pride down
apegasnot. It’s her work fast enough, setting Stella up
to fall inlove and promise herself to that jack-a-dandy
that Ill be bound don’t know pumpkins from carots.”
Miss Penelope, alone and with a strangely bewildered
air, took her seat in the cars en-route for Wheeling.

She was a sharp-featured, diminutive body, with eyes
black as night, and hair to match, but—“tell it not in
Gath’’—the hair was false. The little lady was fifty, and
yet had never before seen the inside of a railroad car.
Before taking her seat she had eyed each of the pasgen-
gers critically, as though she suspected every one of being
a pickpocket or a cannibal.

With a firm grasp on that portion of her dress where
her pocket was located, she selected the hindmost seat,
as there she thought she would have the best opportunity
of keeping her eyes on everybody. She settled herself
comfortably in her seat and arranged her bandbox and
luncheon basket beside her to keep out intruders. In her
lap she held a huge bundle containing bottles and boxes
of various shapes and sizes. Camphor, cologne, lauda-
num, peppermint lozenges, and general apothecary stores
enough to supply a traveling physician.

Evidently Miss Penelope expected a railroad disaster of
no small magnitude, or that her own physical organiza-
tion was golnug to sulfer an attack of all the ills that flesh
1s heir to.

Miss Penelope traveled all day and through the long
night without leaving tne car.

An elderly gentleman with gold spectacles seemed
greatly interested in her comfort.

Penelope always knew she possessed attractions. and
she admired the taste the gentleman evinced in selectiug
herself as the object of his polite attentions. He shaded
the window for her, and gave her a magazine to read,
pot vmitting to point out the most interesting articie,
How well he understood and appreciated her literary
taste, and Penelope quite forgot her fears of the pick-
pockets in her interest in the. periodical.

in return for his thoughtfulness Penelope pressed upon
the gentleman a sliare of her jelly-cake and sandwiches,
and when he leaned his head agaist the back of ber
seat, and complained ofa violent headache, her bundie
of medicine was instantly untied and tire camphor boitie
uncorked and thrust without ceremony under nis nose,

“There was nothing equal to good strong camphor,’
the lady insisted, ‘for all kinds of headache, and she was

 

 

proper glad she’d brought it along. She knew her medci-
cine would come handy. Probably she’d been sick her-
seifif she hadn’t had different kinds to smell of.”

All through the long night Miss Penelope never closed
her eyes to sleep. She would not trust herself to do.that,

 

even though her new acquaintance was constantly neur
to protect her, Yet ever and anon hier eyelids grew heavy,
and to dispel her feeling of drowsiness her bottie of harts-
horn and tortoise-sheil snufi-box were alternately kept in
her hand. ;

It was with unbounded satisfaction that our traveler at
length saw the landscape appearing under the light of
approaching day.

 

Soon they reached a station where it was necessary for
Penelope to change cars.

Frightened nearly out of her senses by the bustle and
contusion around her, with her head all ina whirl of be:
wilderment, her eyes roved over the crowd in anxious
search for her obliging fellow-traveler, but he was no
where to beseen. The cars would start in a few minutes
and Penelope had not yet procured a ticket. She elbowed
her way aS rapidly as possible to the ticket-office and
plunged her hand into the depths of her pocket for her
purse. But, alas, for Penelope, there was no purse there.
Too perplexed and frightened to think clearly she stood
silent and irresolute in tue midst of the jostiing throng,
her great black eyes wandering from face to face,in mute
appeal for counsel and sympatiy.

A tall, manly form was advancing toward her, and Pe-
nelope’s heart took courage at what she called the “hu-
man look” in his handsome face.

ae she in trouble? And could hedo anything for
her ??*

 

Quickly Penelope told him her story, only reserving
the cause of her journey. :

The young man wasalso going to Wheeling. He would
procure a ticket for her with pleasure, and se@ that she
met with no mishap during the remainder of Ker journeyo™

The lady was conducted to a seat on the shady side of the
cars, and the young man took one near her. How hance
some and noble-looking Penelope thought him, i only
Stella had made clioice of such a man instead of the
dandy she had engaged to marry—but whom she never
should marry—now she could have epened her motherly
heart to him, for motherly it was, albiet she was only a
stern old maid. He was just the opposite of Stella. too,
and Penelope firmly believed chat opposites, both in looks
and disposition, make the happiest marrivges, Steila
was @ sprighily little fairy, with blue eves anid golden
hair, always smiling and happy, never allowing heiseif to
feel a care; while the youpg man before her was grave
and dignified. His lair was black and carly, lis eyes aiso
the color of Penelope’s own. Then there was an air of
culture and refinement about bim which quite captivated
the ancient spinster, and she straightway resulved, spite
of every obstacle, to bring about a marriage between him
and her neice.

He discoursed so familiarly, too, of the country and its
productions that Penelope was sure he could manage a
farm as well as the smartest of her rural neighbors, Long
before she reached her destination she had told bimoalt”
about her family and friends, and Stella in particalar.
She alluded also to her engagement, and her de:ermina-
tion to break the same, and hinted that she should have
no Objection to his takiny the seon-to-be-discarded lovers

man good-by, after exacting from hin a promise thar ue
would visit ber at “Tilda Budlong’s and get acquainied
with her pretty niece.”

“It’s no use, Stella, I’ve come all the way from Sehool-
crait, and been robbed by pickpockets, and went forty-
eight hours without a wink of sleep, a purpose to put a
stop to that city chap’s courting you, and [mean todo it.
Besides that other fellow I toid you about—a real geutie-
man he is, too, and handsome to boot—is coming to-day
on purpose tosee you.”

‘“‘But, auptie, wait till you see Philip Ennest

“I don’t want to see him, and, what’s more, I don’t
mean to see him either. He mustn’t show his bleached-
out face around here while I stay, and when [ go back I
shall take you with me, You may depend on that.”

“QO, Aunt Pen |——”

Stella was interropfed again—this time by the en-
trance of a servant, who ushered in Miss Penelope’s
young friend of the railway Cars.

Stella sprang from the low stool on which she had been
sitting, and a joyous flush saffused her faee. Miss Penel-
ope arose also,

“Walk rignt in, and make yourself to home. I’m prop-
er glad to see you. Stella, hand outacnair.”? said she,
unceremoniously, While, in the Same moment, Srella ran
forward, though tiumidiy, as though uuder some restraint,
exclaiming:

“0. Philip! And to think we d'dn’t Know you had re-
turned to Wheeling ! When did you arrive?”

Pirilip Ennest smiled cnrionsly, and right before the as-
tonished gaze of prim Miss Penelope, he encircled thie lit-
te sprite in bis arms, and led her to the bay-windobw,
where be could have her all to himself.

Penelope saw at once how It was, and was glad that,
afier all, there was no jover to be discarded in order that
her niece might become the wife of the man she had cho-
sen for her,

bh

 

 

 

 

 

—ncif

ent a

place. Arrived. at Wheeling, Penelope bade the rn