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Forres

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
     
 

 

VOL. XXX,

Proprietors.

STREET & SMITH { No
P.O .

  
 

Us

ne

q “ai i
me:

$$$

Zing to Act of Congress, tn the Year 185, by Street & Sm

 

tn the Office of the Livrarian of Conoress, Washington, D, CG

 

  
 
 
   

 

 

 

 

 

 

NEW YORK, MARCH 1, 1875.

 

casos mane

Three Dollars Per Year. i ctemces S. STREET.
Two Copies Five Dollars.

SLLVER WING!”

 

No. 17.

FRANCIS S. SMITH,

 

THE ANGEL OF THE TRIBES.

CHAPTER I.

A young mother, blue-eyed and very fair, stood in
an attitude of statuesque uty above the cradie of
her heart’s deepest love—her first-born babe. Like
a gaze of idulatry, her look was fixed on its lovel
face, and her own bright curls fell amid the so
treasures of its gold-hued hair as she lowered her
red lips to its white brow.

A hand, heavy and rude, touched her shoulder.
A chill as of an icy wind reached to her heartas she
straightened on her feet.

A ghastly pallor followed the joy-flush on her face
as her eye fell on a countenance dark, sullen an
forbidding; on eyes black as jet, hot with a fierce
fire, which could not be mistaken—the deadly fire of
hate; on a form tall and shapely, a model of strength
and manly beauty.

“‘Mary—I am here! Breathe a loud word, utter
one cry to alarm others, and I will brain that babe—
his babe—in its cradle!”

 

She trembled from head to foot, gasping for breath,
in ber wild terror, but she did mot speak. His look
told that he wouid not shrink from murder—even
from taking the life of her babe. {

He spoke in.

“Mary, I tofd you in my hour ét misery, when you
refused my hand for his, that you had made a life-
long enemy. That I would darken all your life. You
wept and prayed that I would not harm him. That |
would be folly, for time would heal his loss. I shall |
strike a heavier blow.” And he bent his glance, al)
tull of bitter hate, down on the sleeping child.

“Oh! do. not harm. my babe! my darling Anna!’ ;
she gasped.
|

 

‘‘Hush, woman! hush! You have kissed it for the
aa Henceforth it is mine—mine to rear as I
will!’

|

He hurled the young mother back from the cradle, |

and, seizing the child, sprang through an open case- |
ment into a garden, and while the mother’s wild |
scream of agonized despair rang through the house,
he disappeared with the babe.

A second cry! It was the wail of a breaking
heart, and Mary Temple fell senseless to the floor.

A few seconds later, and a man of middle age, no-
ble in face and form, rushed in, followed by a boy of

He saw the fallen form, and, rushing to her side,
raised her. As he did so, his white vest was delug-
ed with the blood which gushed in a torrent from
her mouth!

“A blood-vessel is broken!” he cried. ‘Run, Ed-
gar—run for Doctor Campbell! Call servants! Run

tor dear life, my son!”

The little boy ran to obey the order, and the man
pressed his handkerchief to her lips to check the
blood. Alas! he soon saw it would stifle her to do
that.

Servants rushed in, wild with alarm, water was
brought, and quickly the doctor came.

He brought no hope. A large artery had been
ruptured; she was dying. He quickly gave a stimu-
lant—it was all that he could do—to retain life
enough to learn, if possible, how this occurred.

She became conscious. Her eyes opened on the
fond face of her husband, then wandered away to
the empty cradle.

“Gone! gone! gone!” she ed.

“Our child? Our Anna?” cried the man.
in the name of Heaven, is our child?”

“The fiend, Wesley Tilmaine, snatched it away be-
fore my eyes!” she faintly whispered. “Oh save it
—save it from his cruel hands!”

‘Loved one—I will never rest till our Anna is res-
cued!” he answered. “Oh live, my angel wife—live
until I can bring her back to you!”

“We will meet in—Heaven—dear one!”

She never spoke again. The red blood ran faster
for a moment-—she seemed to choke with it. Then
a@ quivering gasp—and she was dead!

ee * + * * * t
FIFTEEN YEARS LATER!

Another picture. An old man dying. Not on the
red battle-field; not on the bleak, treeless plain; not
on the snow-wreathed mountain-crest; not in the
hot, close air of squalid misery, but ina lofty cham-
ber, furnished grandly, and adorned with gems of
art.

His hair and beard, flowing over his neck and
shoulders and down upon his breast, were white as
snow; white as the brow and cheek paling under the
frost of death.

He was thin in face and form to attenuation—so
thin that every bone about his wan face and corded
neck seemed ready to start through the transparent
skin. Each vein, blue as indigo, could be traced in
its course. His eyes alone, large, unnaturally bright;
blue asthe deep, dark sea, gave token of the life-
ne now striving with the encroaching tide of
death.

By the bedside stood a young man, tall and com-
manding in form and face, with eyes and features so
like him who lay there, that one could not err in say-
ing they were father and son.

“*Kdgar!” gasped the old man in a low, faint tone
“Tt must perish with my vow to her uncompleted. Had
I fulfilled it, and brought my lost child beneath this
roof, I could now join my Mary in Heaven without a
sigh; for I am weary, very weary of life. There is
&@ weight on my soul, a cloud on my spirit. You, my
son, can lighten the one and lessen the other!”

“How, dear father? How?”

The young man’s voice was like a sob when he
asked the question.

‘‘By a promise which, made in this solemn hour,
when I am dying, I: know you will keep—a promise
hard to exact from one fresh on the tide of ambitious
life, with millions to control, and pleasure openii
on every hand, But I cannot die in peace unless it
is made!”

“Father, I- promise, even before I know what. will
be exacted. To me, ever all goodness, your wishes
are sacred. Have I not lived a life of comfort, while
you have worn your very life away in the object not
ae attained—dared every danger, borne every

ardship, taced the extremes of every clime. Name
your wish, and if I die in carrying out your last de-
sire, I will die content!”

“Edgar, you are true and dutiful. Last of my
raec, while I leave you a bountiful heritage, I also

“Where,

 

 

 

six or seven years. |

 

  

nr rena

 

v

bequeath a sacred duty. The enemy of my life; the
destroyer of my lost Mary, yet lives! I feelit in this
my dying hour, and he enjoys a triumph. He has
foiled my every effort to reach him and rescue Anna,
the lost jewel of my last wedded love! Stolen by
him from her mother’s side while you were yet too
young——”

“Not too young to remember the pretty baby, my
half-sister, father !”

“Well, it is better than I hoped, for itis love which
makes memory lasting. Do not interrupt me now,
for I feel that my moments are numbered, and but
few are left. That enemy hath borne the child, now
grown almost to womanhood, if she yet lives, from
land to land to escape my hot pursuit, until, finally,
in crossing the Southern Sea, I lost the traee.

‘He hath, from time to time, sent taunting letters
to madden my soul. Ihave not only kept each let-
ter, but a journal of all my wanderings, a record of
every clew, by which I hoped'to find him. These will
aid you in carrying out my last desire! Now listen
to my wish, and as you love me {fulfill it!”

“J will, my father; I will!”

“Tt is this: Go forth asI have gone, in search of
our lost Anna, She is your own half-sister, and the
strange mystery of blood will, with electric heat,
draw you toward her if you ever meet. There is a
mark—a birth-mark—by which she may be recog-
nized. A purple crescent on her left arm, near the
shoulder, was seen from the hour when life came to
her on earth, By it, we remembered that the new
moon was shining on the happy night when Mary
gave me that first pledge of our holy love. But, Ed-
gar, life is on the wane. My breath comes hard.
Bless you, my boy! Remember—remember!”

“T will, oh my father! and——”

“Farewell!” gasped the aying man.

Until now his strong will had sustained voice and
spirit, but now the filmy eye, the tremulous lip, the
death-moisture on the brow, told that the end was
at. hand,

The eyes closed of themselves; the hands fell to
~ side, and the old man dropped away, as in

eep.

The young man stood with arma folded over his
broad chest, silent and thoughtful. He did notreal-
ize that the Death Angel had already borne the spirit
from its casket.

Half an hour passed. Then he bent down his head
and pressed his lips on that white forehead. It was
cold as marble.’ Then be knew that he stood alone
—THE LAST OF HIS RACE!

By N

 

He hurled her from the cradle, and spr

 

 

net

 

   

CHAPTER II.

The full moon looked down from the azure sky on
a wild, strange scene. Above a valley, as beautiful as
any in the far, Far West of America, rose cliff on
cliff, gray and bleak, until they reached, snow-
crested, up among the very clouds.

Gathered along this valley, at the steep mountain
base. was a multitude of the aboriginal lords of
the soil—the red men of America. Their varied
dress, paint, arms and language telling that they
represented almost every tribe upon the plains or in
the mountain range. Gathered together, not for
war, but for some solemn purpose, as their position
indicated. For in tribes they were all drawn up,
facing the mountain, densely massed.

To the right and to the left the mountain towered
as well as in front, while in the rear stretched a plain
bounded only by the horizon.

Silent, as if waiting for some event, the masses,
numbering many thousand, remained.

Suddenly there was a shower of rockets seen as-
cending skyward. The bright moon took away much
of the usual effect, yet the fiery trail of each rocket
could be traced as it flew upward, and then, with the
explosion, eo sparks fell by the million.

Yet no sound broke from the lips of the assembled
hosts. The event which massed them there had not
occurred.

Suddenly the whole mountain face seemed to
blaze with hght, and then, ascending as if lifted
on air, was seen a form of angelic beauty.

A female, with hair gold-hued, floating like a halo
about her lovely face and fair shoulders, her form
draped in robes of white, almost penaperent, with
wings fluttering on eitherside, shiningdike spangled
silver, went up—higher and higher- -up the eo
cliff until she wag tull a thousand feet above the val-
. Naame she vanished into a dark opening in the
cliff.

While she was seen the gathered hosts were silent
and breathless. When she disappeared there was
first a murmur, then it swelled louder and louder,
until it became a concentrated cry from, every lip,
which almost made the earth tremble.

A momentary blaze of light from the dark open-
ing.into which she had disappeared, and in it the
beautiful form, with its silvery wings was seen, its
hands outstretched as if to bless them.

The vast throng of red men sunk on their knees.
A pealing blast from a bugle was heard, and again
the light vanished, and the figure was gone from
their sight.

ang through the

 

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———

window with the child!

 

A second time, from a murmur to a deafening
shout, rose the voices of the red men.

Again a shower of rockets flew on high. Then, on
& single rock, which rose pulpit-like at the base of
the cliff, there was a burst of red flame, and before
it, in bold relief, stood a man, clad in along robe of
red cloth, a man tall in furm, with hair and beard
flowing about his shoulders and low down over. his
chest, hair as white as his own face.

A third shout rose from the massed Indians, and
then the man, looking, indeed, like some weird
spirit, raised one hand, as if to command silence.

Theywere still, and he spoke:

“Brothers. of the red race of America: The Great
Spirifas pleased! Acain-he has sent the Angel of the
SitveR Wings—the daughter of the white chief, to
smile Wpom and bless you. She has gone to the
Spirit-Couneil. whence she will whisper words of
wisdom to me, her father. Let the chiefs of all the
tribes meet me in council, when the sun lifts its face
to-morrow, and the words of wisdom shall be theirs]
The white chief has spoken! He is done!”

The red fire died away. A fourth time the red
men shouted, and then the masses broke away and
retired, in Scattered groups, to camping-grounds
which overspread the valley.

An hour later, all was still, except the dash of the
mountain streams, which plunged from gorges far
above, and the sighing of the night winds through
the air.

The singular spectacle, or ceremony, was over, and
the tribes seemed to sink to slumber.

CHAPTER III.

Where the two branches of the Platte—north and
south—unite, forming the great river of Nebraska,
on the southern bank, ina dense grove of cotton-
wood, a huge camp-fire burned brightly, even amid
extraordinary obstacles. For a pelting, driving
rain, cold as fall rains ever are, was falling, and only
the fierce wind, which blew it alongin blinding
sheets, served to fan and keep all alive the fire ina
huge heap of felled logs, before the party we are
about to describe.

This party were seated under an improvised shelter
of canvas, spread over a broad brush shed, open
on all sides, but so low, that in the center, where
the men lay at ease on their blankets, the wet did
not reach them. Nearly all were smoking; and both
the weapons and garments which they wore told
their character. They were trappers, hunters,
scouts and guides—frontiersmen to a man.

 

 

 

Among them we may find.some old acquaintances.
Who, for instance, is that tall, nobly-formed man,
with long brown hair falling baek from his clear
brow and down over his broad shoulders? It is Buf-
falo Bill. Close by his side, in full buckskin suit, re-
clines Little Buckshot, with his favorite doubl r-

\ ) | reled “Spit-fire” across his knees. . Antoine Ladue,

calm and reflective, sits gazing in the blaze beyond.
And one, whom we supposed to be dead, but who,
scarred with many a wound, has come up from the
past—**Wild Bill’—is also there. Even Sig Beaver,
the noble old Delaware, is among the group.

Corraled near by are a large lot of fine horses and
afew pack mules, at least two horses to each man,
and the latter are about thirty in number.

‘Mates, ”"—it was Buffalo Bill who spoke—‘‘as this
is Our last night in camp before we start for the
mountains, Imove we make it a jolly one. I feel
down-hearted, for ’ve more to leave than the most
of you, and if something isn’t done to keep me out
of the blues, I'll dream bad dreams, and I don’t want
them to start on!”

“We'll not start to-morrow, if it rains and blows
cats and dogs like it does now!” said Wild Bill, in his
usual quiet but decisive tone.

“Tt isn’t going to rain this way to-morrow, sheriff,”
said Buffalo Bill. “We've had two daysof this now,
and if it wasn’t for the wind you’d see the smoke
point straight for the sky.”

‘Drop the sheriff, out here, mate, or I'll shove
squire at you every time I yelp,” said Wild Bill.
‘We're bound for the mountains, so. let us be what
we us¢d.to be.” , }

“Agreed, mate; I Only Sala-sherig-to_hearshow
*twould sound, knowin’ you’d been elected.” f

‘Yes—but I’m out here, now, and we’ll drop of
fice, and feel as we did in the old times. Let’s have
a.song, one of your old voyageur’s songs, Antoine.”

“Hark! The ears of Big Beaver hears the tramp
of strange horses—shod horses!” said the Delaware.

““T hear nothing but the screech of the gale among
the creaking cottonwoods,” said Little Buckshot.
‘Is it not the dash of the current down at the river
that Big Beaver hears?”

“The ears of Big Beaver never tell a lie. He heard
horses! See! they come!”

And the Indian pointed to a group of horsemen,
ten in number, well mounted and armed, who. rode
into the circle of fire-light.

The foremost was a young man of fine appearance,
whose clear blue eyes glanced from man to man
of the group before he spoke.

‘*Is there a man named Cody here, better known
as Buffalo Bill?” he asked, reining in his horse, an
example followed by his companions.

“Yes, stranger; what do you want of him?” asked
Bill, rising to his feet and stepping to the front.

‘Here is a letter for you, from General Carr,” said
the stranger.

“Alight, you and your friends, and come under
shelter,” cried Bill. “Any one who brings a letter
from General Carr is welcome where I am.”

Bill took the letter as he said this, and the young
man who brought it, dismounted, while the former
read the document.

“Mr, Edgar Temple, mates,” cried Buffalo Bill, in-
troducihg the stranger to his party. “He comes
with a hearty recommend from General Carr, and
we all know he would never send any one to us but
men of the right stripe. Hesays Mr. Temple will
tell his own story, and make his own bargains, and
that we will find him like his father, whom the
general knew, TRUE AS STEEL!”

“As soon aS my men have unsaddled their stock,
gentlemen, and picketed it, I will inform you why I
am here,” said the stranger, throwing off his water-
proof cloak, and revealing a tall and manly figure,
well armed and appareled for service.

‘Meantime, take half my blanket, Mr. Temple.
Our cooky will have some antelope-steak, corn-dodg-
ers, and coffee ready in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Cody; Pll stand for awhile and
enjoy the heat from the fire; I am chilled to the
bone, The wind is wintry beyond the grove.”

‘*T reckon it is, sir; these cottonwoods break the
most of it in here.”

The men of the party just arrived, who turned out
to be, with a single exception—a very old man—
frontiersmen like themselves, now came under shel-
ter, having secured their borses.

Mr. Temple now said that he would inform the
party of his reasons for coming to their camp, if they
were ready to hear them.

‘Don’t talk till after you’ve eaten and drank,” said
Buffalo Bill. ‘‘See, our cooks are quick at work,
all is ready. Old man, sit here on this blanket, and
Pi bring you meat and coffee.”

The last offer was to the white-haired veteran, to
whom allusion has been made, who, though he look-
ed to be near three-score-and-ten, moved about with
a step as vigorous. and quick as the youngest of
them all.

“Thanks, young man—but I’m not a baby,” he said
uietly. “I’ve been on many a tough campaign, but
’m not worn out yet. I can rough it with the

youngest, and endure as much as the toughest, when
tried.”

‘‘T can vouch for that. He has been my father’s
companion in every clime, in long years of toil and
travel, has this same good Lewis Woodford. If we
travel together, gentlemen, you'll learn to like him
as I do, fT do not mistake your natures.”

“Good men and true, be they old or young, will
find friends among us,” said Wild Bill. .

The new-comers now supped heartily and not uan-
til they were through were they interrupted by a sin-
gle question.

On the plains and in the mountains, without the
formal show of civilized life, one finds more real
courtesy than he does among those whothink them-
selves the perfection of gentility.

After he and his party had supped, and the most
of them had lighted their pipes, Mr. Temple resum-
ed the topic which he first introduced.

“Did General Carr rightly inform me, gentle-
men——”

“Just rein up a minute, stranger,” cried Wild Bill,
in a respectful tone. ‘‘Don’t call us gentlemen; we're
men. Folks that live in cities like to be called gen-
tlemen, and wear uniform of broadchoth and biled
shirts to prove that they’re entitled to the name.
We're only men, and like short names,”

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

   
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
 
  
     
 
   
  
  
 
   
      

 

  

 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
   
   
  
     
  
  
    
  
   

 

  
  
 

      
 
   
  
  
   
 

 

    
 
 
  

   
 

 

 
  
  

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ama jaca eee eg a A A a RE A A EN RNR A ne en rte = 2 ee awe ee , a

; a o ‘ ick re fi , ’ e 2 op , y away??? “Some water—quick, Gordon,

The stranger smiled and said: ‘ There's a nick there for every red I ve Sent sent neon Me Sie EAS? vin Sect ce BRO Ge ate eine, inden: | Denreaee ; | | :

“Then remember, my name hereafter among you| der,” he continued. *‘There’s two re Til Oo | Yes, 1am going away for a few days,” doggedly. it would have been a lucky stroke if she had taken Muriel {| “Oh, my darling! my darling!’ he wailed, in a yoice

is Ned Temple, and drep the mister, 1 will now go | butt of my elk-killer; they mean white mer. Killed “And leave me with that woman?” With her~but no—this Doctor Barthgidy might biwt| full of womanly tenderness, Uiough freighicd withthe — |
on, Men, General Carr told me that you were a/| cause it was either me or them, and it wasn’t to be il be good enough, 1s to her interest.”? her with & man’s sharpness, Ten thousand dollars was | most passionate love. “My one precious hope, my dream
cheice body of bold-hearted scouts, bound to the | me, if I could help it.” fred}? aljarge sum. She vould do it for five, but hota cent less, | day and night, Aud now nae eaapren ol hear, I may
mountains On a general hunting, trapping and pros- “Stranger, youre some!” said Little Buckshot ito hisarm. She begged and implored, held In all Saw 0 oo were in sereeda Seen cenlession. I love you love you! itismy i
pect ; itior sits iri : ene , sysuade hi re- | Muriel. \Ifit was DoctorBarthOldy he was not likely to. f 2 i
ine expedition. Is it so?” miringly. ge ras meut 1D her power to persuade hin to re HOt. wi PWOkly he wa ely t vel : ;
i ABB nt a sir,” replied Buffalo Bill. ‘Most of us “He is a great warrior!” said Big Bea to is purpose with the stubborn tenacity ONG a a a  emmms afi ideamamee ene icnaal his pee at eet Ls
oe, a ariny albthe pace eras aye at es Bap looging av the sears, which had pot ; s time, * hie said. ribe seemed av very farcel To be sure My ze vee ona task see Pounge the eae oe paula Prcnee
Now to tame ne wit? 0 OL * : Ril) ‘ ; m, af. ‘Not be cauglt befween ie two was the only point that re- | the partly-open lips, 1 aL M oe
if some stories are tae that have been dropped to} Wild Bill now thought of his own coné @ you to your friends, unless Baicea Bae aie. Me rope slie Seine over her | baibell her fiee aud a chadogthe pale palms softly. |}
one another 'efs, from time to time, by reds we've | Well as that of the stranger, and taking a n¢ ; ae re | brilliant prospects, Ag for Alfred, sue hud never consia- “Ol, Miss Warren! ‘TL dear, dear clild! 'Telbme truly .
come in contaetwith, One story is that gold laysin| ing shirt from his pack, handed it to th eated, Jé@red him particularly bright. —bat sleds not dead!) ia |}
1 s over beyond the Wind river range, all along ing: ¢ ¢ ‘ afew} Upon reaching thé city sic betook herself to one of the | Gordon was erying over her. Tears, too, shone on Bar |
umps y * | Hero Oreg ut on.this dogsk third-rate thoroughfares, Small teuement houses, swarnis | Wioldy’s jetty lashes. | §
the ravines! »Anooher is thiet there iso stone man, | 7° Hero, Oregon, pu i if ims] Of dirty children, low drinkiug-shops, and ostensible | ‘No, sile is not dead? |
Oe are ed ye mate See Cae ae int his which D of Heaven that Cigar, or thread "ahd needie stores. ‘The san glared llis voice was quivering like a tremulous watt of air, so ~
as pertect Lt Tous) Any TaaR Chae aS. oo a | DP ODRAD ccoumn Urn ngabove then. Oh, how down on the heaps of refuse that ornamented the street, | full of exultant hope that it rang out unsteady. 7
other yet, that there is a white woman, with silver | aside when a combat seemed immi smiled serenely, the long } making the air almost intolerable. Even Ann Maghes, to} Another tremor stole along the neryes like the vibration
wings, that talks to the Indians, and tells them how] ‘I wish we could engage him to ¢ nes Wav usp her lo a fond shelter, | Whom it was uative air, curled her nose with a sensé of | of heavenly music. ‘The WaxXen dg unclosed aud a faint |
to become powerful, a kind of Spirit Queen, whom | Edgar Temple. ‘He very likely kno Lstood aloof. — | Jatent disgust. . sigh escaped the lips. meh Vie
they worship and obey. Weve heard these things | the mountains as any of the party. elurned @ fat down stairs and| She paused before atow building, the window of which | “Yes, she will live. Oh, thank Heaven, Gordon, that |
from one source and another, until some ofus think ‘Not as much as Antoine Ladue,” said 1 ‘this became unendurable | was atorned chiefly with fies who were holding high | we were not too late? > ) |
‘there is something in them, and we are going to run ee : ‘He's a king for knowledge of the J «ae gee See eee ee pitts baiere array of Stale bread, cake, candy, cn 8 sia hema as if 10 {sagem sonnel | | 4
aipretty big risk to find:out.” _ ig hills!’ : 2 ics Y fashion, It 1 sometimes ples a gars. cf oR I ran
Vill you permit me-and my party, all well-armed,} Antoine smiled, He knew how Little Buckshot Beatle teciing took Salabeaon of oie aia onde nate the red-haired shop-keeper| ‘Those wicked, monstrous wretches! Steps shall be
‘well-mounted, and well found in every respect—to | loved him. aan : ry his the Mattes voraihows cn semoemer//  Adixet to bring titel 40 apeedy justice! As if her 116 Qld
join your adventure? TI, t00, wish to look into the “Can't you go with us, stranger? ye'll show you | 4 eoUaned for dicabe, and’ oy “Jt js, was the reply, “and I° ‘onpted. Whiat a| uot outweigh the whole vile crew?
vaysteries of this unknown West, and my men are] railroads when you get back,” said Wiid Bill, | Drie! felt Utienetiibanstelt hate ig day! am | Muriet opened her eyes and glanced around,
engaged and well paid to follow where I lead.” ‘As to that,” said Buffalo Bill; ‘‘here’s the Pacific, | mg, “if I joined youin your PAN you may well say_ Au’ what) But for Gordons presence Burtholdy must haye pressed i
“What d’ye say, mates? This stranger must be all| close at hand, if that’s all he wants to see,” Fe , i gme to liberty a day or | possessed you to leave a her to his hear Land given words tv bis fervent but secret
| ight, or General Carr wouldn’t say he is true as} ‘Was that a railroad, where my hoss stumbled |q = _ | Ume oF the year 7? yee ede shat “pgalnt? a exclulined, sanded. tis
| steel, and the general knows what steel is.” among iron and timbers;,the other side, of the aa, bleared eyes. b OV ps “ had to geine to Lup nee On ! ’ ;
| eee -speke. hi Ores nae 8 Tene r ee oul r a ee Pein yer uot outa He gave her another draught andthena drink of water.
| “T like his looks, and I know most of his men,” “Yes; and when a train goes by in the morn tae h wun 9 iT Wiletiarny eas wahaduing A eer aia ia. Pi poor, PytcheaUpmawallowell igeageriys |! sine
said Antoine Ladue. ‘We are few enough, all put / you'll see all there‘is of it, and that’s too much, ied Anis GUNES, Stubby’ fugers.td his foreheud. = 7 “Come in uie bad to| “You are fanmished!? ;
together, to-go where we are going, and ten such] in’ it is scarin’ all the game back out of reach es, | must gee her before I decide,” tell..? She smiled. Lying there in his arms she-seemed to |
men will be of great service 10 us.” market,” . een ae | Then he rose and wandered out in the twilight,and Mrs, {| Ann followed he forget everything else. cai 1 ecg
“Them are my sentiments. [move they’re grafted “Where are you goin’, and what for?” asked the | fragnes Kept watch. containing two or thr He poured a lite wine inthe glass, re on , di a )
on to our party,” said Wild Bill. : stranger, eating between sentences. | Muriel retired to her room. She was so worn ont that.| ous stages ob dil Sor Ea per ek fee ares 7.

“‘Agreed; they’re welcome!” was the response “A huntin’, apply’ Re pee ct mire ne sei asleep, and it was late when she woke the witcher ere se tu} at sa nud gente sae oar a iss unre }
wet from every man in the party. some wild stories about parts o the hills where Horning. et : — ag ah Phe 8 5 ar
"| “Look! the Great Spirit smiles!” cried Big Beaver,| none of us have ever been, and we're ate to set | A a We pos oe he pitiful “a mio and ther “ See “Nor must you either; you are too weak. I have just
‘ and he pointed overhead, where a break Jn the] our minds atrest about emif we can, Will you go Dae rions viisaphene 1€0 1! MisseWarren a by that| ‘A ard perance, though | brought you back to life again.” —

clouds showed the stars shining brightly. ‘It isa}and share our fortunes?” . | mame Muriel was k Al was MEANS to fua 18Me | | mie I've brought my | She shut her eyes in sweet obedience,

good omen; our brothers bring good fortune!” ‘If so be all hands is agreed in wantin? me alone among the various solutions NO one suspected her of still | jug along ti i plenty.” “It will do to take her now, Mr. Gordon, 1 can earry
“So may it be!” said Edgar Temple, as he ac-|I will,” said the stranger. "Ive been used to fol} peing in tue neighborhood, In fact ie huunted house wis | “Ah, yer ey advise you to keep | her. 9 WwW

cepted a place on the blanket of Buffalo Bill. lerim’ a lone hunt since the old man went under, | of sinall importance compared to this new excitement. shady a whil < Gillen’s peached.? : gone i vite nila.” : ton
“Will you light a pipe?” asked Bill, proffering his | and I don’t want to go where I’m not wanted.” Ou the third day he Jeltthem., Mrs. Hughes received “The villail ‘ choke him!) and the woman's mae eves te ae ee aa. it shmodiiitidedn cuss aan A

; own, with true Western courtesy. “Oregon, you’re just such a man as we do want,” | the strictest charges. Muriel Was lotto be neglected in dace ete alin ak With ENE, ro ee ae. ona oa eb. SaEpie Odell 8! a ~ | h

“Thank you, no; neither tobacco:nor spirits have }said Wild Bill. ‘I was ready to fightiyou a bit ago, ep yepspect, as hepieend healua Were of paramount im- “ : S ee Brtiget a cry “ '. , a L 4 oy The carrie hdicome ¥ as ME as the Barrsw, over- i

ever passed my lips,” said young Temple. but I’m ready to fight any man now that squints aes tan returd Gee rdaysat the farthest,” he said. } buck on 4 friend.” : i 19 grown drive allowel. They reached it presently. Muriel ;
“Nor mine,” said old Lewis Woodford; and that} at you.” é ; SAIC.

  

“Thankee, kindly, mate; if there’s any “ightin’ to
do, it won’t be among ourselves, if I have my say.
If there’s nO objections, T’ll be one of you.”

‘Good for Oregon! good for Oregon!”

As this cry came from all hands, the stranger

    
 
 

“y ave he : was trembling in every linsb, ;
Sade ytd “Are you fired, or frightened? Am I too rough for such
a frail little dove?”

The exceeding sweetness of his yoice thrilled her,

“Oh, no”?

He stepped into the low vehicle without relinquishing

for this week, and her safely is |
the only couditiow between us, There is no fear of this
house beiug searched now, f think.”

Mrs. Hughes laughed.

If captivity had n barely endurable before, it was
intoleravie. now. Mrs. Mughes took upon herself full

coca. a

- “You're the true steel. : first, afore we go into that,
have you seen anyihing of the chap Dalziel?” ;
“Niver a bit, but his ‘precious ouid father was here
lookin’ afier the Yisit,-aead the times as hard asatin
year ould cheese! For the chaps have all fell off for fear
of Jack.”

is.one reason why I am younger than my years, my
sight undzgimed, my strength unimpaired.”

‘A good reasoh; and it’s a pity we’re not all of
the same practice,” said Buffalo Bill, thoughtfully.
“But we’re allagreed on one point—this trip. We’ve

 

 

    
 
  

   

 

: ; ; | i ; 4 : ‘ . . r . “ej fs ; his hold, agile as some wary leopard.
ar 5 rum along, and tobacco carries a lone] seemed pleased, and as he stretched out his hand | authority. She Marched into Muriel’s room, and tor- Mrs. Uughes uttered a forcible ejaculation. 5 i aU Ea Aa ongditigae ae : 5
ee 2 rh i3.a8 Bie Be aan id, thestorm| for a ti I t ot hot coffee, which Wild Bill brought | mented “the hapless girl by her course aud wearisome} “But where can the fellow be? Aud no letter either?” You wiil soon be returned to Mrs, Gordon‘s Kind care, ;
re Ceo on CAAA LETHE At co thE conten ae he end sor aca vs conversation, not iimting “@t sueers or insults. And} “Nivera word, nor sign. Did you want hin? We could ee Berek! @ re: ;
Ss over. ake ¢ sarily start, § 28 . ; » said: ‘ “* 7 i 5 Pe -Y yy at, ; +7 ¥ ‘But how did yo ar "3 oh m 3
ae . ets yaya 2 ecto BT Ha -tny | SUMetimes, as Mi ~cuughtthe foul breath reeking with | send Teddy to see. = ) eer : | tee
we are snoozing the better. We have our last} “I'll show you where there 1s OM gold 1ayi? baer iast polation » tie poor girl’s heart. died within her,| Teddy might go to Mr. Dalziel’s and inquire. Mrs,{ ‘You shall hear some ume. lt ts too long a story for
night to pass, for along time, where no guard is re-| loose in the gulches, than you ever dreamed of see- | wo amusement, save Watching the trees as they were | Hughes felt rather puzzled to account for this silence and | Your scant strength.’ : ns Sanaa ; j
quired. Hallo! What in thunder is that?” in’ in all your lives! It maae me greédy to look at | stirrea idly by the summer wind, she found a storm an |ubsence. She wanted to be sure that the coast was quite | She was goutent and happy ars of 7 alm es
“Whoop! hooray! wolves, catamounts and rattle-| it as I came along!” absolute and cheeriug break in the monotony. clear before she made her final throw, en eee ate er ink cia cok’ ches ahaa bn }
; snakes! Who ar ye, and where did you come “Where away was it?” asked Ladue. The four days passed. Auother, aud still another. Mrs, | So ‘Teddy wus dispatciied tu find out all he could con- | me rt g ne oak Qype pam flutter, ever wandering ; _—* {
from?” “T reckon it was near what I’ve heard say was the | Hughes n mo et w pucnag. dane Cbd taceeei gecuiug. lire Aull Mlewnt lo keep her counsel in the eee o galher up y , J % f r
The man who strodé up indront of the group and | Wind river gap in the Rockies,” said the stranger. alin IMs aed ee Von: his airange ) we iustcr. is ha ; Qin. w WA Yreas thins delicious ese wuitaa Fy? dome-
asked this question, after a»couple of preliminary ‘The reds keep a mighty close watch around that ¢ : nt of the shallow He’s jackin’, that. he ist declared Bridget. “There's hy

yells, looked more like a wild beast than a human
being. ;

His eyes, red and fiery, literally looked out from
amid amass of hair, his face was covered with
tangled beard, his head with matted hair, having no
osher covering, A coat or-shirt of buffalo-skin, with
the hair worn out; bare legs, with moccasins on his
feet; a hide-rope about his waist, which sustained a
jong knife and hatchet; a single-barréled, flint-lock
Fifle in his hands, completed his description, except-
ing only, it should be stated, he was very muscular,
and very tall, almost a giant, in truth.

His sudden appearance, and singular looks and
manner, caed every man in-camp to his feet, sur-
prise as well as curiosity actuating them, for the

stranger was dripping with water, as if he had just}

come out of the river so close.at hand.

Shaking himself as a shaggy Newfoundland-dog
would do after leaving water, the stranger glared
oyer the party with his fierce, beast-like eyes, and
in a harsh tone growled out:

“Haye ye never seen aman from Oregon, afore,
that ye all stare at meas if I was a sight good for
sore eyes?”

“A man from Oregon, or an -animile?” said Wild

section I know. For three weeks I never built a fire.
I cooked what I did cook on the old embers of their
fires, and had more narrow chances than I ever had
afore in all my life.
times at night, and if I hadn’t been able to talk a
dozen kinds of Ingun, ny scalp would be on some

lodge-pole now, instead of on my head颔

‘Did you have to lay any of ’em out?” asked Little
Buckshot.

‘Some of them notches are fresh sawed, stranger,”
said Oregon. ‘“That*ll answer your question best.
T never scalp—that’s human to a red, but it isn’t my
way. '

: “Bia you ever hear any story among them about
one Silver Wing?” asked Edgar Temple. a

“Silver Wing, the Angel otf the Tribes?” said the

stranger, abruptly, turning to look at Temple.

+ **What do you know about her?”

“Nothing, except what report has brought in the
shape of a story of some/mysterious - whom
the Indians worship; but you must have heard of
her, or my question would not so excite you!”

“Stranger, Pm not excited, but I’ve seen her!”
said Oregon. j ‘

**When, where?” asked several at once.

  
       
  
 
 
  
 
 
  

I was in their camps a dozen |

Yes, she would go.
‘ah

in. I inay gelesome word, s
City? He fb en ORs

laste as the companiousinp had
seemed horrible, ig

Was it.
turiel had corr ed it. Where then

rovisions were ata low ebb. Mrs. IInghes

oraging expedition to the villuge, but she
vas how fora sight of -her familar city. Ler
stimulants depression also. And if

~

» She imight find her-

he more feasible the
dowh in the morning
come hear the-old
an inquiring mind
lake invesugallous,

    
    
   
 
     
   
    
    
  
    
  

would chyose this particular

er breakfast she annou
Muriel, ;

—*We can’. starve,” she saic

“For my part, ] dou’t see wha

determination to

‘orous emphasis.
suine of your Cons-
Ng dowh to the

ae

ked. Little to her
ed, perlect solitude

re 4

uriel staried in affright..
“And Jeave we here slone 2’?

“Why not? You don’t think, n@retty bird, that I’m

going lo open the dvor of your cageand ask you to fly?
Ca:ch Anu Hughes at sucha Uiek, unless ib for her

own beuefit as well.”

‘aan

& Wanderiu’ sort of light in his eyes, and “l wonder that
you can trust him.’ ;

“Din all right,?' retarned Ann, with a confident nod.
“And now forthe news of that dirty Jack Gi:en!?

The two sipped Jovingly out of tbeir glasses, while
Bridget unfolded a tale that went farto disprove the old
adage of “honor among thieves.? Her listener broke in-
lo a fearful rage, uud yuwed Vengeance, drinking to covl
her hot temper. F

seemed as if she had experienced it on

 

- Teddy returned. presently. No one knew anything of
young Dalziel—he had been away.from home for a Jong
Wire, andthe sharp housekeeper’s advice was that it
would be safer for him to keep away.

Mrs. Hughes gave an inward chuckle of delight. 1f£she

‘could see Doctor Bartholdy jn time to return that night.

“Ye'r beiter be a little suy,”? was Bridgel’s counsel.
Take granuy’s hood aud vail if yer gom? far? ae
“A bright thought, aud here’s a litde pecket-money for
you, Bridget,??

Lridgei’s Hngers closed tightly over tle gold coin. Ann
felt pecalianly generous.

She ditt not see Doctor Bartholdy as she expected. Mu-
viel watched alone until the last glint of sunshine faded:
from (he tree tops. The crows sweeping over the distant
flelds cawed Joudly, and the shrill voice of the night
huwk pierced the stillness. No friendiy footsteps stuim-
bling up the stairs, no coarse voice, whose greeting would
how be vw positive reliet

{hat 1 never thought of that old

where she had read of the divine ecstasy of death, and it

» And yet this

Was different. A boundless satisfaction, a happiness:so

exquisite that she forgot mortal pahgs, even allAhoughts
£ ,

of past suffering.

Mr. Gordon drove. A hard, role road indeed,
Once Muriel roused herself aud Jooked out into the

depths of shade.

“ts it far??? she asked. | L
“No. Between two and three miles. 1 wonder now
Moxery, ‘But Who fancied
Lhat she Was Su near f?

“Nowe of us, surely. Were we all dumb, blind, earthy
clods that no presenument could lure us fo the spot?’ .

“And Pve been almost within sight of it! he place:
has'a bad repntation on account of & murder committed
there, and J never had any longing for horrors.”’

“Hash,?? said Bartholdy softly, for he felt Muriel shiver
in his arms, 35 :

They turned into the open road at length, and at aword
the horses Rew along. Lhe coltage” Re pet nc oe

's, Gordon, walki 4 WR the path in feverish
A TE

uuxiety, weeered a Cry 0 ‘ 3 ; ‘
“Alive!” Bartholdy exclaimed, ‘We wereint 4 he
“yhank Heayen!® aft ty lah aS Tie lat
‘Lav il) earry ler dn,” bg continued. “To o her’ roont s 7
But Mrs. Gordon had to press some rapturous kisses on

‘

    

F

it be?”

 

 

      
  

  

    

you ery, afore I’m done.
bast of you, and [ stand*right here.in-my moccasins
th preve it

Stranger, talk is talk; but there is somethin’ be-
sides talk wanted to prove what you say,” said Wild
Bill, and he stepped forward to'the edge of the cir-
cle and threw off his buekskin ‘hunting shirt, reveal-
ing in all its muscular beauty, in all its sinewy
strength, such a form as would ‘have been chosen by
a sculptor out of ten thousand for a Herculean
Apollo.

The stranger laughed, and there wasa wild, fiend-
ishnessin that laugh, which made these brave men
shudder.

“You suit me,” he cried, “I haven’t had a decent
fight for an elk’s age. Stranger, I’m chilly, for P’ve
had a dip in the Platte where my hoss stuck in the
quick-sand, and I want to get warm. Exercise will
do as well as fre, Stranger, sail in, I’m ready!”

And the man threw off his dripping outside cover-
ing, and showed a form knotted with muscle, gigan-
tic in bone, and literally seamed over with scars.

A murmur of admiration involuntarily broke from
the lips of the men used to displays of physical
strength, as they locked at that frame; far more
herculean than that of Wild Bill, it seemed like what
a gladiator of the Roman era might have shown, af-
ter years of fearful training and numerous victories.

Wild Bill glanced one instant at the powerful
form in front of him, atthe artistie position of the
stranger, as he stood with his clenehed hands folded
across his immense chest, every muscle swelling
with conscious strength, and gathered himself for a
spring. -

But the count j

at, so, imminent, was nogeto take
place, atleast not then. For Buffato Bill, by nature
as chivalric as any Knight of the olden time, sprang
between the two men, and turning to his party,
cried out in an indignant tone:

“Mates, is this the way of the plains? A stranger
comes to our camp, wet and shivering; hungry may-
be, comes here alone, and we receive him with
harsh words and blows? If old Satan. himself eame
here in the condition of this man, I’d warm himand
‘feed him, before I kicked him out!”

“Bill is right; cuss me if he isn’t always right!”
said Wild Bill, promptly. Then he advanced open-
handed toward the stranger and said:

“Oregon, it was mean inme to try to pick a muss
With you, and I’m sorry for it. Come inside here
and share a dry blanket with us, while’ I get some
grub for you.”

The stranger, who hailing from Oregon received
that as his name, could not and did not refuse the
hand which Bill proffered, and when he shook ii, he
smiled to see Bill fairly wince under the terrible grip

I'ma better man than the |.

‘fled.

Tate 7
Midnight Marriage.

By Amanda M, Douglas, 3

Author of THE CROWN OF DUTY, SYDNIE |

ADRIANCE, STEPHEN DANE, Etc.

 

PART I1.~ALTHEA.

[The Midnight Marriage” was eommenced in No. 8 Back-Nos.
can be obtained of any News Agent in the United States. }

CHAPTER VIII.—{CONTINUED.)

The darkness began-io close them in. Vainly did she
listen for a familiar sound. Down stairs there was some
coarse merriment as the precious pair sat over a strouger
beverage than tea. It made Muriel shudder.

The weary night appeared ages long. She conld not’
sleep, although she Jay on the bed, sobbing hysterically.
The sturs came out in a deathly solemn procession, but
there was no moon. Tie tall trees waved in the wind
like crowds of plrantoms.

Somewhere there were faithfal hearts searching for her.
She pictured the dismay, the final despair. Did they
think her drowned? Perhaps they would fancy that Har-
old Walsingham had a hand in this mysterions abduction.
And how was italltoend? Could Walsingham demand
her as his legal wife?

She thought until her brain was a chaos of misery, un-
til it fairly became blunted by the throes of suffering, and
her-hot eyelids throbbed with fiery pulses. Always some
impulse to get up and fiy, a deathless ey ugele forever baf-

It seemed as if she lived ages in that one night.

The gray dawn stole up the horizon at length. She
went tothe window for a breath of the clear, free air.
Were they looking for her yet? Oh, if they would but
come befure the day was gone, for it Seemed as if another
night would drive her crazy. She experienced a wild
temptation to seream, but who could licar her in this des-
olate place?

The haunted honse had never been spoken of at Mr.
Gordon’s. He had paid no attention to the flying reports
of its mystery, though he had explored it in several hunt-
ing expeditions. That Muriel would be taken there never
once entered his mind. It was too
slightest suspicion altached to it, Indeed, every circum-
stance pointed to New York as her destitiation, unless,
indeed, some foul treachery was intended.

Muriel heard the stir presently. She bathed her face
and hands, wet her throbbing brain to cool its fire, and
brushed Out her shining hair, inwardly, thankful for the
fresh toilet articles within her reach. Then she waited
another dreary while.

Alfred came at length and unbarred her door. He
looked heavy-eyed and haggard. ; ;

‘I hope you siept well,’? he remarked, rather hesi-
tatingly. :

“1 did not sleep at all.’

Tle stared a Jitile. :

‘Breakfast will soon be ready. Will you come down

 
 
 

P arms akimbc
small, hateful eyes, She saw Muriel-shrink in disgust.

  

me

| don’s, or to the city to-day?
_ “You're under age, .
by ge Old Dailziel’s a tight-fist
toa dollar antil the Jas

 ’Thavs a

near 10 have the

you. ten, lo be merciful!’
<1 alebebe

1 in the doorway and placed her
her favorite position, and Jeered out of her

“Wiat woul
rs. Hughes’

 
   
  
 
    
  

“Yes; what would you offer for freedom, my tine lady?
Oh, you needwt turn up your pretty nose. If anything's
befallen your Cousin, you'll have togreat with me.?:

She gave her head a kind of defi
“Anything! exclaimed ature

“Thox-
sands—five, ten perhaps, if you

ke mie to Mr. Gor-

   
   
 
   
 
 

n you get your
Ser, Who holds on
asp, fler you were out
me ilo oubie,?? .

— me—tlisten tome! And if you want
the m uimediately, goto Dr. Bartheldy. I know he
would advance it and trust to my repayment. Oh, Mrs.

Hughes, if you have any heart, any pry—”

“No, i'm not stocked with ey such baggage. I’m
always in light marching order—hi, ha! It's a matter of
dollars and cents with me,” ;

-Muriel studied the cuarse, unprincipled face, for it was
that. Not one i'édeemung ray of kindliness, nut one sen-
timent of honoror womanly sympathy. ‘Lo sue to such a
person was hopelessly vain work. ;

“Ifyou seb me free youshall be rewarded,” she re-
turned, With quiet diguity, “Or, if you will bring Dr.
Barthoidy back with you, will make the bargain i his
presence, aud proniise sucredly that no one shail ever mo-
Jest you forauyihing that you inay do.”

“And how much—ten thoysaud dollars???

The greedy eyes sparkled at the thought. .

“You shall Have that, if 1 can be free to-morrow.”

Mrs, Hughes Considered awhile, —_ 4

“Pil let you know when come back to-night.

“You will be sure to come? Oh, do not stay!” she ex-
claimed, piteously. i Psy

*O, Ill come,
in all alone”?

Mrs. Hughes arranged her dress and put all things in
order. She brought to Muriel part of a foal of bread, some
roast beef left Jrom the

previous day's dinner, and a

pitcher of water. :
ut all, I believe, except some crackers.”
“I, willdo. Oh, Mrs. Hughes, you will not allow any
thing to detain youl? :
Not J! Don’t tret for my delightful society.”

Muriel heard the door jock, aud the great bolt grind

against the staple. The steps grew fainter and fainter,

the hall dour shut with aslam, and she was all alone, a

prey to her own thoughtgand the most terrible forebodhugs,

A long, lonely day was before her, Nothing to read, no

(rifle of Rewing, Ro variely im the landscape to while away
the tedious moments, :

She watched the litue strip ofsky that at midday reached
a point of white heat, Hardly a breath of air was stirring,
though the dampness made the place cooler, and there
was no’ sun to glare and scorch,
she had many mes belere by repeating her school-day
lessons and snatches of lalfergouen poems.
she dared to sing,

Then a thought Mashed into her brain.

(ana the silence became awesome,

This would be a pokerish place to stay:

Site amused herself us

And at last

u first that she cowld not pass a night jn that solitude.

yery atom of her flesh sliruuk as if escaping the grasp
of some phantom of the darkness. A dull horror filled
brain and soul, :

However she fell asleep at last, but it was a broken and
ee slumber. With earliest dawn she was agaiu
astir.
_For her breakfast she ate the last of her bread. Not
Simply on uccouut of hunger, but a desperate something
that Could only be appeased by employment of some kind.
The water was wari aud tasteless, yet pleasant to her
feverish lips.
She made a frantic altempt to break her prison bars.
Alfred Dalziel, with the cunning of an almost madman,
had made them loo strong for her weak efforts. ‘Trem-
bling and extausted she threw herself upon the bed.
There was nothing to be done but to wait uutil relief was
brought through ‘other channels, ;

And so passed on the hours, Noon came; then the
shaduws began to lengihen, ‘A slow agony of tortured
suspense, au hope dying in great Uirves, a despair seizing
upon every Seuse. The fire of anxiety had sent a burn-
ing fever through her pulses, aud she drank until her
pilcher was einpty. ‘

it came to ler after awhile, like a slow horror curdling
the bivod in her veins, that she was deserted, left here to
die in reality, If Althea and Harold had thought her in
their path before, and not scrupled at crime in removing
her, would they hesitate now? Alihea had beguiled Al-
fred again wilh her. beauty and fiscination, perhaps,
worked upon some chord of latent cupidity, aud won him
over to their side. Or perhaps ze might be dead!

She shuddered with mortal anguish, Oh, how could
they be so cruel, so pililess! Both had professed to love
her, Both had kissed her pale lips when they thought
her dyiug, but, ah, it was only in the thrill of a guilty

Ye

She made one more eager attempt at liberty. It seemed
to her that she Could batter down the door, but iis stout
oaken panels only gave back a hollow echo, She shrieked
aloud unul the forest echoed a hundred cries of distress,
but what was loud to her distorted senses made only a
faint eche in the distance, like the cry of a night bird.
Her brain reeled in a delirium. odie here amid the
slow agony of thirst and starvation, for beyond the few
fragments of meat there was not a mouthful.

Anothet hight, auether stifling, pitiless morning. She
felt lamished and eagerly devoured the last few crumbs.
There Was some Water remaining in the tin pail that had
been brought up for toilet purposes.

Yester morn she had used 1 lavishly, now it was more
precious than gold.

Aud then she worflered in a listiess fashion how many
days must elapse before death would come to release her.
Once already she had died, but not in such horror as this,
O°, had Heuven, too, forgotten merey? What had she
tloue in her short life that she must suffer in this awful
fashion?

The day was interminable. At night she began to ex-
perience the sharp pangs of hunger. Now and then she
tried to appease it wilh a tiny draught of water. Through
the still ieng night ske never slept at all, but when morn-

 

Sete “iL wisn Seale, F ete | ‘Muriel tried to think what had ocaurred. Doctor Bar- | the pale, Sweet brow, before she couid Jet her pass. |
Bill in a quiet, Sarcastic way. The rest laughed. {To BE CONTINUED.} son dike Waleiecie want,” said M es se a Keoat { tholdy wight have been absent, aud Mrs, Hughes com- Eran ne her geome jney* must have Mrs. Warren
The eyes of the stranger fairly olazed with anger. 7 pega ised you qite. Oily ise e@ my liberty, aud Lb will see Meee inet WHLT Tb was too lute for that Cury’s boat. a artionie eg Reron the bed
Wen eae “Blazin’ aia he Seer “If oy THE {¢ Nate yo Oo Pulolgee seein lame, beside being amply re- She setied herself at last to this + ogg pe a eere “You will hot go away?” she whispered.
cusses think I’m laughin’ -steck; T’7ll make some o \ “Sa warded... Oh, i e 7

“My darling, not to-night.”

Mrs. Gordon took possession of her for the next half
hour, She bathed the face and snowy shoulders, changed
the soiled clothing, and Mariel felt much refreshed.

‘And now you must hiave something to eat. Doctor
Bartholdy will have to give orders here.’ :

Muriel smiled, ._

Doctor Bartholdy fed her in his graceful, feminine way.
How like a dream it allappeared! To be here in her old,
familiar room, with these lond faces around her, to watcli
the flicker of the candles, to hear the ticking of the large
clock in the hall’below, and these pleasant yoices in their
low. talk. '

“Tell me about them all?’’ she asked.

“Tas been quite ill, but is better,
not seen for two Gays,”?

A flush passed over his face at this. Mutiel in her fine,
spiritual state noted it at once.

“And you have all Leen searching for me?!

‘*¥es—every where.”

“Lcan iniagine the pain and anxiety,’? she returned.
“It seems as if every slep of my life was connected with
some tragedy. Will it ever be quiet and peaceful .as the
livés of other women are?! ;

“Ithink it will be necessary to con’ess your identity
now,” Bartholdy said, in a low tone. “You will hardly
be secure until this is dune.’

Murie) was silent, yet more than half-convinced.

She looked weary, so presently he gave her. a compos-
ing drauglit, aud retired to the next room to held a long
consultation with Mr. and Mps. Gordon.

(tO BE CONTINUED)

>@e-4* —

Ovk KNOWLEDGE Box,

“Mrs. Warren ?’'
Macdonald I have

 

 

 

QUESTIONS ANSWERED AND INFORMATION \VANTED.—
Bebadil.—FRoSTED Frer.—First dip them in cold water, then rub
them until thoroughly dry. Afterward anoint with glycerine. ,
This Jast-mentioned application acts like a charm in soothing the
excessive irritatiun so annoying in. chilblains........0. 0. W.
—EVERTON TAFFY.—First melt in a shallow vessel a quarter of a
pound of butter, and add to it one pound of brown: sugar. Stir
them together for fifteen minutes, or until a little of the mix-
ture, dropped in a basin of cold water, will break clean between
the teeth without sticking to them. Any flavoring that is desired,
as lemon, pineapple, or vanilla, should be added just before the
cooking js complete, The taffy, when done, should be poured ir-
to a shallow dish which is buttered on the bottom and edges.
Should you wis to break it into squares, draw a knife. across it
when partially cool....... G, W. M.—DANDROFF.—Sulphur is good
for dandruff. Put about an ounce'in a quart of Water, and ‘wash
the head thoroughly with it...... WwW. Sto. Wasi SILK PockEr-
HANDKERCHIEFS.—They should be washed by themselves, and
those containing snuff should be put to soak in separate luke-
warm water. ‘Two. or three hours after, they should be rinsed
out and put to souk with the others in cold water for an hour ot
two.) They sould then be washed out in lukewarm water, be-
ing soaped as they are washed. Hf all the Stains are not out of
them, they mnust be washed through a second Water of the same
BESPOPLT, Veh Saiahes, oe should be rinsed in cold soft
water, in which a handiul of common salt hi N dissolved.
They may be rinsed all together, belng ete both sing they
are washed, into a dry tub, wlience, when all are done, they are
transferred to the rinsing tab.......... ¢. B. H.—We do not like

Thos. WW.

to give recipes for alcoholic beverages.........

ing dawned the pitcher aud glass at her side were both
alike empty,
“Oh, Heaven!) she cried in her anguish, “let my pangs

. eek
he gaye him. eee dt Sapp.

2 stairs ??
“High flutin’ Moses! If you strike one-half as hard

‘Os,
SHxLLAC.—Lac is aresinous substance obtained from several
Sie was thankful for that much of freedom, and fol-

trees growing in tne East Indies. There are several varieties
knownimcommerce, The most common are, Stick-lac, seed-lac

company of luiterers shonid be passing through the woods,
or a hunter, for Mr, Gordon net unfrequently took his

 

iinet

 

 

 

as you squeeze, there wouldn’t be much left of aman
after you'd hit him!” said Bill, as he led the stranger
toward his blanket. ‘Mates, I’m thankful this fight
wasn’t had, for ’'d have gone under in it sure.”

Oregon smiled, and his tone was less harsh when
he spoke again.

“I didn’t want to fight, strangers, but you all
looked as if I was intrudin’, and I was a little riled.
Tve come alone all the way from Oregon just to see
&@ railroad, for there werent none bnilfé when my
dad took me, a litt!e boy, from Missouri, nigh on to
forty years ago. I’ve had good luck till to-night,
when I got a glimpse.o’ your fire, and I got swamped
in tryin’ to get over to it. My hoss and all the traps
on him are in the sands, I reckon a thousand feet
deep afore this time, for they were agoin’ when I
left’em, and I had all I could do to get out myself.”

“ve got two horses and a mule, and you shall
have one, stranger; you're the first man I ever met
that could make me feel like takin’ water to get out
of his way,” said Wild Bill.

“Thankee, mate, thankee; I’ve got about twenty
pound of gold dust in my belt to pay,for another
hoss, ard I know where it Jays Joose all over the
ground, when I want more. J reckon what, I had on
my hoss was what hurried him under in them sands,
for I had my saddle-bags full.”

“‘Did you come over the mountains allalone?” ask-
ed Edgar Temple.

The stranger nodded his affirmative, for his mouth
was full of cold roast antelope at the moment.

*‘Where. were the reds?” asked Little Buckshot.

“‘Afore and ahind, and all around me, some of the
time,” said the stranger. “But I’m used to’em. I've
fit’em, man and boy, for forty years, and they've
mapped out a heap of mem'ry-marks on my carcass,
But I’m even, and I reckon a leetle Ways ahead with
em. Look there!”

He pointed to the barrel of his rifle, which was
right square, and was notched all along its angle
close as the teeta of a saw. 4

 

 

lowed him. The savory fragrance of broiling ham greeted
of sunshine—tiost, surely, }

her in the hall below, and ara
in this dreary wild—played about. the stone
whose edges were green with moss.

Mrs. Hughes, frowsy-headed, and
tucked up, exposing brawry arms, nod
ing. How intolerably coarse the woman 1

“Breakfast! she announced.

“Excuse the milk!’ with a grin that. sh her white
teeth. “We're not in style yet, but it’ll all come in tinie.
Or maybe miss would rather jiave°tea?) 1 ulwaysS make
a pot for myself.” d

Muriel declined the tea—perhaps for the reason: that
Mrs, Hughes meant to partake of it, And although it did
not seem as if she could taste a mouthful, yet she did
make a tolerable breakfast.

“Must { go back ?’ she asked, slowly, as they went out
in the hall.

“If you would like to walk @ little-——” ‘

“Yes, bwould,’? and she glanced wistfully out of doors,

“Come, then.”?

Mrs. Hughes looked after them.

“That Dalziel’s a Jool!”? she said to herself... “The gall
get away; but l’ll make sure Of my money if I can. . Not
a bad spec eitiver, these dull times. When Re’s away Pil |
be the boss.’? :

They walked slowly to alarge sycamore. Alfred glanced
furtively around, as if questioning the wisdom of his gen-
erous indulgence,

“Alfred,?? she began, pleadingly, ‘will you tell me your
plans again? Will I ever be restored to my friends???

He seemed pondering the question.

“asked your help last night,?? he gaid.
venge,”? ;

“T promise you to demand my fortune as soon asI am
set at liberty, since my identity is known to you and can
no longer be kepta secret. Andalthough this will revoke
my bequest to you, I will double it—nay, give you more,
Oh, let me go!”? ;

“You don’t-understand——"? ‘

“I can never regard Harold Walsinghom 4s my hus-
band again—neyerl Althea will be punished sufficiently.
AS its, Wiluout my raisiug My haud needlessly against
her.”?

“But T will be revenged.
not himder,

  
 
  
 
   
 

“T want re-

If you willnothelp, you.shall
Here you stay unul I return.”

cause §
pee niind of the mercenary wretch. When she thought of
the care and anxiety she hadbgiven these two fovie men,

 

end the

fowling aud went out fora few hours,
viract any person's ntiention, for surely this pluce could

nos be quite beyond the reach of human beings.
So she’ ug gay Carols that bruught the tears to her
sor

eyes, so sorely did hér heart ache. Sader melodies tint
might be the Wail of wood nyniphs over the Jost
and in that interval she listened,

The change and excitement appeared beneficial in one

respect, for atjast she paused in absolute hanger. And
then from herself-consiitvated dial she saw tuat the sun
had passed the meridian. . Yet no figure came in sight to
greet her longing eyes. Nuw and ben a squarrel ran to
the end of a bough or paused to-chatter with hig neighbor,
and once she, shuddered as a snake wound his lengih
slowly along over the mossy Carpet, picked out with clus-
tering wintergreen berries,

No hope ofrescue. Mrs. Hughes wouid soon be here,
And them She resolved to besieve her with all the elo-
quence ‘at her command. Publicity mest come soon,
She would be restored to society and fortune, and could
refvard-as well 4s punisty “Hateful as this rough, Vulgar,
avaricions woman was in her sight, she was ready to be-
stow any thing upon her for the desired freedom.

». Perhaps Afired mad been unable to convince the Wal-
Singhams of her existence. She thought of them now
With a strange aversion, as if she never could look upon
their faces again. In her mind they were jndissolubly
linked togetifer. ‘

her to shower blessings and affection upon them both, had
perished utterly, Not thathiute hud come in its place, but
wioathing so deep that it roused every pulse of her being
into abhorrence, The old lime was like a fearful dream
sent to warn one, i

Tier only fear was lest Alfred should .bring them with
him. How could she meet then Jriendiess and alone?
If Doctor Macdonald could but be here with his courage
and Jearvess truth, ;

She had referred Mrs, Tlughes to Doctor Bartholdy be-

knew his apie means would be likely to sway

her heart sank within her. ow could she ever repay it?
Aud now how intense their sutferings must be, tortured by
2% thousand borrible doubts, Would Mra, Haghes go.and

‘ful Suspense? Oh, if she had only been more

urgent her persuasions.

li ske might

god lon;

Tite tender love that had once prompted.

be brie!i’” —_——
CFPAPTER IX.
WAS >IT LOVE?

The spirit of desperate resistance, the deathless struc-
gie lured on by hope, that we all make in any extremity,
was over for Muriel Quinell. | Parily from physical weak-
ness, as Well as Wie Certainty that nothing could avail her
now, she Iny quiescent, the long hair, soit and shining
as sunlight iiself, streamed over :the pillow, the tuir face
Was calm, though a fewer flush flickered over itin dying
hight and grace, leuding a peculixr radiance.

Her bram began to wander, Not through the scenes of
that old love, nor the grave in which she once had jain,
This was a dream so periiously Sweet that she had never
uured to linger over it with health anda future before
her. But now she roamed in a delicious, enchanted land,
Birds snug and flowers. bloomed in the radiaut air, and
the murmur of winding streams swelled the low chords
of melody. Dark, deep, impassioned eyes smiled upon
hers, warm hands clasped hers until every traant pulse
Uirilled, and the waft of fragrant breath was on her cheek
aud brow. Was it kisses tat seemed to kindie new life,
a swift, exultant fire that went leaping through her whole

frame, sudden, forcefal, recalling herto earth again, or

was it a biissiul, glimpse dream in far Paradise?

Silent and motionless she lay like some fair-corpse. Oh,
did that tumult below rouse fier, that sound of eager
voices and the crash as the Jock, splintered out of its
worm-eaten bed? And the hurrying steps, the bolt) un-
drawn, this lock, too, yieldiug.tu the passionate, super-
human strength. ‘ eeth 40

“Great Heaven!” and the cry of eee rang through
the room; ‘is it too late? JIsshe dead? ® —

Hie covered the face with Irantic kisses. Sweet, pale
dips that answeted> not again, heavy-ldaéa eyes that
could hot unclose, limp, nerveless hands crossed upon
her breast. And then he caught herin his arms and
rushed down the old stairs-that seemed to ereak with sud-
den apprehension ,

“Let nie take ner ont of this accursed placel’’ he cried.
“Out to Heaven's pure air and green eurth, for this musty
hole is not fit fora human being. And tit she has suf-
fered here for days alone, starved, tortured by thirst. Oh,
itis anonstrous! } wel

 

Louis. Burtholdy sat down onthe soft, rank grass, ‘sui
holding ber in his arms. Yes, she breatived.

of the back.

cess in eating ahd drinking.
Salt, fubor rich food.

aud shell-lac. The latter is prepared by Melting the stick-lac ‘or
ed-lnc, previously deprived of its soluble coloring .matter,
atning it, and pouring it on a flat, smooth surface to harden. I:

is the chief constituent of sealing-wax, is used a8 a varnish, and
forms an. excellent cement, \2. Goop MUCILAGE FOR ILOUSEHOLD
PURPOSES.—Mix three ounces of ful-arabic, one ounce of. White
sugary and@)iliree ounces of distilled yinegar. The government
postage stump mucilage is made as follows: Gum dextrine, two
parts, acetic, acj, one part, water, five parts, Dissolve im a
Wwater-bath ahd add alcohol one part. 3 Keep it well painted.
P.S. and E..7'. Emerson.—Sce Preceding “answer 8 suet =

‘WM. D. and Henry F.—Sutphuryet of barium will remove super.

fluous hair, but it wiil grow agains; 2)... i eekly .—

jar mm your habits; retire to bed early; pad bap ee and
bathe your eyes occasionally in tepid water.. Also take all the
outdoor exercise youcan...:. 2 ¥. H.C. ahd Martha Morion.—To
starch shirt-bosoms, etc., see No, 52:of volume 29. 10. Anrious.
—Beuzine will clean kid gloves... af A. S—We cannot aid you.
ielete be .Hindoo.—You will have to use your own jadgment in using
it. We do not know the exact pro ons...0... .. Sig. Jim.—t.
Meerchaum dust is used to polishthem. 2.'Pry lime and white of
eg: -Wervous.—Rapid circulation of warm blood...... Charles
J.—1, ‘fo soften and whiten the hands, use glycerine and lemon
juice. 2, Tannic acid will harden the feet... ... B. F. T.—BRoNz-
ING Brass BLack.—First polish the object with tripoli, then
wash it with a mixture composed of one part a nitrate of tin,
and two parts of choloride of gold.» Allow this Wash to remain
| Surge mnboules Smeode o a a linen cloth. An excess
of acid increases the intensity ot the-tint..... A Subscriber, B.. B.
and J. D., Willie Payne, W. W., Jrv., Lilly and Snowdrift, G. G.—
Your letters have been received, and will be answered as soon as

possible.
_ MEDICAL DEPARTMENT.
Eric.—For irritation of neck of the bladder, ete., see No. 8 of
volume 30. ;

Thomas.—1 and 2. If you drink tea. or coffee, take bot
weak and not very hot. ake both very

. D. N.—1. For catarrh, see No. 49 of yolume 29. 2: T
dos’ of castor oi! occasionally, or Rae re ie
Anz Father.—1, Consuit a good family doctor... 2. To dis-
guise the taste «1 castor oil, see No. 1 of yoltime 30.
W. W. W. and mang ery Sep go Styes,see No. 49-0f volume 29.
A. W. C.—For boils, see No.5 of volume 30,. a
oder Tae require a pbysi¢ian who can give you his personal
“nD ul, Cs s ba7i| } : 3 & ids
my C. 1. H.—Make a knot_in a piece of cloth of any de-

scripUiou, dirid so adjust it as to'bring the knot about the middle

of ¢astor oil occasionally,,and avoid ex-
Avoid, especially, the use. of very
Also wash in cold water, night and morn-

Dewny.—Take a dose

ng.

_.Western boy, A. B: GC. D.; A Sufferer, A “Bandit,?? Roy., Oba-

 

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Wall St. Review and pamphlet sent ree “ok MICKLING Nae

E,” (Pat.) a perfect-looking
SEGAR PIP ( )a pe coe

RT OF CANVASSING, or Agents Guide.’’—

sihiag Se On NNON, 46 Kneeland st., Boston, Mass. ~ | from the socket-bone in the back.
aaa $34 a week ov

WEED, Biehth St. New York. |

-
\ $77 A WEEK tocanvass fm’ Viekery’s Fireside
, 7-52. Augusta, Maine.
\ > iT! leet temepeince danger,
,

[

‘| when washed.

_ “Young Wife” says that her husband is a0 -ke
‘| salary ot $1,500 a year, and he has gater ‘pt
eig
| mith) how your husband has managed to sa

of your handsome. skirts,

in an instant of time.
amazement when realizing the fact that a gnat’s
wing, in its ordinary flight, beats nearly a thou-
sand times a minute, or that there existS animat-
ed and regularly orga
sands of whose bodies

DECALCOMANIE PICT URES, ani 60 page
2008: tor 25 cts. J. JAY GOULD, Bostou,Mass, |
48-Lleow, aes

‘ ARR’S SLIDING-SCALE RULER.—The most
practical, rapia, and accurate Calculating Machine in use
for niaking computations in, time, interest, discount, Maturing
notes, equation GP ackounts: ete.” Price $2; prepaid to any ad-
dress. Descriptive circulars free. Address» TH WARR Con-
PUTING SCALE Co.. Louisville, Ky. ‘

Glass and Snowflake Cards.

5 for 50 cts. Local and traveling agents wanted. ‘Large
genta atbest uivem.) Samples for 6ct. stamp. Outfit 26 cts. Ad-
dress 8. E. FOSS & 0O., Cam pello, Mass. WFD i!

The Magic corals

A GRIHAT WONDER, iicsses'

new catalogue, 3 cts. QUEKN & CO., Stoneham, Muss. 17-2. *

20 VISITING CARDS, in Bristol, Snow Flake and
Marble 20 cents, or 4U Scroll Cards of Birds, 5 des
2 cts. By J.B. HUSTED, Nassau, N.Y. ; Wels

REE!—1 peck of fiue ornamental Visite Cards tor /2
Stamps. P. L. SOMMER & CO., Box 12, Newark, N.J. {

THE .NEW Ax? COMFORTABLE

remedy for rupture is new adopt-
ed by ail. weil-intormed:persens. It is worn night and day with-
out apy discomfort; yields to cvery motion or position of the
body; cain never begome displaced by the hardest exercise or
Sever¢st strain»and soon cffects a perfect and permanent cure.
No person hole country will now wear any of the
wr iron hoops, finger-pads, wire springs,
et 2 the new Elastic Truss, A few
ie to sell spring trusses, now steal the
11 worthless ‘Rupture Belts,” bo-
to. ignorant persens, Te
ELASTIC TRUSS COMPANY,
vadimirable appliance by mail at
niry. Circulurs sent on Te-
BS) Broadway, New. York City.
ynestreet, Boston; No. 4 West
Chestnut arent ga tacel
pliay 5 Pen Yani nue, Washington, D. C.; No.
415) ‘Water Street, ukee, and twenty-three other
Prineipal citids: ulars free.

¥, a ah Nal , Agents wanted on salary or com-
A & i ; f

 

 

 

 

 

    
        
   
  

 
 
 

   
 

  
 
 
  
 
 
  

 

 

  
    
 

oq

 
 
  
 

  

 

~~ a i ; oh te c

snificent, ar est interest to Masons. Send for

deter pu veal n is. REDDING & CO., Publishers of
Masonic Works, dway, N. Y. i 144.

sa

THE LADIES” W

THE, PURCHASING AGENCY, CAT , n
changes and reductions in prices, ¥ ie re been forced to deter
| the publication of our New Purchasin gency Catalogue until
the present time. Allorders now recef¥ed will be filled at once.
It will be sent toany address, pre-paid, on receipt of teu cents.

Those of our readers desiring to get throngh with their
spring sewing early in the season would dv well to send
for a Catalogue of spring patterns*at ouce, in order that
they may lave time to select the patterns tliey desire, aud
sed for them before our very busy time commences, Then
their patterns will reach them promptly. To secure this
catalogue, which will contain iliustrations of ali the gar-
ments:to be worn in the spring, and of the latest designs,
you have only to send name and address in full, and six
cents, ;

“Mrs. §,.A. B.”"—jVe can furnisls you with four styles of
patterns for gentlemen's. shirts. No. 81 has a square,
plaited bosom, No. §2isa yoke shirt open in the back.
No. 83 is alSo a yoke'shirt, but opens in the front., No, 84
is a sack shirt openin the back, These paiterns are 60
cents each. Ju order to secure a good filting shirt take
your-measures as follows: For the size of theWeck meas-
ure the exact size where the collar encircles it, allowing
one inch, thus: if the neck is fourteen inches send fora
pattern inarked fifteen inches, For the, breast give the
*} number of iuches around the body, close under the arms,

nieasuring Over the vest. For leugth of sleeve, measure

the neck, over the
highest point of the shoulder vorn the arm to the lowest
point the wristband js to extend, Be careful and not get

the sleeve too short, The vight shirt pattern is No. 1,952;

price 25 cents. The smoking jacket is No. 1,590; price 50

cents. You can make it of reps, caslimere, merino, or

cloth. ‘Trim with silk, or contrasting color in the same

MMe. LW, 1 t ? aa an te : Siab of ts f re

“Mrs. ashington,”"—We uy,2 set of co e fur
. you at any price from 75. ey ma. white or |

Tein lead ania with or n $55 19 $75, hey 8 deatgns in colors. |
“| They are yoy Beat and pretty, and desirable in every respect.

The curtains of) Notting mm e may be bought by the yard or
theypair. The price per yard is from 50 cents to $1.50,
sir you may get them in handsom ,

’ $15,_. Curtains of tambour work are more expensive, also
t _ *-Frenel ; -Fruit-stands of frosted silver, with bowl
‘sraved glass, fost from $8 te $20, and are very hand-

‘mental. The piano-cover may be boucht at any
r to: $15. 5 Those: costing from $12 to $13,
price ffom * “broidered. They come in. such colors
are handsomely ‘roon, green, and mauve color,
#8... Crimson, bite, me “thread. For dining-ro nd bet
chambd itt

 
          

 

RE-BOX.

pE.—Owing fo many

 

 

 

 
      
  

   
  
 

 
 
 
  
 

 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 

     
  
 
  

a
r

aud, eee Ta celeron ‘
fashioned cretonne or chints @ aber” farge figures ‘and bret ,

  

appropriate. This material conies “tt r thr
colors, and looks neat and cozy whet selesten, ei
the faruiture and carpets, a consideration quite ‘ornment ot
the Cecoration of ordinary f@partments as in {He aw but little
drawing-rooms. . There are many things that ¢Ost4. uty of
money and add’so mt the general appearance oF

  

     
   
   

   

 
    
   

   

Tmitatey &

on for something entirely new, |,

Peries of disappointment:
‘} had thus far attended t

. By: the },
qualities, and rangitietent

 
 
 
  
 
  
   
    
  
  
    

@~ ‘nly-furnished rooms, the old- |

 
   
    
  

 

—e

"DRY ADA ROWHNA CARNAHAN, 6 fo) 6) §
ae, Pal bia,
_ She saiteth high ather casement stiil,. see friuet

And-thesun comes up and the sun goes dowh;
At nord she seeth the white sails AN, — —

And At eve the shining lights of the ‘ere
: Were. a vata hae
“The sun comes tip, and the stin goes dow,
And wearily wear away thelydars;)
The.rose he gathered is dry an
And ther eyes are Riga with
: pails ib PAR Re 8
The town lights redden the nig

) And the moraing nh
' Buethé lights are shin! e Way

 

’ “Anite ships are sailing th
le Oftén over her finger sllni |
| § Bhe'teridérty twineth a/treéss’o

* *9 and ofter a missive yellow Ln

; . A glory comet
— - And dieth ‘slo
ly And the noon

 
 

But what is it ih
The town light’ red
. And the morning

But thé lights are; ay he car {
| And the ships-are saili ws

Coonskit

  

fot Som

{“Goonskin the Scout” was cor

bers can be obtained from ai

CHA
_THE YANKEE HAS A)
‘us;now returp to Coonskin and the\Yankee.\ = -

pen Will remember that: we leit ahem hurrying
from the spot where the lz had so nearly ended his:
‘career in this world, witlt the bafied and enraged savages
following in: Close; pursuit, filling the forest with their
ud rage at the ill luck which
mthat nigh.
Like so many ‘demons thirsting for their blood, the sav-
ages Came ou determined that their prey should not es-
cape thein. j
‘The scout knew that lfeior death depended upon their
efforts, and therefore be warned his companion to strain
every nerve that he nlight keep pace: With iim, aud so
manage to cscape. so) Py 4). git:

aivimesde were not lost upom the Yakee, who knew
“how it was himself.’

He had hud a taste of Me disposition’ of the savages
foward him, and was mot anxious for them to have a
chance to show him more of their iuteutions in this direc-
tion. sud # } ;

Therefore he brought his powers of locomotion into
full play, and Coonskin Wad mo further occasion to warn
liim of the danger of falling imto the rear. © 'Tp'such good
purpose did hese tris lugs that the scout,,who was swift
in iis: motions, found that foronce the Yankee was full
‘His’ mateli in this respects. He kept as.close to his side as
‘Ahougtt he had beemhis shadow. ) WE
"| Onvthrough the forestithey fled, leaping over such ob-
structiens ug lay indteir path, obstactes such us§ fone ex-
cept the Scontand his frightened companion could well
‘have surmounted; and wilich even they might have hesi-
tated dt hud mot the race before them been that of life or
death.e (atohiie.

{ Nous dozen rods behind them came the savages, strain-
ing every nebve to overtake them, They were us silent as
many dusky/phantoms now. a :

Their other victims had escaped them, for the time be-
ing at least, aud tley didnot mean that these should give
them the slip. ify ut ; Py

They wee well ilit one of them must be the’ dreaded
pale face, who. fu long been a scourge to them) and
: jim into their clutcles their tr Pe
am though all the rest of thei’ fel

 
 
  
 
    

13. Back num-
United States. }

  
   
 
   
    
   

 
        

 
  
  
     
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
   

   
 
 
 
   
 
 

no common fve to deal with. They
idence of his powess to be deceived
pe had he eluded them when they felt
thay did now, PT er pe

1 EPéed Of thé wind, fled the s¢out and
“ora time theif course had been in the
earing, Whither the scout had bidden
his Companions repair that they might

[ie deserted cabin. °
01 before the scout found that he was

 
 

 

his compant
direction of 7
Philip Maso;

   
 
   

 
 
  
   

Off the Savages as easily as he had
» Th Spite of his utmost efforts he felt con-
inced thariey savages were slowly gaining upon them.
‘He redoubied_ his etforts, bidding the Yankee do like-

   

      

 

a homie, such as pi little brackets and other ornare.
These we can get you, also anything else you may please t@
der; for instanee}) carpets; Deu afd table limen, hardware;

C., &C. sided ri
“dlrs, Lascelles."—To inake a faslitohable suit “set*) all rigtit,
you mus: hive, the tecessary accessories, The cetset should ap !
pear a purt’of the form, or & molding for it, and (se underskiris :
should be gored, and only gathered in the back, While the fronts
and sides are only fulled enough into the banés'to keep the
skivts from’ appearing drawn; fhe other undérgahents may
be made as usual.
tles are not required when the costume is trimmed h¥ the back. |’
Many of tho, new suits are made in-tue plaitipet Style>, Some
skirts ate not trianned at all, and the polonaisés; or, basqves and
ovSfakitts to wear with them, may be perfectly plain, or deelab-
orager? Ragnitured as ihe wearer desires. Fikes
“Qhiadiaes’=\Ve would have to devote our entire articld to fe-
scriptions of the Jagterns you desire did we comply wilh your re~
quest, so % will be fay easier and more: satisfactory it you will
send yourume and Addyess in full, also six cents, and we will
post you a ca&alogue of spring patterns, in which’ you cuit see

 
  
 

  

 

  

  
  

lustrations of ail the nef styles, ictal S491 4
¥ ‘irs, Martut,—=We consider Blood’s needles -the very best in
market. They are o¥, good steel, ate perfectly smooth and have
large, finished eyes. Ses, we Cam get needles, thread, and all
kinds of fancy goods for yan at whosesale prices. ret

‘“‘Anrora.”’—Your fancy. dress sliould D¥ # tratling robe_ of,
gray tarlatan with an overdress of rose-ddlor, and a‘tull va

3

  
  

with rays of brilliants amd gold. ®yyilight”? shold wear a train-
ed robe of # darker shade of gray, ane a vail. ot amethyst-color,,

fastened on by a silver cresc@nt, aud spangled 1a lew silyer
stele Nahe can wear a bineke sills, mitaig tra and cover: \
with three skirts of black silk uti ot Pea Pa cpeh
‘the hair siould by word filling loose:

‘I coverad wee llipg

a month old, a
We

        
 
 

    

    
  

   

studded with silver stars.
over the bare neck
vail, pinned on with &
ed with stars... “Th 8 @ is of b
skirt short, trimme: 0 gt black ¥
with tive rows of rich. lace. tis a ja
cheokered with narro Naber set. at.
With gold: spangles Or o« tha had at
-ered to correspond, and gathered, @ the lett side by a>
girdle of black vely ahre

being sup dagger. The pe

»

ng supplem ited.
cheekered’like the jacket, aud ay with © sibehee

e, jaunty ost ee . { 4
“D f ike) a Kind of kerelvict of thin
der with H. Jdngertion; A
od, finished wi
JES" Tiere tT 72 ci

—_ ’ wore both Be S
also for b 6 hayes Ist Several:
tucks upon Bete nusiin make abe, ging
The sleeves are frdde jm the same m nné » al ;
Hamburg in: : en collars, high and
bands to ve jonable, kties o
ends, or ties ot white lace, are again imstyles |) ©.
‘‘Mother.’—One of the most useful patterns w
“Childs ren,” ru No. 3,605, 8 10
in all sizes for chil rom
Neo re sale a ee ae like a p
the top to e neck and showlders, nb
calico, whith will ‘retain its color & Yer tthe. O

 

   

 

   

   

  

  
 

 
    
 
 
 

     
  
   
     
  
   
 
  

 

   

which he tells her she can spend. to replenis
is a little rusty, asshe has been marri

plenty of wraps, and even dresses enough, only th ay
puta style, She would like; slie says, u hamdsome:s

a beaded overgarment of cashmere. We can

500, and we cannot sufficiently comme i
nerosity in giving the money to y9u, anu
onfldence is not misplaced you must p
ancing over your list we see that you
Th x aringaty and that a be ¢ither ot bl
#his is. a polonaise which can, if yon,
Trom $15 to $35 4

, and will be quite ‘ant. en
Pitty Sellers wil
require for SEting wear. Put aside fifty

husband's use, and put the foar hundted ity
egg, or for housekeeping. il fi
on your back now wlien yon are far from f
Box is your friend ;, take sits mdvice.: Acniost s
pattern of polonaise suttable to wear With old skirts
price 26 cents... This is and eu. ‘plaits

nd waist: The cont

and front up the skirt Ab oa es and all 0 sk a
uttons, Tlie arment can.
mm t ware garment can | ©

 

 

ib

i
be perfectly sumple, but will ad
tions, f

1 eff he

and waist can be trim
it lof shoondet te decora-
#) Gaeipw a

 

wv

of time, in one-beat of the peridiilum of ‘a, clock, |

a tay of light..travels over 192,000 miles, and

would, therefore; perform'the tour of the world
in about the sane tne. tha it 2 :
our eyelids, It is not dificult to-believe that the

sun is almost a million tities Jarger than the
earth, and that, though so remote:from us, a can-
faaiten ote irect] a pee aren a
lng its full speed, wou Wwenty years in reach-
ing it; still it affects the earth Darlin attraction
Who does not feel lost in

jzed beings, many thou-| w
aid close together, would

 

not extend over a single inch.

 

 

 

           
       
  

 

Yes, smalt hoops are worn by ma@@y,; but bus- 4...

pale Lihat not @ ray of Rglit could penetrate, even siiould: the
ott ST mot ; n ey
sky-blue tulle, confined on the heas by 2 07 made of brilliants;! moon be sirin

igh

hhe plunged thereip, and then in a moment, after turning
sharply to‘the left, he threw himself prone upon the earth.

 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  

did‘likewise, aud side by side they Jay, holding their
brgeln and listening for the coming of the savages.
Tue

neater, and atiast the savages came abreast Lhe spot

wit
Ae usition of relief Was experienced by both, but it

Sv

   
    
 
  
 
 
 

“Hush? pried Poonsk is Nain.
Yedskins are coniing back ‘or, at least the scout was

not aware that. this was tle case “a ey
any other way in which

Yankee, now thathe ha
Hie had had a

Was thankful. felt tl he owed. “Out this much-
prints willdo, You can ruffle the edges, or; thing for what they had done to bring av, \
Se nereae you orn ne “a KY desired result. ‘ ; ; *.. \ad both Is
a apne 10 elie one, ¥ Oican The Yankee was as mute as death now,a.™.- put the
pia, alarsetives Or diaper, and ether trim W m- | tened for the returning footsteps of the euemy, ~~ in tho
with a | Cid not hear them, and hope 1 to spring ap sem.
6 heart Of the scout that they had rid themselves of tL. ~~ -xted

again in case he remained: beside ‘him, and so bring |
enemy down upon them, when finding that they h
ae ait should return to the spot in search o
ae yeene to ascertain, if possible, tneir whe

would fot have consented to this separation ey
few moments, ag he remembered what had chan
1m

y | consented, although it was with some misgivings that he
| Saw tie scout steal away, ieaving him to himsel

| 3¥as unbroken,
real
j'serted him.

‘} met h
to himself.

WoNDERS oF rin ‘UniversnIt is a tact, and a Was a darned fool to let him go without me, But
yet how wonderful to 'realizé, that in ono. second | didn't seem ag though Lcould get off from. the ground.

lum I would give a dollar."

ir warning he had received from the scout, he moved awa
uires to: wink from the spot in the direction he haa seel Coonskin disap.
pear,

rods, trying to catch a glimpse of his companion.

-The moon had risen, and its pale jight seemedina
measure to dispel the deuse darkness which had reigned
around, Yet everything was indistinet, and an object | T
coul:l be recognized only a short distance in advance,

te himself.
you cap on A flea.
that I shall get my throat cut. Everything has gone wrong

What I've gone through within the last twenty-four hours.
The redskius must happen to be on the Yalpage, and

as Bullit availed vue vele, cate
~ To lead thenrarotnd to the clearing whither the fugi-
tives had gone, Coonskin saw would neyer do. Jt would

   

self before him. M
“next to impossible LQ saare}

  
   
   
  
 
  
    
 
  
   
 
 
  
   
 
 
    
 
   
 
  
   
   
 

}matched.

‘seeking to discover the whereabouis of himself and the

18 ; “S00n return, ox that ae mee already! done so by a differ-
¥ esi 31:5 Gd sca tp} Cb YouLe and so escaped hismoticemiai sco: 4

ent all weap aol 54 tee , bor, ; here seemed nothing for him:to do but ito Yemain where

om yet ah 1 Speed of the fugitives, | He.Was, and -keep a sharp :lookout. fuye'a ‘few moments

z * hee et that ti t sl im-

ot Over Confident of success, ‘They longer _ During that time the Yaukee migtit shift for him

now, more than ever, thatl Was
born under the dog star. Hellol so here you are qt jastl?
The outlines of & human figure suddewy presented it:
In the din, aay HNderidiv light it was
i! fii its identity. At that mo-
ment the ‘vannéé Was thinking of no one eXcept the scout,
atid grumbling because he bad Jeli hyp, The Wea iat jt
could be any ore elsé did not éntér his mind. 7
The figure strode toward him, making no answer to this
hail. The Yankee stood motionless in his tracks until it
was within a couple of yards of him, Then he gaye a
en start and burst out with:
sh atl Nemlock! «t’s an Ingin}’?
sure enough it was. Hurdly had the Yankee giver
ice to this exclamation, and fallen back a piece in
Surprise, before a tomahawk whizzed past his head, so
etiiat he instinctively put up his. hand to gee that it
of grazed hig cheek, Jt had donehim no injury, but
ye Could recover from his surprise the savage
On him and clasped him ina deadly embrace.
founded was the Yaukee by this sudden assault
Rh moment he was powerless in the hands of his
ut the danger of his situation coming to
he Summoned all his strength and strove to
wage from liim, but he could not do it.
in-had’ Jost his tomahawk, and as it chanced
tall the weapon he possessed. Fortunately, he
hife or he would) have made short work of the
He could have plunged it into Lis breast almost
ore the latter’ had known of his danger, or ratlier re-
red from it, so as to have been able to lift a flnger in
lis own defense. ital
For full a minute.the struggle for the mastery went on.
It seemed that so far as. sirengih went they were equally

oes

But the Yankee was'doomed to mishaps.
_ He made a misstep and went down tikes log, with the
Savage upon him, who in a moment had him by the
throat stifling the cry he set up for help.

 

CUAPTER XIv.
THE MOVEMENTS OF THE SCOUT.

When Coonskin left the side of the Yankee it was with
the intention of returning to him: again in a very few
minutes,

He wished, if possible, to ascertain if the savages had
Kept on as they supposed in the pursuit, or if, haviug dis-
covered their misiake, they were hanging about the spot

Yankee,

_ If the coast was clear they would hurry away from the
Spot at once and endeavor to reach the clearing and re-
gain his friends, There was also, another reason which
we have before stated. Ie wanted to be apart from the
Yankee, for he was fearful that the latter’s tongue, which
was such anunruly niember, migtit be the means of get-
ting them into trouble as it lad on a former occasion.

Leaving: him, therefore, almost before he had a chance
to remoustrate against his doing so, the scout glided si-
Four through the thicket in the direction the Savages had
taken.

As noiselessly as a shadow he had made his way on-
ward for quite a dist&uce, and was just on the point of
turning back again when he suddenly beheld the outlines
of a savage close beside him.

In an instant he stood as motionless asa Statue, trust-
ing that the redskin might pass him by, as it chanced that
he was Standing close to the trunk of a tree.

As he hoped the savage glided past and disappeared in
the djrection of the spot he had leit.

Ue was on the pointof following, fearful for the safety
of the Yankee, when another and still another glided past
where he stood and disappeared in the same direetion.

Thanks to his position neither of them had noticed him.

Motionless he stood waiting for the rest, but‘mo more
appeared. G1NGa.,

What had become of the rest of the party ?

From the cries that had filled his ears, and from the
glimpse he had got of them, he felt suré that there must
have been a haif score or more, se eigheating

The woods had seemed to be full of them, and he was
positive that the party had been largely reiuforced since!
he had first set eyes upon it, : tH

Had they gone on in aimless pursuit of him, or had they’
reached the clearing which he ‘knew was but a short dis-
stance away, trusting that: they might find there the otier
fugitives who had escaped them? ’

_ | dt was impossible for-iim. to: decide in his own mind
which was the true state of affairs, » .°° 1
_ Perhaps it might be that the rest of the savages might

sty
A couple of minutes now passed, during whieft he did
not stir trom his tracks, ;

“mo more Of the savages put in an appearane
last he cate to the couclusion that his surmise
—that a portion of them had sought the clearing.

He knew of no otner way in which to account for their
absence, If saeh was the case the sooner lie reached its
neighborhood the better,

Tie woul return for the Yankee and then set ott at
once in the direction of the cabin.

He had Mot made up his mind on the course he would
pursue, and was on the point of retracing his steps to-
ward the place where he hud left his companion, when vie
As startled by two sounds coming from Opposite direc

ons. :

One was theeréport of a rifle. the othera sharp, quick
cry for help. “The former came front the direction of the

and at
as right

>.

 

subjecting his ftiends anew toa fate akin to that from
Poe they Had Just escaped. ‘
rheremre le suddenly changed his coarse, and res Ived
ee tarve tile iu any new diteatty.” Ho ‘ay least
covld Jeacl the PIr1y 1n pursuit of him so far away’ that
they doula doyo hats fora time, at least. 2
i ywjialf mile Mey Sped onward, and then, to
jie found that they were increasing the
+ hem,
ward through the finon showed him no
skins. He paused for au insiant and
ying that they had abandoned the pur-

      
    
   

      
          
   

   
  

   

A glance
sigs of the
listened, li
suit.

In this; h er, he vas disappointed. He could hear,
tleir footstepsas they caine omward close behind.
p Moon Would be up in & few minetes now; and this
wotid aid the savages rather fhan them, — i
momeul’s thought decided him to adopt a new method
of procedure,

‘Close before INm was a thicket of evefgfeens, ad dense

   
 
 

 
   
  

  
    
    
    
    
     
 

Bidding the Yankee follow him, with nofseless. footfalls

is companion, obeying his hastily-whispered command,

y were nos loug kept in suspense,
Te swift footstepsof their pursuers sounded nearer and

tliey were lying, and without pausing hurried on.
aonly mémentary. If the suvages were thrown off the |
, Coonskin knew that it would be for a few moments
*, Jt would only be a'short time before they would
OUlticit mistake.

    
 
 
  

 

     

eq! He Salil it'a, whisper to the Yankee, “we must
y?

‘ a@ asked’ liis companion, in the same tone.

i éel.as though I would like to
' e did streak it through
+) and 1 guess I answered
1 You. times them ere things fly
; 5. Serned if f didii’t think we should.

 
   
 

part, and Il be a. ee ik aaa ae
ght leg is nigh abo. “°S in a fhritiing whisper. “The

 
 
  
 
  

This was not strictly true, . “3; put he did not know
\ tadily silence the
te Coulu Songue running again.

Got his t. ne, and’ for this ‘he
ite for some little t, ‘the savages some-

 
  

    
 

  

Feariul that the Yankee’s tongue might get sta. ye

x

both directions at oneée to aid those who, il a measure,

| direction of the spot where the Yaukee’s voice had been

clearing, aud the tatter from the Spot where he had parted
from the Yankee,

The different sounds told him that he was needed in

were under his protection,

For a minute he stood undecided what todo. Another
sound decided him.

A shout of triumph from the savages cOming from the

alia told him that he had fallen once more into their
1dnds.

His first impulse was to hurry to the spot and once more
ates. his deliverance from the savages. Then he hesi-
tated,

If they had not taken his life, as the chances were that
they had, they would be apt to- see that he did not slip
through their flugers again.

His success in thi8 direction he felt would be small, and
it seemed to him that his duty called him in the direction
of the clearing, where he doubted not that the fugitives
were besieged. He might be of some service to them,
white in the case of the Yankee it was doubtful. He had
already risked much on his account, and placed the safety
of others in jeopardy.

He decided that his duty Jed him.in the direction of the

place where lie would be likely to be able to do the most
good, and glided swiftly away in the direction of the clear-
ing, impatient to know what was going on there.
The report of the rifle had told him what to expect.
That the fugitives were in trouble he had nodoubt. If
they were within the cabin, as he hoped, they could make
good their defense for awhile, ;

With these thoughts filling his mind he went swiftly on-
ward, taking good care not to be surprised by an enemy
who might chance to cross his path,

The moon was up now and he could see his way com-
paratively well. ‘here was no longer avy danger of
stumbling Over a savage in the darkness, Fi
No souud came from the clearing, which he was rapidly
approaching. Ifa struggle was going on it was being
conducted almost noiselessly. Neither party were having
further recourse to firearms. «

For some fifteen minutes he hurried on in this way, and
then a break jn the forest befure him told him that he was
approaching the clearing.

Vith redoubled caution he crept onward, and at Jast
stood upon the very edge of the forest. Before him stood
the cabin lying peacefully in the pale moonlight.

There were no signs of life about it, and he thought he
must have been mistaken in supposing that the report of
the rifle he had heard had come from that direction,

From the direction he had approached, only the rear o-
the cabin was visible. The enemy, if there was one,
would doubtless be upon the other side trying to force an
entrance by the door,

A minute more and a sound reached his ear, which told
hint that all about the cabin was not as peaceful as he had
thought, A sound like ihe report of a heavy blow came
to hi rs and awoke the echoes of the forest about him.

He was not at a joss to account for this.

Hidden from him by tle cabin itself, the redskins were
endeavoring to foree the door by the aidofa battering-

 

 
 
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
    

in bade him lie where te was, while he st

itnot been for the race he had ran, the

before when they had been parted for a ilttle t
ut the earth felt s0 good to him after his fatigue that he

again.
Some five minutes passed, and the silence about him
To him the time seemed longer than it
was, and lie began to fear that the scout had de-
sitting up, he bent his head and listened. Nota sound
ike er Rising to his feet he listened again, but with
like result.
‘Jerusalem! Tain’t a-going to stay here,’’ he muttered
“He went that way and I’m going to foller
im. .The moon is showing a littie now, and I can’t miss
darned if 1 wasn’t so near tuckered out that It
his is the master-night’s work I ever did in my hfetime,
wish to gracious it was morning. Oh, dear! ifI was to

Thus communing with himself, and unmindful of the}a

He moved slowly onward for sométhing like a dozen

“Where in nater did he go to, I wonder?” he muttered
*You can’t put yerhandon him more than
I do believe that he will work it yet so

ith me ever since 1 came into this pesky country, See

 

means of get.
cabin, it migh:
good their es¢ape.
supposed thathew.  *,
them sooner tha' this.

obliged to accomplish sinc
they might now have
had passed conkd not be Wetped,
them out of their present difisulty.
the risk of discovery, At any Moment ao ;
have to pass about the corner of the cabin, .
Should be the case his syproach would\be discos
ages had not effected an emtrance. ’

and caleulated the chances he would have in gea¢hing We -
vicinity of the cabin unperceived by them.

account for it,
trance, and were even then slatghtering those within?

Would have announced their success:. Some sound of str
would have come to him had the work of blood been go-
ing on within.

on the point of ruuning the risk of crossing the clearing,
When two things oceurred whicl: caused: him to suddenly
chauge his mind.

ram which they had improvised from a log of wood which

they hac fonnd near at hand.

This he was as cerfain of as though he conld see the
Me proceeding. Ht also assured him of one other

he which was thatthe fugitives were hiding in the

pe. They had obeyed his directions and reached there
nD.

safety.

“Not sure, though, but that he had been the
e was i.

‘ing them inttoa Wee Had they avoided the

* have been that they would have made
But wiien he had sent them there he
snld have been able to haye joined

“Mo the work which he had been

‘e he had parted with them.
9M 25 8000 as he had intended,
“pg distance from the spot.
to think of this, hat

He had had no idea «

Ovuld hie have rejofed thy
ave Deen a i,
It was too late now, However,

“to endeavor to get
The one thing fr him te do was

But how was he to doit?

~pose himself to
To advance across the clearif« was to ex

‘avage might
and if such
ered.
nd then
Auother blow upon te door rang idtidly @ gay-

\ out, a.
silence followed,

This assured him thht as yet th.

 

 

= = —— ——————————EeEe———————————— —— ———— = ee — ny sa i Ea aa
‘ay or] | SATA ‘then the Allen family couldn’t take no other time to be OHAPTER XV.
ene CALLIOP k..”? Al ‘Einelio|| . WAITING. carried off. I believe , -

BFRER O408 MORE.
Arrested in his hastily: formed purpose, and slanding
motionless in his tracks, Coonskin gazed alternatively be-
fore him and to a point upon nis right. :

Two or three redskins moving about the cabin, claimed
Nis attention, and assured bim of two things. ‘Que was
that as pet téy had not forced an eutrance, and the other
that he would most surely have been discovered had he
made the atiempt to cross the clearing as he had thought
of doing. eS Bee apie ae
At a point upon his right, hardly 4 half-dozen rods dis-
tant, three savages had suddentye emerged from the forest
and were gliding along toward the-cabiu,

In the midst of them was another figure, which he wag
not at a loss to identify. It wagsthat of the Yankee, his
tall form Jooming up like a n-pole among them.

His hands were secured behind his back, fixing him in-
to amore upright position shan that. which he usually
bore. AS no sound of Jamentation.or otherwise was
issuing from his lips the scout felt convinced that his
mouth had again made the acquaintance of a gag.

He was glad to find that the Yankee was still in the
land of the living, although a prisoner, He had been
fearful that, having once more got him in their power,
the savages would not have given him a chance to escape
them again.

Perhaps they had reserved him for the purpose of ¢om-

pleting the roasting When there would be no farther
danger.of their being interrupted as they had once been.
No sooner did the savages about the cabin perceive the
approach of their comrades with their prisoner than they
set up & shout of triumph, which was joined in by tha
hew comers, who hurried forward as fast as possible,
eager to help them in the work which they saiy was not
yet acconiplished,
Their numbers thus augmented, the savages felt suro
that they would accomplish their purpose in spite of the
strong walls of the cabin and the defense those inside
might make.

Secure inthe shadows thrown deep about the spot
where he stood, Coonskin watched their motions.

The time had not yevcome for him to act. He could
accomplish nothing how by showing himself other than,
perhaps, to insure his own distruction. He must watch
and wait,

Carefully noting every movement of the savages, he
stood silently in his tracks,

Not far from the cabin a young sapling was growing,
its trunk as straightag an arrow. It bid fair to make a
handsome tree, and the unfortunate settler hack spared it
on this account. Beneath the branches the savages
paused with their captive. 3225

The scout took a step forward,
tently their every movement.

Couid it be that they were going to sacrifice the Yankee
at thistime? Their movements seemed to imply that this
was their intention. ;

They placed his back up against the ‘tiunk of the sap-
ling, and then proceeded to Jash, him toit.. AWvhven this
was done lis captors moyed on to the cabin leaving trim
to meditate upon his unpleasant situation, and doubtless
to lament the various iwishaps which’ lid’ befalied him
since he had set foot in this part of the country. i

As the scout saw this movement on their part he ex-
perienced a feeling of relief. The fate of the Yankee was
not then to be consummated at once. There was another
chance given himto escape with his life, or rather his
doom Was again postponed for atime. Turning from the
Yankee the scout vow devoted his whole attention to
watching the motions of the savages,

They joined their comrades about the eabin, ahd for a
few moments they seemed to be holding a consultation,
evidently to decide upon the best plan of accomplishing
their purpose,

lt was plain that their attempt to gain an entrance by
the door had been thwarted. Some oiler method of ac-
complishing their ends must be hit upon. ae

At last Lhey seemed to gather about a certain spot be-¢

neath the wali, and for a few moments Coonskin could,
“not decide upon what they were doing. :
, Surely they could not hope to force a passage through
‘the solid timber that formed the wall?
*, Still they seemed to be vigorously working for some ob-
‘ject which to him was incomprehensible. But it was not
long before the truth Mashed upon him. He remembered
that there was a cellar beneath the cabin, and they were
endeavoring to gain admittance to it from the outside.

Ounce within, they doubuless thought that the fugitives
could not escape them. ae

In an instanta-plan by which he might otwit them
flashed across the mind of Coonskin. ;

“Dig away, you darned skunks,” he muttered to bim-
seif, ‘“Ihope you may getin. You are only digging for
yourselves a trap that you won't get out.of very easy. If
you don’t gct yourselves into a fix them my name. ain'’s
Coonskin. I’m might afeared that you'll have more
trouble in getting out than you do in getting in. Most
folks that get jugged find it so.’

Not once stirring from his tracks the scout watched
them at their work, as barrowly asa cat watchés a mouse.
The minutes went on, aud half-an-hour had nearly elapsed
from the time when they had commenced their work be-
fore he saw them disappeart-one after another, as it were,
into the bowels of the earth. |

This was asigual for hiim‘toact. The time had come
for him to strike another blow for the deliverance of hig
imperilled friends, a - :

Fo gonvince himself that the last one of the savages
had disappeared, he Jingered for'a minute longer among
the shadows, anc then glided forth and hurried across the
cleating tm the direction of the cabin. His first object
was to reach: the tree beneath which the Yankee stood,
and set him again at liberty.

Ile gained the spot. without any difficully, or any sign
given him that hedhad been observed.

If there were any savages left above ground they were
about the door, oron the other side of the eabin. Con-
vinced that thus far his motions were nnobserved, he
stepped up to the side of the Yankee and Jaid his hand
upon his shoulder.

His approach had been unobserved, and the captive
gave a start as though an enemy stood ready to take his
life. Thanks tothe gag which his captors had inserted
between his teeth, he'was prevented from ullering any
sound which might have alarmed the savages,

“Hush! For your life make no sound {"’ said the scout,
in his ear, “J’m going to try and save you, and the rest;
but so much as a wh sper may ruin all, Promise me that
you will not use your tongue untill give you leave, and Vil
set you free. If you don’t I shall Jeave you here.”

The Yankee did not possess the power of speech, but he
inclined his head as a token that he understood and ag-
sented to these terms. ‘Then the scout removed the gag
from his mouth, and with a few thrusts of his knife sev-
ered the bonds that bound him to the tree, and the Yan-
kee was again at liberty. '

Had not the scout stood by his side and checked him,
it is doubtful if the Yankee had not, in spite of the
promise he had given, uttered some exclamation of the
joy he felt which might have reached the ears of the say-
uges. But, as it was, the sound died away in his throat
without the words being formed, 80 no harm was done,
and his promise was in a measure unbroken. But Coon-
skin saw how it was, and said, in a low whisper;

“Do you mean to be silent? If you donot, I will find
some way to make you so.”? |

“I will hold my tongue, or cut it out,” returned the
Yankee, in a whisper hardly above his breath.

“Take this knife, and if you havea chance, use it,” said
the scout, in a low tone, as he thrust the hilt of it intothe
other’s hand. ‘The redskins, or at least the most of ’em,
have dug a hole and crawled through it into the cellar,
in hopes to cut the throats of our friends,. Whether they
do or not, one thing is sure—them red devils sha’n’t get
out of their hole again alive. We've got’em now where
I think we can handle ’em. Come on, and wherever you
see the head of a redskin, hit it.”

Having in a whisper delivered himself of this some-
What lengthy speech, the scout struck out toward the
cabin, closely followed by his companion. ’

It was but a few yards distant, and, when about mid-
way between the tree and the cabin, they were startled
by the sound of a rifle coming, as it seemed, almost from
beneath their feet.

It was followed by a howl of rage from the savages,
coming from the same direction, which told the scout as
plainly as so many words could have done, that the red-
skins had as yet gained no advantage.

By the sound he knew also that the fugitives were aware
of the presence of the enemy beneath them, and he hoped

his eyes watelving in-

means help him in the work of slaughter which le con-
leinplated.

A few moments more and they stood close to the aper-
ture which the redsking had made.

It was with grim satisfiction that Coonskin regarded it,
and he was almost impatient for the first of the savages
to attempt to emerge therefrom,

He saw that they could not have set @ better trap for
themselves had they tried their best to have done so,

Motioning the Yankee toremain where he was, the
scout glided to the corner of the cabin, and glanced about
at the doorway.

Before it, with his back toward him, stood a savage.

His first thought was Lo send a bullet through his brain,
but as he raised his rifie he hesitated.

The report might alarm his companions in the cellar,
and this he did not wish should happen at present, There-
fore he must resort to some other means to rid himself of
the savage,

Clubbing his rifle, he crept toward him as noiselessly as
a panther creeping upon its prey.

All unmindful of his impending doom, the savage stood
like a statue before him,

Nearer and nearer crept the scout, until at Jast he had
gained the position he desired, ,

upon ve pais + 1

As though the Instinct he possessed at that instant hac
warned him of danger, the Savage suddenly faced about:
but it was too late—his doom was sealed, There was po
power on earthto avert it. Evenas his lips parted to
utter & warning cry to his companions, the rifle of the
scout descended with tremendous force,

It crashed the savage's skull-as easily as though it liad

 

’
Narrowly he watched for the appearance of the’say ft *

The silence still continued, ane lie puzzled Kisbratn y
Could it be that they had effected! amen!
his did not seem probable. : I
Had they foreed open the devia shont of rival is
fe |! s

. is
Impatient of standing thus idle and uncertain, he wag"):

%

 

elk fag,
AtOpted,

been made of glass, and he fell heavily to the earth, hi

njood and brains bespattered all around. see

* -Toonskin saw that there was no need of repeating his

plow! J£ Was seldom that such was ever the case Will

one he’ 4d:vi#istered.

Hasta’ Wheeling about, he made his way back to the
ankee, who had not stirred tront his tracks

»of th
sit\ he had deft him.

vas quiet {liére, although a sli¢ht sound, as of foot-

All, jying about in the cellar, came to their ears.
teps a uoments liter and a puff of smoke, rising up into
AS few». told them of the new tactics the Savages had

[TO BE CONTINUED. ]

 

 

 

that they might be able to defend themselves, and by this, Fi

 

Swinging his rifle above his head, he Jeaped forward -

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 

DADDAA AR eer

NEW YORK, MARCH 1, 1875.

 

Oe

Terms to Sabscribers :
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Ven

 

 

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ALL LETTERS SHOULD RE ce caientan, TO
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25, 27 29 and 31 Rose St.,N.Y. P.O. Box 4896

 

 

Pernicious Publications.

Some of the daily papers have recently printed
long articles designed to show that sundry ‘bad
boys,” detected in various parts of the country in
bad performances and worse plans of a burglarious
and reckless character, were instigated to their
wicked acts and schemes by the perusal of tales of
adventure. We are not prepared to say that there
is not some truth in these articles. We think it
quite possible that some young people have been at-
tracted to crime by the false fascinations of such
books, say as ‘‘Jack Sheppard,” and it is certain that
immoral works influence their readers in the direc-
tion of vice. But the criticisms and conclusions are
altogether too sweeping. Stories of adventure are
not necessarily bad.
because a murder is described in a novel everybody
who reads it will forthwith set about committing a
murder or will gradually acquire a taste for homi-
cide. The judicious writer always takes care that a
moral lesson shall accompany his story, that the
murderer shall be punished, and that the criminal
shall not prosper. This wholesome effect, at least,
is always aimed at by the New YORK WEEKLY. But
would it not be well for the daily papers to consider
the influence of their own pernicious ‘publications ?
What good do they believe can come from their
minute details of crime and vice in their own re-
- ports of divorce and other cases? For weeks the
New York press has been loaded down to the.col-
umn’s edge with verbatim reports of a trial for crim-

It by no means follows that

 

THE BE SKATING & MASQUERADE.
BY NATHAN D. URNER.

The frozen Jake, like a silver shield,

In the moonlight is fairily glancing,

Their stanas on the lake the skaters take,
The bané strikes up for the dancing;

Then away they’skim in the wild masquerade,
Peasant with prince madly vying,

And trim Polish boots with ermined suits

In ané out through the mazes flying. »

King Charles the Seconds with Swiss girls fiirt,
An Indian, his war-dance shinning,

Slips through the ring where a scapegrace king
With a maid of honor is spinning.

A duchess ducks to a pastry-cook,
A queen, in her jewels and laces,

Keeps stroke in the din with a harlequin,
Whose mask cannot hide his grimaces,

Slim shepherds are tilting with odalisques,
A fool, with his cap and jangles,

Springs wildly apace in a shadowy space,
Where a snow-sprite slips in ber spangles.

There are boot-blacks, newsboys, chimney- babe ’
And pig-tailed Chinamen nodding,

And grave old chaps, in tall-peaked caps,
Under the torch-light plodding.

There are blithe huzzars and stiff grenadiers,
And vivandieres making them merry:

But two skaters stray from the tumult away, ~
As if its glad sounds they would bury.

Like spirits they move o’er the crystal floor,
In his down-gazing eyes a strange far light

Casts a wealth of soft rays, and her upturned face
Is tender and sweet in the starlight.

Like a dream fades the sound of the mad masquerade,
League on league the lone lake is glancing,

But the radiant pair in the golden light there
Think not of the rout or the dancing.

In a blue rift of sky, with her fair face &slant,
The sickle-moon timidly hovers. \

And, lost in the beams of their own perfect dreams,
Below glide the beautiful lovers.

THE POOR OLD TRAPPER

The Melancholy Young Man.
A TALE OF BATTLE MOUNTAIN.

BY FRANCIS 8S. SMITH.

 

 

Away out in Nevada isa place called Battle Mountain,
‘and thereby hangs a tale.”?

Nobody lives permanently at Battle Mountain—tnat is,
nobody to speak of—except the station-master and a few
railroad employees. It is a gloomy, desolate, God-for-

saken region, and the only buildings visible, except the
station, at fvhich the Central Pacific railway train siops
daily, ‘are a few scattered, tumble-down shanties, in
which—so the sign-boards te us—refreshments may be
had.

Perhaps the sign-boards speak truly, but if we should
ever stop at Battle Mountain we oe think we should
sample the refresiments. :

Well, some four or five weeks ago the Bastern- bound
Central Pacific train’stopped at Battie Mountain station,
as usual, and as usual, also, a number of the passengers
got off to exercise themselves and take a view of the sur-
roundings.

Among these was a middle-aged, rather undersized,
but compactiy-buill man, who at once began to walk
swiftly back and forth on the station platforin with, the
evident desire to getupacirculation. | ~ .

He had made but two or three: rapid ‘turns of thie plat-
form when he was accosted by a you eae er
rently about twenty years of age—a , refined, sad-
faced, melancholy-looking youth, who “heart, baal et
from his countenance, was greatly cayenne / who
had evidently suffered more than is usually. the with
those who are just verging upon vigorous m hood.

“JT see you are exercising, sir,”? remarked this youth ‘to

 

aa

    
  
   
  
     
 
  
  
  
    
   
 
   
  
   
 
   
  
   
 
 
     
   
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
 

of thing are well enongh, but the Wwappq

 

rmnarena st

id may I be skulped by an
ty! Then he wanted I

 

like that and I took his bet,
Ingin if he didn’t win myt
should bet»him agin. He he wanted to givemea
show to get squar. Sol bet agin, and he beat me
agin, and I kept on bettin’ ti he won back all the money
he had paid me for the skins. But, never mind, I’ve got
plenty of money left and nobody can ever beat me at that
ome agin, for the skunk showed me how the trick was
/ when hed oul t I wouldn’t play any more, and
i make money out on’t mysel!,”
i four cards and jaid them on

new revelation seemed to
is eye twinkled merrily,
at interest in the game,

,”? suggested the young man,

5] nded the trapper, and ashe
the cards, making @ bend on the
; anybody might easily follow it with

ho trouble in picking out that picture
outh, in 2 tone of derision; ‘I
ave got beaten on that game! I

srolninte
how you could
out mysell!’?
7 — dollars you can’v’ exclaimed the

0 rt. be angry if win queried the young man

pike isin
| course a Parr erous trapper, almost
ntly; ‘aif lose my ey it will be my own fault,”

erat up his. maney raised

phisticated y«
, singularly won.
@ reckless trapper, defiant-
ng man, “but mind, you

ma!” fics tebe
eh earnestness that he
rp ; youth should win

and again, and: every
And then the “captain”
And then the nice
Fed man, and said:
You'd win, sure! I

ppose ht, but the old fool is
determined to
have some of it y

The middle-a ) footed quietly that
wish to break the poor old trapper. “The old
work 80. hard to earn it, you know,’ he
“wonldn’t it bea aerey now to interfere and stop
from ruining himsell ?

“Oh, that would a dol? exclaimed the youth, wie:
ously; ‘these old. tra are very stubborn’ and des- |
perate, you know, and he might take a notion to blow ‘the

top of your head off.” ~

“Well, I don’! want the top of my head blown off, Te.
joined the middle-aged. man; ‘or do 1 wish to’ wit the
poor old man’s money.”? +

“Then bet ‘twenty dollars for me,” suggested the fas-
cinating youth; ‘I’ve got no conscientious seraples—I
think he. deserves to lose his money.’

Then the middle-aged individual turned to the sweet
young many and said, very quietly anu in a tone of ‘deep
affection:

“My dear, sweet young friend, I am very fond of you—
I ilove you very muchi—l have known you but a few brief

 
   

didn’t.
has to

half to a degree winch is absolutely touching. I have a
son about your age, and I know you will pardon me if i
give you.a litile fatherly advice. ‘This beautiful and

ple little game in which you and your noble old friend t

slight improvement onithree-card monte, but not mach.
Now 1 would suggest, in the kindest manner in the world,
that you would succeed better as a thief than as a three-
card, monte player—that is, there would be more money in
it. You have an innocent, pleasant face, and one woulda
hardly think, you meant to steal, even if he should cateh
you with your hand in his pocket. But asa ‘capper’ you
are not a suecess—you. are. too friendly and too anxious,
Now, my hamble opinion, predicated on considerable. ex-
perience, is that.if., would turn your attention to
come honoravle.caling you would find no difficulty in
ihe ing a fortune, for you are smart—smart as chain-
lightning:: °d- enn’ sty as much for your venerable
‘friend, the old trapper, however. 1. don't believe in
‘total ‘depravity, but lam afraid he is@ast amendment.
“Besides, he plays his part as three-cardhyon € player even
worse than you do. He is not tail) noble trap-
‘per we read. about in the story b ake-ap is all
right enough. ‘The moccasins, and legg nd buckskin
jacket, and old slouched hat, and peltry, \

    
    
    
 
  
 
  

moments and yet you have interested yourself in my be- }

trapper ,and, the. urbane ‘captain’ are interested, is- = :

o

 

—half a million in gold! The contestants looked at each
other. There were too reasons why they bid no more,
In the first place there was but one man in Turkey. who
could afford to pay such a price for an addition to his
harem; secondly, it would be disloyalty itself to dare to
bid against him!

HANGING OOT. CLOTHES.

If you are a good husband, of ‘course you have helped
your wife lo hang out clouies, aha you know how it is
yourself,

lt always blows furiously when anybody is a washing. It
is an old saying that “washing. raises the wind,’? and
there is trutain it, And in the winter washing ‘day is
always fearfully cold.

Your wife is tired—women always are on washing days,
and she says how she does dread hanging out those clothes,
and remembering Mat at the altar you solemuly promised
to love, cherish and protect her, you generously offer to
help her hang them out,

Thermometer at zero, and wind blowing at the rate of
ninely miles an hour. The clothes-line is always stretched
on the north side of the house, with especial reference, we
suppose, to just such an occasion as this.

Your wife takes one handle of the basket and you take
the other, Some designing person has emptied some
water on the doorstep, which has frozen, and you are not

 

 

80 Cautious as you should be to see to it that you stand
firm, and the thing you know you are down on the
ice, : and aw goes the clothes basket down over the hill,

with your wife hanging to it like the tail to a kite.

Your r yourself and start after the
briug them back. You think you wi
ing out a. - Asheet will be pla
one up gingerly by the corner, and
with the corners trailing. —

“Oh, Johnt’? cries your wile, in
be more careful! See what a dpea
ot. on that sheet! Yon seize
er the line, and it freezes sti
ee: and is unmanage
ou give it a savage pull and atwis
and the line is loose and s back a
when you let go it springs bac:

amidships, aud away it he
and wiliris it away toa ene corn er,

urselfof it, well filled with snow in gc
0 ee well-known medical eee

 yoe return to the char, owin ng your fingers, and
your pantaioon legs full of , aud your wile tells you
‘you should have put on Mittens. Mittens be—con-
founded!‘ you teli heri ‘emphatic voice. You fly at
the sheet again, and y e tells you to let that sheet
| alone and hang out 80) you cal manage. mie re-
| commends you to try

So you try a shirt, a you hang it over the line with
the neck part up just as it is worn, but your wile tells you
to hang that shirt asit ought to be. The other extremity
belongs up. She takes an inverted view of things. You
try to obey, but the thing has frozen fast to the line; and
in attemptng to break ‘the unfortunate attachment, you
tear off the Gollar-band, and split two clothespins, and
| knock a piece of skin off the back of your hand.

Oh, the unutterable contempt which is expressed on
the countenance of your wife! She calmly reminds you
} Of. the fact, which women are so fond enunciating, that
‘men are a nuisance, and requesis you to go into the house
}about your business.

But you persisi in your benevolent efforts, and seize
upon a miscellaneous pile of rufMied things which are
worn only by the gentier sex, and you bear them ina
‘wrinkled wad to the line and fling them on.

The wind whirls half of them away, in a petrified con-
dition, and yeu cling to thé others in such @ way that the
Jine cannot bear the pressure, and it snaps in two, and
down Gonies the whole concern into the suow and dirt of
that back yard, and freezes~ there in less than a minute.
It will: take gations of boiling water to thaw those clothes
up from the ground, and: they nrust go back Lo the rinse
again, and your fingers feel iike icicles, and your wife is—
excited, and we draw a curtain over ‘te scene.

But we want to say that We man who, under such cir-

cunstances, can k his temper and uot lapse into pro-

fanity, is ready for the Milienium) and may expect to be

amend any day, after se imanuer of Enoch:

Kate THORN.

   
  

possess
d condition
“Keep the

3

Poakites oa

 

 

 

nals are the best advertising motlnm, Few persons, however,

comply with the request........ J.—There are two papers
published at Three Rivers, are ned ly re ete ois Pelvic

res, semi-weekly, and the Trifluvian Trader, weekly...... J. H.,

 
  
 
 
  

 

  
   
   
  
    
  
     
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
  

the Tilton-Beecher trial.

of chloroform.
the worth of lis money in toe{h-pulling.

Trader,
Boston.—Candidates for cadetsbip at the Naval ea eacant: must
be five feet high, between fourteen and eighteen years o ‘age, of
good mora! character, physically sound, and capable of passing
&@ creditabie examination in reading, writing, spelling, arithme-
geography and grammar, Appointments are made oily by

nie and members of Congress......J. J. D—By close
spehe ation, in from one to two years, you may become an aver-
age compositor. Your wages during that period would necessari-
ly be very small. Apply lo the manager of some good book and
job printing oflice.

ETIQUETTE DEPARTMENT. :

Hiss M. F.—We should advise you to send a postal card to the

goniennes in question, asking him it your last letter reached its -
ination, then, if he does not reply to it, drop the corr

ence. Often the mails fail to carry aletter correctly, and ity i

stop at some other town than the one intended.

Annie.—It ig not customary for gentlemen, when calling we
their friends, on New Year’s Day, to kiss the ladies, unless y
are near relations, or the most intimate of friends. —

Nemo’s Daughter,—1st. Your conduct was perfectly correct in
relation to the young gentlemen. Young ladies cannot be
particular in their behavior to young men, with whom they ha’
only a slight acquaintance. The gentleman had no reason to
feel hurt that ves did not request him to walk home with you
that evening. Gentleman No. 2 was exceedingly rude in re-
fusing your Cece to walk up stairs and see your Christmas
tree, and in saying that you need not come to seé his sister’s,
when she had invited you to do so. Doubtless he felt wofully

cross, a8 young men sometimes do, and you had ter tell his
sister the reason why rs did not accept the invitauon. Yes;
we do think that a girl of sixteen years is ‘too young to have a
beau.” She should be at school af that age, and let her mindrun
upon geography, mathematics, history, and science rather than
upon dress and society, The learning you possess can never be
taken from you. 4th. Your handwriting could be improved by
daily practice.

Poor Clubs.—Iist, It was perteony. proper for you to escort the
ladies home; when they called of an evening where you were

ing, even if both of them had proviswey. been strangers to

2d. We do not believe that the jad 17 ¢p whom you are en-

, but do not wish to marry, would esire to sue you for
of promise, if you wrote her in a kindly aw ey y

deeply regretted that you had had occasio: ae

ur mind concerning the marriage, but that sos | such wt ae case,

id you felt that it would be doing her an inju’ re give her
our band and name without your heart. Write ful ys but friend-

y, and she is no true woman, if she seeks redress in courts of
i 3d. Inchvarra is pronounced as spelled; Mezzon1 as if spelt
metzoni.

John Green.—lst, If you pass a lady and genlleman in the
street, you bow to your Tiriend, and recognize the presence of the
lady, whom you do not know, by iifting ng eur hat. 2d. In offer-
ing your arm to a lady, you can say: ‘Please take my arm.” 3d.
See ‘Knowledge Box.”

Frank B.— on vod start out to walk with a lady, or join her
in the street, you should take the outer side of the walk, and if,
in turning a corner, you come on the inside, if the sidewalks are

crowded, you should change sides, to protect the lady from the
crowd, if not, yeu can remain as you were.

 

PASSING PARAGRAPHS.

— It was expected that Thomas Carlyle would refuse
the Grand Cross of the Order of the Bath. Honors of
that kind are no honor to a man who has won greater
honors in literature. Everybody thought he would wash
his hands of such a Bath.

— The lunatics of the Hudson County, New Jefsey,
Asylum, attended a ball recently. Some philosophers
think that the people who dance all night at balls in New
York are all lunatics.

— The baronetcy offered to him was a good thing for
the Poet-Laureate to refuse. The titleis a small one, to
be sure, but Sir Alfred Tennyson does not fit well a man
who thinks that “kind hearts are more than coronets, and
simple faith than Norman biood.””

— The two Kelloggs are alike only in name. The Gar-
ernor is very unpopular in New Orleans and Clara Zouise

is very popular in New York. A

— Itis sail that’ the gamblers are sellipg “pools” on
A very dirty pol certainly.

— The Massachusetts Dental Society condemn the use ©
They evidently vant the customer to get

— Itis said that propscuous kissing among children
disseminates diph\rja, Many grown-up children of op-
posite seXe8 We7id be willing to take the chances.

 
  
    
  
 
     
   
  
 

  
 

 

  
  
   
  
  

  

 

 

 

ea i

ow

    

  

  

   

i tri the middle-aged man, and as he spoke he s heavil reader of romance.is described as ef eR: ed E

ing), gonversation | ty Brogkly a Poee, Artal: znust ‘Yes,’ w . e reply, “it isn’t os the thing to be pete ance, With a bright, clear, bold eye, ag Pie teat i aie ian city in tbe Wetld. Seeeid Miss %eilson acts very well ‘Romeo and Juliet,” but
prove one of two facts—either that the clerical de- | ea up so long in these cars whoa srsing ut briskly | a commanding presence. Now, this ol “= Dae & oe Mr. N<ijson, the Judge of the Brooklyn City Court, acts
fendant is an adulterer and a perjurer, or else that | .\V = the aporcasitoters. Kener oun Ske pap oF When3 features. He looks ke ; ewe nich, in Bavaria. P,exceptionably in the Beecher trial. |

hs swear “T agre urn e ve | Cyote. a ; ‘ |
the journalistic plaintiff is a perjurer and a slan-| jojnea The middieuged coat his walk; “ ust from }.as tho ‘ashamed ‘English traveler speaks of seeing a wild-cof>) __ yiss Alice Dunning has joined the Fifth Avenue _¢=
derer. A verdict of the jury will show that one oot ree Usioui re See ee ncaa ) ne P ' mi 7 his basa ile | tree in Liberia, seventy-five feet nigh! Theater Company, They say this is not the only duet

€ 1 xe i wear et
party or the other is a consummate scoundrel. The | signed deeply, and,then added ashe p re : ket in] take him for 9 sneak-thief “up to pia H — Circassian girls are plenty and cheap (lu year in the | Manager Daly has received a e
New York press does not.permit a single morsel of] his hacaid hee sme are § < am | is a l view peal the deisege wo a a »¢ His | Slave mart at Constantinople, ye Micns on) Se te € ots — ae As he
conan in dread of losing aniné, and yet the conductor | character is.as transparent as glass. HeMpatrapper,| _ ; aes alter the speakership of the next House of Representa-

this revolting and demoralizing story to be lost; the Ml insist on my | always in view. sure enough, but he is a trapper of ‘and Shankind is Choice weeeds, of SARA, #0 Ping sapien? wae Soon ie te Oeeadhed (ial Wk hanks saad ae Ge
whole history is recorded with loathsome nifiitess. They converse on general topics, and at] the only, sort.of game he ever Oe of sk fuing. Her| Channel isiande-+-*™~ Sry :

Will our daily contemporaries tell us whether the
perusal of these reports is likely to make good boys
and girls or bad ones? Would it not be well for the
' Qaily papers to purge themselves of their own per-

_nicious publications?
: oe

A, Chance for Rich ! New Yorkers.

While there is still much conflict of opinion about
plans for Rapid Transit, the movement recently
made for overcoming financial obstacles to the de-
sired improvement is an important step in advance.
The magnitude of the sum of money needed for the
work, and the prevailing doubt as to immediate
profit from investment, are among these difficulties.
It is now proposed to raise by subscription an
amount sufiicient to guarantee the successful prose-
cution of the work, such amount to be contributed
by the subscribers irrespectively of any interest
thereon or dividend therefrom—as a free gift if nec-
essary. The amount thus called for is at the outside
five million dollars. Of courseitis not expected

that that sum will build and equip the road, but it is
confidently believed that with that secured as a
bonus a company could readily be formed in which
all the required capital would be invested with a
certainty of profitable income from the investment.
Now, here is a chance for rich New Yorkers which
they ought to loss no time in accepting. We are
within bounds when we say that there are in this
city 5,000 men who could easily afford to give $1,000
each for the increase in the value of their property
which would result from Rapid Transit; there are
500 who could afford to give $10,000 each; there are
50 who could afford to give $100,000. ° Any one of
these subscription clubs would contribute the de-
sired amount. With this secured, incorporated cap-
italists would be glad to undertake the work.

“The Cash Boy.“

A new story by Horatio ALGER, JR., entitled
“Tae Cash Boy,” will soon be commenced in
the New YorK WEEKLY. Mr. Alger has consented
to address the scholars of the Union Avenue Baptist
Church, Greenpoint, on Sunday afternoon, Feb. 28th.

STRANGER THAN FICTION.

An American gentleman, who arrived by the Havre and
Rouen Railroad, in Paris, a few weeks since, after getting
his baggage passed by the Oustom-house officers, stepped
outside of the depot and engaged a cabman to take him
to the Splendide Hotel, Placed’ Opera. The trunks were
duly brought out, and the gentleman entered the fiacre,
or cab. Off they started at a good, round pace, and as the
traveler, Who was a stranger inthe French capital, had
been informed that the hotel wasnotalong distance
from the. depot, he expected soontobethere. But on
went the vehicle, not so fast now as when he first en-
tered. Indeed the horse seemed to have settled down to
a plodding pace that was natural to him, and the gentle-
man amused himself watching the various sights which
presented themselves upon the streets and boulevards.
They were all so new to him that he hardly realized the
passage of time until presently he feit a degree of surprise
at the distance he must have come, and hailed the driver,
repeating the address of the hotel, lest. there might be
some mistake. But the coachman took no heed. So the
traveler presumed he did not wish to be interfered with,
and that he knew his own business, He took out his
watch. Why, he had been riding over an hour! What
could it mean? Fifteen minutes more passed, when sud-
denly the vehicle was brought to a stand-still by running
into another, and the traveler opened the door and
jumped ont. The driver was dead! The poor fellow,
whose name was Tessier, number 3,117 license, had been
struck with apoplexy, and for atleast an hour anda
half the horse had been plodding through the streets with
a dead driver,

 

 

 

 

 

 

iddle-aged man became deeply interested in
his youthful companion—he was. 80 bland, so polite, so.
everyway prepossessing and at the same time so peculiarly
sad! Besides, he was so exceedingly. well-informed. His
range of observation for one so young wasTeally wonder-
ful. He talked of history, poetry, the fine arts, the
sciences, theology, political economy, 2 ——every-
thing in fact—especially was he well-up in geology, and
while conversing on that interesting subject, he said, suc-
denly:

CBy the way, sir, have you seen the curiosities yonder?”
And he pointed to one of the shanties to which allusion
has already been made.

“No,’? returned the middle-aged man};
they ???

“Relics of Battle Mountain,’ was the rejoinder; ‘‘and I
assure you, sir, they are well worth looking at. One of
the railroad-men called my attention to them or I should
certainly have passed by without seeing them. By-the-
way, I guess we have a few moments yet to spare, and I
will go over with you and take another look at them. Cap-
tain,” he continued, addressing one of the railroad em-
ployees, “how much time shall we have beiore the train
Starts ???

The man pulled out his watch and said, curtly; °

“Fourteen minutes.”?

“Ah, we can see a great deal in fourteen minutes,’’ con-
tinued the youth. ‘Come, sir!’?

They started together, and were followed by the man
who had been addressed as Captain.

“That was'a dreadful affair—that fight at Battle Moun-
tain,’ continued the youth as” they walked briskly along
toward the establishment in which the curiosities were on
exhibition. ‘“There were not so many engaged, to be sure,
but then the slaughter was frightfull Some ‘forty white
men were either Killed or wounded, and the Indians, who
had a force about four times as great as that of the whites,
were totally routed. You wili see the particulars which
are framed and hung up in the house. It seems dreadful
that man should massacre his fellow-man like that, but I
presume that stern necessity sometimes justifies it. For
my part, before I would kill a fellow-creature, 1 would
stand and be shot down” myself!”

“what are

 

The middle-aged mau’s heart warmed toward this
youth, who was so sensitive and delicate, and he could
not find it in his heart to combat ideas so sweetly mild

cally sound.

By this time they had reached the curiosity-shop and } Ww

entered.

There, in glass cases hung up around on the walls, were '

the curiosities and the relics of Battle Mountain—India

arrow-heads, tomahawks, moccasins, eic., together With, ' q he

a large and interesting collection of geological specimens,
spar, petrifactions and quartz of different varieties.

The middle-aged man viewed this glittering store till
satisfied, and was about to propose a return to the. train,
when suddenly his young companion exclaimed:

“Oh, sir! Look herel”?

Turning, the middle-aged man saw, sitting at a fable, a
man some forty-five or filty years of age, dressed in the
costume of a trapper, and having before him a number of
skins and specimens of quartz, which he was retailing to
curiosity seekers,

“JT declare!’ continued the youth inatoneof enthusi-
asm, “here is areal trapper. I have read of such charac-.
ters in border romances, you know, but here isa veryame
old trapper! An old trapper in the flesh! Dressed ju
old trappers are dressed in the pages of romance, and
carrying On the same business. I wonder how many bear
fights he has had, and how many Indians he has scalped,
and how often he las been near death’s door from desper-
ate encounters, and all that! Pll speak to him. Say,
uncle,’? he continued, ‘‘where did you take these skins?
They are really beautifull’ and as he spoke he passed hig
delicate white hand caressingW over one of the furs.

“Why, youngster,” was the reply, “I got them pelts
-off'n critters that afew days,ago war sportin’ arcdnd on
the North Fork. I kin catch all 1 want o’’em. Prsides, 1
pick up a power 0’ quartz speciments all over @ie moun-
tains. Bless you! 1 think nothing o’ travelliy’ from sixty
to eighty miles between sun and sun! Mosg’people would
think this hard: work, but I love it, you ‘ge, and besides,
it’s profitable. I make plenty money i? and as he spoke he
exhibited a pocket-book which con'@ined a fair show of
greenbacks.

“Arm’t you afraid of the Indians? asked the young
man in a tone of great soticitv.de.

“Ingins | exclaimed the @apper with a sneer. ‘Me
afeared of Ingins? I rayt'yer guess not. 1 rayther Kalki-
late not. The Ingins are,afeared o’ me! They know me!
They have attempted tgQift my haar many a time, but
they’ve allers come ts grief! They call me White Light-
ning. They don’t 'fouble me. No, sir! They’re glad. to
keep out’n my W%y, you bet you! No, the wust enemies
lve got are the white men, You see I’m kind o’ simple
like, I supposg, and the critters impose on me with their
tricks. It was only day afore yesterday that one o’ these
pesky skvaks beat me bad. I sold him one hundred o°
these pests at a dollar apiece, and may i be catavompously
clawed upin my next baar fight if he didn’t win all the
monéy bagk from me in less’n ten Minutes, and had the
skins for nothing!”

“Gracious mel’ exclaimed the youth, in a tone of great
surprise. ‘How on earth did he manage that?”

“Why this is how he managed it,”? rejoined the trapper,
indignantly; ‘the interjuced a game. He brought out four
keerds, one of which had a picter onto it, and he Jaid ’em
on the table facedown. The picter keerd he pinched up
on the eend, so that anybody could foller it with his eye,
and then he bet me twenty dollarsI couldn’t pick out the

 

picter Keerd. Well, now, I warn’t goin’ to be stumped

and Christian-like, although they were not exactly practi-- wo esting story 0 of a gow.

{ 1d out for going to-

   
 

is——”
“What'n- thunder do you. no, sir??
claimed the oid trapper, jumping to iis feet and.

suddeniy =X. |
savagely upon the mid

man. =,
“Oh; nothing, said te ale aii j ae ua mustn't |,
lake any ee ote im use to plain speak-
ing. Bentcens wavé made no absolute assertion, you
know, ei ce even man has aright to his opinion. I think }
that you would make more On the highway than you we)
behind that table, and it is quite as reputable a bus*iess,
though more hazardous, But, of course, this iso affair.
of mine.” . ax

The old trapper grew very red in the face, and there was
“plood in his.eye” as he placed his hand upon his. pistoi-
pocket, and exclaimed:

“Dye a great mind to- ”

“Now don’t do it,” irerfiies the
as he swiftly followed the trapper’s

&f:

 

pun

    
 

pay! I’maman of peace, and don’t. wish rouble,
but ve a litle instrument here which spe times
in as many seconds and is Certain death eve ne. Be:
sides, you shouldn't blame me for I'm from w York,
and New Yorkers generally are so suspicious! *They can’t

help it, you know, and you should never quarrel with a
man for what he can’t help. The train, 1 perceive, is
about to start, 80 in the words of ‘the irrepressible and
belligerent but at the same time venerable ce of Ham-
let’s father, aiiow me to say: ‘Adieut adieu! adieu! Re-
member. me?

“You go 1? :

A shrill Scream from the steam-whis
short. It might have been New York
lieve it was, ! bog ge ep man did ane! him to re-
peat it, homever. he Jumped aboard the train, and
took seat to muse upon the variet ways Urat —
dark and tricks that are vain,” fro musin;
doubtiess awoke to the conviction this
celta abo level when he ~~ ae \ is de
ceitful above all things an verano PHS;

Se on te — ee

  
 

He cu the Jat word
n e don’t be-

 

 

    
   
 

An Englishman, } just returned fromt He Levant, tens Pe

 
 

   
   

ing of the owners of ¢his Circassian gem, a relation of
hers arrived, and “aimed her from her possessors, who,
‘it seems, had st jen her from her home. ~He claimed her
restoration tc/himself, but it was all in vain. The posses-
sors of 80 ‘vamable: a piece of merchandise were not the
men to (ive it up through any sentimental weakness. The
was at last relerred to the pasha's arbitration,

t the will of the beautiful young creature her-
ested against returnii iwto her, native hilis,
nboul, the paradise
re the pasha, how-

er in dispute,

 
 
 
  
 

 
   
  
   
 
   

handsome ‘poem consideratitin’ n , Accordingly, the
syoung beauty and her pufpoiging departed Sor Constanti-
nople. weey *

Now comes the: sequel tothe stoty. It is well known
that there is no opén'market’ for the ‘gale of women jn the
city of minarets.as of yore, but-thie trade though done in
secret is quite active and profitable to the: “Tarkish mer-
chants who pursue it,_ The pasha’s-altention. having been
called to the storyvof the beautiful Cireassian just brought
from her native hilis,/was Cutious to see the subject. of
such superlative praise and estimated value. Seeing was
believing in the pasha’sicase, and» he’ was ready to buy
the lovely and willing slave at almost any price. He

the dealers had already been offered even more an that:
amount, which, beginning to realize the value of ‘Vheir
gem, they refused, adding another 100,000 piastres to the
asking price., Then-commenced a Series of bids for the
girl.

In sijort, she was put up at private auction, and “many
of the rich ol Turks attended the sale; their blase! ‘fdoul-

the lovely houri. The bids run high, until finally one who
seemed kbown among them all, a young officer wearing

 

umn ar be oe ;

ly fifteen years, bu 0 beautiful in’
form a face, with marvelous Ie g and abundant black
hair reaching nearly to the gro, 7 that the dealers took
especial care of her as a va’ ‘ize. In proof'of her’
unusual beauty, it may be, Aestniontl IAL the price set.
upon her twas 200,000 Piastres. Som 2 a after the land-

This claims for a]

offered the sum originally demanded, but it seemed that}

ties hblaging up in admiration of the marvelous beauty. of

— Legal rate of inteTegt in China is set down at twenty
per cent. per &D* ym, if

— The erty of the pressin Paris is a mere farce if
‘What ¥re read be true.

A The Russians are a reading peopie; there are some
ninety journals printed in St. Petersburg. ,

— There is a famous female surgeon at Trieste who has
been remarkably successful.

— The native tribes of India are exhibiting considerabie
restlessness, it is said.

— Man and wife in Russia own their property separ-
ately and can sue each other at law!

— France has quietly resumed specie payment, without
making any fuss about it. ;

' — Paris physicians recommend horse flesh as desirable
‘food for consumptives! Funny Parisians. ¥

— The Bank of Engiand empioys nine hundred clerks.
Salaries range from £60 to £2,000...”

— Apoor girl of the demi-monde in Paris opened a
vein in her foot the other day, and bled to death.

— England has the cheapest and best postal arg to-
day of any nation in Christendom.

- — In St. Petersburg it is not uncommon for the Czar to
he | go behind the scenzs and cémpliment a performer.

— Good mechanics in Germany do not average over
five dollars aweek in wages.

. —There are over four hundred beet-sugar manufacto-

thes in’ P first-class industry.
.-> There are said to be fifty thousand diamond seekers
in South, Africa at present,
1 is shipping more soldiers to Cuba. This island
eyard ofthe Spanish army.

e+ Russia has over ten thousand miles of railroads in

 

7 operation, and more are building.

| — Paris shopkeepers declare traveling Americans to be

" their ‘best customers at all times.

med were killed in the arena.

_ The English g government is promoting emigration to
Australia. in various ways.
. — Over two hundred ‘persons were kiljed in the streets
of London last year by horses and vehicles.

— The tomb of Rachel, in Pere’la Chaise, Paris, isa’
very smal but beautiful Greek chapel.

— Tue style of Spanish ladies’ dresses has not materi -
ally changed for two hundred years.

—A Turkish porter will “trot along with nerfect: a
carrying a weit of six hundred pounds,

 

To CORRESPONDENTS.

R@ GOSSIP WITH READERS AND CONTRIBUTORS.—
swish. . Thomas French.—Write to C. L. pret Supt. Children’s Aid
Society, 19 East Fourth street...C. H. F. H.—To become an actor,
your friend will wo eiams to undergo a course of stage training
at the hands of one familiar with its business and requirements,
seas t Subscrivers.—We have not the space to furnish a list of the
instrance companies apprpocmes in the National Board of Un-
derwriters...... John J. R.—Neither..... H. A. @.—1st. We will
send you the Spenarian drawing books, Nos. 1 to4, for fifty cents
each, The “Rugg Documents” will not be issued in book form.
3d. es o Pare containing ‘‘Miss McDonald” will cost 30 cents...

Thomas.—Better stay where you are, unless you wish to
tring vour career to an untimely close by a "Spanish ullet or the
| At. Be yat was, offices: for employ-
ment as copyist sively 6 Dr. iM n.—Ist. The reading of books
alone will not make an engineer or a doctor any more than it
“will make a carpenter ora shoemaker, Practice as well as study
as required. 2d. The nature of the food each person should eat,
depends as much on his povsiesl goer as on the nature of
his employment. Persons who See ae great deal of mental
exercise, require food containing phorus, such as bread
made of unbolted wheat oe fish etc. Apples are also bighly
recommended..... +-Pan Ha: —The railroad connections
tween New York and San Francisco are complete, and permit
the journey to be made, between the two points, ‘without change
of cars, which has been done on one or more occ ns by ex-
cursion parties of railroad men. rson making the journey,
| however, is compelled to ehange at Chicago or St. Louis, Omak
fand Ogden........ F. 0. W.—Address a fetter to the Supervising
Architect, Treasury Department, Washington, D. C........S. E.
J,—The Christy Minstrels Song Books are out of print. . Pedro.
—We will send you Blackstone’s Commentaries for $7.50, $10 or
$13. The difference is owing to the style of the various ediuons.
.—Apply at the office of the Register, County
Gleric oF Surrogate, in the county and State in which the veceased
died. .\.2c5. } F. F. F.—Parker’s “Aids to English Composition” is
one of the best works of its kind. We will furnish it tor $1.25...
Green in Boys.—ist. He makes just $5 by the transaction.
2d. Yes. 3d. We do not know bis present whereabonts......

ate eee odes

 

danus.—ist whatever. 2d. The children of cousins

— Ata recent bull-fight in Madrid, six horses and two}

to Office C. Kerr.

— The exhibition of and gossip about the Fitch-Sher- |
man diamond necklace, give the finishing touoh to the
sensational wedding of the General’s daughter. But
what's the use of jewels that one is afraid to keep any-
where but in the United States Sub-Treasury? The pre-
cious stones are a millstone about the fair owner’s neck.
For the sum expended on this useless gift the Khedive
might have set up hundreds of worthy couples in house-
keeping.

— Heary Reeves has been persuaded not to publish any
mere of Greville’s Memoirs, which tell some unpleasant
Stories of people connected with the reigning dynasty of
England, and £1,000 have been offered for the only copy
believed to exist of a book of like disagreeable character
issued in 1830. The British Royal Family are as active in
trying to suppress scandal as the Beecher family.
‘Whether they will be any more successful remains to be
seen.

— Marie Caroline Archambault, Countess du Chatel,
has been convicted of shop-lifting in Paris. Her long and
titled name did not raise her above the level of a ragged
New York thief sent up for petit larceny.

— The papers tell of a whisky raid made in Georgia by
Colector Holtclaw. Holtclaw is a good name fora col-
lector.

— By a singular coincidence the new Tom: Paine me-
morial building and the Theodore Parker memorial build-
ing in Boston are side by side, But it by no means fol-
lows that Parker was next door to an infidel. _

— Question for printers: Of the characters represented.
by the English Opera prima donna, Miss Kellogg, which
is the finest type? Why, Mignon, of course.

— Sheridan Shook has resigned the Sen thibdlientiatp
of armories and drill rooms. The office arm tiresome. to
him, and so Sheridan shook it.

— “Parting is such sweet sorrow’’ that the Bostonians
resolved to give Adelaide Phillips afarewell benefit a week
long.

— The arts are atodds. Bryant the poet has been sued
by Hawthorne the architect. ©

— Aman named Waters recently walked 100 consecu-
tive hours at Pittsfield, Mass. “It is said he “frequently
became crazy” toward the close. © Sensible people think
he must haye been crazy before lie began.

— The Boston Journal says there is ‘in that city a girt
who weighed less than a pound and a half when she was
born. Boston has bragged a good deal of big things, and
by way of variety is now boasting of littie ones.

— Colonel Sinn has become manager of tlie Park Thea-
ter, Brooklyn. This will. give Talmage an opportunity to
say something more about the Sinn-iulness of the stage.

— The members of the opera company under the man-
agement of Mr. Hess, although they sing in English and ~
many of them were born in this country, are all called
Hess-ians.

— The Supreme Court of Maine granted 487 divorees
last year. The West will have to look after her honors in
domestic dishonor. . :

— The Lotos Club has recently given numerous dinners __
and banquets. The Lotos-eaters are said tobe hearty |
ones. : cis eokeg

— Wm. C. Kingsley, of Brooklyn, has resigned frem--
the Commission of the new State Capitol at Albany. But

capital contractor.

quency and animation at Delmonico’s. The Tribunecalls .
it “cementing college ties.” The cement is laid in
“courses”? and 18 a mixture of good wine and good
viands; and how ever other college ties are affected, none
of the collegians are tongue-tied.

— The Woman's Social Education Society Of this city
has formed a class in elocution. This is unnecessary, it
we may believe married men, who say that woman’s
elocution is free and fluent without any special instruc-
tion.

— The Cincinnati brewers now use corn meal in make

Dt A EO EER I Nr ay

 

 

 

 

 

 

though no longer a Capitol Commissioner, he is stil a Me

aw

 

— About this time university societies dine with ne és

 

 

 

 

the household uuiform of the Sultan, bid 500,000 piastres | called second cousins. 34, The object is to determine which jour. ing lager bier. Old topers prefer corn in their whisky.

=

 

 

 

 

 

?@ 4

Ono

{aj fo ae ees

om git a ae a

mtg. re print ease” Sans
seg

 
inate

ay i

————

ee eR eg

sm a tet ety

 

 

on

her face one would have thought it.

fection.

‘and was pledged to marry, Basil Ulric Vyner, Lord Dyne-
“jt away, with even more indifference than he laid down a

 

 

 

ae Spr theron nnn

LOVE'S TOURNEY—A VALENTINE.
BY G D. GARDETTE,

* Alas, the world grows old,” I said;
“Saint Valentine hath long been dead,
And the sweet usage of this rite,
Meseems, hath lapsed to stale and trite
Observance: Yet I yearn te-night

To speak my heart, for once, to him
Beneath the mask of Anonym.”
“Speak it,” quoth Edith; “I will tei
Whether you say it ill or well.”

“Then, thus, O, soft-eyed sister mine,
Would I ensnare my Valentine:

 

“JT may not say I love thee;
‘Tis not a maiden’s part
To open to her knight’s emprize
The tourney of her heart,
“Tf he by signs and tokens,
‘Hath not the secret found,
And vanquished in the sweet tormct
Within that sacred ground,
‘I may not say I love thee,
Nor that, the tilting past,
Thou art the knight who unbeknown
Hath gained the prize at last.
“Nay, I must leave thee jousting
Against thy shadowy hosts
Like one who strives in troubled dreams
Against a swarm of ghosts;
“Centent that, if thou lov’st me,
The deftest mask I wear
Sbali not prevail against thy skill
To lay my secret bare.”
“Certes,” quoth Edith, “you are sure
The tourney gates are still secure,
The lists unset, or, at the least,
No gallants bidden to the feast
That marks the knight, and crowns the day
That tears the mask of love away;
Or else—” “Else what?” “Why this: the sun
Ne’er shed a surer light upon
A traveler’s devious pathway, worn
Betwixt the midnight and the morn,
Than this by which thy knight shall see
To win his way to love and thee.”
I answered: “‘Nay, thou think’st net so
Bat in my heart—‘“Well, let it go!”

 

A Pascinating Story of English Society.

THROWN
On The World;

Gacabllasd! Gh Rie X) itklns

THE DISCARDED WIFE.

By C. M. B.,

Author cof “LADY DAMER’S SECRET,” “A
WOMAN’S ERROR,” “DORA ‘THORN,’ etc.

{Thrown onthe World’? was commenced in No. 15, Back Nos.
cun be obtained from any News Agent in the United Statess.)

CHAPTER IX.

One of the grandest and most beautifal mansions in
Hyde Park is. called Stanfield House, the town residence
of Lord’ and Lady Voyse. Every one knows Stanfield
House from the magnificence of its architecture, the
splendor of its interior, the beautiful view obtained from
the-windows over the park. Qn this bright May morning
@young gir| stands at the open window of a balcony,
looking shyly every now and then at the grand entrance
@ates. <A girl fair in face, with a delicate, wild-rose
dioom; a graceful, noble head, proudly set on a neck of
unrivaled whiteness—a head that, for statuesque beauty
and perfection, might have worn the diadem ef a queen.
From head to foot she was 2 patrician. She had a calm,
lovely, high-bred face—vrefined, eloquent, as though the
soul shone through it; a figure of perfect symmetry, full
of curves and lines that would have enchanted a sculptor;
waite, siender hands, with a soit, pink flush on the finger-
Vps; littve seer, that might have worn Cinderel!a’s slip-
pers. i you liad mez ner in an African desert, you woulda
have known her for What stre s2s—an aristocratic, high-
bred Englishwoman. Disguise her as you Weald, sho
could never be taken for anything else.

Peopie say that kind of thing is all nonsense—that in
the country villages of Eugiand you find greater beauty
than the higher classes can boast. That may be, but it
lacks Lhe cultivation and refinement. To those high-born
English girls beauty descends cultivated, improved in
each generation. The difference is the same as between
a fair rose that grows wild on the hedges—that is blown
by the wind and damped by the dew—and the garden
rose, upon whose color, shape, preservation all the gar-
dener’s skill has been brought to bear.

Lady Clotilde Voyse was such a garden rose. The
Voyses were one of the oldest English families. Her
beauty of face and form, her high spirit, her nobie soul,
her bright intelligence came to her from generations of
beroes. She was the only daughter of the present Lord
Voyse, aud greater care could not have been expended on
her had she been heiress to the crown of a great king-
dom.

From her earliest infancy love had shielded her from
even the breath of harm or evil. She only knew one side
of life—its beauty and brightness. She only knew one
plase of humanity, and that was its noblest and best.

Dimly as she realized the fact that fur away from her
bright, beautiful world there dwelt untaught savages, so
she knew thatsin and death, sickness and sorrow were
in the world; they had never touched her, had never been
near her. More dimly still she understood that there
were sin and evil; those slie had never seen. What does
the queen rose of a conservatory know of the faded flow-
ers trampied underneath the hedge? Heaven shone above
her, the love of father, mother, and friends surrounded
her; she lived among all that was most beautiful and:re-
fined; how was the knowledge of evil or of sin to creep
into such an Eden as hers? |

Loved, cherished, guarded carefully as some most pre-
cious jewel or delicate flower, she had grown up lovely,
refined, and intelligent; not proud actually, though from
Accomplished, fitted
totake any place in society, nO matter how high, Lady
Olotilde Voyse was what Captain Fraser called her—per-
All the instincis of her proud race were strong
in her—she would have preferred any kind of deatli to
dishonor, apy kind of torture to shame, any punishment
to untruth. She was the ideal of a pure and noble lady;
not frank of speech, as was Silvia. She could never have
clasped her arms round a lover’s neck, and have poured
out her love in warm words, as did Silvia. She was more
reticent. Where Silvia would have wept aloud, Lady
Clotilde would have folded her grief to her heart and have
died of it rather than letitbekuown. And thiggirl loved,

 

 

court, who had won a woman’s heart, broken it and flung

faded flower. ,

On this May morning Lady Clotilde wore a dress of rich
Indian muslin, elaborately trimmed with blue ribbons,
that harmonized well with her fair face and soft brown
hair. Her white hands were filled with flowers—they
were a passion with her; she meyer was happier than
when among them. :

Suddenly, over the fair, high-bred face, there rises a
warm, beautiful blush. She leaves the balcony hastily;
not for worlds would she have allowed Lord Dynecourt to
know that she had been looking or waiting for him. She
went into the drawivg-room, where Lady Voyse sat at her
writing table, .

“Mama,” she said, ‘‘here is Basill

Lady Voyse looked up withasmile. She touched her
daughter's fair face.

‘These roses are blooming in his honor. He would be
very proud if he saw those biushes, Glotilde.” !

The girl looked in her mother’s face with a wistful ex-
pression of her own,

“Do you think, mamma,” she asked, “that he loves me
80 very much?

“How could he heip it, my darling? Of course he loves

ou.

“Sometimes I think he is proud, silent, and reserved,
oq talks to me, but he seems to be tlinking of something
else.

Lady Voyse laughed. ‘

‘*Phat is one of lovers’ fancies,” she said. “Lord Dyne-
court has a proud, stately manuer that 1 like. I think his

fashion of fraking love quite chivalrous.??
_ girl t her beuutiful, flower-iitke face over her
mother,

“You know best,” she said. “If you are satisfied,
mamma, so am 1,”?

Lady Voyse had no time to answer, for the two gentie-
men were announced, and entered together.

1f Lord Dynecourt nad but understood the beauty, the
grandeur of the love given to him, if he had but looked
with a lover’s eye at that beautiful face, he would have
been a wiser, better man. As it was he remained perfect-
ly indifferent; he never saw the lightin those proud, frank
eyes, Jowered at his approach lest he should see the hap-
yom oes i

e addressed a few words to Lady Voyse, then
seated himself by Lady Clotilde’s que pe Oe

The young soldier looked with longing eyes; he would
have given much lo have been in his friend’s place. His
Jove Was Worth that of a thousand men like Lord Dyne-
court; but there was no hope for him. He wasbut a

ounger 60n—a Captuin in the guards—deeply in debt.
rd Voyse’s heiress was not for him,

He was honestly and most infatuatediy in love with
her. In other society the captain held his own most gal-
Jantiy; he could be cool, sarcastic, witty, gay, amusing;
in ae enero he was literally dumb, content to sitand
watch her,

The conversation was not very brisk between the two

    
  
 
 
  

filled gallery, and wondered shyly why her lover did not
ask her to go out among the flowers.

“Jt is a wondertul bright morning,” said Lord Dyne-
court, ablast. ‘You are going out, I suppose ?”’

“Yes, Iam going to ride.”

She half thought he would offer to escort her, but he
never even thougiit of it.

“How fond you are of flowers, Clotilde!’ he said, sud-
denly, watching the white fingers among the blossoms.

She looked up at him. :

“You cannot guess how dearly I love them, Basil,’? she
replied.

a am half-inclined to be jealous of them,” he said, lan-
guidly.

A lovely smile crossed her lips.

“Nay,”? she said, “there is no need; I do not love them
one-half so dearly as I love you.’

“Is that true, Sélvia 2?” he asked. Then his face grew
crimson as he remembered the terrible blunder he had
made. What possessed him to mention that name?

She looked up again quickly.

‘Silvia!’ she repeated. ‘What a pretty name! But
why do you call me Silvia?”

“Did | doso?? he asked, with a horrible feeling of
guilt. ‘‘l beg your pardon, I did not know it.”

“But why was the name inyour mind? Do you know
apy one named Silvia, Basil?’

“No,” he replied, slowly, as though trying to remem-
ber; “Iam not quite sure that 1 do. Silvia—no; but I
remember now why the name was in my mind.”

‘*Will you tell me?” she asked, quietly. :

“Most certainly. Iread a story last night. What was
it called?—let me think—‘Silvia’s Lovers.’ I was very
much struck with it.’?

“Will you get it forme?’ she said. ‘I should like to

ay,’? he replied.

ly Satisfied. When he rose
pretty white hand.

e better than Silvia, do

d he laughed to himself

Lady Clotilde would
CHAPTER X.

“T have to be married,” said Lord Dynecourt to Captain
Fraser, ‘‘and the sooner it is over the better.”

bis captain looked at the handsome, wearied, indiffer-
ent face. J

“You take nine very coolly,?? he said. “I should be
pam than half mad with such a prospect as you have be-

fore you.”? : ,

“I'am not given to raptures. I am thankful to say
that it would require an immense amount to drive me
mad.? 2

“Well, there 1s one thing I must say, Basil—whether it
offend you or not, I do not care; I would be so indif-
ferent, so used up, so tired of everything as you are, not
even to have your title and fortune.”?

Lord Dynecourt Jaughed. ;

“I am not at all offended,” he replied, “not in the least.
In fact, I consider you have paid me a great compliment.
I may say in return that I wish you all possible joy of your
capability forrapture. I considerthat a man has attained
the chief object of existence when he is neither affected
by joy nor sorrow—whien, in fact, he has ceased to fee}.””

“But you were not always so, Basil. 1 can remember

just like other men.”?

‘I was not a lotus-eater in those days, Harry; and now
Iam one of the idjest.”

The captain smoked away furiously at his cigar.

“As lwas saying, Harry, ithasto be done. I tell you
in confidence, i consider the whole matter a most horrible
nuisance; but it has to. be gone, so the more quickly it is
off my mind the better I shal) enjoy my life.”

*So it seems,’’ said the captain, dryly.

“A wedding in the country 1 could not survive,’? he
continued, Perhaps the recollection of country fields,
and lanes, and) fuwers, was bilter tohim. ‘1 could not
go through it. Villagers’ children strewing flowers, cliurch
beils pealing. Ihave not the strength for that kind of
thing, nor haye I the patience.” ;

“Which is more to the point,’> murmured his friend.

“Tiere is some dash, something lively about a wedding
in town; it seems the very thing to finish up the season
with. Will you be my best man, Harry?”

oe you nO relations—no one whom you ought to
as Q =
“No, I have no one to please but myself,’ replied Lord
Dynecourt. ‘i shall go to Stanfield House this morning
and suggest the middie of June for the wedding. Spend
as Much time with meas you can, Harry, until the event
comes off. 1 have been quite out of sorts lately.”

As he said, 50 he did. He went that very morning to
Stanfield House, and asked to see Lady Clotilde. He spoke
hurriedly when he did speak; his lips were hot and dry.
Once during the interview he astonished Lady Clotilde by
turning very pale and asking for a glass of water. Surely
remorse Was never busy with such a violent, heartless,
cynical man of the world; or had memory carried him
back Lo that humble little cottage at Rosebank, and the
amet f ce that would amile there Do more, &
blushes /4ix_at_him, her face crimson with

“Basil,” she said, gently, “do you prefer being married
in London? We have such a beautiful old church near
aud a wedding at the Park would be realiy a treat for all
our tenantry.??

“It would not be a treat tome, darling.
town.”

it was the first time during their courtship that he had
used such a loving term to her. She looked at him, her
eyes wet with happy tears.

“T will try to make you so happy, Basil,’’ she continued.
“T shall learn all your likes and dislikes, study ali your
tastes, seek your wishes.”?

She spoke so earnestly, so fervently—and such demon-
strations were rare with her—it was like ashock jarring
on each nerve when he answered Carelessly:

“You are very good, Clotilde; we shall get on ali right,
Iam sure,”? .

Her eyes lingered on his face wonderingly. Was it only
that he was reserved in his manner, or did he not love her?
He caught the glance, and jis wistful pathos touched him;
he took her hand in his,

“There are different kinds of men in the world, Clo-
tilde,’ he said. ‘Some say more than they mean, others
mean more than they say. 1 belong to the latter class. I
have not the art of expressing my feeling eloquently, but
you must never doubt that the feelings are there.”

7 a - remember,’? she said, gently, but she still looked
puzzled.

“What is it, Clotilde??? he asked; “there is a question in
your face’?

“I was thinking over what you had said,’ she replied.
“Basil, do not ali en speak the truth ?? ;

Her inuocence, her purity, her truth smote him like a
sharp sword. How littie, dear Heaven! how little she
knew of this world, wherein truth is held of so little
account, and honor even less. Did all men speak the
truth? What was he speaking when he sat there holding
her hand in his, and talkipg about thetime when she
should be his wife? .

All things are accomplished in time, Lord and Lady
Voyse, who both cordially approved their daughier’s
choice, gave a most free aud happy consent to the time
for the marriage. They had known Lord Dynecourt from
his earliest boyhood; they knew him as the peer of the
realm, as a worthy nobieman, a large landed proprietor, a
man with a career before him that he might make famous
if he would; aman whose name was ancieni as their own,
They had never heard anything against him; indeed, all
that his worst enemy ever said, was that he had been a
“jittle wild; and Luose words are interpreted by different
people according to their disposition.

Everything was settled and arranged. Chilmes Royal
was refurnished; decorators, upholsterers, gardeners,

eople of all Kinds were busily at work there. The future

ady Dynecourl’s jewels were on view at the celebrated
establisiiment of Horton Brothers. Madame Celeste ex-
hibited the Grousseau to a crowd of admiring spectators;
the Carriages and horses were to be seen at Falcome’s.
There had not been so great a sensation over a wedding
since the lovely Blanche Seymour was married.

The happy day dawned at last, the twentieth of June,
and a grander ceremonial had never been witnessed, even
in St. George’s, Hanover Square, The very creme of the
elite were present. A royal duke and a royal princess
were among the invited guests,

The papers gave a long list of gorgeous. wedding pres-
enis, a long list of the iuvilted guests, an elaborate de-
scription of the superb wedding breakfast at Stanfield
House, but they did not tell of the most touching incident
at that magnificent ceremonial. It was when the travel-
ing carriage stood at the door, and Lady Clotilde Dyne-
court had gone to Change her dress,

Lady Voyse called the bridegroom to her,

“Basil,” she said, ‘Ihave gained a son, I hope; not lost
@ daughter”?

He made some kind reply, but Lady Voyse hardly seem-
€d satisfied.

“I have given you this day,’’ she said, “the greatest
treasure that I have on earth—money and lands are
nothing in comparison. Oh, Basil, you will be kind to
her. She has never heard an unkind or careless word;
she has been so tenderly loved and cared for. You will
deal gently with her?’

She mother’s tears touched him as nothing else that day
had done.

“I will be kind to her,’ he said.
safely in my hands.’”’

Then, amidst a shower of good wishes, congratulations,
and blessings, they departed to begin that new life that
seemed to Clotilde Lady Dynecourt like Heaven below.

The treachery was accumplished, yet the heavens did
not fall; the sun shone on and the flowers bloomed fairly,
as though no taint of sin or falsehood had ever rested on

the fair earth, Nislasniinn
CHAPTER XI.

_ On the very day that the wedding of the Right Honora-
ble Basil Uiric Lord Dynecourt was celebrated, a solitary,
desolate, heart-broken girl entered the great city of Lon-
don, alone, and on foot. A girl half-crazed with despair—
haif-mad with the bitterness of her pain, clasping in her
arms a litule child, only saved from seeking her own death
because she had given a promise to keep her life sacred.
Ayoung girl with a white desolate face, weary and
beautiful, whose tender eyes looked in vain among the
crowds that passed her by for one kindly face, for
one sympathetic look. She was a woman, alone, and
in & crowd. She met. the usual fate of such a one.
Some pushed rudely by her, others hurt the tender
arms by knocking against her; some looked into the
beautiful face witly an ugly smile; some laughed, and

I prefer the

“You may trust her

 

lovers, Lady Voyse had taken’ the gallant captain
in hand, and was cross-questioning him briskly about the
last review. Lady Clotiide looked once toward the flower- |

 

some scoffed and jeered; but not one, dear Heaven! not
one among the vast crowd gave her a kindly glance or
word. She stood alone on the great bridge. Day was

when you were excited about trifles, angry without cause,

  

 

~<o4¢ THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. tee

 

 

drawing to a close there, the sky was covered with great
fiushes of crimson on the broad flowing stream, there
was a reflection of the rose-colored glare; little boats
glided down the river, noisy steamers went smoking
under the bridge, the tall masts of the numerous ships
looked dim in the evening light; and stil
stream of humanity flowed on and on.

A great stream of men, women and
and bad, of rich and poor, of roguessé
until one’s eyes ached with the ne
had found a place on one of the
Bridge, and there, hour after ho
passers by. Sometimes the little ¢
stir and then fall asleep again. —

Occasionally one, warmer heart
would 100K sadly at that desolate, bea ni
wonder what had brought her there; again,
would address a kindly word to her, but the
were never parted. She watched the crimson
the sky; she heard the sound of innumerable ¢
noted the never-decreasing crowd, but she mad
to move. Where was she to go? . ean

Far down the river the lights began to gleam. Sudden!
there came to her mind some sad, sweet lines that sh
had read not many months back with him. They were
Sitting in the shade of a great drooping lime tree on th
‘borders of the beautiful lake, and she asked him to read
to her. Among other poems he read wis:

‘Where the lamps quiver

Far down the river

Houseless and homeless

She wandered by night.” bs f

She could remember how her heart ached as she lis-
tened, and a shudder had passed over her; she remem-
be-ed too how he had stopped to caress her, how he had
kissed her face, half-laughing, half-scolding, because she
was so tender of heart, and so sensitive; the whole scene
rose before her as though she had taken part in it but
yesterday. How little had she thought then that such a
fate would ever be hers. The tree was Still standing, the
beautiful, calm lake was glistening in the evening sun,
but where was he, and where was she? *

A low moan that she could not suppress came from her
lips, and a woman passing by bent down and asked her if
she were ill. ; '

ery? ;

She repeated the word with a vague feeling of wonder.
What was physical pain compared to the torture eating
away her life? Ill—why, all the illmessin the world put
together could never cause the anguish she was suffering
ane e tt She was not ill—only desolate, forsaken, be-
trayed.

he answered with such a vague manner—such an ab-
sent look in her forlorn face—that the woman thought she
must be mad, and passed on. ‘

Still that vast crowd hurried on, never growing less.
Darkness had fallen over the city and the river; the lamps
gleamed in the distance like golden stars; there was a
jow, sullen murmur as though the waves of the stream
were rising, and then the crowd lessened. It was dark
now, and she had been silting theresince noon. Others
would have remembered that they were cold, faint, hun-
gry—not she; she remembered only that she was deserted
and alone.

The great towers and steeples of the city loomed darkly
beiore her; the myriad murmurs filled her ears. Where
in all that vast babel was there a refuse for her?—where
was a roofto shelter her—a face to look kindly into hers—
a voice to shield her?

The dark, running river seemed nearer to her than any-
thing else; the stars were shining bright and calm; they
were reflected in its clear depth. Ah, what a refuge was
therel—what peace—what oblivion; it was only to stand
on the parapet for one-half moment—to spring over—per-
haps one minute of agony, and then—peace!

She looked with yearning eyes; she rose, and some-
thing in the forlorn movement attracted the attention of
the policeman on duty. She looked again at the river,
then the memory of her promise rose before her like the
flaming sword of an angel, and drove her back.

“Nay,” said a voice behind her; ‘‘you must not do that;
life may be very hard with you, but you must not do
that.??

She raised her white face and saw 2 policeman standing
beside her. :

“I was not going to drown myself,’’ she said, simply.

“That’s right; there’s manyga poor girl—young as you—
comes here for that purpose, gnd no other.” '

“Not I,” she replied, with “¥ gid not,’

“So much the better.’? ‘

Then he appeared tq see tle beautiful white face more
clearly.

“Why,’? he cried, in ast
here this afternoon; I sa) °

“Yes,” she replied, a 5
time.’?

“It may be no busin
should like to ask you

“I have nowhere e!

A peculiar expressi

“I was not out in
self.

“What has brought o London?’ he asked.

She looked around ongpue dark river aud the vast city.
Ah! what indeed? Cowid she tell him that she had been
deceived, betrayed ?—t@at her heart was broken, and she
had wandered here, hafdly knowing why slie came? No;
he Woure-not understand; she would not tell him that.

“Why did you come to London ?”” he repeated.

“TI came to find something to do—some kind of work.”
~-“And have you no money ?? ’ .

“Yes, | have some money,” she replied. :

“Is that a littie child you have under your shawl?”

“Yes, itis a very little boy,’ answered she.

“Then for the poor child’s sake you must go some-
where. You cannot remain on the bridge all night.”’

She drew her shawl closely round her,

“Tt looks so vast and so dreary I do not know where to
go,’ she moaned.

“You have money—
house? You could get
breakfast, all for very

*“T should not know

“1 will take you to
not many steps from

“You are very goo:
and I should like it.’

“You came to Lond look for work,’? said the po-
liceman; ‘‘that is what @ery one does. You are a lady,
and not accustomed to work, I should say.’?

The delicate, refined face and white hands told him as
much.

She made no reply.

i ian you quite alone?’ he continued. “Is your husband
ead ?? ‘

He had seen the wedding-ring shining on her finger.

“Tam quite alone,” she replied.

“A widow! Ah, well, trouble comes to all of us. You
must cheer up. I am not what people call a religious
man now, but I never forget those words: ‘I am the God
of the widow and the fatherless.’ ””

She started as though asharp sword had pierced her.
Did those words apply to her? “She was not a widow,
because she had never been a wife; but Heaven knew,”’
she moaned to herself, ‘‘Heaven kuew.”! :

They reached a quiet, respectable coffee-house. ‘The
policeman pointed to it.

“You go im there,’’ he said, “‘and ask if youcan stay
the night; then, in the morning, look in the papers; there
is always something to be found—there is always some-
thing to be found. Take my advice—good, honest advice
—do Hs go back to the bridge; it does not do for such
as you.

Then he went away, but there was @ grave look on his
face.’ He had seen many such cases, and they all ended
badly, he said to himself—very badly. She had sucha
beautiful face, so innocent, so pure, so girlish.

“What has gone wrong with her, 1 wonder? Anh! it
must be the oid story—a loving woman, a wicked man. I
cannot think she is a widow; her trouble does not iook to
me like that kind at‘all.’?

And, throughout all the disturbances of that night, the
man’s mind dwelt on that fair, wistful, desolate face.

CHAPTER XIiL

Silvia soon found herself in a most comfortable room,
where in ashort time she was served with a cup of hot
tea. She did not Know how much physical weakness,
faintness, and hunger had to do with her feeling of utter
weariness. <A good-natured maid-servant came in, who
began to admire the baby, to praise him, to call him all
kinds of pet names. That cheered her. After all, the
possession of that beautiful baby was a gleam of light in
the darkness that surrounded her.

Whien the little one had gone to sleep, she laid it down
and went to the window; she looked out on the busy
streets, still so full of people; the noise seemed to reach
her and greet her—to remind her that she was not alone
in the world; then the clear heavens seemed tosmile
down upon her, After all, there was something to live
for.

“TI can work,” she thought, looking down on her little
white hands, ‘‘and I have my baby.” s

But she was such @ child, so inexperienced still, so ut-
terly ignorant of the world and its ways, so unversed in
all matters of fact, means of life. As she sat there decid-
ing that she must work, she had no more idea how to set
about itthan the little baby sleeping so soundly would
have had.

After a time she laid her head on the pillow, and slept,
too. She did not wake until morning, and then the cold,
blank world lay before her again.

It so happened that the mistress of the house, hearing
of the beautiful baby and its fair young mother, felt some
desire to see both. When the time came for presenting
the bill, she took it in herself.

Her heart was touched; she took the child in her arms,
kissed the little blooming face, then turned to the young
mother, ;

“You look very young,” she said; ‘and you lok like
one who has had a deal of trouble.”

“I have had most bitter trouble,’’ replied the giri—‘‘so
great that it has almost killed me.’

The landlady’s eyes fell upon the plain, gold wedding-
ring.

i mY are you alone??? she said. ‘Where is your hus-
and ?? aa

There was a moment’s pause. Those pale lips had nev-
er spoken falsely.

**] have lost him,’ she said, in a low voice.

“Poor child! I thought as much. And now you come
here in search of employment—is that it ?”?

“Yes,” she replied. ‘And Ido not know—I am so ig-
norani—I have no idea even how to begin to find employ-
ment, Ah! how I wish you would tell me!”

The landlady looked at her keenly.

“You are a lady,’’ she said, ‘‘and if you wil] excuse me
saying so, you know as hitlle as the rest of them.”?

“Tam afraid ldo not know much,’? was the meek re-

shudder.

shment, “you were sitting
7

  
    
  
  
  
    
   

“J have been here a long

ine,” said the man; “but I
is???

,? she replied.

over his face.

, after all,’ he said to him-

   
   
   
 
   
  
  

y not go to a respectable coffee-
per, a night’s lodging, and

Pr

re to find one,’’ she said.
ou will like. There are several

e said, gratefully. ‘I am tired,

 

ply.

  
   
   
   
    
  
  
     
   
    
     
    
  
   
    
    
  
      
  
      

_ You could teach, of course?’ said Mrs. Carson, with
the least possible tinge of contempt in her voice,
“Ido not think so—I am not clever. It requires great
Skill and talent to teach well, does*it not ?”?
‘ A dry laugh, that Sylvia did not understand answered
er.
“Would you like to go into a shop ?”’ she asked.
“I would do anything. Iam willing to do anything.’
“Well,”? said the landlady, candidly, ‘in my opinion
you are far too.good-looking to gointoashop. Your life
would be a burden to you.”’
ne beautiful face fell.
‘ou know of anything that you could get your
y at home—lace-making or anything of that

Tam very ignorant.” ;

‘I were in your place,’? said Mrs, Carson, ‘I would
D an office—there must be plentyin London. You
t get a situation as governess to young children, or
Would you like that?”

indeed, if I could manage it.’?

Manage it well enough,’ was the hearty
lyou have to consider what you would do

other’s face fell.

e to leave my baby? I cannot do that.’

be obliged to do it if you wish to make

3 Mrs. Carson. ‘But it will be easy to finda
ble home for it—not here in London—but out in

the country, where it can get fresh air, and good, cheap

milk. You will pay so much a week, and may be sure he

will be kindly treated.”

“‘Are you sure I can get such a home?” she asked.

“Yes; let me think. I haye a married sister who lives
at Hampstead; she is not too well off, poor thing, and she
would be glad of a child to nurse, that is, of course,’ she
added, somewhat awkwardly, ‘‘if you can pay.”

“TI will do that,’? she cried—“you give me fresh life.
Before I do anything else I will see about a nice house for
my baby. I never thought of that—indeed I have been
almost in despair whenever I have thought of it, for I did
not see how I was to get work with my baby.”

“You do not know much of the world,’’ sald Mrs. Car-
son, Kindly.

She, too, like the policeman, had been looking at the
lovely young face, and thinking that the sorrow there was
not like the sorrow that follows death. Perhaps some idea
of what the truth actually was flashed across her; but she
Was a compassionate woman, and her heart was full of
kindness for the girl.

**You have lost your husband,”’ she said, slowly, ‘‘and
it has been a great trouble to you, lamsure. You were
caer I suppose, and had not time*to get your mourn-
ing

A sudden, hot flush burned the fair face.

“T did not think of it,’? she said, humbly.
much grieved even to remember it.”’

“T can easily believe that, for | know what trouble is,’
said Mrs. Carson; ‘‘but the rest of the world may not do
the same. It is a cruel, hard world. Seeing you so young
and with this dear little baby—hearipg you Call yourself a
widow, without wearing widow’s weeds—they would say
uncharitable things of you.”

“I never thought of it,’? she replied, briefly.

“Tam glad I thought of it for you. Can you afford to
we gooa mourning? It would go so much in your
avor.

“Yes—I have money,’ she said, slowly.

‘Then if you take my advice, you will do that the first
thing. I should like you to do it before you go to my sis-
ter’s, even. I will see that the baby is well taken care of,
if you like to go now. All these beautiful curls must be
put aside, and you must have a proper widow’s cap.”’

The girl shrank back, evidently not liking the idea.
“How could she,’? she said to herself, “how could she act
so falsely???

Mrs. Carson noticed her hesitation.

“You, perhaps, think you are too young,’ she said,
“for such a gloomy dress; but for the baby’s sake you
must wear it.”

“T wiil go out at once,”? she said, ‘‘and see about it.”

A few hours afterward, when she stood before the glass,
she hardly knew herself; the beautiful rippling golden
hair was brushed back and hidden by the widow’s cap,
the beautiful, girlish figure was hidden, by the heavy
mourning dress. There was no resemblance between her
and the bright, lovely girl whose brief span of happiness
had been spent by the lake side.

“That is right,?? said Mrs. Carson; ‘‘you look ten years
older at least. Baby is good as gold. Now, if you have
money enough with you to pay for him, better to take him
to Hempstead at once; then you will be at liberty to look
out for something todo. If youcan arrange that I shall
think we have managed very creditably.”
bod shali be grateful to you as long as ever I live,” said

ilvia.

Then Mrs. Carson asked her name,

‘You are so young,’ she said, ‘tyou look so friendless,
so foriorn, it wouid be a hard heart, indeed, that did not
turn to you.”?

‘i hope I shall find others as kind; but I hardly expect
it.

“God is good, and the world is wide,’ said the land-
lady.

That same day Silvia went to Hampstead, and found
Mrs. Tate, the landlady’s sister, a kind, patient, motherly
woman, one whiose life had evidently been full of toil and
care; she was even thankful for the employment, and
promised to take good care of the child.

“1 am fond of children,” she said, ‘though I have had
but little comfort with my own.’?

They agreed upon terms, and Silvia paid two months in
advance. =

‘‘Whatever happens to me,” she thought, ‘my little boy
is provided for, for some time at least. 1t will be strange
indeed if Ido not find something to do, for my whole
heart is bent upon work.”

She little knew how many others had in the same way
every capacity, every willingness to work, yet could not
find work to do.

The next day Mrs, Rymer went to Hampstead and took
the baby with her. What it cost that gentle heart to part
with her child only Heaven knew.

[To BE CONTINUED. ]

Tried for His Life;

one, OR Mean
THE CHAIN OF GUILT.

By Lieutenant Murray,

Author of MEZZONI, THE BRIGAND; THE
CHILD OF THE SEA; BUCCANEERS, etc.

(“Tried for His Life”’ wascommenced in No. 14. Back numbers
ean be obtained from any News Agent in the United States.)

CHAPTER X.—(CONTINUED.)

It was nine o’clock on the following morning when Ru-
fus, Ellenor, and Mrs. Hurd, with two of the eldest child-
ren, met as usual in the breakfast-room. Rufus was mani-
festly pale and uncomfortable, This was the critical
Saturday! Mr. Bancroft, the soul of punctuality, not be-
ing present, his daughter sent the maid, who waited on
the table, to call him. Inamoment after the girl came
rushing into the room, white as a sheet, and stared her
mistress wildly in the face while she pointed up stairs.
She was so overcome that she could not utter even a syl-
lable!

Rufas, Ellenor, and Mrs. Hurd rushed up stairs together
and into Mr. Bancrofi’s room, where the sight that met
their horrified gaze caused the daughter to faint and fall
heavily upon the floor, while Ellenor trembled so that she
could not stand, but sank into achair and covered her
face with her hands, while Rufus, approaching the bed,
exclaimed:

“Great Heaven! What is this?”

There lay, upon the white sheet, his dead father, as pale
as the linen itself, where it waa not discolored by the bright
spots caused by the life curreut as it had oozed away into
@ pool at the side of the bed. It was a ghastly sight, the
eyes and mouth both open, and the head hanging to one
side. He had n murdered in the ntght! There was
the wound jus the heart. One broad, deep stab!
There was no se wound yvisible—it was not required.
Rufus, pale, but cool, put his hand upon his father’s brow
—it was as cold as ice. He had been dead for hours, only
the murderer could say how long!
terrified household quickly assembled, and Mrs.
trended to by Ellenor and her maid, Rufus
ey for the chief of police, and tien for Mr.
the family physician, for although the latter
ood still it seemed natural to call him in on
ccasion.
ra have died instantly and without a groan,”

l ysician. ‘The weapon pierced his very heart,
and in t lave been used by a strong and intelligent
hand,?? |
“Has there been a robbery committed ?”” asked the chief
of police, as ie examined the body. :

“[ know not,”? an wered Rufus, “butas there is no evi-
dence of confusion here 1 do not think anything is miss-
ing.”

TAN the more easy to find out the murderer,” said the
officer. ‘There must be a motive!”

“Very true,” said Mr. Houston, who had come at once
on being summoned by Jarvey. 7

“We shall see, we shall see,’ reiterated the chief of
police. “This is not a blind alley leading nowhere, It
strikes me that it will prove a very simple case.”

“The coroner should be sent for at once,’’ said the phy-
sicians

“True,” said the officer.

“Jarvey, tle doctor wi!) give you the address; hasten
for the coroner immediately,” said Rufus,

“Any weapon left behind ?”? asked the officer.

“None that we have seen,’ replied Rufus.

“That is a peculiarly shaped wound, and wag not made
by a common weapon,’’ he said, as his experienced eye
rested on the spot where the knife had entered.

“A broad-biaded Knife, not a dagger,’? continued the
physician, examining the wound.

“There was no struggie here,’’ said the officer; ‘it was
one blow and all was over.” :

“The clothes even have not been disturbed,” said the
doctor, examining them.

Consternation and confusion reigned in that stricken
household for the next twenty-four hours, until its mem-
bers could in some degree comprebend and analyze the
strange and frightful event which had occurred. All the
usual official examinations were duly pursued, and every
portion of evidence that coud possibly bear upon the case
was carefully’ collected. and preserved by the proper
agents of the courts. The most minute particulars of

r. Bancroft's daily life and habits were carefully consid-
ered, and their possible bearing upon any supposition re-

“IT was too

 

 

 
 
 
   
   
     
  

 

 

 

 

lative to the murder was discussed with professional cun-
ning by the detectives. The scrutiny of all the servants ~
was most thoroughly conducted, and nothing was omitted
which it was thought might by any possibility throw light
upon the subject. Tne detectives certainly did their best.

Still nothing was elicited to solvers mystery. The
front door of the house was in its us condition; no évi-
dence of ingress or egress by outside parties could be
found, though it was remarked that the fastening, of the
front door was one which locked itself at all times, and
that the door was rarely if ever locked by any additional
fastening. An ingenious or designing person could, at
&n unobserved moment, have fitted a key to the lock.

The newspapers teemed with the details of the mys-
terious murder of the well-known merchant, and the
theories as to the case were as various as the individuals
who repeated them, for no two persons seemed to agree
as to what could be the possible soiution of the matter.
Heavy rewards were offered by the authorities, and also
by the family, to stimulate research, and it was the one
theme for a considerable period which appeared to fully
occupy the curiosity of the public mind. Notwithstand-
ing the activity of the detectives, all their imgenious
theories came to naught, and thus far not the least clue
even had been found Lo solve the mystery.

Suddenly, one day, as Rufus satin his own room pre-
paring some memoranda at the request of the family
lawyer, he was interrupted by the entrance of Jarvey in
a partially intoxicated condition. The man seemed very
rude, and had opened the door and entered without
knocking first in the usual manner. Looking up from
his writing Rufus saw at once the condition of the ser-
vant, and resolved when he was sober to pay him his
wages and dismiss him from the house.

“Well, Jarvey, what do you want?”

“Want?? repeated the man, squinting vilely and wink-
ing, “I want money, Master Rulus.’?

“Money? Your wages are due at the end of the month,
and will be promptly paid.”

“No doubt of that, Master Rufus, but I want» more,’’
said the man with bis fingers on the side of hisnose. =~

“You are insolent, Jarvey; you have been drinking too
much—go about your busiuess.”’

“There’s a big reward offered for the discovery of the
murderer of your father, Master Rufus |” a

“What has that to do withthe matter ?? said the young
man, turning squarely around at him.

“A good deal.”’ .

“Are you sober enough to answer me ?”’

“Yes, If itis as much of an object for me to hold my

tongue, why, I don’t tell what i know, that’s all. Don’t
you see, Master Rufus???

“No. .I don’t see.”?

‘Must be blind, then,??

“You are a liltie too deep for me, Jarvey. Go and get

sober; then if you have anything to say Wil talk with you.’?

*1’m sober enough.” : :

‘Not to talk to me,’”? said Rufus, now getting a little
angry.

“Oh, you needn’t appear so innocent,’ said the inso-’
lent servant, advanciig into the room.

“Jarvey, I shall do you an injury if you do not leave me
at once,” said his master.

“Master Rufus, I overheard that dispute between you
and your father about Miss Bilenor, and [ happen to be
the one who can accordingly give the detectives the clew
they talk so much about—the motive |”)

‘Motive?’ repeated Rufus.

‘‘Aye, that’s the thing wanted,” said Jarvey, insolently.

Rufus Bancroft looked at him for nearly a minute before
he seemed to fairly comprehend what the man intended
to insinuate. Then as it flashed upon him, his anger and
rage knew no bounds. He instantly knocked Jarvey down
where he stood, and when he got up pounded him almost
to a jelly, then absolutely threw him out of the room, and
kicked him from the top to the bottom of the stairs, before
he paused to take breath. +

The servant was completely sober now, after the severe
punishment he had received. Hecould hardly stand, as
he turned and tried to fina his way to the kitchen. His
face was covered with blood, and one of his eyes was
completely closed by the blows which Rufus had given hima
{ull in the face. The cook just at that moment made her
appearance, and Rufus said:

“Take care of Jarvey; he’s been misbehaving himself—
send for the doctor, he will need him.”

“Oh, mercy on us!’ exclaimed the cook, as she saw Jar-
vey’s bloody face ail swollen and blackened.

“Where is that knife you brought home from the Ingy
Islands? You answer me that!’ said Jarvey, just as the
cook took his arm to help him along.

At these words Rufus turned deadly pale.

CHAPTER XI.
THE PARRICIDE.

Of course Jarvey intended to trade upon the discovery
which he had made. He thought he would have a bit of
triumph over his young master to begin with, at any rate,
and so he approached him in the reckless way in which
we have described, in consequence of which indiscretion
there came very near being a second murder committed
in that house. The soundly-beaten servant was compelled
to go to bed at once, for he was really in a critical situa-

 

tion, and his system, so soaked in stimulants, exhibited’

alarming symptoms of erysipelas. The man himself was
much frightened at the doctor’s sober face, and feared that
he might die. He was cunning, however, about the secret
which he proposed to sell, and resolved to keep that to
himself. Tohis brother servants he explained that he
supposed lie had taken a drop too much, and had been too
Opeu-mouthed with Master Rufus, who got mad and beat
him.

As he lay in his bed quite alone and suffering from his
various bruises, his sole comfort was in the prospective
revenge which he was planning within his own mind, as
to the betrayal of his young master. ~

“No chance for any bargain with him,’? he muttered to
ere merae “T will go elsewhere, where I ought to have gone
at first. 7

The doctor brought him round once more, but took
occasion to lecture his patient upon his habits, telling him
that he would be soon beyond the power of medicine if he
did not reform. His first steps, after getting up from his
bed, was toward the office of the chief of police, to whom
he was finally conducted and commenced to make his
business known.

“There’s a reward offered for discovering the murderer
of Mr. Bancrolt, isn’t there?’ said he, in an abrupt man-
ner.

‘Yes,’ was the reply, while the official scrutinized his
visitor curiously.

“Well, I can give you the necessary information,” said
Jarvey, swelling with importance.

“You were one of the servants at the Bancroft house, if
Iremember correctly ?””

“1 wasg.??

“What is your name???

‘‘William Jarvey.’?

“If you have this knowledge, why did you not divulge
it at the coroner’s inquest ?”?

**Because I wasn’t posted then.
this and that together, you see.’

“Well, who is the man ?’’ said the official, carelessly, as
he had no faith in Jarvey’s story.

“Shall I get the reward ???

‘*That depends upon circumstances.’

“Then Vii keep my information to myself if 1am not to
get the reward for telling it.”

“If you indicate the guilty person, and the crime is
proven upon him, of course you will get the reward.”’

“Very well; then it was Master Rufus.”

‘Rufus? whois he???

“Why, Rufus Bancroft, the old: man’s son,’’? continued
Jarvey, wondering at the ignorance of the officer. |

“Whewl? whistled the official; ‘this is bringing things
home indeed. His own son, you say?’

“Yes, sir.??

“Look ye, my man. Mr.—what is it 2’?

‘William Jarvey.”?

“Mr. Jarvey,’’ continued the official, ‘no nonsense with
me; if you are fooling, you will get into trouble.”

“I mean every word and can prove it.””

“We shall see,”?

At this aspect of affairs the chiert touched a bell, and
summoning an attendant, sent to another room for one of
the detectives into whose hands this case had been given.
The subordinate officer soon after made his appearance,
and listened to the story which the servant had already
told to his chief. The detective was a shrewd and observ-
ant person. It was his profession to exercise these
qualities, and the faculties of the mind which we most
especially cultivate by use become stronger in proportion
to their employment, as is the case with the particular
muscles of the acrobat, whose peculiar feats call certain
muscles most frequently into play. The officer listened to
the charge brought by Jarvey, aud then asked; #

“What motive had the son to murder his father? That
is the first step to be considered.”?

“That's just what I'm coming to,” said Jarvey.
see the old man threateued to alter his will.’?

“On what account ??

“Because Master Rufus wouldn’t marry Miss Ellenor—
that’s his father’s ward, as they cali her.??

“The young lady residing in the house ?”?

“Yes?

“How do you know that Mr. Bancroft threatened to
alter his will?” :

“T overheard Rufus and his father quarreling about it
one day in his study.”?

Went anaes el??

‘“Yes—almost came to blows.’’

“All? said the detective, taking out his memorandum
book. ‘This looks like business.’’

.“No doubt about that,’ said Jarvey.

“Sit down, my man,’

The detective then read over his minutes relating to the
Bancroft murder, and thus refreshing his mind upon the
subject, Commenced to interrogate Jarvey more minutely,
aud to go on adding brief entries in his book, growing
more aud more interested in his occupation. As he was
thus engaged, he said half aloud and yet to himself:

“Yes, yes, the motive; there’s where we were all at
fault, and that seems to have turned up at last.”

“But, my man, what has waked you up?” he continued;
“trouble with your young master, eh?”

**] hate him!” was the brief and bitter reply.

“Oh, you do??? ee

‘1 do? ‘

“Well, do you hate him so that you can’t tell the truth?’
asked the detective. ;

“No—no. I don’t need any lies to convict him, it’s all
plain enough,’’ was the answer.

“What do you hate your master for?”

“He beat me almost to a jeily.’’

“Oh, he did?” making a minute in his book.

Yes.)

“What for???

“Because I drank a littie too much brandy one day,”
was the answer, in a surly mood,

“Look at me you—what did you say your name was?”

But since, I have put

“You

 

¥

 

—
EE

 

 

 
 

 

Cy:

 

 

 

 

 

judge, he thought, in an affair

nceting between: Rufus and

6

_

 

 

 

“Jarvey,’? .

“Well, Jarvey, you are lying to me!"’

“Wo, [ ain’t.’?

“Your master beat you for something eise.
me what it was, Out with itl’

“Well, I asked for some money.”

“T thought so,’ said the shrewd officer.

“He wouldu’t it to me.”?

e

“Wages ?? t '*

“Yes—no—that ? hesitated Jarvey.

“ook ye ny man, I can see ciean through you, I can.
Now tell he the truth. You threatened your young mas-
ter with exposure if he didn’t give you money to hold
your tongue. That is just what you did.” :

‘How did you know that?! asked the astonished Jar-
wey.

“Never you mind. All I want from you is the truth,
and if you attempt to lie to me I'll Jock you up.”

“On, Fil tell you the truth, but 1 shall get the reward,
Shaw’t 1?’ a little frightened at the threat.

“If yon tellthe truth, and your master preves to be
guilty, I can’t say but that you will.”

With a few leading questions, the detective soon got
from Jarvey all the particulars Of the stormy juterview
between Rufus and his father on that eventful occasion
tvlen the servant had been surprised listening at the
door. The officer became absorbed in his occupation,
making copious notes of the evidence given by Jarvey.

“We said that he would give him one week to decide
in?” asked the officer,

“*Yes.”?

“And this. conversation occurred on Saturday after-
noon.,”?

**VYes,)?

“The murder occurred the night before the week ex-

ired.”?

. “T thought of that,’ said Jarvey.

“This is growing interesting,’? conu sued the detective,
warming with his professional work.

“There’s the knife, too,” said Jarvey.

“You say that is missing.”

“Yes; aud when Lasked Master Rufus where it was,
he turned as pale as a ghost,” replied Jarvey, exultantly.

“Matters do certainly begin to appear squally for Mr.
Rufus Bancroft,” said the officer, looking over his\notes,

Jarvey was then taken by appointment before the dis-
trict attorney, afterward before the grand jury, who hap-
pened to be in session, and finally, all proper legal steps
having been taken, a trae bill was found against Rufus
Bancroft, who was brought before the court on a charge
of parricide, and alter a preliminary examination was
duly committed to prison.

“he detectives and officers generally declared that if he
Was guilty he was a “cool one,” and if not guilty, then
the strongest circumstantial evidence must be counted
for nought.

The city was rife with all sorts of rumors touching the
‘case, Which was again revived with increased interest.
Some even declared that Rufus had confessed his guilt,
others going into long details as to how the murder was
comunitted, with various motives assigned.

%y some means information had leaked out touching
this Jasé matter, and giving publicity to the idea of the
proposed alteration of the will. The detective had cau-
tioued.Jarvey not to open his lips about the subject, but
as'‘Rufus had discharged him before he was himself ar-
rested, the fellow had taken recklessly to drinking, and in
his intoxicated hours he knew not what he divulged to
inquisitive interviewers.

At was undoubtedly through thissource that the re-
porters had picked up tie items relating to the supposed
motive which had induced the young man{o become a
parricide. This aspect of -the case wag duly published
aud dilated upon, lu order to satisfy the craving of the
public appetite for information touching the strange
enurder,

in this great arid trying:emergency Ellenor Livingston
caine out in all the strengtheand vigor of her true charac-
ter. She left nothing undone jn vehalt of Rufus’s interests,
‘taking the entire-charge of his affairs outside the prison
walls. ‘She never for one moment believed the least
shadow of guilt as charged agaiust him, while the aspect,
evel in the judgment of his counsel, was very dark in-
oe as to the power of clearing himin the eyes of tlie

aw. sey

Iiad there beena robbery consummated, there would
have been a motive for committing the deed, so general
as to apply to any professional rogue; but here was a case
where a peculiar motive alone could have induced the
crime, aud, with all their skill, it was impossible for the
detectives to imagine a motive except the one which had
Heen attributed to the son. :

Since Rufus, had been incarcerated in prison that fatal
knife had been found, all covered with clotted blood. se-
creted under some loose bricks in the yard of the house,
just beneath the room occupied as his chamber. When
this fact was revealed to his lawyer, and it was rendered
tnanifest that the murder had nndoubtedly been commit-
ted with this knife, he frankly acknowledged that if he
had not known Rufus from childhood, he should have
‘thought the evidence was conclusive of his guilt. Of
‘course, if this was the sentiment of his legal adviser, it is
‘moet to be wondered at that it was also the universal opin-
ion of the public, and especially of the prosecuting attor-
mey and the deteetive force engaged upon the case. The
miussmg link of au incentive once supplied to the officials,
Shey felt. that it was an easy case thereafter, and that
when the affair came to trial it would be made short work
oF by judge and jury,

*Rats quit a sinking ship,’ said Rufus to himself, when
he began te realize how his fair Weather friends deserted
him, and soe he said to Ellenor, the faithful companion
Who came daily to. him with eucouraging smiles and
‘¥vords-of hope. A :

“That knife being found, seemed to settle the business
For the son, as surely as it did the business for the father,’
said one detective to another. '

“The manVJarvey says he. killed two robbers with the
Same weapon insubua,” said the first.

“Is a piratical-looking Knife, 2nd sharp enough to
shave with,’ replied the other.

“T haven't seen it.??

“The prosecuting-attorneyghas got it?
~Bufus Bancroft lay in prison week after week. The dis-
trict: attorney and the prisoner's lawyer were preparing
ihemselves each to preseut his side of the case in the most
Tavorabie inanner for their respective purposes,

As we have said, the guilt of the accused-was almost
universally admitted, for the terrible fact of the motive
could not be lest sight of. Though almost entirely desert-
ed by his former friends, still he was comparatively calm
and collected. He was -evidently much shattered by the
force of events ard the unnatural restraint of prison con-
inement, but Otherwise ‘he bore up with remarkable
Saeulapies, and no oue heard .a word of complaint from

118 lips.

Mr. Houston, the surviving partner of the house of Ban-
croft & Houston, had been even profuse in his offers of
services, both to Rufus and to the family, and had called
onthe accused several: times in. prison, literally heaping
coals'of fire on his head, and Rufus began to think that
he had heretofore misjudged the man, THeeven felt sorry
that he liad reviled liim in the betty way that he had been
in the habit of doing, and» that he had made a Scapegoat
of himdn the family circle. «Mr. Houston told Rulus that
there need be no hurry in Settling up his father’s connec-
tiou with tie firmin any instance, that.all the money he
required should be promptly advanced, and suggested
that the interest held by.MriBancroft should be retained
forthe benefitof the family. and his estate, the style of
the firm remaining as it had been forgo many years,

Raflus could: not but:-thank this man, Whom he had
mever been able to tuterate’ before, and whose nervous
and cringing manner even now. disgusted and annoyed
him exceedingly. He had ‘no pecuniary meansof his
own, and, of course, took from him such-sums as his ne-
cessiiles demanded, always carefully receipting for the
same,

Mr. Houston, on his part, when asked about Rufus and
his opinion relative to his guiltor innocence, always
Avoided the question when he could doso. Le said he
had no theory:in the .matter. -He could not bea good

1 Where his interests and
feelings Were so intimately involved... Sometimes he would
auswer, when lie was closely pressed:

“‘Murderis not committed without a motive, and what
‘possible incentive, outside of his own family, could there
be for any one to:take the life of Mr. Bancroit 2”!

But still he always changed the subject as soon -as :pos-
sible, though it was: said. that he was to be &-wilness for
the State when the case came:up for trial,

‘This fact had come to Mr. Hogsden’s knowledge, :the
lawyer. who was to defend Rufus, and he felt-curious to
know what line of evidence Mr. Ifouston. was to testify,
but as-he had already been called by the opposite side, he
Gidnos feel at liberty to-consult him ‘upon the- subject.

Now tell

 

Professional etiquette would compel him to await his ap- |

pearance:upon the stand before he could satisfy this'cu-
rviosity. His counsel also appealed to Rufus to know if he
could in any way imagine whatiMr, Houston knew about
the case more’ than. any other person, except: Jarvey,
whom they well nudersiovd was the main Witness for the
prosecution.

The testimony of Jarvey, indeed,- was about all that
could be brougdlit into court against .Rufusy and ithad
been said openly that if the defense denied that stormy

{ his father, andthe threat
about the will, the proof lay alone in one witness, aud he
one whose character woutd render lis veracity very ques-
tionable, especially as revenge was’ known to incite him

42 this instance. .
CHAPTER: XII.
A VILLAIN UNMASKED,

Rufus Bancroft had not falled to write to Inez Ariata on
the very day of his inyprisonment, detailing to her every
item of his strange and: trying: :experience- since he had
left her side, He even told hersnow the relationship ex-
isting between himself and Ellenor Livingston, and more
than this, as he desired to be entirely ‘open with her, as
he said, he inclosed a copy of his ‘letter. to his father’s
ward. Of course, his) present situation, be the result?
Whatit might,

 

‘¥eserve,

Let us look for a moment: into that plantation home
after the receipt of the intelligence concerning: Rufus Ban-
eroft, Through the medium of the American newspapers
De Mena had got the news even before Inez had received
cher Jetter through Doctor. Finley. He came to Buena
“Vista and discussed the matter secretly with Pedro,
“neither Jiking to be thei first to break such unwelcome
news to Donna Ariata or to Inez. De Mena could hardly
hide his secret satisfaction at this condition of affairs; it

‘Seemed to be fortune playing right into his hands.

Guilty or not guilty, De‘Mena cared not a farthing, pro-
vided only that Rufus could be convicted and rendered
dneligible as a rival for the hand of Inez. «All this. was
better than he could have Planned, and quite elated him,
ek eae of which became manifest to‘Doetor Fin-
‘ ys

und whichteudered the honest Scotchinan extremely

a ak

could not be kept from his Cuban ‘friends;
‘2nd sv he thought it best to tel Inez everything without,

 

 

angry. However, lie had other matters to attend to, and
left De Mena in peace for the present, saying to himself:

*“T have a bone to pick with him by-and-by, but we need
not hurry matters,’?

Dr. Finley, seeking a favorable moment, sat down with
Inez and broke the wipleasant intelligence to her. This
he did so judiciously as to cause no hysterical exhibition
on her part, anc aiso in a manner to enable her to gather
her faculties to meet the trying exigency. , i

“Do you believe the story of Rufus’s guilt?” asked Inez
of the doctor, when he had finisiied,

“No, Ido not, though I have as yet no knowledge of
the details in the case.’! ; ‘

“Thank you, my good friend,’ said Inez, giving him
her hand, ‘neither do 1,” , :

“That brave young fellowa pavvicide 2?!» mused the
doctor. ‘It cannot be.
innocent. Some strange complication—that’s all.”

“Rufus Bancroft is not a murderer,” said Inez,

Except that she exchanged afew words with
upon the subject, nothing more was said upon this t
for some days, and then a second mail brought the n
papers giving the accouut of the motive attributed t
inurderer, aud making out as we lave before seen, a
strong caseagainst the prisoner. The news was eag €
devoured by De Mena and Pedro, and with this new Ji
upon the subject it possessed peculiar interest to €
former. The whole subject was now openly discussed in

aud warmly defending her young American friend, as she
called him. De Mena openly condemned Rufus, and even
Pedro seemed shaken somewhat by the detailed evidence
that had been published. The finding of that well-known
knife was in his miud terribly’significant, and also *both-
ered”! the doctor, as he said, though he was still loyal and
declared his belief in the entire innocence of his friend,

“Doctor ??

“Well, Pedro?’

“If you did not know Rufus, andif yon read the ac-
counts of this business in the papers, what would you
say??? :

“That he was a parricide !”

“There it is.”

What?

“Why our prejudice inhis favor, which makes us be-
lieve in his innocence,” said Pedro.

“Perhaps so, but I believe it none the less."

“T want to do so,?

“That's natural.’?

“Every one doesn’t know the man as well as we do,”
continued Pedro, thoughtfully.

Inez was satistied with deolaring her conviction of his
innocence, but said no more, and no one but Doctor
Finley knew that she had received a letter from the ac-
cused. In his lettey to her Rufus Bancroft had said:
“You will doubtless read the accounts given inthe news-
papers, All that I can answer is thatlam innocent.
Explanation Ihave none. With you this is, I trust, en-
lirely unnecessary, but with the world at large, and es-
pecially with the courts and the law, Ishall undoubtedly
experience a difficult task.”

Inea answered his letter briefly but sincerely, giving
him ail the assurance hie could desire of her own loyalty
and belief in his innocence, though she told him frankly
that both the doctor and Pedro were confounded by the
sirong thread of circumstantial evidence which had been
made public. With all the tenderness of her woman’s
heart she grieved that she was not with him to alleviate
his trials, but hoping for the best, she should await his
acquittal, when she knew he would hasten at once to
Buena Vista!

De Mena thought. that he saw a favorable moment now
wherein to draw a littie nearer to Inez agaiu. Both had
been somewhat distant and cool to each other since tle
occasion when he had surprised Rufus and Inez in the
coffee plantation. He iad said to hiluself that he would
“bide his time,’ but now it seemed as though fortune
favored him and he would second her interference in his
behalf, He little thought that Inez had just received a
letter from. his rival, and that she had answered it in
such a spiritas had been the case. He was quite in the
dark as lo the state of affairs.

De Mena was too polite to discuss the one subject which
had engrossed so much of the thoughts of the household
lately, but strove to make himself agreeable in every pos-
sible way to Inez. It was some time before she noticed
this change in his manner; indeed the watcnful Doctor
Finley observed it even before she did, and it was curious
to see how it filled him with rage, suppressed to be sure.
The doctor watched De Mena not only with anger to see
him pretending such love and loyalty to Inez, but also
with surprise to think that such duplicity was possible.
This man who would have betrayed the beautiful girl into
the hands of those night marauders, was now all courtesy
and devotion; well might the honest physician shudder,
for it almost shook hig faith in human nature.

Doctor Finley had grown to regard Rafus Bancroft with
positive affection, and in his heart longed to see him the
husband of Inez Ariata, whom he also loved like a daugh-
ter. Consequently he had resolved to hold back the damun-
ing evidence he had got together against De Mena until it
became necessary to use it in protecting her against the
insidious wiles of this dangerous man. He did not fear
now but that Inez loved Rufus too well to listen volunta-
rily to another man, but he also knew of the long estab-
lished purpose of Donna Ariata as to Inez and De Mena.
He did not know how the trial of Rufus might turn out,
and even should it be unfavorable, he determined that his
favorite Inez should never be sacrificed to the vile in-
triguér who had connived at her abduction,

Stilt De Mena embraced eyery opportunity to increase
his intimacy with Inez. His visits, which had heretofore,
for & Considerable period, been only moderatcly frequent,
had again become incessant, and really apzoyred rez,
who could have been. better pleased, especially at is
time, if ere rad been left some hours for private medita-
Uon aud ‘reading. Yet it was difficult to be absolutely
rude to her old friend and neighbor, for it must be re«
membered that she knew nothing of the true vileness of
his nature, and not for one moment suspected him of in-
trigue against her,

Doctor Finley observed also that De Mena was making
friendly suit to Donna Ariata, as though he was paving
the way for some sort of cousummation of his plans.

“If this girl has to fighta battle against her aunt, on
the one hand, and this man who will stick at nothing, on
the other, she will need a good friend to back her, and
Ithink lam the man! Pedro isa dear good boy, but he
is not very self-reliant, and I fear De Menu has the whip-
hand of him. Idou’t know how far it will do to let this
matter go. Supposing they do find poor Rufus guilty;
egad, What’sto be done then? Or even if he be cleared,
it must be by ‘the skin of ls teeth,’ as the saying is, and
Donna Ariata would scout at him as a suitor for the hand
of her niece. This is getting to be a complicated case.”

While the doctor was thus musing, and smoking a cigar
by himself on the piazza, he glanced into the sitting-room
and saw De Menain close conversation with Inez. That
is to say, he saw him sitting very near her, and talking
very carnestly to her. He could not hear the subject upon
which De Mena was engaged, but that he was annoying
Inez by his iimportunity was only too apparent to the doc-
tor, whose resolution was quickly formed that he would
take the necessary steps to put a stop to this business at
all hazards, .

‘Jt May as well come nowas at any other time,’ he
thought. ‘It will save her being longer importuned by
the wretch, thought it will place me ina ratlier critical
position.’?

It was not Jong before De Mena appeared upon the
piazza, when the doctor asked him to walk out into the
paths of the coffee fields with him, for a few moments.
Evidently wondering at the request, the young man com-
plied. Nota word was spoken until they had left the
house far behind them, and had reached an isolatea spot
among the heavy foliage and thick undergrowth. ‘The
doctor then turned quietly to his companion and said:

“De Mena, I have something serious to say to you.”

“Ah,’’ said the Cuban, witha quick glance of his eye as
though he anticipated something unpleasant,

“Yes. Isupposed you had given up your special at-
woe to Inez Ariata, but 1 see you are renewing them
again.

“What right have you to question me in this matter?”
asked De Mena angrily. :

“In the first place, because I love that girlas though
she were my own daughter, and in the second place be-

cause you are 80 wholly unworthy of her.”
“This is insolence,’*said De Mena, ae him in

 

a fury of passion.
“Stop, said the doctor, ‘where you
pointed his reyolver at him.

“You are armed,’’ said the angry man. ,

“Always. And, De Mena, I know how to use this little
Weapon, as well as how to carry it,” f

“it is not often that Lam. abroad without w
Was the auswer, “but lam now unarmed.

“It is, perhaps, as well,” said the doctor cooll
you had drawn a weapon upon me I should have
dead in au instant. You know quite enough of m
derstand thatjl am no braggart, but I shall al
ready for you.”’

“What does this mean ???

“It means that you are found out!*

“Found out 7?

“Yes, your connection with those night mauraders has
been known for some time!"!

“Kuown!l” murmured De Mena, looking about himself
as though he expecied to be arrested,

““You tremble, and I do not. wonder.’

“How have I been betrayed?” he asked, not pausing to
think that he was committing himself,

“It is not necessary to tell you of all the evidence
against you; sufficient that it is complete.”

“How -many know of this??? :

“IT alone up to this liour,’?

_“How-dure you tell me this 2?

. ‘Because your safety lies in my preservation. I have
‘deposited my papers with a government official at Ha-
va Not to be ORERSG ain leas 1 die, ora ) Jnissing, in

‘ta

,’? and then

.

whitch instance your fate is sealed by complete exposure,
and all of the evidence necessary to make the law claim
its'victim. Do you understandime?? =.

“Edo,” was the cold, stern reply.

an vé request to make,"
at Boeiies said De Mena, almost in a whisper, while the
perspiration stood in great drops upon his face.
*Your intimacy wiih Inez let it cease at ouce.!!
“And if I defy you?”
“My course is ‘much easier then,
before meridian to-morrow.”
“And if feomply pr ~
‘JT have no desire to see you imprisoned or garroted;
you are safe from my interference,’
“T understand you.” ‘%
“You are not an, accomplished Villain, Or you would
have denied in place of admitting this charge.’
“Don’t tempt ine too far, or 1 may first kill you aud
then niyself,’’ said De Mena. , :

for I will denounce yon

 

      
  
     
     
  
  
 
 
  
 

I will stake my life that he is |

the househoid, even Donna Ariata taking part therein

 

NEW YORK WEEKLY.

ee oe ee

einer i aati lla ie rene no-till

—

companion turned into a side path and hastened away at
arapid pace. ‘The physician had no fear of violence, for
he had taken his steps cautiously, and what he told De
Mena was perfectly correct, He knew that the man would
not madly throw away his own life, and bring disgrace
upon his name by causing those papers to be made public,
and he knew. also if auglit were to happen to himself,
who was De Mena’s bitterest enemy hencelorth, the Cu-
) uld follow, ;

e Inez and her aunt good-night, and with
ion, Cantered away toward Cereto,

BE CONTINUED.]

Matched ;

7)

TAN AGAINST WOMAN.

By Helen Corwin Pierce,

her of THE FALSE CHAMPION; THE
» CURSE OF EVERLEIGH; THE

poe INJURED HUSBAND, etc.

{Badly Matched” was commenced in No. ll. Back numbers
can be obtained from any News Agent in the United States.

CHAPTER XXII.

Let us turn back a little to that afternoon when Sterne
Beauchamp, in bitter consultation with Mr. Danvers, the
lawyer, was electrified by the sudden appearance of his
sworn enemy, Carroll Beauchamp, accompanied by a po-
lice force at the street door. 1t was a mistake, though,
about the police. They were in that quarter merely to

nell a street fight. Carroll Beauchamp had no ame,
Of the presence of the man he so feared and hated In the
lawyer's Office. Ie had hurried up to town on the next
train on purpose to put the police after him as Vershon,
which he had already done, and now had come round to
the office of his solicitor, Ostensibly to discuss some small
business matter connected with the estates, but really to
put the lawyer on his guard about Sterne Beauchamp,
never guessing that Sterne had been before him.

Danvers recéiyed him quite as usual, If there was any
uncommon emotion yisible in the lawyer’s shrewd, thin
face, Lord Beauchamp was too excited himself to notice
it, They went through the form of talking business a
while; then Lord Beauchamp dropped the upparently cas-
ual remark that a fellow pretending to be Sterne Beau-
champ had been to see him the day before,

The lawyer lifted his eyebrows.

“Odd, that!? he said. “A very poor chance an Impos:
tor would have trying to prove himself Sterne Beau-
champ.”?

“Do you think s0?"’ questioned Lord Beauchamp, eager-
ly. “The fellow was really so impudent and persistent,
that I didn’t Know at first but he might be able to give
me some trouble.”?

There was-a moment's silence; then the lawyer asked:

“What did you say to him?”

‘4 believe 1 threatened to have him horsewhipped,’’
Lord Beauchamp answered, with a fuint and unnatural
smile, “Ile may come here to you."?

“If he does, I shail know how to meet him,’ answered
Danvers, evasively.

Lord Beauchamp leaned nearer to the lawyer.

“I've found out who he is, this man who pretends to be
Sterne Beauchamp,” he said, in a low, husky voice.
“He's an escaped convict by the name of Vershon—a ter-
ribly desperate fellow. He’s got the letter ‘D’ branded
on his Jeft arm now.’

If Mr. Danvers had had any lingering doubt as to the
truth of the strange story Sterne Beauchamp had so lately
told him, they vanished now.

“How do you know that?” he demanded, suddenly. ‘If
it is true, he neyer would have shown it to you,”?

Lord Beauchamp colored and looked confused a mo-
ment.

“Never mind,’ he said.” “f do know it, and lve
put the police after him to-day. .It was part, indeed, the
most of my business in town. So if he comes here, as he
is most likely todo, you had better detain him on some
excuse, and send for the police’?

“Thanks, my lord, I decling to do so; Iam notin that
line at all,’? responded Danyd§s, with some indignation.

Lord Beauchamp stared.

“Oh, very well,” hesaid; “i doesn’t matter anyhow;
they are sure to catch him without your help.”

It was with some difficulty;that Danvers kept himself
from telling Carroll Beaucha hen and. there that he
was an infamous scoundrel, he felt that he was on
-the track of one of the foule that ever disgraced
humanity, and he dissembled

“My lord,’! he said, ‘woul
tion to you hereafter if you
man to Van Diemen’s Land, a
Sterne Beauchamp whien it wa

A singular expression dist
treacherous and cruel mouth.
furtively.

“Even then,” he said, “I shonlc
ought to be done. 1am not one of
and he straightened his short frat
consider the Jaw made for the little fishes Whew ee
ones escape. No,.no. If a Beauchamp dvetVes to :
transported, let him be transporied,..vac What @ possi-
bility to discuss. This man is, Yersvon beyond # possi-
bility of doubt. I aoe «xm to be Versnon.”? — i

If Lord uachamp had referred to the Zimes’ notice
of the escape of Version. Danvers miglit possibly ha¥e
wondered if he had not got his information there. But
he evidently had never seen that notice.

“My lord,’ said the lawyer, ‘I was trying to-day to re-
call the name of that. gentleman who brought home poor
Sterne’s trunk, and I could not. Perhaps you can refresh
my memory.’!

If Lord Beauchamp had been sn
ice bath’ he could not have chang
significantly. His: ruddy comple
yellow, hiseyes grew. suddenly
ear.

 
 
  
 
   
    
    
   
  
   

  

 

 

   
  
   
  
  
   
    
    
  
    

be a terrible reflec-
ed in returning this
overed that he was
e 9”

ord Beauchamp’s
inister eye gleamed

sonsider that justice
ose, Mr. Danvers’’==

 

 
     
   
   
   
   
  

enly plunged inan
countenauce mvore
faded to a livid
and leaden with

“The—gentleman—who—broug!
did have a most treacherous n
treacherous—I can’t think of it eit ? and his lordship
uirast his small head forward likéfa snail coming out of
its shell, and blinked his small black eyes at the lawyer.

“Odd that we should béth forget it,” said Danivers;
“somehow Thad got it in my mind that it was Vershon.?

Again that ghasuy look crossed Lord Carroll Beau-
champ’s fa¢e, ;

“It—it wasn’t Vershon, of course not,’ he stammered.
“How could it be Vershon? See here, Danvers, what are
you driving at any way !’?

“17 and the lawyer elevated his slim gray brows;
“driving at? I only said it seemed to me the man’s name
was Vershon. Iam sure you called him so to me some
time, but it might have been only a slip of the tongue.’

Lord Beauchamp’s eyes were dilated still, but he said:

“Yes, aslip of the tongue, of course,’ and very soon
got up and sanntered away with an ostentatious careless-
ness that did not deceive Danyers.

“Odd,” he said, ‘that I can't think of that fellow’s
name; it really seems important now. It’s just the clew

we Want.’? oerekte
CHAPTER XXIII,

Poor Lady Clara looked about her after Lord Arnault
had gone, with a long, struggling sigh, Hiope seemed to
have departed with the handsome young earl.

“The room positively seems darker, the air heavier,
those big hateful bars at the window bigger and blacker
than ever. What will Bruce say when he knows he has
been here? I don’t see how Mrs, Neely happened to let
him in. Bruce will be ready to murder us both.”

When Mrs. Nealy come up to officiate as jlady’s maid to
Lady Clara that night, she found her on her knees with
her face in the cushion of a chair, crying.

“My pretty lady,’ she exciaimed in the caressing voice
With which she always spoke to Lady Clara, ‘‘what has
hurt you???

Lady Olara lifted her face,and reached her little hands
imploringly to Mrs. Neely.

“My husband says I am crazy, Mrs, Neely.’?

The good woman lifted her hanas,

“That any one should have told her thatl’) she said to
herself, ‘Who told you such a story, my pet?’ she said
to Lady Clara, coaxing her up into a seat, and beginning
to brush out the short curls as she did every night.

“Itig not astory, Mrs, Neely. My husband does pre-

afraid—Lalways
Y, Danvers—most

 

  
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
    
 
 

 

‘The doctor walked quietly back to the house, but his

end it, He hates me,’ said Lady Clara, jerking her head
yay. “You know he told you so, Come now, didu’t
?)

was in vain for Mrs. Neely fo try to'evade an answer,
y Clara was bent upon inaking her speak it ont,
‘Well, yes,” acknowledged the reluctant woman at
“he did think you were a little touched.”

_ “He did not think it, He knew I was as sane as he is.

=

| He wants to get rid of me, Mrs. Neely, and marry some-

body else—a woman that he loved befere he ever saw me

--}—and he's had her staying with us nearly ail the time

since we have been married. She puts him up to things,
and she tried to kill me once herself. Then she made my
husband believe I was spying upon him, and so he
brought me down here, and he preteuds I amcrazy. You
know Vm not.” ’

“Yes, yes, deary, I know,’' said Mrs, Neely, coaxingly.

She did not believe one word of what Lady Olara said
about-her husband. Sne thought it was oue of those tales
that crazy people are always inventing. But she pre-
tended to believe her, and to sympathize with her; and
Lady Clara wandered presently from that subject toa
gt a of the days when she was Countess of Has-

rook,

“It must have been a wonderful come down for you,

my lady, to marry a commoner,” said Mrs. Neety, partly
curious, partly to keep Lady Clara talking. She hiked to
hear ihe silvery, childish voice, to watch the sweet eyes
brighten ag she chatted on,
“Of course,’’ said Lady Clara; ‘and I gave up such a
fortune to marry him. Lord Hasbrook left me ever and
ever so much money. But he willed that if I ever mar-
ried again [ Was not to haye it.”

“And you gave itup te marry Mr.
love him so much, my. lady ?!

‘A frown obscured the fair, open brow. Lady Clara
swung her little satin slippered foot to and fro a moment.

“Yes, | did, Mrs, Neely, and the more fool I. I don't
care, | will say it. .My head was full of novels, and—and
slrash, bthonght Mr. Delaney looked like a robber chief,
with his dark face and black eyes, and big black whiskers;
and then he was dlways so, so melancholy, and talked‘so
little, and he was so tall and—and‘teagic. I didn’t Know
he loved Mrs. Bazel. and I thought he had plenty of money
of hisown, He came near killing meswhen he found i
had lost my money by nurrying tim, So you see it- was
the maney fie loved und not me.”

Delaney? Did you

Dies where eie | br

 

eee eae SS

Lady Clara did not ask Mrs. Neely to conceal the fact
that Lord Arnault had been there when she wrote her
weekly report to her employer. She kuew intuitively that
il would be useless to ask sucliathing of the good and
conscientious dame, and she was also clever enough not
to hint her own suspicion of his possible disapproval, for
fear Mrs. Neely should teel it incumbent upon her to deny
the young earl admittance if he came again before she
heard from Mr. Delaney.

‘I hope he will come again, I do hope he will,’? Lad
Clara sighed to herself; ‘and I hope it’s not wrong t
wish it. He is like a glimpse of sunshine.”

lt was a little singular that both Lady Clara and Lord
Arnault should make such significant allusion in their
thoughts to the possible wrong or harm in their meeting.
Certainly both were innocent as children, and never
thoughtin all the sunny, sweet days afterward what
poison of asps might be at the bottom of the cup that was
so sweet now in the quafiing. What each meant by
“wrong’? was whal the world would think if it knew that
Lady Clara valet living here alone, as it were, in these
dim, lonely woods, recef¥ed visits from the young, hand-
some, fascinating and unmarried nobleman,

Lord Arnault did come frequently. He cameevery day,
in fact, and Mrs. Neely did not object. She was com-
pletely captivated by his winning address and manly
beanty, and perhaps won a little by the gold pieces that
from time to time Sound their way from his Jordship’s
pocket to hers, :

In a day or two he won the dame's consent to Lady
Clara riding out with him ina low, luxuricus, covered
pheton, which he had with him.

Mrs. Neely did hesitate over this matter, but the young
earl continued to satisfy her that her pretty charge was
as safe with lim as inside the stone. walls of the gloomy
domain surrounding Cypress Cottage. Besides, he point-
ed out to her how wan and thin Lady was ;
for lack of sun and air,

Thus it chanced that Lady Olara
handsomest carriage dresses, came
gayer, if possible, in eee
gloomy {sorebodings had Jurke
wait for her atevery step. She m
ture, and the very Way in which hi cart | dat
sight of her ought to have warned “Arnault of the
mischief that might come of their meeting thus familiarly
and unwatched.

His heart was in his eyes as he led her out, scarce able
to look away from her a moment. :

Mrs. Neely looked on delighted. Not a thought came to
her either that any mischief cou grow out of tle asso-
ciation of these’ two, 80 nearly of an age, so seeiningly
made for each other, Slug Bun y elleved Lady Clara .to
be partially insane, alid shé thought Lord Aruault’s kind-
4ness to her was prompted solely by pity. Perliaps he
thonght that himself, But pity surely neyer hung upon
every glance and word and movement of its Object, as he
did upoti every slightest gesture of Lady Clara's,

‘Thus it was through the best part of the long, sunny,
golden days of the next two weeks. Lady Clara was jike
a flower-bud that has drooped and bursts into new bloom
and vividness. Removed from the poisoned atmosphere
of her own apartments for so long a portion of every day,
and breathing in its’ stead the pure out-door air, she
strengthened and improved in health marvelously...

In Lord Arniault’s handsome young face grew,slowly.a
great and torturing anxiety. He knew before those bliss-

 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 

 

childish, adorable creature, with the snow-flake face and
starry blue eyes. Aud slie was the wife—nay, the pris-
oner of another’ man—the victim, perhaps, She, this
fair, frivolous and tender darling, was in the power and

He could not get rid of that awful conviction. He won-
dered that she could laugh and be so bright and gay with
that terror of her husband always hanging over her. But
he loved her the better for this light, sunny, careless
spirit which forgot sorrow afd fear the moment its im
mediate presence was removed. :

“I believe I should have died if you had not come,’ she
said to him gratefully sometimes. ‘I used to have such a
burning sensation in my chest,such an oppression for
breath, and the most torturing thirst.

Lord Arnault started and grew pale,,

“What is that you are Saying, my lady 7?

She repeated her words, and he turned paler still. Then
he forced a laugh. ,

“Odd, isn’t it!’ he said; “but
symptoms I have heard attributed
possible——’?

“That my husband has been trying to poison me}
laughed Lady Clara. “I think not. He could only do
that through Mrs. Neely, andI believe the good ‘soul
would take poison herself first. Beside, she complains
somelimes in the same way since she has been sleeping
in my room.. She thinks it is my room.”

*‘And you are entirely relieved of these unpleasant sen-
sations now 7??? questioned Lord Arnault,

“Mostly; 1 suffer yet in the morning though, and oh, I
had such a singular dream last night. I do have such bad
dreams. Shall I tell you this one?’

“Tf you like.’

“} thought I was dead, and that my shroud was made of
just such ca be ae my a et sung W finesse re-
member that pretty greelt silk and 1 thotgh aoe
Soa nea With it, and Ulat yyegeree Rruered the it

prenedsee tila that tmneecergs iT est. And I thouglit
presently my Coffin was lified, and } was carried out to-
ward the graveyard, and lseemed to kuow tliat there
were nO mourners, and No hearse, no bearers but one,
and while I was wondering who that one eould be, Mrs.
Bazel put her face over the side of the coffin, and suid, as
lye heard her a hundred times, ‘It’s only me, sweet.’
And I then screamed,.and jumped up in my coffin, and
Mrs. Bazel ran away, and the next moment I saw her
with both her long white arms round my husband. His
face was as pale as death, but he did not try to come to
me; and Mrs. Bazel had my sapphires on her neck, and
on her arms. aud in her yellow hair. On! how L hated
her. And then py green sliroud was burning me again,
and.as 1 was Urying to tear it of, I woke. It was some mo-
ments before I could convince niyselfit was the walis of
my room iwas looking at instead of the sides of my
coffin.”

“It was certainly avery singular dream,*? Percy Ar-
nault said, thoughtfully,

“I hope you are not superstitious, Lord Arnault,”? Lady
Clara said, lightly.

“N-o,’! the young mat answered thoughtfully, “I was
only thinking of au odd cofneidence which L wonder dld
not strike me before. I have a frieud in London who dab-
bles a good deal in chemistry. The Fast time I was at his
house he was very much interestec in Some experinients lie
was making with a new kind of fabric for wall-hangings,
He assured me that there was enough poison in the stuff to
kill an army, and | remember that’ he said’ it would be
slow death Lo whoever occupied the apartment hung with
it. Tthought at the time thatif he was right there might
be a goed many poisoned, for the color was a very béau-
tiful one—an exivemely brilliant green.

Percy Arnault Jooked anxiously at his lovely compat-
ion as he said this, but she was laughing gayly.

‘‘Whata goose your friend must be, Lord Arnault, to
fancy that any one can be poisoned by the hangings of a
room. He could never make me believe it,’?

“And yet the very suffering of which you complain, and
which I have told you are among some of the strongest
syinploms Of poisouing may arise from that cause alone.
How do you know that Mrs. Bazel, who hag once at-
tempted your life, may not have selected these very hang-
ings for your rooins?? /

Mrs. Bazel! That thought sentashudder of horror
through the delicate and sensitive Lady Clara. Had not
Mrs. Bazel selecied and given her the horse by which she
had come so hear losing her life?

The frightened child Jooked-so much like fainting at the
thought that Lord Arnawit blamed himself bitterly for
speaking so abruptly, and endeavored now to change the
subject. But Lady Clara would not permit him,

‘1 won't sieep in those rooms again till every thread of
that stuff istorn down, she declared. ‘Turn the car-
riuge, Lord Arnault, and take me back tothe house. I
must tell Mrs, Neely at once.’?

The end was near, Lady Olara’s brief day of respite
from the fate her husband and Mrs. Bazel had appoiuted
for her was almost over.

you describe the very
to poison. It can’t be

 

 

CHAPTER XXIV.

Barely six weeks had elapged since Lady Clara's cruel
and forced departure from Longmere,

Bruce Delaney had not stirred from home in the time.
Ile was in the habit of going often to London, but now he
was perhaps afraid of meeting some one he did not wish
to see.

Barely.six weeks, but Mrs. Bazel was
goaded Delaney all the time. .

Mrs. Neely’s: letter, after some delay, had reached
Longmere, Mrs. Bazel received it and read it frst; then
sie went to the billlard-room, where Bruce Delaney was
having a gloomy game all by himself.

He frowned when he saw the handsome Widow, though
she was in a brilliant toilet, and looking very beautiful,
except for the rage in her eyes.

He frowned again at sight of Mrs. Neely’s letter, and
hurried to say:

“Read it yourself, Juiia, and don’t bother me with it.”

“Il have read it,” said the handsome widow, grinily,
“Your devoted wife is in better health than she ever was
inher life, and having gayer times, Lord Arnault is
down there, and spends all his thme with her.”

The widow fairly guashed her teeth as she said it.. To
think that this young earl, who was to have fallen so
easy & prey to her own mature and resplendent charms,
stiould have gone to bask in the smiles of that “silly
‘thing.

dlancy stared.

“Lord Arnauit ?? he sald... “Impossiblet”

Mrs, Buzel sneered openly.

“She loves you so she would die for you”

“Give me tire letier.’?

He took it and read it through slowly, its face’ darken-
ing all the time, ;

“Whatis to bedone?? .

“You must go to Cypress Cottage at once,
those doves. Ten chances to one,

impatient, and

and separate

for you, and perhaps she can get a divorce then, and:
marry him.’

Delaney’s dark face grew livid with fear and rage..

“If she has,” he said, “I’ll murder them botih. I've
been a fuol about that girl, but I won't be any longer,
You stian’t complain of my slowness any more, Julia.)

Mrs. Bazel laughed wickedly—a low, awful sound.

have just one word to say to you, Bruce. If you want
the fortune itat is Vida Chandos’ now, you will haye to
work for it.’

“I mean Lo.”

 

“Yon've got one more difficulty to contend with now—
a very huge one, too, it may prove,’’

“Lord Arnault ?!?

“Yes.

“I can manage him.

“You must contrive so that 06 suspicion can possibly
be excited,”!

She spoke in alow and most signiticant tone, and De-
laney shuddered slightly as he looked at her. .
‘Did it neyer strike you as singular,” he said, “how
much more cold-blooded and merciless than a man the

-| gentlest aud sweetest of you women can be. when yeu

once get fairly started ?”

The widow shrugged her graceful shoulders,

“We make better haters than you meg. Is that what
you mean ?”’ she said, scornfully.

“Yes, that is about it, I suppose—better. haters and bet-
ter lovers. I wonder if you and I could have made good,
honest Christains, under any circumstances? I think &
might if I bad never seen you or Lord Vaux’s jewels.”

The handsome widow whitened as she shot him a curt
ous glance.

“It may not be too late yet,” she sneered. “TI presume
they have parsons and that sort of thing in plenty in Van
Diemen’s Land, and you can go there any time when yeu
get tired of playing gentleman, you know.”?

He flashed her a strange look.

“T bellevé I should have come out a great deal nearer @
Christian gentleman if I liad never seen you. You were
my fate, Julia, from the first. Do you remember those
old days at Putney before you ever thought of the stage?
How handsome you were then, and how you bus ned
when I told you 80," - - ¥

Mrs. Bazel made a nervous movement, aud her brows
contracted slightly,

“Why do you want to go back to that?"

“Because I think you did love me, then, and you seem-
ed pure and innocent comparatively. Those were the
happiest days my life ever knew since 1 was a child.
Heavens above, were ever leayes so green or flowers so
bright? Did the sun ever shine so golden.as Ufen, whem

 

ful days were half done, that though he should live a
thousand years, he could never love any woman bat this,

at the mercy of one who hated her and wanted her life. !

youand J, hand in hand, went strolling through the
hawthorne lanes behind Putney ??? ats

Mrs. Bazel did not answer. Her brilliant eyes were
gazing far away into the past—nay, fariher still, to the
hawthorne Janes beyond Putney, ,

“Do you know,’”’ he went on in that same low, half
melancholy tone, ‘I think sometimes that if the devil had
not been watching u8 at Putney, you and T’might have
been contented to setiie down in obscurity and innocence,
poor indeed, but happy. Perhaps we should have had
sweet and pure, pretty children about ns now; and——'®

“Will you be stiil?’’ Mrs, Bazel burst forth suddenly.
“T won'’tiisten to you, The deyil got you and me long
before that time at Putney. He got me, the day my
mower leff hey child and her doting husband to run
away with Sir Roger Lumley, He got you the day you
saw me first, for | had vowed then, child as I was, Lo do
men all the mischief I could in FAT peot for Sir Roger’s
wrong to my father and mé.’! She laughed bitterly.
“Did I blush wlien you called me handsome? I must
have been extremely well up in my part, Jor J knew how
beautiful I was, a great deal better than you could tell me,
even then. It was for me you stole “Lord Vaux's jeweis,
too, only Irather overshot myself in believing you wher
you denied any knowledge of them eyen tome. 1 believe
your idea was fo save me from the knowledge of your
crime, though you kuew I was crazy about them; but at
‘the last you let the secret slip. You as good as owned to
taking them tat morning when I went to see you in Milt-
bank prison; but you wouldn’t tell mé Where you had
concealed them. You wouldn’t trust me. You meant ta
come back and enjoy them all by yourself.”

Mrs. Bazel Jaughed long aud mockingly. Delany’s face
had grown black and blacker as she went on,

“Julia, f was you who Look the jewels froni where I had
hidden them,” cashes

She langhed again, more iM aso before.

     

“Tam about as clever at finding us you ure at hiding.'®
Delaney, Was staring-at her with eyes of glittering fire.
“You took the jewels?’ he said, slowly, “What did
ou do with them then ??- 7

“Sold them,’? Mrs. Bazel said, laconically.

“Js that where the money came from that I found yu

sporsing on when 1 came to London ??

The handsome widow nodded mialiciously.

 

“And you never married that miser Bazil after all?”
The widow made a decided grimace,
“Yes, I did marry him, when he, was on his dewh-bed,
thimking he would give me his money, but he died without
making a sign, and alll got washisname.”
“And the money you got for the jewels? You. nerer
spent it all in the space of twelve months???

Mrs. Bazel shook her handsome head, smiling.

“What then??? : Ze

“{ spent a good share of it. I tried to get atitled hus-
band with, it,” she said, coolly, ‘but the wpper erust
fought shy of me, im spite of My beauty and the money.
I had no antecedents, you see; 80 I gave that game up,

 

she hus told) him all}
there is to tell, They have only to séttle your business |,h

“You'll get soft-hearted again before you get to her. I)

and put the money tliat was }eft in bank.”
“How much?! <a adel
“About twenty thousand poands!’ jen

uttered a low, éry Of anguish" ;

Saen ane had it all ‘Hague this time that you,
hi heen joowng me OT Rew wickedness, that we,
BD @ rich ?? gies re GSS gs lh

Mrs. Bazel nodded carelessiy, and settled Lady Olara’s
sapphire bracelets on her marble white arms.

Delaney slood gazing at her, The despair and agony of
his eyes were pitiful to see. . : : ;

“And all that time you never Joved me?’ he went om,
“You lied to me, when I would have seld my soul
When Lentreated you to go away with me to some ob-.
cure part of England, and let. me work for you, rather
than do more wickedness, and told. you how that

unl EOL
gentieman’s screams haunted me, you: said:we were Ny

t

poor; and yet you, had {his money-alk that times

doing any more wrong?’! , jo} Bessy

Mrs, Bazel turned aud laid her symimetri¢al white hand
It was as deceit{nl as the velyet paw “4

upon his shoulder,

oi a pauther, as he ought to have knewm ». ye, dor.08
“You foolish Bruce,’ she sail, in. a low voice, fal»
ways loved ycu'as much as could any one. If] had told

you of that money, should we be living’ now at this beau:
liful Longmere? [ow would your aristocratic and ele-
gant tastes have found gratification, if you had not aurned
io account with Carrol, Beauchamp that. little event im
Van Diemen’s Laud. . You had ho idea of undoing that
deed. I only told you how to make more out of ity Yow
were born for a genlleman, Bruce, and you havelived the
life of an extravagant gemieman three whole yeurs. Who
have you to thank for it? ,Who arg you repreaching for
showing you how to secure it all ?? :

He sighed heavily, » WIFE.

“I know, I know,”? he said, droppiig: his head despond-
ently. ‘I wish Lwas dead, Julia—f ao indeed’!

Mrs, Bazel’s scarlet lip curled scornfailys then she said,
soothingly:

“If you were dead, dear, Ishould want to die; too.?!

He looked upamoment straight into her glittering:
false eyes. The wieked woman contrived sotmehow ta
filk those dazzling orbs with tears. She leaned her radiant,
yellow-tressed head upon his shoulder.

“You are very cruel to me,’ she said. ;

lie clenched his) teeth a moment as he looked at the
face that had ruled him solong. Then he pushed her
from him with a half-menacing expression. Oi

“Don’t do that, he said. “When you cry, I know
you're contriving Some mischief a great deal niore devil-
ish than usual;? iG

The widow wiped her eyes, smiling treacheronsly.

“The Hasbrook Chandos estates are worth at least fifty
thousand @ year,’ she said; “beside the town house; the
plate, the country seats and carriages, the troops Of ser-
vants. Ah! to be mistress of fifty thousand a year, my
dearest, I should simply worship the man who gave me
such a position as that.’’

CHAPTER XXYV.

Less than aweek after the interview between Mrs.
Bazei and Bruce Delaney, detailed in the previous chap-
ter, acarriage containing the brilliant widow paused at
the entrance to Cypress Cottage. She Was looking un-
commouly handsome, as she usually did when she had
any especially wicked plan afloat, although she bad fode
night aud day from Lougmere. ' :

bustling about, preparing breakfast for Lady Ciara, who
had not yet arisen.
comer, With her white face and yellow hair forming suck
acontrast to her long black dress,
and tall.

“Iam Mrs. Bazel,’’ the lady said

with such sweetness that, as Mrs. Neely said, “it almost

took her breath away,’? and she almost forgot to be,
mentioned s@ ~

startled at the name, whicleshe had heard
often by Lady Clara in tones of aversion. -
“IT have come to take Lady Clara Delaney away,’? Mr&
Bazel said, in the same sweet voice. ‘Can I see her?!
Mrs. Neely turned white and nerveless in a moment,
Her heart seemed about to be torn asunder, ;
“To—take—her—away?” she ‘stammered, strangely.
“Sheis far from well yet.’? Bile
“I know. Her dear husband thinks this is not perhaps -
so healthy a location for her as some Other,” saitl Mrs.
Bazel, looking boldly at the woman. “I cam go right up,
can’t I? I suppose this isthe way.” 4, g
She crossed the room with her stately gliding lend Her

foot was already on the first step of the.staits leading to!
Lady Clara’s room. ’ ;
Mrs. Neely interposed. 2

Otay
‘Please,’ she said, ‘‘my lady has not yet risen.”

Mrs. Bazel laughed. f

   
    

“That is of no consequence,’? she said, Nghtly; “she
won't mind me. Hurry your breakfast, da we ,
be off in an hour. [aim in great haste?’ » ,.

, She darted up the stairway and paused dy Clara’s
door, turning the knob silently, She first the

)sitting-room. Nae
fiady Clara had caused the whole of that treacherous
‘siiken web to be torn from them, and Lord Arnault had
ordered blue hangings from London, but:they lad not yet
‘eome. aft sort

Mrs, Bazel's cruel face darkened as shelooked abous

er. a 58
| “Did Bruee deceive me?’ she muttered. ‘No, the
hangings have been on, for here isashred of them still
clinging to the wall. What could haverinduced Clara to
‘pull them off? She is too silly to suspeet.’?

Lord Arnault had remained late the night before, sing-
ing some himself, and listening a great deal to Lady
Clara’s'marvellous voice. The evidenees of his preeence
did not escape Mrs. Bazel's jealous and ebseryant eye, A’
man's glove, delicate, slim, like the nristocratic hand that
had shaped it, and slightly scented, lay on the piano. A

 

 

Shawl of exquisitely fine lace was flung over the back of
a chair and trailed up on the velvet carpet. Canght in the

for you. °»
)
money Which would at least. lave gpared us the need of'/

4

It was still very early, but Mrs. Neely was down staits ©
Mrs. Neely stared at sight of the new- _
and slie So huughty ;
smiling slightly, bue-

i a”

'_ The dismantled walls arrested her attention at once. .

 

 

 

 

 

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Ping

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eeepc

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enstaiacnrabdaainenst

nani is alta

onto

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“believe she means to take me to Longmere.

meshes of this, something glittered. Mrs. Bazel stooped
and disengaged it. It was ove of a pair of very dainty
gleeve-libks, each button a camev, carved in pink tinged
sardony aud set in an elaborate fret work of tiny diamond

sparks.

The beautiful widow’s scarlet ips curled as she looked
at it,

“] am scarcely in time,’? she said, holding the pretty
trinket ip her white palm. ‘They must have grown yery
‘jntimate.”

Then she turned and swept into the next room, where

Lady Clara was still sleeping. She stood a moment look-

about her there, with that Same wicked sneer, then as
if her poison presence had already made the air oppres-
sive, Lady Clara turned upon her Jace-trimmed pillow aud
saw her.

A low cry broke from her—a cry of dread and terror—
and the sweet lips paled.

She looked like a scared child, as she sat up and gazed
with wild and frightened eyes at this Woman whom she
feared more than she did her husband, more than she did

living creature,
e widow saw and exulted. in the impression she
made. She advanced with her hands extended.
tlie loye,’? she said, “how sweetly you are looking.
sy Willi not know you at Longmere.”
7 ere??? echued Lady Clara, in a startled voice.
“Am I going back to Longmere?” >

Your deur husband has sent me for yon,’? sail Mrs,
Bazel, sinking into a low silken chair and Joosening the
ribbous of her broad black hat, ‘he finds it impossible lo
live without you.” ,

White aud trembling, with her heart beating fast, Lady
Clara listened. Waste glad orsorry that her husband
had sent for her? ‘

She jay back upon her pillow, and shut her eyes. Ilow
cold and sick she suddenly felt.

«Where did you get this pretty trinket, Clara?” Mrs.
Bazel said, extending the sleeve liunksie had found, ‘1
hever saw you wear it.’?

*-1t is Lord Afnault’s,’’ she said, and then burst into
Passionate weeping.

The widow shrugged her shoulders.

Really,’ she exclaimed, ‘are you so sorry as that to
leave him.’ Upon my word, that youbg manu must bea
very eugnging creature.”

Lady Olara scurcely comprehended her, butstie felt the
biverness and sarcasm in the widow's tone.

“You had better be dressing,’ said Mrs, Bazel, “Tintend
to be off in another hour.” ;

Lady Olara stopped crying and stared at her.

“In an hour,’ she exclaimed, ‘and all my things to
pack ?”?

“Oh, Unat won’t take Jong,’ responded Mrs. Bazel. “I
ean do that.’?

Lady Clara crept out like a driven child, and began to
dress with numbcand chilly fugers.

“T want Mrs. Neely,’’ she said, presently.
always helps me dress,”) ~

“Mrs. Neely Is getting your breakfast.
alone for ounce, [should think.
Chara”?

Ciara made noreply, but her Jips quivered, and the
tears kept rolling down her cheeks,

Mrs. Bazel set to work at olce packing Lady Clara’s
trunks like an experienced hand. It took lounger than she
expected, and Lady Clara made use of several ingenious,
but transparent, devices to hinder the process. Huwever,
i was Only seven o’clock when tlicy fiually descended to
the breakfast table, where Mrs. Neely sut with very red
and swollen eyes. Y

“] should have liked to say good-by to Lord Arnault,”’
Wady Clura said as they quilted the tabie, she having
eaten almost uothing, “he has been su kind to me.*?

“Mrs. Neely can suy that for you, and beside you will
see him very soon at Longmere, I dure say.” :

Mrs. Bazel moved toward the door us she spoke, and
stood impatiently waiting, while Lady Clara said good-by
to Mrs. Neely, Wio took poor, shivering und shuddering
a Olura in her motherly arms as she bade her fare-
well, :

“I wish Lwas going with you, dearie,’’ she said. “My
heart misgives me that Ill never see you again.”

Mrs, Bazel heard, and turned sharply round.

“Why not, pray??? she cried. ‘Why shouldn't yousee
her again ?”?

“{ don’t know why, I am sare,” stammered Mrs. Neely;
“*'T just felt so,’?

Mrs. Bazel muttered some contemptuous exclamation,
and turned away aguin.

a “‘T don’t like her, dearie,’’ Mrs. Neely whispered to Lady
ara.

“You'll believe me now,”! said Lady Clara, in the samé
whisper. ‘Telli Lord Arnault how sorry I was to go with-
Out seeing him again, and ask him to come to Lougmere;
and oh, Mrs. Neely, tell him these words,”?

“Yes, yes.”

Lady Clara. whispered them in her very ear:

Tell himithat i7@ give all the world now if I'd don
what he asked me to the first day tie came here.’

Mrs. Neely repeated the words afier her.

**])) remember,’? she saiud.. ‘Oh, how white you are,
and how your eyes shine, my pet! What ails you?”

Lady Ciara clung to her.

“Dm so afraid!’ she whispered, hysterically.

“Mrs, Necly

You can dress
What a baby you are,

“T don't
I don’t be-
lieve it at ali.’?

“Qome,’? interposed Mrs. Bazel, ‘you two have whis-
pered together long enough; it is time we were olf.”

With a look of agony aud fear thut haunted Mrs, Neely
long after, Lady Ciura said good-by once more, aud moved
toward the walting carriage.

[TO BE CONTINUED. }

BETTINA,
The Italian Nurse;

pe aoe ie T

Whose Wife Is She?
By Annié Lisle,

{“Bettina” was commenced in No. 12. Back numbers can be
obtained trom any News Agent in the United States. }

CHAPTER XII. *
WHOSE WIFE IS SHE?

One of Bettina’s troubles, and not the least of them, was
somethipg she could breathgedo no ear, hor even think of
without a painful blush,

She could conceal nu longer from herscif that there was
an impassioned tendernessin Ductor Uilin’s every word
and look When they chanced to be alone together, which
she ought not to tulerate, and it was with aimoste shud-
der she recalled the species of fascination that bound her
when ib his presence. é

With this fuscinuation, this charm that allured her, she
was Conscious that there was blended a feeling of perfect
trast, which her reason taught he was not worthy of, aud
which rendered his society ihe more dangerous for her.

This subject was uppermost in her thoughts,"vut min-
gied wilh more charity than usual in her heart toward
him from the fact of the memory of all his Kind acts hay-
ing just been recalled by his thoughtfulness in turning
aside the pointof one of Lissa’s artless speeches, which
she had felt to be more cruelly barbed than ever, as with
a pate and troubled face, aud languid, weary step hat
told much of the heavy heart within, slie took Eddie for a
walk one bright, autuinnal morning.

Through the broad fields they passed where the cloud
shadows came and went, and theimmortelle was fust
whitening ia the sun, the bitter-sweet trailed its red ber-
Fries. along the fence, at the foot of which sweet ferns grew
in great luxuriance, now fast losing their delicute green
tint; gay, painted leaves filied up every patliway, and
brightly-coiored was the landscape stretching far away,
for the Kings of the forest were allright royally clothed
in purple and gold, their gay foliage lighted up by the
gilded sunshine.

With her true, artistic taste and Keen love of the beau-
tifal, Bettina wouid at another time have deeply enjuyed
these beauties of the dying year, but now it was with
an abstracted mind that she plucked the flowers and ber-
ries, abd sought the shelter ol a tree to arrange her bou-
quet, It was

 

 

 

 

‘a crimson tree,
Where lover to Jistening maid mizht breathe his fame,
Nor mark within its roseate canopy
‘ Her blush of maiden shame.”

She had Jeft Eddie ata few yards distance clambering
over some flat rocks, robbing them of their coverings of
moss and ljichens, bub when she turned lo give him the
bouquet he was no where to be seen, Sie called, bur
With no answer but an echo. .

Affrighted she ran through the groye, her heart beating
Wildly as she called his name with an almost breathless
woice. Toherunspeakable relief she Soon hesrd an an-

~swer in a familiar tone, asatall Mgure came tn view,

bearing the Jittie truant Jn his arms.

“On, my darling boy, where had you gone? suid Bet-
tina, with a quivering voice aud Learsul cyes, us slo Kissed
him lenderly,

“Not far of; bat how pale.you are,
frightened?” asked Doctor Milin,

“Oh, yes, I was indeed. J shall keep you ta sight here-

Were you badly

after, liuie runaway,’ she said, plackug mn ub her feet

among the rustling jeaves nud tossing her Douquet a Ins

aD.
‘Here, little man, is eomething to.amuse yous wind this
bitler-sweet around your curly pate,’? Doctor Vii sald,
taking a seat beside him.

“No, no,” said Eddie, and With pretty baby wiifulness,
and ingspite of Bettina’s remonsirances, he persisted in
faking of her hat aud attempting lv pul the wreath ou
her hair.

Dootor Uilin Jent him some assistance, and If. lis ads
miration at the result was not expressed quire 80 Velie
mently as by Kddie’s warm Kisses, It was nv Jess unints-
lakubie, a8 his eyes dweit adiuiringly, upon ler beaubitul
head wilh ils gay crown,

Meeting his ardentginnce, Bettina returned it with a
hank at ae u8 se arose quickly, and extending ler
land, silids :

“Oome, Eddie, we-mnst go home.!?

But with an'iinpatiert “No, vol? the cilldran to Doc-
tor Ullin.

“Lami going, Bddie3 you would not like to stay here
alone ??? : ;

“No, Paul,’’ Jisped the baby tongne, and ke unceremo-
Riously clinibed upon his knee.

Docior Dulin put his arm around the boy, nnd brushed
away the goliew curls tint claiig lohis white forehead,
Bnevurngedt by the Guress, he threw back Is Jiewd and
laughed exuluugly.

  

Bettina stood a title apart, tupping the ground impa-
liently with her foot, while her tngers were nervously
fearing the immuortelles in pieces. -

“Doctor Ullin, will you please allow him to come to
me??? she said, in a cold voice.

As Doctor Uiliu removed his arm, Eddie nestled closer
lo hin.

“You see 1 do not detain him,’ Ire remarked, with an
amused smile at Bettina’s evident vexalion and the little
one’s defiance.

“Then you should tell him to obey me. You should not
teach him to. disrespect me, too,’ sire suid, iuspetuously.

“Heaven forbid that] should do so, Bettiual You must
always do as Bettina wishes. She says you must go home
now,” he said very seriously to Eddie, as he tried to put
him from his kuee; but the child obstinately resisted.

Bettina’s love for him was always am absorbing pas-
sion; jealous of any preference shown toanother, us there
Washo other with whouw she dared share the love she
bore for him. Of late, since the withdrawal of Mrs. Uilin’s
favor, she had felt doubly desolate and alone in the world,
aud this feeling had become even deeper aud. more it-
tense. Now, uuabie lupger to contre! her ¢motions, she
knelt beside him; and winding her arms around hia,
eried, in a yoice choked wilh tears:

“Eddie, my darling! my only one! haye you, too,
ceased Lo Jove me f”?

aud the sweet Jips showered kisses upon her troubled
face, While tears of sympathy filed his large, brown eyes.
Understanding so weil Betlina’s warm, impetuous ha-
2 Ulin was deeply touched by Us litle secne.
giant all wise resolves. Were forgotten, unpleas-
is Biweptaway, and recoguiziug nothing but

    
  
  
 
  
    

‘ju lus ars, in a quick, passionate

ae
her feet, with not a vestige of color in her
indignant fae, while her whole frame shook with emo-
lion, she suid, in a smothered voices
“How dare you—how dure you insuléme so ?*? i
“Forgive ine, Bettina, 4 did not meun it for an insult;
Tam your true friend?
“Frendship Warrants no such act,’? she replied, an-

 

grily. f

“Oall it then by whatever name you choose, so you-be-
lieve mie that it was an honorable leeiiug which prompted
it.” A

“Honorable! Doyou know the meaning of theavord?
You, aaarried man, with -an lunocent, trustiug wie,
who is dying tlo——"?

“Good Heavens, Bettinal what do you mean? What
vilestory have you heard 2? ii

A lovk of scorn Was-heronly reply.

“Speak! .L) will Knowl? and he grasped her arm
roughly. :

“| have heard nothing.
OWN senses,’?

*Aud they appear strangely perverted to-day. Uncover
your eyes, Bettina, aud Jet me lovk into theu, for t verily
believe youre cruzy.’?

Complying with ihe request, she removed her glasses,
und looked him steadily im the face.

“Now will you be youd enough to tell me in what way
Tam accused of having disposed of my wite, afi am mar
ried ?”? he said, witha perplexed Couutenauce, and folding
lS arms across jus chest : ;

Bettina looked her astonishment at themuun’s effroutery
as she replied with cool jiudignation;

“Ido uot kuow iu what way you have brought her to
her present condition, your own heart can probably best
uuswer that quesiion.? i"

“You speak in enigmas. Were it not that I believe you
to be laboring under Some strange huilacination I would
not jisten as patiently as 1 do, for you have calied ine @is-
honorable, wud such w repruach Lever before rested Upod
my name’? f .

There was a moment’s silence between them, and then
he continued:

“| willence more ask you to explain the meaning of
your words. Yuu do hot auswer. Well, since it seems
uecessary fur me to first make the dental, ldo most posi-
TVG. mHBEED that Lau nod, nor uever haye been iar-
ried,

“Not married, Doctcr Ulin! What do you mean; is
not. Cornelia your wiley?

I have only the evidence of my

 

 

“Betta! Bettina! is it possible that you have been
under our roof su long and never learped (hat Coruelia is
my Sister, my own dear sister?" /

Your sister!’ sie slowly answered, in a tone not much
louder than a whisper, Wile with the rapidity ef ligtt-
ning she mentally reviewed the past, recailing as she did
sua hundred litle incidents and Yretmurks (hat went to
corroborate the truthot his denial, and sie could only
Stand amazed at her own stupidity und blinduess.

Ductor Udin wateued. willl interest Lhe varied) expres-
sion of her face, and when at last sne glanced up at hun,
said interrogatively:

“Wellt?

Willia pleasant smile and alittle sigh of relief, she
answered: at HR

“Oh; Lam very glad—very glad.) s

“Giad for her sake, or mine?” he asked with a smile
at the sudden change in her voice and jianuer,

“For both of you. At first my sympathy was strongly
enlisted in your behalf, them wilh all wy heart] pied
her”?

“And why ?—because you thought me unfaitifal 7.

“*Yes,??

“How long have you had this opinion of me?”

“} wouid raier uot tell, you,’? was the reply after a

nuse.

“But I wish it, Bettina. Tell me,’ he said earnestiy,

“Then, since Mademoiselle Lascelles’ arriyal,’’ slice an-
swered ia a low, hesitating voice.

Doctor Uilin bit his lip with vexation at what appeared
to have been an unexpected reply, while he, ip lis turn,
Look a short retrospective view before saying:

“And vou have ull Liis line thougit me v villain, On,
Betlinal?

“No—YES—I don't know,”

“Rather a conulradictory statement,’? he said, more
nimiused than angry al her Confession.

Then drawing nearer aud bending low, he whispered:

“Wus it because you ,thougltl me married Uiat you
were as indignant wilh ile Jiberty 1 took with this white
hand?

Lower and lower drooped her head while cheek and lips
grew red as the berries iu her hair as slic answered:

“Yes,?? and drawing away her hand, sire traced with
the stem of the iymortelle the blue yes where his lips
had beet pressed.

There was a luminous light in Doctor Uilin’s eyes as
they rested on the beautiful, dow cast face,

Feeling ratner lian seeing lis gaze, which added to her

embarrassment, Sue allempled tu replace her hat, forgei-

ting the wreath with) which she was crowned. He as-
sisted her ju removing it, and again his hand wandered
lovingly over the rich dark waves, and one shining tress
that lad escaped jrum the rest he raised steaithily Lo his
lips.

“Now look up, Beltina, and tell me if you will trust me
in tpe fucure,” and he extended his hand, into which she
contidingly placed her own as she auswered iu a low
voice, but earuestly:

“Twill
_ Tuere was fascination in her perfect trust and carnest-
ness. Lhetouch of the little, warm hand thrilled hin.

Tue beautiful eyes, suffused with emouon, Charmed fii,

and i au justant he drew her into iis embrace, his arms
were around her, her head upon ius shoulder, For one
brief moment! Lhe tired, weary, lonely heart rested, Rested
With hat delicious sense of pence aud securily which bul
one among all others in the wide world can yield a true,
loying woman; butin that same blissful moment came
memory! The hard realities of life sharply awakeuing
lier from. ihe short drean: of happiness, :

With a lieavy sigh she disengaged herself from his
clasp, ;
 betore jeaving me promise that should a day come
wheu you need a friend you will call upon me,” suid hie,
“Ay you are 2ow Ll will, As the usband of another |
canuot.’?

“Yuu are anticipating events,” he replied, haughtily.

Bat he well understood that she referred to his murry-
ing Lissa, aud as ke spoke his arus dropped and she
shrank uway as though suine uucougeuial presence stood
between them,

Calling tv Eddie, who was running hither and thither
through the rusling Jeaves, she Blarted homeward, aud
Doctor Dulin plunged tuw the thickest of the wood,

Le felt that he must have time for reflecitum and self
communion befure Baga Appearmg before others, A
inore Nopulsive, magiualive mun would never have cel-
sured himself so Keely for having been thus ledaway by
his feelings agusust ali Judgment as Doctor Uiltn now did.

All the pride vf the Utins flowed rapidly through his
yelus when he thought of wedding oue beneath hina, aud
upon Whose hame it nught be there rested a siain. This
won, Veaulitul, Winning aud loveable as she was,
striking a chord in his heart that no other had ever
touched, or ever might, why did she wrap herself in mys-
tery, except trough Jear of being Known as she was?
What olher conswuction could he plaice upon it all but

just that which his mother had done? Tuen with the

sirange contradiction of huiian hature, or more truthfully
inan nature, le felt himself biamimg ler severely for the
fascination sue exercised over hin.

Yuere was but one way of ending it, as fate seemed to
compel them to live under oue rool, Au jusurmountable
burrier must be raised between them. Aud why uot?
There could surely be nothing but pleasure in knowing
that one pair of soft eyes woule always grow brigliter ai
his coming, that one pure and inuocent heart such as lie
firsuly Velheyed Lissu Lo possess should trust itself wholly
tu hit, and belong to the lair young wife who would Bit
beside his hearth stone.

Yet even in the midst of this pleasant home vision that
he bad conjured up rose the figure of the tropical woman,
inteuse im nought, soul and act, who could Hilhis whole
heart With a& storm Ol passion, und meet every unsatisfied
sense of his being.

Nv cousinly affection there that could be cultivated up
to the mark of what wus duel ,

Then with an angry exclamation at his own weakness
and folly he voweu to rit himself of this infatuation, and
ut.ouce to Nake it un impossible thing to cherish jouger,
Her friend he would ever ve but from: this time forth he
would cast her out frou lis luve forever,

Aud Bettina?

lu tier own room she sat with dreamy eyes recalling
his euch word, Jook und action, hot that she too did Wot
ceusure herself, wid with bitterness tuo Jor having for a
moment yielded to the longings of her weary heart,
yet there Was a sense of gladness and joy as an maider-
current i tke assurance that sie hada plice in tis
heart, and i the Knowledge rat she tad aright to ib as
he was free. There hud been no geuéll in accepting hts
caresses, and this once, only this ouce’she would eujoy Lie

 

 

hupplucss of w bitssful memory,

 

R fe eid

Instantly the lite hands were clasped around her neck, -

feelings that filled his heart, he;

Well she knew that with tle first moments of calmness
and self-recollection he would with his strong
banish her from himas faras possille, ¢  —
With a woman’s quick intuition she
than Doctor Ullin did himself the ing
his contemplating a marriage, as sh
with his cousin. That which the uiat
at by reason and judgment the womal
tuitively: ,
“Her rapid mind decides wh
She feels a'truth which he
Believing as she did that this ma
at uo very distant day, she was not
the entire Change there wasiu his
Ife tuok no notice of her presence by word or actio
cach succeeding day they appeared to drift farther ;
further apart. : he
She knew him tobe too honorable to be actu
mere caprice, so attributed his coldness almost
tue desire tO Make her furget dis weakness, in}
perhaps by an iucreasing attachment for Lissa, v

Yet trough all his neglect Bettina Knew that the prom-
ise he had given her would be held sacred aud never re-
called, that he would truly be a friend to her in all time
tu come, and she often thought that he watched to shield
her from pain and unkindness iu adroidy turning aside
the pelsoned darts of Lissa’s remarks, whom he never
rebuked, however, apparently thinking her quite as inno-
cent and unconscious us sie appeared.

Still between them a great gulf appeared fixed, which
Bettina, with the dignityof true womlauhoed, would never
seek Lu cross. : +

The revelation which had come to her soul that bright
autduinal morning, bidding her acknowledge that man as
her kingy was fraught with grief aud humiliation, for her
innate delicacy furbade her to lharbor ® thought beyond
friendsliip fur one whem she knew would ere jong be thie
husbauadof another; but calling to heruid ali her strength,
thal great strengtit that had been born through affiicuon,
she brought her heart under subjection, aud patiently tried
to bear this cross too unto the feet of Lim who has said,
“Come ulilo me, ‘all yedlat ave weary aud heavy-laden.”

And so it was with & smile, the perfect caininess of
which betrayed no sign'of the conflict through which she
had passed, that she saw Doctor Ulin approaching her one
inoruing as she sab withultie Eddie inthe summer-house,
iroin which ihe roses and Jeaves had now fallen and the
sult, misty sunlight of autumn fell in long golden bars
ihrougiy tlie unwreathed lattice. ;

‘Beitind,” said he, standing before her, “I lave sought
you this morning to teil you of iny engagement. You may
possibly think ita strauge whim, but 1 preferred auuoune-
ing it loyou myseif”? ¥

lf it was because he feared her expressive face would
betray eniotion, or ler sweet Jip show some tremor, tle
fear was certainly removed as she quietly expressed lier
Wishes forhis happiuess: © luwardly stréngthenued to do so
by the conyiciiou that he wus thus assuring her of the
great barrier that existed between them. =~

“She has then, iudeed,” thougtt he, ‘forgotten the day
she wus crowned with bitter sweet, It has passed from
her mind as an idie or dooli-h thing, while with me the
inemory must remain ‘bitter sweet’ uly forevermore.”

Aud oh, the perversity of iuman nature! As imuch as he
would have grieved to wound Bettina, her apparent iudil-
ference piqued him keenly, almost angered him.

“Will you be married svvn ??? she asked.

“We have not yet decided upon the time.?

Then it suddenly flashed through her mind that his
reason for thus speaking to her night be to spare her of
the pain of being toid by another tuat sie must seek for
a new home.

The thought made her for the moment faint and giddy,
= it was only with an effort that she said in a husky
volees

arrangements Lo leave here 2”? :

“My marriage must Nut cause you to change your home,
Bettina,” he auswered, juan earnest voice, aud !ookip
siartied at the mention of her leaving. ;

Theu there fella loug silence batween them. A sudden
gustof wind lifted the dead iepies aud scattered thent
over Bettina where slie sat, thea! died awny, leaving the
stillness uubroken, Save by the grasshopper’s weak chirp,
as he rusiled through the dryerisp grass: We do’ not
ineasure time by liours ana days wheu ingrief. Into those
moments that sue sab With Jreg hauds clasped upon her
lap, gazing vacantly across tkef@flim fields were crowded
the desujation aud joneline ears, .

Shudderingly she Jisten r. Ullin’s receding, foot-
slepss ; : #4 ‘

lie liad gone without a
ing to liia any longer, Ye
nol give or receive love, 8!

Theu taking the child in
her heart with renewed de
lo keep the vows she had ngfie tor his sake.

From this time sue hear%but litde of the engagement.
Alter. Mrs. Ullin’s aud Esielle’s first expressions vf satis-
laction und pleasure, aid @rnelia’s of sorrowful regret,
Lhe subject wus rarely mentioned. in her preseuce.

Dy. Udin and Lissa were constautly together, wailking,

  
  
  
  
  
    
   
  
    
  

parting.- She was noth-
us better so, for she mest
L nol marry. .

aruis, she clasped him to
en, praying to be enabled

| driving or chatting gayly in some cosy nook. Bettina’s

very exislence seemed to lave passed from his memory
as he yleided himself to the isc lutions of the Jitlle syren,
who in the glory of her triumph appeared, to grow still
more beaulilul and bewitching.

 

CHAPTEK XIII.
THE TEMPEST.

Byer since Bet*ina jx become an inmate of Mrs,
Uliun’s family she had beeifpoustanut in her attendauce at
the village church. The riuge was always placed at
her disposal on such 0c is, even thougt no oue else
accompanied her. 1b wai om that Mrs. Ullin Jeft Oor-
nella for sucha jJength me, but since Estelle’s aud
Lissa’s arrival they liad Is goue wilh her, Sometimes
ultended by Dr. Uilin.

The Sabbath following

 
 
  
  
      
 
  
  
   
 

’s disclosure, the effects of
which hud been so obvi was a sad one to Bettina;
for, jeeliug Uiat she was noMonuger considered worthy ot
their regard, her heart rebelled at the thought of intrud-
ing her presence upon them, avd so giving a headache or
some ollier trivial excuse, she had absented herself from
each service since.

Until one Suuday morning, as she was looking with
longing eyes toward the lvile church, again made visible
by the jalien leaves, and sighing for Ue yunished > days of
peace aud contentinent that she had enjoyed’ during ‘the
tirst mouths of her stay iu this secluded place, she remem-
vered that it was the day for holy Communion, and with
sudden deteriminatton she resolyed to be no longer de-
varred such privileges. 4

Though the road which Jay through the woods was
longer than the carriage route, the distance could scarcely
be two miles. The sun was frequently obscured by clouds,
the air was fresh aud pleasaut, aud she thought the walk
would be enjoyable, aud might perliups. restore a more
cheeriul tone Lo her drooping spirits:

“You are ready early; Bettiha,*? suld Mrs. Uilin, meet-
ing her in the hall prepared to start, P

With a deep flush munuing her cheek, she replied,
ea

“| -Jutend walking to,churcl this moruing, Mrs. Ullin.’”

“You do but know what you ure undertaking, Cuiid; it
is entirely too far,” said Mrs. Ullin, with surprise.

“| am feeling quite strong and well, and often prefer
walking to riding.”

“As you wish, Bettina; but I hope you understand that
you are always welcome to ride.” gr

“Thank you, Mrs. Ullin,’? was the reply, as she bade
lei good morning.
; * * p 4 * * *
‘“Bssie,? said Lissa, as she stood before the mirror ad-
justing her long curls under her hat, **L wonder if Bettina
intends accompanying us to church this morning. 1
caught a glimpse of her awhile ago, aud she appeared
dressed to go vul.’?

“Or course she wills why net?’ answered: Essie from
the window, Where she had been wailing palienuy lor her
cuusin to Cumplete her toitet.

“On, nothing, only when I think of being brought into
such close proximity— and she finished the sentence
with avery Freuch shrug of the shoulders expressive of
intense disgust, \

“On, Lissa, I do not see how you can feel so. I can
only pity her and loye her still; wud) besides, I really be-
hevye that we sliall some day regret. our unjust sus-
picions,?? f

“Well, donot look so grieved, dear. But I must con-
fess that 1 un not anxious fur licr suciety,” was Lissa’
reply.

P Bat if Bettina's company is really so obnoxious to yo
I wil! go with her aud you can ebjoy Paul’s society alone,
whieh will uot be yery distastelul L-lancy,’? said Estelle,
ulleimpluing lo speak playfully though Veally feeling, much
nunoyed,

“QO, nol that would never do in the world, But here
is your mamma; sue Knows what is proper and w ub ur-
range laatlers,’?

“Bettina will ride with us as usual, will she not mam-
nuit’? asked Estelle. ‘

“No, dear, she las been gone some time,
walking this moruing.”?

“Bub why did sue prefer it?’ Estelle inquired, in an
aggrieved tone, ‘

Prom lothing that was said I assure you, my daugh-
ter, as I desired her to wait and go with you.”

“Oume, Essie—tue carriage Waits,” said Lissa, tripping
lightly duwu the sleps, lier face radiant Wilh smiles as sue
observed Doctor Uliin’s admiring glance,

lle seuted them in te carriage, tien, afier a moment's
hesitation, said’ é

“Will no one else accompany us to-day?”

“No, Mamuia will not leaye Corrie, and Bettina has
walked -to church this morning.”

. “walked!” he cjaculated, with a frown, but making no
farther Comment stepped into tle carriage aud closed the
dvuor, ‘
“Don't you think it too far for her to walk, brother?’
added Estelie, nixiously. aoe ;

Belore he cuuld reply Lissa interrupted:

“Pyor Essie 1s su distressed aboul Beitina, when, if the
truth was known, 8o far from treeding ourrcommisseration
stie is 0 doubl ab this moment eujoyiug a romantic tele-
a-tete with our pvuetical-looking youug niinister, Who
preached all lis seriuon to herthe last timeshe Was Lhere,
Ww we might judge from ‘the direction of his Janguid dark
eyes.)

Duetoe Vilin did not join in the laugh with which Lissa
closed her remarks, undiperceivibg she had somehow com-
miitied a biaader sie hastened ‘lo altempt repairing it by
udding? i ,

“Siranger things than ‘that have happened, Bettina is
undowbtedly ‘quite ‘pretty, and Mr. Garrard, p.tying her
lonelyonditton, besides aduuriug her, may marry her—
who ‘Knows ??

She preferred

 

“You uppeur to think Bettina‘could be-easily won,”” said
Bstelle, with warmth.

him captive by a thousand little arts.

“You will tell mein time, will you not, for me to make.

YORK WEEKLY.

  
    
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
 
      
       
  
    
      

| upon her troubled spirit,

i.

 

ee

2-2etheps > c
t=

 

 

“How very sensitive you are about Bettina, stelle,’ re-
plied Lissa, pettishly. i

Doctor Uliiws softened glance toward his sister warned
her that he did uot disapprove of the defense of her ab-
sent friend.

During this time the subjectof their remarks was slowly
wending her way toward Lhe little church. The walk

| through the woods among the rustling ieaves had been a

very pleasant one, aud had exercised a calming influence
The air was filled witn a spicy
ir peculiar to that season of the year, and a light breeze
den with moisture rendered it yet more refreshing.
The bell was ringing as she came near, aud she felt that
could join in the services with a quiet, peaceful heart
Hed with ‘love and charity toward all men.’? Quicken-
her Solaens as the tones of the organ fell upon her
she entered the door, when a new annoyance present-.
tself. She felt that she had no longer the same right
her accustomed seat with Mrs, Ullin’s family; it might
g ee to them, and it certainly was to her toim-
trude. ou + ;
Alter a. moment’s deliberation she teok a place she had
often been invited to fill in the choir, which wason the
opposite side of the church. ;

The solemn words, “Tie Lord is in His holy temple, let
all the earth keep silence before Hiin,’’ dispelled every
cloud of yexation, while the beautiful prayers seemed to
bear a new significance, and like balm to the wounded
heart came the fervent petition for those ‘afflicted or dis-
tressed in mind, body, or estate.??

Jn the meantime silks had rustled down the aisle, and
Without raising her eyes Bettina well knew where the
footsteps paused, and felt rather than saw the glance that
sought her, and then rested upon her face with an in-
quiring, displeased expression.

There were few in the congregation whose counten-
ances did not light up with pleasure as the unaccustomed
notes of the clear, sweet soprano chaunted the invitation:
«Oh come jet us sing unto the Lord,”

Doctor Ullin’s face Mushed; and when shading it with
his hand he did not again look toward her during the
singing, but with jealous eyes he watched the varying ex-
pression which told of her deep interest in the sermon,
Which was a sunple and earnest exhortation, and solemu-
ly responded to by more than one heart present.

After. the ordinary services had closed, a portion of the
congregation left,

While, waiting in the vestibule for the carriage Essie,
Who was standing near-the dogr, said in some alarm:

“There is surely going to be a hard storm, See what
heavy glouds! Paul, wa must wait for Bettina.’?

“No, i think you can reach home belore the rain if we
start immediately, and then I will return for her,’? an-
swered Doctor Ullin. ;

Lissa looked her dissatisfaction at the arrangement, and
would have ehjected had: uot the appearance of the ap-
proaching storm become so threatening, that terror jor
the tinie drove al! other fears from her mind, -

Not long afier their departure Bettina left the chureh.
Wer spirit. was too serene and .peucelul just then to be
troubled by ihe world’s conilicts, whether-outward or iu-
ward, aud unaware of the minister’s kindly eyes that
looked curiously after her, and then at the darkening sky,
as well asof tue nearness of the tempest ilself, she soon
reached Lhe wood, when suddenly she became Conscious
of the roaring of a mighty volume of wind fast approach-
ing, then there w«8 &® moaning and sobbiug among tile
trees around as though bewailing tueir impending fale,
and the next iustautit burst upon her.

linmeuse clouds of twigs and jJeayes were raised from
the ground and appeared threatening to enguip her with
a like fate to the bubes in the wood. Great trees bent,
swayed and creaked in the blast, while smaller oues were
toru up by the roots or splintered in their midst.

Blinded, terrified and bewildered, Beulina cluug for sup-
port to w large oak, behind which she had taken suclter
until the gust passed by, and even theu stunned by fright
she stood motionless until aroused to the peril of her
position by 2 sharp flash of lightning instantaneously fol-
lowed by a deafening crash of thunder.

Well knowing that.it.weould;be impossible for her to re-
turn Lo the church before tlie stora: would be upon her,
she started wilh uncertain steps to retrace her way, when
she suddenly recalled to her recollection an old log school-
house situated but a short distance from where she was,
whose dilapidated, neglected appearance had often at-
tracted her attention. With Lhe Lhought she immediately
turned her course and ran fleetly im that direction.

Ere she reached it Jarge drops of rain commenced to fall
heavily, Saturating her garments already torn and dis-
heveled by the wind. :

Breathless and exhausted, with trembling hands she
pushed open the door, which hanging upon one hinge
scraped along the fluor with a dismal sound.

The ulmospliere jn the Jong closed room was heavy with
daimpuess ard mold, cobwebs festooned the low ceiling,
aud the broken and defaced benches aud desks looked us
though the dust of ages had accunrulated upon them. On
the walls were some half-solved problems aud grotesque
caricatures drawn with charcoal. Upon the snnken
hearth crickets chirped merrily, cariug little for the
tumult without,

The room wus lighted but by two small windows, in each
a broken pane, through which the rain beat in heavily
upon the dusty floor, compelliug Bettina to take refuge in
tbe most obscure Corner.

The wind roared and ‘shrieked -throngh the rude fire-
place, bluwing down a portion of the already dilapidated
chimney, which fell with such @ crash that Jor awhile she’
thought the building itself wasinYuins, for the partial
darkness was relieved Only by vivid flashes of lightning,
while peal after peal of deafening thunder combined to
render the sceue terrible.

Deadly fear took possession of her at first when she
thought upon her isolated, Jouely condition, and the dan-
gers iv which she was exposed, but as the violence of the
teInpest abuted the obscurity passed away and objects
around her again became visible, aud soon her attention
was attracted by some names cut out he wooden door near
where slie Was sitting.’?

Guing closer she read:

“PAUL ULLIN. May 16, 184—. CORNELIA ULLIN. AR-
THUR WHITNEY.”

They were carved close together, and the three names
encircied by a wreath of oddly-shuped leaves, the whole
evidently the work of childish hands, :

“Here, then,’ she reflected, ‘were no doubt passed Doc-
tor Uilin’s and his sister’s first. school days, long years
ago, but whose was this third name—ARTHUR WHITNEY?
Some dear friend; perhaps, as their names were so closely
conuected.”?

A heavy step without ended Bettina's cogitations. The
door was pushed open, and there, drenched with the rain,
stvod the sleuder form of the minister.

(T0 BE CONTINUED)

—__—_—_>-2+____—_——

PLEASANT PARAGRAPiS.

{Most of our readers are undoubtedly capable of contributins; to
watd making this column an attractive feature of the New YORK
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rue It is not necessary that the articles should be penned in
scholarly style; so long as they are, pithy, and likely toatford
almuselment, minor defects will be remedied. }

The Flying Cats.

Sam Udell detested cuts, uud thereby hangs a tale—ay,
several tails!

At the ume of which we write, Sam was the foreman of
the press-room Nv, 59 Anu street, in this city. He was not
& limid mau, yel the unexpected sight of a cut, in the dark,
if close by, always frightened him, Aware of his timidity
in this Yespect, the press-ruom boys, chief among whom
was Joe Weston, prepared lo give-lim a grand scare.

They caught and cunfiued about sevenly cats, most of
which belonged to the. boarding-houses in the Second
Ward, Winch then contained many dwellings that have
since been converted into-stores and manufuctories, . The
cats Were secured in barrels, and one Saturday night,
atter Sam bad deft, the animals were releused Irom the
barrels, it press-room, door, and allowed free
range of L 0 food was given tothem, that they
might be er condition to give Sami an aifec-
Hut ae ere they were confined until the fol-
lowing Mo

,

 

 

    
  
 
    
   
 

 

      
  
 
   
 
   
   
   
  
  
   

»ptio

ay.
A ‘ day Sam arrived at the press-room, and
ved lo nole that nove of the boys had yet
e@ Within view of the place, however, al-
from Sam, as they desired him to be
he expected catastrophe.
“the key at the place it was usually left,
or, and stepped in. A spring attached to
dit wilh a bang as Sam. took his hand
b, aud he was il the dark, for the Irickslers
had ck all the shutters,

Wien the door was opened the cats suddenly rushed
toward the light thus adinitled; and reached the spot just
us the spring closed the dvor, This all occurred so rapid-
ly that Sam was both inysufied aud terrified.

“Pit! meow! phitl meow!l?

These were the sounds, muitiplied a thousand times,
by the vocal organs of seventy. hungry and savage cats,
which terrified Sam_as he realized that the animals, or
smany of them, had got between him aud his only hope of
escape—the door,

“Phit! meow! phit! meow! came ina startling chorus,
while Uiey Jeaped ‘trom the presses, shelves aud tables,
striking his head and shoulders as they bounded about
his quaking fourm.

“Good gracious!’ he exclaimed, AmI
in a menagerie of wild beast?”?

In the dark nothing but their glaring eyeballs could be
seen; yet he heard und felt the avimals bounding over
and about him as if sustained by wings in their hurried
fliglits through the air, They leaped from piles of paper,
from tables, from the feedvourds of the presses, and hur-
tied through the atinosphere like shooting stars, their
eyes glittering like balls of fire, ‘

Such a pyrotechnical’ display Sam had never witness-
ed, and it was the more appalling’ asa continuous meow-
ing accompanied the movements of the flying cats.

He struck right and left at his invisible foes, in the vain
effort to bent them off, atid stamped about the floor like»
madman, treading on cats with every step.

Above, below, around and beneath him were cats—
nothing but cais They were Jeaping over his head, strik-
ing hun in the fuce, passing between his legs; and as his
boot came down with force on the body of one, he quick«
ly moved it, only, to Gud that no matter whiere he stepped,
hie was sure fo tread upon a cat,

Tle started for the door, but, in the dark, fell overa pile
of paper, and tumbled among a score of the meowing aui-
mals, j

Ile struggled to arise, and the cats endeavored to escape
from Nini—at least suéh of them as he fell upon. Sam
was 100 frightened to fight; yet, he ‘came to the seratel??

‘yhat’s this?

 

nore promptly than he wished, The cats drew their claws

 aanEEREREehemmmaniest oeseetiner een -

across his face and limbs several times before he conlé
Bebe. every stroke streaking his cheek and brow like g
zebra.

When he did regain his feet, the cold. perspiraticn of
terror oozed from him. As he guzed aronnd, he could
see glaring balls of fire in every direction, while the fear-
fui chorus still continued.

“Firel murder!’ he yelled, rushing hither aad thither,
unaware in which direction he was moving, yet painfully
conscious that no matter which way he tarned, he was
Surrounded by hungry cats. Of course, they did not de-
Sire toeat or harm him, but they evidently thought thas
he might have come for the purpose of feeding them.

In his fright, 80 persistently did they surround him an@
pee him, Sam fancied that they really intended to eat

im

At last he reached the door, opened it, and leaped into.
the street, followed. by a duzen cats. The others re--
mained in the press-room, as the spring closed the door,
as before. : :

“Why, what's the matter, Sam??? asked Joe Weston,
as he and his fellow-conspirators came up. “You look a
little excited.”

“Excited!’? echoed Sam, “I think I onght to be. l’yve
been attacked by a million of cats, and they’ve all got
wings. Look at my torn clothes! behold my scratched
face and hands! Call the police! alarm the fire depart-
ment! Summon the military! read tne riot act! Get a
barrel of gunpowder and blow up the building, for in
no other way can you exterminate the cats that I’ve
been fighting with for the last half hour.”

Sam was so excited that his speech indicated the symp-
toms of lunacy. e

“Cats in the press-room !’? exclaimed Joe Weston, with
well-feigned astonishment. ‘How the duse did they ges
in there??? : ;

“Don’task me,’? answered Sam. “Tt must be a con-
gress of cais—an armyirom the infernal regions. I never
saw so many in my life before,. They're every where—the
air is thick with tuem—every corner ofjlie reom is filled
with them. Goin the press-room and see for yourself;
there’s million’s in it!”

The press-roon boys smiled, and Joe Weston opened
the door. in three minutes Ann street, between Nassau
and William, had a larger gathering of cats than wus ever
seen there before or since. They soon scattered, however,
being urged toa hasty retreat by every sort of missile,
propelled at them by the press-room boys.

When the press-room was freed from all the cats that
could be seen, Sam at. last gained courage to return.
Shortly afterward Joe Weston discovered a cat coucealed
in a cylinder of one the presses.

“There’s one of them!’ shouted Joe. © “Sam, don’t you
see his tail sticking out? Grabit, while Il hoid him fast
by pressing this irom side-stick On his back.”

Sum grabbed the tail, which hung beyond the end of
the cylinder. “As his fingers closed on the tail, Joe Weston
pressed the side-stick ou the cat's back. x

“Dil revenge all imy ill-luck on this fellow,’? shouted
Sam, pulling the. tail, in the effort to drag the cat from
the cylinder. ;

Joe must have pressed too yigorously on the‘cat’s baek,
for at that instant the cat——

Well, Sam thoughtthe nnimal had exploded!

He quickly released the cat’s tail, and, rubbing his
eyes, randoward ihe water-trough to wash his face ang
change his shirt.

This was the worst treatment Sam had received in the
adventure, andit was doubly unpleasant because the
press-room boys, instead of sympathizing with him, only
laughed at him, and told jim that he had pot exhibited
much bravery in his contest with the flying cats. ARANDA

 

Repariee.

In the year 1586, the young constableof Castile was
sent by the sovereign to felicitate Pope Sxtus Y. on his
exaltation to the papalthrone. The Pontid, displeased
that so young an ambassador had been deputed to him,
could not help saying: ‘And, well, sir, did your master
want men, that he sent me an ambassador without a
beard??? “If my sovereigu had thought,” replied the
proud young Spaniard, “that merit consisted in a beara,
he would have sent you a buck-godt,and not a geullemanl?

 

A Disappointed Traveler.

A well-dressed.man called at a Lebanon, N. UL, grocery,
afew days ago, and asked for a hotel The proprietor
pointed him to a hotel over the way, whither the stranger
went, but presently came away with a disappointed look.
After visiting two er three other places, he came back and
asked if there was not some placein town where he couid
“get something.”

“No,’? said Ue storekeeper, “they don’t allow it sold in
thistown. There aremen constantiy on the watch, ready
to prosecute every man who sells,?? :

Such a look of astonishment as the stranger gaye, the
grocer could not understand. Finally he asked: :

‘‘Ain’t there a place where I can get some cider ?
that will do better than nothing.”

“No,” said our grocer, ‘we don’t allow even cider sola
lere.

Our unknown friend raised his hands in holy horror
and exclaimed: ,

“Great Heaven, I thought New Ilampshire went Demo-
cratic this year!”

Even

Ducking the Wrong Party.

Some boys, knowing that Mrs. Ella Somers, of Warren
street, Newark, was out on Saturday afternoon, sought to
annoy the servant by ringing the door bell and hiding.
Having been called tothe door four or five times the ser-
vant filed a large pitcher with water and stationed here
self at a window over the door, Soon the beli was rung
again. Up flew the window, and the water descended
upon Mrs. Somers, who had just returned with a new $2
winter hat and afine velvet cloak. Not many seconds
after this event the servant suddenly appeared in the
street aud a valise flew out of the door after her.

How the News Affected Wim.

Spriggins was sitting before the fire in the library When
the telegram Came announcing the sudden death of his
}mother-in-law. 1t was five o’clock in the afternoon, and
Mrs. Spriggins was out visiting. We sat still a moment
with his hands clasped tightly together as if in prayer.
Suddenly he jumped up, seized his hat and rushed to the
nearest telegraph office. He sent a message to Boston
(where the mother-in-law resided) and waited in the office
foran answer. In half an hour the machine on the tavle
went click, clack, clack, click. ‘Never mind writing it
out,’ said Spriggins tothe operator; “read it aloud if itis
for me.’? And the operator read slowly; ‘No, there is.
no mistake, To-day atone. Laid out. Funeral Friday.’?
Mr. Spriggins ran home like a deer. His wife hadreturn-
ed and was in the parlor. ‘Janel? screamed Spriggins,
now strangely exciled; ‘Jane, hoo-ray, good news, Jane
your mother is dead!’? and he began, all by himself, in the
center of the room, the juvenile game and chorus, begin-~
ping: “Now we go round the mulberry bush, the mulber-
ry bush,’? etc,

Knew Little of Blug®

The ministers had informed his hearers that they could:
not expect to win ‘‘the heayenly stake with four aces-of
faith, hope, charity, and virtue, while the Lore. héld:2
flush——.’? He got no further in his figure of speech, fox
at this instant there was a hubbub in the main aisle, and
as ihe preacher descended with frightfal velocity from
the puipit, and disappeared through the back door just
ahead of anumber twelve boot, the voice of the mest
prominent deacon was heard toexclaim: “Wedowt want
no snoozer of a preacher what don’t know as four aces
beat a plain fush,’?

An Interesting Family.

“Boy,’? said a traveler to a disobedient youth whom he
encountered, ‘don’t you hear your father speaking to
you???

“Oh, y-a-a-s,’? replied the youth, ‘but I don’t mind
what he suys. Mother don’t, neither, and ’twixt she aud
1, we’ye about got the dog so he don’t,”

Deceiving the Darkies.

An orator at a colored Democratic jollification in Opeli-
ka, Ala., illustrated the amountof plunder that the “rads’?
give tieir colored voters by telling this story:

“Sum aud Juck went ’possunin huting, and caught 2
little possum. ‘They put the yarmint on to cook. Jack
went 1o sleep, and Sam, smelling how good the little ’pos-
suin was, couceived the idea of irying Nitin, A taste did
liot suffice; he by degrees ate the whole animal, Now he
was troubled about Jock. A bright thought came. He
greased Jack’s mouth and hands, and hid the bones by
nis side. When Jack awoke he smelled ’possum strong,
but he saw none in the pot. ‘Look yer, Sam, whur’s das
‘possum ?? ‘Go off | you eat him up, Jack. Look at your
hands and mouth, and see dem bones.’ ‘Well, Sam, ef &
eat dot possum he fills less space dan any ’possum eber
seed!’ Yes, the politicians. eat the ’possum and grease
the mouths of the poor negroes,”? ;

Brevities.

A LADY went into a carpet store recently, and pointing
out a curpet, asked the proprietor What it was, ‘“Brus-
sels,’? says the proprietor, ‘‘Brussels?? quoth the lady,
passing her hand over it, ‘Seems. to me the. brustles.
dou’t stick up much."?

Don't throw dust in your teacher’s eyes.
injure the pupil.

NEVER attempt to form an opinion of a woman's weight
by her sighs.

A YOUNG bride, who had been fashionably educated,
was asked by her fond husband to-attend tothe ordering
of the dinner, as he shouldn’t have time to go to market.
it is a fact that she blandly requested the butcher to send
home ‘ta leg of tongue, seventeen pounds of steak, and
two halibut.’”

MINISTERS of the Interior—The cook and the doctor.

THE new winter hats for the ladies are already felt.

WHEN a German saloon-keeper wishes to clear his place
for the night, he merely lifts the lid-of his cheese-box,

AN Ohio girl who tried to describe a lump of coal weigh-
ing five hundred pounds, said: ‘It’s. as big as mother’s
overshoes,’?

AN Indiana man bet $10 that he could ride the fly-wheel
of a saw-mill, aud as his widow paid the bet, she re-
marked: “William was a kind husband, but he didn’é
know much about fly-wheels,?’

Ice—Water that went out In the cold and went to sleep.

DocTors now claim that it is healthy to cat two whole
miuce. pies and a hunk of cold beef just. before going to
bed, They know how to get practice,

It will only

 

°
To P. P. ConTRIBUTORS.—Step.—In next issue of the Phunay

Out,” “Sad’ Reflections on the Mule,” “Endorsed,” ‘A Cross
Eyed Girl,’? “Sam Jones’s Bottle.”.......... The following are ree
ppectfully declined: “The Successful Lover,” “A Perplexed Mor>
mon,” “Bammy’s Mishaps,” “A Hungry Traveler.” 9 __ ~d

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

Pheow......The following MSS. are accepted: cs ae Them.

 

 

 

- pate

na

 
 

~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

MAGDALENA DOLOROSA.

BY MICHAEL SCANLAN.

 

Crouching under the roof,
Staring thro’ attic bars,

Like the eyes of angered saints
Fiercely flash the stars:

Dread Heaven look kindlier down,
For, oh, it is fearful to be

Thus flung aloft from the earth,
And yet be no nearer thee!

Shrilly screams the wind—
W-h-o-o—how it triumphs or grieves!—
Flapping its chilling wings
Against the frowning eaves;
Temper your hate, oh night,
For the fire burns dim and low,
While the grander fires of the heart
Are burned out long ago,

Charmed by the spirit of ice,

And chilled to a dreamy swoon,
A waste of skeleton walls

Lit by a specter moon;
The shadows of loathsome things
nbtor Crouched and huddled about—
wis Aud enough of life to know

: The world throbs wild without.

The sensesrfail, and life
Like a drunkard flies and reels

As the subtle serpent of ice

etd Toward the heart-citadel steals;

The ctruggling sight grows dim,

Defining the timid breath,
’ And silence crawls in the crispy air

Can it be sleep or death ?

Rather than light without heat,
Rather than loveless life,
The shapeless gloom of the grave,
Barred out from light and strife;
But, oh, to be buried and stare
Thus open-eyed thro’ these bars,
And this death in life illumed
By the light of lifeless stars!

Oh, for the eyes that flashed
Bright as those stars above,
Whose radiance shone redeemed
And warmed by the fires of love=
Eyes whose remembered light
Mellows the waste of years,
And draws from the embered heart
The tribute of gracious tears.
Led by those magic eyes,
How memories troop in crowdal
Oh! children of sunny glades
What do ye ’mong coffins and shrouds ?
You flatter the high, cold stars
To kindlier looks, and it seems
The winds breathe faintly of flowers
And sigh like the voice of streams.

On the giddy steep of youth,
Waylaid by the devil’s choir,
‘That lulls the angels to sleep,
But lashes the blood on fire
’ *Till the passions riot and reelf—
And then, for that one sad fall,
To be shut forever out
From heart, from home, from all!

Oh! sure the door of the heart
Should open inward as out,
For angels slumber within,
et But devils are roaming without:
7 One pitying look of love, \
One smile and I never had crost
The burning wastes of sin,
Where souls are parched and lost.

That I should sit, for a sin,
Like a leper at Love's gate,
Sit and crouch in the shade—
Is love but a mask for hate t
Lairing with leprous things
When I should reign in his hallt
Slave unto slaves, when I
i Should have vassals at beck aad callt

Was it the fevered brain,
Delirium tortured and torn, °
. Stretching a night into life ?
Is this the redeeming morn ?
Have I but dreamed those mad nights,
And shame-faced, crime-haunted days t
Have my weary feet never strayed,
Nor trodden those nameless ways ?

O love! tho’ your kisses are warm
Of an hour ago on my lips,
My soul has been shrouded, in dreams,
From your light in a life eclipse;
Let me lie for a life in your arms,
Lie on your heart and weep,
For I have dreamed torturing dreams,
And long fora sinless sleep.
If I have dreamed, dear love,
_ Let my tears be kissed by thee;
But if I have sinned, O, God, -
Let these tears plead mercy for me:
Thus if ’tis sleep let me wake
In thine arms, near thy heart, my love;
But if it is death, O, God!
Let me wake by his side above.

- CHASED BY COMANCHES.

BY LIEUTENANT MURRAY.

 

 

 

I had been stopping at Fort Brett for some weeks, and
Was weary with trying to subsist upon dried meats and a
poor supply of vegetables, varied by the never-failing
article of bacon sides, when one day Captain Gregg, of
the Second Cavalry, said if I would join him he woulda
try to get some antelope meat, just to keep off the scurvy
if nothing else. —

“You are a good shot, Murray,’ said he, ‘and they give
me any amount of credit in the same line, so I think,
with a couple of good horses, and a third to varry our
kit, we can Keep Off the Indians, or if they prove to be
in too large numbers, we can at least outmaneuyer them
and run away.’”

“Very well,’ said I, ‘anything for a change;’’ andso our
preparations were duly made, and we Careiully got our
Spencer rifles in tip-top erder, and reloaded our revolvers
all round. The captain took his own horse for the ex-
cursion, but I was supplied with one belonging to the
fort. Both were good, sturdy animals and in fine condi-
MOUS. ss apie: 8. arith). ‘
We resolved to start out that very evening and make
our way tothe Litule Blue, a river which lay about
nime miles from the fort. This late start in the day was
designed to carry us to the river that night, where we
would encamp in the cottonwood, which always skirts
the, river beds on the plains, and there be. ready for our
search after antelope at the first dawn of day, when our
herses would also be fresh, aud we nearer tlie feeding-
ground of the game.

We rode along very quietly, with our lead. horse at-
tached to a rope and tied to the captain’s saddle, with-
out. any fear of Indians, for the redskins do not choose
the night for attack, rarely starting upon any enterprise
except with daylight to favor them. ‘he favorite hour,
as all frontiersmen know, for attacking a train or for as-
sailing traveiers, is just atdawn of{day. TheIndians have
also a dread of fighting by moonlight—indeed, they. seem
to entertain some supersiitious fear upon the matter, and
are rarely found abroad on their marauding parties until
after daylight breaks in the east.

Being weil aware of this we had no fears of annoyance
from that quarter, and so rode leisurely along to our
camping-ground at the head-waters of the Litule Blue. A
couple of hours brougiit us to our cottonwood shelter,
where we tethered the animals, and with our buffalo
robes and saddle blankets made a comfortable bed for the
night. Having taken supper before we started we had no
occasion for a fire, but smoked our pipes and talked our-
selves to sleep.

After a capital night’s rest we got a hot cup of coffee and
ate our Chipped dried beef and crackers with arelish, and
were soon packed up for a search after antelope. Just as
the day commenced to dawn a sinall herd was discovered
on a rising piece of ground, not far away, and by. keeping
under cover of the cottonwood, we came finally close
enough to get a shot at them unperceived. We fired our
rifles.so nearly together that both got a good shot before
the herd took the alarm. The captain brought his animal
to the earth, while I, having hit a less vital part, saw my
game, though severely wounded, yet hobbie off with the
herd, stopping every now and then as though he would
drop: We dashed at once after the flying animals, and
got one more shot each before the swilt-footed creatures
were out of range. This time it was my luck to bring
downa fine buck, and the captain’s shot had only wounded
his game severely.

There are few horses fleet enough to ran down antelope,
and we soon gave over the chase, as we saw that the
wounded aniinais had sunk to the ground. A vital thrust
of our hunting knives soon finished these, and placing
them on our horses, we walked back toward the cotton
belt where we had left our pack-horse. We also gathered
up the other two antelopes, and felt rather proud of our
success at having secured four fat animals before nine
o’clock in the morning.

We securely packed our game upon the horse which had
been brouglit for the purpose, made all secure, and deter-
mined that we would now start back tothe fort. -So
giving our horses a nose-bag each, witl a couple of quarts
of corn, we boiled another cup of coffee for ourselves, and
after refreshing man and beast, removed our charges in

 

the Spencer rifles, each carrying seven cartridges, and
were ready to start for Fort Brett. It was now fully ten

"| o'clock, and we calculated to reach the fort in a couple of

hours, Just then thé captain said in alow voice:

“Look at that bluff where we got the antelopes.”’

“More game?” said [. %

‘Not the same sort,’ he said, dryly.

Looking in the direction indicated I saw eightor ten
Indians, blazing in their war-paint and tawdry ornaments.
We knew that the Comanches were lurking about the
vicinity, and it was easy for the captain to make them
out as belonging to that tribe through his pocket fie!d-

“Ten to two is rather strong odds,” saidimy companion
“and we must make up for it by taking the initiative an
crippling the enemy to begin with.” ii we

The squad of redskins had doubtless seen the frighten
herd of antelopes, and shrewdly guessed that they w
flying from hunters. They found our trail and had followe
it to the brow of the hill, where they now paused, sittin
upon their ponies and looking toward the wood which
screened us. , :

They were hesitating whether to come boldly down, or |

to adopt some stratagem to draw us out of the wood.

They knew our number as wellas if they had seen us.

cea could read our trail as easily as we could an open
a '

“Murray,” said the captain, ‘‘we must disable two of
those fellows, and that will give them a check. We must
then dash off and make the best headway we can with
this pack mule, turning when necessary to give them
another shot. Let us take good aim tlirough these bashes;
we Can’t afford to loose a single shot. You cover the big
fellow on the extreme right and [ will take the one on the
oa left, so we shan’t waste two slots on one red-
skin, 22th

We both fired nearly simultaneously, the captain’s man
tumbling from his horse, while the fellow at. whom I had
aimed had his horse roll from under him with a bullet
through his. flank. SPARE, A Aipbeth

“One Indian and one pony. Well, they cannot do any-
thing without their horses,” said the captain, ‘‘Lhough I'd
rather kill an Indian than a horse any day.’ Your shot
musi have wounded the big fetlow’s leg, as they are bind-
ing it up for him while they move along.”’

he redskins picked up their fallen conirade, and alto-
gether disappeared out of our range, beyond the rising
ground. ow was our Chance, and we dashed out of the
wooed with our faces turned toward Fort Brett, hurrying
our horses to as good time as we could induce the
heavily-loaded pack-animal tomake. Of course, we knew
that the Comanches would soon be alter us, and before
we had made a mile toward the fort, we descried geven
of the fellows pursuing us. One had been disabled, one
killed, and a third had been despatched with these to seek
their distant camp. Seven were left to pursue us. Their
plan was to cut us off from the fort, that was plain
enough, but they feared to come within range of our
Spencers, as they had realized already that we knew how
to use them.

There were but two of the Indians armed with rifies,
the rest had bows and arrows, the latter weapon, how-
ever, within certaln range, was nearly as efficacious.
The two riflemen now sent us their compliments, but,
though we heard the bullets whistle past us, no harm
was done. The captain, being the best marksman, said
he wouid face about, and take a shot at them, while I
hurried on with the pack-animal. eb

The moment they saw him turn, they stopped their pur-
suit, but his aim was quick, and followed instantly by
the discharge of his weapon. Another of the redskins
was severely wounded, as we could see by the commo-
tion among them, and soon after the captain had join-
ed me, we saw that tlhe wounded Indian was slowly
making his way to the rear, but still mounted on his
pony. Bt

There were six of them left. The two rifles were
again discharged at us, and this time with more preci-
sion, as the blood flowed down my horses’ fore leg from
a slight’ flesh wound, not sufficient, however, to seriously
annoy. him. This time I turned, and the captain hurried
on with the pack-horse,

It is surprising how quickly one gets accustomed to
the exigences of froutier life. I felt as quiet and sure
of my aim, when I drew the trigger of my rifle at that
moment, as I had when shootiug that fat buck a few
hours before, but at the same instant that I saw the
redskin whom I had fired at fall from his horse, I felt
@ sharp spasm in my left arm, and’ Knew that I also
was hit.

“Only five leftt” I remarked as I hastened after the
weet ‘and the Indians stopped to look after their
comrade, ‘ Se ai Ee

I said nothing about my left arm, but, swinging ity} ~
rifle by the strap, took the ed my p
we hastened forward. The best peed we | m sl

of the loaded pack-horse was @ very ordinary trot, but
yet we had done pretty well thus far, and had got near-
ly half way from the Little Blue to the fort.

The indians began to realize that they were playing
a@ loosing game, and we thought as they paused this
time so much longer than they had done before, that
we might possibly be rid of them. We were mistaken,
for, maddened by their serious, loss, the five rascals who
were left made a savage dash to head us off from the
course we were pursuing. : :

“This means business,” said the captain; “we must
fight now, sure, and at close quarters, I think’

The Indian J had sliot last was one who Carried a rifle,
but another had taken the weapon, and this fellow chose
the captain’s liorse as a larger and surer mark, and put a
ball through the animal’s throat, which caused him to
drop dead in a few moments. Thrusting the Ralster-Dis-
tols in his belt, Capt. Gregg was forced to leave nis favor-
ite charger lying upon the plain, and seizing the pack-
horse by the bit, he now devoted himself to hurrying him
forward while he walked by his side.

The Comanciies were now drawing so near that their
arrows began to whistle about us, and the captain got a
severe wound in the shoulder with one. He was stung
to anger by the injury, aud handing me the bridle of the
pack-lorse for a moment, he swung his rifle from his
back, and instantly lay the redskin who was nearest to us.
dead upon the ground, undoubtedly the one who sent
the arrow.

Another pause among them. We had been tarned but
little out of our regular course, and were making good
headway; the fort could not now be more than three
miles distant. hy oe : i

“They are coming on again,’ said Captain Gregg; “four
this time, and they are desperate. Dismount, Murray;
they will shoot you through and. througiy if you don’t.
Get your horse between you and them, and biaze away.
I will follow suit.’! f

I did as desired, and resting the barrel of my Spencer
over the saddle of the horse, for my left arm had grown
quite numb and useless, I got a pretty fair shot at one of
the redskius, but soon after found that it was his horse I
had wounded, and left the rider upon his feet. The cap-
tain drew blood from another, as well as from the horse
he was riding. | ¢ Bie: 5

“The fellows are determined to kill us, or to be killed,
it seems,’’. said my companion, dropping more charges
into the butt of his Spencer, and making a shelter of the
pack-horse. ;

Tne animal I had just dismounted from had received a
bullet and two arrows during this last charge of the ri-
ders, aud could now fiardly put one foot before the other.
We both fired again, and another horse dropped, ‘for the
Indians, dismounting, used them as a shelter from our
shot.

‘Revolvers, how!’ said Captain Gregg, as three of the
redskins seemed to jump right onto the muzzles of our
pistols. But two came to certain death, and fell almost
on top of us as we Kuelt beside my horse, which now lay
dying on the ground. .

Both the captain and myself had got severe wounds
from the Comauches’ knives as they fell—he in oie
hand, Tin the right side. We were ali dazed for o mo-
ment. The last living one of the Indians was first to re
cover himself, though severely wounded, and true
instinct, seized the bridle of the pack-horse to hurr
away; but a slot from the captain’s revolver pierced
arm, and he dropped the rein. a

We were scarcely capable of defen )
wounded as we were, but I managed to
him with my revolver, although wit
enough to pull the trigger. He jumpe ;
avoid the bullet, and started for his lile the ran,
wounded as lie was, with the speed of an antelope. Th
captain, weak from the loss of blood, still man .
and fire a shot from his Spencer after him;
served to increase his speed;’ the ball did n

“Hark! there is a bugle’ note! Thank
troops have heard our shots; they are co
Ah, yes! here they come over this swell of
we were soon surrounded:by our friends, °

Tie two horses were lost; but, strange to say,
animal was unharmed, his load in a great me
tecting him; so he carried our four antelopes into the fort
in triumplt, where our wounds were soon dressed, and
we told our story to the curious listeners, amid hearty
congratulations,

I had been in Indian fights before, but the severest one
was this when we were Chased by the Comanches,

   
  
   
 
  
 
 
   
     
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
  

H
ec

ITEMS OF INTEREST.

kar A magnificent necklace and ear-drops of dia-
mounds were received on the 27th of February at the Custom-
honse, in this city, for’ delivery to Mrs. Lieutenant Thomas W.
Fitch nee Miss Minnie Sherman. aney were sent by the Khedive
ot Egypt as a wedding present to the daughter of Gen. Sherman,
in token of his eee ation of the advice concerning the reor-
ganization aud discipline of officers tor his army given by the
general during his visit to Cairo in 1873.. The nec is a per-
fect mass of large diamonds, artistically strung, and with still
larger diamonds hanging down at intervals in the form of pend-
ants, The ear-riugs ure composed of a number of the larger-sized
diamonds arranged to match the necklace. Both are contained
in a superb jewel case of velvet and are accompanied by a con-

itulatory letter from the Khedive. Congress by a jotat reso-
lution authorized Lieutenant Fitch to receive the present, which
is valued at over a quarter of a million of dollars,

aa The Capitol of the United States holds a place
- Ont at sue Site Sxonters onlcceyeres /eeee % the Christian
e m ts. a com Ww ‘eter’s st
Paul's is untavoraite to it, and in ot ers unfavorable To, Fo
In purity of style the newer portions of the building are unsur-
by’any Grecian temple. Most critics say that, with all its

ed OY an} 10
architectaral faults, iis, as a whole, the most beautiful and im-
pressive structure in the world.

_ Sa The fashionable boots now worn by the Pari-
sian ladies are made of morocco, with kid tops, high heels, thick
soles, and buttons on both sides of the ankles. In this country
a. will look at a boot with a sole thicker than brewn

aper.

ag In the London directory, just issued, Smith
occupies nineteen Columns; Jones, 9; Brown, 8; Williams, 6 1-2;
Jolinson, 5 1-2; Clark, Davis, and White, 5; Wood and Harris,
41-2; Evans, Green, Roberts, and Robinson, 4.

 

—

Tue JOSH BILLINGS SPICE-BOX.

On the Haff Shell.
It aint every one that knows enuff to stop when they
git thro. *

  
 
  
 
  
  
   

to be mistaken, not so long az we are
alter a habit az it iz to change the

iz tears, and they are allways
theze fail then cums despera-

ust customer the Devil haz to deal

 

   
   
     
  
   
 
   

at ‘o'p
‘ rte
gument avor of e immortality ov the soul,
as ate L .’ fas: Worcy t

rience haz been praized more, and listened to less,
other thing that i Kan think ov now.
sum wisdum in ing after all, for it iz the
at yu kan cum to menny things in thislife. — .
ce iz like the best medicine we hav,' the most

Weke. | a. ;
kno yureself, sea others too, iz the hight oy human

that a man Kan be councilled oy-hiz
e iz hope for him. i
, and a for the past, forms a
wor phi phy. : :

at man haz got old enuff to travel a
g gait on hiz nee, death in on the shoul-
der and requests & ‘interview with him on important

   

biggneas.: seh Lots jos | ;

Good and evil are allways paid off, sumtimes immedi-
gal. and anasibeas not untill after they hay run at inter-
e a : _* 4

aspell. fat ou.)
Habits are often az ridikilous az they are stro yu
often see folks who Kant pick up a pair ov tongs, ut
spitting on their hands fust. .

Vary arore minds are seldum fuliy appreshiated bi the
me eazier to git a friend than to Keep one.

Politeness makes all the other ackomplishments eazy
and agreeable. ?

If yu don’t respekt yureself, how kan yu expekt others’
to do it for yu. ; °

It iz very hard to lose Ova poor relashun, but we
often hay to hunt up our ritch ones.

Sudden welth seldum kums bi honesty.
’ He who kan whissell one tune need never be entirely
onesum. tab

The strongest friendships i hav ever notissed, hav been
between thoze who thought differently, but akted alike.

It iz mighty onsertfoa what a lazy boy, ora yung snaik,
will amount to. _ ARE

os who iz afraid ov work iz a koward in every thing
else. ay! eT ie
If yu are anxious to bekum famous, yu must be will-
ing to be abuzed. 8 {

es are not the only things that cum home to roost, all

evil things do. ¥ i

The experience ov life haz taught me that thare iz more
happiness amung the lowly than the
A Honesty once lost may be recovered, but modesty never

an. : lb 134
Time is a grate physician, it kures broken hartes, broken
and even broken crockery. » £i7
hav allwuss sed, and I slik to it yet, that he who re-
pents ov a ain, iz a stronger and a safer man than he who
dont commit it. . iy Piss oft |
The slowest time on rekord iz skool time, ‘and the fast-

est iz sparkling time. : 3
The man who iz aliwuss prepared for good or bad luk,
and treats them both alike, iz bT.55

I beleave all thoze who hay
enemys oy mankind, hav died'a violent deth; .
Take away the fear ov the law, and J. had rather

sy 1

He who fotgiys another, forgiv » for We are all
ov_us gilty Vaboariitopnet aioe a Pee toe =
The obllaasy hotles ov menuy an old man, iz only this:
‘Gols Doe, died, Wenewiek ty: thie ae rae neeak

tys' are 8 in tie » jak at a
Jali over him, | keto ties

 
  

peciali
trades iz like @ man with figas
with the fleas to do enny tiling well, BATE
ie — ~ see grate eninge pialuty, eonee ope
ether, forhe who sees grate thin, nly, iz often ap
to see little things dimly. ag Tu te EON ra me
The fearovthe rod iz more (powerpull than the use

ov. it.
Truth iz simple—so simp the phoolish often mis.

pitts

 
  

take it for weakness.
“Happy a RAT

cond git
for menny ov tid
el Fata wand tea’

 
   
    
   

  
 
  
 

   

Dont antisipate trabbies; if we will only wait until they
dodge ue ge hat oF them, and ths olver tat may
‘Yu kan sett 8titand gro wicked, but it yu expekt to
erg Mtewans You lay EA WH Panne ee

ip and tea go er, and are the pekuliar privi-
lege ov harmless old wimmin who hav got’ past doing

Wet isd

 
   
 

mers oe gene e ore eee deste
‘The en av bat fu laws; but they execute them
every time. oS See ae a
— Phare iz & thing az 0 aktive in ness;'| t
thare iz a cer ‘Kind ov lazy that often the
pest, josrts & i Bite. yi! > PPMBISLALY'S

 

‘The st kind ov’ servitu
thoze whom we kant help bat

Diffikuitys are like spook
down they don’t amount to m

Bold men are geuerally des
allwuss weak. |

  
     
  

   
     
 

; and timid ones are
I never hav cum akrost a et so modest who didn’t
think he waz entitied to all the%ame he posSesst, and, if’
ennything, a little more. tat, :
Thare are but {a people who ever git ritch enuff to en-
joy their welth. OS ) PYG
All the beasts oy the dessart, and ajl the snaiks Ov the
fields, are born free and equal, and it did allways seem a’
little funny to me that. man should not be the same,
Thare iz nothing more skarse ‘than. originality, and
thare iz nothing that each person thinks iz so plenty.’
Common (iam not acquainted with tie person
individually) iz one ov the gratest liars the world haz’ever
produced, and yet Common Report -haz been Known to
tell the truth when it could not be got at in enny other
way. ps7: ae i 4
Ifa man sukceeds yu kan find hundreds ov people who
predikted-it, and if he fails, the same ones predikted that,

too. ' sb;

Nature haz given birth to more horrid monsters ov
men than she ever haz ov beasts or reptiles,

I hav seen people whom i thought were alitogether too |
pious to be ‘happy, or to let other folks be.

Luv would be a very tame affair, take all the spits and
Spats out ov it. ee

Whi iz it that we kan all ov us giv sutch 200d advice to
others, and follow itso poorly ourself. i ‘
- If yu don’t wantto make yure child a liar, don’t learn
him to fearyu.... ,

Old men are too @pt to think that about all they are fit
for iz'to make munhy and save it. ~ t

The man who pays a debt promptly, in these tideral-
minded days, iz looked upon az being too fastidious.

it requires m art to tell a thing well: than it duz to
epic it? * we ts
. Tiare are but phew honest ¢ to giv good luk the
share ov kredit that iz due it in their ible Hones.
» We are told that “virtew iz itsown reward,” and what
a blessed thing it would be if wickedness would always
git its pay in the same coin. .
Tam forced to say tliat the biggest phools that i hav
Lever met hav been az wize and misterious az an owl.
- Nature makes all the heros and the gentlemen, and
owns the pattentrignt. ° ae » eaktt

To praise a phool makes him drunk.
fame, that exists in’all men, iz a strong ar-

omit 4

 

SPICE BOX MUSICK. 1

ee “ADVICE GRaTIS. Set st

Dear Spice.—X hoosier was sauutering up oneof the

eets in Terre’ ae in front of a clothing store,
= tsi ‘by Smiling Israelitewho owned the

lishment: al ae as : cea.
ee ‘ou to-day, my dear man?" '

“Haye you got auly sats," asked the hoosier, (~~
“The very best in town, walk in, and examine them,”

replied the original and only Jacobs. - oe
“Are they white aud clean?” continued the country-

man. oes .
“As clean and white as the new-fallen snow, please
walk in, and look at them,’’ blandly said the merchant.
“T guess I won’t walk in jast now and look at them. I
will take your word for it, but you just put one on your-
ee oo it more than any man 1 haye seen ‘for a
ortnight babies -
‘Saying this the hoosier moved on.  SPIKE.*
‘Dear Josh:—Will the following litUle foibles answer for
the spice column, ‘Some of them are original, and some
have been selected from. the bundle basket of humor.
“The man who could not trust his feelings, is doing
vely of the cash principle.
zer Henan Who cast his eyeon the young
hag Wad the eye replaced by an eminent
Pune weit ot 1 1 i fh
I is lady who went na _ of hysterics,
was brought back in a ¢ nome Say tt right.

Rs
Sk a ae |

 
  

       
 
  
  

“The individu ww 4 h adversity was
thrown flat three times in 8 cretion, but finally defeated
the other party by gi ‘a hip 10¢K upon him.

“The jolly cha wip eent his sides ¥ laughter, has
had his sides neatly up, 80° that they are actually
better than they were ee

“The young man - fiew into a redhot pasnion got

hiz ree singed badly, and thinks he wont try it

again. _ 4! ; “a ;
“The old gentleman who waz taken b se haz

been released on bail.”? 7 NAS. .

' _ LISTEN, CONTRIBUTORS. ss ;

We have on hand just about one ton of-valuabie corres-
pondence, aud shall anges the next three years, at our
earliest space publish ‘‘Sprat,” ‘‘Boyla,"’ ‘4 ” “Span-
iel,’? ‘ Lemons,” and ‘Finke.’ e gently dectine ‘$A.
B. K.” “Silver,” ‘“Snaiks,” “Gimblet,” * 9 6 Tia. |
ger,” Buttons,’ ‘‘Mate,?? § ”. B, B.,” ; “Spot,”
‘Blue Ned,” “Boy George,’? “Hateful.” We have several

ammag, the howling beasts ov the dessart than amang |

I aie g ele ;
to | near by. ’ Since

| what is:it?-

BENNY’S

CHRISTMAS BAUBLE,

BY AB MADOC. 0

 

Rap! rap! rap!

“Oh, good, good! there come those girls at last, Leona,
with the ribbons for the rosettes. Why don’t they come
in? Come in!" shouted the busy and excited boy. .

“Benny, how can you be so rude? I will go tothe
door,’ repliéd his more polite little sister. :

As she opened the side door where the raps were heard,
she stood for a moment speli-bound, her face changing to
a livid hue, and then ran’ back among the group, léaving
the door ajar. -

The children looked up from their work, surprised at
her changed manner.

‘I thought the girls were there,’ broke in Benny.

“Ts—ivs—it's——"

“It's what?”

“It's Santa Claus!’ The children laughed right heartily.

?Tain’t time for him to come yet,” said Maimee.

‘“Indeed—indeed ‘twas him! There—oli, there he
¢comes!’? shrieked the frightened girl.

The children turned their eyes toward the door, and be-
held a grotesque figure slowly approaching, and they be-
gan to shout right lustily.

Children have an orthodox faith in the existence of
such a being, and withal think he isa great friend of hu-
manity, especially children, but for some reason his per-
sonal presence creates alarm.

“Eh, children, good evening! Here you are on this
cold nightassnug asabug inarug,” gpa a half-sup-
pressed titter fell from his lips, while a merry twinkle
lingered in his eyes as he saw the you , who a few
minutes before were so brave, scamper every corner
of the room to hide themselves. : %

“Oh, iv’s Ducle Finch! It ain’t Santa Cla rein
ie caren with a reassuring air and the do of a

night. .

The children were not so sure of that, and, before they
could be persuaded to leave their retreats, they took sev-
eral ps at the intruder. But sure enougl, it was Uncle
Finch, and they rushed out, clambered upon him, and
drew him to papa’s arm-chair near the glowing grate.

No wonder the gear filtie girl who answered the sum-
mons at the door was startled, or that the other children
fled at his entrance, for they never had seen such a queer-
looking man. Somebody had told them how Santa Claus
looked, and, since it was Ciristmas. Eve, they very natu-
rally expected a visit from him before the next sun arose.

inch had on his mountain hunting suit; his coat was
made of bearskin, with the fore-legs used for arm-sieeves;
his vest was made of fawnskin, smooth as velvet and
beautifully spotted; his pants were made of buckskin,
While on his head he wore a coonskin cap, with the tail
swinging gracefully over his long gray locks like the
plume of a warrior.

“Where are papa and mamma?!’ asked Finch.

“They've gone to visit a poor, sick woman, who had no
money to buy nice things for her children. Mamma said
they must have one good Christmas time anyhow. I’m
so glad; ain’t rs. Uncle Finch?” and Leona gazed ten-
derly atthe old man. .

“Yes, yes, my dear child; we should remember the poor,
and help them for Hissake who gave such a gift to men.
You never would have had a Christmas, with ali the good
things it bri if this gift had not been sent.”

The snow-fiakes which had covered his hairy costume,
giving him the appearance, as he entered, of a bristiing
snow-man, were dissolving into tiny drops and descend-
ing upon the floor. . ; ;

_ “Ah, it’s cold, children, so Uncle Fineh thought he

Wouldn't go up to thecabin to-night. Beside, you see, it’s

highty lonesome up there to speud Christmas all alone.

I@ in to be a child again among children, and if
drive me out, Pil stay. Eh, children?”

there Was fast @ perceptible touch of sad tenderness in
‘his words. He was a child again. It was a secoud child-
hood, which linked him to a mother’s lullaby, anda bright
and happy circle in the long, log ago. oF
A wom ystery surrounded his'life,’
his home had ‘been in a ru
had. lived in seclusion, an
Most people thought he mast la
crime, and that his brusque Manne
proached his abode, was
was about to be d to the bar of justice. When he
came to town, his appearance upon the streets was a sig-
nal for the wicked boys to have some sport by following
him at’ a’ distance and hooting “Orday Finch,” or the
more adventurous to play bob aud ta: h him.
. He pier returued to his cabin first dropping in

‘Life any years
cavin' in the woods, where he

     
    
 
 

committed some great
yy fear that at last he

     
  

    
   
 
 
  
    
 
 
  
  
  

  
 

   

 

  
  

  
  
  
   
 
      

ne | ry | i

: 8 boards o | near by. eu he Was @ constant visitor, but re-

iz dominions fresh lettered"a goodorder, = cote rate Bepeat the rage 4 ‘to induce him to give

_ Thare are no people who git™n oftneér than thoze | up liis home in the woods alld come and live with them.
who are een at ea into'futurity. — *| They found beneath his rough exterior a fine, gentle, lov-
If yu expekt to win a ig ya hav got o> play it | ing wature which the ‘did not understand—a nature
quick, 205 12TH OTs 4G dk PPO Ge i ais ~ | sensitive, quick and child-like in his response to alt wio

aid undersiand him.
What on earth are you p ;
turning lis eyes in rection of the boys, who were
ited on tlie floor, while their fingers were nimbly mov-
jug over some fragments of work. « - Te
“Oh, Uncie Finch, we’re making a veralewd.”
} “A whate :
“A veralewdl"
“A veralewal What's that?”
“Why,'don’t you know what that is? I thought every
ay knew what that was!” and they. worked away for
r rma Baek ‘ eA

      
   
     
   
          
    

rand shouting: ao ew @a. ,
“Benny, we’se got the greatest lot of ribbons for your—
e can’t remem 1e Hame——"!

Lregeewar again’shouted Benny. ‘That’s what papa
calls it, and he ‘says ‘that’s the name they give it in the
country he came from.” Ch ates

‘This explanation was deemed sufficient, and they all set
to work to gs “the Stead for the waits. The
floor was strewn with’ old my 3, Tags, ribbons, sticks,
cords, etc., and on a staid’ Wasa ‘horse's skull. Benny

was talkative—very.* ort an

“Uncle Finch, that's the best skill 1 ever saw. It was
old blind John's, I tell you. when I heard tiiat old Joun
was dead, it made mecry. I thought a good deal of him,
he was such a good, faithful horse. He used to like to
bite and kick a little, but you see I always kept out of the
way of his heeis by climbing over the manger. Well, one
day John died. I watched our man, Sam, get ready for
the funeral and went with him on the truck wagon. Isat
on John’s body out of respect for him. I couldn’t help
thinking how I had been on Jolin before, when he was
alive. I saw where John was buried, and watched, and
watched for a long time until nothing but his bones were
left. As I wanted something to remember him by, I
picked up his head and carried it home. I tell you it was
a tug, though! I sneaked up into the garret and laid his
head away to rest for a while tilll wanted it. You see I
didn’t want mamma to Know it was there, or she'd be
seeing old John’s ghost every night.”

Then they all laughed.

‘Just see, Uncie Finch, there isn’t a tooth gone or loose.
He eat a good many oats, but I guess he’s paid for them,
and we're going to make him pay us, so that what papa
Says sometimes will be true of Aim, any way—‘he being
dead, yet makes money.’ "? B

Fiuch never had heard Benny so free of speech, nor
seen the faces of the children lit up with such pleasurable
anticipations, He began to understand that there was
some fun ahead, and he was going to share in it.

“The folks say lm getting too old to go around with
the waits, Curistmas,’? Benny continued; ‘‘but I don’t
think so, You'see, I've get new eyes for Jolin, and I
think theytil do,’ approaching Finch to show Lim a
couple of convex bottle-bottoms which he had Knocked
off. ‘Joln’s eyes were black—well there, Jolin was blind
—but it don’t make any difference, for I’ve heard of horses,
dogs, cats, and men having glass eyes, and why shouldn't
John have éhem, too?”

The boy dropped on the floor with the skull between
his knees.

“Leona, hand me that stickum."!

“Your mamma will give it to you for melting her bees-
wax.
sie vlin’s got Lo have eyes, ain’t he?!’ screamed her bro-

er.

Benny slipped the glass eyes through the cavity, and
soon waxed them wiiere Jolin’s eyes ought to be. He
placed the headin position on the stand, aud stepped
back a few paces to take a view. Theeyes fairly stared
at him, A pulley was then fixed in the cavity of the nos-
trils, and a cord which was fustened to the lower jaw run
over it, which raised or lowered both jaws at pleasure,
and which made them rattle, or clatter, or bite. The boy
firmly fixed a broom-handle under the skall, giving a
backward slant and an arch like a horse’s neck. From
an old hair-skin trunk he cut a pair of ears, which, when
tacked on, cocked straight up.

The company of youngsters were convulsed with laugh-
ter when tney saw Joho prick his ears. The trouble was,
he heard something all the time, but it was thought that
couldn’t be helped. :

A muslin sheet, which Mrs. Aubrey had contributed,
was shaped to the head and artistically adorned with pen-
dant ribbons, rosettes and tassels. The bridie was put on
and the noble steed champed his bit and was eager for
the fray. The elated boy. seized the staff, the large, open
end of the sheet falling vver his body, when John started
around the room, snapping, biting, and whinnying as he
used to when alive. ; Tne children shrieked and ran, and
Leona was caught by the arm with the ‘horse’s jaws.

“Benny, let go, let go; you're biting me real hard.”

*T ain’t doing it—it’s John.” _

Finch was truly achild again. He chuckled, and danced,
and bobbed, and dodged about the room with the others.
At last he saw John making for him with a savage snap,
when he dropped on all fours and went with a rabbit leap
from corner to corner. Thinking himself singled out, lie
crawled into the parent’s chamber.

The side door just then opened, and in stepped Mr. and
Mrs. Aubrey, who, when they saw.:the vicious horse
plunging toward them, also ran into the chamber, and
tumbling over something. protruding from beneath their
bed. It was Uncle Finch, who was trying, as fast as his
stiff joints wonld allow, to hide himself. John nipped his
oe pants and pulled him back. Then the children
roared,

“Put a cap in John’s mouth,’? came from under the
sheets.

Suap went the teeth and snap went the horse around
the room, begging a Kenog—a holiday gift.

“Oh, that’s splendid!” said Leona, dancing and clap-
ping her hands; ‘‘but you mustn't bite so hard,” pulling
up her sleeve and showing the imprints of the teeth. ‘I

  
  

  
    

    

  

 

 

pieces on land, some of which haye no Leta to
them, and some of which we cannot read the signatures
of. Weare forced to decline themal,

don’t think any of the boys will beat Benny this time, do
you mamma?!’

Feary welcoine. Tey
ai

re you making * te aaked ait length,

«ot THE NEW YORK WEEKLY, #3

 

object. of dread and suspicion. |
‘ when any person ap-

:

_ Just then in dasiied a bevy of little girls, laughing, talk-

 

I think not. That's the best out of many I have ever
seen.

“Benny,” said his papa, “put John in the stable for a
little while, we want to talk. Take a seat, Uncle Finch,"
offering him the comfortable arm-chair. ‘‘These are
doubtless strange customs to you. They originated tn the
old countries, and when the people come to this land of
freedom to dwell, they continue to observe them. These
customs, however, are not the same in every part of
Christendom. Holland tas its Santa Claus, Switzerland
its Samiklaus, Helgoland its Souuer Klas, France its Jesus _
bambin with a convoy of angels loaded with books and
toys with which to fill the fireplace. In the Tyrol itis the» —
terrible Kiaubauf who comes to kidnap children who are
bad and stow them away in his basket, In Austria it is _
the monster Krampus, who comes with clanking chains,
Wearing a devil’s mask, and who creates terror am s
babydom in spite of the rich presents he-brings. In the
Netherlands, Rumpanz is the bugbear. "ree son men
come disguised, one as an angel, another asa devil, and
the third asa he goat. Hans Trapp is the devilof;Alsace, -
who enters, and with a hoarse voice, /
what children have been disobedieut, and th
In some countries we find the ‘‘Spanish.

anied at times with the mounted ram's head and.

lapperbock, which I find in Denmark under the nar
Juldock or Yule-buck, which is always used at Ya
to threaten children, From this is the English Bg
Cambrian veralewd. e Know that in En,
usual for the king’s fool to carry, as a plaything,
stick, on one end of which was carved a head ornamented
with the ears ofan ass. This custom may have re
lation 'to the veralewd which is borne by the ci
during the holidays from house to house, and forms pai
of their entertainment while they sing for a few
In this country there is no distinctive characteristics
make the celebration of the holidays, except such as have
been imported from other lands, But these seasons fill
my mind with the thoughts of other days.”

“And youdo not share these thoughts alone,’ said
Uncle Finch, who had been an attentive lisiener, Mr.
AUR parnine, nts eked ret bi fata syte

“Wife, where are the children Us ge )).
Pid dear, they have slipped out and doubtaatilaea
the waits.

“Ah,*? said Mr. Aubrey, who was struck with an idea,
“Uncle Finch, you feel young again to-night. be bipshn é
you to having some fun as well as the other children
The Merediths always receive the wails Christmas
They know they will come, because they will be received
with an open hand and a bountifully supplied t They .
willreach there about midnight, as the bells are ringing
inand heralding the great Advent-day. Come, lei us
go,” and the young oid folks stepped out into the crisp
winter night. ‘ “ ;

* * * * * ae

Meredith ma&sion was a house of legen oe and good
cheer. One could scarcely help thinking that some of the
invisible genii had seized a snug Englisl home, borne it
across the seas, and fiading no fitter place for it in this
western world, had dropped it on this very spot. Mr. and
Mrs. Meredith had toiled with cousummate patience to.re-
produce what they had left behind them in their misfor-
tunes. Their lands proved to contain beneath them the
precious substance which adds to the native power of the
world, and is changing the entire character of our civiliza-
tion—the autocracy of coal. ;

Of course, then, the Merediths were supreme, and ruled
far and near, particularly among those who were in their
employ, and on festival days the latter were always re-
membered. No home in all the region around was so
open, generous and liospitable as the Meredith mansion.
The poorest, humblest were made happy, while tose
delivers for black diamonds far down in suntess -pits lad
their hearts gladdened and their burdens ¢ when
“the master’s days’? came round. They knew what they
meant—days of plenty, recreation and amusement.

On the night in qgaestion the mansion presented a pic-
ture worth beholdiug. Scintillations of blazing lights
shot through the window panes out upon the lawn aud
evergreens, and produced a peculiar brilliance ou the pure
snow-fiakes. : é

But enter within and witness the family group assem-
bled in a spacious room connected with the large reception
parlor, Which was thrown open and brilliantly iltami-
nated. Here are Mr. aud: Mrs, Meredith and their chil-
dren—Josephine, Katie, Charles and Gertrude.

Itisahappy group. Competence, honor and distine-
tion in society they possess, but even these do not bring
the genuine joy which springs perennially in the heart by
acts of kindness toward the lowly. These are royal deeds
which repay, though there be no reciprocal act.

“A summons,”’ spoke Mrs. Meredith.

‘I's too early for the waits,” replied her husband,
The family arose and welcomed Mr. Aubrey, the minis-
eter, Who had come unattended, : ;
} ‘We are prepared to receive the waits when they conie,
Mr. Aubrey,” broke in the wife of the coal autocrat. “Just
step into our dining hali and see.’? ;

hey passed into a beautiful room, where the tables
were spread with Juxurtes. roi Dd a

Just then a figure moved stealthily across the: floer of
the front parlor and suddenly disa ip the large,
square Chimney—a relic of the olden time, but which was
not much used since the introduction of furnaces: . lis
large maw was concealed by a fancy fire-board, while
high above it an elaborately-carved mantel was filled
with Costly articles of virtu. ‘ en ee

Soon the family returned to the sitling-room, aceompa-
nied by the minister, and all were in the best spirits,

ow
lion”? Aas
the
e of

§to,
ns

 
   
        

‘| while the children could not restrain their glee, they were

so brimfal of expectation and fun.

Mr. Aubrey arose as if to depart, but .the famify be
sought him to remain. . He half-apologized, and said Mrs.
Aubrey would be impatient at his jong absence and so far
into the night, but he added:

“It might be fitting for.us to offer prayer to the kind,
Heavenly Father for his protecting care over us before L
go;”’ and they all Knelt in devout worship.

The minister had just reached: ‘‘Aud may the Lord de-
liver us from »' when the waits were at the door,
and the prayer atanend. They sang a beautiful Christ
mas carol the effect of which was ildescribably striking,
as the child-voices rang out in the midnight air, while tte
church belis of the village echoed the joy of men and
children over the birth of a Saviour.

The doors of the mansion were thrown open, and the
waits entered, followed by a motley crowd of siglit-seers
and sharers iu the sport. When they reached the broad.
hall, an amateur minstrel troupe, in burnt-cork, which

 

 

for some months before had exhibited in a barn—admis-
sion, ten pins—advanced into the parior and delighted
the spectators with their ‘‘Essence of Old Virginny’’ ina
way whioh drew forth hearty encores. Then a band of
neers stepped forth, who sang a simple but touching _
carol. ' :

At last a special flutter could ‘Be detected among the
audience, when it was announced that the veralewd
wouid come forth and perfurm. Snap went the whip
near the hall-door, the driver clucked, and John’
pranced into the middie of the room. He stood for a mo-
ment with ears cocked, and looking proudly about him,
at length dartec for the crowd which gave way peli-meil,
oes they knew that his feet were sound and liis heels
restless. ne

When little Gertie, Mr. Meredith’s danghter, had’ re-
covered from her fright and been assured that Jolin would -
not harm her, she shouted: Fonte

“Oh, let me dive *im, ’et me dive tim! > «

The reins were placed in her tiny fingers, and, as every
horse with good manners ought todo, John behaved with
charming meeKness under the taslies of the little lady.
Around the room they went in splendid style, proyokiug
laughter and applause. BE : bf of

The hat was seized between the horse’s teeth to receive
the Kenog or gifts, when he was driven from one to the
other, nodding and bowing, as he passed along, | n of
“Thank you.”? r [os Sees

When the members of the Meredith familyowere ‘reach-
ed, and they had cast in their gbittering -and precious
coin, Jolin was 80, obseqnious as-to ‘bow, almost to the
floor. Somehow he Knew that a bigger bow was: proper.
Horses have more ilitelligence than they get! credit. for.

sl dee wish Santa Olaus would’ tum now——’' Gertie
shouted: 3 a t

chimney; and then, lo! the! ' fire-board: {eli upon the
floor, when out bounced a reallive Santa’ Claus, dressed
in fur from head to foot,; Upon his back was>a bundle of
toys, and he looked like a peddier. . +f f
“He hada broad face, and a little round belly A f
That shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.” «

“MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!’ was his greeting.

But the spectators were spell bound: For a moment
none could move nor ulter-a word. Even, Joln’s éars
were straighter, if possible, than ever. Sirange.to relate, .
the wonder was greater among the grown-up foiks than
the children, whose faith in such a being might account

for his appearance, LES Ga z
Santa Claus seized the whip and reins which little Ger-
miles th gal-
if Lo cum-

   

tie had dropped on the floor, and the bi
loped about like a cireus-liorse, for he k
mon driver was behind him. oa ;
Then Santa Claus picked up Gertie and placed her on
the horse’s back. She screamed with terror, bat nd

the visits of Santa Claus when they were snugly nestied
in their beds, but who ever heard of such an 0-
nious and sudden appearance while they were awake? |
No wonder they were alarmed. None were more tlun-
derstruck than the Merediths themselves, while the hap-_

piest person present was the minister. Pe aa ae
At last Santa Claus, witha oe divested Limes ie his
pack, and with a bound disa R 4 1 tl ali
langhed. Was it only a vision afier all? Ferbane 9°, . f
White assembled around the table, enjoying the good
things, Uncle Finch presented himself and one the hero
of the hour for having made them -behevye they had
seen a real, live Santa Claus. _o/-

USEEUGL «>
HINTS FOR THE HOME CIRCLE.

The use of camphorated alcohol is recommended
and abscessea, which

 

S 2 cure and ere for small ra -! 50
often appear on aces, necks, etc., people. The
manner of applying it is to pour a little c ateoboi

into a saucer, and wetting the nae or = of the ek
rub the affected part crema: n dry the. place weil,
applying a little camphorated olive oil, cover up te prevent eva-
poration of the fluid. ey
If there isa crack in your wall, do not send-for the
asterer, but get five or ten cents worth of dry plaster of Paris.
et it with cold water, and then take cm finger and rub
into the orevioe till it is smooth. Bad nail holes in
wall can be done in the same way. . :

A good way to wash lace is to dissolve some salts

 

of tartar in hot water, and allow the lace to lie in it for about
balf-an-hour. After taking it out squeese it dry.

 

Aaa Re oe

‘aphat

 

There was a clatter, and then a loud thump: in the old

 

she went clinging on for dear life. All had had visions of ~

 

 

 

 

 

~

 

 

'

lina?

OO